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aenaxes · 3 years

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dream perfect

[howzer x afab!reader] you can't sleep. and if you can't sleep, neither can howzer.

warnings: nsfw, cunnilingus, fingering

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: lol this was supposed to be a warm up exercise for the request prompts in the queue but i got carried away :/ anyways i think i need to write a pt.2 hehe

You like to think you’ve been running the motions of a pretty convincing stillness. Waiting a few minutes in between each turn from your back to your side and back again, you squirm under the anchoring weight of Howzer’s arm draped over your hip.

It’s going to be another long night.

And yet, for all your strategic shifting and careful restlessness, a few minutes shy of the hour, Howzer’s breathing stutters, and he stirs around you.

“Mn, cyare?” he mumbles, tongue heavy with sleep. “Y’still awake?”

Guilt, queasy and cold, creeps up your throat. The perpetual vigilance of active duty left behind, leave days replace that sharp attention with something heavy and warm that settles around Howzer’s shoulders and keeps him asleep through even the most resonant of storms. That your slight movements have apparently awoken him where thunder would not warms the apples of your cheeks in something equal parts concerning and embarrassing.

“It’s fine,” you respond weakly. “Can’t sleep is all.”

“Can’t sleep?” Howzer repeats past a groan as he shifts onto his side to face you. In the low neon lights of the Coruscant night, you can make out the ease of his features, his frown more of a boyish pout that carries with it a gentle insistence, concern. His fingers squeeze over the soft slope of your waist, and he yawns. “That’s no good.”

“It’s alright,” you say, and you punctuate your low murmur with a quick peck over the corner of his mouth. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Not without you,” he huffs in response. He takes the moment to shuffle closer, closing what little space lies between you to press close against your chest and bring his arms around your shoulders. You feel the tip of his nose press just above your hairline, and when he speaks again, his voice rumbles low and warm over your head. “What can I do, mesh’la? Tell me how I can help.”

“I’ve tried just about everything; I’m not sure there’s anything else left to do except to wait it out,” you sigh into his collar. With an insistent wiggle of your shoulders, you pull away just enough to meet his puppy-eyed consternation, soft with sleep and softer still as you bring your fingertips to the sharp lines of his jaw and offer him a lopsided smile.

For a moment, Howzer seems to take your defeat at face value, his expression deflating. Then, he makes a low noise that crinkles over the bridge of his nose and settles on the smile teased over his lips.

“I have an idea.”

Even with sleeplessness taunting you through the gaps in the blinds, you can’t help but laugh, leaning forward to gently nudge your forehead up against Howzer’s cheek. You know that look by heart, that coy glimmer finding home in his dark eyes as he pretends to fight his growing grin.

“Howzer, really, I’m fine,” you say, reaching up and stroking over his dark curls. “Go back to sleep. Besides, I’m off tomorrow.”

“We’re both off, cyare,” Howzer chuckles.

From under the covers, you feel him slide his hand from where it rests between your shoulders, battle-weary callouses no less warm as they drag over your form. He pauses where the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your shorts part, rubbing gentle motions into the exposed skin, comforting, grounding, seeking invitation.

You shiver under his touch. Anticipatory delight shocks up your spine.

“Let me help,” he implores.

“Okay.”

The last breath barely has enough time to pass through your lips before Howzer’s rising to his knees and pushing the pillowy duvet somewhere off to the side of the bed. There’s the careful composure of propping your head up against a second pillow and lifting your hips to tug your shorts down past your ankles. But rife through his gentle deliberation—tension, need, finds home in his posture as he squares his shoulders, plants his palms on your knees, and pushes your thighs open.

Your breath hitches as cool air rushes between your thighs. First instinct has always demanded a shy squeak, your hands itching to cover yourself as you lie spread open before him in the low light.

But you know better.

When Howzer’s shoulders drop with a quivering sigh, when his eyes flutter shut and open again with that precious disbelief that this was real, that this—that you were his, bashful chastity withers in the face of desire.

“So pretty,” Howzer breathes low, almost as if to himself, and swallows hard enough that you hear from the crown of the bed. A moment longer, he stares transfixed, then looks up to you with nothing short of a plea glittering in his eyes. “Please. Let me help.”

“Want you,” you whimper. “Howzer, I—”

Your voice cracks, reduced to a choked cry that swallows the rest of your words when, as soon as your assent reaches his ears, Howzer dips low, pressing a brief kiss to your clit before he drags the flat of his tongue from the fullest swell of your cunt and back up to press another kiss at the crown of your thighs.

“Good?” Howzer asks, his breaths puffing warm over the slick of his spit smeared over your throbbing cunt. No matter how many times you do this, you can’t seem to shake that delicious tremble as you feel the air between his lips and your cunt practically vibrate under his voice.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble.

He responds by wrapping his lips over your clit, coaxing another stuttering moan from your tongue. But it’s not enough, with him it never is, and your hips buck up as he brings the calloused pad of his forefinger just under his chin, sliding it through your cunt. It only makes the growing core of want burn hotter when you feel his rumbling laughter shock through your skin.

Your eyes fly open at the first gentle push of his thick finger into your cunt, sinking into you with almost embarrassing ease. When his palm pushes up against your skin, he crooks his finger up, grinding up against the soft bundle of nerves that has you sobbing his name. Howzer only takes your soft noises as encouragement. He seals his lips over your skin and laps at your clit with a renewed vigor.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull his soaked finger from your cunt and push back in with a second. He finds a rhythm as soon as he fucks as deep as he can go, sucking over your clit while he curls the rough pads of his fingertips over the spot that makes your vision white out again and again.

