#maybe will post general game thoughts sometime!

[indiestsnake]

sometimes I wonder if my parents are part of the reason I’m so scared of being vulnerable.

uhhhhh ramble. not necessarily a vent, just getting some thoughts out after a revelation I had. but it isn’t exactly my brand of silliness lol. and it’s long. so ye :P

showing people what I like rlly scares me. showing people what I do in my private time even more so. like, i essentially cannot listen or watch anything without headphones, with my screen turned away from the room. same with books. Even if it’s a friend who literally follows me on tumblr, i cannot type out a silly post with them looking over my shoulder. i just can’t.

and I don’t know why I’m like this. but I had a thought in the shower tonight.

my parents never trusted me to be safe online. but at the same time, they left me alone with full internet access at seven years old. obviously I saw shit I wasn’t supposed to! so they would just… ask me to show them the video I was watching. or to take off my headphones. sometimes they did this during family gatherings. and those moments, just nervously watching them judge every word said, every visual, and it was just agonizing. this was never an alone thing, there was always other family members in the room, watching me, judging me. And to add, I was a young child with undiagnosed ADHD, anxiety, and probably some other forms of neurodivergence. so I’d repeat lines under my breath, make motions with my hands. just stimming, Yknow? but if they saw me doing too much of that, they’d ask me to take my headphones off and replay it.

so I started turning my screen away. hiding it. getting more and more anxious any time they asked to check, even when I wasn’t watching anything bad. and for the record, they never found a single bad thing. maybe some swear words when I was like 10. oh, be still my heart. and then they asked me to do it. during thanksgiving.

when 10-12 total people were in the room.

most of which I never spoke too outside of family gatherings.

for a solid three minutes. just… staring at me. listening. judging.

I remember that feeling vividly.

and it just kept going. they stopped checking as I got older, as I gained their trust, as i got better at hiding. and they probably figured out that around 11-12 years old, they didn’t want to see whatever I was watching anyway. but the anxiety stayed. anytime they called my name, asked me a question, I would get this massive pang of anxiety. that they’d… I dunno, find out. that they’d looked through my tablet and would soon be shipping off my private personhood to some doctor to make me normal. that I’d be scolded, scorned, lose my access to my favorite games and content creators and all that.

that still remains. dulled, somewhat. but when my mom simply says my name to ask a question, I still get that pang.

…

hm.

I love my parents by the way. They’re amazing, far better than most parents, especially in their generation. they’ve improved so much, and they are miles, miles, MILES better than the average for parents of two high schoolers. but I just… had to get this off my chest.

maybe my upbringing… wasn’t as perfect as I claim.

[moonstandardtime]

i want to put link in isat. im sure hed do fine. the heros spirit endures

[carpathiians]

ok this might be a crazy thing to say but if we pretend joviers real for a minute do you think after ch6 javier ever remembered how ttheyd sleep in eachothers arms as he was trying to fall asleep all alone and just fucking broke down becauskdmmkdkmmdkjdkdkndm *gets dragged away from the keyboard forcefully*

[humanmorph]

my millie+leap friendship thoughts except it's actually mostly about millie. i tried to make this readable (coherency-wise)... and it's not even everything i have in my head about them. just a few words:

I looove Millie+Leap friendship (in my head it's Millie'n'Leap like one word. It's fun to say) I think they are besties.

I also think that „Leap has my back as long as it's convenient for him.“ sure is A belief to have about your best friend!!! & I really like that!! (We are not even talking about LEAP’S Millie beliefs. Those are only like, borderline positive or negative. And I also like that. He’s kind of a bitch. This isn't about him though honestly mostly Millie & though I THINK I could write more, it would be wayyyy extrapolating than even this.) I mean like, those beliefs aren't/don't have to be the whole descriptor of/the characters whole relationship, but they are there for a reason! So. I’m simply thinking about it and turning it around in my head.

And it’s just good Millie characterization too for me (also for Leap, as the other person in this relationship, but I simply have thought about Millie more on account of She's My Favourite & can speak better to how I interpret this from her perspective). It's the first close friendship she's made after being on the run from everything she's ever known (which sucked. GLORY was bad but she did also have friends & people she cared about then... See Si’dra) & then she gets captured and forced to do the same shit AGAIN? Under someone like Clementine Kesh? This is a bonding experience. It's a bad one but it is nontheless. And they have similiar goals too (get the fuck out of there).

(An aside, but I really loved during the Post Mortem when Austin talked about something he’d do differently if he had the chance: asking the prisoner-PCs to get drives that weren’t about them escaping, and rather something where escaping would be a step towards that other drive. And how both Keith and Sylvi talked about the Being a prisoner and wanting to get out being very important to Leap and Millie’s characterization to the point they would’ve been played completely differently if that wasn’t the case. It was a cool discussion. That was a very good Post Mortem. Everyone should take notes for PALISADE Post Mortem questions-wise.)

And then they do get out. And they join Millenium Break. And then aside from wanting to leave prison and hating the people they work under they’re just also kind of different people with different motivations and wishes and it shows during the Kingdom Game and after… Like Millie is someone who throughout the Kingdom Game starts to believe that she can change something and help people (and not just via violence, the Strand Semaphore project is so important). And she makes more friends on Fort Icebreaker. She meets Si’dra again and that relationship is ALSO an important one (I like them I should think about them more. There is a bit where Millie describes them traveling together to set up the Strand stuff...). And she gets closer to Broun by working with them. Etc etc. People like her because She Is A Delight, and she hangs out with different people but Leap’s still there as a person that’s important to her even as they probably see each other way less due to Millenium Break business and having different missions and whatnot.

And in my head there's something special too about Leap really pushing for the attack on Vigil City to help that Equiaxed community and Millie backing him up bc 1) duh but 2) something vulnerable about it because he gets actually emotional about it (unusual for him). And do they talk about THAT ever I wonder? If they did it would've had to been before the mission because after. Well that attack is the one where Millie loses the squad she's been pretty much training & hanging around with. And like shuts herself off again except from a few people, one of which IS Leap (and then Si'dra and Broun and that's it). (Such a good Millie Moment btw. One of my favourites). But I would say that's much more of a 'let's get away from everything for a bit' kind of hangout not a 'hash out your grief' hangout. (Another aside but I am like. I mentioned this above but imagine if Leap had had a drive about this equiaxed community or something or even just the time to contact them (I think it just got lost with so much stuff going on. I know players can't follow every thread they are given and make choices but. Ooohhh well I'm just thinking about it).)

Like I really don’t think they’re the type of friends to talk about shit. There's since scene where Millie is like „Hey I'm bad at this stuff, but are we like, cool?“ that I love a lot. I love youuuu Millieeee. So they either don't do this OR it's very Rare and honestly mostly uncomfortable when they try (fun to me : D). And neither likes it all that much. So they‘re fine. It‘s fine. There’s so much going on all the time I’d rather just hang out with you and shoot the shit than get into Stuff. That type of deal.

So it's all of this BUT like... They're best friends. They DO care about each other (in whatever way they do or don't show that) & also continue to, I just think its complicated and weird, and that they grow apart a bit too! Expecially when Leap leaves and Millie stays, and then gets disillusioned with MB leadership, and then SHE leaves...

And I think. Well I'm of two minds on Leap asking Millie to come with when he leaves bc it's nice to think. Saying hey you have a place with me. Look I drew a comic about it once. I like that. But for me in the end the weird tension option wins out. And like she's a bit bitter about it. She wouldn't have come, not at the point that he left, before Valence died, before they got really fucked up in that Auspice mission and there was this kind of ideological split in the MB leadership. But he didn't offer in the first place, so it wasn't an option after she wanted to leave, either...

(There’s a line that’s like „I haven't been getting any better offers“ in PZN36 when Millie is agrees to leave with Broun et al and it made me go OH? (delighted). Like that has to be about MB generally too but. Well I can spin this. As a headcanon I do like to think maybe Millie visited Leap after leaving Oxbridge and then kind of wanted him to offer again & he didn't.) Because I think Leap is 1) practical type of guy and 2) just thoughtless sometimes and didn't ask because he thought well she's not coming we each have our own shit going on. Which makes sense then but also. Man!

(Just about Millie now) And after all that. The the whole shit in the finale. And her at the end of PARTIZAN... How much are you changed as a person after being kind of melded with the one True Divine and also being there when your rival (also a god) dissolves/comes as close to death as a divine possibly can? AND when someone you if not were expecially close to but worked with and got along and maybe admired died to help you get out? There’s a reason she left everything behind and ran and never stopped(well we don't know that. But. Well she's off somewhere doing something). Auh... Millie....

ALSO addition I don't wanna bother working in anywhere I think I'm jumping around too much already: I listened to Millies Pusher episode a while ago and Sylvi talked about Millie had trust issues briefly and I was so happy. Expecially when she & Austin were referring to Leap leaving Millie behind in the DESERT SQUIRE arc. And it's so fun because Millie clearly is mad at him for a bit after that but she just kind of chooses to get over it? (That's the scene where she approaches him like hey are we cool I mentioned earlier. And like wants assurance that they have each others backs, and she brings up Clem, etc.). That's where that belief I mentioned at the start comes from too, and it stays, since... I don't think THAT many beliefs get challenged in general, but Millie and Leap don't get there. And it's like... OK I actually still can't form a coherent sentence about this specific thing because the thing is Millie SAYS multiple times that Leap & she have each others backs and she acts like it, too (backing Leap up) and still with this in the back of her head. Millie as someone who wants better things for herself and isn't used to getting them in her life. There's something in my head I can't quite grasp & articulate. I don't know. It makes me think. It's why I wrote roughly 1900 words total here. I love her & anyways trust issues make sooo much sense for Millie in general ouhh I love to think about it. That's why Gucci et al (MB leadership) fucking up and letting the team down like that after the Auspce mission / Valence's sacrifice hits so hard and she goes back to leaving, just wanting to live a quiet life, claw your way out...

so. TL;DR

besties

it's weird and they're close in certain ways but not others and they like to hang out and relax around each other and/or cheer each other up but also dont open up to each other

I love fraying and/or complicated friendships. I think fraying and/or complicated friendships are soooo fun

Millie💙💙💙💙

a little picture : )

and lastly some fun stuff too. since you read everything else.

