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slamminslamminmcgill · 1 year

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Perrito: Chapter 1 - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

you were supposed to be doing 6 months in prison for drug possession and prostitution. that is, until you met lalo salamanca, and he decided to make you his puppy. for $10,000 a week, you were to wear a dog collar around your neck 24/7, and once he clipped the leash to you, you were to obey his every command. tags/warnings: petplay, dom/sub, bdsm, possessiveness, implied stalking, face slapping, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, needles/syringes/injections, medical exam, a few tiddlywinks of blood, non-consensual body modification (you'll see >:33) anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/hole, (t-)dick/cock words: 6,918 ao3 link author's notes: baby's first multichapter fic!!! had a LOT of ideas for this concept and im super excited to write more for this 🥺 y como siempre no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. entonces por favor corríjame si se encuentra algo de errores :3

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”

A generic job interview question meant to gauge your desires and plans for the future. 5 years ago, you would’ve said the best case scenario would be a life of modest success and comfort. You would have never imagined that by this point in your life you’d be living in a lavish estate and making 10 grand a week.

Let alone the fact that you were making 10 grand by wearing a dog collar for the drug cartel boss who owned said lavish estate.

Whichever deity wrote your life story had a fucked up sense of humor. Your thread of life was being used to draw dicks on the tapestry of existence. You’d gotten great at lying to friends and family. As far as they knew, you were moving abroad to work as an on-call assistant for a shipping executive. You rationalized that it was technically true, but it was an egregious lie of omission. Don Eduardo Salamanca, or “Lalo” as he preferred, was a wealthy businessman; there was no denying that. Though your assistance was the furthest thing from business that anyone could fathom. It was a stable position that came with steady income, job security, and benefits. Sure, these benefits just so happened to include the best sex you’d ever had on the comfiest bed you’d ever touched, but that was neither here nor there.

It all started how most job interviews go: prison. You were supposed to be doing 6 months for drug possession and prostitution, but Lalo took a liking to you the moment he saw you. He said that your skills would be highly valuable in an organization such as his, which was jobspeak for “I want to get my dick wet”. You thought he was talking out of his ass, but judging by the respect he got from your fellow inmates and even some of the guards, you took his word for it. He promised you a job when you both got out, if you’d take it.

You agreed; it sounded a hell of a lot better than going back on the streets. He promised to set you up with his lawyer, who’d been working on a way to get him off. Luckily, the lawyer actually knew his shit. He had found some tiny loophole in your case and was able to get the charges dropped and your record expunged. Much to your surprise, Lalo was waiting outside the jailhouse to pick you up when you got out. He dropped you off at your place and gave you a week to get your affairs in order. Then, you’d be moving to his place across the border in Chihuahua, Mexico.

The week after, he showed up at your apartment in a car that, if it could speak, would definitely call you poor. On the way to his house, you discussed the specifics of your position.

“So!” Lalo declared in a cheerful voice as he adjusted the rearview mirror, “What do you remember from what we talked about?”

You combed through your memories, the many conversations you two had in the prison showers, cafeteria, and rec yard. “10 grand a week, I wear a dog collar 24/7, and when the leash is clipped to it, I’m working. When I’m working, you have full control over me, and I have to do everything you say. Is that right?”

“Yeah! There you go. That’s the gist of it.” Lalo affirmed, “But, you won’t have to do literally everything I say. If you’re uncomfortable, you have your signals, and I’m not gonna press your limits unless you say I can.”

That was one of the promises he’d made that had put your mind at ease. Discussing this over state-sanctioned lunch one day, he had asked you your boundaries, things that you would never ever do under any circumstances. He was receptive when you told him. Plus, he’d given you safewords to use: green for “I’m okay. Keep going.”, yellow for “Ease up a little bit.”, and red for “You need to stop everything right the fuck now.” There were also corresponding hand signals in case you couldn’t talk: 3 fingers up for green, 2 for yellow, and 1 for red.

“Right, yeah. Thank you for that.” You said.

“Ah, don’t be silly. You don’t have to thank me. I want you to enjoy this. It’s a lot more fun for me if I know you’re having fun.” He patted your shoulder, “And, if you want to really have fun,” and squeezed it tighter than you expected, “you can talk back once in a while. You can be a naughty little puppy, if you want, but you’d better be prepared for discipline. So make sure you know what you’re getting into, alright?” He put his hand back on the wheel.

That was generally good life advice, but you’d be lying if you said you knew entirely what you were getting into. “Alright, sure. Fair enough.” You gazed out the window at the desert terrain. Nothing but cacti and sand for miles and miles. You’d weren’t entirely sure which side of the border you were on anymore, or if it even mattered. “Question,” you posed.

“Yeah?” Lalo prodded.

“So, like… what am I supposed to call you while we do this? Just Lalo, or…?” Your voice trailed off, as if you were expecting a different answer out of him.

“Oh, good question! I was actually getting to that. Such a smart boy.” He laughed and ruffled your hair, making you jump a little in your seat. His touch felt nice, but it was definitely something you’d have to get used to. You probably shouldn’t react that strongly every time. “You can call me Lalo when the leash is off, but if it’s on, you need to be professional. If you’re working, you call me ‘Don Eduardo’, ‘sir’, ‘master’, ‘señor’, ‘jefe’, or ‘patrón’. Those last two basically mean ‘boss’. Make sense?”

Sense was made. “Yeah, alright. Easy enough.”

“Very good. And how’s your Spanish?”

You shrugged, “Mediocre at best. I can understand more than I speak.”

Lalo chuckled, “Well, I appreciate the honesty. I’ll have to teach you to speak it, then, no worries. Also, if the leash is on and I have you speaking Spanish, call me usted, not tú. That’s just when you’re working, though. Es formal, ¿comprendes? (It’s formal, understand?)”

Okay, sure, you could do that. It might take you a bit to figure out, but you’d get there. “Sí, yo comprendo. (Yes, I understand.)”

“Bueno. Now, what can I call you?” Lalo poked you in the arm, “And I don’t just mean your name.”

Your first thought was an idiot. That seemed like a fitting label for someone in your predicament. Thankfully, your second thought was much more receptive. “Well, uh… what did you have in mind? I’m pretty open.”

“Oh ho, you wanna hear what I think of you? I got a whole list of ‘em in mind. They might not all be flattering, just so you know.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t be. “That’s fine. Go for it.”

“Well, there’s the animal related ones. Puppy, dog, perro, cachorro (puppy), and then variants of those like doggy and perrito. Reminds you what you are to me, y’know? There’s also other animal terms like conejito (bunny) and osito (little bear). Basically, anything that lets you know how cute you are.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You giggled. The attention and praise was definitely a perk to this whole arrangement. “That all sounds good.”

“And, if you’re a naughty little puppy.” His tone darkened to a rich growl and he dragged his hand down to your upper thigh, squeezing it hard before he spoke, “I may call you chucho, or a dirty little mutt.” He spat that last word at you with mock disdain.

The idea of him changing up like that, getting rough with you, putting you in your place, that was another perk. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more excited for the praise or the punishment. “Oh… Oh wow…”

He leaned in closer to you, his breath hitting your face. You wondered how he could watch the road like that, but maybe that’s why he drove you through the middle of nowhere. In his mind, you were the only thing worth watching. “You like that?”

“Yeah…”

He showed you how quick he could change by pulling back and switching back to his friendly tone. He gave you whiplash, but not from how he was driving. “Good! ‘Cause I got more. You’re okay with me being mean to you?”

You were more than okay with it, especially if he would say it in that same sexy tone. “Yeah, I mean, like, just don’t call me a girl and you can pretty much say whatever you want.”

“Heh, I’ll keep that in mind.” He patted your thigh before putting his hand back on the wheel once more.

A few more hours, a few more rest stops, and a few more hundreds of miles, and you pulled up to what looked more like a military base than your future home, complete with friendly, welcoming armed guards and a concrete wall topped with warm, fuzzy, barbed wire.

Actually, the armed guards were friendly and welcoming, once they realized who was coming at least. Lalo rolled down his window and spoke to a man with a ponytail, who greeted him with a smile.

“¡Buenas tardes, señor! (Good afternoon, sir!)” He pointed at you in the passenger seat and leaned on the window. “Ooh, ¿es este el nuevo chico? ¡Él es más lindo de lo que usted dijo! (Ooh, is that the new kid? He’s cuter than you said!)” Apparently, his other employees referred to him with the same formalities.

“¡Ay, ay! ¡Mucho ojo, cabrón! (Ay, ay! Watch it, asshole!)” He laughed and pushed him off the side of the car. “Pero sí, es él. Parece un buen chico, ¿verdad? (But yeah, that’s him. He looks like a good boy, right?)” He turned to you. “This is Miguel. He’s one of the guards I have working here.”

Your eyes were fixated on the gigantic rifle across the man’s chest, enough so that you forgot your vocabulary from Spanish 101. “Bien a… bien a conocerte? (Nice to… Nice to meet you?)”

The two men laughed, but you could tell it was all in good fun. Lalo smiled, “Ah, tan tonto… (Ah, so silly...)” and petted your hair again as he corrected you. “You’re kinda right, but ‘Mucho gusto’ is what you’re trying to say, mijo (my boy).”

You blushed the tiniest bit and course-corrected. “Oh, lo siento. ¡Mucho gusto, Miguel! (Oh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Miguel!)”

“Igualmente, chiquito. (Likewise, kiddo.)” Miguel turned around and punched in a code on the keypad. “Listo, patrón. (All set, boss.)” Another term you shared for him.

“¡Bien! ¡Gracias! (Nice! Thank you!)” Lalo waved him off as he pulled through the gate. He could see the tension in your face and slung his arm over your shoulder. “What, did the gun freak you out? Ah, don’t worry about that. He’s just compensating for something, y’know?” That got a hearty snort from you. “Nah, but really, he’s a nice guy. All of my people are great. I told them all about you, y’know.” He drove up to a spot in his massive driveway and parked the car.

His last statement tied your stomach into a knot. You couldn’t imagine facing an entire army of employees, your potential coworkers, knowing what they knew. “Uh… all about me? Like… what exactly?”

Lalo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well, basically, your personality, your looks, how we met, and what you’ll be doing here. They don’t need to know all the details. Just enough to know what to expect, right?”

You unbuckled yours as well, even though you were now mortified to step out of the car. “What I’ll be doing here? How the hell did you explain that?”

Lalo waved off your concerns, “Oh, what, are you worried about? That they’re gonna judge you for it? Don’t be silly! They know better than that. Honestly, they’re all psyched to meet you. Now, c’mon, you’ll see what I mean!” He opened his door and saw you reach for yours, “No, no, let me get that for you, sweetheart.” He stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening your door and offering his hand for you to take.

“Thanks.” You gave him a timid smile as you took his hand and stepped out. Sure enough, a couple steps later and you saw an eager crowd of people waving you over.

Lalo raised the hand you were holding and called out to the crowd as he approached, “¡Aquí él está! Entonces, tengo suerte, ¿o qué? (Here he is! So, am I lucky or what?)” He let go of your hand and patted you on the back. Knowing his ego, he definitely wanted to show you off.