Howzer sinks his fingers knuckle-deep, but instead of pulling back, the satisfying burn of stretch sears through your core as Howzer parts you open and lifts off of your clit with an almost comically wet sound. You know exactly what he’s going to do, but it makes it no less thrilling when his nose brushes over your clit, and he fucks the firm taper of his tongue between his fingers.

You arch off the bed with a wanton cry, barely coherent enough to understand the crooning words of praise Howzer slips in between fucking his tongue into your cunt and taking gasping breaths of air. You cry out again, and he moans into your cunt with you.

You feel blindly for him, and Howzer knows, he knows. He grabs your wrist and fumbles as he pulls his tongue from your cunt and continues to pump his fingers into you. Finally, the burning coil of desire cresting higher, higher in your gut, he finds purchase and slides his fingers between yours. You squeeze once, he squeezes back, and you moan as his tongue laps over your clit again.

He opts for a maddeningly fast pace, alternating between pressing his tongue deep as it can go into your cunt and rolling it over your clit. All the while, he keeps an unrelenting rhythm with his fingers, pulling you apart artful stroke by artful stroke as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

He drinks you in like a man parched, head bobbing with each heaving swallow. His arm is your only anchor as you squirm under its weight and desperately grind back against his tongue. It’s toeing the line of overstimulation fucked dumb. And it’s all you could ever want as his tongue presses deep, as deep as it’s gone all night, and pushes you over the edge.

You come over his tongue with a shuddering cry, neighbors be damned, and squeeze your hand down hard over his. He squeezes back, groaning into your cunt, telling, promising, he’s here, he’s here, for you, for you as pleasure closes around you and swallows you whole.

At last, after a brief eternity of the kind of bliss that drives bone deep, Howzer pulls away, pressing one last kiss to your clit before pulling back and breathing in long and deep between your quivering legs.

He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips warm, wet as they mouth silent appreciation into your skin. (They are words you do not think you will ever truly know, the ancient poetry of the warriors who came before him, but they reach you deep to your core.) When his lips still, and his eyes flutter open, Howzer lifts his chin just enough to meet your gaze.

“Think you can sleep now?”

As much as you want to laugh (because what kind of question was that with your heart beating loud enough for him to hear?), you’re too winded to do anything else but shake your head.

“Good,” Howzer laughs, running his tongue over the slick smeared over his fingers. The fluorescent brilliance of the Coruscant nightlife filters through your window, glimmering obscene over the mess of your arousal and his spit as he parts his lips and sucks them clean.

Your mouth waters.

Sugar sweet desire breaks over your tongue, though you might more aptly call it greed—in want of tasting yourself on him; in want of feeling his fingers dig into your skin when he pulls you close and licks over your teeth; in want of bending you, breaking you, then pulling you back together again, gilded kintsugi lacquered strong by a soldier’s hands.

Howzer pulls his fingers from his mouth with a loud pop and flicks his eyes to yours as you peer up at him through lidded eyes. Half-closed they may be, but they are far from heavy with the sleepy taunts of before.

You both know sleep is the last thing on either of your minds.

Rising up to his knees, he twists out of his shirt and flings it off somewhere into the far reaches of the room. One moment he’s standing tall at the base of the bed, the next, he’s leaning close and sliding one palm from where your thighs part up to where he kisses over your neck.

You whimper softly as you feel his fingers curl over your pulse, helpless in the best of ways as Howzer pulls back to sit back and admire your expression. In return, he offers you the smile you’ve come to love most, barely there on his lips, brimming in his eyes, adoration divine.

Then, soon in its place, always: hunger.

“I’m not done with you just yet.”

#howzer says itadakimasu 🙏#also if u know the inspo for the title i am offering my hand in marriage immediately #howzer gives the best head in the gar and that’s it! no one else beats this mans head game #u thought fives was good? he learnt from howzer baby!#learnt? learned? idk man #anyways when will yaeji write ns//fw without being poetic? the answer is never #howzer x reader #captain howzer x reader #the clone wars x reader #yaej.writes

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yikeslads · 4 years

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A Relaxing Evening - Yandere Sero Hanta x Reader

Trigger Warnings! - 18+ only. Non Con (sex and non con drug use). If this bothers you p l e a s e do not read this fic! You are responsible for your own consumption and this is your official warning. Also they smoke a lot of weed in this but I don’t think that really needs a warning but idk

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Long time no see (please don’t kill me, I’ve been hella busy). I’ve started my last year at university so I am super thrilled about that, just turned 21, and I have spent my entire summer working full time. But enough about me, I’m sure everyone is dealing with a ton with the pandemic plus whatever they have. Anyways, I will be doing my best to update more! I have a WIP that should be released soon (i only have like 400 words left) so that should be fun.

Big big big big thanks to @yanderart ! If you don’t know recognize the name, she is a phenomenal artist (both in visual and literary works, an icon) who shares the yandere/dark love. Thank you SO much for your super helpful edits/comments/encouragement with this <3

Also thanks to @opheliadawnwalker3 for the advice to start small when getting back into the writing game! I took that to heart and tried to keep it shorter this time and helped me get this out so thank you!

And thanks to @rat-suki @weebsinstash @drxwsyni because I have definitely binged all of y’alls content and used the immaculate yandere vibes you write as inspo so thank you <3

Now let’s get started!

