#I do think it's possible for hair to do that?
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The Alchemy I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood
warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence
Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.
You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.
Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.
Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.
You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”
“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.
You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”
He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.
Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”
His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.
He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”
“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.
When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.
“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.
He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.
You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.
You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.
He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.
You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”
He grunts.
You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.
You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.
And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.
You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.
You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.
You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a short beat.
“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”
You peek your head out of the bathroom door.
You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”
He snorts. “You’re not far off.”
You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”
“I do.”
“I can go in the other room if you—”
He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay then.
You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.
You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.
This guy kills people, right?
You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.
“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.
The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”
He gives a short hum, thoughtful.
“What?”
“You’re good.” Hardly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.
He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.
He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.
“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.
You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.
That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.
Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.
You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.
Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.
You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.
“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.
You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”
“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.
He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.
You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.
He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”
“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”
“Right.”
“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”
You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”
He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.
“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”
He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”
“Rest from what?”
A series of gunshots echo from down the street.
“Next question.”
Concise.
You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.
“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.
“Does it matter how I answer?”
“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”
He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”
You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”
“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”
You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”
You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”
“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.
You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”
You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”
He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.
He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”
You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”
He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”
“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”
“No.”
You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”
“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”
You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”
“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”
You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”
He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.
Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”
“You could lock your window.”
“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”
“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.
“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.
You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”
You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.
Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.
The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.
But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.
You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.
“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.
He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.
“No, I—why are you on the floor?”
You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”
“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.
You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”
“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.
You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.
It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.
You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.
It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.
He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”
You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”
“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.
“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”
His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”
You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.
You wave him off, “It’s fine.”
He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”
You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”
About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.
You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.
His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.
You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”
He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.
“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”
Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.
He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”
You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”
He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.
When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.
So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.
Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.
Hard yes.
You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.
Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.
“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”
He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”
He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”
“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.
You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.
You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”
He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.
You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.
You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.
And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.
He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.
You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.
“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”
“I am.” He says shortly.
You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”
He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”
“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.
“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”
He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”
You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.
You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”
He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.
You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.
It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.
You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.
You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”
He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”
“Wrong line of work.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”
You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”
He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”
“Someone does.”
He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”
Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.
“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.
Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”
“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”
“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.
“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”
He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”
You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”
His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”
You grin back, pleased with yourself.
There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.
You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.
You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”
You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”
“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.
He nods.
“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”
You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.
“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”
You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”
It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.
You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.
“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.
You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”
He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”
You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”
He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.
Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.
“Come on, put your weight behind it.”
You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”
He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.
You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”
He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”
You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”
“Well, we’ll work on that too.”
You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.
“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”
You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”
“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.
“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.
He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.
You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”
He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.
You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.
You perk up, “We’re done?”
“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”
Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”
You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”
He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”
You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.
You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.
“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.
In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.
He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”
You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”
He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”
You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”
You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.
He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.
Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.
You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.
Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.
He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.
He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.
You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.
“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”
You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.
Alright, one step at a time.
#jason todd loves this stranger#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#jason todd loves his gf
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What main character energy should you embody for this next chapter
From left to right : Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3.
Pile 1
confirmation/what’s coming instinctively : Brown eyes, brown, guitar, vynils, green shoes, docs, bangs, rings (lots of them, Virgo/Earth energy, hardwood floors, The Emperor, Goddess energy, Water sign, Water dom, Loves water, loves nature, loves animals, Names that start with a J, F, P, S
the message :
You should embody the main character that moves out of her town to start her character ark. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll physicall leave your town (although, you might!) but you definitely need to leave some things behind. I’m sensing friends, maybe even family members. Your environement is getting too small for you, which is maybe why I’m getting small town vibes. You are someone that needs a lot of recognition, even from yourself and you’re not getting any where you are right now. Are you proud of yourself? I doubt it. But you need to make the proper steps to find your place in this universe and there is a place for you but you need to look for it! I see you in a new apartment, maybe a bit lonely at first, but it’s because it’ll be the first time you really get to know yourself and discovering your true self. You have been repressing your true taste, your true interests, your true self with those people you’ve been surrounding yourself with. It’s not healthy and it’s getting dangerous at this point cause you’re starting to lose yourself. Leave. That would be my advice for you.
Pile 2
confirmation/ what i’m getting instinctively: Fighter, Orange is the new black, Piper Chapman, Blue, Glacier, Grey, long hair, fake smile, dimples, the emperor Reversed, bad relationships with caregivers, siblings, many friends, Aquarius, Pisces, car, driving, roadtrip, name that starts with M, N, X, V.
the message :
Woah! Okay! Love this energy, but hard to catch honestly. You don’t like being seen, huh? It’s okay, me neither! The journey you should embark on is the one where you’re gonna get thrown into an environment that is completely unfamiliar to you. A bit like pile 1 in the sense that it’s not something you’re used to, but contrary to that pile, you don’t decide to go into this environment, you’ll get thrown into it. I can sense you have some sort of anger issues and this will be the perfect environment to finally let it out. I can feel that although you have a very polished appearance, you actually feel like a wild animal inside. In this new environment, you’ll finally face yourself as you really are. You won’t be able to fake it, or to act like you’ve always done it. It won’t be possible anymore. You’ll have to be your real self, even tho it might disappoint people around you. Oh, you probably don’t want that. Too bad, because you will disappoint people, but you’ll make some real connections out there. When you’ll get out of that environment (because yes, it is temporary I feel), you’ll look back and won’t even recognize yourself. I think you’re quite excited for that. Deep down.
Pile 3
confirmation/what i’m getting instinctively: Twilight, Bella Swan, break up, torture, painful love, toxic love, mean, smiles with bad intentions, agenda, skinny, long hands, pale (or pale for your ethnicity), doesn’t like their hair, Aries/Taurus/Sag/Pisces, Fire dom, Neptune dom, Jupiter Dom, lucky but fails to see it
the message : Oh I’m getting major Bella Swan vibes lmao. Not necessarily her temperament, but mostly what she’s going thru. You’ve been thru a bad breakup and that person has left you empty inside. You find yourself staring at the window, and wondering why it ended the way it did. Stop obsessing over the past. You’re at a point of your journey where you need to change gear. You cannot keep going like that or you’ll litteraly become a shell of yourself. Get up of your bed, take a deep breath, take a walk. Anything. But reminiscing on someone that is gone, won’t do any good. Btw, they’re gone now but they’ll come back. I know you’re excited, but they’ll come back when you won’t care and then you’ll be like : “huh, i don’t even see what I saw in you anymore”. It’ll be a very satisfying feeling for you. In the meantime, cause you’re not there yet, focus on healing. See some friends, get into a hobby. Anything that could take your mind off of him. Why do you fixate over him? Was he something he did? Or didn’t do? Focus on moving on. That’s your journey for now. That’s the part of movie where we all root and get excited for the protagonist to get on her two feet. That’s your part. You got this.
• 🧡🍯👑🐰🪀 •
and that’s all from me folks, thank you so much 🧡
#tarot tips#tarot spread#free tarot reading#free tarot#pac reading#pick a pile reading#tarot pick a card#pick a card reading#pick a pile#tarot spreads#daily tarot#tarot reading#tarot witch#astro community#astrology#astrology observations#astro notes#astrology notes#birth chart
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écoute chérie [c.l.c]
pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Assistant!Reader
wc: 3.2k
cw: assult, possesive behavior (standard for a mob au at this point), bro straight up kills someone, dubcon (again icarus?), shitty french
an: i absolutely cannot write but anyways if this flops i'm deleting it and then crying!!! also do you guys ever just write y/n and put her in predicaments and then go womp womp as if you didn't just do that to her? yeah.
It was fairly obvious from the subtle twitch in his jaw, to the shadow cast over his eyes by strands of his hair falling in front, that he wasn’t happy. From the moment you both had left the guarded gates of his mansion, his face has been set in a stony silence.
You’d seen him glance over at you multiple times during the length of the car ride, and it was becoming harder to ignore his erratic behavior.
Just as he looked away you reached for him, startling him from his distracted state as you moved to fix his suit, readjusting his crooked tie and straightening out the collar of his suit. Immediately you snapped back up to him looking at you, a curious look on his face.
“You should be more careful with your suits.” You chastised softly, snapping back to your seat as the heat rose to your face. “Tossing and turning around like that will probably make it wrinkle up.”
He nodded in agreement, giving you the smallest smile he could muster. You could still see the upset in his eyes as he looked at you, and you came to a slow realization of what might’ve been upsetting him.
“Are you mad with me for coming along with you?”
His smile faded a little, the frustration in his eyes visible. He never wanted this for you, but he knew he couldn’t stop you from coming along, so he resorted to simply reminding you why he didn’t want to bring you.
“Mon coeur, I’m not mad at you at all. I'm just hesitant because I know what my people are like.”
You sighed, readjusting the straps of your dress as you looked at him. “Yes Charles, you’ve made that exceptionally clear but i don’t think you quite had a choice. Carlos didn’t even want to talk about going with you.”
He winced at your tone, tilting his head at you as he bent his own head down to your level. “I know I keep saying this, but you don’t know them like I do. I don't want you leaving my side, not to anywhere I cannot see you chérie. Do you understand?”
You took one of his hands in yours, nodding along to keep his anxiety in check. “Fine, I wasn’t planning on going just anywhere, I came with you because that's my job.”
“And your job is?”
“To be with you, twenty-four seven, whenever you need me.” You said teasingly as a cheeky smile graced his face once again, slightly more genuine than the last.
The car came to a stop, and you looked at each other, turning to the door of the car.
“Ladies first.”
You rolled your eyes at him, obliging to climb out first as the door opened.
Your jaw dropped as you looked up to the entrance of the building. You didn’t think you were quite aware this level of grandeur could be possible, and you were honestly expecting something more inconspicuous.
Linking up his arm in yours, Charles bent down a little as you started walking, whispering into your ear.
“You look surprised. I bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?”
“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s gorgeous.”
“Wait till you see the inside.”
You continued with him, eyes growing wider at the inside.
Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, intricate detailing all over the grand foyer as you surveyed the walls.
Charles walked with you through corridors, once again tensing up, evident in the tightness of his grip on your arm. You could see an ornate set of doors at the end of the hall, approaching them slower and slower.
You paused at the door, looking up to him as he inhaled deeply.
“Are you-”
“Ready? Of course I am.” He didn’t look at you, but you gave no further thought to his words as the doors opened, the crowds of people gathered visible from the mezzanine you both stood on. The ballroom almost glittered, light bouncing off almost every corner of the room.
“Char, if i had known this was going to be fancy, i would’ve dressed up better.” You said, aghast as he shook his head, looking at you with a hint of affection in his smile.
“You’re dazzling no matter what, mon coeur. There’s no need to worry, you’ll be just fine.”
“I- Alright.” You agreed hesitantly, arm slipping from his as you followed him down the stairs.
There were so many bodies on the floor you had a hard time following him, resorting to holding onto his sleeves to navigate through the crowds. He greeted people, and you did the same in his stead, unsure where exactly you were headed. Suddenly, Charles came to a stop in front of you, and you slammed into him, stumbling back slightly.
“Charles, what just happened, I...” You paused as he stood motionless, stepping to peer from behind him.
Another man stood there, head tilted as you curiously as you moved to Charles side. He wore all black, jacket embroidered with flowers and a necklace that resembled a thorn necklace. He seemed fancy, but something about the way he looked at you made it feel like you were being microanalyzed by him.
“Lewis.”
“Charles. A pleasure seeing you again.”
He nodded, relaxing slightly as the man took his hand, shaking it firmly.
“And who might this be?”
You waved, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“I’m-”
“She’s my assistant.”
“Char, calm down.” You chided, ignoring how his tone almost instantly seemed to become sharp, nose flaring slightly. Clearly Lewis noticed as well, raising his eyebrow at how his tone seemed to change so suddenly.
“I’m sorry, my name is Y/n. I’m his assistant, as he mentioned before.” He took your hand, offering you a kiss to the knuckles with a smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/n. Are you new or…?”
“This is her first social event with me.” Charles butt in, arms crossed over as Lewis grinned at him. “Hm, I figured half as much. I haven’t seen much of her around, you should bring her more often. She seems pleasant.”
“Wonderful. Now is there anything else you want?” Charles answered, tone short and clipped as you frowned at his sudden defensiveness. Lewis hummed knowingly, sparing you a glance before he went back to talking to Charles.
“The negotiations are upstairs. We were just waiting for you to start, and I think Carlos got here maybe twenty minutes before you?”
He nodded curtly in response, taking your hand as he started moving.
Lewis looked down at him though as he shook his head, pointing to your hands.
“Sorry to break it to you mate, but she can’t come with us.”
“Why not?” Charles snapped, clearly annoyed by his sudden announcement.
“It’d be better for the both of you. I doubt you want her in on the grizzly details, it would only put her at risk, more so than working for you. Leave one of your guards with her if you want to, although I promise she’ll be just fine here.” He knew he couldn’t argue with that, it was apparent in the way his face fell at the realization.
“I have to go now, but we'll be waiting for you upstairs.” Lewis said as he waved goodbye to you, turning on his heel to leave the both of you alone to the side.
Charles sighed, glowering at the man's back as he turned to you.
“Écoute chérie (listen darling), it seems like Lewis has a point.” He started, reluctance written all over his expression. “So I'm leaving you here with one of the guards. I don't want you to put yourself in any unnecessary danger, so please keep them with you and talk instantly if anything happens.”
You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed, but it did make sense to you. "I understand, Char, I'll be here when you come back."
He visibly relaxed, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. "Thank you, chérie. I promise I won't be long."
You gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
With a short squeeze of your hand, Charles reluctantly left your side, disappearing into the crowd once more.
Left alone with the guard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, you took a deep breath, turning around to him.
"Looks like it's just you and me for now," you said, trying to break the ice with the bodyguard, who simply blinked at you.
“Not one to talk much, huh?” He cleared his throat, bashfully turning his eyes away from you.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but i'm pretty sure Mr. Leclerc wouldn’t like me looking at you.” You stifled a sigh, simply flashing a smile at him.
“Would you like to have a drink with me then…?”
“Ollie.” He finished, even more bashful than before as scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I'm sorry ma’am. I don’t think I'm allowed to drink on the job, Mr. Leclerc would kill me if something happened to you.”
Awkward silence filled the air as you sighed, looking around the ballroom.
You didn’t think there was anyone you could talk to other than him, so you were stuck with him for the rest of the night.
It wasn’t half bad either, but he followed you quite closely, almost as if carefully noting every single thing you were doing. Even as you made minor convos, he stood beside you, too close for it to be comfortable for either of you. He took his job seriously, a little too seriously, you thought.
At some point, you paused, turning around to him with your hands crossed over your chest.
"Ollie, do you have orders to stand so close? It's making me feel a bit claustrophobic."
He blinked, obviously taken aback by your directness. "I'm sorry miss. I was just told to keep an eye on you, Mr. Leclerc's orders."
You nodded, slight frustration rising up as he mentioned Charles' name. "I appreciate your dedication, but I promise I won't just wander off.”
He hesitated, yet still nodded to your request. "Is there anything I can do then?"
A lightbulb seemed to go off in your head as he asked, a grin stretching across your face as you looked at him.
"I think I'll go get a drink. Would you mind keeping an eye on things here until I come back?"
he relented with a nod, albeit with a hint of concern in his eyes.
"Alright, but please don't wander too far. I'll be right here waiting for you to get back."
You nodded sweetly, yet as soon as you left his field of vision, you grabbed a glass off a tray, pushing gently through the crowds.
You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but there was rarely ever a time where you drank because of your job.
Before you knew it, you’d finished off the glass, abandoning it on the buffet table and grabbing another one as you made your way back into the crowd.
At some point you saw Ollie again, distracted as he talked to two other boys of his same age. You decided not to interrupt, walking past them and slipping through the open doors on the opposite end of the hall.