Millie sleeps at Leap's room sometimes either for a sleepover hangout type deal or when he's somewhere else & she just wants to sleep somewhere that's not... hm. In my mind she's sleeping in like a bunks-type situation you know like. How bedrooms for soldiers on a military vessel would probably be like. I'm not sure that's canon though. But you get the picture there it's a bit of peace and quiet

I dont know. the chost where Keith says Leap drinks any hot tea because she shows off by drinking boiling water keeps making me go show off to WHO. WHO is impressed by this and I'm not sure the answer is Millie but she'd probably at least think it's funny. So they do dumb bullshit. Like that's just canon I think they never stop throwing food but I think they get a lot better about it (not as in it's less annoying for everyone else but as in it's like a stupid party trick because they get really good at it)

re: that (showing off), they do the thing where you put your hand flat on a table and stab a knife between the fingers getting faster each time (I feel like this has to have a specific name?! Wikipedia just says knife game. alright) but to each other. And I think it goes almost very bad at least one or two times expecially because they also do this when they get drunk

Idk how good a job either does but they do wingman type stuff for each other for sure. I don't think Millie even needs it (she is a delight. And hot) but she probably also gets awkward and nervous sometimes & I'm going back to the same scene as before again sorry but after being like we're cool? she asks leap hey I'm about to talk to someone & I need you to pull me out if I start being strange. Which isn't quite the same as wingman-ing but it could get there. And I think Leap is confident that he says he doesn't need that but I also think he won't pass up a chance to by hyped up either. his ego...

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it’s all been said before but the whole pronouns thing for some people is getting so ridiculous it’s honestly just sad

[lxmelle]

Those letters for his students was like Gojo’s way of showing consideration for them.

That’s what Geto Suguru, the “Gojo translator”, would say to them, if he was there.

I mean, there was a reason they were best friends - Geto understood him the best. He helped him learn how to (and the importance of) connecting to others - how to not be lonely.

It was the same in the scene with Kuroi. Right before he shouted for Gojo over the time, he just instinctively knew how to connect with Gojo and helped others with sympathising with Gojo.

I didn’t play the JJK game but I think the undercurrent dynamics is similar. Their bond. The exclusivity. Love. The whole breakup was about their friendship. The change the new generation got was also due to the path forged by them. As it stands, Gojo is shown to be largely misunderstood and nobody aside from Yuta has shown much affection for Gojo. Maybe Yuji ... to some degree. But I digress.

Maybe it’s an unpopular opinion, but considering how Geto-centred Gojo’s GIGA Character book was, he was likely influenced by Geto’s strong protective love for his “family”.

It makes sense to me that Gojo thought it would be important to put the students’ minds at ease with any thoughts/questions about their family. Hence the letters to help tie up loose ends.

Megumi was shown to be thinking about his father, whin he assumed was out there somewhere. Even if he didn’t want to know, there is a subconscious level of unfinished business from thinking this. And to know that Gojo killed him, may have helped him realise that his sensei had his back all this while. He was worth protecting all this while. That chapter of his life can truly close.

And just how bloody typical of his sensei, who has no “delicate-ness” about him!

As a sensei, and as a person, Gojo always protected others from his own personal concerns. He and Geto both stubbornly lived & fought “alone” because this was just their belief as the burden of the strongest = to protect others. The line was drawn and Gojo only ever wanted Geto to understand him, hence his conversation in 236. Only ever needed Geto by his side: hence his only complex was Geto leaving him behind.

We see this in how Shoko felt distant from them both. Stating in her inner monologue how she could never love either of them, but she was there - insinuating what they had between them was not something she could give (love) but her friendship was there if only Gojo let her in. And we see it in how, when she tried to connect with Gojo post-unsealing, by including Geto’s body as someone to be retrieved, he was a bit taken aback, starting his sentence with a long pause “……...” and keeping it simple / not elaborating (だな - it’s like the equivalent of a “yeah” but implies agreement).

Also, the fact the students and others can joke and call him an idiot, etc. means he really hid it well. Gojo protected them all. (As a teacher and adult should, I guess.)

I’m reminded of this scene.

Geto helped Gojo empathise & “not bully the weak”, but to also consider what else may be important... even if they may not think so themselves.

Until they receive what they thought they didn’t want, only to realise it was what they needed after all.

Cuz… y’kow: people (especially children) don’t always know what they want or need.

Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need. What you need isn’t necessarily what you want.

Gojo & Geto lived through that too... didn’t they? On so many levels… wanting, needing, denying, losing, yearning. Carrying their burdens they had nobody to share with. Making decisions on their own. Giving to the other a piece of their heart. Sacrificing themselves. Accepting each others loneliness as their own. Thinking they were better off loving the other by being apart.

The painful lessons that shaped the way for the new world. Children given the protection from The Strongest Sorcerer of the Modern Era. Granted a world with fewer curses for 10 years due to the Strongest Curse User.

Children who had adults to guide, protect, and care for them.

Children who do not have to be killed for the mistakes of others, who were forced to commit sins, or for being born a certain way.

I think every single sorcerer who were adults helped the kids in some way. The layers and layers of this story is just... overwhelmingly beautiful.

Much remains to be seen now. I’m worried that Yuta will have to live in Gojo’s body and that Kenjaku’s eerie words of Yuta being “the next Gojo Satoru” will extend beyond that battle.

People on X seem to be speculating whether a world without curses will exist (going back to jjk 0 and Geto’s ideals). What of the barriers without tengen? Some question reality as we are being shown - is it an elaborate dream? Hm.

I hope for the plant/flower trio at least... Megumi and Yuji can use their shared tragedy as vessels who committed sins to bond and support one another. Nobara is a great buffer and heroine in her own right. Their dynamics are really amazing. Independent, yet so bonded.

I’d love to see Gojo & Geto at peace. I guess whatever happens, chapter 236 is a bit like salvation. And doesn’t Megumi’s smiling pic (above) look similar? If these two smiled as if they had no regrets , we can assume Megumi smiled sincerely upon receiving the letter, too.

As long as Gege doesn’t do anything to change it.

Please please don’t. They deserve a reward for their hard work and sacrifice!

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

－－－

Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

[astonmartinii]

bite the hand | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem musician!reader [face claim: clairo + clairo, boygenius and taylor swift music]

having fans are great, but sometimes it goes to far and you have to bite the hands that feed you

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 913,551 others

tagged: beabadoobee

yourusername: howdy ladies, gentlemen and all that's in between, it's single release day. i had so much fun on this track with bea and getting to pour all of my love for maxy onto such a cute melody... hope you all enjoy my loves x

view all comments

user1: YES THANK YOU MOM THIS IS JUST WHAT I NEEDED TODAY

landonorris: how many letters in devoured?

yourusername: ATE 💅

landonorris: ate and left NO crumbs

maxverstappen1: why oh why did i ever introduce you two

yourusername: because you love us both?

maxverstappen1: i sure love you, jury is out on lando

landonorris: boooooooooo

user2: ugh if y/n had to date an f1 driver why couldn't she go for one of the hot ones like lando or charles?

user3: for real like bro he just drags her down

user4: you can't be serious? he's a professional athlete at the top of his sport and by what they show us a massive softy who loves y/n? why would we want anything else for her?

liked by yourusername

user5: y/n will NOT stand for any max bashing idk why you guys try it every time

maxverstappen1: so unbelievably talented and the artist of her generation

yourusername: maybe it's because i have a top notch muse ?

maxverstappen1: NO NO IT'S ALL YOU YOU ARE THE ARTIST I AM JUST LUCKY TO BE IN YOUR VICINITY

yourusername: i am the lucky one baby

danielricciardo: leave your cute shit offline i already have to hear it all of the time let me be on instagram

yourusername: nope love my boyfriend too much

maxverstappen1: nope love my girlfriend too much

user6: they're so insufferable i love them

user7: this song bangs so much more when you pretend it's not about ... him

user8: bro is acting like max verstappen ran over his puppy

user7: sorry i don't want a GREAT artist and BEAUTIFUL woman being dragged down by THAT

user9: you are insane, you do not know y/n, you enjoy her music, that doesn't give you the right to have power over things in her personal life

user10: you people are why this fanbase has a bad name and before long y/n will get fed up too

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 829,043 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: the off weekend spent right

view all comments

user13: i need a man so obsessed with me that all he does is post my face

user14: crazy that all this guy does is wax lyrical about how much he loves her and she's like never at his races ... interesting

user15: and her weirdly entitled fanbase say he doesn't deserve her when she clearly doesn't support him as much as he supports her

yourusername: i love you and our soft little weekends, i wanna do it all the time :(

maxverstappen1: gosh our day jobs are really quite unconventional i guess we should just retire to a remote island to live on a small farm?

yourusername: you said it not me i just wanna be anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i love you <3

user16: RETIRE TO A REMOTE ISLAND? SOMEONE TELL THIS RAT THAT IF HE IS THE REASON WE DON'T GET MUSIC WE WILL RIDE AT DAWN

user17: babe have you ever thought that maybe the reason he said that he wants to retire away from everyone because you people stick your noses in all the time

danielricciardo: @yourusername a soft weekend you say? how many hours did max spend on the sim?

yourusername: a solid ten but he even let me have a go

danielricciardo: oh wow that man really is in love

maxverstappen1: i think she'd rival a couple of you with some practice, i'm working on getting her to join redline

user18: ugh this is so annoying... preaching like you like spending time with your girlfriend and then spend it all playing a video game and letting her have one go?

user19: the sim is something f1 drivers use to train? if anything max probably shouldn't have let y/n have a go she could've accidentally changed the set up or other things

user20: i'm seeing charles and lewis training this off weekend and he just lies in bed with this girl? he really needs to ditch her to stay at the top

user21: literally two comments up is them talking about him training on the sim the jealousy is insane from both fans at this point

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 893,442 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy to take home another win in mexico, i love this track and am forever thankful to this team and my loved ones.