It was eerily silent in the hallway as your feet made their way to their destination through the mostly abandoned college dormitory. Your mind was so preoccupied with the many thoughts that demanded your attention that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. Not that it mattered. You had made this walk so many times, you could find your way even if you were blindfolded and hammered, that you were allowed to fully slip into your thoughts without having to worry. Before long you were standing in front of a very familiar door, the only one in the hallway with light peaking through the crack at the bottom. Music could clearly be heard through it, Jimi Hendrix’s singing the only sound of human life that you had encountered during your entire walk over here.

It took you a moment to snap out of your thoughts and come back to reality and notice that you were already standing at your destination. Clearing your throat awkwardly at the realization, you raised your arm and knocked solidly on the door to be heard above the music and waited as patiently as you could for an answer.

From behind the door you could hear someone swear, causing a small smirk to rise on your face, along with the sound of some rustling. A few moments later the door cracked open a bit as the familiar raven haired male peaked into the hallway, a bright smile pulling at his lips as he regarded you.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise!” Sero chirped, opening the door all the way, seeing that it was only you standing in the hallway. “What can I do for ya, sunshine?”

His cheery, warm response to your presence unknowingly brought a small smile to your face, a needed break from your tense, concentrated expression you had been wearing when Sero first opened the door.

“Sorry to bother you, Sero,” you began, stuffing your hands into the pockets of the jacket you were wearing to stop you from wringing them anxiously. “I’ve just been really stressed with final exams and choosing which agency I want to officially sign for and… it’s just been a lot.” As you explained, Sero’s face softened slightly as he listened intently to your words, not liking the fact that you were so stressed.

“Anyway,” you continued with a chuckle, bringing yourself back onto the subject, “I was wondering if you had any of your stash left that I could buy from you? I know I bought from you a little while ago, but I’ve been more stressed out than I can handle,” you admitted, hoping that Sero might still have some weed hidden away in his room somewhere that you could use.

It was a little into sophomore year of college that you found out that your classmate, Sero, was a bit of a stoner. And as someone going through the hero course, you are understandably dealing with a lot of stress. So what’s wrong with smoking a little Mary J every once in a while to relax, right? Or at least that’s what you told yourself when you first asked Sero if you could buy weed from him. Ever since then he had been your personal plug, but over time, you two became close friends. “I think you might be in luck, sunshine, I think I have some on reserves. Come on in,” he welcomed, and you crossed the threshold without a second thought. As you stepped inside and took off your shoes, a large but gentle arm carefully looped around your shoulders, gently pulling you into the tall man’s side as you led you to the couch and sat you down on the soft fabric in front of his laptop that was open and had various work assignments in different windows.

“Tell ole Sero what’s troubling you,” Sero propositioned as he moved to his desk, opening a drawer and grabbing his needed paraphernalia as he waited for you to begin speaking. He settled down next to you on the couch, pulling the small table holding the laptop in front of you a little closer as he set down his bong, and pulled out his grinder and began the process of loading you a bowl.

You were about to begin venting, but you paused as you took in the sight of Sero wordlessly working for your benefit, and you pulled your wallet out of your jacket pocket after a few seconds. “Sorry, before I forget, how much do I owe you?” You asked, opening your wallet and beginning to pull out a few bills. You didn’t get far though, as a warm hand covered yours, drawing your eyes to meet his black ones. He gave you a boyish smile and shook his head at you, giving a small laugh. “No way, sunshine. You need a little break, this one is on me,” he offered with a grin. You were hesitant for a few moments, not seemingly convinced that you should let him give you part of his stash for free. The potential feeling of guilt ebbed away as Sero’s warm smile never faltered, kindness seemingly exuding from his every pore. What was the harm, right? Nodding, you gingerly took the loaded bong from his large, calloused hands into your own smaller ones.

“Alright,” you agreed thoughtfully as you mirrored his smile, “but I want you to smoke with me. It’s no fun getting high alone,” you countered to which you could almost see Sero’s eyes sparkle in response at your words.

“I would be happy to,” he assured, never one to miss out on the chance to smoke, especially with you, but you added one more condition.

“And,” you drawled, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited patiently for you to continue. “Whatever food we order when we are stoned off our asses is on me.”

A soft chuckle resonated from Sero’s chest as he nodded along to your stipulation, finding no qualm with having the promise of food.

“Deal,” he agreed, and with that you went to take your first bong hit of the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your sides ached as you tried to force yourself to stop laughing, but your efforts seemed trivial as Sero laughed just as hard, if not harder, alongside you as you finished Sero’s favorite flick, Scott Pilgrim vs the World. It felt so good to let go and really laugh, it had started to feel like it had been too long. Time seemed a distant concept to you at the moment, as nothing from the outside world weighed on you as you merrily enjoyed your high with Sero.

Your eyes were pink from smoking, little tears forming at the base of your lower eyelashes as you gasped for breath as your laughing fit began to subside. You don’t even remember what you had been laughing about exactly, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Your attention was brought back to Sero as he began to rise from his spot beside you on the couch, your eyes following his lazy movements as the movie credits began to roll.

“I’m getting a bit of cottonmouth,so why don’t I get us some drinks while you choose something else for us to watch?” Sero offered to which you agreed, lazily beginning to scroll through the other titles that were currently available on Netflix as Sero made his way over to the little kitchen he had equipped.

“Thirsty for anything in particular?” You heard his voice call out to you, but you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop screen, still searching for another flick to watch.

“Just water would be fantastic,” was your response as you searched through the comedy section, knowing that Sero preferred comedies.

A few moments later, Sero had returned to your side, a glass of water in one hand for you and a soda can for him in his other hand. Thanking him as you gently took it from his hands, you took the glass and raised it to your lips. Taking large sips, reveling in the cool feeling of the water flowing over your tongue and to the back of your throat, you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch your every movement adoringly.