The air was cool, fragrant from all the flowers planted around the place. As you wandered along the winding paths, you observed the little statues and carefully trimmed hedges, detailing meticulously crafted to fit the vibes of the garden.
But your peace was short-lived, as the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder. Turning around, you were met with the leering faces of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the night air as they drunkenly stumbled through the hedges. They were creating a ruckus loud enough to attract a crowd.
You froze, not a sound escaping your lips as you looked at them.
Clearly they hadn’t noticed you, so you took a step back, hoping to get away.
Something snapped under your heel and they all stopped acting buck wild, turning to you with wide eyes.
“Ouh, Qui est cette femme, juste là (ooh, who's that woman right there)?”
Shock ran through your veins as the one who spoke pointed to you, eyes turning towards you in a moment. A couple laughed, one of them whistled, all of them looking you up and down like a piece of meat.
“I think she might be one of those escort people they hire at parties y’know… you think we should greet her?”
Their leering gazes made your skin crawl.
Quickly you turned on your heel, heading in the opposite direction, hoping to lose them quickly as you attempted to get back. Your heart pounded in your chest as you continued, their drunken roasts getting farther from you. You still felt paranoid, but you were pretty sure you had lost them.
As you turned around, a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing hold of your wrist harshly. You were whirled around to face your assailant, one of the men from the group you’d seen earlier, one of the ones who had whistled at you.
"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" he sneered, drunken breath hot against your face as he sneered at you, a wicked grin on his face.
He had you cornered against one of the hedges, and you had nowhere to run as he got closer, trying to grab your other hand.
“You’re cute, you think the boss would like it if we sent him back a little present like you-”
You panicked, kicking wildly until you landed a kick to his nuts, breaking free from his grip around your wrists as he staggered back in pain.
“You bitch-!”
The sound of a warning shot silenced his swears of pain, the only thing you could hear now being the buzzing in your ear.
You turned your head, Charles saying something, but you couldn’t exactly hear it as he approached, an angry yet relieved loon on his face.
“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!”
You didn’t respond and he knew why, turning to look across from you at the man who glared at the both of you in anger.
"We'll discuss this later," he said, tone softer this time as he turned his attention back to you, helping you up onto a cold stone bench.
“You. Get lost. Don’t let me see you here ever again.”
"Or what?" The man spat, voice dripping with contempt at Charles' order. "You think you can scare me off with your empty threats?"
“I don’t think it’ll be so empty if i-,” He pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at the mans groin, then moving to his head, “-happen to give you a demonstration of what exactly happens when you fuck with something of mine.”
The color drained from the man's face. Maybe he had just come to realize who he was fucking with.
“She was yours? I’m sorry, I didn't know!”
“Save it.” He hissed, cocking the gun and aiming it directly at his head. “I’ll make sure that you les fils de putes never see the light of day again.”
It was over in the blink of an eye, with just the sound of a gun being fired, followed by the thumping of a body.
You hadn’t even realized it when he came to you, wrapping his jacket around you as he picked you up, allowing to you bury your face in his neck.
"I've got you," he whispered. "You'll be fine now."
As he turned to exit, Lewis had finally shown up, standing at the entrance with an eyebrow raised at the dead body then you.
“Do i get to ask-”
“No.” Charles answered stonily. voice clearly agitated as he responded to Lewis. “Make sure those creeps get taken care of. I already had the pleasure of taking care of one of them.”
“Duly noted. It was nice seeing you, and you must be busy with… her, so I’ll be off to take care of the others then.” He said, as he signaled to his bodyguards to comb through the area.
“Thank you.” He said begrudgingly as he lifted you up once again.
You could feel him retracing his steps, motion blurred until you stopped at the entrance once more, in front of his car.
Gently, he set you down and you still clung to him, shaking slightly as you climbed into the seat.
He followed after you, directing the man in french as he put an arm around you, pulling you somewhat closer.
“Wh.. what happened to Ollie?”
The look of concern turned to a look of slight annoyance, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.
“Even now you’re thinking of someone else, mon coeur. What am i going to do with you?”
You stumbled over your words, yet you were resolute in what you wanted to say.
“Please don’t punish him, i was the one who left him.”
“Don’t worry, no one is getting punished. But you, however-”
You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the barrelage of words to hit you, yet nothing did. Instead, one of his hands came up to hold your face, thumb gently stroking your jaw.
“Mon petit coeur, m'écoutes-tu parfois (sweetheart, do you ever listen to me)?”
You opened your eyes, looking at him.
“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That I thought another man took you from me? I warned you what would happen, and yet you still came. See what happened?” His grip on your jaw tightened slightly, tilting your head upwards so you were looking him in the eyes.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
"You have nothing to apologize for, mon coeur. In fact, it should be me who apologizes." he murmured, his voice soothing compared to his actions.
“But then why…?”
“Je t'aime (I love you). It’s because I love you, I want you. More than anything.”
Charles's lips met yours in a kiss, overpowering the adrenaline in your veins as he titled his head, pushing deeper into the kiss. You could feel his overwhelming warmth as he pulled you closer, body to body in the back of the car.
As you broke it off, the heat rose to your face at the string of saliva connecting you both. You tried to pull away but he only seemed to get closer, eye to eye with you.
"Charles?" you breathed, longing erupting like your heart, beating against the cage of your ribs.
“Listen to me chérie, I should’ve never let you go like that. You’re going to be mine now, that way I can keep you safe, Is that clear?” He murmured against your lips, voice dark yet pleading. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, lovesick and blinded by adoration.
With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, forehead against his as you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his embrace.
There was no escaping him. You were his as he was yours. You could never escape, now that he had you like this.
#mafia f1#mafia fanfic#mafia au#f1 mafia au#f1 mafia#f1 charles leclerc#f1 x female reader#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x female oc#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction
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I Think He Knows
Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?
Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader
Word Count: 4,505
Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina
A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚
Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.
“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”
The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.
“So pretty!”
Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.
“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”
“G-Geto.”
“Thank you, Geto!”
“You’re welcome.”
That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.
Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.
You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.
That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.
Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.
So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!
You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.
“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”
Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.
“This isn't funny, Nanami!”
“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”
“L-Like use the word penis?”
“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”
“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”
Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.
The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.
But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.
“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”
“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.
“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.
Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!
“I-I can't do that!”
“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”
“That’s not what I me—”
“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”
With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.
That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.
Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!
A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.
“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”
“Meat stick?”
“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.
“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”
You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.
“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”
“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”
When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.
The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.
“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”
“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”
“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”
“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”
Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.
“They offered it to you for longer than that.”
“Seriously? How long are we talking?”
Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”
The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.
Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.
The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.
“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.
Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.
“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.
Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.
God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.
Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.
“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”
“I was in the kitchen.”
“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”
There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.
His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.
“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”
“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. “Said we had to celebrate.”
“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”
“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.
“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”
Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.
“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”
“Well, that’s gre—”
“For the next two years!!”
Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.
You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.
He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.
“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.
“Are you going to leave?”
“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”
“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”
Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.
“Nightmares.”
“About Riko?”
Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.
You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.
“Suguru—?”
“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.
Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.
Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.
He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.
The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.
You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.
“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”
“Please shut the fuck up.”
Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.
“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”
Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.
The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.
Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.
Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.
“I think I know why she might be leaving.”
“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”
“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”
“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”
Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”
“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”
“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”
A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.
“Hey, can I talk to you?”
Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.
“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”
“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”
“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”
“Y-yeah, and?”
“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”
Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?
“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.
“I can teach you.”
(TBC)
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these special moments with you
☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
genre: domestic fluff
pov: 2nd person
description: you come home from a girls night out and hyunjin helps you get ready for bed
pairing: non idol!hyunjin x drunk!reader (reader wears makeup)
warnings: mention of drinking (drink responsibly kids), mention of nudity (sfw though, nothing is happening)
word count: 1,805
a/n: i was going insane so i needed to write this
©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
"Jinnie!” You exclaim as your boyfriend opens your car door. You fail to climb out of the car and into Hyunjin’s arms. It’s almost like you’re a fly caught in a spider’s web, desperately trying to get out.
"Sorry, Hyunjin," Ryujin laughs as she unbuckles your seatbelt for you. “I lost control of them once happy hour started. To be fair, with all five of them, I didn’t stand a chance.”
Hyunjin helps pull you out of the car. Rather, he pulls you out of the car and you let him. Your limbs feel like pudding, you’re not even sure how he was able to get a grip on you. He leans you against the back door and ducks into the car, grabbing your bag and shoes from the floor. "It's fine, Ryu. Thank you for bringing Y/n home.” He quickly peeks into the back seat to find Lia passed out on top of the rest of the girls. “Let us know when you guys get home,"
“I might just let them sleep it off in the car,” She teases as Hyunjin closes the door.
“I will throw up and ruin everyone’s night if you do that,” You hear someone, possibly Yeji, comment from the back seat.
Hyunjin’s arm snakes around your waist as he gently pulls you away from the car. “Giving you all the strength and luck in the world,”
“You might need some of that to deal with Y/n.”
“Bye, Ryujinnie! Thank chu—Chu? Ha! That’s not what I was trying to say…” You slur as you put more of your body weight on Hyunjin.
Hyunjin waves to Ryujin before tugging you in the direction of your shared apartment. You carry most of your body weight, Hyunjin's firm grip on you is mainly to guide you in the right direction and to keep you from tripping over your own bare feet.
"Why are you barefoot?" Hyunjin chuckles as he opens the door to your apartment. It's moments like these where he's glad that you two live on the ground floor. He knows for a fact that gravity would have won if he had tried to help you up the stairs.
You stop dead in your tracks, furrowing your eyebrows as you look down at your feet. Almost as if you hadn't realized you weren't wearing any shoes. You wiggle your toes before turning to face Hyunjin, a lazy smile spreading across your face. "T'was hot,"
Hyujin shakes his head and smiles to himself as he continues to lead you inside. He keeps one hand on you as he locks the door and neatly puts your shoes away. He quietly pulls you down to the couch and gestures for you to sit down. You follow his lead and slump down into the chair like you've been walking for ages and finally reach your destination.
Hyunjin places a kiss on the top of your head before disappearing for a moment. You relax into the couch, letting the cool soft leather swallow you whole. It's late, you're drunk, and the couch is oh-so-comfortable.
"No, no, no. C'mon, sit up," Hyunjin says, pulling you back upright. You're not sure when he came back, you didn't even hear the pitter-patter of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. Not that you can hear much, your head and ears are filled with cotton balls. Everything is entirely too fuzzy for you to think straight.
"I'm 'eepy," You whine, kicking your legs in protest.
"I know you are, but you need to drink this first." Hyunjin hands you a glass of water. You give him another lazy smile and begin drinking it.
Satisfied with your first sip, Hyunjin sinks to the floor. He kneels before you and picks up your right foot, examining it. You stare at the paintbrush sticking out of the messy half-bun. The rest of his long black hair brushes against his shoulders. His large white shirt stained with paint has a few new spots of blue and yellow paint.
"Were you working?" You ask softly as you finish your water.
"I was was. I was taking a break when Ryujin called." He answers. Satisfied to find no scrapes or cuts on your right foot, he moves onto your left.
"Can I see?" You perk up at the idea of seeing some of Hyunjin's art.
"Later," He nods as he puts your left foot down. He looks up at you and pushes the frame of his lensless, black-rimmed glasses onto his face with the back of his hand. "They're not quite finished yet."
Hyunjin stands up, takes the now-empty glass from your hands, and disappears once again. The soft cushions off the couch once again begin to call your name like a siren singing a song. You lean back into the couch and rest your head on the back, closing your eyes only for a moment. Just to rest them...
"Y/n, wake up," Hyunjin coos into your ears. You feel the gentle graze of his lips leaving your cheek.
"I want to go to bed," You sigh, looking up at your ceiling.
"Not yet," You hear the crinkling of plastic beside you. "Look at me,"
You slowly lift your head and turn to Hyunjin, looking at him with heavy, lead-filled eyelids. He softly grabs your face with his left hand and rubs something wet and cool against your lips. You stare at the slightly blurry figure in front of you, your eyes narrowing in confusion.
After a few seconds of him rubbing your lips, Hyunjin quickly leans in and decality presses his lips into yours. Only for a moment. He pulls away just as quickly and holds up the now lipstick-stained wet wipe in front of his face, "Let's take your makeup off first,"
The two of you sit in comfortable silence as Hyunjin continues to clean your face for you. He is slightly rough as he wipes the makeup off your cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin, making sure to wipe up as much as he can with one wipe. He's gentle with your eyes, making sure not to hurt you.
"Are you mad at me?" You ask softly.
He momentarily pauses, tilting his head at you in confusion. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because," You shake your face out of his grip so you can look at him, his face a bit more clear than it was earlier. "I went out with the girls. And I came home late. And I'm drunk."
"Why would I be mad about that?" His hand that was holding your face drops down to your knee.
"Dunno," Your eyes trail away from him and focus on the candle sitting on the coffee table. It was burned recently, there's a faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon in the room. Hyunjin must have started working in the living room while watching TV before moving to his studio.
"I'm not," He tucks his forefinger under your chin and gently lifts your head so you can look at him again. "I'm just glad you're home and that you're safe. C'mon, let's finish getting you ready for bed."
***
"Did you have fun?" Hyunjin asks.
He's sitting on the floor next to the bathtub. He sits crisscross with his elbow resting his knee and cheek in his hand. He's been watching you the entire time with a dopey, loving smile on his face. You know he's only keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't accidentally drown yourself. He stares at your figure. Your knees pressed to your chest and your head resting on your knees facing him.
"Hm," You hum, nodding slowly. "I did. We caught up on a lot. And drank...a lot. And we danced so much. You would have had fun,"
Hyunjin reaches over and wipes a wet strand of hair, pulling it away from your eye, but still letting it frame your face. "I would have?"
"I know you don't really like clubs and crowds like that but the music was good for once. I wish you were there, to be honest. I loved hanging out with the girls but I missed you too." You pout slightly, "Plus a lot of guys kept trying to buy me drinks. They weren't even cute!
"You should have taken the drinks. A free drink is a free drink." Hyunjin laughs, poking your lower lip back into place.
You lift your head and shake your head aggressively. "I told them that I already have a boyfriend who is nearly six feet tall and has 4 friends who could beat them up."
"That makes me sound like I'm in a gang or something," Hyunjin chuckles, resting his hand on your cheek.
"It kinda looks like that when you're with the boys! Especially the old ones." You exclaim, the water nearly jumping out of the tub.
"I'm telling Chan, Minho, and Changbin that you called them the old ones," He cackles. The sound reverberates around the bathroom, making it seem louder than it actually is.
"No," You gasp softly at the admission of a possible betrayal. You drop your head back on your knees.
"Fine, I won't tell them. But only because your eyes got all big like those big softies would do anything."
"Minho would glare at me. And I know he's teasing, but there's always a brief moment where I'm worried he's gonna cook me."
"Don't worry, I'll save you from the big scary cat and his air fryer."
"He'll just fry you with me. Two for special," You mumble. Your lead-filled eyes finally betraying you.
"Okay, c'mon. Let's go to bed. You'll get sick if sleep here," Hyunjin groans as he finally stands up and grabs a towel.
"'s warm," You mumble half-heartedly.
"It's warm now but it'll get cold soon,"
Glub, glub
Hyunjin releases the plunger from the bath. He watches as the water quickly goes down the drain. Once the water is low enough, he drops the towel over your shoulders and helps you stand up. He helps you wrap the towel around your body, including your head, before helping you out.
"Jinnie," You mumble, your eyes still closed. They're too heavy for you to even try to open them right now.
"Hm?" He hums as he rubs the towel against your scalp, trying to dry it a bit before attempting your hair routine. He's watched you do it so many times, he can do it in his sleep.
"I love you,"
You don't see the soft smile that spreads across his and blends into his eyes. You can't hear the beats that his heart misses as he stops drying your hair.
"I love you too," He presses another kiss into your forehead, almost like he's trying to imprint his love for you in your brain. "Off to bed now,"
—
Buy me a coffee?
