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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

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borrowed clothes

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female receiving oral, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of male masturbation, friends to lovers

“rafe, can i borrow your panthers jersey?” you ask, walking into his closet without even waiting for permission.

“you know, you always steal my clothes and never give me any of yours in return.” rafe points out, following you in to the walk in, seeing you already looking through his shirts, trying to find the nfl jersey.

“its sports night, rafe.” you roll your eyes. your favorite bar does themed nights that allow discounted drinks if you come in theme. “you have a million sports things to wear, and i have none.” you remind your best friend.

“all im saying is its unfair.” rafe smiles at you as you find the jersey you were thinking of, knowing his closet better than he does. it’s just a part of being friends for your entire life, best friends.

“okay, here.” you tug your black tshirt off, having planned to wear it underneath rafes jersey, but you can deal with just your bra. rafe looks away from your chest, despite having seen you in just your underwear or swimsuit a million times.

you toss the material at him before tugging the oversized jersey over your head, tucking the front into your tiny miniskirt. “how do i look?” you ask rafe, who is now holding your discarded tshirt in his hand.

rafe nods. “good.” its all he can force himself to say. better than sexy, hot, so good that he wants to bend you over right in the closet and shove that little skirt up and bury his cock in your-

“great!” you smile. “now we gotta find something sporty for you.” you hum, turning back to his closet.

“rafey?” you call, entering tanneyhill without knocking. you haven’t asked permission to enter since you were a child, with rafes house being your second home.

“he’s in the shower.” wheezie calls out from the living room.

“thanks wheez!” you ruffle her hair as you walk past, teasing her like she was your own little sister.

you head up to rafes room, flopping onto the bed as you pull your phone out, waiting for rafe to finish up in the shower, hoping he won’t take too long.

you scroll through tiktok, letting out a yawn with a big stretch, readjusting and sliding your hand under rafes pillow. you frown when realize your fingers graze over a weird material, feeling oddly stiff and not something that belongs on rafes bed.

you sit up, moving the pillow to reveal your black tshirt, now covered in white stains. you frown and move it closer to inspect the fabric, eyes widening when you realize what you are holding in your hands.

your mind moves at a thousand miles a minute, realizing that rafe has been jacking off into your shirt. the implications are clear, the one piece of clothing item that he has of yours, and he uses it to get himself off?

you toss the piece of fabric back down, slamming the pillow back on top of it right as rafe opens the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his waist.

“i-i can explain.”

“f-fuck!” you shout out, rafes head buried in your cunt, tongue lapping over your pussy, finally tasting you like he's long awaited to. “why did it take us so long to do this?”

rafe just smiles against your cunt, glad that he didn't need to give a real explanation as you hopped off the bed and kissed him, realizing that your feelings echoed his after seeing your tshirt, suddenly feeling just as pent up.

“should have just fucked me instead of cumming all over my shirt.” you whine as his tongue flicks over your clit.

“ill buy you a new one.” rafe sucks your clit into his mouth, determined to make you cum. you let out a cry, your high building.

a shiver spreads throughout your body as rafes mouth brings you to orgasm, a scream being forced out of your body, not caring that there are other people in the house that could hear.

“fuck, you taste so good baby.” rafe moans into your cunt, tongue swiping out again until you gently push his head away, not able to take anymore on your sensitive clit.

rafe rises up, draping himself over your body. he gives you a deep kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“i can't believe you were jacking off into my shirt thinking of me.” you giggle.

“oh god, you're never gonna let me forget that, are you?” rafe groans, moving lower to rub his cock between your folds, soaking it in your wetness.

you laugh before it's cut off by rafes lips.

“can i fuck you y/n?” rafe asks, lining himself up with your entrance.

“yeah.” you nod. “yeah, need you.”

“last chance to rethink this. because once i enter you, we can't just be friends anymore.”

“i know, i know.” you peck a kiss to rafes lips. “hurry up and fuck me already.”

rafe smiles down at you as he slowly presses forward, your walls giving way to his thick cock.

“i love you.” rafe admits with a gasp.

“i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x you

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finalgirlmoment · 5 months

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Noteworthy details about the first two PJOTV episodes (spoilers)

First of all, every single of them ATE DOWN. just wanted to throw that out there, i'm so so impressed with the cast, everyone was perfect and gorgeous and i'm completely sat for any and all future installments. A fine piece of media. Let's begin.

Percy's confusion and bewilderment finding out that he's a demigod. "You fell in love with God.... like, Jesus????" LMFAO but seriously his frustration in this moment, thinking there's something actually wrong with his brain, feeling lost and confused and hurt and BROKEN. the struggle in that moment is so relatable to people discovering they have some sort of mental illness or neurodivergence, especially when they weren't believed/listened to etc and i think walker played this part beautifully

GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TOGETHER. GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TO TRAIN PERCY. I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING OFF ROOFTOPS THE IMPLICATIONS THAT THIS HAS???? ARE YOU ACTUALLY JOKING??????? IMAGINE SEASON 3 PERCY FINDS NICO AND THEY HAVE THIS IN COMMON???????????!?!?!?!?!? FEELING SEVERELY FRANTIC AND MASSIVELY UNWELL ABOUT THIS

luke's empathy towards Percy throughout-- his apologies for what happened to his mother at the bottom of Half Blood Hill, him telling P that he relates to the nightmares, the restlessness, the ADHD..... so fucking sick and fucking twisted, I will be sobbing at the ending, gorgeous job on both ends on making this relationship feel very warm and authentic and the trust starting to build. this will H U R T.

CLARISSE. she's so gorgeous and vindictive. Her beauty took me off guard initially, but she's such a spiteful little badass that I completely fell in love with her. I CANNOT WAIT to see more of her characterization, especially into season two. perfection.

Percy burning the blue jelly beans- the thing he'd miss most- out in the middle of the woods at night in a damn can, just to pray to his MOTHER. *sobbing intensifies* i couldn't ask for a more sweet, heartfelt, honest moment. the perfect addition. 10s across the board

Percy's ANGER. OH BOY this was one of my most favorite parts. I feel like we see Percy as a very happy-go-lucky kid altogether but I loved, LOVED to see his frustration and agitation from the very beginning. Everything is so confusing and foreign and all he knows is that 1. he's been betrayed or left behind by everyone he knows and 2. he's been ignored his whole life by his godly parent. His mission is to MAKE HIS DAD SEE PERCY, at ANY COST. Before he even knows who his dad is. He is entitled to feel ALL of this anger and hurt and resentment!!!!!!!

Annabeth calling Percy "sunshine". TOTAL CULTURAL RESET. I gasped. The dawn of a new age of Percabeth. I will be screaming into my pillow about this for the foreseeable future.

The entire characterization of Percy throughout the capture the flag scene. His contrast of being just a kid- flossing (lol), peeing the woods, petting a gecko, just vibing and hanging out VS. being thrown suddenly into attack from his peers that don't care about the rules, surprising himself and everyone around him with his finesse in battle, quick instincts, swordsmanship..... i'm weak fr. I can't wait to see him grow, train, become stronger and more confident.

Overall, I'm entirely floored and beyond happy. I can't wait to see more. 10/10

#percy jackson #pjotv #pjotv spoilers #percy jackson spoilers #percabeth #walker scobell #annabeth chase #leah sava jeffries #grover underwood #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #brain so rotted its unspeakable #good lord #THE ADAPATION WE DESERVE #please dm me if u want to talk more im foaming at the damn mouth

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moonsvillain · 29 days

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hotwings au where hawks is a vampire, dabi is a human, and they meet through the vampire equivalent of doordash.

dabi shows up at his door, scruffy and woozy (guy who's been doing this as a full time job and is not coping with the blood loss very well)

hawks is (rightfully) concerned and is ready to cancel his order but dabi immediately disagrees because "that'll fuck up my ratings sooo bad dude don't be an asshole"

hawks: "???"

dabi: "i really need this job man"

hawks kinda shrugs and asks if dabi's up to anything for the next few hours and dabi doesn't have anything going on so hawks invites him in and immediately sits this guy down on his couch to feed him and let him rest for at least four hours so he's not indirectly accused of manslaughter

one must imagine the disposition of an alley cat encountering canned food for the first time: internal battle of mistrust versus yummy treats

dabi goes down kicking and screaming

(the day he goes over to hawks' place it's raining so hard you can barely see and all dabi has is a cheap plastic poncho. hawks' place has heating—he very 'reluctantly' curls up on the couch)

hawks is probably the worst cook on earth but when he tells dabi this, he refuses to let hawks order food for him; dabi would literally rather die than subject another minimum wage worker to the storm outside just to come to this rich asshole's home

which ends up with dabi in hawks' kitchen, making himself a meal

(which, he probably wouldn't usually do this, but the blood loss is kind of getting to him. dabi's decision making has slowly trickled down to the average level it is when he gets drunk)

when he's fed and warm and hawks has forced him to watch two animated movies dabi could not give less of a shit about he finally turns to dabi like

"ok i know we're having a great time but also i really need to eat something. like. you. preferably."

dabi shrugs and offers up his arm, getting progressively more sleepy while hawks finishes his meal before falling asleep pressed against hawks' side

wakes up the next morning with a blanket pulled over him, cheek pressed to a throw pillow with a littleee bit of drool staining the fabric under him

sits up and looks around, armed only with blurry memories of the night before

("did i... sleep with this guy...!?!??!?")

finds a note on the table and unfolds it, trying to figure out what the hell is going on

(lovedddd hanging w u yesterday :P off at work feel free 2 make urself breakfast before u go. U should know where everything is. tip on the counter 4 u. xoxo hawks)

dabi, slightly mortified at the implication he rooted around in this guy's kitchen when he was out of it yesterday finds the tip

it's literally, like, $500 dollars

dabi scribbles down his phone number and sticks it on the fridge with a magnet

(half because he really needed that money and is pleasantly surprised that he got rent money a week earlier than he was expecting)

(half because he might not remember yesterday entirely, but he remembers feeling safe and warm and being addicted to that rare sensation)

hawks is very happy when he gets home, even if dabi isn't there, when he finds his little gift on the fridge

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marley-manson · 3 months

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Hawkeye and Frank are the two most diametrically opposed characters on Mash. They clash politically, ideologically, emotionally, intellectually, and even physically on more than one occasion. There is virtually nothing they agree on. But they do have one significant similarity: both Hawkeye and Frank are notably, pointedly effeminate.