An older woman was the first to answer him with a voice that sounded like how fresh baked cookies smelled. “Claro, tienes razón, mijo. (Of course, you’re right, my boy.)” She approached you and held her arms out for a hug, which you graciously accepted. “¡Bienvenidos, querido! Estamos encantados de tenerte aquí. (Welcome, dear! We’re happy to have you here.)” she said, hugging you with all the love in her heart. Oh, god, that wasn’t his mother, right? You dreaded to think of how that conversation must have gone.

Lalo introduced her as she let go of you, “This is Yolanda. She’s my housekeeper, cook, and the reason why I have such a fat belly!” He laughed and patted his stomach, clearly exaggerating. In reality, he was only slightly pudgy, but hey, you liked a man with a little squish. Much better to cuddle with. “Let me tell you, she looks sweet, but her cooking is dangerous. I’m told she's got something great planned for us, you’ll see.”

A young man, even younger than you were, raised his hand to ask a question. He looked tense, probably afraid to speak out of turn. “Uh, perdón, ¿señor? ¿Él habla español? (Uh, excuse me, sir? Does he speak Spanish?)”

Lalo scoffed, “¿Por qué te importa a tí? ¿Qué, le vas a decir que huir? (Why do you care? What, you gonna tell him to run?)” He was staring him down like he was trying to melt an ant with a magnifying glass. The kid looked like he was about to piss his pants, he was so nervous. Suddenly, Lalo burst out laughing and flicked the boy’s forehead. “¡Ah, solo te estoy jodiendo, chamaco! (Ah, I’m just fucking with you, kid!)” He then turned back to you. “This is Ciro. He’s another one of the guards here, believe it or not with a babyface like that. He was asking if you speak Spanish.”

“Oh! Hi! Uh…” You took a moment to think of an answer for him, “Comprendo más que yo hablo. Solo hablo un poquito. (I understand more than I speak. I only speak a little.)” You glanced over at Lalo, who gave you a thumbs up.

Lalo snapped at him, both physically and verbally, though his words had an edge of sarcasm to them. “Entonces, no le digas algo estúpido a él. ¿Entiendes? (So, don’t say anything stupid to him. Understand?)”

Ciro nodded, “Sí, señor. Entiendo. (Yes, sir. I understand.)”

“Bueno. Pues ve a llevar sus cosas a mi habitación. Tiene dos maletas en la cajuela. (Good. Then go take his things up to my room. He’s got two suitcases in the trunk.)” Lalo patted the boy on the shoulder and handed him the keys.

“Si, señor. (Yes, sir.)” Ciro replied before he ran off to get your bags from the car.

While he was doing that, Lalo took the time to introduce you to his remaining staff: Cecilio, the gardener, and the other two guards, Herardo and Raul. Everyone seemed like decent, hardworking people, and you couldn’t wait for dinner tonight. After having said your hellos, Lalo said there was one more person you had to meet, a visitor, and he was waiting in the living room.

Lalo led you into the house, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back. To the right of the foyer was the living room, where sure enough, someone was waiting for you: an older man in a white lab coat. A doctor?

“So!” Lalo gestured to the man standing before you. “This is Dr. Cruz. He’s been with my family for years. Actually, he helped deliver my little cousins Marco and Leonel when they were born, so we have a lot of trust in him. I just brought him in today to give you a quick checkup and see that you’re fit to work. Is that okay?”

A physical? That seemed pretty excessive, but this was a new job, at the end of the day. You figured it wasn’t entirely abnormal. “Uh… yeah! Sure. I think I’m actually due for one, anyway.”

Dr. Cruz smiled at you. “Great. I just need to talk to Lalo here for one second, and then we can get started. Please, have a seat on the couch. I think that will be the best place for everything. It’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

You returned the smile. “You too.”

As you sat down on the examination couch, Dr. Cruz walked Lalo over into the next room. You could hear bits and pieces of what they were saying, but you couldn’t decipher any of it. He spoke in a hushed voice. “Está seguro que yo no pueda disuadir a usted de esto? (Are you sure that I can’t talk you out of this?)”

Lalo responded at the same volume. “Estoy seguro. No quiero que él se pierda. Te pagaré doble por el molestia. (I’m sure. I don’t want him to get lost. I’ll pay you double for the inconvenience.)”

The doctor sighed. “Bien. Entonces… (Alright. So…)” He put on a friendly grin as he walked back over to you. He reached into a bag that was sitting on the coffee table and started pulling things out. Needles, syringes, bandages, alcohol wipes, and some other medical supplies you couldn’t quite name. Then, he pulled out a file and handed it to you. “These are your medical records from your time in MDC Albuquerque. Would you just tell me if the information here is up to date?”

You briefly wondered how in the hell he was able to get his hands on those, but hey, the cartel family doctor probably had connections. You scanned over a list of medications, vaccinations, diagnoses, allergies. Everything was correct. “Yeah. Looks good.” You said plainly and handed the file back to him.

“Alright, perfect.” Dr. Cruz accepted the file from you and placed it back in his bag. “Now, we need to take some blood to run labs. Just to make sure that nothing has changed and that you’re clear for work. Don’t worry, we won’t need much. Just a finger stick will be enough.”

Bloodwork? That seemed excessive too. But, come to think of it, you’d basically be sucking Lalo’s dick for a living. He probably wanted to make sure you wouldn’t give him anything. “Okay, yeah. Hit me.” You held your hand out.

Dr. Cruz snapped some gloves on before he grabbed your wrist and stamped the needle into your fingertip. You winced at the stab, but it was over in a flash. Then, he milked your finger to get some blood, enough to fill up a small vial. “This will be used for STI testing. We’ll have the results back in a few days, but we’ll only call if you test positive for something. As far as we’re concerned, no news is good news.” Once the vial was full, he capped it and bandaged you up. He put the vial in a bag, sealed it, and stored it with the rest of his equipment. “Okay, last thing on the agenda. Your records state that you’re due for a tetanus shot. It’s a big injection, so I’ll have to numb you first. The injection site will bruise and be sore for about a day or two. Now I’m sure this is probably different from how they do it in the states, but this is how it’s done in Mexico.”

“Oh, really? Interesting.” You pondered, none the wiser to your boss’s plan. He’d exploited your naivete and trust in him to get you to do this, and it worked like a charm. You had no clue. “Yeah, I mean, if I’m due for it, might as well.” You rolled up the sleeve for your non-dominant arm.

“Perfecto.” Dr. Cruz said as he grabbed your forearm. He sanitized the underside of your bicep with an alcohol wipe. “First is the local anesthetic. Tiny pinch, but then you won’t feel a thing when we do the second one.” He positioned the syringe just below your muscle. “I’m gonna have you breathe in and out twice, and on the second exhale I’ll inject. You ready?”

“Yep.” You said, closing your eyes and calming your nerves.

“Alright. Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. Pinch.

“Beautiful. Now, it’ll take about 30 seconds for the numbing to kick in. I’d advise that you keep your eyes closed while I prepare the vaccination. The needle size may frighten you.”

“Sure thing.” You obliged, keeping your eyes closed and your arm out. You could hear the doctor rifling through his bag, unwrapping sterile equipment and popping containers open. It was hard to picture exactly what he was setting up, but you could tell he was done when he grabbed your forearm again. “Can you feel me touching you?” He asked. “Not where I’m holding you, I mean right here.” He poked your bicep again, not that you knew, of course.

“Where?” You asked.

Dr. Cruz chuckled. “Okay, you’re numb. Now, same thing as the last one. I’m gonna have you take a deep breath twice before I stick you. Ready?”

“Yep.” You repeated.

“Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. You didn’t feel a pinch this time.

“Amazing. You can open your eyes.” As you did, you watched Dr. Cruz set the syringe on the coffee table and grab some gauze. He debriefed you as he wrapped it around your bicep. “The numbing will last for a few hours, so it’ll probably wear off in your sleep. You may bruise and be a bit sore tomorrow morning, and you can take the gauze off then as well. Try not to overwork the muscle for a day or two.” He taped the gauze to secure it, then patted you on your shoulder. “And you are good to go, my friend. I wish you all the best in your new position.”

You gave him a friendly smile. “Sounds good! Thanks so much!”

“No problem. I’d say see you around, but hopefully you won’t have to deal with me too much.” He laughed as he finished packing his bag. Once he was done, he grabbed it and turned over his shoulder to Lalo, “Y enviaré a usted la factura mañana. Me llame si él se molesta. (And I’ll send you the bill tomorrow. Call me if he has any problems.)”

“Claro. Gracias otra vez. (Of course. Thank you again.)” Lalo replied as he led the doctor outside, patting him on the back for a job well done. He shut the door, and finally, finally, he could focus on you, and he was chomping at the bit to get started. “Alright! We’re good to go! Got the formalities out of the way, so now,” He sauntered over to you, swaying his hips as he walked. When he got to you, he snaked his hands behind your back and grabbed your ass. “Now, we can put you to work.” You barely had time to react before he let you go, but not before giving you a playful spank. “Follow me, doggy.”

You squeaked at the literal pet name. Being ordered around by him felt better than you thought it would. This was going to be amazing. He led you up the stairs to his bedroom, though you were practically chasing him up with how excited you were. When you arrived, he closed the door behind you two. “Stay right here.” Lalo commanded. He walked over to the dresser and opened a fancy box that sat atop it. You heard the clinking of metal, and when he turned around, he was holding a black leather collar in one hand, and a chain leash in the other. You beamed at the sight of it. This is what you were here for. You couldn’t wait. You’d be such a good boy. Lalo knew that, but still, he had to ask. “You ready, puppy?”

“Yes, sir!” You responded cheerfully.

Lalo smiled and fastened the collar around your neck. His calloused fingers swept your hair out of the way; his hot breath billowing against your sensitive skin. It was intense. You could feel your thoughts fading away as you focused on getting into your new role; a cute, silly little puppy. You closed your eyes and let the warmth of his embrace dress you up.

Lalo cupped your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings in his native tongue as he petted your hair and scratched behind your ears. “Oh, mi chico hermoso, eso es. Se veas perfecto con ese collar. Es como tú has nacido para ser mi perrito. Vas a ser un buen chico para mi, ¿verdad? ¿Vas a hacer lo que yo digo? Oh, sí, sí, buen chico. (Oh, my beautiful boy, that’s it. You look perfect in that collar. It’s like you were born to be my puppy. You’re gonna be a good boy for me, right? You’re gonna do what I say? Oh, yes, yes, good boy.) Such a good boy.”

Your head lulled from side to side, following his gentle touch. As he pulled back, your eyelids lifted up, and you saw his gorgeous face. Dark brown eyes half-lidded, his mouth curled into a smile. You were so happy to see him. You really did feel like a puppy, so bubbly and playful at the sight of their master. You gave him a goofy grin and said, “Hi…”, one of only a few words left in your brain.

“Hi, puppy.” Lalo cooed as he caressed your cheek. “You ready to get started for real?”

You nodded. You’d been ready for hours.

