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satoruwiki · 4 months

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Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk naoya #headcanon #jjk hcs #naoya x you #zenin naoya #naoya x reader #naoya zenin #naoya smut #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk zenin

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 14 days

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✨Staticmoth wedding headcanons✨

Because I have a lot of thoughts but can't come up with the plot to turn it into fic

✨ Vox absolutely loses his shit. You would think that Valentino would be a groomzilla material but oh no no, Val just wants sexy dress and enough coke to last three days of partying. Vox needs everything perfect. He has his grand vision and is ready to tear with bare hands everyone who does not deliver. During the preparation time, he murders as many people as Val usually does. Velvette bails on being the wedding planner after just two weeks because it was seriously straining their friendship. But after a month, she's back in the game. Why? Because Vox strangled three other wedding planners in frustration, and things weren't moving forward, so Val was starting to freak out.

✨ The event is held at the Vees' Tower. I reckon they've got a venue suitable for hosting conferences and porn award shows.

✨ It's a grand event. I'm talking Grand™, like the Kim K and Kanye West of Hell kind of grand. But it's also elite, so the guest list isn't that long, around 200 invited people plus 50 ticketed spots for anyone willing to drop 100k hellish bucks to attend. Everything is dripping with gold and diamonds because "quiet luxury" isn't in the Vees' vocabulary. The whole affair reflects Val's aesthetic more, as it's Vox's love letter to him. Vox already had his wedding, and now it's time to fulfill his husband's dreams. So Val makes about 90% of the decisions without shouldering any real responsibilities. Which is fine by everyone because he's annoying as hell when it comes to picking roses, flamingo feathers, and starters. Nobody wants to put him in high-stress situations. Expect lots of red, pink, and gold, with heavy, decadent fabrics and neon lights; it's like an exclusive brothel meets the Las Vegas strip.

✨ When it comes to flowers, they settled on roses because they're Vox's favorites, which naturally made them Val's favorite too, given the sheer number of bouquets he's received. Vox, being the freak he is, counts every single bouquet he's ever given to Val. So, for their wedding, he ensures there are twice as many roses. Yes, he's a pathological overachiever.

✨ As for attractions, there’s a plethora of erotic dancers in cages and mesmerizing drone light shows. Karaoke, slot machines, live cooking stations, and all the drugs you can imagine. And let's not forget a fountain flowing with tequila. It's a true adult wonderland.

✨ Valentino skips the whole white dress thing and rocks a fierce red latex gown that's very Mugler but with a fetishcore twist. Vox keeps it sleek in a sharp black three-piece suit. His shirt's a bold blue, and his tie matches Val's dress. His shoulder pads are pointy, his waist is slutty, his ass looks divine. Oh yeah, about slutty waist - underneath the shirt he is hiding a leather corset, as a treat for the wedding night.

✨ Also none of them really have friends other than Velvette, just associates so there are no groomsmen/maids.

✨ Since there aren't any traditional churches or government officials in Hell (if there's even a government at all), Velvette takes on the role of officiating the wedding. Vox isn't entirely thrilled with this choice because there's always the risk she might crack a joke or publicly rib him, but hey, there's really no one else who could pull it off. I imagine that a wedding in Hell is also some form of magical contract but more about partnership than ownership. They do not exchange rings but blood sksksk also I don’t think that Vox can really wear rings with his claws? And they couldn't quite agree on a design that satisfied both of them. In the end, Val ends up wearing his illegally imported engagement ring from Earth, featuring four pink diamonds shaped like a moth's wings.

✨ Val's vow is, well, atrocious. It's the kind of thing that would definitely land him in one of those TikTok compilations of terrible grooms ruining their weddings. He mentions cream pieing Vox at least once. Vox at first freaks out but seconds later realizes Wow that's the man I'm marrying. I wouldn't want him any other way On the flip side, Vox's vow is immaculate. Crafted with the assistance of Voxtek's CMO and practiced to perfection, it leaves everyone in awe. He has out-of-body experience playing this role of prince charming.

✨ For their first dance, they opt for a steamy tango. Picture this: swirling red smoke on the floor, making it seem like they're dancing on the sky of the pride ring when the sun is setting down. Little do the guests know, the smoke is laced with drugs, sending most of them on a wild trip. The party quickly goes off the rails, but in the best way possible (according to the Vees’ standards).

✨ The cake is a five-tier monstrosity with five different flavors: tres leches and chocolate-cherry chosen by Val, confetti cake and strawberry cheesecake chosen by Vox and Red Velvet for Velvette because she couldn't shut up about it To top it all off, there's a big chocolate figure of Vox and Valentino dancing. Val is later caught drunk, eating it with his bare hands like the filthy animal he is.

✨ Velvette’s wedding gift is a pair of customized matching guns with small engravings that read "Partners in Crime."

✨ Valentino pulls off a surprise special pole dance performance as a wedding gift for his husband. Let's just say it's scorching hot and leaves at least 50 guests with, uh, visible excitement. Later on, things almost escalate to a full-on table bang, but...

✨ Velvette spends the entire evening reminding them that they can't just vanish to consummate their marriage because this whole party took months of preparations, and they need to be present. After all, people paid good money to be around them. The threat of cock cages hangs over their heads, but they promise to behave. However, Val being the horny beast he is, ends up taking Vox to the bathroom for a quickie anyway. Velvette decides to let it slide this time.

✨ At least 20 casualties mark the night. Vox ends up zapping one of the guests who gets a bit too clingy with Val during the dance. Meanwhile, Val gets into a brawl and, well, let's just say it doesn't end well for the other guy. Surprisingly, everyone seems to be having a great time, but hey, these are the Vees' colleagues we're talking about—they thrive on violence and sex.

✨ Yeah, there's no shortage of sex at this party. With a guest list mainly consisting of businesspeople, adult performers, and mobsters, tensions escalate rapidly. By around 3 A.M., half of the party is busy getting down and dirty in every corner imaginable.

✨ When Vox reaches the perfect level of drunkenness, he seizes control of the DJ station. Surprisingly, he's a natural, dropping beats like a pro and having an absolute blast. Val, meanwhile, goes absolutely wild watching him, thrilled to see Vox letting loose and embracing his creative side.

✨ Derek, Vox's assistant, is the odd one out, the only low-status person to snag an invite because Vox felt kinda generous. But truth be told, Derek hates the idea and wasn't keen on attending. However, when Melissa caught wind of his invitation, she practically dragged him there to be his plus one, desperate to get closer to Velvette. Derek's terrified of most of the guests, but Melissa's over the moon. She later fucks him as a reward for being a very brave boy. Angel is not invited because he would ruin mood of both grooms.

✨ Valentino had prepared the filthiest, kinkiest, most elaborate wedding night, but it doesn't go as planned. Surprisingly, things turn out very vanilla for their standards, with a lot of missionary, eye contact, and hand-holding. After 16 hours of non-stop action, they're both too exhausted to even think about getting creative.

Thank you @purrpleowl @watcherofeternalflame @canadianlucifer @aroromantic @malu897 @staticmothed @chaggieslovechild @gumm1defloor @mayflowersfly for your thoughts!

#hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #vox hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #the vees #staticmoth #voxval #fluff #headcanon #self indulgence at its finest #melissa hazbin hotel #vox's assistant

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miraclewoozi · 10 months

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NETFLIX AND-- ? - c.hs

you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing.

pair; vernon x fem reader. genre; domestic smut. MINORS DNI. wc; 2.3k (short n sweet <3) note; saw a prompt while i was scrolling through some things and it had me feeling feelings. experiencing experiences. apparently i am soft needy for him today. barely proof read. smut tags utc. xoxo

smut tags; soft!dom/service top vernon but he’s also a fucking tease. fingering (f rec). sort of edging, more of a continued stop/start. squirting. implied that vernon has a praise kink (shock horror). let me know if i've forgotten any.<3

in your defence, you started out with perfectly innocent intentions.

vernon works himself too hard. you wish he wouldn’t, but he does — it’s a fact, and even though he’ll always shake his head and deny it, you know it’s true. self care, to him, is working. it’s in the fulfilment from a job well done. it’s the clap on a shoulder from a higher-up that recognises how hard he’s been slaving away at his computer screen. it’s in getting results, and he doesn’t get results if he doesn’t do. if he doesn’t maintain. if he doesn’t nigh-on exhaust himself for the sake of the company he’s employed by.

so, you’ve made a plan. on friday, in the few hours he’ll have free between finishing work and settling down to sleep, you’re going to do whatever you can to look after him.

it starts with dinner. heartfelt, home-cooked food. he drops his bag by the front door and his entire face turns so soft he thinks it might melt clean off him. the aromas from the kitchen hit him and he floats across the apartment like a cartoon, all the way to where you’re stood waiting for him, a sort of dopey grin spreading across every single one of his features.