Hawkeye is the central protagonist, so he's written to be likeable, even admirable, especially in the first five seasons of the show when satire dominated rather than character drama. He's the character who makes the correct political points and voices the show's ideology, and male audience members are encouraged to identify with him and aspire to be like him. He's witty, he's smart, he's charismatic, he dodges consequences a lot, he's highly skilled in his work, and he has a strong personality and natural leadership qualities.

Frank is the main antagonist up until the end of season five. He's written for audiences to hate him, mock him, and occasionally be horrified by him. He's dull-witted, incompetent, awkward, easily led and manipulated, and always gets his comeuppance. Few audience members are likely to aspire to be more like Frank Burns.

And yet, while most likeable protagonist/detestable antagonist duos in American popular media would also be differentiated in terms of gender performance as a matter of course - the effeminate villain being a standard stock character, always set against a ruggedly masculine hero - Mash takes a different approach.

From his core personality as a sniveling, weak-willed follower, to the way other characters, including Hawkeye, routinely make fun of him by comparing him to a woman or insinuating that he's gay, Frank Burns certainly fits the part of weak, emasculated villain. What's more interesting, and much less commonly seen in Hollywood media, is that Hawkeye is portrayed as just as unmanly, and just as, if not more prone to having it pointed out in the show.

Often Hawkeye's jokes at Frank's expense include the implication that Hawkeye is attracted to him himself, and not necessarily as "the man." He jokes, "Guess it's a marriage, Frank. I know I can do better, but at my age, can I wait?" in Hawkeye, Get Your Gun; he switches from calling Frank one of his vampire brides to taking the feminine part in post-coital pillow talk after siphoning his blood in Germ Warfare; he kisses or tells Frank to kiss him in Major Fred C. Dobbs, For the Good of the Outfit, and Bulletin Board, etc.

Other times, the jokes Hawkeye makes about himself are virtually identical to the jokes made at Frank's expense - their respective attractions to Margaret as a potentially dominant sexual partner, eg, with both Frank and Hawkeye portrayed as eagerly submissive. For instance, in 5 O'Clock Charlie Hawkeye jokes about tying Frank to Margaret's tent, then dismisses the thought with, "He'd probably love it. I know I would." And Hawkeye/Trapper and Frank/Margaret are sometimes paralleled as dual couples, Hawkeye and Frank usually being framed as the more feminine partner in each.

And of course, unconnected to Frank, there are many, many more examples of Hawkeye's effeminacy, both in jokes and in personality traits.

Hawkeye is a self-professed coward who is loud and proud about how terrified he is to be stuck in a war zone. He's emotionally open and highly empathetic, always willing to listen to others' problems and discuss (or scream about) his own. He abhors institutional violence and faces every enemy combatant with his hands firmly in the air. When authority is thrust upon him he strives to relinquish it, and uses it as little as possible.

More shallowly, he has little interest in sports and exercise, derides masculine hobby magazines like Field and Stream and Popular Mechanics, is incapable of performing mechanical tasks to the exasperation of others at least four times (Comrades in Arms which explicitly frames this emasculating, In Love and War, Patent 4077, and Hey, Look Me Over), mocks traditional masculinity in many ways, and enjoys musical theatre and Hollywood gossip. And he makes and takes literally hundreds of jokes about being unmanly and having sex with men himself, many more than he makes at Frank's expense.

But while the jokes are at Frank's expense and meant to belittle him, they're rarely made at Hawkeye's expense, especially in the first five seasons. Hawkeye doesn't make the jokes out of self-deprecation, he makes them out of pride and a desire to differentiate himself from the army men he's surrounded by. He's almost always in on the jokes others make about him, rather than offended - Potter telling him to file a paternity suit against his rival in Hepatitis makes him laugh delightedly, and Trapper's remarks on his effeminacy, such as Miz Hawkeye in Hot Lips and Empty Arms, are sometimes lightly teasing but always a regular aspect of their dynamic that Hawkeye enjoys playing up. Frank doesn't make any jokes directly mocking Hawkeye's masculinity that I can recall, beyond vague "pervert" and "degenerate" remarks, which, while often historically homophobic, in the show's context tend to be treated as a reference to his heterosexual endeavours.

Frank's effeminacy is a point of mockery and derision, but Hawkeye's is a point of pride, and not intended to make him any less likeable to an audience. Antagonists don't get to score points off of Hawkeye by mocking his feminine traits, but Hawkeye makes fun of Frank regularly by mocking his feminine traits.

This difference in framing can partially be explained by the nature of their respective gender performances.

While Hawkeye and Frank are both effeminate, they're effeminate in many opposite ways. Frank is weak-willed while Hawkeye is strong-willed. Frank is unappealing to most women, while Hawkeye is something of a lady's man. Frank cannot face his fears to rise to a challenge, but Hawkeye can. But on the flipside, Frank refuses to admit to fear while Hawkeye openly proclaims it. Frank strives to attain authority while Hawkeye refuses it or takes it on only begrudgingly. Frank is obsessed with guns to a freudian extent while one of Hawkeye's most famous monologues of the show is a speech about refusing to carry one. Frank worships the concept of traditional masculinity even while he can't perform it himself, while Hawkeye mocks the concept and would refuse to perform it even if he could.

The Sniper is an excellent case study of these contrasts. In this episode, Hawkeye is effeminate and at ease with it, while Frank is desperate to prove himself masculine. Frank and Margaret flirt with strong Freudian overtones while Frank shoots a gun while nearby Hawkeye flirts with with a nurse with a line about "tasting" her. Hawkeye connects with the nurse he's wooing by relating to how scared she is and huddling in fear with her, while Margaret demands that Frank prove his masculinity by going out and taking down the sniper himself. Frank carries a gun while trying to approach the sniper, while Hawkeye carries a white flag. Frank tries to make fun of Hawkeye for wanting to surrender, but he can't bring himself to approach the sniper while Hawkeye does.

This contrast of gender performance is a consistent aspect of Hawkeye and Frank's dynamic throughout the show, but The Sniper makes it a central theme so it's a useful example to show how their relationships to masculinity are a deliberate aspect of their dynamic.

And while Hawkeye makes fun of Frank's femininity, it's significant that he also regularly makes fun of Frank's masculinity - his love of guns (eg The Sniper), his sexual affairs (eg the exchange about Frank as a "fantastic performer" in Yankee Doodle Doctor), his numerous attempts to exert authority (eg Welcome to Korea), his desire for socially approved success (eg Hot Lips and Empty Arms), etc.

Both masculine and feminine sides of Frank are comprised of negative character traits, while Hawkeye embodies the best of both - emotional expression and healthy ways of coping by talking about his feelings; bravery but not machismo; intelligence and skill as a doctor rather than an officer; empathy and a willingness to listen; sexual prowess but largely through his love of foreplay rather than his dick game (which, in the context of the early 70s, is a somewhat feminine attribute that distinguishes him from a typical traditionally masculine man); etc.

Hawkeye demonstrates some of the most appealing and healthy qualities of both masculinity and femininity while Frank demonstrates, or strives to demonstrate, the more toxic qualities of both. Through including a few positive masculine traits in the mix, the narrative is able to depict Hawkeye as likeable, admirable, and desirable in his effeminacy while Frank is depicted as loathesome in his. Hawkeye gets one of many, many women in The Sniper by showing vulnerability, while Frank only appeals to Margaret, and Margaret is portrayed as borderline pathological in her sexual attraction to violent masculinity (the scene where Frank excites her with his gun, for example, also includes an electra complex joke, and there's a running rape kink gag in this episode as well).

Another aspect to consider when it comes to differentiating Hawkeye and Frank's respective femininities is hypocrisy. Similar to how Frank and Margaret's affair is mocked because they can't admit to it while Hawkeye and Trapper's affairs are glorified, part of what makes Frank's effeminacy so mock-worthy, while Hawkeye's feminine qualities are a source of pride and rebellion, is that Frank refuses to admit to them.

Frank desperately wants to be the ideal heroic army man and often play-acts the part, poorly. When Hawkeye mocks him by calling him a woman, for example, he's drawing attention to Frank's failure to live up to his own ideals. And when Hawkeye calls himself a woman, he's mocking those same ideals. The message is that Frank is pathetic not so much for failing to be traditionally masculine, but for wanting to be traditionally masculine at all.

Ultimately the ways Hawkeye and Frank perform masculinity and femininity are pointedly in opposition, from which masc and fem traits they embody, to how proudly they embody them. The show itself draws attention to these gendered similarities and differences between Frank and Hawkeye through a constant barrage of jokes, and even whole scenes and episodes. In this way the show portrays Frank as a hypocritical loser who wants to be masculine but fails to embody all but the worst traits, and Hawkeye as a cool, admirable guy who disdains the traditional pillars of masculinity and embraces his own effeminacy.

#mash #marley on mash #mash gen #mash gs #frank mash #hawkeye mash #since you guys liked that trapper gender meta a lot more than i thought you would here have another one #though this is written a little less formally lol #i have more examples of whole scenes that make these comparisons than just the sniper but i'm trying to keep this from being #even longer than it already is #but eg white gold is another good example wrt how they relate to flagg; yankee doodle doctor; army navy game; george; the gun; etc etc #(also it's interesting that when frank leaves hawkeye gets the pathetic loser portrayal more often... though i think that's a coincidence #the shift from early to late mash could be yet another essay on mash and gender lol)#long post

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drunk-fantasies · 9 months

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when you use safe word

+18 content, minors dni

bf!hyungline x fem!reader / implications of sex, crying / mlist

explicit content under the cut!