view all comments

user25: holy shit idk what f1 can do but the paddock looked insane today there's no way that is safe for the drivers and personnel.

user26: there's so many videos of people rushing max and although some of them look like max fans who are just excited but there were a lot of very rude rival fans trying to get too close for comfort

yourusername: forever proud of you !! you're like jimmy and sassy with zoomies on crack <3

maxverstappen1: that is the highest of the high compliment thank you my love

yourusername: champagne is on me girlypops no expense spared for the love of my life

redbullracing: do we all qualify as girlypops ???

yourusername: of course !! don't think i didn't notice the supply of vegan pizza rolls you truly are the lactose intolerant allies of the grid

user27: can she stop spending all her hard earned money on this scrub that just uses her

user28: bro makes millions in a year he doesn't NEED her but that doesn't mean he can't want her? you guys are crazy

user29: some of these fans need to do some serious evaluation, drivers are not zoo animals, they are people and deserve respect and that includes respect to their personal space.

user30: for real like why was brad basically having to act as a body guard for max and y/n

user31: this was such a dangerous event for max and y/n. they're both very famous individuals and should be able to move around the paddock without being in danger.

user32: max joked about getting a body guard for this weekend but i think he should seriously consider it especially is y/n is coming to more races while she's not touring

danielricciardo: it has been brought to my attention that y/n has stated that she will spare no expense, i am making a formal enquiry into whether this will cover my bar tab?

yourusername: i will within reason but only because your bffs with maxy and will drink the fruity lil cocktails with me

danielricciardo: REAL men drink cocktails

maxverstappen1: do NOT disrespect the humble gin and tonic on my post

user33: i'm glad they're in high spirits after the shenanigans in the paddock today and the booing towards max :(

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, maxverstappen1 and 1,442,776 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: there is no full way to articulate my feelings right now. my fans have to respect my personal relationships and my boundaries. i appreciate your support but you have to understand that i am not your personal friend and you do not have the right to my personal life. i also understand that in sport, there are a lot of heightened emotions, but drivers do not owe you their safety. this is something i have felt for a long time since max and i became a public couple and the onslaught of hate came for him. you may say that it comes from a good place, or for my best interests, but the manner in which some 'fans' have expressed their 'worries' is unacceptable. i do not want to bite the hand that feeds me, but there's only so many slaps me and my loved ones can take from the hand.

bite the hand is out on all streaming platforms. please listen closely a re-evaluate your relationships with your favourite artists, thank you.

comments are not available on this post.

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,220,664 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you and i will never let other people tell me when i'm not enough get in my head again. we both appreciate our support and acknowledge that we would be nowhere without it. but our relationships are ours, please respect this.

comments are not available on this post

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,344,229 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: okay sad songs are important but it's now time for me to sing my wee little heart out about how much i love you and how i know we were always made for each other.

i love you maxy, invisible string is all about my muse. out now.

view all comments

user41: IT BANGS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

user42: ffs i guess we're stuck with this man for life now ...

user43: LISTEN TO BITE THE HAND AND BANG YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE WALL AND HEAR THE PINBALLS OF YOUR BRAIN GOING CRAZU

user44: speak your truth sis

maxverstappen1: ISN'T IT JUST SO PRETTY TO THINK THAT ALL ALONG THERE WAS SOME INVISIBLE STRING TYING YOU TO ME

maxverstappen1: so true, you make me believe in soulmates YOU ARE MY SOULMATE I LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you to the moon and to saturn for real

yourusername: and that thread of gold is made from all of your trophies LET'S GO RAHHHHHHHH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

maxverstappen1: the gold of that grammy @thegrammys yall heard bags?

user45: the way they're each others wags and completely embrace it

user46: i love that they're still their goofy asses they don't give a shit abou t yall

user47: y/n dropped a heart wrenching track and immediately went ... but hey i'm SUPER happy and that's all you're going to hear

landonorris: so like can y/n remix the dutch anthem so we can actually bop every weekend

yourusername: i kinda wanna marry the king of the netherlands so maybe not

landonorris: you broke up ?????

yourusername: no you dumbass max is the king of the netherlands

maxverstappen1: not factually but i do have a medal from the royal family so same thing

landonorris: why do you guys have to clown on me every time

yourusername: you're like our baby brother it's our duty

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry

user48: you could never make me hate them they're made for each other

user49: finally bite the hand shamed the crazy bitches into finally shutting the fuck up

note: i love bite the hand i actually fear it might be my fave boygenius song and i recommend it to everyone. i actually did my university dissertation on parasocial relationships with athletes so like i feel like a good couple of sports fans could do with a listen to bite the hand. hope yall enjoyed and had a good weekend !! (chelsea gave me a heart attack but what's new, even though i was too sick to go to the game:()

[girlgenius1111]

please.

smut. 18+. alexia has a rough game, and needs something different from r. bottom!alexia

-----

You knew what Alexia wanted solely from the look on her face as she greeted you after the game. Maybe wanted was the wrong word; the look in her eyes was one of need. It was a rough game, ending in a draw. It should have been an easy win, but no one clicked today. It was likely the sheer amount of games the team had been playing, but that didn’t make anyone feel better. It especially didn’t make Alexia feel better, who took every result that wasn’t a win like a personal failure. She was barely hanging on, and that fact was very obvious to you, so you skipped the post game shower, electing to do it at home. Your girlfriend had sped through her own post-match routine, and was waiting impatiently by the door, ignoring everyone. 

Alexia was an enigma, sometimes. You knew what she needed from you, but watched as she fought herself on it. She shook off your casual touch in the locker room, didn’t hold your hand in the car like she normally did. She didn’t really even speak a word to you when you headed to the bathroom to shower, completely lost in her own thoughts. 

Still, you knew generally what would be waiting for you when you left the bathroom. Some variation of a very vulnerable Alexia, looking at you pleadingly. She always wanted you to do it without making her ask explicitly for what she wanted. You never went along with this, though. Part of what she needed was verbally letting go. Admitting what she needed was very necessary. 

Alexia wasn’t waiting on the bed for you like you expected. No, when you opened the door and stepped into the bedroom Alexia was standing right in front of you, like she’d been pacing there. She was completely naked, a sight that normally you’d take a minute to admire. She moved forward, curling her larger body into yours, and pressing something into your hands. Evidently, Alexia hoped that this wordless gesture would be enough for you. 

“Hey baby,” you murmured, taking the strap out of her hands and into one of yours, allowing your towel to drop to the ground. 

“Amor,” she practically whimpered, so softly you could barely hear it. Her forehead leaned down to press into yours, and you sighed, relishing the close contact. You didn’t love the events that led up to Alexia needing you like this, but you did love when she got like this. So desperate, so needy, only for you. 

“Tell me what you need.” You encouraged, running a hand through her damp blonde hair. Her roots were starting to grow out a bit, back to brown, and you loved the simple imperfection. 

“Please, amor. It is all too much. Por favor, te necesito.”

“What do you need from me?” You asked again. You needed her to let go, give up control, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw and neck that she was still holding onto it. “Tell me, beautiful, and I’ll give it to you.” 

Alexia took several deep breaths, forcing her body to relax, before she spoke. “Take control. Dime que soy buena.” Her words were barely more than a series of hot breaths on your face, and still, you felt a part of you shatter at them. For her to ask for that… you couldn’t begin to conceive how badly she must be feeling, how worthless. You hated how hard she was on herself, more than anything, desperately wished that she would just cut herself some slack, but that wasn’t Alexia. What you could do, though, was what she was asking of you. And you could do it well. 

“Amor, you are so so good, telling me exactly what you need. Get on the bed for me, alright?” She sighed in relief in response, dropping her forehead onto your shoulder before she moved. “Do you need the handcuffs?” 

You left it up to her. Sometimes, she needed to feel you. Other times, she wouldn’t be able to let go without you making her, without restraining her until she had no choice but to beg for what she wanted. 

“Sí” 

Alexia headed for the bed, while you got what you needed out of the drawer. 

“Blindfold?” You asked. 

“No. I need to see you.” She rasped. 

You made quick work of attaching the handcuffs to her wrists, and then to the headboard. She pulled at them almost instinctively as you straddled her. Her head raised eagerly to meet yours in a searing kiss. She fought for control on instinct, but went limp under you when you gripped her face in between your hands. Kissing Alexia was the easiest thing you’d ever done, the easiest thing you would ever do. It was completely instinctual the way your lips molded to hers, the way your tongue fit into her mouth, the way you took her face in your hands like she was delicate, fragile.

She was a complete mess underneath you, acting the way you normally did after she’d teased you for hours. She was kissing you back, hungrily, but little sounds were escaping her mouth at the same time, and she was practically holding herself up off the bed in an attempt to get you closer to her. You could have made out with her forever, truly, but she quickly grew impatient, as you knew she would. 

“Bebè, I need more,” she whined, clearly not content with only kisses from you.

“Do you trust me, pretty girl?” You pulled back briefly, looking intently into her hazel eyes. They were practically pleading with you themselves. 

Alexia shuddered at the phrase, her body twitching under yours. “Yes,” she breathed. 

“Then relax. I'm going to take care of you. I.” You pecked her lips in between words.” Love. Kissing. You. Let yourself feel good, Alexia. You deserve it, you’re my good girl.” 

“I am?” she whimpered, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen from her before. 

It was at this point that you realized a conversation would need to be had later, where you seriously checked in on your girlfriend. This was all about reassurance for her, yes, but never before had she asked you so explicitly to praise her. Pair that with how she was acting even though you’d barely touched her? Something else was going on with her, you were sure. And you’d fix it. Fucking her until she could barely speak was just part of that process. 

“You are. My perfect girl, my best girl. Only mine, sí? All you need to do is relax, and focus on how good I'm making you feel.” 

“Mmm, por favor,” Alexia hummed. She looked almost overwhelmed with need for you, her arms restrained over her head, hips attempting to jerk up into you, but you wanted to take things slow, ease her into it, in case it became too much. 

“You promise to tell me if you need to stop or slow down?” You checked. Alexia could be… difficult sometimes. She was always up for a challenge, and she didn’t like to admit defeat. You were working on getting her to realize that asking for what she needed wasn’t defeat. 