—
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A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.
(also on ao3.)
“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”
At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.
“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”
Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”
“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”
Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”
“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”
“Uh-huh.”
“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.
“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.
“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”
Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.
Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.
“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”
“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”
Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”
Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”
Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.
But Kara knows so much better.
“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”
As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.
But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.
“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”
Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.
The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”
“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”
The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”
Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”
“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”
Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.
Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”
Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”
Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Liar.”
Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.
“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”
Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—
“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”
“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”
But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”
Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.
…Or possibly some secret third thing.
“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”
“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”
Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”
Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”
“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”
Alex stares.
Kara swallows.
Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.
“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”
Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.
In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.
“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”
Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”
When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.
“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”
Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.
“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.
“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”
Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.
“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”
They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.
“O-kay,” Kara says.
Lena grins. “Okay?”
Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”
Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”
And, goodness gracious.
Kara is about to be in so much trouble.
#this prompt is exactly one hundred years old today but HEY LOOK a CLEAN 2000 WORDS#just. clearing the pipes#or whatever it is they say#supercorp fan fiction#supergirl fan fiction#ask meme#thanks for the prompt wilfriede!#i hope it's close enough!#lena luthor#kara danvers#fic by ekingston
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lmao i’m a lil embarrassed for asking but i can’t help it now that i saw you said to send in a request. can we have more virgin!eddie x experienced!reader? maybe she’s teaching him how to eat her out properly and she’s surprised by how into he is and how eager he is to please? with some cute puppy eddie fluff pleeeease 😇 lol doesn’t have to be this at all tbh, just anything with that pairing fr 😅
No need to be embarrassed, lovely! I absolutely love this request and pairing! I was actually thinking about writing more about them, if people are interested!
virgin!Eddie x experienced!reader
cw: oral (f receiving)
This is a continuation of this post!
After your first time with Eddie, you had made it a very regular thing. It didn’t matter whose place you ended up at, but you’d always end up in bed together. You’d be tangled up in the sheets either until the early morning or until you couldn’t walk, whichever came first.
And there was never any foreplay or much kissing involved either. You’d just get straight into the act, desperate to have Eddie’s dick inside you every single time. And you were addicted to the feeling, loving how confident he was becoming after you had been sleeping together for a while.
He was now shameless about the noises he made and it almost seemed like he was making them supper loud because he knew just how wet it always made you. He was getting really good, almost better than you which you didn’t think was possible.
There was something about being with him that felt so different from being with anyone else. He actually seemed to want to enjoy his time with you as opposed to the others who were just looking to take whatever it was that they wanted from you. Eddie was actually concerned about making you feel good and wanted to be sure that you were enjoying it just as much as him.
You and Eddie were in your bed for the third time that week and but found yourselves only making out. No clothes had been removed and the two of you seemed pretty content with just kissing while sensual music played in the background.
His lips moved with yours and your mind started to wonder what his mouth would feel like on your cunt. You knew he hadn’t eaten anyone out, but maybe you could have taught him. Maybe if he told him exactly what to do, he’d be able to do it, making you feel so much pleasure.
You pulled away from him and looked at his face. His pupils were blown and his lips were pink and swollen from all the kisses you had shared. He was so adorable that it hurt with his big brown eyes that were always filled with so much love and his hair that was always messy even after he had just brushed it.
“I did something wrong, didn’t I?” He was always asking that and it made you feel bad that that was always a thought in the back of his head. Even if he did do something “wrong” you would tell him nicely and help him correct it.
“No, no,” you shook your head and moved your hand up to wrap one of his curls around your finger, twirling it around the digit. “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to…eat me out?”
Eddie nodded his head vigorously and his eyes went wide. He was definitely more up for it than you had anticipated and that made you feel better about the whole thing.
“I can definitely do that,” he nodded again. “But…I don’t know how.”
“I could coach you through it,” you told him, a small smile kicked up at the corner of his mouth.
“You’d do that?” Of course you would have.
“Mhm,” you replied. “Do you want to?” He wanted nothing more and was getting so hard thinking about having his head between your thighs.
“So bad, baby,” his hands squeezed your hips. “You have no idea.”
You both sat up and Eddie got off of you, unsure where to place himself and you took him by the hands, wanting to have a discussion before anything started. You wanted to make sure that he knew that he could back out at any point and that he didn’t have to do it just to please you if he wasn’t enjoying it.
He nodded along as you spoke, taking in every single word as if they were very important to him. All of the talks you had had about consent were just as important to him to listen as they were to you to speak them.
“Alright, um, you’re going to want to get on your knees at the foot of the bed.” He listened and quickly got off the bed and lowered himself to his knees on the rug underneath him. You followed and placed yourself in front of him and took him by the hands.
You guided them up to the band of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your legs before setting them on the floor. He then slowly rested his hands on your knees and spread your legs, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to make sure that it was okay. His eyes then drifted to your sopping wet pussy and you could see his cheeks blush.
“You’re soaked,” he let out a chuckle.
“Mhm,” you bit your bottom lip. “And it’s all for you, baby.” His cheeks flushed even more and you thought it was funny that you could make him do that just form a little comment. “Whenever you’re ready, drape a leg over each shoulder.
He did the action so quickly so you could tell that he was eager to get to it. He had definitely wanted it just as much as you did and that made you even more wet.
“Now when you get your face into it, use your tongue and lick back and forth to start.” He buried his face into your pussy and you let out a gasp as his nose brushed the sensitive skin.
He licked back and forth and you clutched the blanket underneath you as pleasure rolled through you. He kept going and you told him to suck on the spot which he did, eliciting a moan from you. He licked and sucked and you gripped the blanket even harder as your back arched in euphoria.
“You taste so good,” he told you before diving back in and you felt his teeth graze the sensitive spot, wondering where the hell he had learned that, but before you could ask, another moan fell from your lips.
“Sh-shit, Eddie.”
“You like that?” He laughed, loving that he was able to make you come undone for a change.
“Fuck, do that again.” He was quick to oblige and shoved his face back into your cunt, grazing it with his teeth once more and you reached your climax, letting out what Eddie thought was the loudest moan he had ever heard and was eager to hear it again.
“Could eat you all night, darling. Swear to god. Taste so fucking good.” He then replaced his teeth with his tongue, shoving as much of the muscle as he could inside of you and your back arched again as your knees pressed against his head.
Your moans has been muffled by your knees, but he could still hear them clearly as he continued to lick, suck, and graze it with his teeth. You had been eaten out more time than you could count, but this one was definitely the best out of them all. First off, he seemed so eager to please you, wanting to make you feel good. And he also loved the way you tasted, making sure to let you know while others didn’t seem to care enough to.
That was the difference. Eddie cared. He cared so much and always felt the need to tell you how much he was enjoying himself while making sure that you felt the same. It was all so important to him and that made you feel special even though you knew he would have done the same for anyone else.
Eddie removed his face from your cunt and you sat up, your breathing still labored as you looked down at him. You noticed slick dripping from his chin and just as you were about to let him know, he made direct eye contact with you and ran his tongue along his chin, getting every last drop before pulling his tongue back into his mouth.
“You’re so fucking hot,” you told him and pushed him to the ground before pressing your lips to his in a bruising kiss before licking into his mouth. “And by the way, you can eat me out anytime you want.”
“Oh, I intend to,” he grinned and you pulled him into another kiss, neither of you bothering to get back into the bed as you removed your clothes for the first fuck of the night, knowing that Eddie could please you just as much as you pleased him.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#virgin!eddie munson#experienced!reader#virgin!eddie munson x experienced!reader
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mr. sandman, bring me a dream
✧ pairing 7 dream x reader
✧ genre/tw fluff fluffy fluff fluff, what i think dating them would be like <3 an embarrassing amount of run-on sentences i'm sure.... the dreamies being the most perfect boyfriends to exist, mostly unedited
✧ w/c 2293 (about 300 words each!!)
✧ a/n back to my roots writing for nct... also,,, not the dreamies being my ult group but my last group to do these headcanons for :/ i have so much fun writing these little ideas and dreams about them let me know if you want more!
MARK truly the definition of wrapped around your finger… tells everyone about you every day of his life. Smiles at everything you say and calls you the cutest names. Makes sure everyone knows that you’re taken for life–no ifs about it. Tells you about his whole day, down to the most unimportant details. Kisses you all around your face and gets red seeing you so flustered. Constantly saying the worst pickup lines. Always always makes time for you even with his busy schedule. Talks to your family on the phone and becomes best friends with your siblings. Lets you win during video games and pretends that you’re just so much better than him. Never comes empty-handed–if you invite him over he’s bringing some sort of present he can’t help it. Wraps you up in at least three layers when it looks a little cold outside. Starts bringing up ideas for a Halloween couple’s costume in January. Celebrates your birthdays and accomplishments like his own. Holds you close to him in any moment of rest, the members are around? He’s only bringing you in closer. I’m sorry to say this, but he is definitely one of those people who refer to you as a “we”... “we watched that movie last week!” or “sorry, we can’t come, we have plans.” Would never even think about fighting with you and when it can’t be avoided, he is always the first to apologize. Walks around draped over you, his neck falling onto your shoulder and clumsily shuffling you along. Steals your phone to take silly pictures of himself, and you end up having 500 selfies of Mark making the same five kissy faces. Fixes your clothes/jewelry/hair as the day takes its toll. Kisses your wrist whenever you hold hands. Lovely and forever committed to giving you the sweetest existence possible.
RENJUN My angel boy<3 would be the most loving boyfriend if you’re able to get past him giving you sm attitude. Lovingly scolds you 24/7 365. Pouts if you don’t say you love him back or forget to kiss him before you leave. Steals your sweaters and jewelry. Makes you laugh so hard you cry, then kisses the tears away. Has the worst case of cute aggression when he see’s you like he can’t help but take a bite out of you. Whenever you ask him to do something he’ll roll his eyes and scoff but still gets up to do it anyway. Says your name so sweetly and with so much love it could be a term of endearment. Sings to you when you’re sad. Holds you so tight when you sleep, like he could absorb you into his own skin. Carries a picture of you in his wallet everywhere he goes. Gets genuinely annoyed when other people know something about you that he didn’t–wants to know everything, especially the embarrassing stuff. Acts of service king, does things for you and expects nothing but a kiss in return. Gives you the first bite of his food. Forehead kisses 100% of the time. Extremely tenderhearted, wants to be loved and love in return with nothing holding him back. Knows your schedule down to a T. Shakes his head at every joke you tell, but still grants you a laugh. Kisses you slowly and earnestly even if theres people around. Drops the most earth-shattering confessions of love at random moments and just expects you to move on. Matching accessories are a must!! And he will be ready to break up if your forget it one day (we have seen how he is with the dreamies friendship rings). Wraps himself completely around you when no one is around, and stays that way until one of you has to get up. Loves completely and wholeheartedly and is a perfect perfect boy.
JENO Shy and perpetually flustered, cannot believe he got you fr. Alternates between the cockiest boy you’ve ever met and the most oblivious creature around. Is so in awe of you, cannot get over you choosing him. A big baby of a boyfriend. Body slouched over yours at all times. Tells everyone it isn’t obvious how unbelievably whipped he is for you than giggles when you call him a pet name. Loves when you fawn over him lol, would feel so good about himself when you laugh at his jokes or wear an outfit because he said you looked pretty in it. Definitely the kind of boy who gets you a necklace with his initials on it. Is somehow even more smiley when you’re around. His love language is 100% acts of service–helping you with chores and making dinner, he desperately wants to wash your hair and help take your makeup off. Always takes you home himself and makes you call him before you go to bed. Kisses you all over when you’re sad and squeezes you so tight you can’t breathe. Puts his lips right over your ear and whispers so you can hear him in loud places, sometimes telling terrible jokes to see you laugh. Constantly on the phone with you–will get yelled at by his members and staff to focus on his schedule. Takes you on long drives and lets you have the aux the whole time, smiles even when he hates the song. Snuggles up to you and has you in an iron grip all night; wakes up periodically to tell you to stop wiggling. Literally a broken record of “oh my s/o would like this!” and “you would never believe what my s/o told me…” Tucks you into his sweater when you’re cold and always carries extra clothes because he knows you’ll forget. Could never hide his feelings for you, it’s written all over–hairbands and your favorite snacks in his cabinets. Is so so so in love with you, and would never even think about being embarrassed of it. <3
HAECHAN Sweet as cherry pie. Silly and charming and the kindest boy you know. Lives his life attached to you, hands on your hips and kisses pressed everywhere he can reach. Never goes a day without telling you he loves you in the most sickeningly sweet ways possible. Listens to every word you say, goes as far as telling other people to be quiet so he can hear you better. Serenades you with the most obnoxious renditions of love songs and coos when you make faces at him. Teases you endlessly–tickles and jokes and ridiculous nicknames, but would never let anyone else make a joke at your expense. Sleeps fully on top of you, head pressed under your chin and hands slipped under your sleep shirt. Celebrates you and your relationship with all of him, always the loudest voice singing happy birthday and the prettiest flowers congratulating you for an achievement at work or school. Speaks to you so softly and with so much compassion you almost get whiplash when you see him around the dreamies. Brings home sweet treats and little keepsakes from his day out. Will watch a movie or listen to a new song and note all the parts you’d like so he can play it for you later and speak to you about it. Unbelievably protective, not in a toxic way, but he wants so much to be able to take care of you and keep you safe–hand pressed on your back while you walk through crowds, and his hand protecting you from hitting your head as you get in the car. Has lists of important days in his notes app, cataloging gifts he could get you and your order at all your favorite restaurants. The perfect silly boyfriend, caring and lovely and everything you need
JAEMIN Marry this man. Has been committed and steadfast in his dedication to you since you met. Extremely serious when it comes to your heart and your feelings. The first to say I love you or to apologize after a fight–would never raise his voice at you or say things he didn’t mean. Is always feeding you, either a complete meal that took him an hour to make or the most perfect bowl of ramyeon you’ve ever had. Constantly sending you pictures of the cats. LOVES pda–kisses you in front of everyone and laughs when they groan, cuddles with you on the practice room couch, and rolls his eyes when the dreamies gag. Always kisses you with soft hands on your cheeks and the prettiest smile. Buys you a keepsake from everywhere they go on tour and gives it to you in a huge suitcase and will not feel ashamed in the slightest. Somehow finds out how to bring you up in every conversation, “oh they really like this song” or “thats actually their favorite movie you know…” you would truly never have to worry about anything with this man, he’s gonna take care of everything, a future airport dad if i’ve ever seen one. Sends tiktoks of cute animals and pouts if you don’t like them right away. Buys you silly sweatshirts and phonecases and demands you wear them proudly as a symbol of his everlasting love. Out of all of the boys, I feel like he is the most likely to give you a promise ring, and in my heart, I know he would have his name engraved on the inside–a quiet confession only the two of you know about. Sleeps directly on top of you, I just know it… holds onto you in every crowd. So many conversations between little kisses and I love yous. Always carries your things, whether it be a bag or shoes that got too uncomfortable his hands are open and ready whenever you need them. The most perfect boy in the world, and whose surprised?
CHENLE truly your best friend in the entire world, f2l in its entirety… would roast you every minute of every day but if anyone else even dared he is shutting that shit down right away. His arm has a permanent residence on your waist. Giggles at you when you’re annoyed at him but apologizes anyway. Makes you watch him play basketball at 11 pm and laughs when you say you're cold and sleepy, but takes you home right away. Will kiss you in front of anyone–loves it when you get all shy and flustered. Always trying to give you expensive presents and rolling his eyes when you tell him to reign it in. dog dates with Daegal!!! Talks about you so causally that the dreamies didn’t realize you were his girlfriend until he kissed you goodbye, and they were all so dumbfounded. Will watch anything if you like it and will tell you it sucked with a smile on his face before kissing you as an apology. Huge bouquets for any anniversary or birthday. Wraps his arms around you and rocks you around, whispering sweet words that he’d deny if you told anyone about. Stares at you 24/7 and gives you his 100-watt smile. Goes out of his way to help you–buys your groceries, helps wash your hair, picks you up, and takes you wherever you need to go–but always denies it. Begs you to wear his clothes, bonus points if it’s something that has his name on it, or some nct merch. Has an iron grip on your hand at any given point and giggles when you try to get free. Will listen to literally anything you tell him. Smiles into kisses and sighs when you pull away. Is so domestic and lovely in everything he does, even if sometimes he is the biggest menace.