˗ˏˋlee heeseungˊˎ˗

as soon as he hears the word come from your mouth he stops his movements almost immediately. scanning your features he reached to cup your cheek. he didn’t dare to move nor say anything, scared he might hurt you even more. waiting for any move from you, he finally saw how you opened your eyes. you patted a spot next to you and he followed quickly. you nestled against him quickly, smelling his scent and seeking comfort in his touch. now he didn’t hesitate to rub your back and leave tons of soft kisses on your forehead. regretting putting you into such an uncomfortable state to say it he asked you what to not do in the future.

˗ˏˋpark jongseongˊˎ˗

regret of not stopping earlier flooded his mind and he couldn’t stop thinking of the way your voice cracked when saying it. it’s all that took him to pull out gently and engulf you in a warm hug. he could sense something was off about you and your reactions to his actions, so why didn’t he just stop? questions like that raced with guilt and sadness of seeing your state. “i’m so sorry, my love,” he mumbled against your lips and kissed them dearly. the last thing he wanted was to hurt you and he knew he screwed this time. all he wants is to bring you pleasure.

˗ˏˋsim jaeyunˊˎ˗

at first he didn’t know if he heard you right, or if he misheard the word you used. his thrusts became more sloppy and after he realized you said it they stopped swiftly. “baby,” he cooed seeing how you struggled to take a breath in. “baby, look at me,” he said softly. “try to breathe with me.” he patiently instructed you and his eyes never left yours looking for answers to what made you scream your safe word. too immersed by his pleasure and desire to edge you, he didn’t realize how overstimulated and sensitive you got. overthinking this whole situation a thought of you being scared of him crossed his mind but he tried to brush it off, focusing on bringing you comfort.

˗ˏˋpark sunghoonˊˎ˗

realizing the tears that stained your whole face and pillows under your head weren’t caused by pleasure but pain or too immense overstimulation he pulled out of you carefully and watched you, still hovering over your form. your cries were louder with every second and he could swear he heard his heart shattered into million pieces. he watched as your breathing got more uneven and eyes closed shut with tears streaming from under your eyelids. not being able to bear the sight of you breaking down in front of him when his duty is to bring you love and pleasure, he cradled you in between your arms and waited for your any response. you wrapped your arms around his neck bringing him closer, finding comfort in his radiating warmth.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enha hard hours #enha smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung enhypen #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen jay smut #jay hard thoughts #jay enhypen #enhypen jake smut #enhypen jake hard hours #enhypen jake #sunghoon hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon hard hours #enhypen sunghoon smut

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swordcreature · 5 months

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Empty - Rolan x Tav Soulmate AU

hi hi hi! me and the wonderful, amazing @forgeofthenine decided to do a lil collab/prompt swap for the tiefling boys. it was so much fun to write and you definitely need to go see what prompt i gave her because oh boy i know it's gonna be cute. like scream into a pillow cute. thank you Bri for this collab idea i had so much fun and also totally didn't spend an entire work shift looking at pictures of Rolan's hands (because you know, inspiration).

my prompt was for Rolan + "Your soulmate's handprint is the first place they touch you"

(i'm totally going to edit formatting of this post later because it takes me forever to do so, so if you see it change, that's why lol)

Rolan could recall, with complete clarity, the first time someone touched the dark red handprint on his chest. He was barely a teen, not even old enough to truly understand the implication of a soulmate, when a classmate braced her hand over his heart. He remembered the way his chest tightened, how he couldn’t breathe as the taller tiefling laid her palm just slightly too left of the soulmark.

He didn’t need to look down to know it wasn’t a match. How many times had he pressed his own hand against his chest, trying to make his long, clawed fingers fit the much smaller handprint, so that he could burn the feeling into memory? Lia had said it was just fate, that the gods had someone better in store for him, but that didn’t lessen the sting – even if he wasn’t particularly fond of the girl.

He decided that romance was a fool's game, one that people like Rolan couldn’t afford to play. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. He had a family to look after, siblings to provide for. What good would dwelling on silly fantasies of love do him? It certainly wouldn’t put food on the table or a roof over their heads.

In the back of his mind, though, in the privacy of his own thoughts, Rolan imagined what it would be like to meet the match to his soulmark. It was bittersweet, a torturous pain that he reveled in, teasing himself with pretty fantasies of who his mate may be. They always stayed fantasies, though.

But then Elturel fell into Avernus. And any hope Rolan had of ever finding his soulmate was ripped away, like the ground beneath his feet that gave way to the fiery pits of the Hells. He felt hollow, empty. Even as Elturel returned to the mortal plane, the feeling never went away.

⸻

When Tav first came into the grove, Rolan was drowning in the emptiness. It was easy to pretend it didn’t exist when the world was going to shit around them. And he had all but mastered the art of walling himself up so that any blows to his brittle heart didn’t send it careening into the abyss he felt inside.

Rolan found that he felt different around her, though. He first noticed it at the party, as he and the Elturian refugees celebrated Tav and her companion’s efforts against the goblins. The cavity in his chest seemed to shrink, if only by a little bit. But it was enough for Rolan to breathe, to take a breath he didn’t realize he so desperately needed. It made him nervous, the way she easily was able to slip through the defenses he painstakingly constructed and take hold in his mind.

For the first time since Avernus, Rolan let himself imagine what it would be like to feel her hand against his chest, slotting into place over the red mark.

⸻

These temporary highs never seemed to last long for Rolan. Amid the broken grounds of the shadow cursed lands, as Cal and Lia were ripped from his grasp, the cavern in his chest swelled. It loomed large and insidious, and Rolan felt as though if he closed his eyes hard enough, he could fall into it. He hated it, hated himself, hated feeling so utterly weak.

And when the emptiness threatened to swallow him whole, Tav was there.

She returned to Rolan what he thought was lost to him forever. If he weren’t a coward, he would have grabbed her right then and there. He would have pulled her to him and apologized for the venomous words he spit at her in anger, would have thanked her for all that she had done. He simply uttered a tiny 'thank you' and let her go on her way, trying to ignore the way his chest shifted as she left.

⸻

If Rolan were a third party, looking at his life from unaffected eyes, he perhaps would have laughed at the misfortune that plagued him at every step. It truly never seemed to end. Just as he got his footing, arriving at Baldur's Gate and securing a place for him and his siblings to stay, the rug was pulled out from under him.

At least this time, the pain he felt was physical and not deep within. At least he had bruised and marks to show for it. At least he could put a name to his tormentor: Lorroakan.

Although he did have to admit that after everything he had been through, working as the whipping boy for an egomaniacal wizard was something he could handle. Or at least see through to the end.

And Rolan fully intended to stick through his apprenticeship, to become a powerful and renowned wizard, to ensure his siblings were taken care of. He certainly didn’t expect Tav to throw herself into the mix, killing the master wizard before Rolan had even been there a tenday. Though, he probably should have expected it.

She always seemed to show up whenever he needed her most, even when he didn’t want her help. Especially when he didn’t want her help. If Rolan was religious, he may have thought her a form of divine intervention. But he hadn’t prayed since he was a child and calling her work an act of the gods seemed like an insult to Tav’s capabilities. She was Tav, nothing more and nothing less. A woman who somehow knew him and what he needed, without even knowing him.

Perhaps that’s why she appeared at Ramazith’s tower one day, dressed in her casual clothes, under the guise of checking in. Rolan had taken on the duties as master of Sorcerous Sundries, and though things were better than they had been in so very long, the emptiness still gnawed at his chest, just as vicious as ever.

She was just as glorious in her street clothes as she was in her armor, but something drew Rolan’s eye to her hand, a part of her he had never seen uncovered before, always beneath a gauntlet of some sort. On it was a pink blotch that extended over her wrist, twisting around her arm like a snake. As they caught up, he found his eyes drifting back to her hand, tracing the outline of it again and again, trying to discern its secrets.

As Tav stood to leave, it clicked.

With one long stride, Rolan closed the distance between them, grabbing her wrist over where the soft pink shape marred her skin. His pull may have been just a tad too rough, causing her to stumble forward into him. She braced herself with a hand against his chest.

He didn’t need to look down to know it was a perfect match. And by the look on Tav’s face, she didn’t either. For a long moment they stared at one another, nothing but the sounds of quickened breath between them.

Then they were smiling and laughing and Rolan decided that if he didn’t kiss her right then and there that he may actually light the whole damned tower on fire. As he clumsily pressed his lips to hers, he couldn’t feel a lick of space in his chest. Just the fullness of his racing heart.

#bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x tav #my writing #forgeofthenine #soulmate au

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stop-talking · 2 months

Text

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 4)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 2.9k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating, caught masturbating, overall mature themes.

slight trigger warning for thoughts of death?? (except Derek isn't really suicidal he's just a drama queen)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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It's been nearly twelve hours since you accidentally walked in on Derek doing the unspeakable, and you're still kicking yourself for it.

In an attempt to make it up to him, you'd spent the morning making a nice breakfast. Unfortunately, it's almost noon now, and he hasn't left his room.

No way in hell are you going to go knocking on his door. Not after last night. The image of him finishing into his own hand while making eye contact with you is still burned into your brain. Fuck, he ended up covered in cum. And that stupid fucking face he made...

Oh god, think of something else. ANYTHING else.

You turn your attention to the breakfast you'd prepared for the two of you. The cold breakfast. Sighing, you scrape the eggs and bacon into a container for later.

Why did you even open the damn door? Obviously he was jerking off. Horny bastard. Of course, when you'd heard the whimpers and moans coming from his room, you'd assumed he wasn't feeling well.

Which was a valid assumption to make, right?? I mean, he sounded absolutely pitiful, what were you supposed to think? You swore up and down he even called out your name once or twice, but fuck, you didn't want to think about the implications of that.

And so, after knocking and saying his name a few times, you had decided to just go for it. How were you supposed to know he was doing... that??

"It's not my fault." You grumble to yourself, blindly shoving the leftovers into the fridge and trying to shrug it off.

Then again, even if the initial situation wasn't your fault, you still owed him an apology. You'd absolutely been staring. Gawking, even. It probably took a good five seconds before you'd come to your senses and slammed the door, but five seconds was enough for him to... oh god. Stop thinking about it.