“I promise, amor, please touch me,” she begged. 

You decided to give in, just slightly, and you left a trail of kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, until you came to pause over her chest. Alexia’s nipples were unusually sensitive, and she normally didn’t want you near them, unless she was really far gone. You looked up at her, a question hanging between the two of you, but she didn’t see it, her eyes shut as her hands strained against the cuffs. 

“Amor, do something,” she begged. You stifled a laugh, knowing she likely wouldn’t appreciate it, and rubbed her cheek with your thumb. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you encouraged. 

“Here, please,” she requested, pushing her chest up towards your face. You dusted kisses around it, before you leaned down fully, taking her nipple into your mouth and sucking, hard. 

Alexia’s back arched off the bed at the sudden intense stimulation. “Fuck, fuck, sí, amor, sí,” she cried. She was breathing hard, twitching under you. You’d been working at her nipple for less than 20 seconds before she spoke again. “Fingers, amor, por el otro, por favor,” 

You smiled against her, partially granting her request as you switched to her other nipple, and brought your fingers to toy with the one you’d just had in your mouth. 

“Perfecta, perfecta, mi amor, ay dios mío,” she whined, and you released her mouth with a loud pop, focusing now on sucking deep marks into the skin of her chest. 

“No marks, bebé,” she tried, but you frowned at her, shaking your head. She returned your frown, though it looked more like a pout. 

“No. I will leave marks if I want. Because you are my good girl, and everyone should know who you belong to.” You weren’t normally possessive, but you made a note to be more often when you saw the way Alexia’s pupils dilated, and her jaw went slack. 

Her hands pulled hard at the restraints, as she grew more and more needy, and you could see red marks beginning to form on them.  

“Amor, easy on your wrists,” you reminded her, and slowly, her arms relaxed, falling slack in the hold they were in. 

She didn’t relent, though, not really, and she forced her eyes back open, focusing on you.

“Please, cariño, I am so wet. Tócame.”

You leaned up off her, kneeling over her as you very slowly slid down her body, spreading her legs as you did so. You hovered your mouth over her core, practically salivating at how wet she was, her pussy glistening and throbbing already. You’d never seen her this worked up before, and you couldn’t help but tease her, just a bit. 

“You are wet, baby, you’ve already made such a mess. Who is this all for, hmm?” 

Alexia groaned, feeling your hot breath on her. “You,”

“Where do you want me to touch you?” 

Her face flushed a bright red, but she responded nonetheless. “My pussy, amor, please,” 

You had her right where you wanted her, finally, and you got right to work, immediately running your tongue through her, from her hole up to her clit. You licked around, keeping your attention not focused really anywhere specific, not wanting to make her come too fast, knowing that she was likely close already. 

“Mierda,”  she mumbled in a choked voice, grinding her hips up into your face without restraint. You were really just finding a rhythm, just beginning to focus your tongue on her clit when her muscles tensed on either side of your head, and she cried out loudly. 

You froze, stunned that she’d come so fast, with so little stimulation. She must have been even more turned on than you’d thought. 

“Did you just come?” you asked, rubbing a hand up and down her abdomen. 

“Sí amor, lo siento, I could not stop it,” she whimpered, looking almost close to tears. 

You figured the best way to reassure her was to let her know that you weren’t stopping to punish her, so you brought a finger up to tease over her hole, watching as her neck went slack, and her head fell back onto the bed, soft cries spilling out of her mouth. 

“Don’t say sorry, baby. I want you to come, as many times as you need to, whenever you want to, okay?” 

She could only hum in response, hips jerking as you inched your finger into her, finding that it slid in easily. You let it rest inside of her for a minute, not moving, highly enjoying the way her walls quivered around you. 

When you did move, it was rapid, sliding a second finger into her easily and beginning to fuck your fingers in and out quickly. You could sense she was only growing needier, and that she’d want your face close to hers soon, so you took advantage of the remaining time you had eye level with her cunt, and watched as her hole sucked your fingers in eagerly, watched as her thigh muscles tensed, and as she bit her lip. 

It only took a couple minutes before she was tightening around you, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

“Gon-gonna come, fuck,” she whined, trying her best to warn you this time. 

“Come, baby,” you encouraged, and it was only moments before she did, your name falling from her lips repeatedly. Her head twisted, and she bit down on where her arm was held next to her face, apparently unable to stop herself from growing louder. 

“So good, baby, you sound so pretty when you come, don’t you?” You cooed at her, and she whimpered into her arm, her teeth having released the skin they’d captured. 

She was half brainless, and she didn’t really notice when you slid away from her and off the bed. She was too busy trying to focus on your words, focus on the feeling of you inside of her. You kept saying she was good, so… she must be? Right? 

The blonde’s eyes flew open when she felt you bend her knees and push them away from her body, until she was spread open wide for you. You had the strap on, the dildo Alexia normally took attached to it. 

She looked from it, up to your face, clearly reading the question you were asking. 

“Sí, amor, I want it.” She promised, working hard to keep her voice steady even as it shook with anticipation. 

“Good. I’ve wanted to fuck you all week.” You murmured, pressing into her all at once. The moan that escaped her lips was loud and gratuitous, but you knew it was entirely authentic. You knew how to make Alexia come fast with the strap, as that was normally what she needed when you took control, so you angled it just right, gripped her legs in your hands to hold them open, and fucked into her. Hard. 

All that can be heard in the room is the smack of your hips meeting hers, the filthy sound the dildo made as it wetly pumped in and out of her, and the quiet whimpers you were fucking out of Alexia. 

You fucked her right through this orgasm, barely slowing down even when she clenched tight around you and you could barely move. You kept up a soft grind, cooing at her softly as she writhed against the bed, mouth opening and closing as no sound escaped. 

“Amor,” she gasped eventually, “beso, por favor, necesito un beso.” 

You leaned down easily, keeping up your pace, as you kissed her. It wasn’t as hungry as it was before, Alexia barely moved her lips against yours, and you knew she needed the contact more than anything. You pulled away briefly, thanking the universe that you hadn’t played the full 90, and could rely on your thighs and abs to keep fucking her slowly, as you unlocked the handcuffs.  Her arms almost instantly wrapped around your back, insistently pulling you close to her. Her legs wrapped around your back, too, and she buried her face in your neck, until all you could feel was her wetness spread across your waist, and her warm exhales on your neck. 

You sped up again, thrusting deep and hard inside of her, making sure to get the angle just write, as you moved your head to be able to whisper in her ear. 

“You are so perfect, baby. So good when I fuck you. So wet, so tight, so fucking beautiful.”

“Amor,” she cried, her nails clawing marks into your back. You didn’t care, not at all. You only cared about the way your girlfriend was clinging to you so desperately, the way she met your words of praise with such insecurity and eagerness. 

“I want you to come for me, baby, okay? I want you to come on my cock while I’m deep inside of you. Can you do that?” 

“Sí, I am close, so close,” 

“Good, good girl. Do you know how good you are? My girl, you are so perfect. Come for me.” You encouraged, and Alexia reacted to your words exactly as you hoped, body jerking and trembling under yours as she came, her loud moans muffled in the skin of your neck. It lasted for a while and you worked her through it, keeping up your thrusts but slowing them down, until you were stopped, still settled deep inside of her. You made to pull out, but Alexia shook her head insistently, clinging tightly onto you. 

“Stay, please, not yet.” She requested, her voice wavering. 

“Okay, mi amor. Okay.” You allowed, letting your body relax on top of hers, running a few fingers through your hair as you felt her go limp under you, everything relaxing except for her arms still wrapped around your back. 

You weren’t going to let go until she was ready, but at the same time, you needed her to talk to you. You enjoyed being close to her, making her scream your name, as you always did. But you were concerned, more than anything. Whatever was wrong wasn’t something that could be fixed by just sex, so you let her take her time, knowing you would be making her talk when she was a little bit more herself.  ------

part 2 with aftercare? someone take part 2s away from me.

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 600!

Here’s a quick 30 min doodle to celebrate! :D

Man time really flies huh

Thank you guys for 3.1k btw!!!

And big thank you to those who have joined me in this wild journey of daily doodles no matter how long you’ve been here. Truly did not expect what started as a joke to make it this far lol

(more stuff I wanted to talk about under the cut)

-A few updates-

General Stuff:

Well, life has been generally pretty busy. And while that’s made it a little more challenging to do daily doodles as of late, it’s been alright for the most part. Some of you may have noticed though that a lot of my daily posts have been showing up as much as 1-2 hours later than the regular time. Unfortunately with all the stuff I’ve been taking care of lately, putting a daily doodle/drawing on top of the pile means it’ll be late very often. I kind of have an unofficial job irl now so this stuffs hard to juggle sometimes.

Hornet’s Strange Adventures:

Initially I was hoping to get a lot of stuff done for this game during October but some recent job stuff is making that pretty hard to do. I probably won’t be able to make any significant progress on this game until very late October and into November. So if you were looking forward to big updates on progress, it sadly won’t be for a while, sorry. Outside of that though, I can at least say that all the routes have been thoroughly planned out from start to finish including the secret route. This includes rewriting some choices that have already been seen during the game’s time on ssed.

About Doodle Requests

I haven’t had them open for a while anyway, but I’ve finally come to the decision that I will no longer be taking doodle requests through tumblr asks/inbox. As fun as it was in the beginning, I often found myself trying to fulfill requests on the daily and that was stressful. That being said, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m stopping requests entirely. I just don’t really want to do them for free anymore. Since I’m on Hornet Journal Series still, it’s a long way away before anything happens, but there’s a likely chance I’ll only do commissioned doodle requests whenever they re-open. We’ll see as it gets closer though.