“that smells so good,” he whines, putting his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. when you ask how his day went, he says he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care. because he’s home now, and because loves you so much — he doesn’t want to think about anything else.

he clings to you until the food is ready and laid out on the dining table, only pulling himself away when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to be able to have his dinner sitting in your lap.

you eat together with the lights slightly dimmed, a few candles illuminating the table. you talk, a little, but the quiet that surrounds the bubbles of conversation is just as comfortable, so neither of you are bothered when your minds are more focused on the food in front of you than conversing with each other. after, he helps you clear the dishes and stack them over by the sink: you’ll deal with them later on.

your hand finds his, then, fingers intertwining, and vernon lets himself be dragged all the way to your bedroom. he changes out of his work clothes, tosses them into the laundry basket, and slips into an old, worn, stained and atrociously ugly pair of sweatpants instead. he bypasses a shirt at your instruction and lies face-down with his head nestled between the pillows.

with one of his own playlists already filling the air around you, you straddle over his hips and start to massage your way up his back. your hands smooth over his skin, thumbs working at a couple of tight spots that have him gasping and grunting, threading his fingers through his own hair to try and keep still. it hurts a bit, but it’s a good kind of pain. so, he lets you work your magic on him; vernon feels all soft and loose, a bit like a deflated balloon animal, by the time you sit up enough for him to be able to roll over between your legs and face you again.

“i thought we could watch a movie tonight, too,” you say quietly, just barely audible over the soft r&b tune in the background. your fingertips tickle up and down his sides as you speak; he sighs at the softness of your touch. “anything you want.”

“what’s all this in aid of, exactly?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. his voice is deep and kind of rough-edged. the way you like it most.

you laugh, quietly, and bend low to kiss the corner of his mouth, caging him in with your forearms either side of his head. “just… because i love you.”

his hands snake up your body to rest against your cheeks and he holds you in place for a second longer. one of the many, many things you love about vernon is the way he kisses you. every time, like it’s the first time. (a symptom of being a closeted rom-com enthusiast, perhaps?) but each press of his lips to yours is always so infused with passion: even the small ones, like this. with his eyes closed, his nose pressed to your cheek, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a shy smile. there’s adoration in every single moment.

you roll off him when he lets go of you and sit up against the headboard, letting him go through the motions of choosing something for you to watch. a few minutes (and no less than three coin tosses to make the decision) later, you open an arm out for him at the sound of the movie starting, and he curls up into your side. his head rests peacefully on your shoulder, one of his legs hooked over one of yours, your arm snaked around his back. you settle into each other’s embrace in a way that you’ve not had time to do in a long while, matching hums of tranquillity vibrating in both of your throats.

the grand budapest hotel has only been playing for about twenty minutes when you feel him start to move slightly, the tips of his fingers gliding slowly across the hem of your t-shirt. you don’t make anything of it at first, because vernon has always had slightly restless hands, no matter what he’s doing. this is very normal for him. he’s probably just mindlessly feeling the fabric beneath his touch as he watches one of his favourite movies.

another few minutes pass and you feel his nails drag against the bare skin of your tummy. you raise an eyebrow and look at him, but his eyes are trained on the tv, even if one side of his mouth is lifted up in a sly kind of smile.

“what are you doing, babe?” you ask him. he lifts his head from its place on your shoulder and shrugs.

“nothing.”

“mhm, sure you aren’t.”

his hand moves down, then. down, towards your shorts. down, to where his palm wraps around your thigh, half resting on the material of your clothes and half sitting on your bare leg. his fingers make small, light, circular movements against your skin and he nudges your other thigh over slightly with the knee he settled between your legs earlier, effectively spreading you open for him. just a little.

just enough.

“vernon,” you chuckle, but you don’t make any attempt to move your legs back together. “come on, relax. watch your movie.”

“i am,” he says matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “wish i could say the same for you, though.”

“you’re terrible,” you sigh.

“mm. no, i’m not.”

he creeps further and further up your thigh, until his hand has slipped completely under your loose fitting sleep shorts and he’s effectively pulling them to one side. a breath catches in your throat and you accidentally arch a little as you feel him brush over your underwear.

“watch the movie,” he says, a little more sternly, and you swallow thickly but settle down more comfortably again. if this is how he chooses to decompress… who are you to stop him, really?

but he knows you too well. knows your body like it’s his own. knows exactly how to make you tick without making you jump his bones and take control. his thumb starts to trace small circles over your covered clit, eliciting quiet gasps from your mouth, but every time you react – what he deems to be – a little too much, he stops. removes the pressure. leaves you to squirm.

“vernon,” you sigh after the third time, agitated but needy and squaring your jaw at his teasing. your panties are soaked by now and you need to feel more of him, but your boyfriend seems to be more than happy to work you up on his own terms. how long will he keep going like this for? there’s at least an hour left of the film; surely he won’t make you wait that long?

“focus, baby.”

or maybe, he will.

his lips find home at the base of your neck and he presses a series of small kisses to your skin, returning his thumb to your panties and rubbing you through them a little harder, pressing the fabric into your heat, smirking at the way your arousal seeps through them and coats his fingertips. your breaths start to pick up again, and you do everything you can to stop him from noticing, but he’s maybe a little too caught up sucking the sweet spot behind your ear to notice how fast your heart is beating from the way he touches you.

so when he drags your underwear out of the way and slides an elegant finger through your folds, you really don’t think you can be blamed for the fact that an unstifled moan leaves your lips.

vernon disagrees, though. because of course he fucking does.

“baby,” he challenges you, his finger just millimetres away from your clit when he stops moving it. “come on. you wanted to help me unwind tonight, didn’t you? that’s what all this was. you were being good to me.”

you nod at him, and he kisses your neck again.

“then watch.”

keeping your mouth tightly shut and fighting against the noises that your body so desperately wants you to make, you let him continue. you let him trace your arousal over your clit, let him dip his finger lower and press just enough inside you that your walls flutter around it. you let him work deeper, and add a second, and try your best not to clamp your legs around his poor wrist when he brushes against the sweet-spot inside you the way that only he knows how.

“s’that feel good, baby?” he asks you.

your eyes are all but glazed over and you don’t think you really know what’s going on in the movie anymore. you can’t remember the names of the characters. is there even a plot? or is it all just pretty, symmetrical imagery now? who the hell is the person that just showed up – surely you haven’t seen him, yet? fuck, you’re completely, hopelessly lost in his fingers and the way they’re buried inside your pussy. every reaction you want to give, you can’t, and it’s so difficult.

but you nod at him anyway, because the least you can do is tell him he’s doing a good job. he likes to hear that sort of thing.

and if there’s any dialogue in the grand budapest hotel, you don’t have a damn clue what’s being said. his fingers move faster inside you and the heel of his hand puts enough pressure on your clit that all of your muscles are tight in an attempt to do what he’s asked. the only sounds in your ears are the smacking of his lips on your throat and the lewd noises that come from the way your pussy sucks his digits in deeper.

you feel like a little toy, wound up to high heaven. waiting, waiting, waiting to be released. waiting to fall into oblivion.

“vernon,” you gasp eventually, silently begging that he won’t stop, that he won’t leave you hanging when you’re so close to the edge.

thankfully, he doesn’t.

“mhm?” he curls his fingers again, a little harder, making you buck up into his hand. whatever game he was playing, he seems to be moving past it now. maybe he wants you to come as much as you do.

“close,” you strain. he nods, slowly, positioning his wrist differently so that he can lay his thumb over your clit instead. the much more deliberate pressure has you seconds away from seeing stars.

“m’gonna ask you about this movie tomorrow, you know,” he chuckles, but he doesn’t slow. he fucks his fingers into you over and over, bringing you closer and closer, and when your toes curl, when you grip his wrist with one hand, when your head falls back against the headboard –

euphoria rushes through you. wetness gushes from you. you feel your pussy contract around his fingers, hugging them tight even though your release tries to expel them; he lets you ride the high out, lets you make a mess on his hand as your hips roll down to meet him, a series of whines and moans falling from your lips. his own continue their gentle caress of your neck. you’re in bliss.

he pulls his fingers from you when you tug at his wrist to tell him to do so, lifting them to his mouth and sucking them clean of your arousal and your release. you close your eyes when he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and his (granted, still kind of sticky) hand comes up to cup your face.

adoration in every moment. like it’s the first.