You try physically shaking your head to dismiss the perverted images plaguing your mind. It works... sort of. As you make your way up the stairs to his bedroom, your stomach knots with guilt.

Just about anything sounds more appealing than knocking on his door right now. Unfortunately, that's what you're about to do.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek's plans for the day only include one thing, really. Rotting in bed and wishing he was dead.

He figures if he locks himself in his room long enough, the three weeks will eventually pass without him having to show his face to you ever again.

Or he'd die first. With the way he felt right now, that would honestly be fine too.

He groans into a pillow, desperate to hear something than the pounding in his head. He's been trembling all morning, a sign he really needed a fix.

The guilt has been eating away at him almost as much as his stupid withdrawals. He replays the scene from last night over in his head for the millionth time, internally screaming at himself for not covering up. Or locking the damn door.

He knows there's nothing he could have done to change what happened. The timing was just too... perfect. Looking at your pretty face while he came was literally a dream come true.

The aftermath, unfortunately, was a nightmare.

There's no way you don't hate him now. Or at least feel completely disgusted. After all, you'd slammed the door and left him.

So this is his fate. Rot in bed until he wastes away. It's all he deserves, really, for being such a fucking pervert.

"Derek? You still alive?"

He nearly falls off the bed in his scramble to make himself look presentable.

"...Yeah." He eventually croaks out, trying to smooth his curls with one hand and pull the blanket over himself with the other.

"Can I come in?"

Derek begrudgingly agrees, sitting up against the headboard in an attempt to look less pathetic.

You slowly swing the door open, looking visibly relieved when he isn't... exposed. Like last time.

Before he can even think about what he's saying, the words roll off his tongue.

"I'm sorry." You both say at the same time.

Wait, that doesn't make sense. What do YOU have to be sorry for? He's the one that fucked up. Derek's brow furrows as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"I- I mean it." He stutters. "I really didn't... didn't mean for you to see that."

He avoids your gaze, turning away as you place a hand on his leg. Well, on the comforter covering his legs, but close enough.

"I know." You seem equally uncomfortable, silently looking around and examining his bedroom. And it is HIS room, decorated to suit his tastes. Unlike the other guest rooms in the house, which are all decorated in shades of pastels and beach-themed paraphernalia.

He squirms a bit, starting to get self-conscious of his own design choices. The dark wood furniture with gold accents stand out against the emerald green walls. Under usual circumstances, he'd feel proud of the expensive atmosphere. Right now... It all felt gaudy.

"I love all the animal print." You say, eyeing a pelt hanging on the wall above his dresser.

Derek winces. Yeah, okay, maybe it was a bit much.

"I picked out these decorations, like, 5 years ago. Cut me some slack." He grumbles, crossing his arms and giving you a pouty look.

"It looks nice." You smile, scooting a little closer to him on the bed, your hand trailing further up his covered legs.

"Don't lie."

"..."

"Okay, It looks like you gave a redneck with no prior knowledge of interior design an unlimited budget and a kilo of cocaine, then set him loose and told him to go crazy."

Damn. He'd be pissed at that if you didn't look so... warm. Even with the harsh words, he could tell you were only teasing.

"To be fair, I probably was on cocaine when I picked all this shit out." Derek snorts, gesturing around to the clashing animal prints, gold-rimmed mirrors and paintings, and wood accent pieces.

That little comment seems to make you waver. Shit. Bad joke?

"Not anymore." He tries to assure you, putting his hand on top of yours. You still haven't moved it from his thigh. "I haven't had anything like that since I got here, and it sucks. I feel like shit."

He slumps slightly against the headboard, letting his put-together act fall. Not like it was a very good act, anyways.

"I believe you, just... I feel bad. I'm sorry for last night."

Derek winces as the topic gets turned back to last night's activities. You didn't even have anything to apologize for, as far as he was concerned. He'd let you watch him cum any day. Make a show of it, if that's what you wanted.

Fuck. Stop thinking about it.

Derek struggles to listen as you ramble, instead staring into your pretty eyes and overthinking the way his hand is still on top of yours. You're saying something about how he shouldn't stay in bed all day, how he needs to keep a routine or he'll end up in a slump.

"...so can we just forget about what happened and move on? I don't think I can stand 17 more days of awkwardness." You finish, giving him a pleading look.

Forget about what happened? Derek's heart sinks into his stomach. He doesn't want to forget. Even though he hates himself for it, he loves what happened last night. He'd re-live it over and over again if he could, minus the part where you freak out and slam the door.

"Derek?" You ask again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh. Yeah. Forget about it, please." His face heats up and he finally takes his hand back from yours, nervously running it through his hair instead. He might not what to forget about what happened, but he sure as hell wanted you to forget about it.

"Done." You give him a relieved smile and hop off his bed. "Alright, I'm gonna wait for you downstairs. Come meet me soon or I'll drag you down myself."

Derek does as asked, going through the motions of his normal morning routine. That didn't go as bad as it could have, all things considered.

At least you don't hate him.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Derek eventually trudges downstairs, you already have lunch heated up for him. Or... breakfast? It doesn't really matter.

He refuses to eat at first. Stubborn man. He says he feels nauseous, but how does he expect to get better with no food in his stomach?

After practically forcing him to eat, you settle down on the couch with him and try to decide on a movie.

"We are not watching another stupid action movie." You grumble, snuggling up in one corner of the couch while Derek takes a seat on the other end.

"Well I'm not watching some cheesy chick flick."

"Then what do you want to watch?"

Derek shrugs.

"Oh my god, Danforth. Just pick. Comedy or Horror?"

"Comedy."

"Okay, Adam Sandler or Jim Carrey?"

He pauses for a bit, furrowing his brow in a way that you might find adorable if he wasn't being so damn difficult.

"Sandler."

"Okay then, we're watching Billy Madison." You turn your attention back to the television and smile to yourself as you search for the movie.

"I don't think I've seen that one." He starts to shift in his seat as the movie starts, looking restless. What's his problem?

"Do you want to...?" You look over at him, trailing off and patting your lap.

He nods, and immediately lies down on his side, cheek against your thigh.

"Thanks." He mumbles, looking more relaxed by the second as he makes himself comfortable on your lap.

"Mhm." You hum, turning your attention back to the movie.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for him to start getting restless again. You pretend not to notice the way he occasionally glances up at you, keeping your gaze fixed on the television.

His hand finds yours, slowly tugging it towards his head. You take the hint and run your fingers through his hair, chuckling at how needy he's being.

"Don't laugh." He groans, leaning his head back slightly and melting into your touch. "It feels nice. And I've been feeling like death."

"You'd better not die on me, Danforth. No one would come to pick me up for another two weeks, and I don't think your corpse would fit in the freezer."

"You could chop me up." He offers, shifting so that he's lying on his back, looking up at you with his head across your thighs.

God, that smug look on his face. Why did the bastard have to be so cute?

"Okay, this is getting morbid. Shut up and watch the movie." You do your best to scold him, but it's hard to keep up the façade while gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Make me."

Without hesitation, you slap your free hand over his mouth. His eyes widen for a moment, the smug look replaced with... something else.

Muffled noises come from his mouth as he attempts to speak through your hand, but you just laugh and continue petting him.

That is, until you feel his tongue on your hand.

"You're lucky you look so pitiful, Danforth, or I'd push you off the couch." You grumble, wiping your hand off on his shirt as he smirks up at you.

"Pitiful?" He scoffs, shoving your hand away from his chest.

"Yeah, sad and pitiful. You're a mess." You taunt him a bit, but your words are just as soft as the gentle touches you've been giving him.

Derek straightens best he can while lying your lap. "I'm not pitiful." He grumbles. "Stop pitying me."

His little act gets another chuckle out of you.

"It'll be easier if you stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"With those puppy eyes."

Derek's brow furrows, and he frowns up at you while you tug at his curls.

"I have puppy eyes?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek spends the rest of a movie in a blissed-out state on your lap. Physically, his body is a wreck. He feels weak, shaky, and all-around ill.

But emotionally? He's giddy. The way you've been treating him lately... there's no way you don't like him.

Fuck, no, don't jump to conclusions. Just ask. Yeah. Simple.

As the credits roll, Derek finally works up the courage to speak up.

"Why do you put up with me?" He asks, shifting to look up at you while his head rests against your thigh.

You pause mid-way through stroking his hair, and Derek is scared you might be able to hear how fast his heart is beating. He can sure hear it, at least.

"What do you mean, love?" You finally respond, untangling your fingers from his curls and setting your hand aside.

That makes him groan out loud. See? Exactly that sort of thing. Always calling him love. It drives him crazy.

"You're just so damn nice to me." He sighs, tossing his head back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Oh? Should I be mean?"

"Maybe." He lets out an amused huff, but there's a twinge of bitterness in his voice. It isn't really a joke. You're just too nice. He doesn't deserve it.

You seem to pick up on his shift in attitude, because you start running your fingers through his hair again.

"It's my job to take care of you, you know. At least for the next... 17 days or so."

Right. Your job. Derek can't help but sigh. He finally finds someone who seems to be interested in him for reasons that aren't monetary... but only because his mother is literally paying them.

"Oh, don't be like that." You scold him, and start to nudge him off your lap.

Derek takes the hint, sitting up. Before he can stew over your words further, he feels you pulling him into an embrace.

The angle is slightly awkward, with his back against your chest and his head resting on your shoulder, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

"Stop... you're gonna make me soft." He grumbles, but makes absolutely no effort to stop your arms from wrapping around him. He melts back into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

From this close, he can smell your perfume. He's caught a whiff of it a few times before, usually when you get up close and personal with him in the kitchen. It's a soft, sweet, floral scent. Extremely different than the expensive, in-your-face scents of most women in his social circle. He's started associating the smell with comfort.

"Maybe that's my plan." You muse, giving him a tight squeeze before finally letting him go.

If only you knew just how well it's working.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Stop! You're getting sand everywhere!" You swat at Derek as he accidentally kicks sand onto the blanket you've spent nearly ten minutes arranging.

"It's a beach, sweetheart. There's gonna be sand." He scoffs, but carefully brushes off his legs before returning them to the large quilt.