“Wanna take another hit?” Sero asked as you finished taking a drink, setting down the mostly empty glass back down on the table.

You hummed in thought at his question, before nodding, a small giggle escaping your lips, “What’s one more hit, right?”

Sero, the practiced stoner he is, had another bowl set up for you ready to go in what seemed like seconds, graciously handing you the now loaded bowl. Gently taking it from his hands and placing it in the bong, you fired up the lighter and took a huge hit.

A h u g e hit. It was a little larger than you had meant, but being high had made your judgement a little empaired. You coughed a bit as you expelled the wave of smoke from your lungs, waving your hands as Sero laughed.

Your cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment at Sero laughing as you tried to regain your composure. “S-Stop laughing!” You cried, setting the bong back down, but Sero just shook his head.

“I can’t help it, sunshine. Seeing you not being able to take that hit is hilarious,” he continued to laugh, as your cheeks burned warmer at his words.

“Its not my fault that I don’t have your iron lungs,” you mocked, picking up your glass once more and finishing the contents in an attempt stop your coughing fit. “Not all of us are stoners.”

A small gasp tore from Sero’s throat, as he held a hand to his chest, pretending to be surprised by your words. “Me? A stoner? How could you even say such a thing?” He asked, shooting you a kicked puppy look which just made you giggle in return, your head feeling a little fuzzy from the extra hit.

“Oh don’t be a baby,” patting the spot next to you, you flashed Sero a loopy smile, “come on, lets watch another movie,” you countered to which Sero agreed to, settling back down in his spot beside you. You reached forward, setting your now empty glass next to the laptop and hit play on the movie, before moving back into the cushions. Your body began to feel heavier as you gingerly leaned into Sero’s side, who in return wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gently tugged you a little closer to his chest as the intro finished and the movie began.

You weren’t long into the movie before you were struggling to keep your eyes opened. You shifted slightly, trying to force yourself to wake up, but the more that the time wore on, the harder it became to stay awake.

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes into the film before you were out cold, your deep and even breathing soft in Sero’s ear as your tired figure slept against his shoulder.

“Sunshine,” Sero whispered, tentatively placing a hand on your knee and gently shaking you. He watched your face carefully for any sign of rousing, but your breathing continued at its deep, even, undisturbed pace. An eager smile danced across Sero’s visage at your lack of response, his heart pounding in his chest in excitement. Wrapping his strong arms around your pliable person, Sero gently maneuvered your sleepy shape to be laying on your back, tummy up, the skirt you had worn riding up on your thighs as your leg lay limply, slightly apart.

Sero took a moment just watching you, drinking in all of your beauty. You looked so sweet and vulnerable asleep on Sero’s couch defenseless. He gazed at your unconscious body oh so lovingly as you lay completely helpless to the danger that lurks around you. It makes Sero’s heart squeeze in his chest in realization that you need him. You needed him to protect you and Sero would happily be your knight in shining armour.

“Her knight in shining honor”, Sero thought to himself merrily, infatuated with protecting his little ray of sunshine. His fingers began to skim the skin of your thighs, slowly pushing your skirt up higher and higher. Shouldn’t your knight get a little reward for his services? Sero certainly thought so, afterall it was only fair that he get to enjoy his sunshine in return for all he does for you.

Sero’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of your black laced panties, skirt bunched up past your hips, leaving your panty clad intimate parts exposed for his greedy eyes. There were no such things as imperfection to Sero when it came to you. All of your little bumps, blemishes, and things you didn’t like about yourself were all things that Sero adored about you. It's what made you you, and he simply ached to worship you.

Hungry hands hooked fingers into your panties, swiftly pulling the soft material down your supple skin in earnest. A groan tore from Sero’s throat at the sight of sticky, clear strings sticking from the fabric to your little treasure.

Fuck was he glad he slipped you an aprodiasic alongside the sleeping pills. Seeing your hole already wet and begging for his attention had his pants quickly tenting uncomfortably. He could not wait to get started.

Moving quickly and silently, he settled himself on his stomach between your thighs, carefully placing your thighs over his shoulders. His starved stare meets your slick slit and he couldn’t stop himself from licking a stripe up your lips, moaning at the delicious taste of your essence. His eyes flickered back to your face where he found you still sound asleep, unaware of reality.

“Perfect”, he thought to himself at your unconscious state, “just like last time.”

Confident in his security, Sero began to feast on your unprotected pussy, his tongue swiping through your folds as he drank every ounce of you in. His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head at your taste as if he was tasting the most divine thing ever created. He couldn’t seem to get enough as his hands encased your thighs, hungrily pulling your closer to his famished mouth. Your breath quickened in pace at Sero’s ministrations but the sleeping pills kept you nestled peacefully in between complete unconsciousness and your dreams, deep asleep. It seemed almost as if Sero had been eating you out for hours when he had finally come up for air, sucking in deep gulps of air into his lungs greedily. He knelt in front of your vulnerable body, lips and chin shiny with your slick as he slipped a finger into your heat, quickly followed by another as he gently began to scissor your walls apart. Your warmth gushed around his fingers as he worked you open for him, using his free hand to slip down to his belt and make quick work of that before tugging his boxers and pants down. His cock now free of confinement slapped against his abs before he gently removed his fingers from your heat. Your juices completely soaked his hand as he brought it to his cock, using your wetness to get him slick for you. He watched your sleepy face as he stroked himself, his bottom lip caught between his lip as he intently drank in your features. With both of your bodies prepped, patience grew thin, so he tilted his hips down, nudging your dripping entrance with his plush tip, your legs lazily spread and looped loosely around his hips.

