#sorry for the absurdly long post!!!!
Note
Please tell me more about your human welcome home au 👀
!! gladly!!
i don't remember what i said in the first - and like... only lmao - post about it so if i restate some things! fuckign oopsie! (a lot of this is just Barnaby &/or Wally asbdjasj im sorry) also this got! so fucking long!
~ (im gonna talk about their middle/highschool years a lot so keep in mind the time frame is late 90s / early 2000s. they graduate high in either 2006/2007. so. yk. obvious warning for homophobia, transphobia, etc)
fun lil thing no.1)
so Barnaby & Wally briefly meet for the first time in the summer before 7th grade. the town Barnaby grows up & goes to school in isn't tiny, but it's not huge either. - i don't have a very good frame of reference for how many students are typically in a school, bc in both my middle/high there was at least nearly 2k of us. - so we'll just say it's smaller than that - a respectable, normal size, however many students that is. but Barnaby's school rarely, if ever, got any new kids.
so Wally randomly appeared on the edge of the Beagle farm one day, staring directly at Barnaby from across the fields. before Barnaby could go say hi, Wally vanished - but! on the first day of 7th grade, they wound up sharing a class. ofc within the day Wally was known as not only the new kid, but a weird kid at that. for the first week he sat next to a kid who had zeroed in on that and was an ass about it. Barnaby - already having an established rep as class clown & also widely well-liked by his peers - would try to stand up for Wally (from across the room) whenever that kid was being a dick to Walls in front of the class
by the end of that first week, seating arrangements were shifted, and Barnaby was seated next to Wally for the first semester instead. ofc the moment Barnaby sat down, he tried to strike up conversation and cracked a killer joke. and Wally, as we all know, doesn't laugh. he doesn't even blink! it rattles Barnaby to his core - not everyone laughs at his jokes, but there's always some kind of reaction!
class begins before Barnaby can be like "hey that. that was a joke. you're supposed to laugh". the whole hour all he can think about is the strange new kid next to him Who Didn't React To Barnaby's Joke. when the bell rings, Barnaby lingers as Wally (very slowly) packs up to go to his next class and walks him there. on the way he explains the joke, and Wally does the whole "oh. ha ha." thing. this all makes Barnaby very late to his next class (he's usually very punctual and never late - he doesn't want to disappoint his mama!) but for once he does not care.
Barnaby has been struck with this soul-deep need to get a genuine reaction out of Wally. he needs to make that guy actually laugh. it's all he can think about. he seeks Wally out for lunch, tries to find him after school (can't), looks for him in the halls. and to be clear! this is all very platonic! well, ok, these two kinda muddle the line BUT they have no romantic interest in each other. Barnaby just... really wants to be the new kid's friend. he wants to make him laugh. it's a friendship crush! platonic yearning! an inescapable desire to please & be accepted! he wants Wally's approval so so badly!
basically, Barnaby says "you're the weirdest person i've ever met (affectionate, intrigued, entranced)" and Wally replies "thank you (proud)"
fun lil thing no.2)
in my mind, Barnaby was a small kid. he was one of those kids who seemed like they were either gonna stay short, or just barely reach average height. he got his main growth spurt when he was like.... 16. it was very sudden. he lived the classic trope of "teen gets way taller over the summer and startles everyone on the first day of school". im talkin he goes from around 5'7 to 6'3. shoots right up like bamboo! and he's still not full height yet! mf is gonna cap out at 6'6!
on the flip side, Howdy was always just. so tall. he was that kid who towered over his peers from the start! ofc he got teased relentlessly for it (along with the transatlantic accent he started talking w/ at a young age and refuses to stop - among other eccentricities), but yk. he already got constant comments from his huge family about it, so he grew a thick skin pretty early on.
Poppy, on the other hand - the last of the three giants - had it worse than both of them! she wasn't outright taller than Howdy, and didn't have a sudden growth spurt like Barnaby, but steadily grew over the years until she was the tallest teen in town. this hit her hard bc not only did it draw unwanted attention to her & make her a target, but it made her dysphoria way worse (Poppy doesn't realize she's trans until highschool, and then doesnt medically transition until her early 20s)
but! once she started getting super tall, Howdy essentially glued himself to her a la "we tall guys gotta stick together!" a classic 'extrovert adopts introvert' thing. Poppy had no say in the matter.
fun lil thing no.3)
everyone's family sucks - except for Barnaby's, Howdy's, and Eddie's. well, mostly Eddie's. in my head they meant well but just... didn't really see the harm they were doing to him. he never spoke up, and they never saw him deeper than surface level.
but Frank's family? horrible. eugh. he was the school's "out gay kid" - not of his own choice! his peers picked up on it because it was very obvious. then the teachers heard, and let his parents know because of course they did, etc etc. Frank's home life was already shitty, and then getting outed (without any real proof or confirmation) made it a hundred times worse. he was a pretty depressed teen (emo Frank lets go) with mild anger issues & a habit for picking fights. but anyway on his eighteenth birthday he packed up his essentials into a backpack, escaped out the back, and never returned.
and Julie's siblings were alright, but their parents and grandparents were all very ~traditional~. it wasn't as rough as Frank's - it was more of a neglectful, passive-aggressive "you're all disappointments' household. ex: Jonesy was known as the local pothead & dealer, and his parents essentially pretend he's not part of the family despite him living in their basement. Bea had a bad (untrue) reputation, Franny was the goth weirdo who people blamed for their problems, etc. and then Julie was always different from "normal girls", and so her parents chalked her up as a mistake as well. but hey! at least the sibs were in it together! and the parents didn't care if Frank stayed over!
Poppy's family was great up until her parents caught her trying on a skirt Sally had made for her. it was a horrible, terrible downhill slide from there. they forced her to join the basketball team, made her keep her door open at all times, etc. for a while she couldn't even see her friends, though eventually they started sneaking in through her window & passing her notes in class. messaging in a 'secret' chatroom yk how it is. Poppy never directly stood up to her parents (very understandable & valid) but she rebelled in small ways. lying about having an after-school thing so that she could be with her friends, convincing her parents to let her go to a study group when in reality she'd be having a girls' night with Sally & Julie & Julie's sisters @ the Beagle farm.
Sally's family was similar to Julie's in that they were more lukewarm towards her than outright abusive. they thought she was too loud, too flamboyant, too expensive, too obvious, pretty much too everything. they wanted her to be normal - Sally wanted to stand on the roof and wax (loud) poetic about damsels. she wasn't outright bullied for being gay like Frank was, but it was certainly a common rumor that she was a lesbian. as a result, most of the girls at school wanted nothing to do with her, and the guys loved to provide commentary on the subject. her parents tried their best to ignore that truth and acted like she was totally straight. sure. still, Sally always refused to compromise on who she was, and treated it all like a mild annoyance. totally didn't hurt her at all. yep. (sarcasm)
there isn't anything known about Wally's family. not even Barnaby knows about them. the group tossed theories around (amongst themselves) over the years - was he an orphan? foster kid? was his family / home life so horrific that he doesn't want anyone to know? all they know is that he became an emancipated minor as young as legally possible and started living in Home, his (admittedly very spacious & high quality) RV. and they didn't even know about that until their junior year except for Frank
on the other side of the coin!
Ms. Beagle was the friend group's favorite adult growing up. the Beagle Farm was a common refuge & hangout spot for them, and Ms. Beagle let all of Barnaby's strange & delightful little friends know that there's always a guest room open for them, should they ever need it. and as a respected member of the community (and provider for the best chicken eggs in town), anyone who tried to speak up against the kids was Immediately shut the fuck down. Ms. Beagle took no shit. if people were talking ill about that "group of depraved teenage fuckups" and Ms. Beagle turned the corner, all conversation would cease until she was well out of earshot. she likes to say that she has 6 kids, all of whom she loves dearly and is very proud of <3
Howdy's family is too damn big to care. not in a neglectful way, just in a "oh, you're friends with... who was it again? Franz? invite him over to dinner someti- STOP PUNCHING YOUR BROTHER-" there's too much chaos, too many things to keep track of to care if Howdy's friends are gay, or trans, or absolutely fucking bizarre. they'll blend right in! Howdy could bring them over for dinner without telling his family and none of them would blink twice! Howdy mentioned that his friends have bad home lives Once and his parents immediately insisted that he bring them over for next week's thanksgiving so that they don't have to deal with that during what should be a holiday. thus began the All Six Of Us + Ms. Beagle + Franny/Bea/Jonesy Attend The Pillar Family Thanksgiving. its incredibly chaotic every time. there's so many fucking people. they're too busy fighting for survival (bread rolls) to bother with manners or awkwardness. every time they leave feeling like they fought a war. none of the friend group has missed a single year.
fun thing no.idontremember!
Wally & Barnaby have had three fights. each are catastrophic and threatened to tear the friend group apart. because those two are closer than anyone - they are each others person. they would both rather chug rat poison than willingly hurt each other. and while Barnaby - a pretty easygoing guy - can get riled up, Wally... really can't. he's never angry. even things that Should make him angry only make him confused or sad. he's too kind, too earnest, a bit of a pushover. he'll just take it with a smile.
so when Wally stands his ground, they all know shit is going tf down. code red, everyone brace. and if he stands his ground against Barnaby? pack a fucking go-bag and ditch town until the storm blows over.
the first time was when Barnaby found out that Wally lives in a damn RV. Wally got weirdly defensive about it, Barnaby was upset that Wally never even told him but somehow Frank knew (he had a bad night & couldn't go home, Julie was unavailable, and Wally found him and took him to the RV for the night) & that Wally is living alone in an RV at all, etc etc - it was a huge fight. & it just kept getting worse. when Barnaby tried to get Wally to move to the farm - that was the first time he's ever heard Wally snap at anyone, let alone him. and since the friend group is fully established at this point, and they're all hopelessly entangled in each others' lives, it affects all of them. sides have to be chosen - there is no neutral party on this. Wally ended up vanishing for a week without a word, and his RV vanished from where it had been parked thus far. the group was in shambles. when Wally turned back up, he actively avoided them all. it took Barnaby tracking down the rv and not leaving until Wally talked to him to have a conversation and fix things. but hey! the disaster actually helped them get even closer!
the second fight was when Barnaby had to go back to the Beagle Farm for their second year of community (Ms. Beagle had a minor accident and needed his help running the farm). Wally wanted to drop out too & go with him, and it turned into a big deal of Barnaby trying to get him to stay while Wally gets unusually pushy & upset about it. the fight wasn't nearly as bad as the RV one, and was more just sad/distressing, but it was still a fight. they parted on less than stellar terms, which they both felt horrible about. Wally has to go through the last year of community alone - he hasn't been alone in many years at this point, and since they met he's never been without Barnaby.
the third fight comes many years later, and this one is the worst. the friend group has all graduated university(those that attended), they're living in the same town, Barnaby & Wally (technically) share a house, Eddie is part of the group now. once again, its over everyone's favorite RV, Home. Home is very old at this point - Wally has had it for around 15 years, and he didn't get it new, and it's been through a lot. Wally is still half living in it, even though it's starting to fall apart. Barnaby brings up the notion that maybe it's time to send the old thing off to a dump, or find a way to put it in storage. they can't keep up the upkeep. it's time to say goodbye to it. Wally flips his fucking lid - or his version of it, anyway. because, uh. no. absolutely fucking not. it's already a very touchy subject, and emotions rise fast. Wally initially shuts down the conversation immediately. over the next week or so, few weeks maybe, tension between Barnaby & Wally simmers. the entire friend group is holding their breath. Barnaby wants the RV gone, as sad as he is about it. Wally won't allow it. of course they reach a breaking point - Barnaby pulls the "i own the property its parked on" card, Wally threatens to leave. of course that scares Barnaby, but that fear mixes with the anger and he fully yells at Wally for the first time. and then Wally shoves him. or tries to - it does nothing physically, but emotionally? it immediately drains all anger from the situation. Wally has never purposefully raised a hand against anyone ever, for any reason. and yet he tried to shove Barnaby. Wally immediately turns tail and runs - he locks himself in the RV, and Barnaby goes to Howdy's.
at Howdy's, Wally calls Barnaby. at first Barnaby jumps at the chance to apologize and try to work something out, but then he recognizes the background noise - Wally is driving Home somewhere. that RV is absolutely not fucking safe to drive anymore. the conversation immediately derails and goes from 0 to 100 within a second. Howdy is off to the side nervously sipping at his beer as Barnaby argues w/ Wally. the phone call abruptly cuts off, Barnaby says "the little bastard hung up on me" and starts Ranting. he says things he doesn't mean, obviously, and Howdy is trying to get him to chill tf out. he's just too angry/scared/hurt/worried yk?
but don't worry Barnaby! Wally didn't hang up on you! yeah so a while later (a little over an hour i think), Barnaby gets a call! it's from the town hospital! yeah so he's Wally's emergency contact, and apparently Wally "hanging up on him" was actually Wally getting into a horrendous accident. it wasn't his fault! there was a drunk driver! but it's... bad. the drunk driver had died in the crash, and since it was night and no one was around, help was a long time coming for Wally. its a miracle that someone found him & called an ambulance in time! so Barnaby realizes that the whole time he was talking shit & being angry, his best friend was slowly dying in a ditch somewhere, alone and in pain. and that's a whole thing!
time for some fun "facts"!
the first time Eddie went over to Frank's place, he immediately fainted when Frank turned the lights on & Eddie saw that he was surrounded by pet tanks filled with Very Large Bugs. then he fainted again when Frank removed the tarantula from its tank to clean said tank.