“Bueno.” Lalo hummed as he clipped the leash on your collar. Thus began the start of your first shift. You were working now. Henceforth, you were at his beck and call, his perfect little lapdog. “Now, I’m gonna teach you some tricks. I’ll say them in English and Spanish so you learn a bit. Okay?”

You giggled, already feeling hazy and obedient. “Okaaay…”

“Perfecto. Entonces… (Perfect. Now…)” Lalo backed off you to straighten his posture, and pulled the leash taut. “Siéntate. Sit.”

You dropped to your knees without a second thought and gave him a cherubic smile. If you had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging. You were anxious to make him proud of you.

“Good boy! So smart!” Lalo praised as he crouched down on one knee and held out his hand. “Dame la pata. Shake.”

You laid your hand in his and waited for your next command.

“Bueno. ¿Puedes hablar? Can you speak for me, boy?”

You could. Barely. “Yes, Don Eduardo.”

Lalo smirked and shook his head. “Oh, no no no. Not like that, mijo. Like a dog. Habla. Speak. Let me hear you bark, okay?”

You blushed, but you wanted to be a good boy. And good boys do as they’re told, no matter how embarrassing it may be. “Woof! Woof!”

Lalo couldn’t help but laugh. You were just so cute! “Oh, that’s perfect! Good boy!” He kissed your forehead again before standing up. He tugged the leash to get your attention. “Stand up. Levántate. Two legs.”

You rose to your feet and stood upright, hoping it wouldn’t be for too long. It was hard to act like a puppy when you were standing like a person.

Lalo could read your mind. His next command solved the problem you were thinking of. “All fours. Cuatro patas.”

You smiled and went down on your hands and knees for him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the leash. “Ven aquí. Come here.”

You crawled over to him and knelt between his legs. Instinctively, you rested your hands on his thighs, before realizing he didn’t tell you to touch him. You started to pull away, but Lalo interrupted you.

“You can keep them there. That’s fine.” He traced his fingers from your collar up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “You’re a real lapdog, aren’t you? You want your master to take care of you, right boy?”

You nodded.

Lalo tugged the leash and gave you a firm command. “Habla. Speak.”

“Woof!”

He snickered again. God, you were just perfect for this. “Oh, good boy. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” He tapped his hand on the bed. “Arriba. Up. Up on the bed, and then get in my lap.”

You crawled onto the bed, the smile never breaking from your face as you sat in his lap. Lalo’s hands dragged down your back, mapping the curves of your hips. He took his time admiring his new pet. “You can use words now, puppy. ¿Quieres tu patrón que te haga sentir bien? (You want your master to make you feel good?)”

You whimpered and nuzzled into his neck, trying to translate and then answer him in Spanish. “S-Sí, patrón… (Y-Yes, master…)”

Lalo’s hand made its way back up your spine, your breath shuddering as he traced his finger up. “Mírame. Look at me.” He took a handful of your hair and tugged your head off his shoulder. You let out a soft gasp and met his gaze. He was staring you down. Before, you’d felt calmed and nurtured by his attention. At this moment, you felt weak. Exposed. He was just so intimidating. He had you quite literally in the palm of his hand, right where he wanted you. He kept you waiting for longer than you would have liked, almost like he was sizing you up, trying to see when you’d break. Once your anxiety reached its peak, he pressed his lips against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and collapsed onto him, your arms slumping onto his shoulders, gripping his silk shirt. Lalo’s lips enveloped yours, his tongue pushing inside your mouth to swipe across your own. His teeth tugged your bottom lip. Since he was holding onto you by your hair, he slipped his hand through the loop of the leash and let it explore, groping your chest, your ass, your thighs, eventually letting his hand rest on your front between your legs, cupping you through your jeans.

Even though you were the dog, you praised your master, “Oh, fuck, Lalo...”

Your master yanked your hair back and reprimanded you. “No, no. You’re working. What’s my name?”

Panting like the dog you were, you tried to parse the meaning of his question. When you got it, you said it. “Don Eduardo…”

Lalo confirmed your answer, “Good boy,” and took your lips back in his. He released his grip on your hair and moved to unbutton your shirt, unwrapping you like a gift with his name on it, “Oh, chico, you have no idea how much I missed this.” He placed an open mouth kiss on your neck, just above the collar, “I missed that tight little hole,” and on the other side, “Always so wet and needy for me,” and bit down enough to leave you with a glaring mark.

You wanted to moan his name again, but hesitated. Lalo seemed to roll off the tongue more easily than Don Eduardo, especially when you lacked the brainpower to talk more than absolutely necessary. Thankfully, you recovered. “La-ah… oh, fuck, patrón…”

Lalo peeled your shirt off and let it fall to the floor. “Yeah?” He asked, biting on the other side of your neck. “You like that, puppy? Habla.”

This time, your bark wasn’t loud and confident. It was akin to the yip of an overstimulated Pomeranian. “W-Woof, woof…” you whimpered.

“That’s it…” He pried himself from your neck and tugged the leash. “Date la vuelta. Roll over. On your back.”

You scurried off his lap and onto the full expanse of the mattress, flopping onto your back with your knees propped up. It was much softer than the prison bed you two were on last time you did this. Lalo climbed over you and worked your pants off, then everything of his except his boxers. He pushed your legs apart and smiled at the visible wet spot in your underwear.

“Aw, perrito, look at you! I got you all worked up, huh?” He was honestly one to talk, judging by the tent in his boxers, but you weren’t about to argue, especially when his face was mere inches away from your core. Lalo slid your underwear off and threw it over his shoulder. He laid down on his stomach and pushed your thighs up to your chest, revealing your weeping, aching hole. He bit his lip at the sight, and flicked his eyes up to yours. “It’s good to see you again.” He said before diving in headfirst.

You gasped as his tongue swiped up and down your cunt, lapping up as much of your wetness as he could. He pulled away to warm you up some more, leaving wet kisses and sharp bites on your squishy thighs. The teasing made you whine, though not as loudly as he’d like. He took your t-dick into his mouth and started to suck, which gave him the exact response he was looking for.

“Ah! F-Fuck! Fuck!” You cried as your hands scrambled for something to hold on to. One found the sheets, and the other his hair. Keeping him still, you bucked your hips up and started to fuck his mouth, whimpering pure nonsense the whole time. Just combinations of “please”, “fuck”, “more", and the cutest little sounds he’d heard in a while.

Lalo let you have your fun. He even winked at you, which you interpreted as a signal for “Yeah, you like that?” He took one of his hands off your thighs and brought it down. You didn’t realize why, until you heard some soft grunting. You felt the mattress bounce, just a tiny bit, and strong vibrations against your cock. He was stroking himself, feverishly so, to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore.

Lalo ripped his head up and gasped for air. “Dios mío… (My god…)” He laughed breathlessly before getting off the bed and tugging his boxers down. “I hate to rush this, but… I don’t think either of us can wait any longer.”

He was right, of course. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since you got out of prison. No bars, no guards, no spectators, no worries. Just him filling you up and fucking you into the rest of your life, a life of luck, luxury, and lust. He hopped back onto the bed and positioned himself in front of you. You held your legs open for him, making it easy for him to slide inside. He gripped the base of his cock, and looked into your eyes for approval. You nodded, and he pushed in.

The sensation of being full was too much for you to keep quiet. Reflexively, you moaned his name. “Oh! Lalo! La-ah!” Your praise for him was cut short by a slap across the face.

“No! Bad boy!” He tugged you up by the leash to face him. “I told you, you’re working. And what’s my name when you’re working?” He snarled.

You hastily corrected your mistake. “Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m sorry, Don Eduardo!”

“Much better.” Lalo lessened his grip on the leash, allowing you enough slack to fall back against the pillow and hook your legs around his waist. He gave you a hard thrust, making sure he bottomed out inside you. Then another. And another, until he had a good rhythm going. His efforts earned him a slew of pathetic babbling from you.

“Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! Ah! Fuck…! Fuck me! Please!”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, he didn’t want you bossing him around. He was the master here, not you. You were his dog, his bitch. He lowered himself down, pressing his elbows into the mattress, and shut you up with a kiss. You hugged him tight, whining into his mouth as he rutted inside you. He pulled away and growled into your ear. “Eso es. Tómalo. Tómalo, puto. Eres mío. Eres mío y de nadie más. Perteneces a mí, y voy a follarte como la perra que eres. (That’s it. Take it. Take it, whore. You’re mine. You’re mine and no one else’s. You belong to me, and I’m gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.)

You couldn’t hear a word he was saying over your own cries and the obscene sounds your bodies made. He held you tight against him as he used your body like a toy. You couldn’t move or fight him off, not that you’d want to, but you were completely powerless, and in turn, he had complete power over you. From now on, at any time he wanted, he could clip a leash onto your collar and take you for himself. You’d spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, knowing that you could be stripped naked and fucked senseless at any moment. Exhilarating, thrilling, intoxicating, none of these words seemed to fully encapsulate what you were feeling.

You choked on his formal title as you pleaded for mercy, mercy that you didn’t expect to get. “D-Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Oh, already? Is that right?” Lalo sneered and slithered one of his hands in between you two. He gripped your dick and started to stroke it, knowing that was the key to making you break. “Do it then! C’mon, puppy! Be a good boy and cum for me!”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice, or even once, for that matter. You orgasmed on his command, squirting hard enough to force his cock out of you. You sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed and overstimulated, clinging to him for support through it all. When it was over, you collapsed back against the bed, gasping for air and relief.

Lalo sat up for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked when you were too pleasured to think: your face flushed, chest rising and falling, tongue hanging out of your mouth. You really were like a puppy, all tuckered out from playtime. It was adorable.

You stared up at the ceiling as you basked in the afterglow of climax. It was like lying on the beach at sunset. The warmth of your body heat being cooled by the dots of sweat on your brow; the oxytocin flooding your brain like waves on the shore. Blissful. Peaceful. Serene.

Yet you had no vacation time left to use. You were called in to work by your master slamming his cock into you and bringing you back to reality. You yelped and stared up at him in shock as he pumped in and out of your abused hole.

“What?” He scoffed. “What did you expect, doggy? You’re not finished ‘til I finish.”

You weren’t sure how many times he made you cum that night, but the last thing you remember was dozing off with his seed spilling out of you.

–

You woke up the next morning in Lalo’s bed, alone. On his pillow, there was a note. You reached for it and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes to read it. It said:

Good morning, puppy! Great job yesterday! Come to the kitchen when you’re awake and I’ll cook you breakfast.

XOXO,

Lalo.

You smiled. He was so sweet. You folded the note and stretched to put it on the nightstand, but suddenly, you felt a jolt of pain in your bicep. Right, the tetanus shot. The numbing had worn off. Oh well, at least you could take the gauze off by now. You unwrapped your arm, and just as you suspected, there was a nasty bruise at the injection site. Going against better judgment, you pressed down on the mark. Something you felt shocked you enough to recoil, not the tender bruise itself, but rather the foreign object implanted underneath it.

That’s when it hit you.

When Lalo said you were gonna be his dog, he meant it. You were to be collared and at his beck and call 24/7, and in return he’d give you food, water, a place to live, companionship, everything a responsible dog owner should provide.

And what else do responsible owners do for their dogs?