Thoughts on taking an actual break:

I’ve mentioned this a lot in the past both here on ssed and on my main blog, but I’ve been seriously considering taking a break. Like a real one. Not just a “I’m gonna stockpile a bunch of doodles and pick it back up when I run out” kind of break. Especially with the way life has been going lately (mostly positive at least), I feel as though I may have to retire from daily doodles somewhat soon if there is no official news by the time this blog hits its 2 year mark. Don’t get me wrong I’ve loved doing this for the almost two years that it’s been going but at some point I’ll have to move on from this whether I like it or not. Does this mean that activity on this blog stops altogether? No. I just won’t be doing daily doodles anymore. There’s a more likely chance it would end up being weekly, or possibly monthly. Just not daily anymore.

Whatever the case, that decision will be considered more when 2 years gets closer. Until then just enjoy daily doodles while they’re still here!

—————————————————-

I think that’s all I can think of to say right now. Might post more thoughts on my main maybe?? We’ll see

Thank you again to all the lovely people that have been here during this crazy journey, you guys are awesome :D

[eupheme]

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope. 

You hadn’t. 

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure. 

It doesn't fucking matter. 

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you. 

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy. 

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic. 

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat. 

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals. 

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.  

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in. 

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you. 

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together. 

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from  another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound. 

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you. 

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough. 

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead. 

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber. 

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones. 

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into. 

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them. 

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm. 

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs. 

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free. 

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest. 

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again. 

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way. 

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye. 

You both know how this will go, when you get back home. 

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart. 

Maybe he’d show. 

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after. 

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart. 

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge. 

No one was coming for you. 

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin. 

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him. 

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls. 

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below. 

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience. 

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret. 

Comin' after a girl then, too. 

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind. 

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago. 

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back. 

But he's never much liked being underground. 

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through. 

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that. 

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you. 

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons. 

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow. 

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet. 

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth. 

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently. 

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all. 

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away. 

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation. 

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes. 

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after. 

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck. 

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down. 

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.  

His whistle echoes in the chamber. 

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him. 

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery. 

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death. 

It rankles him, teeth set on edge. 

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice. 

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember. 

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that. 

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck. 

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice. 

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers. 

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back. 

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been. 

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you. 

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him. 

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor. 

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash. 

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires. 

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second. 

Always too goddamn slow.  

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado. 

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired. 

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door. 

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him. 

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back. 

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast. 

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought. 

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long. 

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices. 

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat. 

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched. 

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments. 

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal. 

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting. 

He had blown through them like it was nothing. 

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower. 

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement. 

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head. 

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs. 

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did. 

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you. 

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years. 

You’re not able to resist. 

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw. 

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering. 

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer. 

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands. 

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

[goldtheorys]

General Ticci toby headcanons

(x gn reader, platonic and romantic)

_Just some random thoughts!

══════════════════ -`♡´-

First off, platonically or in a relationship, he can be a sweetheart, but GOD is he fucking rude

Always playing the meanest pranks

Jumps on you while you’re carrying a hot drink

If you ask him to stop doing smth just does it more obnoxiously smh

If you take too long to wake up and he wants to do something with you, might scream in your ear or beat you with pillows

BUT he isn’t always an asshole

Maybe doesn’t show it all the time but gets all warm inside when you invite him to do things with you

Wether it’s a walk in the forest or playing some random video game, just happy to be there tbh

Also loves when you return his weird affections

Turns over while laying next to you and bites your cheek, which you immediately return with a chomp on his shoulder

Making silly faces at eachother across the room

He makes a mean joke about you tripping earlier and then you lean over to lick him

Just fucking adores someone who can match his energy, even if it’s only every now and then

Sometimes after a hard day or a particularly brutal mission, just likes to hug you. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he’ll walk right up and wrap you in his arms for as long as he wants

Compliment him. The first time you say something about how cute his smile is or that he looks nice in a shirt he’s wearing, he’ll bring his hand up to cover the biggest grin while he stutters out a small thank you.

In my perception of him he comes off very closed off and mysterious at first. And he does stay like that for awhile!

But overtime he warms up, leans down (if ur shorter than him, if not stands on his tip toes) to whisper a mean joke about some poor guy you both just witnessed eat shit

And even then he doesn’t seem the type to talk about his emotions n crap, but slowly gets less and less hesitant to lean on you while softly rambling, hold your hand even if just for a second while he walks with you, puts you in a fake chokehold while you cuddle

That reminds me, definitely play wrestles with you

If you’re weaker he MIGHT, POSSIBLY consider going easy on you

If you’re about the same in strength or stronger tho, he’s relentless

Cheats.

Cheats at every god damn thing honestly it’s so annoying but you tolerate it

Also shares his food with you <3

I think he’s just into casual, small shows of affection tbh

══════════════════ -`♡´-

_Okay okay this getting too long lol. I just wanted to get a post or two out to start up. Requests are welcome, and likes are appreciated! <3

[violetarks]

I read your most recent post and am deeply sorry for this ask..

Could you maybe write chishiya x reader fluff? Like it's cuddles and words stuff like that?

"scoot over."

show: alice in borderland

character: chishiya shuntaro

summary: after a hard game, you decide to unwind. the hatter throws another party, but chishiya is only interested in finding out why you weren't attending.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov

a/n: no amount of apologies could atone to your mistake. (im joking, thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy!!)

"well done." you hear your assigned partner for the last game, ann, say to you. she pats your back gently, fixing her sunglasses on her nose. "only a handful of cards left now."

you sigh out, craning your neck to relieve some tension, "thanks, ann. you too, you were great. i just can't wait to leave this place..."

she didn't know whether you speaking about the borderlands or the beach. the place was always loud and cheerful, and while that was a nice change in pace for the world they were in, sometimes somebody just needed some good peace and quiet.

but ann only removes her hand from your back, walking off towards her room. "i understand. get some rest."

a silent 'thank you' is said as you walk pass the atrium, looking down the hallway to see the crowds of people and hatter presenting the card you had just won and returned. everyone cheered, music starting up again as hatter claims another party is to be thrown.

to the beach! grab your towels and find some booze! it's time to celebrate another win!

you see the other executives standing behind him, nodding their heads and following to the party. but instead of joining, you rub your face and stifle a yawn. your room was further from the pools, so you could have some quiet.

sweat dripped down your back and you pull the collar of your summer shirt, trying to blow some cold air down your chest. why did the game have to be held in an open field, with no shade, while it was scorching hot. it's a wonder how ann managed to look so put together in such heat.

reaching your room was a safe haven, and you closed your door to flop onto your bed with ease. the promptly grabbed the remote and turned on the air conditioning, sighing dreamily at how the cold air hit your hot skin. it was almost too good to be true, how the electricity was still on. they hadn't checked on the generator in a while.

it isn't long until you hear the faint laughter and music coming from the party. it was a normal occurrence at this point, and you were glad that not many people partied inside the hotel. it gave you time to close your eyes and get into a comfortable position to sleep in.

there's a whisper of knocks at your door.

"who is it?" you groan, wiping your eyes.

the person replies, "astroboy."

you sit up, running fingers through your hair as you retort, "come in." chishiya marches through the door, closing it behind him. he crosses his arms over his chest as he studies you. "what do you need?"

"i just came by to congratulate the winner of the last game." he states, watching you crawl back under the first thin layer of blanket on your double bed, "the eight of clubs. always knew you were the trusting type."

with your back to him, you talk, "i trust you, don't i? that's risky enough."

"ann told us that you were the leader in that game. i'm impressed." chishiya compliments, coming closer and picking up the small teddy keychain on your beside table. you had found a ball machine and a broken one, so using the coins from that, you won yourself a blue teddy keychain. chishiya told you to just get them all, but you said one was enough. "i thought you would be down there celebrating with everyone else."

you shake your head, yawning, "i'm too tired to go out there. i'm staying in my room for the night to sleep."

"oh, is that so?" he hums, putting the keychain down, "i'm the same. i can't be bothered watching them out there in this weather. it's agonising."

you nod your head in agreement, laying on your back. chishiya was always a nice guy that you were close with. he was sarcastically smart and sometimes got on your nerves. he was lucky you were so fond of him, he would've been kicked out of here if it weren't for that.

"wanna' stay?" you ask, looking to the ceiling.

"with you?" he mumbles.

"no, we'll do a room swap—yes with me, idiot." you grumble out, turning around again.

chishiya grins at your tone before muttering, "scoot over."

you do so. it's silent for two seconds before he does lay beside you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, so close that chishiya could see the hair blowing in your face from the air conditioning.

"what's wrong?" he asks, looking to the back of your head. you reply that 'it's nothing', but chishiya isn't buying it. "you usually at least stop by at every one of these parties. common courtesy for you. are you that tired?"

you don't say anything to him at first, but then, you turn around and lock eyes with the blonde. chishiya is on his back, he sees how you knit your brows in irritation.

"do you miss home?" you question, playing with the blanket, "our real home?"

"of course, who doesn't? these games dwindle our numbers and we don't even know why we're here." chishiya states, looking unbothered by what he said, "it's a fascinating world, though."

"it's a prison." you mumble into the blanket. your knee nudges his thigh, and chishiya lays a hand on the pillow, in between the both of you. staring at his fingers, you reach out and put your palm over his, gently. "i miss home."

"what was your home like?" he questions, eyed tracing your every breath.

"it was quieter than here. i used to cook with the tv going on in the background so it didn't sound like i was alone and that somebody was in the other room watching." you claimed, closing your eyes for a second, "but it was also really nice being by myself. my friends used to take me out all the time because i was a 'homebody'. all i had was work and home."

chishiya chuckles, brushing fingers over your knuckles, "that was just like me. i only had my work. and i worked at the hospital more than i spent time at home. my apartment was a good walk away, so i saw no point, y'know?"

you let out a hum, staring at your hands, "if we lived together, we'd barely see each other."

he smiles softly, nodding once. "i guess you're right."

"but it's still nice living by yourself. cooking for one, cleaning for one." you comment, suddenly missing your bedroom and your living room and kitchen. all that you were surrounded by before. "i've never spent a whole lot on groceries either, only as much as i needed. you don't need to do more than yourself. and there's nobody else to worry about..."

you were so tired. you missed being able to sleep in and not having to go to bed early because you had a death-defying game to play the next day. you missed not having to think about your life to intricately. you missed your actual life.