After dinner, you'd realized you accidentally let him go an entire day without going outside. So, you'd dragged him out to go stargazing with nothing more than a blanket and a couple of flashlights.

"There's a difference between lying on top of it and being buried in it." You elbow him as he gets just a little bit too close. There's plenty of room for you to both stretch out, why does he have to be so clingy?

"I'm cold." He whines, grabbing at your arm.

"I told you to bring a jacket."

"I didn't think you were serious?! What kind of a beach is cold?"

You roll your eyes at him. It's not even cold, honestly. Just a bit brisk. There's a soft breeze coming from the ocean, smelling slightly of salt.

"Just cover up with the blanket."

"It's covered in sand."

"And who's fault is that?"

"..."

"Please?"

You finally turn to look at him, and you can feel yourself giving in almost immediately. God damn it. There's no way this man didn't know he had puppy eyes. Fuckin' manipulator.

"Fine. C'mere."

Derek scoots closer and you throw an arm around him, letting him rest his head on you.

You both lay like that for a while, staring up at the sky and listening to the soft crashing of the waves.

The moon is full tonight, illuminating the seemingly endless sand and water. There's a forest made of palms and ferns off to the side, and the leaves all ripple in the breeze.

"It's really pretty." Derek finally sighs, eyes still looking skyward.

"I know. You can actually see all the stars out here. In the city it's harder... light pollution or something." You shrug, making his head bob slightly as it rests on your shoulder.

Derek just hums in agreement. Poor thing. He looks exhausted, even though he slept until midday.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now. Not sure I could carry you back."

"I won't... promise..." He yawns and scoots a little closer, his arm reaching over and wrapping around your waist.

You should probably push him off, but damnit... he just looks so peaceful.

You rest your free arm on his, keeping him glued to you. It feels nice, all of it. His warmth, the cool breeze, the sound of the ocean, the twinkling stars... fuck. He's really growing on you.

Derek doesn't keep his promise, falling asleep in minutes.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: This chapter took FOREVER!! There were just so many different directions I could have taken the story from the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed the one I ended up with!! It was mostly fluff, I know... but Derek is just so cute. I can't help it.

Thanks so much for being patient, and for all the kind comments & asks!!! Feel free to send in literally anything, I don't get many messages in my inbox.

Part 5

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #derek danforth #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #the beekeeper #derek danforth x you #joshhutcherson #x reader fic #fem reader #female reader #no use of y/n

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nicklesbam · 2 months

Text

Sleep

TW: angst, mental health issues

I know this isn’t the latest story you guys thought I would be posting but I know a lot of people are going through a hard time right now and so am I, I thought why not make something out of this feeling yk?

not proofread, I did all of this in about 30 minutes or so

Y/N POV

Sleep. Why do we need it? Is it the constant state of tiredness? An escape from reality? Who knows, all I know is I can’t seem to fall asleep

Throughout the days I get more exhausted, my smile starts to wear thin, and my eyes feel like they’re ablaze. I just want to stay coupled up in my room

But I can’t. Every day it’s another curse and everyday we kill it, it’s like a cycle on repeat day in and day out

“You look tired,” Gojo spoke as we were walking in silence beforehand. I just look to him, my eye bags giving it away, “have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll go to bed early tonight” I lied through my teeth. I’m helpless, nothing feels how it should, nothing is how it should be. We continue to walk in silence back to jujustu high

Once I get back to my room I change and just lay on my bed. Why am I like this? I was just fine a couple days ago, so why now? I had so many unanswered questions

I kept up on my training as to not alert anyone of any implications that I’m not doing alright. I remember when Suguru Geto was still here, we used to be close. I remember what it was like to fight beside him, how we used to have fun along with Gojo but it’s in the past now. Now my future is full with cursed spirits

I dream of a place in my mind where I could go. I could just go and never have to worry about anything. I would have my best friends beside me and there would be no cursed spirits, everything would be perfect. It was a dream for a reason

I haven’t been able to bring myself to eat much, only what I need to stay alive. I’m in darkness and I don’t think anyone could pull me out, it’s too late. I curled in on myself under my blanket, sniffling for reasons unknown to me. Sometimes everything we do as sorcerers gets too much, it’s starting to get too much for me and it was too much for Suguru Geto. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I started to sob loudly under my covers

I heard the door open but I didn’t care, I had finally broke the tall standing wall I had put up. The person rushed to my side and lifted the blanket. Gojo stood there with a worried face

“Y/n! Are you ok?” His question just made me sob more. I couldn’t control myself at this point

“Is there something you need?! Something I can do?! Please! Tell me!” He doesn’t know what to do, I myself don’t know what to do. I just lay there a sobbing mess as one of my best friends stares at me with worry etched across his face

Suddenly another pair of footsteps sounds in the room. I can’t move, I can’t see who it is

‘Just leave! Please! I don’t want you to see me like this!’ I shouted in my head only for it not to reach my lips

“Y/n are you alright?” I recognized the voice as shoko. She tried to touch my shoulder but I shook it off. I wanted to scream, scream until my lungs give out, scream until I can’t breathe, scream until my best friend is back. My pillow was soaked with tears

Gojo hesitated as he moved closer to the bed. He lifted the covers and climbed in the bed with me while Shoko gave him a confused look. He moved closer to me until we were only a couple inches apart. He listened to me sob into my pillow, quieting my screams. If I could only see the hurt look on his face, I would’ve been broken for good. He suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist and brought me to his chest. One of his arms stays on my back as the other strokes my hair softly

“Let it all out.” Was all he said. I sobbed into his chest, my screams breaking both of their hearts as it is mine. Gojo let silent tears fall down his cheeks as he couldn’t help it, he already lost one best friend and he wasn’t ready to lose another

Shoko stared in concern at the scene in front of her not knowing what to do so she did what she could and sat on the bed next to us. She gently laid her hand on my back and rubbed soothing circles. Both of the physical sentiments seem to help calm me down, soon I was reduced to silent tears and hiccup breaths as I felt my exhaustion consume me

Gojo was panicking on the inside as he held his sleeping tear-stained best friend in his arms. He didn’t want to lose another friend, he’d already lost one and he wasn’t ready to let go of another. He held onto me as tightly as he could without hurting me. His tears still stream down his face quietly as he worries what my future could look like, a sorcerer? A curse user? ….Geto? He quickly ran the idea out of his mind

I fell asleep in the embrace of two of my best friends and I realized something. I may miss old memories, old friends but my most loved ones are right here with me. I can’t have time pass me by while I’m still stuck in the past, yes it takes time to heal and it can’t be done overnight but it has to be done or it’ll consume me

I avoided sleep for the longest time hoping I wouldn’t see his face. I always wondered how he felt in his final weeks before he turned to the other side until I realized, this is how he felt. He felt alone, he felt hatred, he felt sorrow. I don’t think there’s even a word for everything he felt. I felt horrible knowing one of the people I cared about most was suffering in silence for so long and we couldn’t notice

I felt grateful, grateful that I have friends who see me hurting and what I’m going through. Who don’t know how to help but they help anyways, that’s the kind of friends I don’t want to push away. I’m happy to know that I’m not alone through all of this and that if I need someone they’re always there

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mimiii-3 · 1 year

Text

Twst boys react to reader addressing them as “my man”

Note/warning: gn reader, fluff, short-ish reader

. . .

Nrc student makes some snide comment about the twst boy being unable to take care of you. Before the twst boy can respond, you stand up for him.

“I don’t care what you think of us! He’s my man and that’s all you need to know.”

Epel

• happy noises

• this is a dream come true - all he ever wanted was to be seen as a man in your eyes

• pokes his chest out and drapes his arm across your shoulders

• struts off with you by his side

• completely forgets the implications of the nrc student’s comment

• feels giddy for the rest of the day

• walks you back to ramshackle dorm

• gives you extra goodnight kisses on the porch

• can’t get a wink of sleep because the scene keeps replaying in his head

• probably screams into his pillow and kicks his feet

“If I’m your man, then that makes you the love of my life.”

Jack

• was five seconds away from raging out before his brain shut down

• probably didn’t help that you were hanging off of his toned bicep when you called him ‘your man’

• doesn’t even bother reprimanding the student for his rude comment

• leans down and levels his face with yours

• brushes his nose against yours and leans back to stare into your eyes

• still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re his and he’s yours

• follows you back to ramshackle dorm for a much-needed cuddle session

• wraps you in his arms while he nuzzles the top of your head

“No, I was not embarrassed. I was just pleasantly surprised that you admitted it.”

Deuce

• turns from a feral dog into a wide-eyed lap dog

• his originally violent plan flew out the window after you called him ‘your man’

• accidentally lets the student leave unharmed because he’s too busy vibrating from excitement

• holds his head up as you two walk back to class

• has this smug look on his face all throughout your shared classes

• has to finally let go of your hand as you two walk back to your respective dorms

• calls his mom and tells her what happened

• the two of them getting all giddy and planning your wedding

“If you hadn’t distracted me I could have pummeled that scumbag. Well since he’s gone…call me your man again.”

. . .

Note: might do a part two of this with other characters

#twisted wonderland #headcanon #twst headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #twst jack #twst epel #twst deuce #epel felmier #jack howl #deuce spade

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yeoosaangg · 7 months

Text

Ride || Kinktober - Day 1

pairing ▸ kim hongjoong × f!reader

now playing ▸ ride - somo

⤷ ❝i'm gon' take care of your body. i'll be gentle, don't you scream.❞

genre ▸ idol au, established relationship, smut

warnings ▸ virginity loss, fingering, corruption kink, penetration, hair pulling, biting, marking, swearing, praise, slight degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

--------

It's been two months since you last saw your boyfriend.

When you started dating, you understood the implications of such a relationship - the many lonely nights away from each other - but this was just too much.

Insecurities started to settle in as he stopped answering your phone calls and messages. Looking at online comments didn't help you either.

「joong's been fucking, hasn't he?」

「why ateez are getting bitches: a thread」

「and when i give hongjoong that double twist, gawk gawk 3000? THEN WHAT??」

These types of comments usually make you laugh, but you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach looking at them now.