JISUNG so so so shy, truly does not know how to have a s/o in public lmao. When you’re alone he’s the cutest most confident boy in the world but as soon as there is another person around he does not know you. He makes it obvious that it's just because he’s awkward, but sometimes you definitely do have to tell him to stop being a weirdo and to hold your hand. Constantly makes fun of people with you and is always ready to hear some hot goss. Is always listening to you–even if everyone in the room is talking over you, he will be looking at you with his full attention and urging you to go on. Laughs at everything you say even if it's not funny. Kisses your cheek every morning first thing, and thinks you look so cute cuddled up into the covers. Piggy-backs you everywhere: you drank a little too much or it's too early… up you go! You being comfortable and happy is his priority in any situation, and if anyone including himself is disrupting that he is dealing with it immediately. Whether that means complaining to one of hyungs to help him or going straight to the source of the issue, he’s going to try and help you, even if it’s not like him to speak up for himself–you’re the most important thing to him. Tries to teach you nct dances and gets unbearable secondhand embarrassment when he sees you mess up. Almost exposes your relationship once a month. Is wrapped around you every single moment you’re alone, even if it’s just for a second–someone leaves the room? Jisung is suddenly fully enveloping you. Thinks pda is so embarrassing but would try so hard to be more openly affectionate with you. Blushes to his roots when you sweet talk him no matter how long you’ve been together. Kisses your hands when it’s cold outside and wouldn’t even think about giving you anything of his if you needed it. The sweetest, shyest boy, and so wonderful–loving him and being loved in return would be the loveliest gift.
© LUVTAK
#k-labels#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#jeno x reader#mark x reader#jaemin x reader#haechan x reader#chenle x reader#park jisung x reader#nct dream#nct
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LATE NIGHT CUDDLES [OT8]
pairings: boyfriend!ot8 x reader
genre: fluff
word count: 1487 (total)
cw: mentions of reader having boobs in jisung's part, slight mention of sex in felix's part
a/n: wrote this while listening to red lights on repeat. oh how i miss hyunchan
bang chan | 방찬: late night cuddles with chan feel best when he comes home late from the studio and right into your arms. he spent the last few hours trying to get the perfect beat for the upcoming songs and saying he's tired would be an understatement. but coming home to you and being able to rest and let his stress leave his body makes it all worth it. chan wouldn't have it any other way.
chan’s cuddles are warm and tender. his arms wrap around you in a bear hug, letting all your worries melt aways in each other's embrace. sometimes, when you can't sleep, chan will hold you close and caress your skin as he tells you about his day or something funny that happened to one of the other members. when he notices your chest finally lightly rising and falling as you held your eyes shut, he smiles a little to himself. pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he settles himself in bed next to you — wondering how you managed to look so pretty even while you slept.
lee minho | 이민호: late night cuddles with minho feel best when soonie, doongie and dori are also snuggled against the both of you. when you’re watching a movie, his arms are lazily placed around your waist and you can feel the cats’ fur brush against you while they quietly purr. when he averts his gaze and his ears get red once you catch him looking at you instead of the screen. several times.
minho’s cuddles are sweet and quiet. minho isn’t one to prefer words over skinship when it comes to you. if possible, he’d spend the entire day in bed, leaning against you every single second. there are times when you can’t hear a single noise other than the sheets moving with minho settling himself in a more comfortable position. however, the silence feels good. being able to share precious moments together without having the need to speak is something he treasures a lot. he’ll bury his face into the crook of your neck and kiss your skin every once in a while, falling asleep on you not long after.
seo changbin | 서창빈: late night cuddles with changbin feel best when you're just chatting with each other, his big arms wrapped around you and your head resting against his head. he find it to be very intimate when it's just the two of you without any distractions. all his attention is on you while you tell him about your day, thinking of how cute you looked with your eyes gazing up at him.
changbin's cuddles are affectionate and playful. he'll hold your tight against him, squeezing you once or twice to get you to laugh. he’ll pepper your face with kisses and when you tease him back the same way, he'll get all shy with that cute smile of his. cuddles between the two of you are lively and you chat most of the time, joking around. but when you both are tired and feel like resting, you have no problem in remaining silent, clinging to each other and falling asleep in no time — changbin’s chest is the best pillow ever.
hwang hyunjin | 황현진: late night cuddles with hyunjin feel best when you’re lying down on the bench in the balcony, stargazing together and having meaningful conversations. your head rests on his chest, nuzzling deeper as you slowly fall asleep on him and, when you do, he smiles gently to himself, caressing your back, eyes glued to the sky.
hyunjin’s cuddles are romantic and gentle. he loves leaving one of his hands on your waist while the other affectionately caresses your hair. he enjoys cuddling you while watching those emotional movies that will definitely get a tear out of at least one of you. he thinks it’s really heartwarming to spend moments like this with you. kisses are also a must whenever you’re snuggling together. on the crown of your head, on your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck — he’ll kiss you all over your face as his hand wanders over your body. after all, he has to admire the masterpiece before him. hyunjin also makes sure to whisper to you every now and then, saying how good you look and how much he loves you. this man has got you weak in the knees.
han jisung | 한지성: late night cuddles with jisung feel best when he’s asleep on top of you. head buried in your chest as you run a hand through his hair. you’ve always thought he was adorable, but somehow he manages to look even cuter like this, knowing how tired he’s been lately and that he came to you to be able to rest. you feel glad knowing how much he’s comfortable around you.
jisung’s cuddles are intimate and soft. he doesn’t mind being the big or the little spoon, as he gets to hold you either way. when he’s the big spoon, he’ll always have this arm draped around your waist, 24/7, no questions asked. he feels like his arms fit perfectly around it — as if it was made just for him. and when he’s the little spoon, his head will rest on your boobs, remaining in pure bliss. how could he not? they’re so soft, falling asleep on them feels so good. jisung is a total sucker for skinship, and cuddling you never fails to make his day a thousand times better.
lee felix | 이필릭스: late night cuddles with felix feel best after he’s done with gaming for the night and crawls into bed with you, pressing against your body from behind as you whisper to each other, chatting. he tenderly caresses your hip with one hand and with the other, his fingers interlock with yours, slowly but surely lulling you to sleep.
felix’s cuddles are attentive and delicate. he always holds you as if you were made out of porcelain — if he’s too rough with you, he feels like you're going to break (in bed is a different story). he always makes sure to be gentle and soft towards you, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of your body against his. it isn’t unusual for one of you to end up asleep — even if it’s in the middle of that day. felix’s body is so warm and his touch is so sweet that you can’t help but close your eyes and, before you know it, when you open them again, it’s nighttime. you look up, seeing felix’s eyes shut and his breathing steady, his blond hair slightly messy. you chuckle. if you could, you’d live like this forever.
kim seungmin | 김승민: late night cuddles with seungmin feel best when none of you can bring yourselves to go to bed and sleep. you lay on the couch together, your head resting against seungmin’s shoulder as his hand slides under your shirt and caresses your skin gently, both of you looking at his phone while he scrolls through social media.
seungmin’s cuddles are loving and sweet. he loves to place his hand under your shirt, feeling the soft skin under your clothes. his thumb caresses your side tenderly, smiling as he glances towards you every now and then. you cling onto him sweetly, watching his eyes wander around the room as he talks to you about his schedule, only for them to fall back on you eventually. seungmin is naturally softer towards you and isn’t one to be too energetic at night, but when he is, be prepared to receive a tickle attack when you least expect it. he won’t stop until you’re laughing so hard you can feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes. he’ll let you go with a smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips afterwards. he can't help it — he gets a cuteness aggression overload from you.
yang jeongin | 양정인: late night cuddles with jeongin feel best when the two of you are simply looking up to the ceiling, holding each other as his playlist plays in the background. you vibe to the music together, singing some lyrics together as you laugh at one another when you’re off-key. as you eventually grow tired, the songs playing become calmer — almost as if he could tell the time you’d be falling asleep.
jeongin's cuddles are innocent and heartwarming. his hands caress all over your body with care and passion. his fingers feel warm against your skin, making you melt under his touch — is he even aware of what he's doing to you? probably, yes. and he loves every moment of it. you cling to him, resting your head on his chest as you seek comfort in each other's embrace. you chat quietly, your voices mere whispers as you discuss potential plans for the future. the thought of spending your life like this with jeongin makes your heart flutter, and he definitely wants to share all the time he has with you.
© minsheart, 2024
#ෆ tori's writing#kpop#stray kids#skz#skz fanfic#skz fluff#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fluff#bang chan#bang chan x reader#lee know#lee know x reader#seo changbin#changbin#changbin x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#han jisung#jisung x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix#felix#felix x reader#kim seungmin#seungmin#seungmin x reader#yang jeongin#i.n#jeongin x reader
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What Sub? - SKZ OT8
just me thinking about what kind of sub skz would like :p
MDNI 18+ | gen!reader
chan!
likes an obedient sub! chan is such a good dom and loves pleasing his sub, so he expects you to be on your best behavior. that saying, he doesn't mind if you get a little shy or pout a little. maybe even give him a little bit of a hard time, but it can't be often. chan overall needs a good sub that he can pump his load into
minho!
he likes a teasing sub or a slight playful masochist. one that can put up with his antics and a little bit of back n forth. not a full on brat because he would get sick of that attitude real quick, but a few ass slaps and hair pulling never hurt no one. i do think he would want his sub to be more on the obedient side, but it's okay to have a little fun with him too
changbin!
power bottom!! he needs a power bottom!! he's a pleasure dom 100% and can't say no to his baby. you can take take take and he'll give give give!! you can be a little mean to him too, but he needs lots of kisses after. doesn't care what position you put him in as long as he gets to see you cum your brains out. however, there is fine line with him. it's rare, but sometimes you cross it and bin has to put you in your place, and he hatesss making you cry but when you're being a bad sub he needs to show you.
hyunjin!
he loves a devoted sub. basically someone who completely submits and does everything he says. like chan? but way more emotional and no room for disobedience at all. he loves seeing how happy and relaxed you are when he's doing his thing. hyunjin is also a pleasure dom, but he still likes to be in control. if you do break a rule, it's honestly a turn off. accidents happen and yeah maybe you get into it a little too much, but it's when it's purposeful and results in him feeling bad. Hyunjin's a good boy, and it's only fair he has a good sub
han!
is it possible for both of you to be subs...because hannie goes crazy for that. desperate sex is so in his field, so I think a sexual submissive sub is really his thing. basically someone who would do anything and everything sexual for their dom. he wants to do an icky role play? his sub will gladly agree. he wants to be treated poorly? like a god? yes and yes, a sexual submissive will do anything for him. he loves that so much and just telling you what he wants to do and you happily agreeing has him leaking
felix!
this one is hard because I think Felix likes anybody, but imma have to say a service sub might be his fav. he gets to lay back n relax and he gets to cum?? sounds like a great night. it's not like he won't do anything for you, but the thought of having someone to make sure to milk his cock dry is so hot. if you do well, he'll reward you after. but right now, making sure you can see his chest turn pink and little tears build in his eyes is all you need to worry about.
seungmin!
i know it's gonna sound so basic, but a bratty sub. the resisting, the fight for power, the inventible submission...yeah he likes that. this type of play can't happen all the time. it's very draining and takes a mental/physical toll, but it's so damn fun. he loves when he pretends that you won, letting you pin his arms above his head and grinding on his cock to your liking until he's had enough and flips you over. gripping a fist full of your hair and shoving your face in the sheets as he fucks into you. muffling your cries and whimpers and - sorry I'll stop (aftercare goes crazy btw)
jeongin!
jeongin needs someone who listens really good, so a bedroom submissive is the way to go. they're really similar to a service sub, but it usually involves a little bit of pain and being submissive only takes place in the bedroom whereas a service sub is usually someone who likes being a good sub outside of the sheets. jeongin likes seeing you turn into a different person during sex. getting to flip you in different positions, spitting in your mouth, making you please him, making you take how much he pleases you. possibilities are endless and he thinks it's a healthy balance between personal and social life
#smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids#skz#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts#skz hyunjin#skz changbin#skz seungmin#skz bangchan#skz ot8#skz han jisung#skz lee minho#skz lee felix#skz lee know#skz felix#skz seo changbin#skzsmut#skz i.n#skz x reader#skz imagines#changbin#lee know#bang chan#han jisung#poly!skz
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Unheavenly Creatures III | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)
Part One | Part Two |
MASTERLIST
Requests are open!
Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25 @cauliflowercounty @mamawiggers1980 @catsinacottage @targaryen-madness @juliskopf
Warnings: group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism
Feyd-Rautha’s holy birthday lasted a full week. All of Giedi Prime celebrated their na-Baron, and for the nobility, that meant several long days of feasting, gladiatorial spectacles, and pro-House Harkonnen propaganda.
Within the walls of the palace, yet another banquet was being prepared, all of the extra chairs already placed at the long table in the dining hall. All of the important guests would be present for this last great feast before they began their journeys home in the coming days, and, upon Feyd-Rautha's request--demand, really--you and your fellow concubines were to be in attendance.
"Do we often receive these dinner summons?" you asked, facing yourself in a mirror as a servant ran a razor over your scalp. Though you had received two rounds of Harkonnen beauty treatments intended to halt hair growth entirely, you had woken up that morning with a soft layer of peach fuzz atop your head. After a fair amount of taunting from Feyd-Rautha, whose ego seemed to be running particularly rampant after so many days of celebration, an attendant from the Baron’s spa had come to take care of the problem, rubbing you in more Harkonnen chemicals while the others prepared themselves for the day.
“On occasion,” Yarina hissed, smoothing a beauty cream over her brow.
“I prefer feasting here, with Feyd,” Issa said, sounding annoyed. “There are always many eyes on us in the dining hall.”
“I enjoy watching the other Houses,” Yarina said. “Sometimes there is even a Bene Gesserit.”
You hummed in thought as the spa attendant finished with you, bowed, and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She likely feared you; after all, Feyd’s concubines had been known to bite, especially when hungry. Only the day before you had watched as Yarina snapped her sharp teeth at the Baron’s mentat when he walked too close, and you had heard stories of Feyd-Rautha returning to his chambers to find that she and Issa had slaughtered a servant. Once, supposedly, they had even killed a would-be assassin they had sniffed out, though the remains were far too mutilated for anyone to determine the offender’s House or origins.
“Do you recall how I spoke of my former House allying with House Harkonnen?” You asked, turning to look at the others in their seats.
They both perked up at the question.
“They will be in attendance?” Yarina asked with a grin.
“I assume so,” you said. “Perhaps we will see them today.”
Issa twisted in her seat to better face you, the motion fluid and languid. “Perhaps Feyd will serve them to us on a platter.”
The two bared their teeth at each other in delight, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever grow to become so ravenous. When they weren’t concerned with Feyd-Rautha, their cravings always turned to food, and they sometimes acted as though they were starving. You knew that couldn’t be the case; they ate at least two full meals a day, oftentimes three, with snacks sprinkled in throughout. This week, thanks to all of the feasting, they were surely not actually hungry…but they spoke of it more frequently than ever, eyeing the fresh corpses the ba-Baron left in his wake and hissing whenever he told them no.
“I think it is likely we will be asked to sit and eat quietly,” you said, testing the waters with your statement. “Don’t you? There will be so many important guests.”
“Not important to me,” Issa turned back around as she continued her beauty rituals, seeming uninterested now.