"you wouldn't have to worry about me." chishiya says, and your eyes open to see the blonde looking back at you with certainty. his hand clutches yours warmly. "i wouldn't make you worry."

"you promise?" you ask quietly, knitting your brows.

"if you want me to." he tells you. your brows upturn. "i promise."

chishiya was the most normal thing about your life right now. someone who just likes to see you around every now and again. more often than he'd like to admit. but he was so warm and considerate.

a swift movement of yours has arms around chishiya's neck, hugging him close to your chest as your bury your face into his hair. he lets out a small huff at the action before hands rest on your hips, snaking to around your waist. the blanket nearly covers all of chishiya, and he feels your hot skin shiver twice before calming down. he rubs your back gently as your shoulders relax.

"when we get back, you'll find me?" you ask, hopeful.

he can hear your heartbeat grow faster. "you will." he responds.

"tell me about your life?" you request.

he hums, leaning back and facing the ceiling again. you scoot closer, keeping an arm stretched across his chest and laying your head on his shoulder. "med student. i work with patients requiring transplants and people on waiting lists, but i'm an all round." he explains, "my apartment is of decent size. i have a spare bedroom that i keep all extra storage in. my study is filled. i have to say, it is nice living alone."

you nod your head, and chishiya goes on, "i usually get breakfast on the way to work; just one sugar and a quarter milk, or sometimes i just get black coffee with two sugars." he can tell you're only half listening, from the way you're playing with the strings of his jacket. but he doesn't mind. "on my breaks, i go to this takeout place across from the hospital. they sell my favourite meat buns, i always buy at least two."

he taps your back, twice you note. and you look up at him. "when we get out of here, remind me to show you." he says, "it can be our spot."

you stare at him for a while before nodding slowly. "yeah... okay."

he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, muttering back with she unknown knowledge, "you'll come find me one way or another."

[falafelluva]

; 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐤. 𝐲𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐳 ✮

summary: Kenan and you are in a situationship but his constant excuses and lack of communication leave you feeling ignored and unimportant.

warnings: male behavior😰😰?!?!?

side note: my eyes are burning so bad, it’s like almost 6 am- this is saur short and not proofread+ my first fic thing in over 14 months, scuse mi🤗. (Sorry for the repost chat😔)

The sun had just dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm glow across the city. You were sprawled on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through your Instagram feed.

A mix of frustration and confusion churned inside you, the same feelings you’d been carrying for weeks now when it came to Kenan.

Things between you had been good, at least in the beginning. He was charming, thoughtful in the small moments, but recently, the distance felt wider, his attention divided by the game he loved.

Football.

He always said he was busy, always had something to do, always left you on 'delivered' for hours—sometimes even days.

You understood his dream; he was one of the brightest stars of his generation, after all. But understanding didn’t make it any easier.

You opened his Instagram account, staring at his latest post. Another photo in his jersey, looking focused as always. He hadn’t messaged you back since yesterday.

It was the same old cycle—waiting for a reply that might not come, slowly losing patience. Slowly losing interest.

But not quite.

The spark wasn’t completely gone yet, which was why you found yourself taking a calculated risk. You scrolled to your own story and hit “add to story.”

A selfie, carefully posed, just enough to catch his attention. Maybe this time, he’d react. Maybe this time, things would be different.

Minutes passed, then your phone buzzed.

kenanyildiz_official✔️ replied to your story: 😍

You stared at the notification, unsure of what to feel. A small smile tugged at your lips, but it was tinged with a bittersweet edge. His response was always the same—minimal effort.

He’d send an emoji, maybe a comment if you were lucky, but rarely more. It was like he was giving you just enough to keep you hanging on.

You opened the message, typing a quick, casual response, but a part of you already knew how this would go. He'd drop a couple more words and then disappear again—and the cycle would continue.

A while later, you heard the familiar buzz of the notification with his name popping up again.

“u look good as always”

There it was, a simple compliment. You should’ve felt something, a flutter, excitement, but instead, it felt hollow.

“Thanks, u know u could reply more often, right?🤗”

You didn’t expect an immediate answer, but when another long pause stretched into minutes, the same old frustration bubbled up again. Kenan was always like this—his mind somewhere else, his priorities elsewhere. Football was his life, and you were starting to feel like an afterthought.

Finally, your phone lit up.

“I’m sorry”

“I’ve been busy with football”

“I’ve been training yk? I don’t mean to ignore u”

You sighed. You’d heard it before. He always had an excuse. And maybe it wasn’t even an excuse. Maybe it was true. But it still hurt.

Kenan always seemed to catch you at the wrong time, making promises that this time would be different. That he'd make more of an effort. But the promises never really stuck.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could deal with the constant push and pull, the waiting, the wondering if he really cared as much as he claimed.

He claimed to care, but actions spoke louder than words, and lately, his actions told a different story. You were slowly pulling away, and you knew it. That once bright spark of excitement whenever he messaged was fading, flatlining.

Your phone buzzed again, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I promise I’ll make it up to u oké?”

“Next time we’re both free, let’s hang out güzel.”

You stared at the message, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Your eyes lingering on the last word— Güzel.

The nickname lures you back into your thoughts, you wanted to hold onto the good moments, the times when he actually showed up for you. But deep down, you were starting to realize that maybe— it wasn’t enough anymore.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, typing out a quick reply.

“We’ll see”

Your message was short, noncommittal, a reflection of the distance that had grown between you two. You hit send, then locked your phone, letting it fall onto your bed.

You wanted Kenan, but not like this. Not with the uncertainty, not with the constant feeling of being second to everything else in his life. You weren’t sure if you were ready to walk away, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling inside you anymore—There was a brief pause before your phone buzzed again.

“Please? I got this weekend off.”

“Let’s meet up and talk about this.”

You felt a flicker of hope but you tempered it with caution. It was easy to get swept up in the excitement, but you had learned that promises didn’t always lead to action.

“Sure, when and where?”

You hit send, and for the first time in weeks, a small smile crept onto your face. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this weekend would finally give you both a chance to reconnect, to clear the air that had grown thick with unspoken words.

;;

The day of your planned hangout, you spent hours getting ready, carefully picking out your outfit. You were determined to look your best, to show him that you were still worth his time.

As the clock ticked closer to your meeting time, you glanced at your phone, your heart racing—no message from him yet.

You arrived at the café first, nerves fluttering in your stomach. It was a popular spot, filled with chatter and laughter, but you felt out of place as you sat alone at a table, fiddling with your phone before noticing the time.

16:12

Kenan was 12 minutes late, which wasn’t new, he always seemed to be late when it came to you.

A few minutes later, you saw him striding through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Your heart skipped a beat as he walked over, a grin spreading across his face.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking a seat across from you. “Got caught up with some last-minute training.”

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the familiar wave of disappointment. “No worries. I was just enjoying the view.”

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “You look really good, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice softening slightly. Maybe you could give him a chance?

As you chatted over coffee, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Kenan told stories about his training, his ambitions, and for a moment, it felt like the old days—the carefree times when everything was simple and uncomplicated.

But as the conversation flowed, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still off.

He was present but not entirely there. It felt like a performance, and you were left wondering whether he was truly engaged or just playing the part.

Halfway through your coffee, he pulled out his phone to check something. You watched him, your stomach tightening.

“Sorry, just checking a message from the team,” he said, glancing up with a sheepish grin.

You nodded, forcing a smile, but your heart sank a little more. This was the pattern—he was here, but not really with you.

“Do you remember that time we went to the beach?” Kenan asked, completely switching the subject, a nostalgic smile on his face.

“Yeah- that was fun,” you replied, recalling the day filled with laughter and sunshine.

“I miss those days. I feel like I’m always on the go now,” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, me too. It feels like I’m always waiting around for you to have time,” you replied, a bit more honesty slipping into your words than you intended.

Kenan’s expression faltered for a moment, and he looked away, his gaze drifting past you—feeling guilty.

“I know, and I’m really sorry. I’m just trying to focus on my career right now.”

His words stung. You wanted to support his dreams, but you also wanted to be a part of his life, not just an afterthought.

“I get that, but… I don’t want to be a backup plan either.”

Kenan met your gaze, his eyes serious.

“You’re not. I promise. I’m just trying to figure things out.”

As you looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity, you realized that you were at a crossroads. You could continue down this path of uncertainty or confront the reality of your feelings.

“Maybe we need to figure things out too,” you said softly, a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

Kenan’s expression shifted, and for a moment, the playful banter faded. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t want to keep waiting around, hoping you’ll change,” you admitted, your heart racing. “I want to be with someone who makes time for me, who chooses to be with me, not just when it’s convenient.”

He opened his mouth to respond but paused, as if weighing his words carefully. “I don’t want to lose you. I care about you, I really do. It’s just... things are complicated right now.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” you replied, your voice steady. “I need to know where we stand. If you want this, we need to make an effort.”

Silence hung between you, thick with unspoken words. Finally, Kenan nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

“I know I told you last time was the last time, but I promise to be better and do better for you.”

The honesty in his voice hit you hard, and for a moment, you were both silent, letting the weight of your feelings hang in the air.

“Can we try?” he finally asked, looking at you earnestly.

“I promise to make more of an effort. Just give me a chance.” Kenan reached for your delicate hand, and for the first time in weeks, you felt that familiar spark reignite, even if just a little. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a start.

“Okay,” you said softly, heart pounding.

“Let’s try.”