Wally & Barnaby's cat is named Welcome! she's usually small & pitch black with a permanently bristled tail! she's actually Barnaby's - he found her in a park as a kitten, and her unnerving stare reminded him of Wally so he took her home. Wally would like a dog! Barnaby would not! the cat is their only pet and will remain their only pet, no compromise. Wally retaliated by gluing googly eyes & dog ears onto a rock he found, then painting it. its name is Barnaby. Barnaby has beef w/ it a la Elmo & Rocco when Wally isn't looking
one time, during a group trip to the annual Pillar Family Thanksgiving, the gang stopped at a cabin-themed diner. Sally gasped at stopped Barnaby at the door "We must leave - you can't eat here". when everyone asked why, she pointed at a decorative sign on the wall: Don't Feed The Bears. it instantly became a smash hit inside joke that sometimes backfires (like that one time they go camping and Barnaby acts like he can't open the bear-proof dumpsters & locks & coolers). Howdy once got a "dont feed the bears" sign to put up in the store's diner section as a joke, but as soon as Barnaby saw it he left and refused to come back until Howdy took it down. he'd stand outside the store window and gaze at Howdy from afar w/ the biggest, saddest puppy eyes. it was incredibly effective
speaking of Howdy's store! they all built it together! Howdy managed to get his hands on an abandoned shell of an old building, and they all refurbished/renovated it! they all had the collective skills to get it done. Wally helped draw up blueprints & directed the color-scheme / painting portion, Sally and Barnaby used their carpentry skills, etc.
when Eddie "reconnects" with everyone, he feels like he's going insane. 'cause he keeps running into people who are familiar enough that it bothers him, but he just can't place where they're from (most if not all of them look very different from the last time he saw them in highschool). it drives him nuts! and then he meets Wally and Wally's like "oh! Eddie! it's you!" and Eddie's all "uh... how did you know myna- OH MY GOD IT'S YOU". he has a small crisis because he's over that time in his life, he's in a much better place, he's grown as a person. then he realizes that it's not just Wally but the entire fucking friend group he agonized over wanting to befriend for years and years. the group that (unintentionally) made him feel completely alone and like he was living a lie. and he keeps. running. into them. so Eddie, who just moved to this town, starts looking at mail carrier opportunities elsewhere bc he is Not doing this again - only for Julie to show up and drag him to a friend group function. because they all got together and went "oh, you caught up w/ Eddie too?? so we're in agreement? great! he's ours now! Julie, go get him". and then they accidentally break Eddie's wrist in a zealous game of soccer-baseball-corntoss & from then on won't leave him alone <3
Wally keeps his hair consistently dyed a rich royal blue - even his eyebrows! he continuously touches it up so his roots are never showing! Barnaby keeps his hair dyed blue in solidarity, but to a lesser extent - his roots show, and he doesn't dye his eyebrows or his sideburns/beard
on that vein, Wally has a very extensive hair-care routine he does every morning. he straightens his natural curls out, manipulates his hair into that absurd swirl, and hairsprays it to death. & gels down everything else. shit's Airtight. then at night he has an equally elaborate routine of washing the hairspray/gel out, treating his hair with high quality shampoos/conditioner/oils, and blowdrying it with impeccable technique to keep it Healthy
continuing on that vein - one time Barnaby was makin' breakfast when he heard a crash from upstairs. he sprinted to go see if Wally was alright, but Wally had locked the bathroom door and refused to open up. after Barnaby convinced him to, the door opened to reveal a very miserable Wally still in his towel. his hair was green. "the bottle said dye-safe', he said. the bottle lied. he wore hats for a while.
ok im gonna stop here! this is an absurd amount! i got carried away!
#this au is.... fun#its uh? speculative in a way?#im holding the neighbors in a tightly clenched fist and asking#'how can i keep you all as accurate as possible in this wildly different setting with completely different life experiences'#'how can i apply human life to you all and still keep you in character w/ lives Believable to your character'#its fun. its interesting. in a way its an exploration & dissection of their characters#rambles from the bog#wh modern human au#i.. enjoy it#its interesting to imagine and think about an consider!#how can i keep them the same and how can i Not while staying faithful!#i hope im succeeding!#sorry for the absurdly long post!!!!#this is over 3k words of wordspill!#actually no im not sorry! i hope you enjoy(ed)!
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lawlight toxic yuri i never posted
#the vibes im envisioning are Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn in Death Becomes Her but theres no man to kill each other over#just their libidos i guess#SORRY but i chopped off L’s hair because as someone with buttcheek-long hair i find it a NIGHTMARE dealing with this shit#stray hair everywhere like im a goddamn husky#only light would have the patience and vanity to take care of absurdly long locks#and i know L’s shirt looks sorta form-fitting but thats just me failing as an artist. it’s baggy. trust 🙏#美迪 archive#💡princess posting⋆˚✿˖°#lawlight#l月#light yagami#L#death note#art#artists on tumblr#画画#涂鸦
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ippiki au lore dump
if the name of the au does not make it very obvious, this au was inspired very heavily by the trained cards for kick it up a notch (i just chose to reference the comm, hitsuji ga ippiki, as the au name because it sounds cooler than calling it like. kickup au. so its ippiki au instead. when i first started working on this i just called it animal fighters au but thats long LOL)
its one of my favorite sets, im a big fan of dystopian and post-apocalyptic themes which the set hits perfectly and there was room to have fun with animal designs (i mean, seriously, they gave kohane sheep horns and named akitos costume "hound kid") and so i started thinking from the moment i laid eyes on the set when it leaked and i ended up with an au based around the idea of animal/human hybrids.
first of all for actual au stuff, character profiles! these were made a lot earlier on into working the au so ive made minor adjustments to their designs since then, but nothing drastic. mainly just little things ive changed when drawing them in more detail, like additional scars and such.
while making kohane a sheep and akito a dog (hes... not a specific kind of dog. hes a mix of a whole bunch of different larger domestic dog breeds combined with some wild canines. ) were obvious from the set, deciding on the animals for an and touya required a bit more thought. i ended up settling on a fox for an partially as a nod to her ny3 card and also because for a long time now ive thought theyre fitting for her anyway, and touya as a black leopard because... he's kitty. but i wanted to make him a big kitty not a domestic kitty. i do also like bunny touyas but for how i was feeling with this au i wanted him to be a cat.
theres the fun little detail that kohane is the only animal that isnt a predator in vbs.
but i should probably explain why theyre animal hybrids in this au.
im going to put the rest of the lore dump and more art below, this gets long.
basically, in the face of a coming apocalypse, there was an effort to attempt to hybridize humans with animals to see if they could create a form of human (or something seen as "human enough") that would be more resilient if the apocalypse threatened the survival of normal humanity. it was never completely successful and the hybrids were less stable/generally shorter lived (if physically stronger) but it ended up being unnecessary and enough of humanity survived to rebuild. but the experiments to create hybrids continued.
in the present day of the au, hybrids are created for... less pleasant tasks. the kinds of things people dont want to take on, and theyre physically stronger than the average human so theyre put to those jobs instead. or theyre created as showpieces/pets for the wealthy (most people outside of those circles find it strange to keep hybrids like that though. hybrids arent always seen as being truly human (although theyre fully capable of everything human and then some) but theyre still seen as human enough for it to be weird).
many of them though, are created as sacrifices for entertainment in battle arenas where theyll have to fight each other to the death. its a seemingly inevitable fate to die there once theyre sent, but escape has happened before. an is living proof of that, as both of her parents are escaped arena fighters who helped establish a small town of hybrids out in the wasteland beyond the city at the core of hybrid creation and sacrifice.
how an ended up as an arena fighter despite being born well outside the city... thats a long story.
touya is a showpiece fighter, created to fight but kept secure and safe outside of his registered fights. he might be healthier physically, much less worn down by fighting, but hes been very socially isolated and doesnt fit in with other hybrids very well.
an and touya fight in the same arena, and touyas fight days are the only times he interacts with other hybrids. hes given free reign around the hybrid compound (where most other hybrids are restricted under collars and chains) and he ends up meeting an there. although tense, they become sort of friends and he frees her and they escape together.
kohane and akito are just normal arena fighters, created solely for that purpose, although kohane was meant as an early sacrifice due to her skittish nature, but she survives. theyre in the same arena as each other, although its a harsher one than the one antouya are in, theyre unable to properly interact with anyone else at all and are just lucky enough to be neighbors to end up bonding.
i just grouped them based on which side of their face they have the barcodes on in the original cards lol in this au the arenas generally brand their fighters with a code for identifying them. touyas is actually not permanent like the others, but temporarily applied whenever he has a fight coming up (like a temporary tattoo lol)
kohane managing to survive despite the intention being that she dies is actually the driving force that starts the fic for this au (which fun fact, despite me never mentioning the title, does have a title! the fic will be called "fight, flight, freedom", unless i think of something that fits even better, but i already like the title as is so i probably wont change it)
its rough but i promise everyone gets a happy ending eventually :)
now for sitting through all that rambling heres some art
heres my very initial attempts at designs for them! no drastic changes even since this initial pass at designs tbh i was pretty content with them pretty quickly
some various doodles of them interacting, some during/around the time of the fic and others post-fic
what if they were... more animal? like furries instead of just the ears/tails? obviously noncanon but it was a fun little thing to draw
wip aged up designs! heavily inspired by the power of unity set because it also fits into the post apocalyptic type theme and i thought would work for them when theyre a little older. assume theyre about 20-21 here, while in the main canon of the au theyre about 16-17.
a silly little sketch i did last week of aged up akikoha in their burn my soul outfits... kohane cant really wear hats, horns are inconvenient for that. everyone elses ears would probably make hats difficult too, but you could probably make holes for their ears. you cant really make holes for the tops of her horns.
some little finished pieces i did for this au. can you tell akito is my favorite to draw for this?
now heres some other random au facts
an and haruka are childhood friends, haruka also being the child of ferals. haruka is a domestic cat hybrid (either a gray or black cat, i havent decided which yet). she is not in their hometown anymore either. where is she now...? ill leave you to wonder about that.
kohane and minori grew up in the same group of created hybrids together, theyre friends but were sent to different places so they dont know whats happened to each other since. minori is a goat btw (inspired by her halloween card)
a lot of ans scars are from injuries that snowballed after an incident in a fight that severely broke her tail and led to part of it being amputated. her balance was thrown off for a while after that so she was a little clumsier in fights than normal
akitos scars on the other hand are caused by the fact that hes a reckless fighter. a good fighter, but not much care for the damage he takes in the process. that and improper padding on his collars and muzzle, leaving those spots unable to fully heal from being rubbed against metal for months and when they finally do heal they scarred.
im still sorting things out for sure but tentatively for vbs npcs i have decided on fox ken and yuka (obviously, same as an), tiger taiga (i mean... how could i not go for the pun. and i think it suits him), maned wolf nagi (update march 2024 ive drawn nagi now so this is what has been made canon), raccoon kotaro, caracal arata, and dog souma (sorry to any tatsuya fans, i have not figured out how to include him in the au at all)
vbs all very clingy with each other once they get comfortable together. platonic polysquad ❤️
other characters outside of vbs exist in this au but theyre just not relevant enough to the story for me to include here 👍
the fic outline is like 2.4k words. the first chapter is a couple scenes away from being finished and its about 5k words. it will not be the longest chapter of the fic. this is going to be a long au.
maybe ill do another lore dump another day if i can think of more stuff. well see.
if you made it this far, thank you for reading, heres an edit i made the moment we got high quality versions of the cards and is probably partially responsible for the existence of this au
#w1f1 ramblings#w1f1 draws#ippiki au#project sekai#vivid bad squad#long post#sorry this is an absurdly long post#i may be a little hyperfixated on my own au. lol.#i just love my fucked up little creatures#my goal is to hopefully finish the fic by the time kickup reaches ensekai#but we shall see when i complete it id rather make it good than rush to get it out in time
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Are y'all excited for nightbringer
Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: Yes with...reservations. We think. We think we're excited?
(spoilers for Season 4)
We haven't been too active for a bit and thus we never did jot down all our thoughts about how Season 4 panned out in Obey Me, but the simple summary is: they dropped the ball.
Now, not everything in Season 4 was a waste -- we did defend Lesson 70 back when it released, and there were some other nice nuggets of information throughout those twenty lessons. We met new characters, finally got the Simeon reveal (if a bit anticlimactically), and MC became the first official non-demon member of the RAD student council, which, as a reminder, is the governing body of the entire Devildom, so that's a pretty big deal.
However, Season 3 had a relatively flat writing progression with not much of a climax, all in service to setting up a bunch of things in Season 4, and many of those things were then...not used well, to the say the least.
Raphael was built up to be an antagonistic character, but we kind of got a wet mop instead. Season 3 also made a big deal about MC needing to become a trained sorcerer and how difficult something like teleportation and summoning would be, but teleportation is learned basically immediately, and summoning Lucifer, the most powerful of the demon brothers, across realms, on the first try, is highlighted for all of about ten seconds and then never really talked about again.