You sat and watched the two of them and wondered what they may have been like before falling into Feyd-Rautha’s service. Had they been the daughters of Harkonnen nobility, living in the palace and watching the na-Baron in the arena every other week? Perhaps they had known him in their youth, or at least Yarina had. You recalled that she had been with him the longest, though you did not know by what margin she surpassed Issa. Had they been Harkonnen celebrities? Models, perhaps? Feyd preferred to remain in the palace, and so you had never spent much time venturing forth into the capital city. Perhaps their images had been all over Giedi Prime, advertising synthetic food products. Perhaps they had both been the daughters of families with spice fortunes, or perhaps they, like you, had once been in the employ of noblewomen, and had found their way into Feyd-Rautha’s lap.
Or, you thought with a shudder, perhaps they had come from the Bene Tleilax, and they were simply some of their tamer genetically modified products. You had glimpsed the creatures kept as pets by the Baron, strange, mutated things that scurried about on too many spider-legs yet understood human speech. If Vladimir could purchase such things, then perhaps Feyd had purchased modified Harkonnen women for his own collection…though, you knew Giedi Prime itself hosted scientists and beauticians capable of making the changes Yarina and Issa sported, because they had made them to you.
You found yourself favoring the model theory, though it left room for improvement. Feyd’s darlings had a lust for human flesh that you had yet to see in any other Harkonnen. Even Feyd-Rautha didn’t partake in the same way. He ingested blood, most often yours, and you had seen him eat the prepared organ here or there, but they all acted as if you needed to consume them. You wondered if there would be lungs at this final feast.
You enjoyed lung.
As the others finished in front of the mirror, you stood, moving to the rack of clothing reserved for you. You did not know who created the dresses you wore, only that they were likely highly respected and revered. You regularly received new ensembles, and they were always simple—black, industrial, synthetic garments that matched the others’. Shortly after Feyd -Rautha took you in, you had been measured by a tailor’s assistant, a box of clothing arriving in your chambers the following morning. You often dressed yourself, but for special occasions, servants cleaned and laid your dresses out for you, and you had become rather pampered after a week of this.
Now, you stood facing a black dress, its shiny material soft and rubbery to the touch. A fair portion of the bodice was a thin, flesh-toned mesh, making it appear that the black, synthetic material of the dress only covered two thin lines stretching from your waist and up over your breasts. The skirt was long and opaque, and simple black slippers sat on the floor beneath where it hung.
You reached for it and slipped it over your head, enjoying the feeling of the stretchy fabric on your bare skin. It was smooth and without any blemishes, just the way House Harkonnen liked their things to be. Looking at your reflection now, you felt streamlined, welcoming the way the dress hugged you, the garment clinging as if it had been painted on.
Issa and Yarina had been gifted matching gowns, and when they had both finished their beauty rituals, a servant helped them dress. You should have requested—demanded—the assistance as well, you realized, but old habits died hard, and there were some things you didn’t think would ever come second nature. You were still too used to being the one summoned to help with the stately garments of your former mistress, and you continuously had to remind yourself now that you were one of the highest-ranking women on all of Giedi Prime.
“How do I look?” Yarina asked, though it was a rhetorical question.
“Divine,” Issa hissed with a grin, showing her teeth in a way that was anything but heavenly.
Yarina returned it, then looked to you. You agreed with Issa, lips stretching into a too-wide smile, before the three of you devolved into a fit of unholy giggling, the servants wincing as your shrieking laughter pierced their eardrums.
“I do so enjoy these events,” Yarina sighed, making her way towards the doorway.
“Why is that?” You asked, following.
You walked out into the main room in which Feyd’s bed sat, passing it as you trailed behind her, Issa behind you. You all three retired to the lounge area, sitting on the smooth black couches as a servant poured three glasses of a dark, viscous drink.
“The guests are fascinating,” Yarina said as she waved a hand, dismissing all of the servants. “Issa doesn’t think so. But I do.”
They quickly fled the room, shoulders hunched as they stared down at their feet. You had seen more and more of them all week, a result of the na-Baron’s birthday festivities. They were being worked round the clock, you surmised, and they were probably able to thanks to the chemical stimulants the Harkonnens so loved.
“Before I came here, i attended many dinners that my mistress hosted for the other Great Houses,” you said. “Or, I suppose, I helped her prepare for them, and was occasionally allowed to sit in. I was never so important there as I am here.”
“You’re very important,” Issa hissed, the sound coming out gentler than normal. “To us.”
“And all of Giedi Prime,” Yarina ran the back of her knuckles over your arm.
“And Feyd,” Issa added.
“What about Feyd?” A rough voice asked as the door slid open.
Your heart jumped in elation as Feyd-Rautha strode into the room. He stopped in front of the sitting area, looking over the three of you with dark eyes. He did this often; you knew he would spend hours watching you if he could, and he sometimes did, memorizing every curve, taking note of what he liked best and what he wished to change. Some of it had surprised you, and in some ways, he was far less demanding than men on other planets, including the one you had come from. In other areas, though, he was very specific, and you sometimes wondered why. He had his tastes, you supposed, and he had the means to indulge, unlike many others. You were his precious toy, a doll to be played with and modified as he pleased.
“We’ve missed you,” Issa purred, standing.
You followed suit. You would have crawled to him if you had to, but it was never a race, nor was it a struggle. You moved at the same pace as the others, and when you reached him, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, just as he did theirs, though his hand found its way to your waist as he draped himself over you in what could have been considered an embrace.
“I’ve missed you as well, m’darlings,” he murmured as he kissed you once more before letting go and moving on to Yarina.
“Do you like our dresses?” You asked.
As he leaned back, you felt his eyes rake over you. Then, he smirked, and you found yourself wishing to feel his lips upon you once more.
“Beautiful.”
And you knew he meant it, because he always did.
-0-
A servant fetched you when it was time, though Feyd seemed determined to make all four of you fashionably late, as he was too busy holding your hips down as you straddled his face to be bothered with leaving in a timely manner. Eventually, however, he had had his fill, and you were trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs as you followed him out of the suite.
The corridors were abuzz with activity, Harkonnen aristocrats and visitors alike pausing to watch as you passed. You heard whispers and saw hands shielding mouths as if that would keep their words from reaching your ears, and even if it could, you already knew what they were saying. They’d been exchanging the same shocked, starstruck expressions the entire week, their eyes glued to you as if trying to memorize every pore, every flex, every muscle. You had mostly grown used to the scrutiny of the public eye on Giedi Prime, and your skin no longer crawled when the hungry gazes of the aristocracy raked over it. your newfound celebrity fit like a glove, it seemed.
The dining hall was nearly full when you finally reached it, most of the long table’s place setting s occupied. It was rare that you ate within these walls, Feyd often preferring to take his meals in his chambers rather than with his uncle; he had never given any explicit explanation as to why, but you had always imagined he preferred the peace and time away from the Baron.
The banquet hall’s longest table, reserved for these special feasts and meetings, played host to a variety of foods, some of which you did not recognize even after all of your time living amongst House Harkonnen. You did spy, however, a platter of kidneys near another of livers, two organs you had grown increasingly familiar with as of late. They both sat before three empty chairs positioned near one end of the long, metal table, and you recognized them to be places set for yourself and your companions.
“Your na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” a voice announced as you followed Feyd further into the room.
The dinner guests all stood quickly while the slaves lining the walls stared at the floor. The air was tense, as it so often was within the Baron’s walls, though Baron Harkonnen himself appeared to be rather at ease; he did not deign to rise for his nephew, choosing instead to slouch in his chair and spread his arms wide in a celebratory gesture.
“Finally, you join us, nephew,” came his voice like wet stones grinding over each other.
Though you could not see Feyd-Rautha’s expression from your position behind him, you imagined the glower you knew to be there. He had been cross with his uncle all week, ever since the incident with the not-drugged Atreides slave in the arena. You could not blame him for his disdain—Vladimir Harkonnen’s gaze still made your skin crawl whenever you felt those beady eyes upon you.
Without a word, Feyd walked to the chair nearest the door, directly across the long table from the Baron, who sat at its head. You followed in line, making for the third and furthest open seat from his with the expectation that Issa and Yarina would occupy the two closer to the na-Baron, indicating their seniority. You were surprised when they both fluidly sidestepped past you, positioning you at Feyd’s right hand while they took the two further seats, conspiracy shimmering in their huge black eyes. There was no time to question them, however; the moment Feyd-Rautha reached forward and drank from his wine cup, the spell of silence was broken and the feasting began.
The Baron spoke to his nearby mentat about something too boring for you to care to attempt to listen in on, and soon, the guests began conversing amongst themselves, the huge banquet hall filled with the low, echoing murmur of their voices. As you looked around at them, you recognized the fashions of a few Great Houses and wondered if you had once played host to these very same people on your home planet. You recognized thinly-veiled mannerisms of unnerved yet fascinated tourists, some of them trying their best to avoid insulting the greatly-feared Feyd-Rautha at his own birthday feast. Their eyes had a tendency to wander, even this early into dinner, and you watched as a few of them glanced over to him while conversing with their fellows only to quickly look away once more.
You noticed how they all seemed to be avoiding looking at you, their eyes seeming to skip past your corner of the table on their way to and from the na-Baron. In your peripheral vision, you could see that Issa and Yarina had yet to move, their silverware and metal drinking cups untouched as they, too, surveyed the room. You briefly thought of the story of how they had sniffed out the assassin, and you wondered if they were attempting to do the same now. If they were, it put a damper on your plan to speak to them; you certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt their work if there truly was someone nefarious afoot. Or at least, someone more nefarious than the average Harkonnen nobility.
As you looked down the table, you spied several intriguing figures—A veiled woman stood out, her food disappearing behind her covering. You recognized her to be Bene Gesserit, a witch whom you could never hope to understand, if she was anything like the ones you had encountered in your previous home. While you could not see her face, you imagined that she was watching the room much in the same way you were, though you were certain her thoughts were far more secretive and far more conniving than your benign observations.
Nearer to the Baron, you spied Feyd’s older brother, Glossu Rabban, the Count of Lankiveil, the rainy planet Feyd-Rautha had been born on. You had often wondered if Feyd remembered his true home…though it was incredibly difficult to imagine him residing anywhere else, when he so perfectly matched Giedi Prime’s harshness.
Glossu seemed happy to be seated near to his uncle. You could hear him laughing loudly, tearing into his food as he soaked up the attention his brother’s guests were obliged to pay him. The former governor of Arrakis still harbored a bruised ego after control of the spice-planet had been plucked out of House Harkonnen’s grasp, and you found it a bit difficult to believe that you were supposed to be afraid of him. Everyone called him Beast Rabban, and perhaps you had simply spent too much time around his younger brother to buy into the nickname.
As your eyes traveled back down the opposite side of the table, you recognized the textiles of your home planet and let your gaze linger. Had you really once worn clothing like that? So many layers of warm, knit fabric that would smother you beneath Giedi Prime’s sun? You had grown so used to the fashion of House Harkonnen and the stretchy, rubbery material you so often wore now that the thought of being weighed down by such heavy clothing made your chest feel tight. The dark blues and greens of your former home looked strange to you now, and as your eyes trailed upwards to the faces of the nobles who wore them, you found that you nearly didn’t recognize them.
There they sat, the Lord and Lady, the heads of your former House. She wore her hair long, and as you studied it, you remembered how it felt to brush every night and every morning, for she would never stoop so low as to maintain it herself. He bore a naive, jovial expression, that of a man who thought himself surrounded by nothing less than friends, a man who believed he could buy anything and anyone though his House was far from the richest or most powerful. To his credit, the people nearest to him enjoyed his company, laughing and smiling at his words. What he lacked in true power he made up for in charisma.
“Is that them?” Yarina hissed below the sound of conversation.
“Yes,” you replied, finally tearing your eyes away from your former masters to survey the food in your immediate vicinity.
“Hmph.” She scoffed.
“Unimpressed?” You asked.
“Highly.”
You heard a snort of amusement to your left and glanced in its direction. Feyd-Rautha was slumped back in his chair, cup in one hand while the other supported his chin as he leaned his elbow on the chair’s arm.
“Unimpressed, indeed.” He murmured, then leaned in and passed his goblet to you. “You may need this more than I, darlin’.”
Conversation around your end of the table lulled as the dinner guests paused to watch the na-Baron’s gesture. They had all been keeping one eye on him, you surmised, speaking with their peers whilst nervously watching for any change in his behavior. His movement drew their attention and soon their gazes were fixed upon you, intense, judgmental curiosity burning into you as you steeled yourself and accepted the wine.
“Thank you, Feyd.” You said in your best Issa imitation.
Feyd offered a smirk and reached for you, his hand lingering beneath your chin as his thumb brushed your cheek while you drank. The wine—if it could even be called as such—was thick, and you recognized it to be a mixture of blood and an as yet unknown liquid that made its appearance in Harkonnen cuisine regularly. It contained spice, you knew; you could taste it, a hot, somewhat savory tinge that sent a tingle down your spine.
“Of course.” He squeezed the back of your neck for a moment, something he often did absentmindedly, and took the goblet back.
Still aware of the guests’ gazes, you turned your attention to your food. Plucking a kidney off a platter, you chewed it slowly, eyes remaining on the table as you listened to the conversation pick back up.
“From where did you acquire your concubines, na-Baron?” Someone asked.
You glanced up at Feyd to see him watching a man across from you. He seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to play nice or demand an execution take place, his jaw set as his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It was his holy birthday, though, and nearly the end of the celebrations, and you watched as he chose the more peaceful, talkative route.
“My darlings find their way to me on their own.” He said.
“How so, na-Baron?”
“He purchases them!” Baron Vladimir interrupted from the other end of the table, laughing loudly in a way that was not entirely free of mocking.
All heads swiveled to face him, yours included. Yarina hissed quietly, a noise of distaste. If she were any nearer to the Baron, you’d have been afraid that he would have heard and immediately demanded she be disposed of…but there, so close to Feyd, she was safe. And so were you. 
Feyd-Rautha glared at his uncle, who continued.
“My nephew is a man who knows what he wants,” Vladimir said. “Nothing will deter him—and nothing is too good for my heir. That is why when he interrupts trade negotiations to demand a new plaything be included in the deal, I oblige.”
Feyd’s expression was purely sour, his cheeks hollowing as his jaw clenched. When he spoke, you heard the restraint in his voice. “And I am ever thankful, Uncle.”
The Baron gave a nod, clearly pleased with himself, and as conversation began anew your eyes drifted to the rulers of your former planet. They seemed unable to choose how they should feel—you spied smugness in their expressions alongside confusion and mild alarm. Were they suddenly worried now? Concerned for the well-being of the handmaiden they had sold without so much as a second thought? You watched as they shared an uncertain look with each other before they forced smiles onto their faces once more.
You heard a quiet hmph to your right and realized that Issa and Yarina had also been watching them, their nearly identical faces parallel to your own. Would your previous keepers even be able to tell you apart from them? Had it been so long and had you changed so much that they’d be unable to choose you from a lineup?
“You may pursue them later,” Feyd rasped, cutting into a piece of meat. “Eat now, darlings.”
Issa hummed, the sound more akin to a purr, and you obliged as well, plucking a rare lung off of a platter and chewing it thoughtfully. The conversation around you blended into dull, white noise, and as always, your focus was more on Feyd-Rautha than anywhere else.
He conversed with his guests and you occasionally felt his leg or foot brush against yours beneath the table, a reminder that he was there. You ate in silence, sometimes sharing a glance with Issa and Yarina when something stood out in the sea of voices. You could tell they were more interested in the Bene Gesserit than anyone else in attendance, their black eyes fixated on the woman they could not even see behind the veil. Why they cared so much, you did not know…so you left them to it and tried to enjoy your first large banquet on Giedi Prime.
After a final course of black, bloody desserts, dinner concluded. Feyd-Rautha left the room first and you followed closely behind, hot on his heels as he strode out into the corridor. The Baron was next to leave, surrounded by his guard, and you hovered behind Feyd as his uncle said a final happy birthday before floating away in the direction of his private spa.