What if Hongjoong is tired of waiting for you to be intimate with him? What if he's secretly sleeping with women behind your back?

That'd explain his lack of communication, right?

Maybe if you were ready to take that next step, he wouldn't leave you.

So you find yourself stripping out of your clothes, only staying in your underwear. You grab one of Hongjoong's hoodies and slip it on.

You inhale his scent, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. You've never actually done this before either, so it's a bit exciting.

You settle yourself in the middle of your shared bed, opening your legs wide. Your hand slips into the white fabric of your thong, middle finger rubbing your clit.

You arch your back, head against the pillow at the feeling.

You whimper your boyfriend's name, pumping one finger inside your dripping cunt. You add another, adding to your pleasure.

Y/n: Fuck. Hongjoong, please.

You add a third finger, feeling stuffed.

It feels so good, you don't hear the front door opening.

You use your thumb to stimulate your clit while pumping harshly into your wet pussy.

Y/n: Gonna cum!

Hongjoong's name slips passed your lips several times, your breathing erratic from your orgasm.

You lay back, yours legs slightly shaking. That was the first time you've ever came. It felt liberating.

Hongjoong: What a beautiful surprise you had for me, princess.

You sit up so fast, staring at your boyfriend with wide eyes and flushed out cheeks.

Y/n: B-Baby? What are you doing here?

Hongjoong: Our tour ended yesterday. Just got back an hour ago.

Y/n: Oh! Welcome home, baby.

You get up, hugging him tightly. You hide in his neck, trying to change the subject.

He had other plans, though. His hands cupped your ass cheeks and lifted you up. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

Hongjoong: Look at you trying to play innocent. You were a greedy little whore, screaming my name just a second ago.

You whine, unconsciously grinding down on his growing bulge. The feeling has you gasping, pressing your forehead against his.

Y/n: Missed you so much. Felt sad.

He frowns, sitting against the headboard while you straddle his lap.

Hongjoong: Why were you sad, precious?

Y/n: You were ignoring me. Got insecure.

Hongjoong: Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. I never meant to neglect you on purpose. I just wanted to surprise you when I came back.

His left hand massages your ass while the other caresses your lower back.

Y/n: Need you to touch me.

He smiles, kissing your lips repeatedly.

Hongjoong: I already am, beautiful.

You whine, too shy to say what you want out loud. You hide in the neck again, feeling him chuckle.

Y/n: Sexually, Joongie.

Oh?

Hongjoong grips your hips tight when you start moving them against his. He needs to be one-hundred percent sure you're ready for this.

Hongjoong: Princess, I need you to tell me exactly what you want. I don't want you to push yourself beyond your comfort zone.

Y/n: Want you inside me. Want you to be my first.

The sound of your whiny voice almost has him coming untouched. You sound so beautiful to him.

He wants to ruin you.

Hongjoong: As you wish, princess.

He guides your hips to grind against him as he devours your lips. You gasp and moan into his mouth, surprised by his aggressiveness.

It's so hot.

He trails his kisses down, sucking on your skin. He watches the marks form, moaning at the sight.

Hongjoong: Turn around for me, baby.

You do as your told, laying back against his chest. He slides his hand into your underwear and you roll your eyes back when his finger slides into you.

Hongjoong: You missed me this much? I can practically feel how much your cunt is throbbing for me.

Y/n: So good! Want more.

Who is he to deny you?

He adds two more fingers, making you choke on your moan.

Hongjoong: Fuck, baby. You're so tight. I wonder if you'll even be able to take my cock.

Y/n: Can I- Oh God, can I cum?

Hongjoong: Go ahead, angel.

You feel your orgasm wash over you, his fingers still pumping into you at a rapid pace.

Y/n: Too much!

Hongjoong: You can take it, love. Need you absolutely soaking before I slide my cock into your needy cunt.

Your legs shake as your third orgasm hits. You scream out his name in desperation. You want him inside you so fucking bad.

He pushes you forward, turning you on your back. He discards your thong, leaving you in his hoodie.

Hongjoong: You look so adorably fuckable like this. Gonna fuck you while you wear my hoodie.

He lines his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing inside you. You whimper, feeling a tight pressure in between your legs.

Hongjoong: You're taking me so well, baby. My good girl.

You bite your lips, keeping your noises at bay.

He kisses your face, letting you adjust to his size. He starts leaving more hickeys down your neck and collarbone.

Y/n: Move please.

He slides out, slamming back into you.

Y/n: Fuck!

He starts with slow, but deep thrusts. Every stroke has both of you moaning. He can feel your walls squeezing around him.

Hongjoong: You feel so good, baby. Look at you taking me in so well. Should I go faster?

Y/n: Yes! Oh God, yes!

He starts pounding into you, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he fucks you.

Drool slides down your face, but you don't care. You let him do whatever he wants as long as his cock continues to fuck you dumb.

His lips kiss down to your neck again, but instead of leaving more hickeys, he starts to bite down.

Y/n: Hongjoong! So fucking good.

He licks over his teeth marks, admiring his work.

Hongjoong: Such a good slut. Letting me mark you, baby.

He sits back on his feet, pushing your legs to your chest and turning you around. The new position has Hongjoong fucking you deeper than you thought possible.

Your face is pressed down on the bed, his fingers lacing through your hair. He pulls your head back, using your hair to rock you against his cock.

Hongjoong: Baby, you're doing so good. Making me feel good.

Y/n: Gonna cum.

Hongjoong: Hold it, baby. Let me watch your swollen cunt swallow my cock. So perfect for me.

His free hand slips under the hoodie to fondle your breasts, making you cry. You don't know if you can hold it any longer.

Hongjoong: You're gonna come for me in 5...

He moves his hand down to rub at your clit. You scream, wanting to release already.

Hongjoong: 4... 3...

Y/n: Please. Oh, fuck!

He slaps your clit, making you jerk back into him. The movement only added to your desperation.

Hongjoong: 2... 1. Cum for me, princess.

You scream, clawing at the sheets as your orgasm hits you harder this time.

You try to catch your breath, but your boyfriend continues fucking you into overstimulation. You continue to drool on the sheets, feeling his thrusts getting sloppy.

He pulls out, pumping his cock until he cums all over your back.

Both of your heavy breaths can be heard in the room. He moves away from you, heading into the bathroom.

Y/n: Where you going?

Hongjoong: Just went to get a bath started, precious. I'm not leaving you.

Y/n: Oh, okay.

He gently scoops you in his arms, setting you down on the cold sink. You whine at the feeling, earning lots of kisses.

Hongjoong: Sorry, love. Was I too rough?

Y/n: You were perfect. I'm glad my first time was with you.

Hongjoong: Thank you for trusting me with something as precious as your virginity, Y/n. I love you.

Y/n: I love you, too.

---

a/n: the things i'd let this man do to me... remember, everyone: delulu is the solulu! lmao, thanks for reading ‹𝟹

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Text

summary. you’re watching a new anime and you happen to fixate on a certain character that looks like your boyfriend…

pairings. jungkook x reader (f)

genre. fluff!!! suggestive?? implications of sex towards the end

warnings. uhm jungkook cosplaying as suwa rei :o let’s imagine jungkook’s sides are shaved but he has that haircut from his boxing live?? ok?

note. this is my first jungkook work and i just watched the recent ep of buddy daddies and IMMEDIATELY had to write this bc it hit me that rei and kook have the same hair *screams* also y’all remember jungkook had the shaved sides??? YEAH. YEAH.

—

“please!”

“no.”

“pleeaase!”

“noooo.”

you huff out a breath. “and if i run away and marry him?” you say questioningly, crossing your arms.

jungkook lets out a chuckle, not minding you any business as he prepares himself a late night snack, ramen.

“ok baby, go ahead.” he nods without any thought, stirring the seasonings in the pot carefully.

do you watch anime all the time? yeah, when you have the free time. he does too. sometimes both of you even cuddle together on the couch and binge watch a new show he or you have mentioned. you take a liking to certain characters, he can see a pattern, and gush over them occasionally during a scene where they pop up. for instance, you both are watching chainsaw man. he doesn’t know how, but you fell in “love” with the character aki. are tsundere men you’re type? is he tsundere?

“kook,” you spoke out, using your upper strength to push yourself off to sit on the countertop.

he hums in response.

you sigh, “baby, i just want to see what you’d look like. come on, a bad ass, game lover, hitman.” you expressed, he doesn’t have to look at you to see that you have those hopeful, beaming eyes. because he knows. he falls for them every time.

jungkook’s ramen is done and he takes the pot off the burner with a cork pot holder in his other hand to sit at the table. “why do you want to see me dress up as him so bad? you’ve never asked me to dress up as any of the other characters you’ve liked.”

you bite your lip, nervously. “yeah, cause i know you would’ve said no and i was too shy to ask. but kook, you’ll literally cosplay this man to a T!” imagining your boyfriend dressed up as suwa rei, from buddy daddies, an anime you recently started. one that popped up on your tiktok and you had found the plot quite interesting.

you realized you’re being ignored when jungkook slurps up a mouthful of noodles and is making angry noises as he chews.

huffing and jumping down from the counter. “fine, i’m going to assume you are thinking about it right now and don’t want to make your cute girlfriend said so i’ll ask you again later.” you ruffle the top of his messy, curly head and leave the kitchen to let him eat peacefully.

you had honestly forgot about it, a couple hours have passed and you’re finishing up an assignment you completely forgot that was due tomorrow as soon as you step foot into the class. you were in your room, sitting on your bed, back resting against a pillow against the headboard as you were quickly typing half-assed answers.

you assumed jungkook was showering, hearing the water running and some noises echo out from the door. he wasn’t crying for help, so all was good and you continued your work.

“babe?” jungkook calls out from the bathroom.

still typing but responding nonetheless, “yeah?”

“can you close your eyes?” your fingers pause above the keyboard, your head turning towards your bathroom door as you spot his feet’s silhouette.

you told your head, confused. “why?”

“just do it.”