“don’t bother asking me about it,” you tell him as he pulls away, bumping your nose against his and hearing, from the quiet wet smacking sound they make, how his lips grow into a smile. “i don’t know anything that happened.”

“this is the fourth time i’ve tried to get you to watch this movie, y/n,” he chuckles.

“and this is the fourth time we’ve ended up here. what, does tilda swinton in that ugly wig really do it for you or something?”

“shut up,” he snorts, ever so gently pushing your cheek to move your head away from him. “no-one ever said you had to give into me that easily.”

“oh, you shut up,” you huff, closing your thighs and feeling how your shorts and panties cling to you uncomfortably, only half covering you after he failed to put them back properly. “i was supposed to be helping you chill out. it’s not my fault that you can’t go five minutes without getting handsy.”

“it’s absolutely your fault,” he challenges, getting to his knees and facing you. you can see his cock tenting his sweatpants now and you’d be lying to say that it doesn’t stir something in the depths of your stomach. “you know i can’t resist you in those shorts.”

“you’re so stupid,” you grin, opening your legs up for him to settle between, and he moves over straight away.

“yeah, well,” he chuckles, reaching down to pull your t-shirt up off your head. “you happen to love my kind of stupid.”

thank u sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all greatly appreciated!<3

#vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #hansol smut #choi hansol smut #vernon chwe smut #vernon x reader #j writes.#*

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the-music-maniac · 1 month

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I just saw a take on zosan that was awful enough I had to block the person. They labelled their post "hot takes" and it annoyed me enough that I felt like hating on it from afar in a vague way would be less destructive than writing an entire essay in this person's comments section.

If you like treating Sanji like a babygirl - just say so. Nothing wrong with that. Don't act like uke-ifying him is accurate to his canon characterization though. If you don't like Zoro as a character, just SAY THAT. Don't act like your shitty understanding of him as a character should be common sense. Their premise was that zosan would work best as a non sexual relationship - sure I'm fine with that. Sounds like an interesting premise. Why tho?

The reasons were stupid.

1. Apparently bc Zoro is too much of a neanderthal and BC he doesn't shower frequently Sanji would never touch him blah blah (Sanji smokes ten million cigarettes a day, I assure you he doesn't smell good) y'all should stop treating him like a babygirl bc bleh Zoro stinky and likes drinking and where did that whole he's Nami's gay best friend thing come from, he isn't that, he doesn't deserve it. Okay??? First of all - last I checked babygirl didn't require certain qualifications - so fuck off? I've concluded that Zoro is the only babygirl and you can foam at the mouth all you want, I'm not changing my mind. Second of all, did you forget that NAMI can drink people under the table too?? Zoro does canonically have a very friendship/sibling-like dynamic with Nami. They argue and fight, but they care about each other. If there is anyone who would make sense as a headcanon of one of Nami's close friends? Zoro would be a candidate. Usopp I would argue would be a better option, but Zoro also makes sense. Third of all, Sanji spends all day cooking (often cooking SEAFOOD) in a three piece suit and then smoking like a chimney. He may shower more frequently than Zoro but I assure you he doesn't smell like a rose garden either. You also can't be a cook if you shy away from a little elbow grease and sweat. Getting dirty for your craft is something he understands. He also has atrocious fashion sense when it comes to clothes that are not suits and he's a lil crazy in the same way all the strawhats are but he hides it well. Sanji is a ridiculous man and I like him that way. Stop it.

2. Sanji isn't some fainting flower, and it annoys me that this person was trying to paint him that way as if it's a forgone conclusion. Their argument was that he screams at bugs, and they were using it as an argument on why Sanji is apparently a babygirl who could never top anyone (why in the world does sex position even play a factor here??). They also pinpointed that Sanji wears suits and swoons at women as a reason why he's likely not gonna top anyone and is gonna remain a virgin. Admittedly I stopped reading at that point bc I made the executive decision to block the person for my own peace of mind, so I perhaps misunderstood (I barely understood the argument in the first place) but I still don't see how any of these factors have anything to do with sex position, or a sexual relationship not working with zosan. I'm all for asexual zosan. But y'all need to stop treating Sanji like some frail twink. That man is badass. He has a strong enough kick to kill a man, his leg catches on fire, he can fucking fly, he gives as good as he gets when it comes to his interactions with Zoro, he survived years and years of abuse from his family and came out a kindhearted person with principles. He is strong af. Again. STOP. IT.

3. None of those reasons for why they wouldn't have sex make sense to me because they operate under an assumption that Sanji would find Zoro gross so obvi they wouldn't have sex. The person fundamentally misunderstood that most people who like zosan aren't there bc they want smut, they're there because Zoro and Sanji are equal and opposites and they understand each other in a very fundamental way from the moment they met. Yes, their relationship is antagonistic, but in the way that Brogy and Dorry are set up in that one episode. If you understand that, then you get that when it comes to rivals, when it comes to their competition and their interactions with each other, Sanji wouldn't give a shit about avoiding getting his hands dirty. That is not the type of person he is. Zoro is his one exception in that sense. He has etiquette and acts like a refined gentleman, and then Zoro issues a challenge and Sanji is there, IMMEDIATELY ready and willing to throw down. He swoons over women, Zoro says anything and IMMEDIATELY Sanji's attention is all on Zoro. I have to wonder if this person even fucking watched the show before deciding to pass a bunch of unfounded judgements.

Alright, rant done.

#zosan #sanzo #one piece #one piece nami #one piece usopp #roronoa zoro #blackleg sanji #cat burglar nami #god usopp #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro

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cozage · 8 months

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Hi cozage,

Congrats for 2k!!!🤧💖

SO, I was thinking about how Sabo would confess his feelings for his beloved one, or like, SHE would confess first? Being so oblivious and occupied with work like he is, maybe isn't crazy imagine that happening 👀✨

I loved the silent treatment one with him lol, I don't see a lot of imagines with him, I miss it rsrsrs

Thanks for lighting up my day with your stories 💖

Thank you! Writing Sabo is always fun, I enjoyed this one a lot :)

Characters: gn reader x Sabo Total word count: 1k

Subtle Realization

You knew you liked Sabo. You found him attractive from the moment you met him. But the second in command of the revolutionary army wasn’t as obvious with his feelings towards you.

You worked closely with him for weeks, a constant battle between hot and cold emotions from him. Sometimes, he asked about your day, your likes and dislikes, and many other things. Other days, he only barked out orders. It was confusing, to say the least. But there were a few moments that made you realize he was actually paying attention.

One morning, you were running late to a meeting, and you fully expected everyone to be pissed at you. You didn’t even have time to stop at your favorite bagel shop and grab breakfast.

But when you slipped into the meeting beside Sabo, he handed you a bagel with cream cheese and your favorite tea.

“How’d you know?” you whispered.

“I always see you there.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d just get your order for you since you weren't there this morning. That’s what friends do.”

Friends. That pesky word that he loved so much. He may have done one of the kindest things he had ever done for you- for anyone- but you were still just friends.

It was only a few days later when he asked you to dinner.

“We’re both working late, and you’ve been working so hard, I just thought it would be nice to go somewhere and talk away from work.”

“Sure.” Your voice was monotone, but your heartbeat quickened at the thought of the two of you at dinner. Alone.

It was a nice restaurant, far fancier than what you had dressed for, but Sabo complimented how lovely you looked, and the two of you had a fabulous time.

He learned about your past, and you learned about his-what he could remember of it, at least. He paid for dinner and even walked you back to your little cramped living space, like a true gentleman.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said. “Would you like to come in for a bit? It’s not much, but-”

“Oh no,” Sabo said quickly. “Dinner was lovely. We should do it again sometime.”

Were you reading too much into his words? Or was he trying to insinuate that he was feeling something more?

You smiled, trying not to let too much excitement show. “I’d like that quite a lot.”

“As would I.” He tipped his hat to you. “Since we’re coworkers, I think it’s important we get to know each other as much as possible.”

Coworkers. Somehow, it was worse than friends. You tried not to let your disappointment show, but once you slipped into your room, you couldn’t help but burst into tears.

A few weeks later, you were grumbling about your roommate. The set up was atrocious, and while you weren’t much of a complainer, your roommate and living space were both worthy of complaining about.

“Why don’t you just move in with me?” Sabo asked, not even bothering to look up from his writing.

You stared at him for a few moments. Surely you had heard him wrong. “What?”

“Move in with me,” he said again. “You already stay here well past midnight. Sometimes you even crash on the couch. I have a spare room. You should move in.”