They microchip them so they can’t run away.

#bcs #bcs x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #better call saul smut #better call saul imagine #better call saul headcanons #better call saul hcs #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca headcanons #lalo salamanca hcs #ftm reader #ftm puppy #lalo salamanca x ftm reader #perrito

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a-hobit · 1 year

Text

Using my tumblr account as a vent space once again!

So for reasons unspecified I’m an adult still living with my parents and grandmother. I’m almost 21 and I’ve lived in a shoebox apartment with my mom (and now stepdad and old lady) for as long as I can remember. I used to live in a house but really I don’t remember it. The fact we were pretty tight with cash didn’t really bother me growing up but as a full adult now with my own money it feels so unfairly good to spend it on the things I want. I try to spoil my mother whenever I can but she’s pretty hard to buy for. She gave up literally everything for me and my sister. She gave up everything she loved to take us away from my biological dad. I have always known that the life she has is not the one she wanted for me, my sister, or herself. She wanted a home she was proud to go back to and that her children could grow up in. She wanted to host family gatherings and have me and my sister invite guests over. She wanted to grow a seed in the backyard and watch It grow into a tree like she watched her children grow.

It really has always killed me to know that while I may not mind where we are it hurts her deeply that I do not remember that house. That I do not remember a complete family or a simple life. And that as much as she gave up for us it still wasn’t enough. I wonder how many people can say that they understand my mother — she always had friends with simple easy lives that she couldn’t seem to cry to and so she held in that grief of a broken family and that lost life by herself for as long as we’ve lived here.

Now like a gift from the greatest tragedy my mother has that opportunity to buy that home. Not the original one, not that one but a different home. Something she’s proud of. I see how stressed it makes her to have this thing she’s wanted. How she’s having such a hard time choosing.

I am definitely making this harder on her. I know that. I do have my own opinions about where I’d like to live and I’ve always kind of dreamed what that first house might look like when we got the money. Upstairs or downstairs? Dibs on which room? Where would you like your bed? Can you please mow the lawn today sweetie? Have you unpacked everything yet? Will you park the cars in the garage — I think there’s hail coming. Will you take the trash? Will you tend the garden? Will you take the dog out? Can you come home soon? How late will you be?

Do you want to see how big you’ve grown? I can mark it on the wall.

I know some of that already happened. Not the exact same but it happened. I guess maybe ive been idolizing that life in my head so much it’s strange that I now get to watch it play out…but it isn’t really how I wanted it either right?

I’m not a child anymore.

Im not going to live in this house for more than a year — maybe some months in between out of college? This is not going to be my home like it is theirs. Im not part of this like I dreamed about.

And isn’t it true? Why would it ever matter what I thought when I didn’t have to look at it for more than a year or two? Why come along to house showings? Why be nervous about my mom loving a house I hate so deeply because I can’t see myself there with her? Why voice that complaint?

Why say anything at all?

Why worry? If she loves it? If it’s her dream and it just doesn’t include you for long? You should just keep your mouth shut because of how much you’re hurting her how much you know it’s painful to hear you be excited about a house that isn’t even going to be yours — she knows she knows it.

Now you know it.

But GOD it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. It’s so hard to know now. The reality is so painful you’d rather just stay here. And isn’t that awful? Aren’t you just awful to wish for your loving mother to stay here and rot with you because you can’t handle her being happy without you?

But it feels like rotting already.

#ahobit rant

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bellewintersroe · 2 years

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Hi could I request for another BoB ship? Whenever you aren’t too busy ofc! I asked for one not too long ago and I loved it so much I just couldn’t help but ask again. If you can’t that’s fine also 💖

I’m a female (she/her) , i have big heart, i’m funny, I like to relax, but i also can be energetic. I love to chill and listen to music. I can have a bit of a short temper at times (I just think it’s because I don’t put up with peoples bs LMAO), I can also be very stubborn, i’m very loyal, like VERY loyal and I will always stick up for the people i love, (which I think that can also lead me to being hurt or misused by friends) I can be a little emotional at times, maybe a little dirty minded too lol, i love to cook, i’m a dog lover (really just an animal lover at that), and i’m competitive and passionate. I’m a very driven person and if it’s something I want to do i’ll make SURE it gets done. I Make up my own rules and I don’t give into unfair ideas that are put up around me. I lead with my heart and my emotions and if that gets me into trouble then so be it. i also LOVE scary movies, true crime, all that stuff, i’m also a SUCKER for reality tv 😭 (tlc does have some good drama though) I would say im charming and it’s more of my words and my smile that gets guys. I’m a bit of a germaphobe and maybe little ocd. Imma southern gal who’s very short, (5.0) I have brown eyes, wavy light chocolate brown hair, big lips, only like a couple light freckles on my nose ( you can see them better in the summer) , button nose, and an olive skintone that has paled over time, I would say I have more of a petite/hourglass figure but I think my chest is what catches people’s eyes (Im a size DD LOL) I have high standards, I can be very sympathetic, and I also can usually tell when people are in pain or when their vibe is off in general. I usually just joke or “laugh it off” when i’m coping with something that bothers me, or if it’s something that really hurt me I usually just shut down and become cold. i’m an INTP, My hogwarts house is Hufflepuff ( even though I honestly thought I was a slytherin for so long 😭) My love language is physical touch for giving and acts of service as receiving (it’s really just the little things and showing that you care about what I’m saying for me). I grew up with brothers so i love watching sports and playing them ( We grew up in a very competitive household lol) i’m very very family oriented. I’m a sagittarius, I like to play the piano, and read and write in my free time. and In the summers I love to fish and swim at my boathouse. And springtime is my favorite season.

Thank you sm in advance! <33

Hey of course!!! I’m so glad you enjoyed your first one, thank you for this request!! <3<3

love the amount of info you’ve given, thank you!!

I ship you with… Don Malarkey!

Everything about this match feels PERFECT.

first of all you sound STUNNING, so I feel like Don is gonna notice this first- and not to be objectifying but he’s gonna see ur BOOBS- oh my god he doesn’t stare but you definitely catch him taking a look.

Even though you haven’t got many freckles Don notices these when nobody else does. I feel like once you’re in a close relationship he’ll sit and count them for as long as possible.

Apart from how attractive Don finds you (he’s gobsmacked, pls Luz pinch me back into reality) like you said it’s your charm and smile that he really, really falls hard for. I think the energy you gives off sounds super exciting and passionate. Malarkey deffo finds this enticing.

I feel like in the early stages Don would try to sit next to you/ near you if you were all at the pub together. Whenever he’d make a joke you’d be the first person he’d turn to, ensuring you found it funny.

Malarkey finds you hilarious, you don’t have to worry about making a joke and nobody hearing because Don always has his full attention on you.

catches your eye just to smile at you. This is when your feelings really, really start to grow. I feel like when he figures how an amazing of a person you are he really goes above and beyond to impress you.

Don doesn’t know how high your standards are, but he’d deffo meet them unintentionally ?? As in he’d just go out of his way to do any little thing for you just because he can! Oh my god this man is so sweet.

You know that scene where he goes to pick up his laundry and he’s so polite and tries not to swear??? Well at first he would 100000% not swear in front of you- until he realises you’ve got a dirty mind and he’s SHOCKED.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or stare, jaw dropped in surprise! Either way, he’s a little turned on??? As open as you are with him, and as many jokes as he’ll crack I feel like he’ll forever try to be respectful and not swear in front of you?!

listen as I researched Malarkey he was known for his ‘sense of humour and bad cooking’ SO PLEASE COOK FOR THE POOR GUY. He tries his best, and probably won’t ever stop trying to cook for you- but at the end of the day you enjoy it and produce edible food (unlike him). He’d watch you, sitting on the counter in a childlike manner whilst he attempts to watch and mimic you making the most delicious dish ever.

When he gets more comfortable he LOVES kissing you and he loves knowing you love it too. Makes him blush, literally- at first I think he’d be a little shy and stammer, the first kiss I think would take a while? Maybe you’d have to initiate it because he’s so sweet and respectful omfg nononooo- he’d ALWAYS offer you out his arm to walk with as he loves feeling your smaller hands wrapped around his biceps.

Would smirk whenever you’re in awe of how attractive he is. Pls big him up, he needs it.

let’s say he see’s you getting emotional over something for the first time, I think he’d be in shock? Maybe if you’re watching a movie together or during the war you get a little sad, he’s such an empath, like you, so he probably gets all sad and cuddly too.

Hates nothing more than seeing you upset-

well hates nothing more than seeing you upset over the hands of somebody else 😡.

I have a scenario in my head of Cobb mouthing off at somebody, and you jump to their defence. As soon as you speak Malarkey is wide eyed and ready to fight before Cobb even says anything back. When he does of course fire back with something pure rude Don gets SO ANGRY.

I don’t think he’s the type to get physical, but he definitely starts swearing and gets so defensive- and you’ll rarely see him like this because he’s NEVER EVER angry at you.

He’s intimidating when he gets like that? But it’s all in good intentions because he could never aim it towards you- he’s a sensitive guy so he’s pretty in tune with his emotions. Usually would just get a bit quiet and wonder off to have some space if you two bicker.

I think you’d both be similar in the fact of going a little cold if somethings upset either of you- but after a cuddle I feel like all would be fixed within an hour tops.

Don pouts and sulks so it’s kinda hard to not feel sorry for the guy.

I think the both of you would have such an amazing laugh together, your sense of humour would be perfect and you could easily make jokes about each other without becoming offended. Whether you’re relaxing together at home or out on a date at the bar, the banter between the two of you never stops.

in the midst of the war, let’s say when Malarkey had lost all of his close friends, he really started to worry about losing you. You could tell he’d changed within himself and his grief and the pressure of war was definitely getting to him.

I think you’d be perfect at giving him the reassurance he needs, he definitely would enjoy physical touch, and you’d both be very in tune with each others emotions. Maybe give him a massage or just kiss his cheek every now and then when you’re cuddling- your kind words and actions are huge for Don to push through a dark period.

He’d probably mutter one night how much he loves you and wants to marry you. Sounds very cliche but he means it, and would 1000% follow through. In the mean time, he would find a beautiful ring from somewhere in Austria and Germany- would probably get the other men involved in proposing to you/ wants to marry you in the middle of Europe.

spontaneous kinda guy I think?

When you go home and he meets your family he’s in awe about how competitive you are- and you always win. Well in his eyes anyway- Don and his sense of humour makes him super likeable for parents and siblings, especially if your brothers are over protective? He gives off such charming and sweet energy like yourself and everybody would instantly take a liking to him.

deffo good in bed ;)

Like he just screams BDE and he would deffo know what he’s doing to make you enjoy it. Would want you to enjoy it over anything else. It’s super important to him that your needs are met and respected.

If you two had kids he’d probably make fun of them (ofc not in a nasty way) but he’d give them Mohawks or comb overs and laugh at the stupid hairstyles.

he’s so in love with you seriously, you’re both fire signs so your initial attraction is easily developed into a successful long lasting one. Don feels the same immense love for you 1 year in as he does 10 years in- if not even more.