They built up Simeon's situation for almost all of both seasons combined, but rather than actually becoming a "fallen angel" (aka demon), it's revealed as simply "not having angel powers anymore" and only properly clarified later that he's now "human" -- which we still have a million questions about, because it has been fairly well established that angel physiology is much closer to demons and far different than that of humans, so what does that actually even mean? Even within Season 4 itself, Mephistopheles is first introduced as somewhat hostile to MC and non-demons at large, but he too is reduced to little more than another comedic fool by halfway through.
So, suffice it to say, we don't presently hold the highest opinions of the OM writing team...
With the little we've seen of Nightbringer so far, we are already seeing a bit of possible retconning -- for example, RAD not existing before the Celestial War, when lore wise it did exist and is discussed in Lucifer's base UR card Devilgram, The Glory Days. But with everything we've said here, we can't really be surprised that Solmare seems to constantly forget their own lore. So, how much more will be retconned in Nightbringer? Who knows!
The devs also just did an AMA, which confirms that they will not be continuing the main story in the OG Obey Me game, but instead eventually continuing it in Nightbringer. How they're going to connect the story which involves MC going back in time disguised as a demon to where they left off at the end of Season 4 is a mystery, but we'll find out soon enough...hopefully.
Also, we worry that seeing the characters fresh from the Celestial War might very well increase misinterpretations in the fandom when it comes to the characters. No offense to most of the fandom but, uh, we don't think the Seven Demon Lords of Hell from actual demonology need to be treated as angsty precious meow meows that need to become angels again to ~heal~ them. The excessive woobification we sometimes see of these characters is, hmm, not quite to our taste, and a big reason we keep to our own little corner. <3
But, all that said, that deep desire of ours to see OM actually embrace its demonic backdrop and the much darker world it has been suggesting forever, is exactly what we're excited for in the new game! The art and plot they've shared so far is right up our alley, and we're at least minimally hopeful for the seeming return to darker content that they've been avoiding since the initial backlash in the game's early days.
The opening animation is beautiful and the prologue video they've shared is interesting (more Barbatos lore?? More Barbatos lore!! More Solomon lore???). We're hoping that we'll get more fleshed out history on both the characters and the world, especially if we'll be learning more about the Great Celestial War and the aftermath, including the creation of Satan. It'll be interesting to see (or at least, we hope we'll see) the character progression of the immediate post-fall angels suffering the grief of their transformation and loss of their home, to coming to accept their new lives as demons even if we're not thrilled that it's probably MC coming to the past to play family therapist yet again.
And the Ruri Tunes demo was pretty cute back when they did that one-stage beta, so that should be fun? Even if, thematically, a rhythm game seems maybe like a bit of a strange choice for the darker direction this story is taking...but then again, dance battles were kind of weird thematically in the first place anyway.
We'll also finally get a canon layout of the House of Lamentation, so if nothing else we'll at least have that? Please confirm there's more than just one bathroom.
#did you miss us and our absurdly long answers to simple questions?? of course you did.#anyway as you can tell we may not have posted much here but this game still has a hold on us lolol#also sorry that we're a lil mean to the fandom in this oops#you'll hear plenty more from us once the game is out (which is very soon!!)#obey me nightbringer#obey me#obey me!#obey me swd#obey me shall we date#omswd#ask and ye shall be answered#ask and ye shall receive (essays)
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In terms of polar opposites, I believe there are two types of villains.
Those who are silly and fun, who snicker and rub their hands together like mischievous children scampering around on their tiptoes, who blabber on about their endearingly harmless plans and wouldn't ever wish to actually hurt anyone; And then there are those who are mercilessly, dreadfully evil.
The core idea for this story appeared when I first stopped to consider how incredibly (and scarily) brilliant Dr. Nefario truly is. Had he been a heinous character instead of the charming and earnest fellow we all know and love, I have no doubt that he would have been the greatest menace of all. I wanted to introduce a foe who could fully embody this dark, twisted and hypothetical version of the good scientist, hence why I created an enemy that would directly oppose his convictions and confront him on a personal level.
The way I view young Nefario is as someone who, despite being on the wrong side of the law, lives by a steady and honorable set of principles. Deep down, he is an honest and respectable individual; He just happens to have an occasional passion for joyous chaos.
But underestimating him would be a grave mistake. The man has the mind of a genius and the heart of a father. Quite the powerful mix in itself.
#sorry for the ABSURDLY long post omg#but I really didn't want to split this scene#I just think there's some great potential to be explored in a more somber scenario#and the idea of a rightfully furious Nefario is one that I absolutely HAD to draw#I'm almost done with this tangent I swear#dr nefario#young nefario#angst#drama#evil me#concept#rise of gru#despicable me#fanart
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Ooooh I would love to hear about your hypothetical curriculum for St. Petersburg!
In my mind, there are two other parallel versions of me that chose other fields of study. There's one who chose theology, and there's one who chose Russian lit.
So five-ish years ago, I read St. Petersburg: A Cultural History by Solomon Volkov. I absolutely adored it. As I read, I kept a running list of all the literature, music, and art that I wanted to look up and experience once I had finished the book. This turned into a sort of self-taught class on the literature of St. Petersburg, which continues to be one of my greatest fascinations. I read voraciously, listened to little but Petersburg opera for months (hit me up for Russian opera recs!), and when I read other Russian cultural histories, I kept similar lists and read even more. I've still got quite a lot of Russian classics on my to be read list, but this technique gave me a wonderful start, which led me in turn to create this hypothetical lit curriculum. I would love nothing more than to somehow share Petersburg's beautiful body of poetry, prose, and essay with others.
Note: this is probably a bit more than would fit in a standard undergrad semester, but I've already made substantial cuts from the original lists and can't bring myself to pare it down anymore. Suspend your disbelief, etc.
The Petersburg Mythos
Alexander Pushkin: The Bronze Horseman and The Queen of Spades
Mikhail Lomonosov: Masquerade
Nikolai Gogol: The Nevsky Prospect and The Overcoat
Fyodor Dostoyevsky: White Nights and Crime and Punishment. Maybe also The Adolescent if there's time; if not, I would at least include one particular excerpt from it.
Ivan Turgenev: Home of the Gentry
Leo Tolstoy: Anna Karenina
Yevgeny Zamyatin: “Moscow-Petersburg”
Essay: Using “Moscow-Petersburg” as a framework, examine the projected mythos of St. Petersburg in contrast to that of another major city in Europe, Asia, America, or even in fiction.
The Silver Age
Alexandre Benois: “Picturesque Petersburg”
Andrei Bely: Petersburg
Boris Pasternak: “February” “A Wedding” “My Sister, Life” “Hamlet”
Alexander Blok: “The Dances of Death” “The City Sleeps” “The Stranger”
Nikolay Gumilyov: “The Lost Tram” “The Sixth Sense”
Anna Akhmatova: "The Prayer"
Marina Tsvetayeva: “To Akhmatova”
Essay: While the influence of Golden Age literature on the Silver Age is clear, many have noted an air of dread and anticipation preceding the Bolshevik Revolution in their work is well. Was St. Petersburg of the Silver Age more past- or future-oriented? Defend your answer.
The Martyr City
Anna Akhmatova: Untitled poem on Gumilyov’s arrest
Osip Mandelstam: “Leningrad,” “Petropolis,” Untitled “Help me, O Lord…”
Yevgeny Zamyatin: The Cave
Konstantin Vaginov: The Goat Song
Yuri Tynyanov: The Death of Vazir-Mukhtar
Anna Akhmatova: “Requiem” and “Poem Without a Hero”
Mikhail Zoshchenko: Nervous People
Choose an emotional response to the suffering of the early Soviet Era, such as grief, alienation, fear, or hope, and analyze its presence in the literature of early to mid-century Leningrad.
Expatriates, Non-Russians, and the End of the Soviet Era
Vladimir Nabokov: Speak, Memory
Alexander Kushner: selections from We Cannot Choose Times…
Andy Croft: Epilogue to “Fellow Travellers”
Olga Berggolts: Untitled “We pronounced the simplest, poorest words…”
Vladamir Kornilov: “Freedom”
Essay: How does the writing of those who are alienated from St. Petersburg’s identity in some way differ from those who are immersed in it? (In order to answer this question, you will need to decide: What is St. Petersburg’s identity?)
#i think i'm gonna start migrating my Russia posts over to this blog#clearly this community has an interest#and i yearn to share this sort of thing with you all#i had a really tough time tracking down a lot of these poems and essays#back when i first read them#so if anyone has that same problem let me know and I can probably help#i have a stockpile#it's an absurdly long word document that probably ought to be a folder or something#i would sell body parts for a chance to visit St. Petersburg#russia where are you flying to?#literature makes us more human#ask me hard questions#really glad you asked for this one friend#sorry it took so long
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tired and eepy but i forgot have i shared with the tumblr crowd that one day i just decided the holic heights go by rule of expy and any jotaro expy with no specified height is 195cm tall by default. it's extra funny cause i did the math and that would make watanuki a tall lanky 183cm or so but hed still look smaller next to doumeki and it would make him mad. i mean we know that part is canon but its extra funny if you just imagine that everyone in holic is just super fucking tall naturally like it's in the water or something. enter the spaghettiverse
#this post is sponsored by 'clamps new holic art proportions make me irrationally angry because yuuko looks like a normal sized woman#my wife is TALL and built like a beautiful long tree#my proof is that i literally own the scale figure in my room#they cant gaslight us like this she is sooooooooo tall#xxxholic#thinking abt that scene where tanuki complains abt szk being absurdly large that someone quote retweeted with 'oN HIS BIRTHDAY???'#that tweet has never left my brain for fucking years!!!!#the delusional rage slash matured routine bickering potential of a six foot mf with the height insecurity of a sitcom short king is so#fucking funny im sorry#im 165cm myself but i have no complaints about that to speak of and actually laugh at the concept of short people a lot for the memes#that wasnt relevant anyways
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just blocked someone on here for confidently asserting a western conifer seed bug was actually a stinkbug. buddy they arent even the same shape. get outta here
#dont care if ppl dont know stuff#but stop acting like you do if you dont#plus you can easily google 'seed bug vs stink bug'#and very clearly and obviously see the difference#so why would you confidently post misinfo that could have been prevented#either by a single google search#or better yet#by keeping your stupid mouth shut#sorry im not actually mad btw i find this situation humorous#my blocklist is absurdly long and grows longer every single day. god bless!#sunie posts
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a funny thing ive been thinking abt recently is.. as a crazyperson dealing with delusions, the one thing that best lets me manage them is not "convince myself that its not real" (i cant actually just turn off my psychosis :/) but saying "it IS real, this IS true, but only in my reality".
like, idk whether or not "objective reality" is a real thing and im sooo not interested in finding out, but i do know there is a... communal reality? one which is based on things which are observable to anyone, and which impact and are impacted by multiple people. so if thats our basis, the communal reality, then one might consider the idea of an individual reality; one where a person may observe, be impacted by, and impact things which are inobservable to anyone else, and which no one else can interact with directly. the observability and impact of what is being perceived by the person is undeniable to them, but it is very much deniable by anyone else, because its not true in the communal reality.
the crucial part of this, to me, is that if i use this framework, the only course of action that makes sense is to determine that i should avoid doing anything that would negatively impact people, things, or myself in the communal reality based on anything i observe solely in my individual reality. those things are not in the communal reality, so i have like, a sort of moral and also just rational duty to consider them fully irrelevant to the communal reality and to act accordingly.
like, ok, sometimes i become very aware (more than usual) that theres a woman on my balcony at night, and shes looking through my bedroom window and trying to get in, and some nights im so afraid of her that i lock my bedroom door and close the metal blinds all the way and sleep with the lights on. the woman on the balcony is very real... in my individual reality. but thats kind of the reality im in! so shes very real to me!
but, i know, shes not real to anyone else. so i shouldnt do dumb shit based on her being there. i know she cant impact the communal reality (my roommate isnt in danger, etc), so... its kinda fine that shes here?
she is scary and she does want to hurt me and im scared of her and i hate her and wish she would leave. and some nights i need to do my lil 'lockdown procedures' to get away from her, and it fucking sucks, and thats a very real shitty experience.
but, well, once i am able to recognize that shes not real to other people, then she can just be something i observe. i recognize that her reach is limited; that she cant hurt me or anyone else in any meaningful way; eventually, on most days she becomes background noise. eventually, me and them, in our pocket reality no one else experiences, i start to accept them a bit. if the lady could hurt me she would have by now - and i do think the lady on the balcony is also the 'witch behind the curtains' from my childhood, so.. she's had plenty of time.
she cant really hurt me. shes just trying to spook me. shes like these actors in walk-through haunted houses who are behind cages or fences - grabbing towards the audience, putting on a big show of how scary they are.. ultimately, theyre actors in a cage, still. the woman on the balcony is like that. scaring me is the only thing she actually can do; there is no true threat, because the cage of common reality will always hold her at arms length. and sure, shes really, really good at scaring me. and i really dont like it! but i can go through it and remind myself that its all an act. a haunted house tour i didnt sign up for, sure, but none of the actors are allowed to touch me. they cant affect the common reality.