[homestylehughes]

boyfriend jack headcanons

jack hughes x fem!reader 

summary: how i think jack would act as a boyfriend!

warnings: sfw and nsfw 18+

wc: 642

an: hiiiii loves!!! i thought since i already did luke, and quinn boyfriend headcanons i thought i should finish off the hughes brothers and do jack!! i'm currently going through jack withdraws and tmr is his birthday... HE NEEDS TO MAKE HIMSELF KNOWN AGAIN!! anywayssssss! hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do, much love<3

happy reading <3

Sfw: 

bf!jack:  jack is a big cuddler. It doesn't matter if he's the big spoon, little spoon or just laying flat on top of you, he just likes being around you in general. He loves cuddling after a long day on the boat during summer, your warm skin always invites him in.

bf!jack: jack loves cooking for you, a lot of people poke at jack for not being able to cook, but in reality he can cook very well. You never get tired of the smell and sight of Jack looking for you after a long day or just randomly. Institing that you sit down and drink a glass of wine, saying he’ll take care of everything.

bf!jack: jack hates horror films, but you love them. You never make him have to watch them with you but he does anyway. You'll never forget the time that you guys were watching halloween on halloween and he stayed up all night talking about michael myers and how if he came face to face with him, how he would take him down explaining his strategies to you in extreme detail. 

bf!jack: oh buddy, is jack a yapper. He loves to talk, he can talk about everything and anything with you. He never runs out of things to say, his favorite time to yap is when you both get settled into bed, you both go back and forth about most random things before you sleep, making for the best laughs and memories.

bf!jack: jack is obsessed with you. Completely whipped, his brothers and friends would say, he can never get enough of you. He loves being around you, posting you on his social media, showing you off at any event he has to go to, you are always his plus one. He loves when people ask about you, he talks about you so sweetly and lovingly. He loves everything about you.

nsfw: 

bf!jack: jack loves to fuck you everywhere, even in the most risky places where theres a high chance that you can get caught. His new favorite place to fuck you at is the balcony of your guys apartment, where anyone could see you at any moment. 

Bf!jack: your moans have to be jack's favorite sounds. He loves hearing how responsive you are to everything he does. The way your mouth falls open as you try and talk but nothing comes out, or when you drop your head back and moan his name loudly, telling him not to stop.

bf!jack: jack loves giving you hickey to show everyone that you're his. I'm not talking about the ones that are hidden, I mean the ones that are bright purple and red, the ones that you can't cover. Covering you in them, then parading you around like you're the stanley cup in front of everyone.

bf!jack: jack seeing you with his number on your back, really does something to him. After almost every home game, he bends you over the couch and fucks you with the jersey on your back, hes convinced its the hottest sight hes evet laid his eyes on

bf!jack: loves loves loves cockwarming, sometimes he does even crave a release, he just wants to be close to you. The way you wrap around him so warm and snug as you guys sleep or just laying in bed contempt with each other.

bf!jack: jack loves to edge you. He loves hearing and watching you beg to cum. The sight alone of you fucked out on the bed, sweat covering your body as your hands are tied up above your head so you cant touch. Jack thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, alternating between his mouth and finger, maybe both at the sametime. Hearing you moan and beg to come from above him.

[highvern]

Casual

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

warnings:  toxic relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption, avoidant attachment, hoshi cries, sex but nothing graphic

Length: ~ 3.8k

Note: the ending is inspired by this post. happy bday to my boo, legally its still your bday in california. sorry i made you cry. thank u @wonustars for sitting through the dumpster fire this was

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Talk [a, f, s], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

In the past few weeks, something has been different between you and your fuck buddy.

He’s always been relatively excitable, thrilled by life and happy to be wherever you are. But there’s more smiling,  more touching, and more moments that feel like maybe you’re in a relationship you didn’t sign up for because now every time you see him it doesn’t automatically devolve into humping each other until your eyes cross and limbs go numb. 

Tonight is a prime example.

You happen to end up at the same bar (after he told you where he’d be with the optimism you’d show up, because you typically do). It’s early in the night, when pretending not to realize the other is just a few feet away on the opposite side of the room is still appropriate. Or you pretend while Soonyoung not so subtly follows your every move for the right moment to approach. 

You like to act as if it's a coincidence you’d even show up in the first place and that you aren’t wrapped around his finger. Soonyoung, ever indulgent, lets you. He realized after repeated brush-offs that you have to come to him. And you will in your own time; like a cat that will let you look but not touch until it decides to. Make that decision too soon and he’ll end up covered in scratches and alone. 

Your friends aren’t dumb to the charade. They know how you and Soonyoung work despite how overly complex you make it. They don’t push to ask questions, preferring to silently observe the back and forth when you two happen to be in public. Like they’re watching a nature documentary. Maybe they think they’re being subtle when they point out he’s sitting a few tables away or how they spotted him on the way back from the restroom with invisible question marks over their heads blaring ‘so what are you guys?’ 

There isn’t an answer. You and Soonyoung fuck. Sometimes you don’t; like when you were sick or when it's two in the morning and he swears he sleeps better when you’re there. Occasionally, when you feel extra generous, you let him take you out in public and hold your hand. Other times you pretend not to know he’s got his eyes on you from the moment you arrive at a party and go home alone with a handful of missed calls.

It’s…complicated.

So you sit at a table tucked in the corner and stir at the diluted contents of your drink while pointedly avoiding looking to your left where you know a pair of eager brown eyes are waiting to greet you.

“How long do we have to sit here until you go and talk to your lover boy?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismiss the very thought that anyone else is privy to the imaginary game of chess you’re playing against no one but yourself.

“Oh, really?” Lily snorts. “Because he’s been moony-eyed for the past twenty minutes and—”

“Shut up,” you snarl. 

You're under the microscope and there's nowhere to hide. Not at this table at least.

“Would it be so bad if you guys just dated? He likes you and you obviously—”

The end of that sentence rattles in your brain even as you stomp away, parting the crowd loitering at the ball. You scold the moments of weakness that make it obvious. 

It takes all your patience not to bodycheck the people stumbling in your way. Everyone’s packed in tight like sardines, at the mercy of the tide of bodies flowing to and fro. A brief part in the sea gets you to the counter. You barely take a breath before a familiar presence hovers at your shoulder.

“Come here often?” Soonyoung calls in your ear. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps blooming despite the heat.

“Is that the best you can do?” You tease, finding his gaze. “Really?”

He’s warm at your amusement, eyes bright with his own humor or maybe it's the shots you watched Seokmin coax him into from the corner of your eye as you walked through the door. “How about, let me buy your next drink?”

“See if you lead with that I think you’ll be much more successful.”

He snorts before flagging down a bartender and reciting both your orders. The last thing he needs right now is more booze but if things go as planned, he’ll be too distracted to even notice you sipping on the cup meant for him.

 The hand at the base of your spine is calming even in the chaos of the bar, his effort to keep you close as possible like you’d go anywhere. A soothing circle of his thumb burns across the sliver of bare skin below the hem of your shirt makes the world shrink down to just you two.

An easily established routine takes over. Soonyoung crowds you in, pushing you back into one of the stools and assuming the space between your legs. The length of his body locks you firmly in place. His eyes trace your mouth as he talks. Calculating if you’ll let him kiss you or if it’s too early to ask for that just yet.

“You look good.”

“Oh?” you ask with fake innocence. You know what you look like. Short skirt, tight top. Enough skin to make him drool and think about what you’re wearing underneath. Or what you aren’t, given your track record.

“Yeah.” A complete sentence. He’s too preoccupied staring at your bare legs to provide more context. Void of an ounce of shame, he traces the curve of your thigh obscenely without a care who might see and the conclusions they’ll make. 

It’s hot. Temperature wise. Warm hands you wish would dip between your thighs and play with what’s just out of view rather than stroke at the rough hem of your skirt. But Soonyoung isn’t one for public indecency. 

At least not that indecent.

You watch him watch you. The blushed tips of his ears give away exactly what he’s thinking. The memories of you, in the back of his Jeep wearing this very skirt, bouncing on his cock like you’d die without it just last weekend. Blowing his load as you teased him with the idea of cumming inside you without a condom. If he keeps staring then you’ll have no choice but to rush him into the bathroom for a quickie. But tonight, you want him to break first.

“Are you planning to do something about or—”

Your phone is buzzing before you get the chance to finish the thought. It’s probably just your friends giving a fair warning they’re heading out now that you no longer need them to serve as cover for the real reason you’re in a shitty bar on a Friday night. But the name on the screen is one you haven’t thought about in months.

Mingyu (tinder): back in town for the night, u free? [11:34PM]

“Who’s that?” 

You bristle at his accusatory tone, locking your phone and hiding it away. Soonyoung assesses with skeptical eyes, chin jutted like you’re under examination because he decided to snoop over your shoulder.  “What? No one.”

“Doesn’t seem like no one.”

“It’s none of your business.” You shoot back. He’s starting to piss you off.

The feeling is mutual if the hutch in his shoulders is anything to go by. “Sorry I’m confused why some dude is inviting you over at midnight.”

“Well, it’s a good thing it doesn’t matter if you’re confused because you aren’t my boyfriend.” You spit. 

Soonyoung recoils like you slapped the words into his cheek. Cold air floods in between you, filling the newly abandoned space now that he’s stepping back.  

“You’re right, I’m not.” He scoffs after a beat.” Sleep with whoever you want. I’m done.”

Soonyoung leaves you standing there without a second glance, melting into the crowd while you gape. 

Fuck you, you think after the initial shock wears away. The last thing you need is Soonyoung’s permission. He may be the guy you’ve fucked exclusively for the better half of six months but he doesn’t have a monopoly on your time just because you take your clothes off for him. 

Staring at Mingyu’s message, you fire off a response before slipping off the barstool and beelining for the door.

You: send me the address [11:46PM]

The cab ride is filled with Top 40 and the echoes of city noise. A few attempts at conversation fall flat before the driver leaves you alone to stew in silence. Fuming, you stare out the window as streetlights become nothing but streaks in the darkness. Your fingers tap the annoyance out onto leather interior.

Each stop light gives you more time to think about how Soonyoung isn’t your boyfriend. He isn’t your anything. At best he’s an easy fuck that strokes your ego. And even if he asked, which he hadn’t, you don’t do relationships. Commitment isn’t a part of the deal. He takes what you give and he doesn’t complain. At least, not until now.

It’s a casual arrangement for both of your benefit. If he concocted some grandiose illusion it could ever be something more then he’d swiftly come down from that cloud. 

Stubbornness may kill you but there’s a point to prove tonight. That you can do whatever you want, whenever, with whoever you see fit. 

You don’t even realize when the car stops outside a familiar apartment building. 