Slipping himself between your folds, Sero took a deep breath before pressing himself into your warm, wet, tight cavern. He didn’t stop slowly driving his cock into your twitching heat until he became fully sheathed inside your awaiting pussy. He groaned softly at the feeling of his cock being encased by your velvet walls, his eyes never leaving your face as he adjusted to the delicious feeling you were giving him. After a few moments of adjustment, Sero pulled his hips back, feeling his manhood drag against your plush walls, a soft moan escaping your sleeping shape as you stirred slightly in your hazy state. Once you settled and he was positive you were going to stay asleep, he drove his hips forward into your cunt his eyes moving away from your face and down to where his cock was buried deep inside of you. The erotic sight of you being fucked by his cock kicked him into gear as he soon found a steady rhythm as he pounded into you.

With every thrust of his hip, your cream coated his silken rod, making Sero almost feral with the sight. It took every ounce of self control he had to not fuck you the way you deserved, the way you needed him, but he couldn’t risk having you wake up during your little relaxation session. It took every ounce of self control that he possessed to keep himself from fucking you silly, but with plans for the pair of you in the future, he was willing to wait to rock your world for when you were awake and in more of a … receptive position to receive the full force of his love for you.

It wasn’t long before Sero found himself reaching his end, much to his displeasure, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was able to get to do this again. He always made excuses to get the two of you alone, for “purely innocent reasons” according to your knowledge. He couldn’t help it! He loved you too much, and he needed to get his fix.

“F-Fuck,” he moaned as he fucked himself into your pussy, panting softly as he drew close to his completion. “You feel so good, sunshine. You were made for my fucking cock, shit,” he swore, his thrusts becoming increasinly sloppy. He pulled himself out before he came, hips hovering over yours as his hand frantically worked his length trying to finish himself off.

“Fuck yes!” Sero growled as he came, hot white, sticky ropes of cum decorating your glistening pussy as he furiously worked his hand over his cock. “God, love you so much,” he groaned as he finished, hovering over you as he caught his breath. His eyes watched as his cum dripped down your pussy, becoming entangled with your own juices. Without skipping a beat, Sero reached over and grabbed his phone, taking a quick snapshot of your fucked out pussy covered in his essence and saved it in a secret gallery of pictures he kept of you. He needed to add to the collection, something to help tide him over until the next time. Setting his phone back down, he leaned over you and gently kissed you, like a lover would, savoring your lips while you were still asleep. Breaking the kiss, he gazed lovingly down at you, gently playing with a strand of your hair. He wished this moment would never end, but he knew that he had to get going, sighing softly to himself.