Feyd-Rautha glared after him, fists clenched at his sides. “I should kill him.”
The bold statement alarmed you, but the others remained calm.
“He will not taste good,” Issa hissed, leaning her chin on his shoulder as her hands spread over his chest from behind. “So much meat, gone to waste…”
Feyd still stared at his uncle’s shadow as it retreated around a corner. “He does not deserve to be eaten.”
“Why do you wish to kill him, Feyd?” You asked, stepping out to face him and gazing at him with big, black eyes.
The na-Baron’s head snapped around to look at you, and there he saw you for what you were; his newest, freshest, most naive concubine, whose home planet was half a galaxy away and who had nothing but him and his other darlings now. Though you had settled in well and called Giedi Prime your home now, he was reminded that you were not truly Harkonnen, and you might never be.
“Do you wish to speak with your former owners?” He asked, changing the subject.
You frowned at the attempted diversion, but took the bait nonetheless and considered his question. Did you wish to see them? In the time you had spent away, you had changed considerably, not only physically but mentally as well. Harkonnen customs were less and less strange by the day, and your memories of your old home felt odd and dreamlike now. What would you gain from revisiting the people from that life? Did you desire closure? Or were you beginning to lean towards speaking with them because a part of you was still angry about their abandonment of you, and you wanted them to see what had become of the handmaiden they left behind on Giedi Prime?
“I do, Feyd.”
“…then we will call on them tonight.” He decided, taking your hand and pressing a kiss that was smooth as a sharpened blade to the back of it.
“How exciting,” Issa hissed as the four of you made your way to the na-Baron’s royal chambers.
“We have never had such an opportunity,” Yarina said, eyes alight with mischief.
“Did you see their faces at the feast?” Issa laughed, taking your hand and twisting your fingers together with hers. “They did not know how to feel, knowing what happened to you.”
“I will not accept their pity,” you growled. “I do not need it, when my life is so much better now.”
“Pity?” Yarina asked, taking your other hand in hers. “Why should they pity you?”
You mulled your next words over, unsure of what to say. Not wanting to offend them nor Feyd-Rautha, you spoke carefully. “Because of how they must see me, through their eyes.”
The harpies seemed genuinely confused, looking at each other with tilted heads.
“They must see me as a slave,” you continued.
“Are there no concubines on their planet?” Issa asked. “Do they not know what it means to be one?”
“No, they…they are married and I do not remember any concubines there,” you said, now thoroughly confused by their confusion.
“…oh, pet,” Feyd-Rautha twisted his head back to look at you, pausing in his journey back to his rooms. “…you truly do not understand, do you?”
“What? What do I not understand?” You asked, looking between him and the others.
“Call yourself what you will,” he said, raising a hand to cup the side of your neck in a possessive way, “concubine. Pet. Darling. But you are mine, whatever you are. You bear no crown, but any heir you give me would be legitimate. You belong to a Great House with wealth and power far beyond that of your old masters’, and now, in the eyes of House Harkonnen and the Imperium, you are far more important than them.”
“I…am?” You asked.
“Of course,” Yarina laid a hand on your shoulder.
“It is nost pity they will feel towards you,” Issa said. “It is fear.”
-0-
Feyd-Rautha gave the Lord and Lady of your home planet precisely ten Giedi Prime minutes to prepare themselves before the four of you arrived at their guest room. You could imagine them scrambling, forever obsessed with their image and always wanting to impress the greater Houses. At this time of night, the Lady would have already been changing into her robes for sleeping, and once upon a time, you would have been the one dressing her for this seemingly impromptu visit. Tonight, you were assisted by your own servant, who dressed you in another smooth black dress that clung to you like a second skin.
As your arrival was announced by one of the guards at the door, it slid open to reveal plain living chambers. You recalled the rooms in the guest wing from your brief time staying in your own, when what had been intended as a brief visit to Giedi Prime became a permanent move. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, and the suite’s inhabitants looked sorely out of place amongst the brushed steel and industrial trimmings.
They appeared flustered, dressed in heavy, opulent evening wear. It would be strange to host anyone so late in the day, and downright shocking to receive the na-Baron himself, someone who could—and should—have demanded they come to him and not the other way round. Yet there stood Feyd-Rautha with his entourage, hands folded neatly behind his back, knives sheathed at his sides. You stood behind his right shoulder, facing the people you once served, looking at them through different eyes. They seemed so strange to you now, so foreign; you could barely remember how it felt to braid hair like theirs, or handle the textiles they wore. You had grown used to the Harkonnen customs that surrounded you, and the ways of your own birth house had become entirely alien.
“Na-Baron, this is quite a surprise!” The Lord said nervously as he rose from his seat.
“The feast was positively divine,” the Lady added, standing as well.
“To what do we owe such an honor?”
Feyd-Rautha simply watched them for a long moment, looking on as they quickly grew uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze.
“We are not here to speak about the feast.” He finally said.
“O-oh?” The Lord stammered. “Please, how may we be of assistance, na-Baron?”
“You recall the pet I obtained from you.” Feyd said bluntly.
“The handmaiden?” The Lady asked, glancing away from him to look at his companions. “Yes, of course.”
“It was an honor to supply a servant to the esteemed na-Baron of House Harkonnen,” the Lord added. “Would you like more? We have several with us—“
“No.” Feyd-Rautha interrupted with a glare. “I have no need for more.”
You felt your heart swell with a smug pride.
“I came to show what’s been done with your former slave,” he said.
“Oh, no, na-Baron, we of our House do not keep slaves—“
“Shh,” the Lady hissed sharply, silencing her husband as Feyd-Rautha stepped aside to reveal his darlings in full.
You stood between the others, watching from your place in line as the Lord and Lady looked at each other uneasily. When their eyes turned to you, there almost seemed to be a spark of recognition there…but when they saw Issa and Yarina, it faded, and you realized they had no clue which one was you.
“Surely she is not here with us,” the Lord said, glancing to the na-Baron.
“Harkonnen beauty treatments,” Feyd said, grinning and revealing his black teeth. “And my own strict regimen.”
“And how have you been…enjoying her?” The Lady asked.
“Ask her yourself.”
Her eyes passed over you twice. “Is that you, my dear?”
Issa hissed.
The Lady looked even more uncomfortable, and it was then that you chose to take pity on her and stepped forward.
“I must admit, I am a bit disappointed,” you said, facing her evenly. “We used to spend so much time together, after all.”
“There you are!” She exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest in melodramatic relief. “Tell me, how do you fare? It has been so difficult finding a new handmaiden of your caliber. Good help can be so tricky, you understand.”
She looked to the na-Baron as if he could relate. He offered nothing but a slight grimace in return.
“When I was informed that I was to stay on Giedi Prime, I thought the world was ending.” You admitted. “Everything I had ever known was suddenly so far away, completely out of my grasp…and I was left in the care of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a man whose reputation precedes him throughout the galaxy.”
“It was just business, you understand,” the Lord said.
“Business?” You asked, looking to him with your black, unblinking eyes.
“Well…yes,” he shifted uncomfortably.
“Darling, we would never have given you up for anything less than your worth,” the Lady said.
You wanted to recoil, but you held firm, your voice even when you spoke. “Only the na-Baron may call me that.”
“I beg your pardon?” She scoffed.
Issa and Yarina hissed quietly.
“Feyd-Rautha is the only one permitted to call me that.” You repeated.
“Call you what?”
“Darlin’…are you certain you do not want them dead?” Feyd interjected, one of his knives suddenly unsheathed.
The Lord and Lady both suddenly paled.
“Th-there’s no need for that!” The Lord stammered quickly. “My wife meant no harm, na-Baron—“
“Do not apologize to me.” Feyd-Rautha growled. “Apologize to her.”
The Lady looked as if she would rather drink the black sludge in the Harkonnen spa. “Na-Baron, she is a handmaiden—“
“I am a concubine,” you said sternly, mustering as much confidence as you could in that moment. “And you are a guest in my home.” You stepped forward to face her more evenly, staring at her. In the past, she had always seemed larger than life, and though you knew much more of her personal life than most on her planet, she has always been glamorous and untouchable. Now, you saw that she was simply a woman—much in the same way that your lovely Feyd was simply a man.
“Remind them to fear you,” you heard Yarina hiss quietly from behind you.
“I’m hungry…” Issa whined.
“Patience,” Feyd-Rautha muttered.
“I am the reason we are here now,” you said to the Lady. “It was my choice to come to this room and face you.”
“Why, then?” She asked, holding her chin high as she looked down her nose at you.
“So that you might see what became of the servant girl you left behind.”
“Am i to feel ashamed, then?” She asked. “We did what we felt was right.”
“You sold me.”
“Tell me, then, are you not happy here?”
“I am.” You admitted. “And I do not doubt you have lost no sleep over me. I suppose I chose to come here to see you again…to look you in the eye as an equal and ask myself why I ever thought you were my superior.”
Her face twisted then as she tried to hold herself back. Had you spoken to her in such a way while in her service, you no doubt would have received a lashing—but now, with Feyd-Rautha and two ravenous harpies mere steps away, she didn’t dare touch you.
“You were the final thing connecting me to my old life,” you said. “A part of me wanted to find out if I would miss it. If seeing you again would provoke some sort of longing inside me. But…I am very pleased to find that I feel nothing of the kind.”
“Then what is next, Lady Harkonnen?” She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I will have your tongue served on a platter if you do not learn to hold it.” 
She blinked in shock.
“I once thought you to be some great and noble creature,” you wrinkled your nose. “But you are only a person. How silly i once was, to have ever feared you, when you should be the one who fears me.”
You turned your back on her then, returning to Feyd-Rautha. He stood with the others, testing his blade’s sharpness with his own fingertips out of boredom.
“Finished?” He asked.
“We are done here,” you replied.
“Do you feel better?”
“I do.”
He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing dark blood over your skin. “Let us leave.”
You felt your former mistress watching you as you fell in behind him and exited the room, and you could imagine her anger and confusion. You had no doubt given her too much to dwell on for the night, but your own heart felt a bit lighter now, and any doubts you may have had that Giedi Prime was truly your home had been thoroughly snuffed out.
“I wanted to taste them,” Issa hissed.
“Exotic food is so difficult to come by…” Yarina sighed, taking your arm in hers.
“Harder to kill leaders of the Great Houses,” Feyd glanced over his shoulder. “There are more questions asked.”
“Killing them would not have solved anything,” you said.
“It would have solved my hunger.” Issa said.
“We will find you fresh lungs,” Feyd grinned. “A snack, before bed.”
You saw her return the grin, her sharp, black teeth glistening in the low light of the corridor. When she looked to you excitedly, you found her joy to be infectious, and smiled back at her.
-0-
“Feyd?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“Will you join me in the bath?”
He looked to where the others were sleeping in his bed, a tangle of limbs, both covered in bite marks the same as you. “You do not wish to sleep?”
“Not yet,” you said, standing before him.
He offered you as sympathetic a look as he was capable of and stood, placing a hand on the back of your neck as he steered you to his personal spa room.
The door slid open to reveal the steamy bath, always prepared and heated so that it may be used at any hour. There were no Harkonnen slaves lingering near the walls, leaving the two of you alone together for the first time that day. While Issa and Yarina slept peacefully, you slipped into the oily black pool, aided by Feyd, who joined you not long after.
He sat against the wall and pulled you into his lap, sighing and closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Something troubles you.”
You turned, resting your cheek on his chest as you gazed up at him. “I have been…curious about something you said this evening.”
He cracked an eye open to look at you. “Tell me.”
“Do you desire an heir?”
“I must secure my legacy,” he answered simply.
“Then why have you not yet?”
Both eyes were open now as you looked at you. “What do you mean, pet?”
“If you want an heir, why do you not have one?” You asked.
“They cannot conceive.”
His words were plain, and yet they struck you.
“Issa and Yarina?”
He nodded once. “Many of those on Giedi Prime are not fertile. They are no exception.”
“Oh…”
“Do not pity them. They have little interest in the entire ordeal.”
“Then how does House Harkonnen reproduce, if fertility is such a problem?”
“Treatments,” he shrugged slightly. “Many infants are too weak to live. We do not have large families. Only the strongest can survive on this planet.”
“Like you?”
“Yes.” He said smugly. “And my heirs.”
“So you do want them.”
“Will you give them to me?”
You pushed back against his chest to stare at him. “Me?”
“Yes.” He said as if it were obvious. “Who else?”
“A wife, perhaps?”
“I do not want one.”
“What if you must marry for politics?”
“Then she will be a lonely wife. You three are all I want.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you back against his chest. “You will give me an heir. In time.
“Yes, Feyd,” you sighed, pleased with your new distinction amongst your companions. “I will.”
“You know I care for you.”
“Yes.”
“I would kill for you.”
“I have seen you do it.”
“Not only for fresh food,” he said. “For any reason. I would have killed your former owners. I wanted to.”
“I thought you said it was more complicated?” You teased.
“It is. But I would have done it.”
You smiled as you melted against him. “I know you would have, Feyd. And one day, perhaps I will kill for you.”
He smirked. “I have no doubt you will, darling. Now…relax with me.”
He leaned his head back once more and sighed, and you closed your eyes, content within the warmth of the oil and blood.
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Building Each Other Up Pt. 2
Read Pt. 1 here.
Mark's POV
"Fuckkk," I muttered, flexing and feeling up my body and arms. The sensation of Shane being expelled from me, while surprising, actually felt really good—almost like a mental-only orgasm.
Shane, now in my body, was still sitting on the floor, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes. I took a moment to take it all in, before finally looking down at him.
"Shane, you okay?" I asked. “Or should I call you Mark now?” I said with a smile.
He blinked a few times, shaking his head as if to clear it. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, his voice—my voice—definitely a bit angry.
"I don't know, man. This is new for me too. I guess... I guess I pushed you out. Are you alright?" I said.
"No! Dude, what the fuck, why wouldn’t you get out?"
I raised my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean to stay that long. I was just having such a good time training, and I wanted to help you out."
His eyes narrowed, frustration evident in his tone. "Well, that fucking sucked to be trapped inside my head for that long.”
"I know, I know," I said, my voice earnest. "I'm really sorry. I got carried away. It won't happen again."
"Okay, do we have any more of the potion on hand? Is that all we need to swap back, you think?" Shane asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"Wait, wait, hold on," I said quickly. "You're out now. Why don't we just stay like this for a little bit? I'll keep training in your body, and you can actually enjoy the time off rather than just being locked in your head."
He looked at me, still clearly annoyed but weighing his options. To swap back, he knew he would need to jump into my body and go through that whole process again. And who knows if he’d be able to actually force me out of this sexy body if I didn’t want to leave?
Shane sighed, running a hand through his—my—hair. "Okay," he relented. "But just a few days. And you better not pull any more stunts."
I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Scout's honor. Just a few days, I promise. And I’ll keep pushing hard at the gym to make sure you're in the best shape possible for the competition."
Before he could change his mind, I left the gym and walked out to my car and quickly took a few selfies.
---
The next night, I invited Ali over. It had been over a week since we’d last met up, and I was excited to be able to fuck him without Shane being there—it felt more intimate.
I wasn’t entirely sure how Shane felt about the sex part of the arrangement. Usually, if I even hinted at the idea of hooking up with a guy, he’d retreat into his subconscious and not be a part of it. He didn’t have a problem with me doing it per se. I mean how could he, it was his idea first. But I just think he found the whole thing a bit weird to not be in control of. I kind of got off on that back in the day, but I respect that he doesn’t.
But now, this was going to be the third time I’d hooked up with Ali. Maybe Shane would have a problem with me hooking up with the same guy so consistently—he probably wouldn’t want to give Ali the wrong ideas about this body.
Well, the good thing at least is that I’ve only really been messaging Ali on Grindr so far. I had made a profile using Shane’s pics on my own phone so that I could keep the fun going even when I was out of it. I made sure to have a secret backlog of photos too. All that to say, there’s not a huge risk of Shane finding out.