like thats been p dope? im never gonna manage to believe that its "just not real". but i can manage "its real for me and nobody else". and that makes it bearable.
i talk to the man on the ceiling now, sometimes. when i leave my room in the dark i dont turn on the light - and i have always turned on the lights! - and i talk to him. i know hes there. and for years i checked the ceiling at night, compulsively, to make sure he wasnt there. he doesnt want me to see him, right, so i had to keep checking because that way he had to remain hidden and couldnt get close to me.
now i go sit in a completely dark, closed room and i say "hey man, hows it going up there", and hes there on the ceiling, of course, but i dont check now, to be polite (if hes that committed to hiding then clearly its nicer to not look for him!). i tell him about my day a bit. he doesnt respond, obviously, but also id really hate it if he did, so its all good with me. i picture his weird, blank head hanging down from the ceiling, his featureless face hovering just above me, watching me while im blinded by the darkness.
and those are the thoughts ive tried very, very hard to avoid having for so many years! i got into a habit of ig.. very intensely thinking the lyrics of a song while going through my apartment at night, doing the choreographed circuit of turning the lights off and on to make sure i was never in the dark, because if i let my thoughts slip for just a second id think about the ceiling man right behind me, and thatd freak me out.
just sitting there in the complete darkness, knowing hes so close, listening to me talk to him? not so long ago i wouldve had a panic attack about it. but its ok. because the ceiling man cant hurt me, either. and probably isnt even trying to.
i thought about it more, and i realized that while i know the woman is trying to hurt me - shes purposeful about scaring me - the ceiling man has never really been antagonistic. he follows me around, but moreso in the way an animal would follow some strange smaller animal out of curiosity. hes not really trying to do anything to me. hes just here. thats not his fault. hes stuck with me too! so, im chill with him now i guess.
like, seriously.. just saying "the paranoia entities are real actually, but just for me" has actually really really really helped. i wish i hadnt spent all this time thinking and being told that getting better meant no longer having delusions. like, sure, thatd be great!!!! but i cant just turn them off. and theres no treatment that can just 100% make psychosis go away. so, most likely, im still gonna have delusions, and, most likely, i will for the rest of my life, and possibly itll worsen with age. its not realistic to just think "the only real option here is to convince myself that my experiences are fake". what, like im smarter than my own brain? my brains not gonna let me think this isnt real. its making it up in the first place!! so yeah. whatever! it is real. so now i can focus on "whats the best course of action to take when i have (x) experience, while remembering that it cannot infringe upon other peoples reality?", and as it turns out theres a lot more i can do while working within the delusion. damn.
#long post#very long post#ok im shoving in a readmore bc this is absurdly long and everyone gonna be mad#psychosis inducing#paranoia inducing#unreality#psychosis trigger#uhhh#unreality tw#yeah im gonna have to say i think thats enough tags? idk any other ones#anyway sorry for long ass post just wanted to blog. lol. and yes yes im high again...
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ok sorry if this is a silly question but I'm always curious about how post canon edling works? like what is their situation.
did the edwin proposal just never happen or are they exes? are the edwin kids a thing?
does ed live in xing at some point or does he just travel around and sporadically visit ling whenever he can? I think repeatedly traveling through the desert could be painful with automail so maybe only once a year or every couple years?
idk, let me know ur thoughts!! :)
OKAY SO I OBVIOUSLY CANNOT SPEAK FOR LIKE ANYONE ELSE WHO'S INTO THEM but i do have a specific canon for them (exiled) (and like... i don't like the writing of the fics anymore... but my main interpretation still centers around it and follows the same beats so surely that means something right)
ANYWAYS HERE'S THE GIST/RUNDOWN OF I HOW I KIND OF SORT OF MADE THEM WORK:
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(going to use parts of my personal doc for my ed blog (@alchemsol) that i use to keep track of stuff i've written that's canon for him just for convenience's sake)
so the general gist of the beginning of exiled is that after around four years of rehabilitation and one travelling in the west (what we see him doing at the end of canon, diverging without the edwin subplot since i prefer them being written in a more familial way like the start of canon did), ed travels to xing to visit everybody again along with his brother since he's working as an amestrian ambassador for xing now and living in the palace and learning alkahestry with mei, along with figuring out how to get jerso and zampano's bodies back ^_^
somewhere around this time ed and ling get together
during the span of about a month or two after the main plot ends, ed stays with ling in the palace and essentially accompanies him for a while as his s/o (unbeknownst to the main public). a while after he's called to border city milos to help solve a dispute with an alchemist
it is important to note that ling, despite this having been his entire goal and wanting to help his people and help reform xing, really fucking hates his job more than he thought he would since he's spent his whole life as a free spirit lol. more of ling's character arc involving naïveté it is!
so what ling does is he essentially knows that he can't really help xing much more than he already has in his position, and in a very strong sense of burnout and a horribly poor mental state that can really only hurt his people more than it would serve them, he and lan fan decide to desert, he fakes his death, and they both leave for and arrive in resembool while ed and al are still away in creta.
with mei having already been named his heir at this point in case anything were to happen to him and without any children due to the sudden elimination of the concubine system and lack of a love interest PRIOR to ed, she agrees to assume the throne and do what she had originally intended to do before ling had won the philosopher's stone and mostly continues out ling's work
"bluebirds" (the last exiled fic) essentially centers around ed and ling adjusting to resembool life (especially ling because of how goddamn high-stakes his life has been up to this point) after ed and al return from milos, and also introduces winry and pinako to the series. al leaves to return to xing after it concludes
the tl;dr by this point is that lan fan and ling are now in resembool, and while winfan ALSO begins forming in the background of the story, ling and ed adjust to the whole situation of ling, a whole-ass emperor, having faked his death and randomly having showed up AT THE ROCKBELLS' (and ed's in a more non-literal sense) DOORSTEP, which ed is Very ":/" about bc they didn't talk about this and it could be dangerous as fuck but when are they not known for being ballsy!!!
the other titles listed happen after "bluebirds" and exiled conclude, but are still in the same canon. coulomb arc is a personal project with a writing partner (my boyf) that veers off into this non-canon au ficlet, terrible day for rain and names to call you by are ficlets that i've posted and deleted in the past that introduce nella and leroy who ed and ling end up adopting (along with ollie who they had also adopted shortly after the events of under the apple tree), and the other ed/ling fankids i've mentioned (jingyi, delilah, chao) happen sometime after matryoshka and end up as their biological children
golden years is obviously the end of all that but it isn't really important since it's an unnecessary ficlet i just wanted to write ages ago lmao
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TL;DR: my interpretation is probably really far from what most people would consider in-character or most likely to happen after canon especially since it just ditches parts of the epilogue entirely as a result of it being a love letter to myself and what i like and not really much else because i just felt really silly goofy after consuming fullmetal alchemist content for the first time
however ^_^ ! it's basically just ed and ling living wild in their early 20s and then settling down and basically turning into domestic gay middle-aged men with 9 million kids because i think they deserve better than constant drama for once in their life lolz. i simply think it's good and soft for them to be normal especially given ling especially didn't get a taste of it at all when ed at least got a small sippy
ed ofc still travels from time-to-time because that's just the kind of guy that he is (usually bringing ling along with him to show him amestris), and he typically avoids doing it entirely unless he has a like. VERY important trip where he won't be gone for long after they have children mostly in fear of accidentally becoming like his father even though he's mostly forgiven him and absolutely doesn't hate him at all by now since he knows better than what he used to and why things ended up the way they did. it's just the matter of them getting used to living like actual normal and happy grown people, even with some bumps along the way, and they finally get to heal from everything that happened to them when they were younger together
tl;dr x2: i think they should heal and be shitty little country boys and make out maybe
#-- anonymous#macchi.txt#answering machine#edling#linged#THANK YOU FOR ASKING SJFDSKJAKJSKJS!!!!! i have many thoughts about these guys and they're unironically the only edlings i write mostly#SO SORRY FOR THE RAMBLING I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEEEENN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i've wrote them for like 3 years it's unbearable. every day i fight the urge to not shut up#long post#is this absurdly ooc for ling especially? yeah#do i care? no#am i taking constructive criticism at this time? also no /j#also minor spoilers for exiled kinda...? idk when AM i gonna finish that series tbh#anyways now you all know the spiel of what goes on in my brain when i mention these guys#still love fma's themes of community so much so even if the way i write them does kind of suck ass i still like including my bestie babies#i do have prompts where ling stays emperor and ed is still his boyf/etc just because it's really fun though#fma
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snapshot.
Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] -
Word Count: 1K
you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.
(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼
The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.
You sigh as you open your eyes.
The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.
Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.
And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.
So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.
Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,
“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.
“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”
He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”
Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.
Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”
“You want a photo of my boobs?”
“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.
Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.
“The hair,” he directs.
This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.
When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.
A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.
You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.
“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”
You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.
His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.
"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."
The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.
And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.
His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.
His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.
“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”
The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.
"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.
You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.
"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."
Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.
"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.
"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.
Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.
Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.
You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.
You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.
But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.
You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.
You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.
"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."
"Please, come here."
"Not yet."
"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"
"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."
You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.
Climax is imminent.
You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.
When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.
"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”
“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”
As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.
As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.
“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”
Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible.
Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶
#Carlos Sainz#Carlos Sainz Jr#Carlos Sainz x Reader#Carlos Sainz x You#Carlos Sainz Smut#Carlos Sainz Fanfic#Carlos Sainz Imagine#Formula 1 x Reader#Formula 1 x You#F1 x Reader#F1 x You#F1 Imagine#F1 One Shot#Driver x Reader#F1 Driver x Reader#Driver x You#F1 Driver x You#F1 Fanfic#FanF1ction
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Ok so I know at this point I’ve lied through my teeth about finishing the full shovel talk fic like 5 times BUT TONIGHT IM FREE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 5 DAYS AND I MEAN ACTUALLY FREE NOT FREE AT 1AM AND INEVITABLY JUST FALLING ASLEEP SO ✨SOMETHING✨ WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT I PROMISE
#ISTG WORDS WILL BE WRITTEN#it really has just gotten absurdly long for what was an 800 word prompt I’m sorry lmao#honestly hoping I can write something at work today but like hospo so#probably not lmao#my post
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would u? (3tan717) | myg
3tan717 drabble #1: would u?
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717
rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi
note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!!
note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now!
warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue
drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est
word count: 2.3k
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Ugh.
Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever?
Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side.
To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room.
You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place.
Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio.
Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands.
However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy.
Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker!
Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—
“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?”
Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him.
But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person.
…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep?
“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?”
Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable.
Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop.
Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction.
Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again.
After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right?
You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone.
When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen.
Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because…
Uhh.
Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains.
Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.
But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you.
Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension.
Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…
On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands.
And you can’t even form words that match how you feel.
Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down.
When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a motherfucker.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”
“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”
Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.”
“Okay.”
He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up.
Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on.
And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”
“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.”
Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.”
“It’ll be quick.”
“What are you making?”
A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.”
As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause.
And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed.
Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—
“Take the medicine, baby girl.”
Oh.
Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.”
Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one.
As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk.
Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure.
But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making.
It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now.
Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.”
“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”
“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.”
“We’ll see what you say in a bit.”
Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter.
“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.”
Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?”
“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”
Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.”
“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.”
“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.”
At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again.
“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.”
With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.”
When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow.
If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling.
You were probably about to get the kiss of your life.
But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be.
“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.”
Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you.
Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it.
As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great.
“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.”
Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”
Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.”
You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake.
“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.”
Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon.
And you don’t even feel the pain anymore.
“Go ahead and sit, babe.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes.
Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it.
And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be.
Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling.
When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head,
“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.”
As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes.
“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.”
So this was for him, too? Good.
Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.”
“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.”
Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!”
“I’m lazy!”
“Tough shit!”
“I know!”
Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.”
Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.”
“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.”
"Really.."
For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything.
Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.
When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.
Breathtaking.
When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.
And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines.
Three of them, to be exact.
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fin. :)
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how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe
a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!
a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha
#ahhhh here we go!#3tan717d1#3tan717#bts fic#bts imagines#*ryenfictalk#bts reactions#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#three tangerines#yoongi fluff#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#*latest#ryenwrites#bts fluff
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Can I get a smut of Johnny suh using his size and strength kink on a petite female Y/N? Thank you~
heyy! i'm so sorry this is absurdly late :(( but hope you still like it! <3
small
Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”
pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader
other members: none
word count: 2.4k
genre: romance, smut
warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! as per the request the reader is smaller than Johnny but I refrained from describing body parts or her specific size or anything like that, she is just short. if you're sensitive to this kind of talk though maybe don't read <3 mild profanity, lots of kissing, johnny carries reader, manhandling, descriptions of johnny's torso and body throughout, dirty talk about the size of his ding dong schlong, mild degradation (use of slut), ripping clothes bc those muscles do more than lift weights <3, clitoral stimulation/fingering, reader is pretty slutty and dumb during sex (aren't we all), missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), condom use, talking after sex (post nut clarity fr)
disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.
a/n: i have been in such a writer's slump particularly with smut! like i think i need some time off to write some good fics and some good smut, so i'm sorry anon and to all my lovely readers if this is shit :(
“Now why would he ever say that?” You peeked at your friend pacing around your small room through your hair. Scissors in one hand, your (new) bangs in the other, you winced. “Wait, girl, I made a mistake I think.”