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discotenny · 11 months

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OHH YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET ITT

I also think that ramuda finds after a while that he does truly enjoy a lot of the things that he thought he was only pretending to like..... I think he did so many cute and fun things but never truly let himself indulge in them to the fullest and always questioned if he actually liked anything, at all, that feeling of emptiness inside and unsure whether or not he could ever enjoy anything

but (seeing this through a fling poly lense. but platonic posse or y/n perspective fits just as much) his reactions to his loved ones, gen being silly or dice being stupid or the two trying to make him laugh.. he reacts the way he would pretend to but it's cuter and cheerier because it's honest... aaaahghghggnvjfjwudfffff ramfdddmdmdmdmdmrzmudassramudamramuramuramura

AMEMURA

also, I um I thought that your discodark tag was inexcplicably #DISCOSHARK and sat here for so long trying to figure out why. oy. amazing tag though I wouls use that

be careful writing smut because omfg every time I've seen a hypmic blog accept smut the horny fans make it so like 80% are smut, minor fans are pushed out and then the author gets tired of only writing smut/overworked from the demand and retires from hypmic 😭 the horny force is strong here

however. I already have a req in mind haha I wil wait until mine and a lot of others are filled before submitting to be fair but... >:3

also imo in the fling poly house... everyone has their own room but they often sleep in one with each other, dice is almost always in ramuda or gen's bed at night and the one everyone usually ends up in is ramuda's

if you don't fall asleep cuddling or ■■■■■■■ dice you wake up with him at the foot of your bed like a big dog 🤭 -jaku anon

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT !!! It’s the inner conflict thats akin to delusion. What if he’s enjoying these things because it’s what he’s supposed to do to keep up appearances. What if he’s smiling and laughing and having fun because it’s all apart of the careful persona he’s built up after all this time.

It doesn’t cross his mind that he could possibly genuinely enjoy the things he does because he thinks everything about him is part of the persona. He doesn’t think the laughs and smiles and fun are real cause he’s never experienced it sincerely before. Through time with Gentaro, Dice, and everyone else in his life though- the line between “Ramuda” and Ramuda blur.

Bit by bit he starts to realize that he’s not laughing to keep up appearances, he’s not eating this ice cream to survive, and he’s not hugging his friends to build artificial bonds.

I appreciate how Hypmic as a brand didn’t make Ramu secretly hate all the pastels and fluff he surrounds himself with. It’s refreshing seeing a male chara of his nature enjoy that stuff personally 🤔🤔🤔 It’s part of what makes Ramu such a good chara to me ^w^

The last time I wrote smut on this blog was when I was a minor writing for Bungo JABSKDBDKDJIS (DWDW IM TURNING 19 SOONTOO 🙏🙏🙏). The horny force is VERYYY much strong in that fandom too if u guys take a peek. And I definitely know what you mean by minor fans are pushed out, it was soooo prevalent back in my Hetalia and BSD eras (separate ansnsjdhdkdndj)

I’ve seen and heard my own stories of how writers would get overwhelmed writing smutfic only and it’s something I do wish to avoid 😣. And I REALLLLY don’t want it to become what the majority of my blog is about. Maybe if I get tipsy again I’ll have a horny thirsts night but that’s about it skdbdkdbdk.

Everyone sleeping in Ramu’s bed is such a thought omg kenkenrnrndmwm. Trying to cramp 4 people with wildly different preferred sleeping positions in one bed is insane. You guys will see more of this in my big sleeping post but I HC Gentaro to be the most cuddliest at night because of how he runs cold. His limbs are long so at least one arm / leg is touching each of you at once.

AND I FULLY AGREE !! Dice is the type to stand at the end of your bed, silent and staring- waiting till you wake up in the middle of the night and it scares the shit out of you. Terrified, you ask him what’s up and he says he had a tummy ache :C

#I’m glad you like the tag name I thought it sounded so dumb dkdbdifbrkfndknd #the first thirst post was gonna be about Ramu KANDKDNDKDNK #manias wordcount gentaro smutfics are incredible btw have you guys seen kdndkdndkdn #ESP THAT ROMANTIC AND SLOW ONE 😣😣🤕😝😝😝#I have a few things ready to post but I feel if I post more than one thing a day it’s not gonna show up in tags or smthn dkdbdkfbfk #as always thank you for sending in asks 🙏🙏 ur a doll muah muah #jakurai anon :3 #asks are fun uwu

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m4nd0l0r · 2 years

Text

More Five Hargreeves Headcanons (That are very much Canon to me)

Description: This are all definitely real! PROOF: I am Five Hargreeves’ Emergency Axe that he talks to rather than Delores (100% REAL!!!)

Author’s note: ah yes.. five x reader headcanons along with my most fav headcanon of all time: transmasc five 💪💪 im battling writer’s block again this is so slay of me (no it’s not) (this month was so trash and this is my compensation for me being M.I.A. SKKSKS) (anyway if you don’t like the idea of five being transmasc… respectfully scroll and don’t say anything pls!! no negativity here!!) (and we know the drill- five is aged up to whatever any of you are comfy w!!) (also tysm for 175 followers??? holy shit??? i appreciate it sm wtf 😭😭🫶)

Five Taglist: @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen @fivelegance @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto @eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths @ghostlycherryblossomwonderland @seconds-not-decades @coolcatlover4 @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-lokilocked @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula @magicstrange @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid @honeycombdumbass @kazuive @oscarisaacsleftballsack @zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery @wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666 @iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist @trashmouthsahra @crinklypink @halfumbrella @wifeofcamillamacaulay (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

Disclaimer: I am not transmasc myself, I’m girlflux so I merely took my own experience trying to identify myself for the last 2-3 years, if I did something wrong with my headcanons, pls message me privately and I will be sure to add/change/remove anything that can considered to be harmful for actual trans men, this is all just for fun and I hope to not offend anyone— I merely want to share headcanons of Five that I love!!

he hates those matted fluffy socks (he’s so me fr), the texture grosses him to the point he would try to trash it (ps. klaus took it from him)

five LOVES comforters, he just tucks himself in and just. sleeps so quietly you’d think he’s dead but he just. does not snore. (you’ve tried to worriedly wake him up once… all you got was an annoyed groan and a painful smack to the lips—)

he hugs himself in his sleep if he doesn’t have blankets (unless you’re in the picture, he’ll definitely just CLING on you) it started when he was in the apocalypse, sleeping by a wrecked mattress store with no blankets, he dusts off the dirty mattress, not bothered to find any pillows or etc, so he just tries to sleep through the cold night with his own warmth, too tired from the chaos… not ready for the days laid out for him

he seems like a cat person, but he actually not so secretly wants a dog (specifically a herder dog for a farm), its in his bucket list for retirement, he wants to play with the pup and have someone by his side after his family fell further apart (s3 ending), then he can go on peacefully knowing he wasn’t rlly that alone, at least fulfilling one want of his

^ however if he could get a cat, he would get a sphynx cat… reason? he wants to match suits and sweaters with the cat (his excuse to you is that he doesn’t want the cat to get lonely being the only one wearing the ugly sweater.. and the sweater is just a plain blue turtleneck.. not even your typical xmas atrocity….)

as a kid, he had a teddy bear named mr pennycrumb, which prompted him to decide to name his soon-to-be pet mr pennycrumb in the future

my boy kins “a lots gonna change” by weyes blood, especially the first stanza, give it a listen and you’ll see.. y o u ‘ l l s e e (though disclaimer, the singer sings the song in 1st pov and uses feminine descriptors… but for the sake of five, just switch it out in your head w masculine coded words)

now- with his identity, as a kid, what awakened him to discover that he truly feels more like a guy is when he saw addam’s family— let me explain myself: he resonated with gomez- as even though gomez is considered “weird” he’s still a perfect husband/gentlemen, his charisma and charm could leave some in pure awe- and all five could think the first time he watched the movie was “i want to be this guy” rather than “i’d want to marry this guy”

with gomez and morticia’s dynamic from the movie, he will definitely incorporate their relationship on how he wants to treat his own s/o, like how he acted with delores, he was all in love and sappy, speaking italian just for her, he definitely took inspo from gomez with all of that, i just know it!!!

in a relationship with you, he would also try to know everything you like, your fixations, hobbies- he appreciates your intellect with your interests, always making sure to listen as you ramble on as your own eyes twinkling with pure interest and he only smiles softly, smitten by the sight of your love for this, how knowledgeable you are, even if its a ‘stupid’ interest or just something so niche others wouldn’t understand, he would try to fully comprehend it- as if it were one of his equations, he would study it just so he can talk to you about it, and see the excitement that radiates out of you when you realize he’s actually interested in knowing, that it wasn’t just a lie to keep you talking as they did something else- no, you notice it- his genuine interest that you see when he talks about his own theories peeks out so clearly, even if he tries to not let it out

if you speak other languages, he will try so hard in learning them just so he can somewhat impress you (for fellow filipinos however…. he cannot pronounce manananggal for the life of me…. you once had him try to say it but it ended up taking half an hour full of his tongue twisting from both his accent and the amount of “n” sounds w the word.. so basically he almost chucked a translator book to the wall— so uh… take that headcanon and r u n)

with his type (romantically), i think he doesn’t have one honestly— its more on the idea that he cherishes anyone who would care for him and vice versa, for example, he finds his siblings ‘annoying’ from their actions, personalities, likes, goals, ideologies and etc, but he still cares for them becos they’re important to him, with you, he could care less if you were rough, brash, shy, not so outgoing as others or something ‘normal’ society wouldn’t appreciate, he isn’t normal either— he’s a guy with a bloody background and superhuman powers, why would he care that much? if anything he would only appreciate you, even if you’re the polar opposite or almost carbon copy of him, if he truly cares about you, he accepts everything about you, just like how he accepts how his family is just dysfunctional as he is

in the topic of relationships and sexuality— i also think that he’s in the aroace spectrum- specifically demiromantic and aceflux (for those who don’t know- demiromantic means that he feels romantic attraction once he develops a strong emotion connection) (as for aceflux, its when someone sometimes feel sexual attraction, but in other times they don’t feel attracted that way, its fluid; changes even)

^ with that said- though its a well-known headcanon, i think he discovered it when he feels uncomfortable with the handler’s flirtatiousness, knowing it was fake— he likes sincerity that are peeking through the mask— not just soft smooth words that sway everyone else, he wants to feel truly loved, especially with everything he’s experienced atp

and now for cough cough scenario headcanons… drum roll please……

five successfully going back to 2019 with ONE (giant) mishap: he’s back in his 13 yr old bod, pre-transitioned AND… he was technically closeted too so.. oh brother….. at least…… he was a late bloomer as a kid so he’s pretty okay that he doesn’t need a binder again.. yet.