You scoffed. “I can’t just move in, Sabo. Its-”

“Why not?” he asked, finally looking up at you. “It wouldn’t be much different than now. Nothing would change except where you call home.”

Home. With Sabo. Surely you were setting yourself up for heartbreak here. But you agreed.

Three days later, you moved in with him. And while you still referred to each other as coworkers or friends, you also went home together. You cooked dinner together. You shared a bathroom, and worked in the study together.

You never had a break from him, but you didn’t mind. In fact, on your off days, the two of you often went and did something together. You read books together and talked about them over dinner. You went on walks, and trained, and only when you said goodnight did the two of you go your separate ways. Sabo to the room on the left, and you to the room on the right.

It was awkward at first, but you quickly found a way to cohabitate. Cooking and cleaning was infinitely more fun with Sabo by your side, and he laughed a lot more in your presence.

Ten months after you first met him, he finally came to the realization.

You were sitting at dinner, just the two of you. You had made pasta, and you had managed to get some sauce on your face while the two of you were eating.

Without thinking, Sabo leaned over and gently wiped it from your chin, and suddenly the entire world simultaneously flipped on its head and made so much sense.

“Oh,” Sabo whispered, still staring at the place where the sauce had been. “I think I could do this forever with you.”

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest, you were certain he could hear it.

“What do you mean?” you whispered, scared to be hopeful.

His eyes darted up to yours. “I think I love you. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Sabo-” you breathed out, but he lunged across the table, connecting his lips with yours.

He pulled away far too soon, afraid he had ruined one of the only friendships he actually cared about.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I know you might not feel the same way. I just realized and had to tell you.”

Part of you was certain this was a dream. But if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“I feel the same,” you assured him. “I just wasn’t sure if you would ever…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

He gave you a slightly devious smile, leaning back across the table to give you another kiss. “Well I do. And we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

For the first time since you moved in, the two of you didn’t go separate ways for bed.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #cozage #✧˚sabo✧˚

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lokischocolatefountain · 9 months

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Secret || Mister Miller

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Warnings: No outbreak, huge age gap, infidelity in later chapters, voyeurism, creepy Joel, masturbation (male and female), bfd!Joel)

Word count: 1.3k words

Summary: Your shameful secret you keep from your boyfriend is not such a secret after all. Your boyfriend’s dad Joel Miller knows what you do…very intimately.

A/N: I don’t know what’s with me writing all this hefty age gap Joel fics with dark themes… I need to be lobotomised. Or I should go back to writing more sweet husband!Javi fics… I’m planning on making this a three parter or maybe even five… Let me know where you’d like to see this go.

Checking once again if he was asleep, you slipped out of his bed. Laptop, phone and headphones in hand, you made your way out of his room, making sure to be very quiet when shutting the door. It had become something of a routine since you started dating. He was good, better than some boyfriends you had in the past who wouldn’t even last five minutes. He treated you well, asked you what you liked in bed and took your advice. Which was why you felt guilty each time you escaped his room in the night to take care of yourself in the living room.

Your parents were on a summer vacation of their own, a long road trip to visit distant cousin you knew fuck all about. You would’ve gone even though you didn’t want to. But Matt begged you to come with him to stay in Texas for the summer. It was an attractive idea— you’d never been to his part of Texas before and you knew you’d miss him a lot. But you didn’t want to inconvenience him or his dad. Thankfully, Mr. Miller was kind and opened his doors to you and his son for the summer.

In return, you helped around the house. He never asked. But he was a busy man. A single dad to Matt and his sister Sarah since their mother left, being busy was his normal state of being. He was the owner of a small construction company he ran with the help of his brother.

Before getting up to your secret nightly activity, you headed to the kitchen and began doing the dishes. Matt cooked well, but he was atrocious with cleaning up. So you did that. It was also to somewhat reduce the guilt that built up in you for hiding things from him. When finished with the dishes, you settled on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table.

Your hand played with your necklace out of habit. Tracing the M of the pendant attached to the necklace Matt gave you for your anniversary. You dropped it, guilt searing your thumb in the M shape of the pendant for doing this without his knowledge.

Shame hit you right as the website loaded, images appeared of naked women posed amidst naked men for video thumbnails. Each provided you a glimpse into the kind of degrading activity each actress engaged in for you to get off in shame. Your eyes caught a thumbnail of a man— older, broad, muscular with a girl your age. You hovered the cursor over the image and it provided you a short peek into what was inside- the man, his hand gripping her hair and pounding into her hard and fast as her face contorted in pleasure. You didn’t care that it was all fake, that the actress probably didn’t even feel good.

You clicked on the video and skipped the poorly acted introduction to get to the good part. Headphones in and volume on high, hand inside your shorts as you touched yourself, you didn’t know you weren’t the only voyeur in the room.

Having come downstairs to fetch himself some water, Joel had noticed you crouching in between his couch and coffee table with your laptop playing something downright filthy. He should’ve walked away, given you your privacy. But goddamn it, you let out a sweet little whine, barely audible and his feet glued themselves to the ground.

It was also because of how uncharacteristic it was of you to do something like this. He’d known you for a while now and you’d always been sweet. Too sweet for his son, if you asked him to be honest. You were slightly older than Matt, having begun your Masters with a little bit of a break after your Bachelors. You were a good influence on him, he’d say. But clearly his son hadn’t been good to you, if he had to go by how you were touching yourself to porn in his living room.

Now, he knew it was wrong. No decent man would be aroused at the sight of his son’s girl getting herself off. But you were on his living room floor, using his wifi and you sounded gorgeous making those little whines and whimpers. If he had to guess the sort of thing you liked—and he never thought of such a thing before—it would be one of those erotic novels with shirtless men on the cover. Not this. Not videos of a man who fucked a girl like she was nothin’, picked her up and threw her around and brought his hand down on her to make her stay put and take whatever he gave her.

He put his hand down his sweatpants, just as you had yours down those little shorts you wore around his house. He couldn’t see anything of you. Just the back of your head. For Joel, that was enough. Just knowing that this innocent little thing was getting off on watching a man use a girl like that was enough.

Eyes fixed on you, he stroked his cock, imagining he had a nice wet cunt around it instead of his hand. The man on your screen had the girl pushed against a wall as he pounded into her, her eyes rolled back into her skull and she had her lips parted, presumably moaning in false enthusiasm for the man.

He’d been starved for too long. There was no other explanation for why he felt good watching that fake shit, especially so far away from the screen and with no audio.

He screwed his eyes shut as he got close, imagining himself as the man in the screen, getting to fuck a pretty thing like that. A girl on his bed, against his wall, on her knees with his cock drilling into her holes. He imagined that his hand, large and callused from decades of hard labor, around a pretty throat. Holding it along with a necklace with a gold M pendant dangling off of it. Her eyes rolled back and her lips— your lips — parted as you struggled to breathe. He leaned against the wall as his knees weakened, the image of you in his head strong as he stroked himself. You on his bed, you against his wall, you on your knees for him— and with a whimper he hid by biting down on his lip, he came. White hot cum coated his hand and fuck, what a waste when it’d look so pretty on you.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

He took one last look at you before rushing back upstairs to his room. On the way, he checked if Matt’s door was still closed. It was.

He’d been starved too long. That was all. Nothing else. He’d done too long without a girl and you were the nearest one, cleaning up after his son and wishing him a “Good Morning, Mister Miller” every morning and asking “How was your day, Mister Miller?” when they sat together to eat whatever Matt cooked. It was just proximity.

There was no other explanation.

He’d been…active in his youth. That’s how he had two kids at an age where he was supposed to be a kid himself. But things died down later. Perils of parenting and a contracting business. There were women. Fleeting relationships and even more fleeting fuck buddies who’d all gone off to be with someone else. Now, there was just work. Hell, the last time he picked up a pretty thing at a bar was Tess.

Tess. That was it.

He decided he would give her a call, see if she still had the habit of cheatin’ on that useless husband of hers. Get rid of the images of you in his head with images of Tess.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #joel miller x you #bfd!joel #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x oc #joel miller age gap #joel miller smut #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #all that i've inflicted on the world

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luneariann · 1 year

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Bsd headcanons!

- Kouyou, 27 yr as of current canon

- Kouyou started dressing in traditional clothing in an effort to seem older/inspire more respect when she first became an executive, and it stuck. now instructs all the people under her wing to do the same

- Actually a huge fan of romance novels, Chuuya started reading them cuz of her

- Tea snob

- WILL judge you to your face in the most convoluted language, you will only realize you were insulted in like three business days

- She has freckles but she covers them up w makeup, Yosano loves them

- Yosano, 27 yr old

- When she was first adopted by Fukuzawa she tried doing things she thought kids her age did in an effort to feel more "normal" it didn't rly work

- Has won scariest ADA member four years in a row, shes both very proud of that title and very protective of it, actively does scarier shit once the elections come back around each year

- Wine snob!