She sighed as you let the strands flutter across your forehead, uneasiness settling in your stomach. “Didn’t you follow what he said?” Brad Mondo’s curtain bangs tutorial continued in the background as you turned your head expectantly from side to side. Your friend held your head in place with open palms, looking at you through the mirror. “It’s actually kinda cute. Makes you look…well…”
“Don’t say small.” She snorted, bringing a hand to her face to unsuccessfully cover her mouth. “I don’t care, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
You pushed yourself off the stool, rolling your eyes as you started undressing. “He didn’t mean it like that.” Your belt clinked as your jeans fell to the carpet, and you started bringing your shirt over your heard. “I’m sure it was his way of complimenting me.” Despite all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the annoyance that cemented your words into place. “I guess.”
“Girl, you need to tell him that it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Yeah, and it’s not weird to call some girl you’ve been on two dates with small.”
The doorbell cut through the air, making you both jump. “Shit. It’s like he heard or something.”
“Shit. Wait, just let him in and get him to wait downstairs. Okay?” Sudden panic was settling into your body, making your hands shake. Your friend got the message and hurried downstairs, zipping her skirt up in record time while hobbling downstairs. “Hope I don’t smell like chicken. I hate having shifts on Fridays.”
Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you pulled the skirt over the curves of your thighs and butt, watching the way it held onto your body. Stuffing the ends of the top into the skirt, you walked over to pick out a pair of shoes.
“I’m heading out! Johnny’s waiting down here!” Your friend’s voice made your body do the kind of useless flurry that it does whenever you know you’re running out of time, and you drag out the highest heels you own. Small, my ass.
“Hey!” As usual, he softened his frame when he saw you, placing his hands in his pockets and smiling so big so you would forget to feel intimidated by his 6-foot stature, or rock-hard physique. His eyes were like small moons, bursting on his face whenever he smiled. “Hey, nice bangs.” You instinctively went to fiddle with them, silently cursing yourself for messing them up. “Thanks.” Your smile was a little forced, but you were giddy to see him, your body rocking back and forth without your permission, ankles rubbing against each other.
∞
“The pasta was so good,” you couldn’t stop raving, your hips knocking into Johnny as he walked you home, arms linked. “Like seriously, Johnny. So good.”
He laughed, the sound leaving him effortlessly. “I’m so glad you liked it. I remember the pasta here being amazing, but I was worried you would think I’m cheap or not taking you seriously. The place being run down and all.” You shook your head, your bangs shuffling from side to side as you did. “No, of course not. I would rather eat something good on the street than a tiny portion of something small and pretentious at an upscale place.”
He hummed, moonlight hitting his body, softening some angles and sharpening others, hair glowing golden brown as he walked. Your heels clacked against the linoleum of your front porch as you wondered whether your friend was home, but before you could reach for the front door, your knees buckled. You let out a small gasp as you felt Johnny’s arms around your body, pinching into your skin almost uncomfortably. “Oh shit! I’m okay, babe.” You both froze at the sudden nickname, his arms loosening around you as you straightened up. You shakily continued. “U-uhm, sorry, I mean-“
“I think your shoes broke.”
Yeah, no shit, you wanted to bite back. But you held your tongue, frustration seeping through your pores as you held onto the rail, Johnny hovering protectively over you as you took the right heel off, now newly broken in two pieces. “Oh my god. These were so expensive! Ugh!”
“It’s okay. Maybe I can buy you another pair. Babe.” He said the last word almost sarcastically, and you glared at him. “Johnny.”
“I’m serious. I’m sorry those broke so easily. I’ll bring a new pair next time?”
“Johnny, wait.”
“You like me, right?” His face crumpled just a tiny bit. Not exaggerated like in the movies or anything, so subtle you would never notice from afar, or if you weren’t close. You warmed at the thought of knowing him so closely, so well, enough to know that something was not right in the lines of his eyebrows.
You gulped, not knowing how to respond.
“I feel like you kinda hate me.” He crinkled his nose when he said hate, almost sarcastically, but his tone jabbed you straight in the chest. You shook your head. No, of course not, you wanted to say. I like you. I like you so much. But I am small to you. I wonder if you think of me as small. Do YOU like me?
“I just, I don’t like being small.” He frowned, and so did you, the words sounding stupid as soon as they filled the small space between your bodies. “I mean, you called me small the other day. And I know you probably, well, definitely, meant it as a cute thing. Like physically. Like a term of endearment, you know? But, I don’t wanna be seen as small, like more than physically. You know what I mean?” You cringed internally at your words, watching him stare blankly back at you.
“Right.”
“I’m so sorry. I sound like such a jerk. I don’t mean to be hung up over one little word you said.” You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of your lipstick on your tongue. “It’s just what made me feel a little weird. But, I do like you, Johnny.” Your heart raced as you looked up at him. Your body moved without permission for the umpteenth time, and your arms melted around his hips, fingers splaying across the small of his back. Your mind screamed at you, but your body ignored it, burning up from within.
Tentatively, he brought one hand to your chin, skin warm but rough on yours. “I don’t think low of you. I never have. I just think you’re so fucking gorgeous. So perfect the way you are.” The butterflies in your stomach were now dancing, free, leaping over hills and grassy plains. “Sorry for the poor choice of words.”
You smiled, some of the tension leaving you as you let your bodies merge seamlessly, like lanes on an open road, like the sun as it meets the horizon. You kicked off your other shoe, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. He tentatively glazed his hands over your sides, making you shiver and moan into his mouth. You brought your fingers to the nape of his neck, savouring the taste. “Mmm, Johnn-“
You yelped when he gripped your thigh, guiding it to press against his hips. “Jump up for me, baby.” You giggled, nodding as you straddled him, his torso gently rebounding back with your weight. As you met his lips once more, dragging your forearms across the top of his shoulders, you heard your front door open and close, the door to the downstairs bedroom fling wide open. As your back hit the bed, your hair splayed out onto the fresh sheets, knees bent, lipstick smeared.
Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”
“Uh huh.” All the shame left your body as you drew circles on his body and face with your eyes, letting his thick frame tower over you. “Is this okay?” He breathed into your collarbone, and when you nodded fervently, you felt his lips suck and nip at your neck. Gasping, you gripped onto his neck, letting your ankles hook around the back of his jean-clad legs. “Y-yes. Yes please. Don’t tease, I want y-you so much.”
“Yeah?” He played with the buttons of your top, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait…just rip it off, please. I need you. Right now. Please, just use me. I know you can.” He drew an eyebrow upwards, and you almost felt a slight twinge of embarrassment until you heard the top rip, cold air exposing your lace bra, tits bulging as you arched your chest off the bed. “What a slut. Is this what you wanted all along?” He laughed as you wriggled under him, mouth latching onto the tops of your boobs. He released you only to throw your arms up, pinning your wrists down to the bed to watch your reaction. When you bit your lip in response, bringing your core closer to his, he laughed darkly. “Freak.”
“Yes, just for you, fuck, please.”
“Bet you’re just soaked under this tight little skirt. Want me to rip this off too?” You nodded before he could even finish his sentence, and the sound of your fabric ripping filled the air. “Mmm, just as I suspected.” As he dragged your panties down your thighs, you felt your wetness pool onto the sheets under you. “Please, please, hold me down and fuck me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your plump lips graze against his skin as you massaged the nape of his neck with your fingers. You whimpered when his jean-clad bulge bumped against your clit, the burn in your core growing with every passing second.
He kissed you deeply, pulling away at an agonising pace. “Tell me why, baby.” You whined, trying to gather some friction between your legs with no avail. His arms pinned yours to either side of your head, his legs like heavy weights against yours. “Please, I just, I want your cock i-inside me, w-want it to split me open…” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would do that to you? I’m too big for you, honey.”
You whined. “N-no, please. I don’t care, just, push it in me…” He laughed, kissing you. “Please, I want to feel so full…” He shushed you, sitting up to unbuckle his jeans. “Mmm, yes, yes please…” You were just babbling nonsense, the anticipation too intense to bear. His cock sprung out of his boxers, hitting his stomach, precum spilling out the edges of the tip. You heard him rip open a condom packet, dragging it on his length at lightning speed. He ran his cockhead through the folds of your pussy, making you whimper. “So wet.” He breathed, and you gasped as his tip entered you at an agonisingly slow place. “J-Johnny.” Your brain fought your body, wanting him to continue but feeling apprehensive at the impending stretch. “You’re so big. Fuck.” You snuck a hand down towards your clit, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, leaning over to kiss your chin. “Let me.” As he pressed one finger onto your core, you gasped, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. “O-oh, oh my…”
“You like that?” He started speeding up, your gasps and moans like drugs to his system. When he pulled away, he started pushing his length in, and you let out a deep breath, as if you had been holding it in the entire time. “Fuck.” You drawled, feeling him in every corner of your insides. “Fuck, Johnny. You’re, you’re so big, and s-strong.”
Johnny laughed, and you wondered for a second whether you had ruined the mood. “My cock making you lose your filter, babe?” You blushed, but the constant bump and stretch on your clit had your vision go foggy, your head spinning deliriously. You used your forearms to push away, breathing deeply as if his cock had suffocated you from the inside out. Johnny wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing you flush against his pelvis in one swift movement. “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” His snarkiness and the fulness in your lower stomach made your core squeeze excessively. “Ah, shit! Fuck, I think I’m gon-“ You felt it before you could finish your sentence, your climax stealing the words out of your mouth, making your heart thump incessantly against your ribcage.
Johnny cooed at your, his forearms now caging you by your head, peppering light kisses on your face. “You alright, sweet girl?” You nodded, gasping. “Please, please move.” He chuckled, groaning as he pulled back to thrust into you, making you throw your head back and scream. “Fuck, oh my god.” Your body shook with the force of his steady thrusts, his legs pinning your body down to the bed. “Good girl, that’s it.” He groaned, getting sloppier as he reached his climax. “You’re so good for me. So eager for me to pin you down and fuck you. Because I’m so big and strong, right?” You reached for Johnny’s neck, the embarrassment at your previous comments leaving you as you felt your core tighten, coil ready to snap. “Fuck, you just gripped me so tight, fuck. Nasty girl.” You moaned as you came, feeling him release inside the condom with a throaty moan.
Both of you heaving, gasping for air, you pulled Johnny close to your body, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his face. “I do like you, a lot.” Your breath tickled his skin as you spoke, and he stroked your hair gently with one hand, using the other to pull away from you to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you small. I admit, it’s a little weird.”
“Apology accepted. I think we’ve both called each other things we’re never gonna say again.”
“No, hon, you should always call me big and strong Johnny-“
“Johnny, please. Never mention that again. It was a moment of weakness!” You whined, shielding your face as he laughed, slipping off you to lie next to you on the bed. “Kinda sexy though.” You slapped his arm playfully, laughing as slipped down his forearm to take his hand in yours.
“I’ll think of something better for next time, promise.”
#kpop#nct#nct fanfiction#kpop fanfiction#nct scenarios#nct fanfic#nct imagine#kpop imagine#nct 127#nct x reader#johnny suh#johnny smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#kpop smut
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Hello! As an SA survivor, I really appreciated your story with Naoya. My comfort character is Nanami and I was wondering if you could write something similar? Where reader has an anxiety attack bc of her trauma and finally tells nanami about it? She’s worried that he won’t accept her and nanami reminds her he’ll never do that. It’s a heavy topic so I completely understand if you want to pass on this! I appreciate your writing regardless so thank you for taking the time to write & post these stories :)
hii! i'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond (can you believe my last post was almost half a year ago :0) but thank you for the ask! i made this absurdly long because i love backstories but i hope you like it :)
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nanami x fem reader (she/her pronouns used) - fluff & comfort - pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby) - wc. 7.7k
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please note that there are mentions of SA (nothing explicit/graphic) after the little "exhibit" sections are over. if you aren't comfortable with mentions of past SA (ex: nanami asking if someone has "hurt" reader) please don't read past the little "exhibit" scenarios or don't read/expand the post at all :) again, it's pure fluff in the "exhibit a, b, c" parts, after that SA is discussed/alluded to
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Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.
Exhibit A: The time you were an hour late to your first date.
—
“Come on, just trust me on this one!” Shoko exclaims as she pelts you with blueberries—your blueberries.
“Hey!” You glare at your best friend, snatching the bowl of fruit away before any more berries end up on the floor. “Do you know how much blueberries cost these days? They’re not in season right now and—”
“Blah blah,” Shoko sticks her tongue out at you. “I’m not saying you have to marry him.. It’s just one date!” She pauses, tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve been friends with him since high school… He’s a really nice guy, very respectful.”
“Oh?” You quirk an eyebrow at your roommate, laughter bubbling over your lips. “Very respectful,” you’re giggling now, “I’m sure he’s veryy respectful.”
Shoko groans, hands scrubbing at her face. “You’re unbelievable—I need a cigarette,” she mutters.
“You’re unbelievable! You’re a med student who smokes!” you cry out, flinging an accusatory finger at her.
Shoko just snorts, waving a dismissive hand in your direction as she pats at her pockets for her lighter. “I’m serious though, I think he would be good for you.”