“okay,” you do as you were told. “i can no longer see.” you responded, making jungkook giggle slightly which made the corners of your lips turn upward a bit.

after a few seconds of silence you hear the door open.

you hear him huff, “ok, open them now.” he mumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

slowly opening your eyes as you are met with your boyfriend standing before you, his hair slightly damp from the shower he just took, assuming he towel dried it. he’s dressed neck down in a black blazer paired with black dress pants that hug his muscular thighs. a white collar underneath with the grey little waistcoat and a maroon tie. to top it all off, his hair is up, he even remembered to let out a strand dangle, his shaved side burns being revealed.

jungkook is tugging his lip ring with his teeth as he nervously eyes you crawl off the bed with your mouth slightly open. he’s never really been into cosplaying, not sure if he could pull it off like the people he’s seen on social media, but he wants to pull it off in front of you.

“do i look silly?” his hands are tugging at the ends of his blazer, your eyes following it as you gasp with a hand over your mouth.

he even has gloves on.

jungkook’s eyes widen, “what? i look bad? do i look–“

you shake your head, quickly cutting him off as you admire the man in front of you right now.

“no, no, god no, kook. you look fucking hot.” making sure to emphasize the last word. you extend your arm to hold onto the fabric of his clothes, all of a sudden your legs feel like jelly.

he’s quick to hold onto you, tugging you against his front. “careful baby, this suit is designer.” he tells you, smirking. oh, now he’s confident.

“ugh, fuck you. god why are you so hot!” you push yourself away from his hold, voluntarily face planting onto your bed as you kick your feet in frustration.

you hear jungkook chuckling behind you as he slides his hands into the pockets of his pants. “don’t you want to take pictures? this won’t happen again…” jungkook sings out. he’s highly amused on how him dressed up as your favorite character has you acting all frustrated. perhaps, sexually frustrated??

immediately your heard perks up as you frantically search for your phone.

“can we have sex when you’re done playing photographer?” he asks during mid-shoot, continuously posing for you, even trying to mimic rei’s hard glare he has all the time.

“duh.”

#yeow6n #jungkook as suwa rei??!?#my first jungkook writing >:)#jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook short fluff #boyfriend!jungkook #jungkook suggestive

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multi-fandom-of-madness · 7 months

Text

Steam

Flufftober Day 7: Embrace

Pairings: Rain X Dewdrop

Type: Angst w/ comfort

Summary: Dewdrop feels helpless. He has a new element, a new pack, and a new frontman. Everything has changed, and he can’t cope alone. Thankfully, Rain is there to help.

Warnings: PTSD/implications of PTSD, panic attack, mental break down, physical self harm, blood, self-hatred, non-sexual nudity, implications of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 2,155

Notes: Read here on ao3. Find my flufftober prompt list here. Please read the warnings for this one. There are a lot of descriptions of blood and self-harm, along with the implication of suicidal thoughts. Please make sure that you are taking care of yourselves and reach out to someone you trust if you have to <3

Everyone could smell the angry, smoke-filled scent radiating from Dewdrop’s bunk. They could hear the muffled sobs. His privacy curtain was drawn shut, but they could see his tail sticking out, pointed downward. He didn’t even have the energy to lift it into his bunk. No one wanted to ask what was wrong. They hardly even knew Dewdrop yet.

The only ghouls who had been with Dewdrop when he got in his head like this were Aether and Mountain. Cirrus, Cumulus, Rain, and Swiss were all new…too uncertain of how to help. Aether and Mountain made their attempts to calm Dewdrop down, but they both were sent away, their tails hanging in defeat.

He stayed in his bunk until it was time to get ready for that night’s show, and even then, he remained isolated from the rest. He got ready, then found an unused room to hide in until it was time to hit the stage.

He kept to himself for the most part, unless someone else prompted an interaction. Even then, he didn’t enjoy them. He snarled at Aether on multiple occasions whenever he felt the quintessence ghoul was too close for too long. Hissing at both Copia and Rain if they got too close.

Even at bows, he tried to push himself to the end, closest to the exit. Begrudgingly, he was sandwiched between Aether and Swiss. He couldn’t help the low, rumbling growl that resided in the back of his throat until he was let go.

As soon as he could, he practically bolted offstage. He changed as quickly as he could, only having a few moments of privacy until the others came in. He pushed through the small crowd and out to the bus, curling back up in his bunk.

Everyone else piled onto the bus, being met with the stench of Dew’s anger and hurt, and even though they hadn’t been here long, they knew better than to continue to test him. They made it to the hotel, and he only stayed around long enough to grab his key before running to his room, claiming the bed closest to the window, and letting his glamour drop.

He was finally alone, knowing the others were going out to a bar tonight. He had a few hours until whoever he was rooming with would be back.

He was fueled by hatred toward himself and his packmates (both past and present). He didn’t want the new ghouls. He wanted his ghouls back. The ones who knew him inside and out as if he were a part of them. Sure, he had Aether and Mountain, but he didn’t have the others, and it wasn’t the same.

He didn’t even have himself to rely on. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was forced into being something completely new. Water to fire. He hated himself for being so naive as to think the Clergy would treat him with any form of respect. He was a fool to think that they would treat him like something other than an animal. But that’s all he was to them: a creature to control on their own whim.

He didn’t want to be touring without the comfort and security of his old pack. Yet here he was, sobbing into a hotel pillow, utterly alone.

He could just cry it out, and not have to listen to anyone pity him. They didn’t know what he was going through, and they wouldn’t. They weren’t forced to change. He was a lost cause.

He writhed on the bed, screaming at nothing as he threw pillows and blankets. He clawed at his clothes. He felt claustrophobic. He could feel the walls closing in, and he wished for nothing more than to fade away and disappear into the bedsheets, never to be seen again.

He smelled a familiar petrichoral scent wafting into the room before the door opened. He shoved his fist in his mouth, hoping to muffle the pained sounds that were leaving his mouth. His fangs, tearing at the skin on his knuckles. He wanted to scream at Rain to get out, but didn’t trust his voice.

He was shaking and sobbing in silence. The water ghoul didn’t even come near him, but Dewdrop could tell that he wanted to. He could smell the longing on him. It made Dewdrop’s heart shatter more.

“Dew?” Rain called out after setting his bag down. Dewdrop heard his voice as if Rain were floating in the puff of smoke that clouded his mind.

“G-go away,” he whispered. He tried not to let his voice crack, but he couldn’t help it. His voice came out cracked. He sounded fragile…broken…pathetic.

Rain was conflicted. He wanted to listen to Dewdrop and just let him be, but there was something inside him telling him not to. He walked over to where Dewdrop was laying and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I said go away,” he sobbed, trying to appear tough. His legs were drawn up to his chest, and his tail was wrapped around him protectively.

He didn’t want Rain to see him like this. Hurting, naked, vulnerable. He was supposed to be strong and wise, but he felt nothing more than weak.

His body was burning hot as Rain put a cool, gentle hand on his shoulder. Dewdrop flinched, but Rain persisted. “Hey…can you look at me?”

Dewdrop shook his head. He hated Rain and the way he was so damn gentle. He took Dewdrop’s spot, and even though he was summoned after Dewdrop’s change, a part of him felt the need to blame him.

Dew clawed at his skin, desperate to get away from the heat coursing through him. He could smell the tangy metallic liquid pouring from where he dug into his flesh.

Rain immediately pulled Dew’s hands away from his body.

Dewdrop thrashed about, screaming at the top of his lungs. “GET OFF!! DON’T TOUCH ME!!” He shouted, trying to get out of Rain’s grasp. Rain wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight against his chest, and after a few more seconds of fighting, Dewdrop just…collapses.

He grabbed onto Rain’s shirt, blood and tears staining the gray cotton, which now had holes from it where Dew’s claws managed to attack. Rain held him tight, trying to shush him and whisper comforting words in his ears, dropping his glamour to let Dewdrop feel the comfort radiating from someone similar to him rather than a foreign body.

Dew buried his face into Rain’s neck. Every word Rain spoke was muffled as Dewdrop sobbed.

Rain kept his arms around Dewdrop, bringing one to comb through Dewdrop’s hair, undoing the braid that Dewdrop didn’t have the energy to take out, untangling the knots.

“Breathe for me, Dewdrop…nice and slow…breathe with me if it helps,” Rain whispered, slowing his breathing until Dewdrop could follow the pattern.

The wailing stopped after a few minutes. Tears still fell and whimpers were still heard, yet he couldn’t find the strength in him to scream anymore.

“There…I’m here, Dew…you’re safe.”

Dewdrop shook his head. “N-no,” he managed to stammer out.

Rain’s hand stutters in Dew’s hair, but doesn’t stop. He understands to a point. He understands that Dewdrop still hasn’t left the idea that he’s still a part of his old pack. He hasn’t had the time to process. He doesn’t feel safe with Rain. It’s not how he would feel if Rain were someone else.

Rain puts his cheek against Dew’s head and wraps his tail around Dewdrop’s burning naked body, giving Dew as many points of contact as he needs. “Okay, that’s okay…I know…I’m sorry,” Rain mumbles against his hair.

They sit in almost complete silence. The lack of noise only being interrupted by Dewdrop’s shaky breath and whimpers. It feels like hours before Rain speaks up.

“I’m going to carry you to the shower…is that okay?” He asks gently.

Dewdrop nods, fearing the idea that his voice will be too raw to get any words out.

Without saying anything further, Rain lifts Dewdrop out of the bed, carrying him over to the brightly lit bathroom. He sits Dewdrop on the counter for only a few minutes to turn on the shower and grab Dewdrop clothes.

He comes back to see Dewdrop digging his claws into his chest as if he were trying to scratch his own heart out. Rain drops the clothes and runs toward him.

“No, no, no, please don’t do that.” Rain gently grabs his hand and holds them away from Dew’s body. “Dew, honey, please don’t hurt yourself.”

“B-burns,” Dew croaks out. “I can’t- I can’t do this.”

Rain watches a single tear flow down Dewdrop’s cheek as he says that. “Can’t do what? You can tell me.”

“I-I thought that I could…I could be fire, but…I’m not.”