When the doorbell rang, I opened the door to see Ali standing there, looking hotter than ever in his tank top, beads of sweat still glistening from his workout. I could tell he had come straight from the gym, and the sight of his toned muscles and confident stride sent a jolt of excitement through me.
"Hey," he greeted me with a warm smile as he stepped inside. "You look great."
"Thanks, you too," I replied, my eyes drinking in the sight of his fit, athletic body.
We made our way to the living room, and as we settled in, Ali turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "Hey, I was thinking... how about we go on an actual date tonight instead of jumping straight into the hookup?"
I was taken aback. A date? I couldn’t remember the last time I went on a no-kidding date. Usually, the hot bottoms Ali’s age didn’t give my old body that kind of chance. I was more just a fun older fantasy for them—a quick, no-strings-attached daddy thrill.
"An actual date?" I repeated, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.
I hesitated for a moment, processing the words before saying, "Sure, why not? I’d like that."
We went downtown to a movie theater and watched the latest superhero movie. The place was packed, but we managed to get good seats near the back. About halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet moment, Ali reached over and gently took my hand in his. I glanced over at him, and he gave me a shy smile. Sure we had already fucked, but something about the innocence of the gesture made my heart race.
Later, as the movie progressed, I decided to make a move of my own. I shifted my hand from his and placed it on his muscular thigh, rubbing it up and down. My large hand practically swallowed his thigh, making it look small in comparison. Ali turned to me and grinned, biting his lip.
When the credits rolled and the lights came up, we both stood and stretched, exchanging amused looks as we mimicked the superhero poses we’d just seen on screen. Damn that tank top left nothing to be desired as he flexed his biceps for me.
As we walked back to his place, we joked the whole way there.
"Damn, you're really funny," I said, nudging him playfully with my elbow.
"Thanks," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "I try."
When we reached his apartment building, I turned to him, feeling a bit reluctant to end the night. "I had a really nice time tonight. I really want to do this again sometime."
"Oh yeah, me too," Ali said with a grin. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "But we aren't done yet." He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him up to his apartment.
I felt a thrill of excitement as I followed him inside. His apartment was cozy and stylish, and filled with cool travel memorabilia.
"So, what now?" I asked, leaning in closer.
Ali smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, we could start by picking up where we left off in the theater."
I didn’t need any more encouragement. I leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
We have a seat on the couch, and Ali wastes no time straddling me. I grab both sides of his waist, guiding him as he grinds on me through our clothes. The friction is intoxicating, and I can feel my dick getting hard, pressing insistently against my jeans.
Ali's hands are all over my pecs, exploring the firm muscles beneath my shirt. "Take it off," he whispers, lifting the fabric and tossing it aside. "Flex for me."
I oblige quickly, flexing my chest muscles, watching his eyes light up with desire. He leans in, moving to the side to lick my hairy pits. He moans, "God, you smell so good."
I grab the back of his head, holding him there with a firm but reassuring grip. The sensation of his tongue against my skin is electric, sending shivers down my spine. Eventually, he lifts his head, his eyes glazed with lust. He stands up, strips down in front of me, and straddles my waist again. This time, he’s naked, and he starts rubbing his hard cock between my pecs.
The feel of his smooth skin and the sight of his cock sliding between my pecs almost makes me lose control right then and there. I’m already on the edge, and I haven’t even entered him yet.
Ali takes off my pants, his fingers grazing my thighs as he pulls them down. He positions himself over my cock, looking down at me with a mix of anticipation and desire.
"You ready, cutie?" I ask, my voice low and husky.
"Yes, sir," he replies, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Good boy," I tell him as he slowly starts to sit, taking in all of my manhood. The tightness and heat around my cock are almost too much to bear. He moves at his own pace, adjusting to my size, and I can see the concentration and pleasure on his face.
He finally settles down completely, and we both let out a groan of satisfaction. I grip his hips firmly, guiding his movements as he starts to ride me. The rhythm builds slowly at first, then faster, more urgent.
"Fuck, you feel so good," I murmur, my hands roaming over his body, caressing his skin.
Ali's hands are braced on my chest, his fingers digging into my muscles as he rides me. "You too, sir," he gasps, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Soooooo fucking good."
I thrust up into him, meeting his movements with powerful strokes. The intensity of the connection between us is overwhelming, and I know I won’t last much longer.
"Come for me," I urge him, my voice rough with need. "Come on, boy."
With a cry, Ali's body tenses, and he spills his load over my chest. The sight and feel of him coming is enough to push me over the edge, and I climax inside him, filling him with everything I’ve got.
We collapse together on the couch, breathing hard and spent. Ali rests his head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
"That was amazing," he says after a moment, his voice soft and content.
"Yeah, it was," I agree, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You were incredible."
He looks up at me with a smile. "So, when can we do this again?"
"Anytime you want," I reply, feeling a rush of happiness. "Anytime you want."
To be continued…
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Lighter: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader
"Want a drink, pretty girl?" The strange drunk man wrapped his arm around you. "No, thank you." He shrugged. "More for me!" He yelled making you laugh. A tall man with blue eyes catching your view. You turned away. "Hey, I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette." You whispered to your friend. You left the room, walking onto the balcony. You took a cigarette from your box, placing the cigarette between your lips. You took out the silver lighter, his name engraved on the base. You lit the cigarette, looking behind you when the balcony door opened.
He didn't say anything for a long while, neither did you. Uncomfortable silence settling between you. "When did you start smoking?" He asked. "Want me to be honest?" You asked turning your gaze to him. He nodded. "The night you died."
"I'm sorry, Y/n. I was just angry-"
"At me?" You asked. "No, Y/n, never at you." He said, you flickered the cigarette off the balcony. You turned your whole body to him. He did the same. You were holding back tears. "I missed you, Jason, so much. I couldn't move on for 6 years. I tried believe me, it's just they couldn't- they weren't you." He didn't say anything, what could he possibly say. "You've been back for a long time now, Jason and you didn't even visit me. Even as Redhood a visit woulda been nice. Just a conversation, a hello. I was so empty without you, Jay." He stayed quiet, he didn't know what to say, he prepared himself for anger, not this absolutely heart breaking conversation. "I spent everyday talking to you thinking you were dead. It was like a whole in my heart was opened and nothing I did could fill that whole."
He just stood there listening. "I tried everything to try to forget us. The thought of moving on hurt me. You destroyed me, Jason. Broke me. I used to happy, I used to be nice, I used to be welcoming. I loved you." Loved. "Fuck!" He watched you push away tears that fell from eyes. Mascara smudged against your fist.
"You don't understand the kind of pain you put me through. How pathetic I looked buying your cologne so I could spray it on my pillow just so I could sleep at night. How pathetic I look when I cried to Dick when they stopped making that brand. How pathetic I looked at your funeral when Bruce and Dick had to hold me back from jumping off a fucking building so I could be with you. How pathetic I looked when my fingers were knuckle deep in my pussy and I bursted out crying when I came because it wasn't you who made me finish. Oh and don't get me started on how I pathetic I looked when moaned your name out while this guy was fucking me. How pathetic I looked when I apologize to him and he told me, quote "I know.", he knew because our whole date I spoke about my dead ex that I was completely smitten with. He told me to heal before dating. That was four years ago! I haven't felt the intimate touch of anyone in four years." Jason took a step towards you, wrapping his arms around causing you to immediately attempt to get out of his grip. You kicked and squirmed, balled up fists hitting his chest.
"FUCK! LET GO OF ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" A tear ran down his face, feeling you calm down sobbing against his chest. "I hate you... so much." He knew you didn't, you were just angry.
You felt him press a kiss on your forehead, before resting his head atop yours. "I'm sorry." That's all he had to say? Did he really think that was he needed to say for you to forgive him? "It's not that easy, Jay."
"I know but it's a start." A start. "I missed you, Y/n. I love you so much." You didn't say anything back, instead wrapping your arms around him. "I'll do anything to earn the privilege of hearing you say it back." You chuckled. "You're so fucking cheesy."
A warm silence fell between you. "Hey, Jason?" You whispered breaking the silence. "Yeah?" He answered face buried in your hair. "I still have the lighter you gave me." You didn't know if he heard you cause he didn't respond. "Keep it. I got a better one." He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, handing it to you. You took the lighter from his hand. Your name engraved in the gold made you smile. "You don't know how bad you ruined other men for me." He lifted his head looking down at you, makeup ruined, eyes puffy, cheeks red. You leaned up, pressing a short soft kiss on his lips. "That was too sweet." He muttered. "Earn the right to get spicier kisses."
"Oh, I will."
#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd scenarios#jason todd#jason todd x reader#red hood#jason todd angst#Jason todd x reader angst#timmyyyturner
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more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)
a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!
i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys
cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)
Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.
Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.
Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.
"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?
"...We've been dating for a month."
"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”
When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...
He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.
"Stay close to me, please."
"I don't plan on moving."
"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.
Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.
Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.
Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.
He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.
Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.
Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.
Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.
Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.
Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.
Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.
Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.
He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"
When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.
He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.
Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.
He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.
He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.
Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.
He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...
And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.
Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.
"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."
"No, you're sick, Kento."
"That doesn't matter." He frowns.
“You always take care of me anyway.”
“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”
and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns
If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.
Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.
...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.
Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.
That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.
"My love, doing so well for me."
"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."
“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”
“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”
“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.
that made me cringe
help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry
His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.
As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.
Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)
He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.
He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.
"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."
"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”
Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is—he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.
His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.
He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.
Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.
Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.
Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.
"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."
“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”
"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."
cringes again
Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.
Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.
Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.
Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.
In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.
He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.
Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.
Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.
“Look at it, it’s funny.”
“...lol”
“You laughed at least a little bit right?
“...No?”
“Okay. I apologize :(“
LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.
When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.
“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”
"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."
And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.
Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.
He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.
"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.
Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.
Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.
Yup feral.
Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.
Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.
Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.
“This sucks.”
“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”
“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.
Please show him the love and care he deserves.
When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.
Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.
Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…
I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.
This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.
If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.
When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.
Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.
Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.
“What was that for?”
"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."
Butterflies all around people.
His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.
Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.
When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.
“Someone’s tired.”
“I hate overtime.”
“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”
“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”
“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”
“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.
He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.
As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.
“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”
yup heart attack
Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.
Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.
Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,
"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."
i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB
#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento x you#kento nanami headcanons#nanami kento headcanons#nanami x you#nanami headcanons#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#i love him#i'm obsessed#i need him#please nanami#nanami fluff#my current hyperfixation#please nanami i love you#my boyfriend#my beloved#kento nanami x you#marry me nanami#i wish he was real#FAWK
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costumes / looks I desperately need gerard way to wear on stage (add your own in reblogs!!)
greek statue, he’s fully painted white including his hair with a white toga with a golden wreath thing on his head. I just think that would look sick
police uniform covered in blood
straight up zombie with full on green decaying gory make up
one of the heathers from heathers
either the blue cheerleader outfit from the i’m not okay mv or the iconic red ones from teenagers. then we’d have a little trio!
ghostface. possibly cunty ghostface as a treat
vanya from umbrella academy - young version with the school girl fit and black mask OR the all white comic version of course
also number five from umbrella academy (classic school boy fit)
this sounds weird but I think this would be really cool and meta for wwwy - a stereotypical mcr fan / emo. as in with that one black parade t shirt, heavy eyeliner, black nails, side swept emo fringe, studded bracelets and belts, skinny black jeans, vans or converse. again a very meta concept, after their old person looks in 2022 I can really see them doing this as a whole band this year and I would loooove to finally see gerard in the fashion style that’s so associated with him and his music
howl from howl’s moving castle
possibly also sophie from howl’s moving castle
slenderman
literally just satan. like the most stereotypical devil, give them fully painted red skin, horns, fangs, yellow or black eyes, maybe even goat legs. probably with a majestic black suit or something, or for a succubus vibe a black flowy dress with a slit down the leg. now that I think about it, this would be a SICK wwwy look to shock us all, esp if ray mikey and frank all dressed as other demons or the souls of the damned or some shit.
peni parker - he made her!!
question mark jumper from doctor who
also missy from doctor who omg
jane doe from ride the cyclone, possibly with added marionette or cracked porcelain makeup like in some renditions
classic majestic white-robed angel, with enormous fake wings and maybe even sparkly gold makeup and a big gold halo. also would be cool in all black, or all white but covered in blood (red, gold, or black, all would look cool)
buffy summers in prophecy girl, except he also has blood all over his neck from where the master bit her. I hope he’s watched btvs I think he would very much enjoy it this look would fit with their vampire vibe sooooo well
classic frankenstein’s monster
mothman. not only is he a heartthrob but he’s also a hunched goblin cryptid to me. the duality of man (he/theys)
jane prentiss from the magnus archives. if you don’t know she is a living flesh hive of sentient worms, she’s decaying and full of holes. again with all the nasty decaying rotting prosthetic makeup plus THE RED DRESS!!!
mr darcy vibes, sopping wet regency man with a big puffy white t shirt
opposite side of that, fuck it give him a full on ballroom gown
henry creel from stranger things (pre-vecna, nurse outfit)
any disney princess
crowley from good omens. my man looks GOOD in those anthony janthony aah sunglasses he has
cute flowy summer dress with like a flowery pattern. either go cottagecore with it and have flowers in his hair, or go full white soccer mum and put him in huge cunty sunglasses a massive straw sun hat with a ribbon on it
all-black cowboy!!!! the fact I’ve never seen him in a cowboy hat is actual sacrilege. also would very much appreciate an all-pink sequin studded cowboy
any alice in wonderland character, especially alice herself, the classic disney movie look with the blue dress and the bow in the hair. he would also do a great chesire cat (spooky big grin makeup paired with his weird ass dramatic facial expressions?? inspired) or a super extravagant queen / king / knave of hearts. also 100000% the mad hatter omfg, he was BORN to do a jefferson from once upon a time look!!
#he can just pull anything off#and so many things are just his VIBE like jane prentiss’s whole look and concept is SUCH a swarm tour gerard look like are you kidding me??#gerard way#gee way#my chem#my chemical romance#my chemical fucking romance#mcr#swarm tour#dear god I have too much free time on my hands I think about this more than is necessary or maybe even possible
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with me + part one
authors note: well, i got some type of writers block working on two other RR wip's so opened a new google doc and ended up with this. prob gonna be 3 parts, maybe 4. there's an almost five year time jump after this one, can you guess why? also, joe's wife is an oc, not galina.
first time posting my roman writings on here and trying not to freak out tbh
warnings: angst, infidelity, language, suggestive content
song inspo: with me by destiny's child
word count: 4,000
You know that assignment everyone at some point in their education where they research what they want to be when they grow up and share it with the whole class for a grade? Yeah, that big mammoth of a question that somehow you’re supposed to have confidently answered before even reaching double digits.
That was always super easy for you.
From as far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a teacher. It took until you were in middle school, almost high school for you to settle on an elementary school teacher, college for a specific grade. But, the teaching profession always called to you.
You chalk it up to your grandmother, undoubtedly one of your favorite people in this entire world. She was also an elementary school teacher who taught until she was expectedly called home when you were 14. Some part of you wonders if you’ve never even allowed yourself to entertain any other professions because of her loss. She was your best friend, and following in her footsteps was wanted but also felt somewhat necessary. Like you had to in order to honor her and her legacy.
A couple years into your career, you still think about that, how you’ve known from such a young age what you wanted to do with your life. Well, one part.
In other areas, maybe the most important areas, you were lost as all of the outdoors. Mostly in one area, if you’re being honest, and truthfully, it’s not even what you want in as much as it is how you get there. The path is relatively simple: find a man, fall in love, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.
It’s such a stereotypical trajectory, but one you’ve also envisioned for yourself since your late teens. You’d gotten partying all out of your system during the early college years, somewhat in high school as well. Now in your mid 20s, soon to be late 20s, all you want to do is prepare to eventually settle down. Sooner rather than later.