It was time to start up the cleaning process.

~~~~~~~~~~

A phone ringing caused you to stir from your deep slumber, a deep yawn escaping your lips as you stretched your stiff body from sleeping on the couch. You rubbed your eyes slightly as you woke up, before you took in the room before you. You saw Sero back turned to you as he spoke in hushed tones over the phone, hearing Bakugo’s voice grunting something to him over the phone about working out later that day. You glanced around the room as you yawned again, slightly confused as to how you got here before remembering coming over to Sero’s place the previous night after being really stressed and wanting to take a break. It wasn’t long until Sero finished his phone call, turning back to your and finding you awake, looking back at him.

“Sorry,” Sero began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized sheepishly with a small smile, taking in your figure.

“It’s no worries,” you hum out sleepily finding yourself naturally returning his smile. “Did I pass out last night?” You asked, not fully remembering what had happened after that last bong hit.

“Yeah! You fell asleep about maybe half way through the first movie? I don’t remember exactly when, I was paying too much attention to the movie,” he lied smoothly, your face showing telltale signs of embarrassment at having fallen asleep during the movie. Especially in Sero’s room after having come to his room for a favor. How could you ask to hang out with someone then fall asleep on them!”

“Oh… Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you laughed a little uneasy, but Sero was quick to reassure you. “Don’t worry about it! You said yourself that you were stressed out of your mind, and it seemed that you needed to give yourself some rest. No need to apologize,” Sero soothed you easily, a smile returning to your face as you nodded. He almost felt bad lying to your face, but this was just more proof that you needed him! He had placed all your clothes back on properly, cleaned up the mess last night and you were none the wiser! Your lack of realization of what had happened, though it pleased Sero to know he got away with his little love session, cemented your need for him in Sero’s mind.

“Well will you let me buy you coffee as a thanks for letting me crash? We can study together at that cafe near the gym if you want? ” You offered, wanting to express your gratitude to your friend, who graciously accepted your idea, pleased to spend more time with you.

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” he chirped, quick to pack up his things in his backpack and get ready to go.

The sun was rising slowly from the horizon, fluffy white clouds moving lazily across the sky, as the two of you walked to the cafe together. The birds sang so sweetly as the pair of you made your way, but their songs meant nothing to Sero, too entranced with your own sweet voice as you chattered happily with him about whatever came to mind.

Opening the door for you once the pair of you arrived, you flashed him a sweet smile in response before stepping inside the warm coffee shop. The smile you gave, to him, was brighter than the sun, warmer than the core of the Earth, and he realized he needed it. Just like you need his protection, he needs you, his sunshine, to bring warmth into his life and make him whole. With your back to him, browsing the menu of its many drink options, you failed to notice the pair of eyes drinking in every inch of your form with intense infatuation. You had no idea the danger that lurked behind those kind eyes, and unfortunately for you, you didn’t notice that Sero’s friendliness was more until too late.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #yandere sero hanta #yandere sero x reader #yandere sero #tw: noncon #tw: somnophilia #yandere #yandere x reader #bhna #yandere bhna #yandere bhna x reader #weed smoking #reader insert #mha #yandere mha #smut #yandere smut

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perhapsthanatos · 3 years

Text

06:01 am with sungchan ♡

nct's sungchan x fem!reader (ok do u guys know that one vine where its in a party & a girl is vaping & a dude says “wow”? yeah, thats where i got my inspo from)

alternate title: after the afterparty

genre: fluff. pinning. non idol au. party!au (is that a thing?).

word count: 1250~

playlist: melodrama (the whole album) by lorde.

warnings: mentions of some of the nct dream members as well as some mentions of the loona members (not really a warning though). this is set before corona was a thing (pls dont do this now). it is set in a house party (with tension). mentions of drugs (weed), alcohol & smoking. mild swearing. making out perhaps? lower case intended.

a/n: this has been on my mind for awhile now & im really excited to put this out there! it also has more tension compared to the other works so yay :)) i also just wanna take a moment to thank the lovely @nct99 for helping me out with this plot & giving some prompts & ideas too?? :(( she is such a sweetheart & pls she is so talented too ugh im so glad we r mutuals & fellow lorde stans :(( give her love rn or else i will eat ur shower curtains (& nae i hope it was worth the wait! i wish i added more references tho lmaoo)

another graceless night and another house party. this time, it was chenle’s birthday. he is a friend of yours, known for having a huge mansion and known for throwing the best parties regardless of the occasion. come to think of it though, it could easily be the 7th one this week and it’s barely wednesday. the evening passes fast as golden rays already start to gently peek through the thin curtains of the tall windows near the living room, as bodies of wasters are sprawled all over the house.

you lean back on the couch further, a curtain of haze taking up your vision as you inhaled another hit of the fresh blunt. even with the sun rising, you still make most of what you can get before everyone (and everything) starts leaving. you never were a party person until your friends dragged you into it. since that day you found it to be a fun way to get rid of your problems and worries (even if it was just for a few hours). partying (as gross as it sounds) became a routine, even becoming its own cycle. you come, you leave and you have everything in between be a complete blur, maybe even staying completely jaded until the daylight returns. some nights it feels good to kiss and keep busy rather than face the constant harsh reality.

you turn your head to see sungchan, the back of his head resting on the top of the couch right next to you. his leather jacket rubbing against your bare arm. his eyes are closed showing off his long lashes and his pink lips are chapped and parted. he looks seraphic in this light.

to be honest, you didn’t know much about sungchan. all you knew was that he’s the new kid who started getting close with jisung barely a month ago. that led jisung to introduce him to the group and him getting welcomed in with open arms by everyone, except you. it’s not that you hate him or have anything against him, if anything he seems like the most charming people out there. you just have trouble opening up to new people especially when you’re already so comfortable with the others (which he could kind of guess already). but since he joined, he was also dragged into the party scene and often played the role as the designated driver and part-time babysitter (a role that he takes seriously along with jeno). it isn’t an uncommon occurrence for him to be seen wrestling the bottle of gin away from hyejoo, strapping in renjun’s seat belt for him, cleaning up yerim’s vomit or carrying an unconscious donghyuck over his shoulder. come to think of it, he fits in just fine. you have often found yourself near him during parties. just kicking back and sitting in a comfortable silence with you drinking and smoking from time to time. he is the one that notices when you’ve had enough and wanted to leave. maybe you’re more alike than you think?

“feeling good?” he asks, smelling the fresh smoke. he turns his head to you and opens one of his eyes.