HOWEVER, he definitely stole school boy shorts from the other boys’ childhood closets cos his old closet only has uniform w the skirts

he also mentioned that he refers himself as a boy to the rest of the umbrellas so bluntly his family just goes with the flow (they’ve witnessed far more bizarre things atp, they don’t dare try to question this cranky little shit)

five being so ANNOYED with his higher pitched voice again cos he hasn’t took testosterone yet at 13 (he took it once he was in the commission as part of ‘extra’ stuff in his insurance (cough the privilege of being the handler’s favorite cough))

he always— painfully itches himself every time, his fingers scratching his own skin as if he’s trying to get out of his own body, because he doesn’t feel right— he feels like he’s found himself in the different room; it felt wrong to him

with the body change in s1, when handler said he’d give him a better body, she definitely tries to poke him the fact that its a cis male body as a manipulation tactic cos she she knows about his gender dysphoria :”(

speaking of gender dysphoria, it makes his annoyance for being back at his 13 yr old even more prominent cos frankly, he feels like he’s not himself again, especially after finally being so euphoric fully transitioning and all- he has do it all over again, including the insecurities

cough scenario time 🕺(im very lazy to write pls bear w me SKSK)

: younger you (either stealing from your parent who’s a doctor specializing w gender reassignment or from a literal clinic).. just stealing testosterone pills from the cupboard trying to give it to pre-transitioned five— and five is just touched- almost tempted to actually take it, but he doesn’t take it- instead he blips, then puts it back but he still appreciates the thought :((

the euphoria of him wearing his first binder, his first suit, being finally referred as sir and he/him for the first time— right after- when he gets to look at the mirror, he feels so manly, and for once- he felt right in place, not as if he were a missing piece in the wrong puzzle

you referring him as your boyfriend, or husband even, he won’t admit it, but it puts the most giant smile in his face, and his ears go red just from it, not just he feels so honored, but its also cos he feels so validated by you, someone he cares about so much that he swears he could kiss you right then and there <33 (he doesn’t, but in closed doors, he slipped a little peck or two) (i just love this man sm i cant)

#tua five #five hargreeves x reader #number five x you #five x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five x reader #five x you #five hargreeves headcanons #five hargreeves #five headcanons #number five #tua x reader #tua x you #thank you for reading my madness #tua s1 #tua 2 #tua 3 #the umbrella academy

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing.

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing.

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did.

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.”

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more?

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently.

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?”

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.”

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied.

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck?

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice.

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore.

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend.

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.”

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week.

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts.

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid.

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted.

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck.

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point.

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost.

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.)

“Fuck, Hobi!”

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool.

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood.

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.”

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough?

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought…

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse.

He hates this.

You hate this.

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later.

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all.

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him.

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he.

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you.

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back.

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed.

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting.

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me ☠️ what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white?

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response.

[12:09] Jungkook: ???

You frown, wondering what you said wrong.

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out

[12:10] You: why?

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny.

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes.

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you.

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?”

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.”

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.”

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you.

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back.

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!”

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest.

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic.

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door.

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.”

“Well then, can you relay a message?”

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?”

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.”

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.”

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.”

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers.

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident.

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep.

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty.

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family.

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll…

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television.

You don’t reply until very late into the night.

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten.

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry.

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short.

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face

[10:16] Jungkook:

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed.

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy.

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat.

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too.

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :(

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off.

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin.

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable.

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically.

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough.

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt.

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm.

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!”

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start.

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s.

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen.

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok.

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder.

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes.

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you.

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms.

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies.

“It’s Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.”

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton.

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—”

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait.

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?” he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day.

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously.

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees.

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good.

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.”

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick.

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum.

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.”

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure.

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely.

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?”

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle.

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger.

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm.

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.”

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.”

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?”

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb.

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment.

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.”

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips.

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair.

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch.

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty.

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving.

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?”

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!”

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.”

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions.

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric.

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.”

It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion.

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—”

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on.

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight.

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.”

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board.

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.”

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order.

bonus.

“So.”

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair.

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt.

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!”

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?”

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.”

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words.

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?”

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory.

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest.

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsguild #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

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Hello Libra, how are you? I wanted to know if you have any HCs for a modern Sandor and how a relationship with him would be in this scenario. I think that, despite the change in time period, there would still be some difficulty there, considering Gregor and the traumas Sandor carries because of him.

I love everything you write, your blog is definitely one of my favorites, you have a great understanding of the characters personalities and motivations.

Thank you! ❤❤❤

hi there! thanks for leaving such a nice message~~ im glad youre enjoying this silly place ive put together lol

Hmmm so, I can see the Clegane family being working class and have difficulty getting by. They started lowborn in ASOIAF, after all. Sandor's father was instructed with keeping the grounds of a country club or something, and like in the canon, he saved Tytos Lannister's life. In return, Tytos got him a much better paying job elsewhere, perhaps at his own estate.

Sandor still could've been abused and burned by Gregor, and CPS would've been brought in. His father waved it off as an accident, even though he knew better - which just ruined Sandor's faith in him. From a young age Gregor would be violent and get himself kicked out of any "nice" school their father tried to pay for. Then he got kicked out of the public schools. It's honestly amazing he graduated at all, and a lot of that was because of their father and the Lannisters paying the right people. Right away he began working as a bodyguard for them.

Sandor would've had an awful time growing up from the trauma of Gregor's abuse, his dad looking the other way, his mother leaving, his sister dying in an "accident" (or just leaving with their mom), the Lannisters being awful, and so on. I think he ran away a lot, but came back, unsure of where he'd go. If anyone even wanted him. I can see him spending a while on the streets as a teenager, getting into fights. Drinking at a very early age.

Once he's an adult, he also ends up bodyguarding for the Lannisters, even if he hates it. But he doesn't know where else to go or what to do, and has little self-worth.

I think that, even though it's modern times and medicine and facial reconstruction is better, Sandor resisted a lot of it. He's terrified of doctors now and hates hospitals. As an adult, he knows he can get surgery to make his life easier. I think he just wouldn't think he was worth it, even if his severe phobias weren't a problem...

He definitely lives on his own in a fairly crappy apartment. Technically the Lannisters pay well but he barely touches the money. He probably has an old shelter dog or two that he looks after. A motorcycle he likes working on. A few people on the street he recognizes and gives water and money. He'd be a lot more aware of his drinking problem but would still indulge in it when he's especially depressed, though the dogs help him a bit.

(tho if the Lannisters weren't involved, i can see the Cleganes being quite poor and both brothers going into military service... With sandor just hating it and leaving after 5 or so years. Then not knowing what to do with himself, and doing various odd jobs and getting into fucking trouble all the time. You get me.)

Sandor in ASOIAF is quite aggressive and violent, before eventually becoming depressed and defeated. I think for modern!AU, because he doesn't have the repeated trauma of having to kill people for the Lannisters and fight in battles, he just goes straight to the depression and self-loathing. There's still moments of anger (like when he's beating the shit out of a punk that tried to harass a dancer at his work) but it's not as nasty or sustained. Also this being a modern setting, he knows there are resources for getting mental health help, but ... like hell he's gonna do it.

So, relationship. Yeah. He's a mess, you can see it as soon as you meet him. It's a cliche, but someone whose genuinely compassionate and patient would help a lot. They could live in his apartment building, work at the shelter he drops donations off to (he totally makes excuses that he bought the toys/blanket/food for his dogs but they didnt like it... yeah ok...), a bartender or dancer who works at the same club he's a bouncer at, etc etc. Basically someone who can talk to him every other day and slowly get him to come out of his grumpy-ass, tired, depressed shell.

Friends with benefits is easy for him, because whatever, it's sex. It's the emotional connection that he struggles with. So befriending him, then slowly leading into a romantic relationship, will probably get him spooked and come with challenges. But once you're both on the same page and you're able to convince him that it's okay, he deserves happiness and you arent afraid of him, then some progress can be made. He benefits a lot from a stable person creating a simple, peaceful home with two dogs.

#theres so much to unpack here lol #a man you have to drag to the doctor AND the dentist AND a counselor #libra headcanons #sandor clegane x reader

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twicearoundthesun · 3 years

Text

“You can’t be mad.” Momo’s back was against the door, barring them from entering the apartment. She seemed to be stalling.

Nayeon stiffened. She felt Jihyo do the same, next to her.

“The kids are fine.” Momo added, quickly.

They relaxed – marginally.

“Momo, what did you do?” Jihyo said from beside her, obviously anxious to get inside their shared apartment.

“I didn’t do anything. Nothing bad.” Nayeon trusted Momo to take care of the kids wholeheartedly, but the girl was making her nervous. “I did something good. Very good, and you’ll love it. Eventually.”

She turned back towards the apartment, poking her head in to check something before walking inside. Jihyo and her followed.

“Momo, if you dyed my three-year-old sister’s hair bright pink, our mother will haunt you.”

“I like to think Mrs. Im would have found pink hair unique and exciting. Especially if it came from me, her favorite friend of her daughter’s.” Nayeon glared. Jihyo rolled her eyes. “But Chaeyoung’s hair is the same color you left it, I promise.” They finished pulling off their shoes in the entrance hallway and followed Momo into the living room.

The apartment wasn’t on fire, there wasn’t paint on the walls, and everything – including the kids - seemed to be in one piece. In fact, it might have actually been cleaner than before, the girls’ toys no longer littering the carpet. Sana stood in front of the couches, bouncing a fast-asleep Dahyun on her hip and watching lovingly as Chaeyoung and Tzuyu pet Boo, who was laying on his side in front of them. The girl’s backs were to them, and Nayeon could see everyone’s hair was the correct color. She breathed a sigh of relief.

At the realization new people had entered the apartment, Boo rolled over and barked. Everyone turned to look at them.

This was followed by a small yip.

Nayeon froze. Squirming out of Chaeyoung’s arms was – oh no.

“Oh god, Momo, did you bring home a rat?”

“You don’t have the right to call any animal a rat if you own a Pomeranian.” Momo said, quickly moving from her side and lifting a tiny, tiny puppy out of Chaeyoung’s grasp. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, in turn, stood and ran to hug Nayeon and Jihyo.

“UNNIE! LOOK AT THE PUPPY!” Chaeyoung held onto Nayeon’s pants and shook her leg.

“Inside voice, Chaeyoung –” She glanced up at Sana. It was too late, Dahyun was stirring.

“Unnielookatthepuppy!” Chaeyoung pulled at Nayeon again and pointed.

“I see him, Chaengie-”

“HIS NAME IS DOBBY!” Tzuyu yelled, arms around Jihyo, and everyone was too shocked to correct her ‘outside voice’. Dahyun mumbled incoherently, awake now. “We please keep him!”

Nayeon’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She finally got a better look at the dog as Momo brought it over to them and – oh, god, he was cute. He couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old; he looked similar to how Boo did when Momo had first brought him home. Maybe a little younger. Fit in Momo’s arms, laying back like a tiny baby. She looked up at Momo incredulously.

“You bought another dog?!” Jihyo’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife.

“Rescued!” Momo corrected. She glanced at Sana for support, who had just walked over to join them but looked guilty as anything. “Someone abandoned him and he… he really needed a home.”

“So you thought, I don’t know, three three year olds and two dogs wasn’t enough excitement for our home!?” Jihyo was trying to keep her voice low. She was beyond angry. Even the kids could tell - Tzuyu moved from hugging her legs to hugging Nayeon’s, and Nayeon put a hand on her back.