“Sure, he’s exactly what I need,” you reply dryly. “What was his name again? Nanami something—”
“Kento,” Shoko chimes in.
“—Nanami Kento,” you finish, twirling a blueberry between your thumb and index finger. “I’m sure he’s a great person. But you know there’s a reason why I’m never home when your guy friends are over…” You trail off, shrugging as if you’re unbothered, but Shoko sees the way your brows furrow and lips tremble. “Plus, I’m too busy with my dissertation and research to try to have a life,” you huff, easing the tension with some lighthearted humor, popping the berry into your mouth.
Shoko rolls her eyes at you good-naturedly, waggling her brows as she tries to lift your spirits. “What if I showed you a picture of him?”
-
Two photos, a not-so-slick mention of Nanami’s height by Shoko, and a sworn testament to his upstanding character later, you fold.
-
You, 6:47 PM
hey! i’m running late right now, there was an emergency at the lab. can we push the date from 7 to 8? i’m really sorry :(
Nanami Kento, 6:50 PM
Yes, of course. I hope everything is okay, take as long as you need.
You, 6:51 PM
thank you so much! again, i’m really sorry. i should be there by 8 :)
-
Nanami reads your text, slipping his phone into his pocket as he sighs. He had already arrived at the restaurant by the time he saw your first message—it’s too late to leave and come back now. He takes a seat in the waiting area, glancing at the bouquet in his lap. Shoko had threatened to break both his legs if he so much as breathed at you wrong tonight—he hopes you won’t find the flowers too much for a first date.
Nanami thinks back to what he knows about you. He remembers the first time he was at Shoko’s place: you were nowhere in sight (much to the dismay of Gojo, who kept asking Shoko to play matchmaker for him), but Shoko just explained that you were studying late at the library. Every time after that, it was another excuse: Shoko’s roommate can’t come because she’s busy in the lab, busy at the library, busy writing her dissertation, busy running simulations, busy reading papers, busy being a TA, busy meeting with her advisor. He’s only seen you once while at your apartment, and that was because he accidentally walked into your room thinking it was the bathroom: You’d been hunched over your desk, back to the door, and Nanami had immediately walked right back out into the hallway upon his realization that bathrooms didn’t usually contain beds and desks, shutting the door as quickly as possible so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t even turned around by the time he was gone.
That was the first and last time Nanami Kento ever saw you. At least until last week, when he received a text from Shoko detailing your contact info and a winky face, phone lighting up with a call from your roommate moments later.
“Hello?”
“Kentoooo!!! Guess what??” Shoko’s voice is all high pitched and giggly, barely containing her excitement.
Nanami thinks he knows exactly what she’s up to. “What is it?” he ventures.
“My roommate just agreed to go on a date! With you!!” Shoko’s glee is apparent, even through the tinny speaker on Nanami’s phone. “I just sent—”
“I never asked her out,” Nanami cuts in. He’s frowning slightly: not entirely opposed to the idea, just hoping Shoko hasn’t gone and planned your marriage without his knowledge.
Shoko’s sigh echoes loudly over the line, and Nanami winces at the earful he’s sure to be in for. “I know,” she’s rolling her eyes now. “That’s why—if you would just let me finish my sentence—I sent you her number so you could ask her yourself.”
Nanami’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over before he asks, “Why are you doing this?”
Shoko doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re both losers with no lives,” she laughs a little at her own joke, then slowly considers her next words. “And… I think you would treat her well—I know you would be good to her, and she deserves that.”
Nanami can tell how much Shoko cares about you, from the way she spoke about you to the way she threatened to buy 51% of his start up’s shares and tank the company if he ever hurt you. Yeah, he really hopes you don’t think he’s coming on too strong with the flowers.
So, Nanami sits in the restaurant patiently, checking his phone ever so often to make sure he hasn’t missed any messages from you, smiling and telling the hostess he’d like to wait a while longer to be seated. And when you do show up—17 minutes earlier than expected—he’s all smiles and reassurances. You’re feeling (and looking) frazzled, apologies spilling out from your mouth like a dam let loose as you follow him and the hostess to your table. But Nanami’s the quintessential gentleman: waving away your guilt and apologetic expression, pulling your chair out for you, handing you the beautiful arrangement of flowers, pouring you a glass of water to help calm you down, insisting you call him Kento.
And though most people wince and attempt to change the topic when you talk research, Kento’s patient as he listens to your ramblings on the roadblocks you face, the students you have to teach, the lack of common sense in the lab. He makes a point to ask questions about your research, finding it interesting because you find it interesting, loving the way your face lights up when you get to describe the implications of your findings.
You hate to admit it, already hearing Shoko’s “I told you so!” in your head as you think to yourself, but Nanami Kento might just be exactly what you need.
—
Exhibit B: The time you spent 4 consecutive days with your head in a toilet bowl.
—
Shoko Ieri, 1:58 PM
dude, what the hell are you doing right now???
Nanami Kento, 2:01 PM
What do you mean? I’m working.
Shoko Ieri, 2:01 PM
what could possibly be so important with your company that you’d be working right now??
Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM
It’s 2 PM on a Monday… Am I not supposed to be working right now?
Shoko Ieri, 2:02 PM
you’re so fucking dense you would sink in the dead sea. your girlfriend has been throwing up all day and you’re WORKING?
Nanami Kento, 2:02 PM
Throwing up? What do you mean??
**Incoming call from Nanami Kento**
“Hey assho—”
“What do you mean she’s been throwing up all day?” Kento’s voice is tinged with urgency and worry. “Is she okay? Are you there with her? Can you check her temperature? I’ll be there in—”
“Dude,” Shoko cuts in, “Don’t act like you didn’t know. There’s no way you didn’t know—I mean she’s been hurling like crazy since this morning, and you’re an asshole for not checking up on her.”
Kento’s shocked, and still extremely worried, trying to just get Shoko to focus so he can make sure you’re okay. “I really didn’t know, Ieri, she hasn’t texted me at all today.” His voice is strained, concern evident in his tone. “Please tell me you’re at home with her—is she okay?”
“Well…” Shoko considers how to best put your condition so as to not cause Kento a heart attack, a little confused on why you didn’t tell him anything. “She’s been throwing up pretty steadily throughout the day and she’s got a pretty bad fever.”
“How bad are we talking? I’m driving over right now.”
“104 degrees… 104.6 last I checked,” Shoko winces as she says it, knowing how bad it sounds.
“Oh my god.” The absolute terror in Kento’s voice makes Shoko wince even harder. “Ieri, we need to get her to a hospital—this is serious.”
Shoko shakes her head, reporting dejectedly, “She won’t go. I tried a couple hours ago but she said she doesn’t get paid enough by the school to afford an emergency visit.”
Kento’s at a loss for words.
“She said she’ll be fine since I’m ‘basically a doctor,’” Shoko finishes bitterly.
“T-that’s not… You’re not… Y-you’re just a med student—that’s not the same thing—” Kento thinks he might have a heart attack.
“I know, I know,” Shoko sighs. “But, I don’t think it’s anything too bad. She isn’t throwing up blood, her breath and heart rate are both pretty stable, and she was conscious enough to talk back to me when I tried to get her to the hospital.”
“Okay,” Kento says as he takes deep breaths, trying to not think about you dying or suffering or—“Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll be there soon, then. We can talk later.”
“Alright. Drive safe—I don’t need another patient to look after,” Shoko jokes before hanging up.
5 minutes later, a stressed Nanami Kento is on your doorstep, rushing in as soon as Shoko answers the door, barely listening to what she’s saying as he moves towards your room. And then he’s inside, kneeling before your bed as his eyes dart over your figure, murmuring a gentle, “Hi baby, how are you feeling?”
You blink your eyes open, trying to pull yourself out of that feverish fog blanketing your mind as you slowly register who’s in your line of sight. No… It can’t be. How did he find out? He’s not supposed to be here—you didn’t tell him for a reason.
“Ken?…” You rub at your eyes, sitting up with a whimper as a wave of nausea hits you square in the stomach. “W-why are you here?”
“Because somebody told me you have a 104 fever, and it wasn’t you,” Kento tuts, tone disapproving but eyes gentle.
“Ieri…” you mumble, shaking your head slightly.
“Ieri,” he confirms, shaking his own head—this time at you. “We’ll talk more about that later… Right now, I need to make sure my darling is feeling okay.”
Your mind is still foggy, but your lips quirk up into a small smile as you tease in a small voice, “Your darling is feeling superb.” You give him a weak thumbs up and cheesy grin. “I feel great.”
“Really? Because there’s a bit of vomit on your chin right now,” Kento deadpans, secretly relieved you’re feeling well enough to joke.
And then you cry out in mock outrage, regretting it almost immediately as you clutch at your middle, the outburst costing you a fit of spasms and pain in your stomach. Kento’s mood sobers instantly as he gently rubs at your back, asks if there’s anything he can do for you, adjusting the pillows behind you to help ease you into a more comfortable position.
“You should go,” you whisper as you reach up to grip his hand.
“Now why would I do that?” Kento asks, smiling softly as he feels your hold on his hand tighten.
You turn your face into the pillows, mumbling out a muffled, “I’m sick… and gross. I can’t let you see me like this.” You groan, turning your head back to look at your boyfriend as you caution, “And you’re going to get sick.”
Kento just smiles as he cups your hand between his own. “You never look gross, and I won’t get sick because I don’t overwork myself.”
You huff out a tired sigh, weakly swatting at the hands wrapped around your own as you slur, “It’s rude to torment the sick and dying,” and turn on your side to face the wall—away from your amused caretaker.
-
For the next three days, Kento—with the help of Shoko, (not quite) M.D.—looks after you as you miraculously manage to regurgitate every bit of sustenance you consume. He’s cleaned that metal “throw-up” bowl on your nightstand—meant to be used in case you couldn’t get to the bathroom in time—more times that he can count. He’s changed your sheets, helped you to the bathroom, and dutifully cooked light soups and stews, spooning them into your mouth before inevitably patting your back reassuringly as you throw it up into the toilet. Most of all, he’s poked and prodded you with that goddamn thermometer: if you had the strength to, you’d steal it right out of his hands and tell him to quit being a mother hen.
But Kento just can’t help his worrying. To take care of you, he’s been staying the night over, sleeping on that couch in the living room he’s definitely too large for. Even Shoko feels a little bad for him, watching him dutifully set alarms for every other hour so he can check up on you throughout the night. The two of them work in tandem to make sure you’re okay, combining the power of Shoko’s education with Kento’s sheer stress to maximize your care.
And when you finally come to—when the haze clouding your thoughts finally clears—he’s just as patient and gentle as he has been over the past few days.
“You’ve gotta stop overworking yourself, sweetheart,” Kento murmurs into the top of your head.
“I can rest when I’m dead,” you protest, twisting from your position on his chest to make a show out of the dramatic wink you send his way.
Kento groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sigh, helping you curl back up on top of him.
You giggle, breath fanning out against his collarbone, amused by Kento’s exasperation. “Thanks for taking care of me though, Ken. You’re the best,” you whisper softly, turning to pressing a kiss against his neck.
“Of course, darling,” he replies quietly, voice full of love. Then, louder, feigning nonchalance, Kento announces, “But if you don’t start taking better care of yourself, you’ll be on your own, and I’ll just watch from a distance and say ‘I told you so’ when you get sick.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me!” you pout, frowning at the thought of him purposely ignoring you.
Kento sighs, pretending to be upset, “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that.” He reports dejectedly, “I just love you too much,” practically able to feel your smile at his words against his skin. “But—” he leans down and tilts your head up to look at him, thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place to maintain steady eye contact. “—the next time you’re sick or in need of help, you’ll tell me directly.” His voice is serious, as firm as his grip on your chin and it makes you nervous, like you’re in trouble, eyes darting around to avoid his gaze. “No trying to hide it, no making me worry. I shouldn’t have found out about your fever from Ieri—you should have told me yourself. I don’t want you hiding things from me, especially if it’s about your health and well-being. Got it?”
You’ve tensed up against Kento, heart hammering in your throat as you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. His free hand moves to soothe your back—trying to show that he’s not angry with you—as he drops his hand from your chin, eyes tracking the way you hang your head to avoid looking at him.
And then, after a bout of anxiousness, you nod, stealing a glance up at Kento to gauge his mood as you start, “I’m sorry, Ken, I didn’t mean to worry you.” You take a deep breath before you continue, “I just didn’t want to bother you. I knew you’d drop everything if you heard I was sick and it wouldn’t have been fair for me to take advantage of you like that.” You pick at a piece of lint on his shirt, avoiding catching his eye and aiming for humor as you add, “And nobody wants to watch their partner throw up, it’s gross. I couldn’t let you fall out of love with me like that.”
Kento cracks a smile. “Darling, if you think throwing up in front of me is going to make me stop loving you, I need to do a much better job of showing you how much you mean to me.”
You huff out a laugh at that, but he’s not done, cupping your hands with his own as he looks down at you. “And you’re never a bother, baby, ever. I’m never going to be upset with you for letting me know you’re not feeling well—and you won’t be ‘taking advantage’ of me by letting me know. It’s my own choice to take care of you and it makes me happy to do it.”