- Veryyy blunt, she got it from Ranpo (Fukuzawa would call him a bad influence except he theyre both saying what hes thinking so)

- Dazai, 26

- Has tried to be a plant dad to win a bet w Ranpo, failed miserably, none of his plants are alive but theyre all lovingly named anyway, he talks to their decomposing corpses sometimes

- The worst fashion sense known to man, he KNOWS how to dress he just makes the active choice to dress like a bowling alley carpet when given the chance

- When Atsushi made him a friendship bracelet and he had to be excused to go to the bathroom and compose himself

- Hes Yokohamas local cryptid

- Chuuya, 26

- Loves romance novels, its his greatest secret

- Dazai gave him a bunch of plants as a surprise gift during his brief plant dad phase, he frantically learned everything he could abt them so he could take care of them properly

- He cuts his own hair, yes it is uneven on purpose, he thinks he looks cool (he does, but only because hes Chuuya so he can pull off literally anything) (yes i am biased why do you ask)

- Fantastic cook

- Piercings <333 he would get a tattoo but he doesnt rly do well with needles (cough trauma cough)

- Atsushi, 18

- Had a "sleepover" with Kyouka when he realized neither of them had ever had one, it was great they did eachothers nails and watched romcoms together, Kyouka decided she didnt really like them but Atsushi did so they watched them anyways

- Made everyone friendship bracelets one time on said "sleepover"!

- ALSO has an atrocious fashion sense, its Dazais influence <//3

- Kyouka has made it her personal mission to fix his haircut over time (he cuts his hair with kitchen scissors, she was horrified when she saw)

- Akutagawa, 19

- a full on trad goth, he goes simple for work tho

- Hes a gatekeeper, sorry yall </3

- Carries around an umbrella in the sunlight cuz he burns rly rly easily

- Gets cold REALLY easily too

- The most socially inept man you will ever meet, Gin had to cover for him A LOT when they were children

- When he first realized he felt something for Atsushi he not only did not realize that his heart speeding up around him was a crush thing, but thought it was excitement for a fight, so he just ended up challenging him to an absurd amount of fights, going as far as to go to the ADA to pick fights

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thunder-point · 14 days

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Long ramble ahead

I've talked a bit about some things I liked, and mostly qotey, but I mentioned already that I adore phumpeem also, and this episode just spurred my love for their dynamic even more BECAUSE

THIS REACTION???????

THIS ONE AS WELL???

HOLD UP SOMEONE HOLD ME SOMEONE HOLD PHUM'S UNSTABLE ASS

For the love of everything on this planet I LOVED LIVED BREATHED FOR IT.

Not only because I adored how positive it was on both ends, but because of the differences and the genuine quality it gave me. The kiss was absolutely delightful, once again pondphuwin just delivered on that aspect, as they did throughout the entirely of Never Let Me Go.

BUT LISTEN Y'ALL

I just????? Fucking love???? HOW DIFFERENT PHUM AND PEEM EXPRESS THEIR LIKE TOWARDS EAC H OTHER

First of all I don't know how others feel about phum's character. Personally, I enjoy it very much. He has very visible flaws, emotional constipation in some aspects, but those in some way give way for other moments that just express how free he is with his feelings.

Because he likes Peem, and this episode he expressed it so openly that it gave me LIFE.

We don't know much about Phum yet, but he seems to have a complicated relationship with his parents. It gives the feelings that he lacked the affection he needed in the past. That, of course, leads to the attitude of seeking it so selfishly like he does with Peem.

And it's enjoyable to watch. He's a needy asshole, he's arrogant and he's attractive and he's attracted to Peem and he doesn't let ANY chance slip to get that attention that he wants. And even if it started in a rough way in the beginning, I genuinely think it's mostly because, for the most part, some people who never really had the attention they needed resort to getting it in very obnoxious manners later on. Phum is doing exactly that.

There are many things to talk about when it comes to Phum, and I hope that as the series goes on we get more from him, and good things while we are at it, but I just love how his crush developed. I loved that as soon as he realized he truly fucked up, he apologized THREE times, I love how remorseful he's looking in episode 6 when Peem's ruined painting is mentioned.

And I absolutely love how blunt he is with his feelings for Peem. He doesn't waste any time in episode 6. Not even caring if his friends catch on, if Peem's friends catch on. My man Phum is on a mission and he is RELENTLESS.

I think it gives me so much joy because they could have totally made a character like Phum, who is prideful and stubborn, hide his feelings behind teasing and this 'you are my slave' act that he puts forward. But instead, we got the softest smiles from him after the kiss. We got him coming into the art gallery TO TAKE PICTURES, TO START A CONVERSATION ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED.

We got him calling Peem adorable and pleading Peem to draw on a cup with him. He just wants LOVE. He wants it and as soon as he saw Peem reciprocated in some way it's like it exploded from him. And there's so much to say about it. God.

But Peem? Listen, I love it even more on Peem's side.

Not only did this man INITIATE THE FIRST KISS, the way he's processing these emotions are so funny AND SO REAL.

I loved it from the very beginning that we see that Peem is attracted by Phum as much as he's incensed with him. He admitted it - Phum is handsome, but he's an asshole. And that's real. As someone who fell for a person who I bickered with a lot at first, I had such joy watching Peem's way through his bond with Phum and how it developed.

Because Phum has his bad sides, and he seems to bring them up around Peem for that attentions and reactions it gets him, but when Phum goes soft? That's when his attractiveness and his personality clash in a way that seems to make Peem WEAK.

"You're so demanding, Peem," said softly had Peem BY THE THROAT. And I felt that.

Phum apologizing so softly, Phum eating Peem's atrocious cooking. Peem? Absolutely GONE for it. And that's certainly such a rushing feeling to have. Peem is clearly not experienced with relationships, and that just makes the fact that he initiated the kiss SO MUCH BETTER.

Because we know that he's not scared of showing his emotions. Even if he's a people pleaser, he's not a pushover. He kicked Phum's balls back into his goddamn body as soon as he had the chance. HE THREW A CHANCLA AT HIM.

Him going for the kiss when he felt the need to MAKES SENSE. it's wonderful.

And don't get me started on how often my man seemed to fantasize back to those soft moments with Phum. Don't get me started ON HIS CONVERSATION WITH Q this episode about affection and relationships and FUCK. Don't get me started on his gay panicked ass.

that's a ramble for another post. I feel like this is already too long and too incoherent. I jumped from so many topics but I have so many feelings for these two. As many as I have for Qtoey.

#phumpeem #we are the series #pondphuwin #we are #bl thai drama #thai bl

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stillarat · 1 year

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KONIG RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

ft. GN!reader

Warnings: none

debated actually asking you out in his head for about 30 minutes, he managed eventually but was incredibly nervous to come off as weird or creepy

would probably take you to a nice breakfast place, pretty damn nervous he fumbles his sentences sometimes especially if he's talking to you in english

he doesn't stutter when he's nervous but he does ramble

foots the bill on the date, he asked and would feel like a dick if he didn't treat you when he asked you out

asks you to go on a walk after, and man he has them long strides you might have to ask him to slow down but its nice either way. ends up taking you down this nature path, kind of more of a hike

turns out he likes bird watching, he has bird facts

ask him his bird facts.

but seriously he has a journal with pictures he's taken, he'll show you. just don't expect to be able to read his notes

his hand writing is atrocious

if you end up joining him, guy is in heaven really. just you, him in a quiet corner of the park listening to the song birds

later in the relationship you'll probably see how much Konig likes doing little things for you, washing dishes when its your day, making you coffee or tea in the morning, he just really likes being useful to you

loves cooking for you too, and frankly hes incredible at it

probably ends up making you a lot of traditional austrian food, might call up his grandmother if he can't remember a recipe

makes breakfast in bed for you just because he can, no special occasion he just likes letting you know you're loved and cared for

always a bit iffy with pda don't get me wrong he has no problem with hugging, holding your hand, or putting an arm over your shoulder but anything more than a small peck is alot for him

that being said very much enjoys cuddling in private, he likes to feel as close as possible to you when he's free from his missions its not exactly an easy job so he really does enjoy the domesticity at home

while he always tries his best to be considerate he can end up being pretty messy, its not uncommon to see alot of his clothes piled up beside the hamper inside of in it

and his shoes are just everywhere?? like one is by the couch but one is also in under the bed

no he does not know how it got there either

#konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig mw2 #mw2 #mw2 x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #gn reader #mw2 headcanons #könig headcanons #könig x reader

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violet-1atte · 6 months

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Kinktober Day Twenty-Six: Masturbation - Jisung/Minho

Tags: Fingering, getting caught, roommates, voyeurism

AO3 Link

When Jisung had first learned that he was going to get a new roommate for the next semester, he was a little nervous. He had been rooming with Chan for the past year and now he had graduated, so Jisung was left to find a new roommate. Chan thankfully knew of someone who was just a year below him and in need of a roommate so Jisung agreed they could room together. He felt a little less nervous after knowing he would be with someone who Chan knew because he trusted the elder with his life, even though he had an atrocious sleep schedule.