Mingyu (tinder): lmk when ur outside [12:19AM]

The facade of anger starts crumbling. 

You don’t want to fuck Mingyu. His name hasn’t been at the forefront of your mind in months. None of your old flings have. Even new guys at the bar were placeholders to be ignored after Soonyoung arrived with a dumb joke and too much confidence. 

Somehow, without you realizing, months flew by without an ounce of interest for any guy other than the one you abandoned in a bar. The one guy you’re pretty sure would give you the moon if you asked.

And you screwed it all up to prove a point.

“Sorry, I gave you the wrong address. Can you actually take me to…” you ramble, typing out your final response to someone who you should’ve left firmly in the past.

You: i cant [12:25AM]

After the message goes through, blocking Mingyu’s number is easier than you’d like to admit.

—

The clock ticks closer to the time for early rises to begin rousing when you start losing hope. The carpet outside Soonyoung’s apartment is disgusting but after the first hour, you braved sitting down over the worsening blisters from an impractical shoe choice. Butt numb and phone battery in the single digits, you search for the courage to commute back across town with a bruised ego.

In all the time you’ve spent on the hard ground, not one of his roommates has come home. 

He isn’t aware of your sudden change of heart so there's no reason he’d come rushing home. As far as he’s concerned you're bent in half in some old flames bed without a care for his feelings. Maybe this is how you punish yourself for pretending you’re capable of something like that. Pretending Soonyoung’s feelings haven’t flown to the top of your priorities since that fateful night in his room. Every time you go to his contact the wave of guilt threatens to crush you.

It’s another fifteen minutes before Soonyoung stumbles down the hallway. Alone. 

Even from a distance, evidence of the night after your departure is plain to see. His eyes are glassy and the stench of bar floor rolls off him. Soonyoung is a sentimental drunk but knowing you’re the reason for such a sorry state makes you want to sprint out the door into oncoming traffic.

You feel pathetic and small but he doesn’t even seem to realize you're sitting there as he trips over your legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me,’ which only makes that hole in your chest grow. But you can’t find a word to say. Not with the disappointment clear on his face. 

Disappointment because you were stubbornly refusing to let him in.

It was a mistake. Coming here, leaving the bar, going to the bar, pretending you could do any of this in the first place. Maybe if you stay still he won’t notice you and you can disappear forever once he’s inside. 

But whoever runs things has a vested interest in your love life.

Soonyoung drops his keys after failing to get them in the lock for the nth time. They bounce off the ground and skitter the few inches away where you mourn, gleaming next to your bare thigh. He finally seems to take notice of your presence.

“You’re here?” He teeters, bending at the waist to snatch up his keys and almost ends up head first through the wall. You take mercy and hand them to him instead.

He’s looking straight through you. To the parts you hide beneath snide comments and brush offs, the side that claims none of this is that serious. That he shouldn’t expect anything, that a relationship is so far out of the realm of

“I blocked his number.”

He freezes at the confession, tense around the shoulders like he isn’t even breathing.

It's all too much.

You rock up onto your feet, unbalanced as blood flow is restored to the lower half of your body. You’ve got to get out of here. Somewhere else, anywhere else. Where he isn’t looking at you like that. Halfway down the hall is where you finally hear him speak again.

“Really?” Soonyoung asks, voice flooded with disbelief and maybe something like wonder.

You don’t bother to turn around before answering. “Don’t make it weird.”

More silence. Your shuddering breath and his footsteps fill the hallway. He’s at your back, a hand ghosting along your elbow. “How long have you been here?”

You really don’t want to answer but he needs to hear it. He needs to hear how much you care. Even if it’s scary. 

“Since I left the bar.”

“Don’t leave,” he beckons. 

It sounds like a thank you. Thank you for… not fucking some guy when you could’ve? Thank you for picking him even if you can’t say it out loud? He knows it's a lot, even drunk out of his mind. One day you’ll have to tell him you’d pick him over anything but tonight carries more than you can handle already.

Your hand finds his. A tight grip, sweaty palms not even a consideration because the contact lifts some of the invisible weight off your shoulders.

He ushers you inside, down the hall to his room. In the silent darkness of the apartment, his hands stay on you. Like if for even a second you two aren’t touching you’ll float away. Fingers laced tight as you shyly shuffle behind him.

Your clothes fall to the ground. Not in the rushed heat of usual encounters, but in a desperate need to feel one another: skin on skin. 

Naked in bed, you stake claim to his lap, lost against what comes next. This is usually the easiest part. You know how sex works. But his mouth burns along your palm, savoring the warmth with a long kiss that scratches at your throat. You shake, breath stuttering. Another kiss to your palm, lips gliding across your wrist, your elbow, the curve of your shoulder. Each webs another crack.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper as the dam begins to break.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, voice shaking. 

“You thought I didn’t pick you,” you whimper again, tears welling because you’re embarrassed. Both from how you acted and how you’re crying in the first place. But it feels cathartic. Letting him see the parts no one else gets to witness. 

“A-and I let you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

Somehow he manages to pull you into a tighter hold, crushing your ribs but you don’t need oxygen. You need Soonyoung. You settle in the cradle of his thighs, legs wrapped around his waist and arms locked across his shoulder.

He doesn’t offer a joke to cut the tension. He doesn’t try to play a simpering fool just to see you smile. Soonyoung tangles you in his arms and doesn’t ease up even when you wiggle for more comfort.

When you kiss him, he kisses back. Your mouth opens when he nudges his tongue at the seam of your lips. Arching into his palms at the curve of your spine, you moan as he flips you over and dips under the covers. Your thighs will be bruised come morning but it’s a welcome thought because that means there’s proof of Soonyoung’s claim on you; one you’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge. 

Each stroke of his tongue is another nail in the coffin. Vibrations cue you in that he’s speaking but all you can make out is the break of Soonyoung’s voice when he chants ‘mine,’ into your skin. You refuse to let go of his hand the entire time, while you writhe and shake, brain melting until you shatter with a cry. His fingers stayed interlocked on top of your stomach as your nails bite crescents into the skin. Another reminder that will fade but you look good on him for right now. It’s enough for right now.

His mouth tastes of you when you finally coax him back into another kiss. You lick across his tongue like you could suck away his breath if you tried. 

You fuck him like that. Back in his lap, chest to chest, panting into each other’s mouth in a crude kiss because even an inch of space between your bodies is too much. Not because either of you are horny and need release. It’s a different type of sex you’ve never been familiar with. Closer. Needier.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper again.

“Don’t—fuck—don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” He doesn’t sound sure of it. Maybe you’ll have to talk about what this means later, without the safety of a dark room.

The next apology dies at the tip of your tongue. Focused on nothing but the swell between your thighs, his fingers strumming you into another orgasm you’re unprepared for.

“Soonyoung.” You vibrate into the next wave, pinching tight at his shoulders until his lips find your neck.

You cradle his face between your palms, kissing away whatever worries linger. He doesn't say anything as he spills into the condom; silently refusing let go for what feels like hours, catching your breaths until he slouches back into the mattress and your weight follows.

“I didn’t mean it,” you confess. Your fingers busy etching across the jut muscle along his neck, something to take the focus off how awful you feel.

“Okay…” Soonyoung traces the dip between your shoulder blades; a simple touch leaving you on edge. “What did you mean then?”

“I don’t want…that.” 

“Want what?” His fingers flex. There’s an unusual level of patience from him tonight but rather than annoyance, you’re thankful. You wouldn’t say half the things you should if Soonyoung wasn’t here to ask for them.

“To sleep with other guys.” It’s half of the truth. The more important half, the part lodged in your throat and refusing to come out, is that you don’t want to lose him. And you’ll do what it takes not to let that happen. But you don’t elaborate on that thought.

“Good.” He smiles against your temple. “I don’t want to sleep with other guys either.”

A weak joke but it’s a start back towards normal. Soonyoung might just understand these feelings more than you think. Thank God someone does.

You both pretend to fall asleep after that, silently lingering in the liminal space between dreams and consciousness. Your cheek on his chest, the beat of his heart lulling your own down from an anxious rush. His arms a cocoon from whatever waits on the other side of daylight for you two to figure out.

Together.

Strips of sun slowly brighten between the slats of the blinds. A signal that it’s time to test whatever happened in the last few hours under the daylight.

“Wanna get breakfast?” Soonyoung asks, trailing gentle pecks across your bare shoulder.

“Waffles sound good.”

“Waffles it is.”

In the bright lights of the diner, your head throbs. Half from the hangover threatening to tie your stomach in knots and the other half from crying. Your eyes are still puffy, throat sore from such an emotional display in the privacy of Soonyoung’s room.

Soonyoung sits across the table, fingers tangled with yours on top for everyone to see. A proud declaration you fight not to shy away from. Even as he digs into his food he doesn’t stop tracing the back of your thumb with his own. Second nature. You should let him do it more often. It’s a nice feeling.

Seeing couples constantly touching in public before was something you watched with disgust. Except now you get it. Because despite the rational knowledge that you’d certainly be fine if he let go, there's also the feeling that you’d dissolve in the wind if he even considered the idea.

You’ve picked apart your plate, remains of decimated waffles and eggs pushed across the booth for his consumption. Soonyoung fumbles with the shaker and douses the scrambled yellows in mountainous trails of salt. He glances up at you, cheeks rounded in shock like you’d be able to help him. Biting back a conspiratory smile, you start shoveling the mess into a napkin.

Soonyoung stares, silent as you impale a slice of strawberry on the end of your fork and pop it into your mouth. It’s salty too but you wash it away with a swig of cheap coffee.

“What?” you ask. 

He answers with a peck to the back of your hand, diving into the more edible scraps that escaped his mess as if none of it happened in the first place.

In a sudden moment of clarity, a longing rooted deep in your chest rears its head. You don’t know what love feels like but maybe this is the start of it.

Sitting in a shitty dinner, wearing his clothes, while Soonyoung laughs at some joke you don’t catch because you’re too busy trying to find your breath. It’s good though. Exciting.

But the moment passes with a beat of your heart. It’s just you and him. He’s your something, you the same for him.

And that’s enough right now.

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