And the issue isn’t even having no prospects. You have a prospect, he’s just unavailable.
Because he’s already fucking married.
But can you even call him a prospect when that implies there’s some chance? Because there’s zero chance. You know this. You know this very well, too well. So why you still allow him into your bed and inside of you is beyond you. Yes, the sex is out of this world, but you desire more than that. Maybe not at first, but almost three years deep into this arrangement, most definitely.
You still think back to your first meeting.
Your best friend won a contest that not only granted her two front row tickets to a Smackdown show but backstage passes as well. You met so many wrestlers that night, some you grew up watching on TV as the little tomboy that you were as a kid. But, it was one wrestler in particular: tall, muscular, hair more beautiful and silky than any silk press your beautician mother could ever style, that changed your life. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen.
He was attractive, extremely, possibly one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. But, the attraction was short-lived when you spotted the wedding band on his left hand. You’d be lying if you tried to say that was when the attraction sizzled out. It diminished, but it was still there. Still, you didn’t think much of it, that was until you received a call from a number on your phone that you didn't recognize.
Why you even accepted the call is still a mystery. You never answered random calls, yet that one was an exception, an exception that resulted in you having an unexpected phone conversation with Roman fucking Reigns. He explained that he got your number from your friend who’d exchanged contact information with a wrestler she met that night as well. They were messing around too, that much you knew. And good for her. He, unlike Roman, was not married and therefore free to fuck around.
The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, especially given the flirtatious nature it quickly took on. It was wrong, you knew this well, very well. He took vows, but you were also aware of those vows. And heat no point pressured you into anything, you could have cut it off. Flirtatious he was, but forceful he was not.
The conversations increased in frequency and length over a matter of weeks that turned into months, and before you knew it, your day started and ended with either a text or phone call from the wrestler.
A small part of you knew that it would eventually escalate into more, a man like him seemed like he needed more. But, you stupidly tried to tell yourself that when that time came, you would remain strong and draw the line in the sand with just communication. Even if it was just as wrong as anything else.
It was a silly thought.
Your resolve was weak.
You absolutely did not need to accept his invitation to fly you out to one of his shows, and you damn sure didn’t need to allow him to take you back to his hotel where your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you—among other things—until the early hours of the morning.
The days after that were rough. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself. It was one thing to flirt with a married man, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck a married man. He wasn’t yours. He belonged to someone else. He had a life with some other woman. You had no right to insert yourself into that union, so you decided to sever contact with him, deleting his number from your phone and shoving the experience in the ‘biggest regret of your life’ box with no intention of reopening it.
Unfortunately for you, Roman, Joe, as he asked you to call him, was a persistent bastard.
You ignored his texts, so he called. You ignored his calls, so he texted. You ignored both, and this motherfucker showed up at your goddamn door. There were multiple times you could have and should have ended things, that being another perfect opportunity. If you told him to leave that night, not allowed him into your apartment, he would have listened. He was stubborn and resolute but also respectful. If you told him to leave, really told him, he would have done so.
But, you didn’t. You allowed him into your place and similar to the last time you were in his presence, ended up spread out on your bed with him balls deep inside you until you couldn’t feel your lower half.
Now, fast forward three years later, not much has changed. You two don’t communicate quite as much in the day, and his visits are more spread out given the company’s current efforts at pushing him as the new face of the company. But, that doesn’t stop his visits to come see you and flights he puts you on to come see him, both of which always end with him leaving your legs jelly and throat raw.
All the while his wife sits at home unaware of her husband’s consistent residence between your legs.
The thought alone makes you sick, revolted at yourself, at how you’ve allowed yourself to reach this point in life. Closer to 30 than 20 and going on 3 years of being a mistress to a married man, a man who can never give you the future you want yet refuse to let go.
Not that you’d ever allow yourself to really acknowledge why.
That’s….that’s just too much.
________
Pillow talk was just something that naturally happened between the two of you. It made sense given that your relationship started out with just talking. He seemed interested in knowing more about you, about your likes and dislikes. He shared his as well. You weren’t beyond admitting that Joe was insanely easy to talk to, the flow of conversation always natural, never forced. There never seemed to be a dry spot between you two.
And whether it was an innate ability to pick up on the emotions of others or just his, you could always tell when something was bothering him, could see when he came to you with a burden he didn’t want to discuss.
Not that that stopped you from asking. If he declined to talk about it, you respected it, didn’t push. But, more often than not, he would end up sharing things with you, mostly concerns regarding his career.
It seemed he visioned one thing for himself, while Vince McMahon saw another. He felt frustrated at times, especially when the fanbase started pushing back more. He never admitted as such, but you could see it hurt his feelings. How could it not? Kayfabe or not, Joe was still a real person with real feelings, regardless of the role he played.
And at some point, his visits to see you stopped always involving sex. That happened majority of the time, but there were occasions when he just seemed like he needed someone to be around, a distraction, someone to talk to.
Someone like you.
“Come on.” You jumped up off the couch and offered your hand that he looked at with disinterest. “Don’t make me drag your big ass. It’ll probably break my back.” He lifts his brow, and you roll your eyes. “Joe, come onnnn.”
“Where are we going?” He finally asks, all the while sighing heavily and standing up. Though unnecessary at this point, he still takes your hand. You try not to think too much of the gentle squeeze he gives.
“To my kitchen.”
Glancing over, he gestures with his thumb. “The place that’s like 3 feet away.”
You suck your teeth and shove against him. “Don’t be an ass. We’re gonna bake cookies.”
“Bake?”
“That’s what I said.” Though clearly skeptical, he follows you into the kitchen and watches as you start gathering supplies. “I spent a lot of summers with my grandma, and whenever either of us were having a bad day, she’d take us into the kitchen and we’d bake chocolate chip cookies. She’d always say there’s nothing a good chocolate morsel can’t cure.”
Reflecting on those memories, so fond and cherished, brings a despondent smile to your face.
His eyes fall on you, sensing the sudden sadness. “You miss her.”
“Every day….” Shaking your head, you make a conscious effort to not make this about you and your grief. “Now, we need music.” You settle on some random “cookout” playlist that aids in setting the playful mood. To your surprise, yet not surprise, Joe keeps up without struggle. He's a fast learner, easily following along to your detailed instructions and explanations. Things get messy at times, as one does when baking, but it only causes the two of you to share laughter. Especially when you ‘accidentally’ get flour on each other. For you, it was an accident. His was definitely intentional.
Still, between the laughter, light conversation, and New Edition serving as backdrop, it’s a sweet moment.
“And now we wait,” you announce, plopping down on the sofa. “Wrestler by day, baker by night. Who’d a thunk it?”
He chuckles. “I never knew you could cook.”
At that, you nearly choke on the water bottle you’d grabbed off the coffee table. “Me? Cook? No. Not at all. There’s a reason every thanksgiving, my family only asks me to bring the drinks. My mom is the cook. Grandma was the baker. I can make cookies and a few select items. That’s it.”
You can still hear your grandma’s voice in the back of your head, chiding you for never allowing your mom to teach you how to cook. It just never garnered your interest, even when they swore up and down you’d never find a husband without knowing how.
Maybe they were right.
He joins you in the living room, settling on the other end of the sofa. “Maybe I could teach you then.”
His words—and offer—suprise you. “You can cook?”
“Don’t look so surprised.” He rolls his blue eyes. Some days you love the contacts, others you hate them. Today is a love day. They make his beauty even more exquisite. “Because of the big age difference between me and my siblings, it was just me and my mom a lot of times. They were either out and about or had either moved out. She’d ask me to help her out in the kitchen, and I picked up on a couple things.”
“You’re a fast learner.” That much is very obvious, in several areas of his life. “Was it ever hard? Like, not really having them around?”
He seems to think about her question before answering. “Yes and no. The twins moved to Florida when I was like three, and we became close instantly. It was like suddenly having two new brothers. Obviously, they didn’t live with us, so they weren’t always around, and those times were hard, I guess. But the older we got, the more we did together.”
The Usos. Also wrestlers trying to make names for themselves. He really does hail from a legendary dynasty. “I get that. It was just me and my mom, and she worked a lot to support us, so that’s why I spent so much time with my grandma. And I loved it, but sometimes it got lonely not really having siblings.” You look over at him, studying this massive specimen of a man who seems so unsure of himself right now, unsure of his future. He’d hinted at such during their prep, but you bookmarked the comment to revisit. “It’s all gonna work out, you know.”
His gaze is on you, partially disinterested, mostly in disagreement. Joe knows what you're referring to. He chuckles, darkly, “you sound sure.”
“I am,” you counter calmly. Moving to sit on your knees, you continue, “no matter what it takes, you make them respect you. You can do it, and when you finally find your footing, you’ll be one of the best to ever do it. Mark my words.”
You’ve never been one to build up false hopes in anyone, far too familiar with the sting of disappointment. So every word leaving your mouth drips with sincerity. Joe is so much more than a “pretty face” or someone who got lucky by being born into a wrestling dynasty with a golden spoon in his mouth. He’s worked his ass off, you see how he works his ass off, so the last thing you’d want to witness is him become his own worst enemy by getting too into his head.
“You’ll see. They boo now, but pretty soon they’ll be cheering.” Moving to your knees, you lift your arms in a theatrical display. “Roman, Roman, Roman.” You yelp when his strong arms pull you into his lap, legs spread on either side of his thick thighs. “Would you let me hype you up? Like, damn.”
His smile, so beautiful and genuine, warms your soul. His spirits are lifted, and that’s all that matters. Joe’s hands are on your hips, palms massaging you through your shorts. You move your arms around his neck, resting on his strong shoulders “Thank you.”
It’s at this moment, you foolishly allow yourself to wonder. Wonder what it would be like for this to be the norm, for him to always return to your place when he has time off or in between shows. Wonder what it would be like to consistently be this safe space for him, to be in his corner and not just in the shadows, but in the light. To be supporting him ringside. To be his.
And for a second, you pretend. You pretend that you are his, and he’s yours. That this is your man, and you’re his girl. Just the two of you. Nobody else.
But the comedown from that is devastating, like a boulder sitting on your chest, a butcher knife to your heart. Because he isn’t yours. He never was, and he never will be.
Mood sullen, you lower your arms to separate yourself. “I should…” You clear your throat, climbing off of him. The air is suddenly too stuffy, the room too small. You need space. “I should go check on the cookies.”
Joe’s not stupid, far from it. You know that he has to pick up on your 180 in mood, yet he doesn’t pursue you, doesn’t ask questions, and you’re thankful for that. You need to not be around him right now, not so close, not so connected, not so in love.
You need to let him go.
________
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Joe’s in the midst of sliding his shirt over his head, sitting on the edge of the bed when your voice, low and quiet, stops him mid movement. “What?”
“I said.” You blow out a big breath, unsure why your chest suddenly feels so heavy. “I can’t do this anymore.”
At that, he angles his body so that he can look at you, assess your face. He’s a big eye contact person. “What are you talking about?”
Irritation piques. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joe.” Gesturing between the two of you, you kick the blankets off and quickly reach for your t-shirt that got discarded last night. Being naked in front of him suddenly feels uncomfortable. “This. It’s done.”
He pauses for a second and then shakes his head, resuming his dressing. “Okay.”
His tone is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he thinks you’re playing around. Of course he would be in one of those moods, where he’s more irritable, less receptive and fucking stubborn. “I’m serious.”
“I’m not doing this shit with you right now.” Joe gets up and continues dressing himself, prompting you to climb out of bed and move in front of him.
He can’t avoid his way out of this. You won’t allow it. It’s time to finally rip the bandaid off.
You’ve sat on this for the last two weeks, since he last left your apartment and you realized you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall for this man. Fall for a man who walks around with a wedding ring on his left hand, who’s always had that wedding ring from the moment you met him. You’re not upset with him, not as much as you’re upset with yourself.
You grew up the product of an affair, felt the stinging pain of being rejected by a parent whose selfishness resulted in the creation of life, a life he wanted no part of. Seen how your mom literally begged your piece of shit father to be in your life, to play some role. Heard how he cruelly rejected her, rejected you, calling you your mother’s bastard. A mistake.
It devastated you so deeply that you still can’t really talk about it without getting emotional.
And yet, you idiotically found yourself playing the same role you used to judge your mother for: the other woman.
It’s a role you stepped in, and one you must now step out of.
“There’s nothing to do.” You run your hands over your face and shake your head. Choosing to have this conversation at almost 4 o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best move, but you also know that if you give yourself more time, you’ll find a reason not to do it. And you need to do this. “You have a wife, Joe. A whole ass woman who loves you and would probably let you fuck her just as much as you like to fuck me. Go be with her, and if not her, find someone else, cause I won’t be that for you. Not anymore.”
You’re not exactly sure what part of what you just said registered with him, but it’s obvious something did by the change of tone he takes. “Where is this coming from?”
“It’s coming from where it should have come a long time ago,” you answer, crossing your arms over your body. “This was never right, and I refuse to partake in it anymore. I won’t be your whore anymore.”
You didn’t expect hurt to flash in his beautiful eyes nor for him to move closer to you, that hurt intensifying when you back away. He can’t touch you. You can’t allow that, because all it takes is only touch, one longing gaze, and you’ll be putty in his hands. This has to end. “Is that really what you think you are to me?”
“I don’t know what I am to you, Joe,” you answer, honestly. It’s something you’ve battled back and forth with for nearly three years. Just what is it about you that keeps him coming back, keeps him in your bedroom, inside of you. At face value, it’s the sexual compatibility between you. Below the surface level though, there’s maybe more. You’ve never allowed yourself to venture there, and you’re certainly not about to right now. You know how you feel about him, but you refuse to really ask yourself how he feels about you. “And truthfully, it doesn’t matter, cause it doesn’t change anything.”
“So, that’s just it?” His voice is wounded, handsome face painted into a mixture of scowl and a frown. “Almost three years, and you want to throw it all away, for what?”
“For what…..Joe, you are married. You have a whole wife at home. Whatever issues you have that cause you to step out, work that shit out. Learn how to be with her. Cause I’m not doing it any more. I—I can’t.” Emotion imbues your voice toward the end, and you hate that shit. You don’t want him to see, to know, how much this has been eating you up as of lately. “I’m gonna be 30 in a few years. I want to be married. I want to have a family. I deserve that, and I’ll never have it as long as I’m messing with you, so I’ve gotta let you go.” You swallow the deep lump in the back of your throat. “And you’ve gotta let me go.”
This time, this time you can see the part that wounds him, that digs into his chest. You’ve gotta let me go.
Joe is fast, fast enough to move directly in front of you, large hands holding your face. He says your name, desperate almost. “Tell me what to do, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just….” He stops, and you close your eyes, refusing to see if it’s his own emotions coming up. You can barely handle your own cascade of feelings right now and refuse to take on his. “I can’t lose you.”
What you want…..
What you want is for him to never leave. What you want is for him to stay with you, to be with you. What you want is for him to have never met Jadah, never married her, never committed his life to her.
What you want is for him to be yours and only yours, but what you want….is also what you can never have.
“I—I want you to leave, Joe.” The words burn your lips, scorch your throat, ache your soul. “And this time….don’t come back.”
You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to see the result of your heartbreaking, even if honest request. It’s because you know seeing him hurt will only cause your resolve to crumble, and you can’t have that. You have to be strong, have to be the woman your mother couldn't.
So, you remain there, remain silent as he steps away from you, his touch vanishing. There’s such an emptiness in his wake.
It’s only when you hear the front door of your apartment shut that you finally feel it, the caving of your stomach, the heavy lump move from the back of your throat, the release of the loud sob you didn’t realize you’d been keeping at bay.
It’s when you finally allow yourself to feel all of the emotions of a woman who just told the only man she’s ever loved to leave.
If only you knew his departure was just the beginning of the rest of your life.
#roman reigns x black!oc#roman reigns x black!reader#black writers#wwe#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns fic#arisnotebook
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