What he hadn’t expected was for Chan’s friend to be so hot . Lee Minho. The hottest man Jisung had ever laid eyes on. He was a walking wet dream. When he walked in the door, Jisung nearly got on his knees right then and there. He had a perfectly sculpted face–high cheekbones, a perfect nose, and a jawline one could cut marble with–and a rosebud pink mouth, and eyes that pierced through Jisung’s soul. He was clearly well built, with hard lines of muscle and prominent veins going up from his hands to his forearms. Jisung wanted to bite him.

Not only was he hot, but he was also the funniest–albeit weirdest–and sweetest person he had ever met. He took care of him, cooked for him, and he loved cats, and put up with all of his rants about random topics that didn’t even make sense half the time. Jisung was a weak man and Minho seemed to hit all of his weaknesses square on the nose. He wanted him in every way possible, but as far as he knew, Minho wasn’t interested, even when their friendship got to the point of hanging out with each other at every waking moment. His friends said he was in denial, but he informed them that they were reading into things.

An unfortunate outcome of living with a man who looked like he was straight out of a kdrama and had also made his way into Jisung’s life as his best friend was the incessant horniness. He had never gotten off so much in his entire life. He burned with shame every time he thought about Minho like that–above him, touching him, kissing him, fucking him . But his need always overrode the shame and he ended up touching himself to those thoughts anyway, coming with loud cries of Minho’s name.

And that’s where he found himself one evening after Minho had left to go to his evening class. They shared a bedroom so Jisung always waited for him to be gone from their apartment or he got himself off quickly in the shower. Now he had a whole hour of free time and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

Minho had looked especially good that day. When Jisung was crawling out of bed with messed up hair, Minho was returning from the gym, wearing nothing but some baggy shorts and a tight black tank top. His arms were bulging with muscle and his veins were even more prominent from his recent workout. And then he showered and left the bathroom with only a towel on, and Jisung nearly died right then and there. Somehow, he continued to look progressively more attractive even as he got dressed, putting on a lavender turtleneck that hugged his arms and torso and made him look so pretty he could have cried. It was too much.

So now Jisung was here, two fingers deep in his ass, lube dripping down his thighs from the ridiculous amount he had used. Next to him on the bed was a dildo, one big enough to make him sore the next day. His chest was pressed against the bed, ass in the air, and he muffled his moans against the bed as he pumped his fingers in and out of himself. He imagined his finger’s were Minho’s. They could probably reach so much deeper than his did. Jisung’s fingers never did enough, but he knew just by the amount of times he had stared at Minho’s hands that he would be able to fill him up so well with those alone.

He slipped in a third finger after a moment, moaning out a whiny, “Minho,” as he did so. He imagined Minho behind him, holding his waist, digging his fingers into his soft, sensitive skin. He imagined Minho calling him pretty as he stuffed his hole with three fingers and pressed them against his prostate. Jisung’s body jerked at the mere thought.

He spread his fingers and mewled at the stretch. It was good but it wasn’t enough . He needed more, needed it desperately. He needed Minho’s touch, Minho’s cock.

“Please, please, fuck me,” he whimpered helplessly against the sheets. No one responded, but he had an active imagination. He could almost hear Minho, his overly sweet, teasing voice echoing inside his head. “So desperate and needy, hm? You really need my cock that bad, jagi?”

Jisung moaned and nodded. He pumped his fingers inside himself a couple times and gasped when he just barely brushed against his prostate. “Yes, Minho-hyung, I need you so bad .” He bit his lip as he began to push his pinky finger against his rim to fill himself up with four fingers. The stretch burned a bit but it wasn’t his first time doing it. He let himself adjust for a moment before his began fucking himself like that.

The stretch felt good but he couldn’t get deep enough. He let out a huff of frustration and removed his fingers. He was stretched enough. He could take the dildo now. It wasn’t a real cock but he could close his eyes and pretend it was Minho he was riding.

He positioned himself on his knees and placed the dildo against his hole. He bit his lip as he began to sink down on it and a whimper caught in his throat. It stretched his hole more than even his four fingers could and by the time he’d fully sat on it he was already breathless. He raised him on shaky legs and then dropped his hips. His mouth fell open in a moan and he closed his eyes, letting the pleasure warming his stomach take over his senses. He imagined Minho in front of him, holding his hips as he rode him. He imagined him kissing his neck, praising him with his soft lips pressed against him. Jisung shuddered.

“ Hyungg ,” he whined. A drop of sweat ran down his face. “Minho, Minho.” Minho’s name spilled from his mouth like a desperate prayer. He wanted him so bad it hurt. He was so fucking desperate, so needy. He needed Minho. Minho, Minho, Minho.

He was so lost in the pleasure twisting in his stomach and filling his head with a pleasant buzz that he didn’t notice the sound of the front door opening. He didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the door, or the creak of the door as it opened. His own moans and Minho’s name were the only sounds his ears registered. That was until the subject of his fantasies started to speak, clearly not paying much attention either.

“So apparently my professor canceled class and decided to just not tell, so I went all the way–oh shit.”

Jisung’s eyes shot open and he snapped his head to the side to see Minho standing in the doorway, completely frozen in shock. His bag slipped from his hand. Jisung stopped all his movement and then rushed to move off the dildo and pull a pillow over his lap.

“Hyung!” he exclaimed, cheeks aflame. “I-I thought you were going to be gone.”

“I was!” Minho said back, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry I–” he paused and his eyebrows furrowed. “Were you saying my name?”

Jisung’s stomach sank. Oh fuck . Minho had just seen him getting himself off. While saying his name . And he heard . He felt tears spring to his eyes and his entire body burned. “I–I’m so sorry, hyung. I was—I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d hear. Oh no, now you’re uncomfortable. I’m so so sorry , you must be so disgusted, I can leave. I’m so sorry, Minho-hyung.” He didn’t even realize he had started crying until he saw the droplets begin to fall onto his pillow. He buried his face into his hands as his chest heaved with a sob.

“What? No– no , Jisung-ah, stop that, don’t cry. Shit.” Suddenly Minho was beside him and he was immediately enveloped in his scent, which somehow managed to comfort him even in this situation. “I’m not disgusted at all–really jagi, I promise. Hey come on, look at me.”

Jisung hesitantly removed his hands from his face and tilted his head up to look at Minho. He didn’t look disgusted with him at all. In fact, Jisung couldn’t even read his facial expression. But he didn’t look upset.

“There you are,” Minho said softly. He cupped Jisung’s cheeks and brushed his tears away. “I promise I’m not upset at all. Quite the opposite.”

Jisung wasn’t sure his brain was working properly. “Huh?”

“You really are so dense,” Minho huffed, but there was no bite behind his words. “I’m not disgusted because I like you, Jisungie. In fact I’m kind of ecstatic that you were just getting off saying my name. I’d be hard right now if you weren’t crying.”

Jisung’s eyes went comically wide and his jaw dropped. “You–you– what? ” he gasped eloquently. “You’re not disgusted? And you like me too? Please tell me I’m not dreaming, hyung.”

Instead of responding, Minho pulled his face closer and pressed his lips to his. Jisung squeaked but quickly melted into the kiss. He closed his eyes and committed to memory every detail–the softness of Minho’s lips, the taste of his chapstick, the smell of his cologne filling his lungs, the gentle touch of his hands on his cheeks. He never wanted to forget this.

When Minho pulled away, Jisung stared at him, starstruck. “That give you enough of an answer?” he asked with a playful smirk.

“Oh my gosh,” Jisung breathed. “Holy shit. Wow.”