Rain’s heart shatters. He doesn’t know what to say. The thing that made Dewdrop who he is…was changed by force. The thing that Dewdrop knew would keep him safe now turned against him. “I’m…I’m so sorry, Dewdrop. I wish I could help…I don’t know how, and I am so sorry.”

Dewdrop doesn’t respond. He hangs his head and stares at his crimson stained claws in Rain’s gentle hands.

“I’m going to get you into the shower, okay? We can wash some of this blood and sweat off of you. Get you more comfortable.”

“O-okay…”

Rain steps into the shower, still fully clothed, holding the frail fire ghoul against him as the water turns red below them. Dewdrop doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the bloody water pooling at his feet and sinking down the drain. Rain frowns, then grabs one of the washcloths to wipe away some of the blood that’s already dried.

“I’m going to wash your hair, alright?”

Dew nods again, and Rain grabs the hotel provided shampoo. He would have gone out and grabbed Dew’s personal shampoo, but he doesn’t trust that Dew won’t hurt himself again.

He won’t admit it, but Dewdrop is mostly grateful that Rain isn’t leaving him alone. There’s a part of him trying to scream at him to push Rain out and claw his face off. He pushes it down as he feels Rain’s hands massaging the cool shampoo into his hair.

His breathing is shaky, but finally becoming steady. Rain is the only thing keeping him upright…keeping him alive…keeping him safe.

“Thank you,” he whispers. It’s barely heard over the water rushing over them, but Rain hears it.

“You don’t need to. I’m here for you. I know…I know I’m not part of your old pack, but I’m here for you.”

Dewdrop hangs his head, feeling guilty for making Rain seem like an outcast. Throughout all of his own pain and his misery, he’s made everyone feel unwelcome.

Rain rinses his hair out, and he can see the gears turning in his brain. Once all of the suds are washed out, he turns Dew around to look at him. “Don’t listen to your head. It isn’t telling you the truth right now. I am here. I’m not going anywhere unless you absolutely want me to.”

“I know…I just…I feel so helpless right now,” he admits.

“Then lean on me. I can be your support system if you need one,” Rain assures, pulling Dewdrop into a hug, letting the water wash over them.

Once the water runs mostly clear, Rain pulls Dewdrop out of the shower, drying him off and bandaging the scrapes and gashes carved into Dewdrop’s skin. He goes to grab Dewdrop’s clothes next, but Dew pulls him back. “No…”

“No clothes?” Dewdrop nods his head. “Okay,” Rain sighs as he thinks. “What about boxers?”

“...okay.”

Rain grabs a pair of boxers for Dewdrop and a pair for himself. He holds them for Dew to step in, and Dew puts his hands on Rain’s shoulders to steady himself. Rain pulls them up so that Dewdrop is somewhat covered, then changes out of his own soaked clothes and into his own pair of boxers.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Dew nods again, giving Rain the okay to carry him to bed. He set’s Dewdrop down on his bed, and pulls the covers over him while Rain strips the other bed. He isn’t sure how he’ll end up explaining to Copia or the hotel staff how the blood ended up on the comforter, but he’ll come up with something later.

He crawls into bed with Dewdrop, and Dew immediately pulls him closer. He’s still shaking, but his scent has changed, and his body temperature is fading back to normal.

He falls asleep like that, wrapped up in Rain’s cool embrace.

This new scent is one Rain hasn’t experienced close up before. It’s like cinnamon and a campfire on a warm night. He presses a small kiss to Dew’s forehead and squeezes Dew a little tighter when he finally recognizes the scent. Finally recognizing that Dewdrop feels safe.

96 notes · View notes

cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 9 days

Note

If possible, could you please write Karin (Street Fighter) and Mitsuru (Persona) with M!S/O's who jokingly call them his "Sugar Mommy's" because he thinks it's funny?

Now! Your wish is my command!

The first time you said it, she nearly exploded from the embarrassment.

Her face was redder than her jacket and she nearly choked on air.

The poor girl was in shambles at what you said.

It took her the better part of an hour to get her composure back.

And do you know what made it worse for her?

She couldn’t really argue it.

She was basically your “Sugar Mommy”.

Though… that did mean she could pull rank on you whenever she wants…

She was tempted to let the power rush to her head.

However, she was above holding something like that over someone’s head.

Oh who was she kidding.

No she wasn’t.

She had no idea what it was when you called her for the first time.

When she asked you what it meant you just said “Oh Mitsuru, you sweet innocent thing, never change.”

This confused Mitsuru immensely.

And seeing as she probably won’t be getting an answer out of you, she decided to ask the only person that came to mind when it came to something like this.

Junpei Iori.

A few hours and a short explanation later, Mitsuru was face down on her bed, screaming into her pillow.

Is that what you and her relationship looked like on the outside?

Sure, she wouldn’t mind having everyone know that you were hers thanks to some jewelry, or clothes, or some other knick knack.

However, she had no idea how she would even THINK about the implications people could draw from that.

On the other hand…

An image of you wearing a nice outfit that matched her own perfectly as the two of you walked through the city shot through her mind.

It may just be more than worth it.

#mitsuru kirijo x reader #mitsuru kirijo #karin kanzuki x reader #karin kanzuki #street fighter #street fighter x reader #persona #persona 3 x reader #persona 3

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dreamingofyeo · 4 months

Text

𓏲๋࣭ ࣪ A siren's song࿐࿔𖦹ִ

Chapter 1 : Tempted fate ࿐࿔𖦹ִ

~ details in masterlist

~ playlist

~ 989 words

~ chapter warnings: implication/reference to sa, sexism, mild gore

~☆彡 tumblr's algorithm works off of reblogs so please consider it if you like my work :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, there is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold..” The lyrics trail away from your lips, taking to humming the calm melody instead resting your arms on the wooden railing before you. The sea breeze combs its cold fingers through your hair, sending it slightly floating behind you.

“Shouldn’t be doin’ that missy, brings bad luck.”

The raspy voice sounds from behind you, you don’t turn to face it. The crew member walks over to you and leans over the railing himself.

“This crew believes my being here on this voyage to be bad luck enough, it can’t hurt” you say under your breath, neither expecting nor wanting an answer.

“Don’t tempt fate, it’s unwise on the most welcoming of seas.” He gives you a long glance before walking back to whatever he’d been tending to on the deck.

You lay awake that night, restless. Sleep is evading you.

You were brought upon this voyage to visit your relatives, across the sea. The journey should only take a few days, but that feels too long on this ship. These relatives are people you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, but as relations to your late mother, it is customary that your father would bring you with him to deliver the news in person, and possibly return with them for the funeral. From the little knowledge you had of them, they weren’t the most pleasant of folk, furthering your reluctance to the journey, as if the crew’s opinion of your being here be not enough of a reason to detest every moment on the vessel. You desire to be on land, mourning in the comfort of your family home, not here.

The sound of movement on the deck and various loud noises furthers your annoyance. It’s well past 3am right now, and they’re causing a ruckus?

Wishing more than ever for sleep to take you, you roll from your back to your side and bring the end of the pillow to your uncovered ear; only to throw it back and sit bolt upright at the sound of the first gunshot.

And then a second, and then the sounds of swords join the harrowing mix of screams and shouts.

You dress yourself as quickly and efficiently as you can, there is no telling what is happening, but if you get dragged into it you’re sure as hell not being- or dying- in your nightdress. You fasten a dagger under the ruffles of your dress, it can’t hurt to be too prepared.

You silently thank yourself for the intuition to do so as your door slams open against the planked wall of your room. A disgusting face illuminated by the lantern at your bedside, a devilish grin spreads to his lips, exposing his yellowed, crooked teeth.

“Come here miss, and it won’t get ugly.” He snides, tilting his head to the side, eyeing your figure.

Frankly, you’re terrified. You’re safer out there than in your room alone with this man though, so you take the hint and walk towards him.

One foot in front of the other. Turn off your mind. Don’t think, don’t feel. Just walk.

As you reach him, he wraps a calloused filthy hand around your arm, the grime dirtying the fabric sleeving it. He drags you through the walkway and onto the deck.

The sight that greets you chills you to your very soul. The crew slaughtered, your father on his knees before a man with his back to you. The dark figure wears a long frayed coat, cutlas sticking through one of the gaps. An exuberant hat atop his head, matted long hair sticking out from beneath it in an unkempt fashion. Pirate captain.

The man gripping your arm speaks up, you try your best not to jump at the sudden noise.

“Captain, found this pretty thing back there, what’s your call?”

The captain turns around, the lanterns hanging on the deck showing you his scarred features despite the mist snaking across the deck.

“Ah you have, have you, Broner? From the looks of it, the little mouse is your daughter, is she not? Considering the look on your face, that is. Hmm, unless she’s yours. In which case, I should rather say bravo.” He laughs at your father grimly, the members of his crew making themselves known in the darkness by matching his laughter.

He steps to the side and you see your father. Though eyes are enraged, his body is broken. He is fading from the world. A choked sob escapes you.

“Father…”

“Ah so it is the primary assumption, all the better, you’re unspoiled.” He turns on his heel to you with an evil smirk.

“Don’t, don’t touch her.” Your father rasps out, his pain is punctuated by a weak cough spraying blood across the captains boots.

The captain chuckles lightly, squatting down to eye level with your father, you struggle against Broner’s grasp. He holds you firm, digging his jagged nails into your arm, you bite back the wince.

“Those are my favourite boots.”

He pulls out a pistol and fires it straight through your father.

The scream that is pulled from you could move mountains.

The captain stands, wiping your father’s bloody spray from his face, and turns to you.

“Take her aboard. She is to remain unspoiled, do not disrupt our plans.”

It’s then that you register the ship to your right. A blood red sail billowing from its mast. You know this ship. You’ve heard the stories. Its the Crimson. That captain is none other than Vervona. He’s said to be half mad, a man who sold his very soul to the devil. As evil and deranged as they come.

Maybe the crew member you didn’t even care to learn the name of earlier was right. You really should not have tempted fate on these waters.

<- Prologue ~ chapter 2 ->

*prologue is important please read it :)

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