you only nod and sigh, turning your head back to the ceiling. waves of calmness hit your head, forcing every burden out. you were about to offer him a hit but you remembered that he would only reject it. but you take another for yourself and he can only stare, completely enamored. we watches the smoke escape your lips in slow.

the thing is, he always had some sort of thing for you. a crush? a person he found cool and therefore admired? a person who he found so damn gorgeous all the time? god knows. all he knew was that there was something in you that was so addictive. on the nights where he’d stay sober, he’d watch you sit by his side, quietly drinking up your little movements and habits. even if he hates the taste of alcohol or the smell of gasoline, he loved how your teeth would close around the liquor-wet lime slices that would sit on the side of your cup and how your smoke always finds a way to leave him stained. he would constantly be falling into this fixation of you. you are etched into his mind as the embodiment of perfection even if you have multiple flaws just like he does. his mind constantly lays restless during the most ungodly hours while all of his dreams show you and him in different dimensions. it hurts him to violently like you like this but how can he not resist when the heartache came from you?

“sungchan,” you quietly call out, turning your head back to him, only to see him already staring.

“hm?” he takes one of your hands, in case you wanted to get up and couldn’t walk.

“may i try something?” you ask him, curiously with your hooded eyes barely holding on to consciousness.

“what is it?” he sits up, trying to help.

you gently push him back into the couch and straddle his hips. his eyes slightly widen and his cheeks turn a rosy red.

“ah, y/n, you’re fucking high.” he warns, stroking your hair and leaning further back.

you only giggle. your finger lifts his chin up, making him look directly at you. his shaky eyes are too irresistible.

“tell me when you wanna stop.”

you take the blunt, inhaling deeply. he continues to hold you, admiring the view while he’s at it.

you then gently pulled him closer by the neck (quite slowly incase he wanted to oppose) to leave an open-mouthed kiss on his plum lips to transfer the smoke into his mouth. he does not fight the feeling, how can he when your lips are the softest thing he has ever felt? the smoke began to seep through as he started to move his lips, eliciting a groan from you. is this what euphoria feels like? his grip on your waist tightens as your arms wrap around his neck, prompting him to go further.

sungchan, almost breathless pulls on your bottom lip, bruising them to then pull away to work at your neck, licking and leaving kisses all over. butterflies filled your stomach for the first time in awhile. you never felt this way towards another person in too long. is it love or desperation? you watch the smoke flow away so gracefully around your bodies, despite what just happened. sungchan pulls away and looks at you, his eyes holding the world. you pray that you didn’t frighten him away.

“you do not know how long i’ve been wanting to do that,” he whispers, his forehead against yours. you smile in return, pulling away to place a small kiss on his jaw which clenches from the sudden contact. you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as his head rests on yours and his cold hands trace patterns against the skin of your back.

“know i think you’re fucking awesome, right?” you hum, making him smile like an idiot.

“hm, no. but i think you should know that i think you’re really fucking awesome, right?” he says holding you tighter and gently swaying from side to side.

“you wanna leave here and get some mcdonalds or something?”

“ooo, what ever happened to the babysitter and designated driver, hm? so what, you plan to leave them here hungover and defenseless?”

“shut up, it’s already dawn. they can take an uber. i just wanna spend time with you right now.”

“alright.”

#efa writes!#nct 2020 #nct #nct u #nct dream #nct 127 #sungchan #sungchan imagines #sungchan drabbles #sungchan fluff #nct sungchan #nct imagines #nct u imagines #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct timestamps #sungchan timestamps #i wanna jump off a bridge these tags better work

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diveronarpg · 6 years

Photo

Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL with an approved FC change to URSULA CORBERO. Admin Jen: Truly, Becky, you have left us speechless with this wonderful application! Your take on Grace was a bit unusual, and certainly not what I was expecting as I had established her in my mind as very cold and clinical. But the way you integrated emotions into her portrayal was brilliant -- it gave her a touch of volatility and extremism that accentuated the terror that Grace embodies so perfectly. I loved your future plots especially the evil scheme that you elaborated on and your writing sample left me trembling in both fear and admiration; everything just came together so intricately! I can’t wait to watch as she burns Verona to the ground! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Becky

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’ve sold my soul to you now, I can’t ever leave

Timezone | Ok so I wrote BST on Odessa’s app but the rest of the UK gang put GMT (time is a social construct and I’m actually a cosmic entity floating around the globe giving u all forehead kisses)

Current/Past RP Accounts | x x

In Character

Ok so I know you didn’t exactly accept her as an FC for Grace but I’m hoping you warm to edgy-looking neo-noir Úrsula Corberó once you’ve read the app. I admit that my idea of Grace may not be quite what you’re looking for but I wanted to give applying for her a shot because I love me Hot Mess of a character! (but I am also happy to come up with alternatives if not)

Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?

Character | Grace ‘Goneril’ Daly

What drew you to this character? | So like any good prophecy/vision/intervention of fate, I woke up one morning with a mighty need to play a character who is Odessa’s opposite, the black fur coat leather skirt cigarette ash psycho babe to my honey sweet lace and silk angel of retribution, so I’ve sort of been slyly waiting for Grace’s bio to be released.

It’s her contrast to Odessa that initially drew me in with the chance to explore another character whose existence and presence in Verona revolves around her father’s ties to a mob, but resulting in a drastically alternate result. It will be very different playing a character who doesn’t particularly have a motive for killing (beyond self-preservation and power-lust) and is loyal to only herself.

Whilst I would usually play a character like Grace as being a cold-hearted, emotionless ice queen, I feel as though Grace is better suited to burning. She is a slave to her emotions, the rise and fall of them dictating her mood, all while highly strung and fuelled by a chaotic form of energy. You can very much tell when she is happy and when she is not. She’ll cry in front of you just as gladly as she’ll laugh and kiss you. She’s unkind, ruthless, impulsive, emotional, and she’s ready to antagonise people to her tar-black heart’s content.

Character inspo: Azula from Avatar, Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body, Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter, War from Good Omens. Trope inspo Alpha Bitch, Ambiguous Disorder, Blatant Lies, Daddy’s Little Villain, Go-Getter Girl, Hair-Trigger Temper, Improbable Weapon User, Jerkass, Sadist, Spoiled Brat, Virtue is Weakness.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. A masterplan;

Step One: Grow to become an important part of the mob you were all but born into. Turn yourself into the perfect player, capable with weapons and unblinking in the face of danger. Step Two: Leave them. Join their rivals. Prove yourself to them by dispatching of a few former associates, low hanging fruit. Become just as relevant within their ranks. Step Three: Collate what you have learnt about the two mobs. Their strengths, their weaknesses. Make a few friends with similar goals to yourself. Corrupt them. Step Four: Start your own mob. You now know your enemies intimately. You know what it takes to break them. Bit by bit, steal Verona out from under their noses. Laugh at their mistakes and dance in the ashes of their burning empires as you build your own. Step Five: Be remembered forever.