“Yeah, so… You’ve got nothing to worry about. I didn’t mind one bit.” Minho smiled and Jisung felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Ugh, that’s still so embarrassing though…” he whined. “I can’t believe you walked in on me like that.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, jagi,” Minho said softly. Jisung felt a chill run up his spine. “Actually…you know… I wouldn’t mind if you finished. There’s definitely more I want to do to you now that our feelings are out in the open, but I liked what I saw. And I kinda want to watch.”

Jisung’s blood rushed south so fast he felt almost dizzy. Arousal pooled in his stomach and he licked his lips. “I think–I think I could do that,” he said bashfully. Minho grinned and Jisung’s stomach swooped.

“Yeah? How bout I sit back then while you touch yourself. Then I’ll touch you more if you’re still up for it.”

Jisung nodded quickly, his arousal already making thinking difficult. “Yes, yeah. Sounds good. Can you um–can you kiss me again first? Please?”

“Of course my Jisungie,” Minho said with a sweet smile. Jisung’s heart nearly melted.

Minho grabbed his jaw and directed him to tilt his head so he could slot their lips together. Jisung moaned against his mouth as he squeezed his jaw and Minho slipped his tongue inside. Jisung couldn’t hold back his whimpers and Minho swallowed down every one of them as he kissed him deep. So deep. And with more passion and feeling than Jisung had ever experienced in a kiss. It was like he poured all his feelings into a single searing kiss and it was almost too much.

When Minho pulled away, Jisung was back to full hardness again. Minho smiled at him and pecked his lips once more. “Good?” he asked.

“Mhm, perfect,” Jisung mumbled. Minho moved back and Jisung hesitantly removed the pillow from his lap. He swallowed thickly at the weight of Minho’s gaze on him as he went to pick up his dildo again and grabbed the lube. His hands shook as he uncapped the bottle and squirted a decent amount onto the silicon.

“Wh-what do you want me to do, hyung-ah?” he asked, his voice small.

“Just touch yourself like you were before. I wanna see how you make yourself feel good while you think about me.” Jisung shuddered and nodded. He considered for a second that maybe Minho wanted to observe him to see what he liked. And that made him burn hotter.

He positioned the dildo underneath himself like he had before and carefully sank down. He was still fully stretched but that didn’t take away from the pleasurable feeling of getting stuffed full again. He squeezed his eyes shut as he lowered his ass down until he bottomed out. He let out a shaky sigh that bordered on a moan as he let himself adjust. He heard Minho shuffling and then he spoke up.

“Want you to open your eyes, jagiyah,” he said. “I want you to look at me.”

Jisung inhaled and opened his eyes. Seeing Minho was like a punch to the gut in the best way, because how had he already gotten so worked up? He was just as red as Jisung probably was, maybe even redder, and he was looking at Jisung like he could eat him. “Hyung,” he whined and Minho licked his lips, going to palm himself through his pants.

“Come on, Jisung-ah. I know you must be worked up. So go on. Be a good boy and fuck yourself on your dildo for me,” he instructed. A knot tightened in Jisung’s stomach and he let out an obscene moan at just his words. Fuck.

“O-okay,” he whimpered. He grabbed hold of the base of the dildo and lifted his hip so that he could begin fucking down onto it. It was so much easier to imagine it was Minho’s cock with him right there, watching him with hooded eyes. Still, he couldn’t wait until it was the real thing. He needed to feel Minho, hot and pulsing inside of him.

His thighs quivered as he slammed back down on the dildo and tilted it just right so that it hit his prostate. The knot in his stomach tightened and he let out a strangled moan. “Mm-Minho-yah,” he moaned, his mouth going slack. Minho started undoing his belt and slipped his hand into his pants, and in response Jisung picked up his pace. He was so desperate from not getting his release before Minho came in and now with Minho actually there everything felt so much more intense.

“How’s it feel?” Minho asked and Jisung could hear the strain in his voice.

Jisung’s breath hitched and his hole clenched around the dildo. “F-feels soo good, nghh, just wan’ it to be your c-cock,” he hiccuped. Minho hissed and the sound made him feel giddy.

“Fuck, Jisung. You’ll get my cock, I want to fuck you so bad. Make yourself come first though. Then I’ll take care of you so well, my sweet boy,” he promised.

Jisung nodded vigorously and put more focus into coming. His thighs burned but he still bounced on the fake cock with as much energy as he could muster. He tried to thrust up to meet the rolls of his hips but it was a bit difficult with the angle. He needed more.

He took in a shuddering breath and wrapped his free hand around his cock as he fucked himself on the dildo. His needy moans, keens, and sighs filled the room. Precum dripped down his cock in little droplets which made the slide of his hand easier but it was also a little embarrassing that he was turned on so much. Luckily, Minho didn’t seem to mind, especially with how his eyes moved to the motion of Jisung’s hand over his dick.

His orgasm was steadily approaching as he continued touching himself. Pleasure curled in his stomach at the combined stimulation and when he looked over at Minho again his mind reeled. His heated gaze scorched Jisung’s skin. He wanted him so badly it hurt.

“ Please , Minho-hyung, please, I need to come,” he whimpered. His cheeks burned and he knew he probably looked like a disheveled mess, but Minho was still staring at him like he was the epitome of beauty and sex. He’d never felt so wanted.

“Come for me, jagi,” Minho said, his voice rough. Jisung wanted to hear it over and over again.

The pleasure melting Jisung’s insides built up quicker than he anticipated. His moans became more frequent and in between each sound he muttered, “Minho, Minho, Minho.” Minho held his gaze the whole time, his hand moving over his cock in his pants in time with Jisung’s thrusts. And when Minho moaned softly with one particular twist of his wrist, the knot in Jisung’s stomach came undone. “Ohhh f-fuckk , hyung!” Jisung exclaimed. His jaw dropped and he choked on a moan as his hole spasmed around the dildo and his cock spilled cum all over his hand. The corners of his vision went black for a second and he shook like a leaf throughout the entire thing. His orgasm wracked his entire body and it felt like he was coming for ages, even if it had only been a few seconds. Minho’s eyes never left him.

When he was completely finished, Jisung let out a soft groan and crumpled up on the bed from exhaustion. Holy shit.

“Goodness, Jisung-ah. My Jisungie.” Minho got up from where he had been watching and moved to Jisung’s side. He brushed Jisung’s sweaty hair out of his face and cupped his heated cheek. “That was so fucking hot. Shit, you’re so hot. I loved that. Did you, love?”

“Mhmm,” Jisung nodded softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the nickname. “I did. Was so good, hyungie.”

“I’m glad.” He brushed his thumb over Jisung’s lip and he took it into his mouth. He swirled the tongue around the digit and Minho inhaled sharply. Jisung couldn’t help but smirk.

“Are you up for more?” Minho asked for a moment. Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest and he swallowed. Getting to have Minho like this was going to take some getting used to.

“Yes, please,” he said eagerly. “Just let me rest for a minute and then you can fuck me for real. Please.”

Minho grinned and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I can’t wait.”

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collecting-stories · 9 months

Text

Peaches & Cream - Carmen Berzatto

Summary: Carmy talks the reader into making family and their relationship takes a turn.

A/N: I don't know if I like this installment as much as the other two but I'm running with it. Also, the actual dessert made is from Carolina Gelen and it's fucking delicious!

The Bear Masterlist

✰✰✰✰

You shook your head slowly back and forth, with what you were almost completely positive was a look of abject horror plastered across your face as your eyes met Carmy's blue ones. If there was one thing, anything, that you absolutely did not under any circumstances want to do it was cook in The Beef's kitchen.

"No."

"It's not like you haven't cooked for everyone out there before," Carmy replied, leaning against the door and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, but like...at my place...not like, seriously," you mirrored his image, leaning back in the office chair and crossing your arms.

Carmy smiled, "family isn't serious." He said it in that way that suggested he'd caught you out. Like you were trying to pull one over on him but he found a loophole at the last second. He looked too triumphant for his own good.

"Cars..." You groaned, there was no way you wanted to do family. When Syd did family it looked like some fucking five star gourmet meal. Even Ebra cooked up some really wonderful food for family. You had cooked at home, sure, but not in Carmy's kitchen. "Fine...but when it's shit-"

"It won't be," he replied and you practically felt the air knocked out of you. As if those three simple words had the power to truly dictate what sort of cook, chef, you were. And maybe they did because you felt ridiculously confident after he said it.

You abandoned the paperwork to the office and followed Carmy into the kitchen. His attention didn't last long, immediately pulled to something else as Tina called him over to taste the potatoes she was working on. Your unexpected entrance into the kitchen didn't go unnoticed by Marcus or Syd or Tina, all three of whom followed you with their eyes as you went to the family shelf. You were positive you looked a little more than unsure of yourself as you pulled ingredients off the shelf, trying to think of a recipe that you could accomplish, that would taste good, and that might impress Carmy.