You’re looking down at where Kento’s hands are wrapped around your own, but you nod, letting his words sink in as you duck your head back down into the crook of his neck. “Thanks, Ken,” you whisper, trying to hide how relieved and emotional him saying that makes you feel. “That means… a lot to me. I’ll promise I won’t hide things from you anymore.”
Your boyfriend smiles, replying with a soft “good girl” as he runs his thumb along the back of your hand. He’s glad you’re opening up, and as you doze off on him, exhausted from your past couple of days and lulled to sleep by the comfortable silence and gentle caresses, he feels a surge of affection settle over his heart.
—
Exhibit C: The time you he won a stuffed lion at the fair.
—
Today is a special day. There are no papers to grade, no students to teach, no presentations or talks to prepare, and your research has reached a point where you can confidently take a few days off to rest. Naturally, you decide to optimize this golden opportunity by doing only the essentials: Scheduling a long overdue doctor’s appointment, deep cleaning your apartment, spending as much time with Kento as possible, going to the fair…. Just the essentials!
So—essentially—you’re at the fair with Kento, ignoring your ever growing list of responsibilities in favor of overpriced food and rigged carnival games. Kento’s already sporting a large tote on one shoulder, ready to collect all the prizes you’re eager to win.
Three hours, six stuffed animals, a pizza, two churros, a basket of fries, five rides, and a petting zoo later, you find yourself surveying the prizes on display in front of the cursed ring toss.
“Awww, Ken look at that one!” You’re pointing to a stuffed lion sitting amongst the prizes. “It kinda looks like you, don’t you think?”
The face Kento’s making right now can only be described as… distaste. “No… Love, I don’t see the resemblance.”
“No, no, no, look at the color! It looks just like your hair,” you exclaim, gasping and pointing once more as you realize, “Hey! It even has a little frown on its face! Do you see it Ken?”
“I don’t frown that often,” Kento says with a frown. “I’m quite happy when I’m with you.”
You burst into a fit of laughter, wishing he could have watched himself say that. “Sure, Ken,” you drawl, patting him on the shoulder as you get in line for the game, set on winning his lion-lookalike.
However, after 4 tries and an absurd amount of money, you decide to call for backup.
"Kennn," you singsong as you turn to look at him with big, pleading eyes. "Can you help me win this game?"
Kento's heart sinks, feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he'd do anything to make you happy. On the other hand, if he helps you win the lion, he'll spend the rest of his days hearing "Awww.. Isn't he just so cute?? He looks just like you, baby!" about a stuffed, over-evolved house cat.
But, in the end, the little angel on his shoulder (with a voice that sounds suspiciously similar to yours) wins. As Kento steps up for his try, he half considers putting no effort in and losing the game just so you won’t be able to correlate his good looks to a stuffed animal. Then, he (or maybe the little angel up there) decides he can’t do that to you—it would just be too cruel.
So, Kento gets ready for his turn: rolling his sleeves up, passing you the bag on his shoulder, and sighing without meaning to.
His first try is a failure. Each of the 5 rings supplied magically bounced off the bottlenecks, frustrating him to no end. “This game is rigged, sweetheart. We should find something else to play,” Kento grumbles, turning away from the booth with an irritated expression.
You shake your head, insisting, “But this is the only game we’ve seen that has that stuffed lion!” Then, you bring out the big guns, clasping your hands together and widening your eyes, begging, “Please, Ken..”
Aaaand…. He’s a goner, always so soft and willing when it comes to you.
Reinvigorated by your pleading and determined to make you happy, your boyfriend sets out on a mission to win you that stuffed lion.
After his first try, Kento sighs so hard you think you might physically feel the wind from it tickling at your forehead.
After his second try, Kento turns to you and drops a sweet little kiss on your nose to remind himself why he’s subjecting himself to this frustrating torture.
After his third try, Kento runs a hand through his hair, readjusting his sleeves with more force than necessary as he squints menacingly at the table of glass bottles.
After his fourth try, you tug at his wrist, telling him, “You don’t have to keep trying, Ken. It’s okay.” You feel guilty watching him get more and more frustrated, but he smiles, patting the back of your hand as he tells you it’s okay.
After his fifth try, Kento looks up at the stuffed lion as he takes a deep, calming breath, trying to stay focused on winning the prize and not how annoying this blatantly rigged game is.
After his sixth try, you’re seriously impressed by Kento’s ability to remain calm. You practically had steam coming out of your ears with each of your missed throws, but he’s taking this like a champ—maybe you’ll read some of his self help books to learn his ways.
After his seventh try, Kento curses under his breath, beginning to lose his cool.
After his eighth try, Kento thinks it might be time to start believing in a deity: Maybe he would have won on his first or second try with divine intervention on his side.
And then! After returning to purchase almost ten consecutive attempts and officially creeping out the worker managing the booth, Kento’s fourth ring finally finds its place around the neck of a bottle!!
You jump up and down and clap in celebration, elated by Kento’s victory. He immediately turns toward you, excitement written across his features as he wraps you up in a hug. You’re giggling and pressing kisses onto his cheek, murmuring thank you’s against his skin as you both grin ear to ear—both entirely too old to be so elated over a win at the carnival.
And even as you tease him, holding the stuffed toy up next to his face in comparison, he thinks his patience may have just paid off.
—
Nanami Kento is an exceedingly patient man.
That’s why, as you break down in front of him, he’s patient.
Just minutes ago, you’d been okay—you’d been more than okay. Seated on Kento’s lap, breath heavy as he scattered kisses across your face—moving from cheek to nose to lips to forehead—you’d been beyond okay.
Nothing had been too out of the ordinary: though Kento wasn’t a voracious and demanding lover, the two of you had shared more than a fair amount of kisses and “makeout sessions.” And you enjoyed these kisses, these “sessions,” but you also enjoyed keeping it at that, never progressing further than a few wandering touches and a lost shirt or two. Kento, always happy to follow your lead, to respect your boundaries, would never press further when you’d break away and ask to go to bed, to watch the movie, to cook dinner together.
Tonight, you planned on spending the night together at Kento’s apartment. Falling asleep and waking up next to Kento might be one of your favorite things in the world: his hair is always perfectly mussed, voice deep and raspy, and touch gentle and loving. You always wake up happy and warm all over when you feel his arm around your middle, breath hot on your ear as he murmurs a low “Good morning, darling.”
So, you show up at Kento’s place at around 6, a bag of groceries on your arm, just like usual. The two of you work together in the kitchen, each spoon feeding the other small taste-tests, just like usual. Dinner is a quiet, romantic affair, intimate and sweet, just like usual. After the wining and dining, you two curl up in bed and watch an episode of that show you’re slowly making your way through together, just like usual.
And when you end up straddling him, TV already shut off, fingers gently twisting in his soft, golden hair, Kento thinks he can get used to this being added to your usual. His hands are splayed out across your back, keeping you close to his chest as he smiles into your swollen, kiss-bitten lips. And when he starts dropping sweet little kisses—like a saint delivering small blessings—all over your face, who are you to hold back that little whimper in the back of your throat? Who is Kento to deny the surge of desire flaring low in his stomach at your reactions? His hands slip underneath your shirt, playing with the band of your bra as you squirm against him and tilt your head up to kiss him again. He moves further—further than he’s ever gone with you—and runs a finger along the underside of the waistband of your pants, brushing a knuckle against the soft skin of your pelvis.
That’s when everything changes.
The second you feel Kento touch you lower than your stomach you freeze up, jerking away from the soft kiss you’d been caught up in. Your eyes go wide and you scramble off of his lap, breath frantic as you try to calm the spike of panic blurring your senses. You’re trying to keep an eye on Kento—on his movements and expressions and demeanor—but it’s hard with how suddenly you’ve become overwhelmed and it makes you feel scared, the way you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do next.
It was just one touch, it’s okay. He doesn’t know, he didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to... It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s—
“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay,” Kento tries to soothe you, but you look at him like you’re… scared of him and he hates himself for frightening you so bad.
What happened?
He thinks he might have an idea of what may have set you off, and as your breathing becomes more and more erratic, he begins to worry.
“Baby,” Kento starts, tone gentle. “Has someone ever… hurt you like this? By touching you?”
The way you flinch at his words is enough to confirm his suspicions, but Kento stays quiet, waiting for you to respond.
You don’t want to tell him. Your eyes keep darting around, nervous gaze cast down onto the blanket as you think about how you should lie—
But, wait. You promised Kento that you wouldn’t hide things from him, that you’d tell him things about your health and well-being. You really shouldn’t lie to him, not about this, but you really don’t want to tell him.
You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to say that it was your fault, that maybe you deserved it. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to start treating you like you’re dirty or shameful, like an embarrassing secret. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to get angry at you for not telling him sooner, because maybe he wouldn’t have loved you all this time—wasted all this time—if he knew. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want him to tell you that it isn’t a big deal, that you don’t have a right to be so upset over something like this, that you’re overreacting. You don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to ruin this peaceful little thing between you and him with your own issues and nightmares. You don’t want to tell him because—
Crap. You’ve been stuck in your own head for too long. The air feels thick with an awkwardly long silence as you scramble to mash together an appropriate response, but Kento’s patient and he waits without judgement, kind eyes filled with worry.
And you really don’t want to tell him, eyes welling up with tears because you’re stressed and anxious and not sure about what you’re supposed to do.
Finally, you decide to just lie, choking out a pained, “No—” as hot tears spill over your cheeks. You feel horrible and guilty for lying, knowing that Kento has never been anything but upfront and honest with you, but you’ve never been as good and brave as him so you let the lie spread its wings and shield you.
Your breath is coming out in short, stuttered pants as you try to fight the wave of anxiety attempting to drown you, hands coming up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your choked sobs.
You feel horrible.
You feel horrible for lying.
You feel horrible because you ruined the moment of fun you were having with Kento.
You feel horrible for this breakdown, even if you know you can’t help it, because Kento doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this baggage he didn’t ask for.
You feel horrible because being with Kento has helped you come so far out of your shell, but now it feels like it’s all been ruined, like no matter how much progress you make, you’ll never be able to fully heal, fully escape.
You feel horrible because you can’t get those memories out of your head.
You feel horrible because you keep thinking about the last time someone touched you where Kento did.
You feel horrible for ever correlating Kento and his goodness to that person, even if it’s just in your head, even if you can’t help it, even if it’s involuntary because you’re scared.
You just feel horrible. You feel horrible about everything. And when Kento reaches for you, moving to try and gently tug at your wrist, worried about your frantic breathing and the way you seem to be trying to stop your breathing altogether with your shaking hands, you feel even worse.
When you see Kento’s hand move toward your face, you flinch so hard you choke, gasping behind your palm as you squeeze your eyes shut, shoulders tightening up with fear. You’re so on edge right now and your vision is too blurry with tears to properly gauge if he’s angry at you or not, so you just figure he is. You figure he’s seen through your lie and he’s upset with you, upset for a multitude of reasons that just overwhelm you further. You figure that if your tears dried you’d look up and find an angry Kento looming above you, brows pulled low and lips stretched into a disgusted sneer.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Kento gently murmurs, pulling his hand back, interrupting your self-destructive thoughts. “I need you to take a few deep breaths with me—think you can do that for me baby?”
Numbly, through all the noise in your mind, you follow Kento’s voice like a lifeline, nodding with an uncoordinated jerk of your neck.
“Good girl,” he praises you kindly. “Now I’m gonna need you to move your hands away from your mouth,” Kento instructs, adding softly, “Gotta stop holding your breath sweetheart, gotta let yourself breathe, even if your breathing isn’t quite right yet.”
Taking a shuddering breath, you nod again, dropping your hands from your mouth. But, once your hands drop, you stop trying to control your gasping breathing and begin to panic at the heavy heaving of your chest. Now, you’re breathing too irregularly and awkwardly: inhaling when you need to exhale and exhaling over your exhales and struggling to just take a solid breath in because your lungs won’t listen.
Because you’re breathing too rapidly, you’re simultaneously suffocating and breathing too much, escalating your panic. You’re scared and getting lightheaded and it’s too much—one hand comes up to muffle your mouth again almost immediately.
However, this time Kento is prepared, and his voice pulls you back to reality as he murmurs, “Ohhh, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is low and sweet and it makes you pause, instinctively wanting to listen. “I know it’s scary, but you have to keep your hand away from your mouth. Don’t try to restrict your breathing—there you go, there’s my good girl.”
You’ve tugged your hand away again, placing it in your lap as you blink up at Kento through watery lashes.
“Alright, sweetheart, now I want you to focus on your breathing. I’m going to take a few deep breaths and I want you to try to match your breathing with mine,” he says gently. “Does that sound okay?”
You nod shakily, panic ebbing slightly as you listen to his familiar voice and begin to follow the slow rhythm he sets.
“Inhale…. Exhale…”
“Inhale…” Exhale.
Inhale… Exhale….
“Good girl, that was perfect. You’re doing amazing, love,” he praises. You know he’s just being kind—your breath is stuttering and you’re involuntarily mixing up the inhales and exhales—but Kento’s reassurance makes you feel safe and calm regardless.
After a few more cycles of breath, the dizziness fades and oxygen begins steadily flowing through your lungs as you follow Kento’s lead.
Inhale… “Exhale…”
“Inhale… Exhale…”
Inhale… Exhale….