ii. The double agent;

Traitor. Grace wears the title with pride, her smile sharp when she comes face to face with both Capulets and Montagues alike. Slinking from one mob to the other was a seemingly effortless transition, welcomed by none other than Damiano himself. She fed him information about Cosimo and his crew, spilling secrets around the end of her lipstick-stained cigarette. It was an easy way in, but now that she’s settled amongst her new comrades she finds herself looking back across the bridge with interest. Power is power but information is advantageous – Grace isn’t above feeding Montague-whispers back to her old associates, not if it means she wins friends on both sides of Verona. That way, it’s impossible for her not to win this war.

iii. Sisters, sisters

Regina and Catherine. Both are equally as disgraceful to the Daly name – one can’t even bring herself to be enthusiastic about the opportunities that lie, shiny and golden, before them, and the other flutters her lashes and talks of peace, of all things. Grace has never paid them much attention, but now that she’s sided with the Montagues she’s realised that the Capulets could do with having their numbers thinned. Whether she’ll try to convince them to switch sides with her for the Montague brownie-points or simply wipe her sister off of the face of the earth forever remains to be seen, but if Regina and Catherine think they can keep their heads down and get away with making the Dalys seem anything less than destined for greatness, they’ve got one hell of a storm coming.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I sure am, same goes for Odessa now, it’s time to make like Grace and embrace reckless abandon

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

She is the thing watching you from the edge of the road, where long grass shivers with the motion of something far more alive than it has any right to be; a pair of eyes that glint in the final rays of the sunlight’s reaches, bleached white enamel teeth ready to sink themselves into those who mistake the night’s cloak as a thing to hide under rather than be consumed by.

She is fresh fruit in the heat, a slow rotting taking place at the centre disguised by mouth-watering scents and a flesh that glistens under the sheen of morning dew. Decay is a dance, slow and tantalising, the heart turning to a sticky dark mess that slides through the fingers of anyone who dares to try and save it.

She is a doctor who has never been able to stop her hands from shaking at the prospect of a new body, eager to pick up the scalpel and press it down into soft flesh, revealing a mass of life clinging to the bones. Her favourite colour is red, the sort that looks black in the evening, droplets turning to pools that spread through pressed shirts and silk pyjamas like tears on pillows. There’s blood on her hands, not always metaphorical. She licks it off, rarely quite satisfied.

Grace fucks like the meeting of hips will reveal the monster that lies beneath her, as though touching there and there and there will unlock ribcages and unleash what’s trapped inside of hearts. But to understand why, you must crawl inside her skull and make sense of what lurks there beneath the smoke of burning houses and vultures picking at once-satisfied things–

“Please take a seat,” Damiano says, and Grace lingers before lowering herself onto the chair, her gaze gliding over the mahogany desk between them before raising to study the man himself.

He smells like her father. That’s the first thing she notices, the faint cologne. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and the signet ring on his finger keeps catching on things, releasing a dull metallic sound each time. His presence is more regal than Cosimo’s and yet she finds herself thinking the exact same thing – you aren’t worthy.

These men had all inherited their empires, passed down like heirlooms, and as a result they had become lazy. Content. Uninspiring.

“I’m very happy to be here,” she chimes pleasantly. “However… unexpected it may be.” She doesn’t tell him how much she wants this. Doesn’t explain that being welcomed into the inner sanctum of the Montagues is as pleasing as a night of post-murder hot sex. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your work.”

Damiano doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t need to. Grace is well aware that she wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t intend to offer her something. “I have a proposition.”

I bet you do, she thinks, her well-orchestrated plan playing out like the sweetest of songs. Black-nail-polished fingers press to her chest, feigning surprise. “For me? Damiano, you’re spoiling me.” The words curl up from her lips like tendrils of cigarette smoke. She punctuates them with a light laugh.

The deal is a simple one: information for protection. Spill some secrets to join the ranks. Grace does so without blinking, switching silver for gold, and slowly the pieces begin to fall into place. As with any self-proclaimed god, she grazes her knees on carpet to say thanks to Damiano, sacrifices those she’s left behind, and fills her head with only the loveliest visions of tearing his and Cosimo’s empires to the ground.

Extras:

Pinterest board

Time for more of ‘Becky attempts to write headcanons’:

Her parent’s little angel turned little devil. Spoilt from a young age, she soon learnt that she could get away with near enough anything provided she smiled sweetly to her parents and told them just how much she loved them. When her sisters were born, the attention that had been on her drifted and Grace found that she had to work harder and harder to hear her name on her parent’s lips.

Grace grew up restless. Her ambitions would flit like moths around a lightbulb, becoming half-planned dreams and broken things. It wasn’t until she was rushed to hospital following a road traffic accident* (which resulted in the removal of a kidney) that she decided to train to become a paramedic. *Her parents later suggested that it was no accident and had in fact been planned by the Montagues,

As a paramedic, she always manages to be first on the scene when an incident linked to the mobs is called in. Strategically, if someone fails to complete a murder she can finish the job herself, or silence any witnesses. Similarly, it also gives her the opportunity to plant fake evidence or remove weapons from the scene. For those evading the eyes of the authorities, she can also help those who have been hurt and can’t risk a trip to the hospital.

She is resourceful and will use whatever is to hand as a weapon. Has been known to dish out the odd black eye, broken nose, crushed windpipe, and acrylic nail scratches. Her father himself trained her to use a pistol and rifle under the guise that he was teaching her to hunt (which, technically, wasn’t a lie – they just never specified the quarry).

She lives by 3 important rules. One: trust only those you would die for. Two: protect what is yours. Three: if something is boring or unimportant, do not waste time on it.

Grace needs to be needed and wants to be wanted. She can’t stand shrinking into shadows and being forgotten. No, she must remain the life of the party and attract the attention (be it good or bad) of everyone.

She was once arrested and fined for drunk and disorderly behaviour on whilst on holiday in England. She slept it off in a cell and was released the next morning with a hefty fine.

She is a big fan of piercings and has a stick n poke shark on her ribs.

Inspo quotes:

“I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise.

“Her mood is cruel, her nature dangerous. Her will fierce and intractable” – Euripides (translated by Philip Vellacott), Medea

“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.” – Junot Diaz, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao

#accepted: goneril #accepted

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