"What?"

"People don't usually make that face after someone kisses them...unless like, I read the room wrong and I wasn't, or you didn't want me to kiss you," you stammered, eyebrow quirking as you stared at Carmy. Ever since the first Sunday Night Dinner you'd been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Probably ever since he first walked in The Beef and introduced himself to you. And maybe he hadn't been thinking about kissing you for that long but you thought maybe he was thinking about kissing you lately. Or not and you were atrocious at reading what vibe other people were projecting.

"No, no...I mean, I, no, I wanted you to...I wanted to kiss you. I liked it. Ah..." Carmy inhaled, held his breath for a second and then exhaled. "I uh, you taste like peaches. It's like, really fucking wild, just like straight up peaches...like, not like chapstick shit or something but like actual fucking peaches."

"Oh," you stopped yourself from laughing, "I uh, I ate like frozen peaches before you came over." You tried to explain. It was the most bizarre semi-compliment anyone had ever offered after a kiss. Probably in the history of the world.

"Yeah?"

"I was trying this recipe-"

"What was it?" He looked over the back of the couch toward the kitchen as if a plate would be waiting there on the island for him to sample.

"It's nothing fancy," you promised, a regular disclaimer whenever you made something new and let Carmy try it. You got up from the couch as you explained the recipe you'd seen online and had attempted to recreate in your own kitchen before Carmy had come over. Aside from the peach, which was frozen in your freezer, everything else was assembled.

Whipped cream went in the bowl first, then the peach shavings, scrapped off a whole frozen peach like you were zesting a lemon, and then brown sugar syrup that you'd made earlier. In the short time it took you to assemble the dessert, Carmy came over to the island, leaning against the counter and watching you walk.

"Here," you slid the bowl over and handed him a spoon from the utensil holder that sat in the middle of the island. He took it from you, his focus already zeroed in on the dessert sitting before him. The assembly was no five-star NOMA dish but you thought it tasted pretty good earlier and hoped you'd made it just as nicely the second time.

The first time Carmy tried anything you made him your whole body had felt like it was on fire. Burning with nervous anxiety eating at your stomach. Now, you thought you should probably still be nervous but you weren't. Somehow you didn't have any of those nerves anymore. Or at least, they weren't turning over your stomach anymore. Instead it was just excitement, watching him taste the food that you prepared for him.

"Well?"

With little actual warning, Carmy laid his spoon on the counter and leaned forward, kissing you this time instead of the other way around. You kissed him back, your hand moving to hold his face, fingers brushing the curls at the back of his neck. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little dazed as he pulled away from the kiss, blue eyes shining with amusement as he smiled. Like really smiled, you noted.

"Yeah, that's the peach I was tasting." He finally said, taking another bite of the dessert, "fire, by the way."

"Awesome," you stumbled over the word, not entirely sure it was the correct one to encapsulate the moment.

You knew Marcus was hovering over you without needing to turn around, but you did anyway, twisting away from the focaccia bread that you were kneading onto the sheet pan to look up at him. "What?" You asked, unable to stop yourself from smiling when you caught the amused look on his face, "what?"

"You're doing family?"

"Yeah, why...you have a problem with that?" You asked, trying to sound confident.

"No...this looks good," Marcus replied, checking on the focaccia once more before stepping away from you. "What're you making?"

"Chicken parm sandwiches?" You replied, more as a question than a statement. As you slid the pan into the oven Marcus took a once over of the other ingredients on the counter.

"You making your own mozzarella too?" He asked, sounding impressed that you were going to tackle something that complicated.

"I am," you said, pulling a 'can you believe it' face, "Carmy showed me how to a couple weeks ago-"

"Carmy showed you how to?" He replied, the tone of the question teasing.

"Don't you have like...something to do?" You asked, looking back at his station.

You might've spent most of your shift in the back office but you knew that everyone in the kitchen was talking. It started with Richie, way before you and Carmy had kissed. He'd come into the office when you and Carmy were sitting in there and however you both were acting Richie had interpreted it as flirting (which was impressive considering how awkward you and Carmy flirting was). Richie being Richie, spread the news to Tina and Ebra and Sweeps, then Marcus heard about it and Sydney. Even Fak got filled in on the apparent 'romance' that was happening. You suffered through embarrassing comments every time you were remotely close to Carmy in the kitchen until finally everyone pretty much got used to the fact that you were pinning and probably never going to make a move.

Or at least, you hadn't expected to ever make a move. He just looked so good sitting there on your couch and you'd been thinking about him for a long time and you were positive (at least 99% so) that recently he'd been thinking about you the same way. It was a long shot probably, cause Carmy was almost impossible to read unless he was yelling about food, but it worked out.

"Are you doing family?" Syd asked. She was doing checks, purposely saving Marcus for last so she could see what you were up to. She'd seen you come out of the office with Carmy and go over to the family shelf, surprised since you never seemed eager to be anywhere near the kitchen during work hours. (Syd had come back for her headphones once and seen you and Carmy in the kitchen together, generally being cute...which she pointed out to you later on).

"Yeah?" You felt even more unsure of yourself when she asked than you had when Marcus had asked before.

She nodded, looking over the ingredients you had out. "Dope."

"Thanks," you laughed.

You weren't surprised, considering how hectic you knew the kitchen could get, that you didn't actually see Carmy again (aside from glimpses as he moved back and forth from the kitchen to the counter and back) until family. And technically, once you'd plated family and called everyone out to eat, he was nowhere to be found. Richie told you he was having a cigarette around a mouthful of chicken parm sandwich so you plated some for him and carried it outside into the back alley.

Carmy was sitting against the back wall, a plastic container of water in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He had his head tilted back and his eyes closed like he was maybe trying to catch a few seconds of rest before dinner rush.

"Hey," you tapped his shoulder and Carmy started, opening his eyes and looking up at you.

"Hey," he replied, laying down his container of water and taking the plate from you. He balanced it on his knees and picked up the sandwich to look it over. "What've we got?"

"Chicken parm sandwich on pistachio focaccia bread." You replied, "Richie said I was 'going all out'."

Carmy took a bite and you watched as his face change from neutral to slightly pleased. The look you knew meant that he liked something. "This is good, this is really good." He replied earnestly, taking another bite. "Did you make the mozzarella?"

"Does it taste bad?"

"No," he shook his head, looking away from the sandwich and up to you, "you could've kneaded it one more time, it's a little soft."

"I wasn't sure," you admitted, "you'll have to make me mozzarella and tomatoes again and show me how to make it."

He'd shown you last week, when you were at his apartment for a change. He was in the middle of making dinner when he realized he didn't have mozzarella so he decided to make it, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Or at least the most normal thing in Carmy's.

"You heading back inside?" He asked as you reached for the door handle.

"Back to the office, where I belong." You replied.

He waved you back over, tilting his head back to look up at you when you were standing in front of him again. You took the silent invitation and leaned down to kiss him. "I won't taste like peaches this time."

"It's not a stipulation," he joked and you smiled into the kiss.

Eventually, sooner rather than later, you knew everyone in the kitchen would find out that you were dating. Probably everyone outside of the kitchen too, once Fak knew that you were together it was only a matter of time before everyone Carmy had ever met found out that he had someone in his life.

"Okay," you sighed, reluctant to pull away but knowing there was a stack of invoices you needed to look through, "eat your too shitty sandwich and get back to work chef."

"You bossing me around now?" He laughed, stubbing out his cigarette and following you back through the door into the kitchen.

Everyone else had finished eating and were back to their stations. Tina looked over first when the two of you came in and you smiled, "Carmy said it was awful and I'm never allowed in the kitchen again."

"I didn't say it was awful-"

"The mozz was a little soft but the focaccia was insane," Syd pipped up in your defense.

"I didn't say it was awful," Carmy repeated, nudging you with his elbow when you smiled at him.

"He didn't say it was awful," you admitted, "he did say the mozzarella was soft."

"Why you being a fucking hardass about some cheese?" Richie called from the counter, coming over and throwing an arm over your shoulders, "I'm fucking shocked as it is you got this one to go out with you, now you're gonna be insulting?"

Carmy flushed red, whether because of Richie or because of the whistle Sweeps gave at the previously unconfirmed news that the two of you might be something, "can we get back to work chefs?" He finally said, moving away from you and over to one of the stations, grabbing his knife to start prep.

"Guess that's my cue to get back to the office," you joked, slipping out from Richie's arm.

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