As you continue to try to control your breathing, you reach out to pick up his hand, trying to silently bridge the gap between you two, making the small first move to show him that you’re slowly becoming more comfortable and grounded. He lets you lace your hand in his, thumb comfortingly brushing against the skin of your hand, the touch gently reassuring you that you’re safe.
Soon, you feel confident enough to wordlessly move towards Kento, letting him wrap you up in a comforting embrace. Being in his arms always makes you feel better, and now that you’ve calmed down enough to realize that he’s not going to hurt you, you press yourself into his chest, searching for his steady patience and gentle manner. Your breathing has evened out, and your mind has cleared enough for you to begin flipping back on what just happened. Kento stays quiet, letting you sort through the cascade of emotions you just experienced, but the silence doesn’t feel hostile—it’s welcoming and patient.
You were kissing Kento, and then he.. he touched you and it freaked you out, and then he was talking to you and… And then he asked you a question. He asked if… He wanted to know if—
Oh my god. You lied to him.
Oh god. You need to apologize—own up to what you did and tell him the truth. But as you think about what to do, your breath begins to stumble over itself again and your heart rate picks up, anxiety taking over your senses.
Your eyes fill up with tears and you look up at Kento, saying in a small voice, “Ken? I… I lied to you… earlier.” Your words are continually interrupted by an emerging pattern of involuntary breaths and hiccups, but you continue on, “I… When y-you asked… S-someone has hurt—hurt me.. before… I lied to—to you.”
You’re fully crying now, and Kento tries calming you down, rubbing your back carefully, heart sinking at your tears and the way your breathing begins to turn into struggling gasps again.
“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into the top of your head, continuing to gently soothe your back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me—my brave, brave girl.”
Kento’s heart hurts. It hurts knowing that you’ve been hurt in the past, that you’re sobbing in his arms because someone hurt you. It hurts knowing that you felt too scared to tell him the truth, and it hurts even more knowing that you feel scared to admit that you lied. He wants you to feel comfortable with him—to know that you should never be scared of him.
“I-Im,” you choke out through gasping breaths, “‘m sorry—I’m sorry, so—sorry. I’m sorry, K-Ken.”
You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you need to be apologizing for something. Maybe you’re apologizing for lying. Maybe you’re apologizing for having been assaulted. Maybe you’re apologizing to try to appease Kento so he won’t be as angry with you for your betrayal—for not being the person he thought you were. Maybe you’re apologizing for not letting him continue to touch you—for stopping before you’re hurt again.
But Kento just shakes his head kindly, patting your back good-naturedly in response. “It’s okay sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Shhhh, shhhhhh, you’re okay, it’s okay, shhhhh,” he coaxes gently.
“I’m sorry—sorry, ‘m really sorry f-for lying to you.” You keep apologizing, barely registering his words to you. All of your guilt from everything has cumulated, and though you’re apologizing for lying, deep down you’re apologizing for much, much more.
“It’s okay, darling,” Kento tells you quietly, ever so patient as you choke on sob after sob. “I’m not upset with you, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not angry, baby.”
His voice is so achingly gentle, and the way he rubs circles into your back makes your heart break and shatter. How can a person be filled with so much good? You expected anger and rejection, but Kento is being so accepting and sweet it makes you break down into tears. After being mistreated for so long, it feels odd to be embraced so wholly and kindly, and you feel like you don’t deserve to be treated with so much care.
Kento, however, is on a mission to make you feel better. He gracefully waves off your apologies, insisting that it’s okay, that you have nothing to be sorry for. Instead, he apologizes, bowing his head as he begs your forgiveness for overstepping your boundaries. When you shake your head vehemently, insisting he didn’t do anything wrong, he just scolds you gently, “You don’t need to take the blame for everything—it’s okay to give yourself a break. I know I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m deeply sorry. I pushed you past what you were comfortable with and it’s not your fault, it’s mine.”
That makes you go quiet, the silence split only by your uneven and choppy breathing—remnants of the tears still sporadically tumbling from your lashes. Kento’s apology is earnest, and his insistence that you not blame yourself makes you see the situation in a new light.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s okay for you to give yourself a break once in a while. Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong and you’re just so used to being told it was your fault that you’ve come to believe it. Maybe, even if he didn’t mean you any harm, he still hurt you, and you deserved his apology for the way it scared you.
You’re silent for a little while longer, but then you reach up and pat him on the head, fluffy strands of hair ruffled by the act of affection.
“Thank you, Ken,” you tell him with a sweet, forgiving smile. “Thank you for apologizing, but I don’t blame you for what happened. You didn’t know my exact boundaries and you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s okay, really.”
However, there’s still one more thing in the back of your mind bothering you.
“But… Do you still.. want to be with me? I mean, does it bother you that—that—” You break off, unable to finish your sentence.
“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, love.” Kento pulls back slightly, one arm cradling your back as the other moves to wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “This doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still the same person I fell in love with, and I’m not ‘bothered’ by anything about you. Nothing about this is your fault, and I would never treat it as such.”
You nod, relief written all over your face as you breathe out, “Okay, okay.”
“Seriously,” he huffs. “Where are you getting these silly ideas from? I would never leave you, especially not over this.”
Kento seems almost offended that you think he’d stoop so low, tapping your nose as he clucks his tongue in disapproval. You just shrug self-consciously, a little flustered by how sincere he’s being.
“Okay, then,” you sigh dramatically, scrubbing away at the last of your tears. “I guess I’ll have to just take one for the team and stay with you forever—since you’re obviously so obsessed with me.”
“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You’re quite generous, entertaining this obsession.”
“Yup,” you confirm, waving a dismissive hand as you continue in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s your lucky day. I’m running a one-night special where I grant the favors of my fans.” A grin is slowly making its way onto your face, and your smile bleeds into your tone when you tease, “Don’t get too excited though—I know it’s big news.”
Kento has the most lovesick look on his face as he looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, I’m certainly one lucky fan.”
And you giggle at that, wrapping your arms around his middle as you snuggle into his hold. “You’re my favorite fan,” you mumble into his shirt, pressing your cheek against his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.
“Hey, does that mean you have other fans you like?”
—
bonus:
“What are you watching?” You ask, poking your head over Kento’s shoulder to peek at the video he’s watching on his phone.
He jumps up, shutting off the screen immediately, stuttering, “N-nothing, darling.”
You’re unconvinced, reaching for his phone as you squint at him. “Really? You seem awfully jumpy for someone doing ‘nothing,’” you deadpan. Then, you narrow your eyes, accusing, “You better not be watching extra episodes of that kdrama you said you hated without me. I know you secretly love it—it’s okay, you can admit it!”
You’ve got a smug grin on your face and Kento doesn’t even try to fight it as you enter the passcode to his phone (your birthday, of course), accepting defeat and rubbing at his temples as the screen unlocks to the Youtube video he’d been watching. He’d rather endure the teasing than try to wrestle the device away from you and accidentally hurt or scare you in the process.
“‘Helping Someone Who Is Having A Panic Attack,’” you read out loud, glancing up at your boyfriend as your eyes widen, grin slowly fading. You click on his watch history, jaw dropping as you see his recently played videos.
What Is A Panic Attack?
How To Help Your Friend During A Panic Attack
Signs Of Hyperventilation And How To Stop Hyperventilating
Best Breathing Technique To Calm Panic Attacks And Anxiety
What NOT To Say To Someone Who Is Having An Anxiety Attack
“Oh my.. Oh my god. Oh my god, Ken.” Your eyes have welled up with tears. You can’t believe he’s been researching how to help you—you don’t even have words to describe how emotional this makes you feel.
Kento has a sheepish look on his face, a little embarrassed you caught him binging those videos. “Yeah… I uh..” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just wanted to… yknow…” He shrugs, and it’s pathetic and lame and it makes you love him that much more. “Wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing… Just in case you ever get… scared.. again.” He coughs a little, looking self-conscious. “Not—not that I think it’ll happen again but—”
You cut him off before he can get another word in, practically suffocating him as you wrap him up in a tight hug. Your arms around his neck are squeezing, but Kento doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek as you whisper, “Thank you,” voice thick with emotion.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
—
if you've made it this far: thank you for reading :) please take care of yourself, and for all of my survivors out there, please know that it's not your fault, never will be your fault, and never has been your fault!! i love you all and i hope everybody has a great rest of their summer :D
#nanami kento#kento nanami#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#jjk fluff#jjk comfort#jjk fluff & comfort#nanami fanfic#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk nanami#nanami x you#nanami x fem!reader#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen comfort
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White face and black eyes || Joel Miller x reader
Summary: You explore an abandoned mall and Joel discovers one of your kinks.
CW: Sub/dom dynamics, reader is hinted at being younger and not knowing much of the world before so age gap, mask kink, pet names (darling, honey, baby, little girl), praise kink, Joel is rough, a bit of knife play, fingering, bj, riding, publicish sex in a post-apocalyptical setting, reader is cock drunk, minimal editing and all mistakes are mine.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
“I’m goin’ to the right, you’re goin’ to the left. We join in the middle.” Joel ordered, flashlight over his gun as he looked around carefully, an eagle watching a potential pray.
“Fine.”
Part of your exploration consisted of visiting this old mall to find anything of substance. Sadly, in the midst of the panic, everything was mostly taken. Still, you sometimes found something interesting and new to you. Like this little cabin that looked like a time machine you found after walking for a bit. It was a rectangular cabin, the opening covered by a threadbare curtain. Withing the faded letters, you could barely distinguish the words “photobooth”. You were foreign to this concept, being born not too long before the modern world ended.
Carefully, you stepped inside the weird cabin. It was a tight fit. Inside was a weird broken screen and a tiny seat, that could only fit two people max. You pressed the buttons, and a weird mechanical voice made you jump.
At almost the same time, the curtain opened, and you were met with an elongated white mask with an absurdly long dark mouth and equally black eyes. You muffled a scream under your hand. You heard Joel’s familiar chuckle under the plastic mask.
“What the fuck, Joel!”
“Did I scare ya, darlin’?”
“Yes!”
But the more you looked at him, the more something strange stirred in you. Joel was an attractive man, you weren’t blind. But the familiarity of seeing his flannel-covered chest and broad shoulders mixed with the foreignness of the mask on his face made you feel… aroused.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
“Fuck it.” You mumbled and pulled Joel in the cabin. “Sit down.”
It was a tight fit, but curious, Joel obeyed. His spread thighs were taking up the whole space as you kneeled in front of him.
“Keep it on, please.”
His rough hand grabbed the base of your neck and the menacing black holes looked down at you as he tutted. “S’enough orders, honey don’t ya think?”
“S-Sorry.”
“Good.”
You looked down at his gun hidden in his holder as he took his pocketknife in his hand, using the pointy end to keep your chin up. “You gonna listen to me now?”
“Yes sir.”
Joel’s free hand undid his leather belt and you watched in wonder as he freed his strained cock. His hand circled its girth, pumping it a few times.
“Ya want it?”
You let out a desperate noise and with a dark laugh, he freed you, letting you go wild. You wrapped your mouth around his aching cock, tasting the headiness and saltiness of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. You kept your eyes strained on his masked face, a mixture of arousal and fear pooling in your panties. You shut your thighs together, desperately trying to gain some friction as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, giving him your best performance. You could hear his muffled grunts under the mask and feel his body tensing, the knife long abandoned on the floor.
“You wan’ more of that cock, yeah?” He grabbed the base of your neck to pull you away, watching as a mixture of spit and pre-cum escaped your lips. You nodded dumbly and let him pull you up, before stripping off your pants and panties.
“Mask kink, huh?” He observed as two of his thick fingers collected some of the wetness on your slit. “Didn’t know ya were such a dirty lil’ girl.” Joel’s calloused digits circled your clit at a practiced pace, and you fell against him, made limp by pleasure.
“Please Joel, can I have it?” You asked between moans.
“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” There was a hint of sweetness in his voice, despite him treating you so roughly minutes ago.
“I can take it!” You whined.
“Yeah? Then don’t ya fuckin’ whine if it hurts, baby.”
You straddled his hips. “I won’t.” You promised.
His big hands held your hips as he let you sink down on his cock, slowly.
“Look at me.”
Your gaze fixated on the white face and black holes that replaced his eyes, your mouth parting slightly as you let him stretch your walls, molding your body to his girth.
“Good girl.” He grumbled while he bottomed out. “Now stay still and le’me fuck ya.”
Joel’s hips moved at a painfully fast pace, letting you no time to adjust. Pain and pleasure melted together in your core and if you weren’t worried about getting killed by strangers in an abandoned mall, you’d scream.
“J-Joel… C-Can I see your face now?”
He slowed his hip thrusts. “Thought you didn’t wanna see it, huh?” He let go of your hips with one of his hands and slipped the mask off, letting it fall on the bottom of the cabin.
“I-I wanna see how y-you look at me while you fuck me, Joel.”
He grabbed onto your hips again and his dark gaze held yours as he thrusted up roughly, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that made you see stars. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you held your gaze to his honeyed brown orbs, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your orgasm was destructive, and his was equally as intense as he stilled inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls.
You fell limply against him, and your mouth slotted onto his, tasting Joel’s new familiarity.
“We might not have found much, but I want to keep the mask.” You chuckled against his lips.
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x yn#joel miller x y/n#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x f reader
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