“Technically all the kids and one of the dogs lives with Nayeon.” Momo countered.

Nayeon could have sworn steam came out of Jihyo’s ears.

“I have an idea.” Nayeon tried to sound cheery. “Why don’t we have a little nap time?”

“Nooooo I wan’a pet Dobby!” Chaeyoung frowned. Nayeon turned to Momo, who kneeled down so she was eye level with Tzuyu and Chaeng. The two girls reached out to pet Dobby delicately.

“Babygirl. I think Dobby needs a nap, too. Remember, he’s just a baby.” Momo explained. “Say goodnight to Dobby and you three can take nice nap in mine and Sana-unnie’s bed.”

“Dobby can come nap with us! Like Boo does!” Chaeyoung beamed. Dahyun let out a little whine from Sana’s arms, who was quick to shush her and kiss her head. Nayeon guessed the same fear Dahyun had towards Boo applied to Dobby, which just about made everything worse.

Momo had heard it, too, and Nayeon caught the frown that passed her features for a second. “No, baby, Dobby has to stay out here.”

The two gave her a big pout. Dahyun hid her face in Sana, the only one clearly ready for a nap. That being said, with the excitement of the day, it took only a few minutes to get them settled. Momo looked terrified as they walked back to the living room couches, still clutching the dog to herself. Sana shifted uncomfortably, but sat with an arm around Momo’s waist.

“Momo.”

“Jihyo, he was alone. In an alley. Look at this face.” She held Dobby up. He yawned.

Jihyo just sighed and put her head in her hands. She was clearly at a loss for words.

“Momo, you can’t- these are big decisions.” Nayeon said softly. “I know.. you have a big heart and you can’t stand to see anything suffering, but… We’ve all got a lot on our plate. Maybe he should go to the shelter? He’s a puppy, he’ll definitely get adopted quick…” The betrayed look on Momo’s face and the obvious tears in her eyes made her trail off.

They were interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning. Dahyun came wandering out, looking about as determined as three-year-olds could get.

“Unnie.” She’d said as soon as she marched up to Momo.

“Hi, baby, everything okay?” Nayeon answered for her, as Momo was trying to discretely wipe tears from her eyes.

Dahyun knit her brows, staring at the dog.

“Baby?”

“… Can pet?” Dahyun asked in the smallest voice. “Pet Dobby?”

Nayeon’s confusion was mirrored on everyone’s face. The last time Dahyun had tried to pet a dog that wasn’t Kookeu there’d been tears for almost an hour.

“Of... Of course you can, sweet girl.” Momo whispered.

Sana met eyes with Nayeon, before picking her up and placing her in her lap, within arm’s reach of Dobby.

“Dahyunnie, remember Dobby’s just a baby.” Jihyo seemed to finally get her words back. “So he could be a little, uh, excited.”

Dahyun just nodded. Took a deep breath and stared at the dog. Sana kissed her head. Dobby was sleepy, calm in Momo’s arms, but Momo still held him a little tighter so he’d be still. Dahyun reached a little finger out and slowly ran it over the top of his back paw a few times. The dog seemed unbothered, if he felt it at all.

“Great job Dahyunnie!” Sana cooed, rubbing her back.

A smile spread on Dahyun’s face. “Soft.”

“Yes, very soft.” Momo whispered. Nayeon noted the adoration in her eyes, watching Dahyun face her fears.

Dahyun switched from essentially poking his leg to very hesitantly reaching her hand over and patting his tummy once. The dog picked its head up and looked at her curiously, and the whole room tensed as she pulled her hand back quickly. But Dahyun just mirrored the curious look and tried it again, this time rubbing his belly for a second before pulling back. She beamed up at Momo.

“I like Dobby.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmh.” She nodded, leaning her head to the side against Sana and taking a deep breath. That was enough excitement for the time being, it seemed. “Happy he’s here.”

This seemed to fill Momo with joy and sadness at the same time. Nayeon’s chest ached. She broke. There was no way they’d send this dog to the shelter now, was there? She spared a sideways glance at Jihyo, who looked deep in thought.

“Dobby is –ah. Dobby’s going to get really big. Maybe bigger than Boo.” When Dahyun didn’t react, Momo continued. “We.. Might not, uh-”

“You won’t be too afraid of Dobby once he’s bigger than Boo, right Dahyun-ah?” Jihyo interrupted her.

Dahyun shook her head. “Dobby is nice.”

“Good. It’s going to be crazy with two puppies. But it seems like we collect strays in this house.” She looked at Momo pointedly. “Dobby will be the last one for a very long time.”

Momo’s face lit up. Nayeon let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Of course! Yes!”

Jihyo just shook her head and stood. Dahyun stuck her arms out and Jihyo obliged, lifting her out of Sana’s lap and onto her hip. “But now it’s naptime. You can pet Dobby more once you’ve napped, okay?”

Dahyun nodded, hiding her face in Jihyo’s neck. As Jihyo walked her towards the bedroom, Nayeon heard the kid ask if she saw her pet Dobby. She laughed.

“You’re lucky our three-year-old just saved your ass.” Nayeon chuckled. Momo just beamed down at the puppy, now asleep in her arms.

#baby smc au #working on those requests sorry!!!#nayeon #momo #sana #jihyo #dahyun #chaeyoung #tzuyu #and #dobby #of course #thanks guys #little dubu facing her fears what a cutie #twice au #twice headcannon #twice fanfiction

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euphoricsunflowers · 4 years

Text

dreamy — monsta x

a/n: take a shot every time i say the word helpless lol now tHATS a drinking game also a certain moot of mine may have inspired changkyun’s part but we won’t talk bout that 👀👀 also also do not mind my random ass usage of gifs i just think they’re neat :,)

word count: 1.0k

content: sub!monsta x, dom!gn!reader, somnophilia, wet dreams, nothing much else tbh except degradation (for only kihyun’s)

summary: in short, they’re so pretty when they’re dreaming of you.

son hyunwoo/shownu

you’re awakened by his low groans that faintly sound like whines, opening your eyes to see the strained look on his face. immediately you worry he’s having a nightmare, but when he moans out your name, you know exactly the kind of dream he’s having, whispering to him, “baby bear, you’re so cute when you’re helpless.”

he doesn’t respond, obviously, still in the midst of his dream. your hand reaches down to touch him, feeling the slight wet spot on the front of his boxers. he groans once more, your subtle touch making him stir slightly from sleep, “shhh, go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

he moans out your name again, and he cums, amazing you at how he’s still asleep. his body is so stiff and still, so you keep touching him over his boxers. once he calms down, settling back into sleep, you feel over the wet spot, thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be when he wakes up to that, knowing he slept so dirty.

lee hoseok/wonho

“can’t stop thinking about me, even in your dreams, can’t you, sweet bunny?” you smile endearingly (having been awake the whole time he’s been sleeping) upon hearing him moan out your name, “you’re so precious. i almost want to wake you and make you admit all the things you’ve been dreaming about...”

you don’t do anything, simply watching him squirm around, watching the way he humps against the bed but also watching the way his cheek squishes against the pillow. even in his sleep, he’s still so erotic and adorable at the same time.

“... but i think that’d be a bit too cruel, don’t you? you get shy quite easily, so maybe i should pretend this didn’t happen in the morning,” you decide, but after thinking about his red cheeks and his shy smile and all he’s cute little habits when he’s embarrassed, “i should, but i definitely won’t.”

lee minhyuk

“puppy,” you groan as you feel him moving around, gripping his waist tighter, “quit moving, puppy, you should be—” you halt as you hear him moan, “—asleep.”

his face is one of pleasure, and you wonder just what in his dream is getting him to be this affected, what’s making him thrash and hump around helplessly. drool starts to run down his chin, and he’s truly a sight to behold like this.

“what a stupid, horny dog you are, hm?” you whisper in his ear using the sweetest voice you could muster up, “you’re so cute when you’re needy, min, i wish you could see just how pathetic and dumb you look right now. maybe i should take a picture.”

yoo kihyun

“dirty boy,” you smirk as you whisper in his ear, feeling him shiver even as he lay there, moaning but still so deep in sleep, “you’re so dirty for having a wet dream next to me. but i’m sure you couldn’t help it, could you my little whore?”

he pathetically wriggles his hips around, trying to find more stimulation, but you refuse to help him, instead choosing to touch him just enough to tease him, keep him riled up.

“no, you couldn’t,” you answer your own question for him, “but that’s okay. it’s okay that you’re a disgusting, dirty, horny slut, can’t even keep yourself from wanting to be ruined in your dreams. kihyun can disappear for now, all you have to be is mine.”

chae hyungwon

as much as you were down for sexy times most of the day, it was like 2 am and you just wants to go to sleep. it’s just a little hard to do that with him grinding against your ass and moaning like a whore into your ear. it was hard to get mad at him, because you know he’s not even conscious, but it was still annoying.

“please, please,” he begs in a whisper, pulling and holding you closer and tighter when the stimulation isn’t enough, “more, i need more.”

and again you’re aware it’s not his fault, but you can’t help that maybe a part of you wants to see him suffer and struggle. at least then he’ll wake up so adorably horny and confused.

lee jooheon

“honey,” you whisper, kissing his shoulder, actually attempting to awaken him, “honey, dearie, wake up,” you whisper again, a little bit louder this time.

he groans, but his eyes flutter open, “yeah?” he hopes that you couldn’t tell what he was dreaming about, but judging by your face, you definitely do.

“you were having a... certain kind of dream, baby,” you confirm his fears, before cupping his cheek sweetly, “care to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“i... i dreamt about you pinning me down, and doing w-whatever you want to me,” he admits, knowing he could never lie to you, you’d get the truth out of him one way or another.

you reach for one of his hands, kissing his wrist while looking him in the eyes, “well, i’m wide awake because of you, and we have all night, baby. how about i make that dream come true?”

im changkyun/i.m

you come home late at night, and he’s already asleep in your shared bed. he’s curled up in your hoodie and his underwear and he clutches onto his pillow, drooling on it slightly. you chuckle as you go to change, leaning down to kissing his temple, but when you pull back, you’re startled by a soft little moan leaving his lips.

you finally notice how he’s grinding against his pillow slightly, letting out quiet and breathy moans with your names and begs for more mixed in, “kyunnie,” you mumble lowly absolutely, adoring how soft and sweet and helpless he looks.

when you can finally climb into bed with him, you curl up behind him, loving the way he’s getting more desperate with his movements and the way his ass hits your pelvis every time he grinds against the pillow. you don’t do anything to interfere, simply watching as he falls apart so cutely.

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9

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inskz · 4 years

Text

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse.

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence.

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them).

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you.

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now.

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago.

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh).

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him.

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen.

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff.

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it.

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups.

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything.

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas.

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly.

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil.

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear.

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch.

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little…

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter.

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered.

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask.

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain.

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in.

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt.

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately.

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget).

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground.

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you.

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch.

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy.

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials.

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter.

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview.

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes.

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can.

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today.

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso.

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling.

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue).

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you?

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time.

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall.

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next.

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right?

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should.

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball.

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves.

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious.

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in.

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start.

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours.

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil.

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - -

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him.

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross.

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning.

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes.

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it.

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe.

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars.

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate.

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?

470 notes · View notes

starglow-xx · 4 years

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 3)

platonic! yosano akiko x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff but trigger warning!! there may be a sensitive topic for others

*getting grabbed and pulled to an alleyway! alcohol mentioned!*

please remember that yokohama isn’t the friendliest place, especially at night.

previous: part 2 : their beloved president

author’s note: same ages as last time!! (so that means everyone is one year younger than canon; that makes yosano 24)

this one is actually pretty long :0

i got info abt her likes on her wiki page (careful! there’s spoilers!)

and yosano is a queen and no one can tell me otherwise

the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

going grocery shopping was an okay chore in your opinion

it honestly depended on your mood or whatever kind of shit happens when you go shopping

cause like something always, always happens whenever you go do groceries

sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and sometimes it’s just plain weird

one time some weirdo proposed to you in the middle of the store asking for a double suicide

he was good looking you’d admit but it’s not like you’d ever see him again

or so you thought

a n y w a y s

every so often, you’d run out of real person food in your apartment

you mostly survive off all of the leftover bakery treats and ingredients—which works out pretty well actually—but bakery supplies unfortunately also run out quite often

and also unfortunately, one time when both fukuzawa & ranpo took a visit to Sakura’s, fukuzawa argued that “no you can’t live off sweets for the rest of your life”

ranpo was scandalized and scrambled to cover your ears

you guys were at it for a while

in the end you sided with fukuzawa causing ranpo to go off about “betrayal from the people he cared most abt” or smth like that

you guys were okay again after bribing him with sweets :)

for bakery supplies you usually have them delivered bc you order them in large quantities bc ahaha no way were you gonna carry like 15-20 50 pound bags of flour no way

when days like those happen, you close up the bakery early so you aren’t walking home when it’s too dark

you scheduled it to happen every first saturday of the month

on those saturdays, you close at 5 instead of at 8

currently, you were at the grocery store looking for basic cooking ingredients such as proteins, vegetables, fruits, and most importantly, snacks

ranpo’s been rubbing off on you

the sun was starting to set and you were walking home with your two bags of groceries when shit went down

tbh you were kinda expecting it cause your grocery run was peaceful for once

but what you weren’t expecting was a wack-a-do to appear out of goddamn nowhere right when you were opening the side door to get to the staircase up to your apartment

like honestly

let a woman do her own thing

the man who grabbed you tried to covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream but you didn’t exactly make it easy for him

you kicked and thrashed around even using the grocery bags—that were somehow still in your hand—as a weapon and the man struggled but he was still bigger than you and was able to bring you to a nearby alley

he reeked of alcohol and you spotted a wedding band on his left hand

not that you cared about the detail in the moment

you kicked him in the groin and in response he let you go only to fall on broken glass that was in the alley way

using the wall to help yourself up, you grabbed a nearby wooden stick and struck him right on his back

your attacker fell and you immediately turned on your heels to escape only to fall back down on the hard cold ground once again

you lift your face up and look back to see the man holding onto your ankle

grabbing a shard of glass—cutting yourself in the process— you begin to swing it at him only for him to easily grip your wrist and stop you

you get ready try and kick him in the groin again but you’re interrupted as your attacker gets sucker punched and flies to wall

you look up to see your savior and you’re blessed to see a beautiful woman, probably not that much older than you are—she’s probably around ranpo’s age— donning a white long sleeve button up, a matching black necktie, knee length skirt, and gloves, along with tights, red heels, and a pretty butterfly clip in her short black hair

but what you really notice is her eyes

ranpo’s eyes were pretty but you like hers just a bit more

you’ve always liked the color magenta

the pretty lady holds out her hand and you take it graciously and thank her as she helps you up

as that’s happening, your attacker gets himself onto his feet and his groan catches both of your attention

he struggles to stand and the pretty lady simples saunters over to him and delivers an uppercut knocking him out cold

you’re stunned and you breathe out a “thank you” making her turn towards you

she notices the condition you’re in

bleeding scrapes on your hands, arms and legs, small rips in your clothes like your tights, blouse, and skirt, and the ruffled state of your hair and clothing

she asks if you live nearby and you tell her that you own the bakery that’s one or two buildings away

when you tell her that, it clicks in her mind that you must be the bakery girl ranpo’s been talking about and the friend fukuzawa was cat sitting for

it’s been abt two weeks since ranpo and fukuzawa first met you and since then, they’ve seen lucky in the office plenty and the boxes of your signature sweets even more

if those two trust you, she has no reason not to

she smiles at you, holds out her hand for you to shake, and introduces herself as the doctor of the armed detective agency

your eyes widen and you smile back at her shaking her hand

“ah! you must be yosano-sensei then! ranpo-san and fukuzawa-san have talked about you! it’s so nice to meet you! im (l/n) (y/n)!”

“they’ve talked about you too, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you (y/n)”

after that exchange she insisted on bringing you home to treat you wounds which you told her it wasn’t necessary

she gave you a pointed look and that was when you realized what state you were in

you sighed and weakly gave in to which she only grinned at

before leaving the alley she walks over to the unconscious man and pulls out his wallet for some sort of identification and home address as you try to see if there’s any groceries still salvageable

after texting the details to kunikida, yosano turns to you poking around the now ruined grocery bags

she simply rubs your back and tells you that the both of you could go buy more groceries together as she was meaning to get some anyways; she even said she’ll pay for you

you refused obviously but she, unknowingly, used the same tactic fukuzawa used with you

“so you’re saying you don’t need groceries?”

“...”

*cue an eyebrow raise from our resident queen*

“...you agency members don’t like making things easy for me huh.”

you gave in reluctantly and at this point you don’t even know why you try negotiating with them

and that’s only three of them

apparently, she was on the other side of the street on the way to buy groceries for the agency when she noticed different produce items on the other sidewalk leading to the alley and she went to check out what happened

ironically, the way to the grocery store from the agency makes you go past Sakura’s but she didn’t realize it until after the two of you had met

before you know it, the two of you are in your apartment kitchen as she cleans and patches up all of your wounds

as she does so the two of you have a little girl talk

you find it quite comforting bc since you opened up Sakura’s you haven’t really had the chance to connect to many people much less other women

you definitely see yosano as your cool, loving, badass older sister

she thinks you’re adorable and agrees with ranpo’s opinion

yup

that’s right

the opinion that you’re like a little kid </3

you called it a betrayal and all she did was laugh at you <//3

“awhh that’s really cool yosano-sensei!—MFPH?!?”

*squishing your cheeks the same way ranpo did* “ranpo-san was right (n/n)-chan, your cheeks are squishy!”

“?!”

after that small fiasco, the two of you talked some more and bonded over your love for flowers, japanese sweets, and much more!!

you even made a date to have a girls day to go shopping and eat out!

you’re internally squealing a bit bc it’s been a while since you’ve gone shopping

yosano notices and she giggles behind her hand not saying anything bc she knows you’ll only throw a fit

the two of you came around the topic of ranpo when lucky passed by

lucky quickly warmed up to the doctor and cozied up in her lap

“i wish ranpo-san was able to meet lucky when he came by the first time, but then again, he’d probably throw a tantrum if i don’t pay attention to him for 5 seconds”

she snorted at that and like fukuzawa, she shared stories abt the slightly older male

“ranpo-san doesn’t know how to ride a train?”

“unbelievable right?”

“for someone so intelligent i expected more from him”

“i’ll be telling that to ranpo-san, (n/n)-chan”

“wha—?! yosano-sensei please don’t!”

like ranpo, she’s also a tease </3

but you love her anyway <3

eventually, she finished patching you up and promised to treat you to a new set of clothes when the two of you go out

“you don’t need to lose a good set of clothes just because of a sleazy man (n/n)-chan! you deserve better!”

you were going to argue that the rips in your clothes were fairly small and could easily be fixed—except the tights—but you stopped in your tracks when you remembered that it was practically useless to argue against an ada member

the two of you walked to the grocery store and bought both of your needed supplies—along with some extra goodies—and then she walked you back to your place bc it was already a bit dark out

but even if it wasn’t, she would walk you anyways

besides, if anything happened to you, she’s 1000% positive that ranpo and fukuzawa are gonna flip the fuck out not that she wont cause she most definitely will

speaking of which

you were drinking a bottle of water as the two of made your way back to Sakura’s when all of a sudden

“(y/n) you do realize that i have to tell shachou and ranpo-san about what happened today right?”

you choked on your water

“yosano-sensei you can’t! if you do they’ll freak! they won’t leave me alone for at least two weeks! one if im lucky!”

“exactly the point”

you just accepted your defeat already knowing that you’d lose

but maybe you can simmer down their anger towards the bastard with sweets and lucky

you arrived at Sakura’s shortly after and after bringing groceries in, you packaged a bunch of pastries leftover from today—bc you closed early—and bc you’re well aware that ranpo doesn’t share any of the sweets you send him with

you even gave yosano her own special box filled with goodies she loves, and a thermos of fukuzawa’s favorite, your special hot honey lemon tea

other than the sweets, you prepared lucky to spend the night at fukuzawa’s

you really really hoped that doing these things would make them calm down

you shivered at the thought of what their responses would be

you felt really bad for giving yosano all these things to carry and that you were keeping her very late

she assured you that she was fine and that if someone tried to mess with her she’d kick their ass

and after exchanging numbers, the magenta eyed queen bid you a good night and walked back to the agency with lucky walking by her heels

arriving back at the agency, yosano was greeted with some concerns asking if she was alright bc she came back from her grocery run pretty late

(she usually goes in the mornings but today was pretty busy so she left in the late afternoon but now it was already dark)

she waved off the concerns and plopped a couple boxes of your signature bakery boxes at ranpo’s desk, the one for her at her own, the last few boxes in the kitchen for any other agent or clerk to grab, placed the thermos on the desk fukuzawa was by, and picked up lucky and handed him to the president

the two males were pleased with what yosano had brought them, and pleased that another agency member had the chance to meet you

fukuzawa was rubbing lucky and ranpo already snacking on treats as yosano expected

but here comes the hard part

or maybe it’s gonna amusing who knows

“i met (y/n) today.”

“we could tell.”

in goes another treat in the green eyed man’s mouth

“would you like to know how?”

“you bumped into each other, had girl talk, made plans to go out, went grocery shopping, and you brought me and shachou presents.”

“great job ranpo-san, you’re almost completely correct.”

this caught the attention of basically everyone bc they knew ranpo was never “almost completely correct”

“we ended up meeting bc she got attacked on her way home from grocery shopping, i treated her wounds, then we had girl talk and did all the other stuff”

ranpo and fukuzawa froze right in their tracks

“i sent all the info of the bastard to kunikida”

“kunikida.”

“yes shachou”

“find out everything about that man and bring it to me and ranpo”

“...yes shachou”

“and yosano”

“yes?”

“text (y/n) and tell her that her cat, tea, and pastries aren’t going to work as a bribe”

just as you finished taking a shower you sneezed

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