#there is a slight but noticeable difference
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special smokes [weedrry]
summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party.
word count: 3,774
warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking
a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3
//
They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.
Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.
And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it.
It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest.
She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with.
Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time.
His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him.
Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.
If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her.
She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.
Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can.
“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”
The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor.
Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.
Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something.
“Anybody got a smoke?”
“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.”
Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.”
Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint.
But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her.
When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him.
Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins.
Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N.
Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on.
There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him.
But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek.
Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her.
“I have an idea to make this more interesting.”
She looks at him, eyebrow raised.
“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”
Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.”
Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.”
Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him.
Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart.
They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.
There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game.
It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be.
Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere.
It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?”
He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement.
“You’s got me a present?”
Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth.
Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head.
“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?”
Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.”
Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied.
He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress.
She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans.
Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth.
She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks.
“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever.
He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.
Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees.
“I want to taste you.”
Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.
Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it.
She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin.
“Fuck my throat.”
Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair.
If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t.
Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum.
Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her.
It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock.
“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”
The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure.
It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense.
It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker.
He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath.
He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress.
Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles.
“Harry, please.”
She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now.
“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says.
She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.
“Next time.”
Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it.
Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care.
With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole.
A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her.
It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.”
She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight.
“Good girl, angel.”
Smack!
His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more.
Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers.
She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time.
“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.”
“It’s yours! I’m yours!”
Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk.
His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too.
Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!”
Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot.
Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes.
“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.”
He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady.
It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests.
It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her.
Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face.
Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her.
She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.”
Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it.
He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket.
Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one.
It’s the least of his concerns, though.
Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down.
All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them.
What the hell have they gotten themselves into?
//
let me know what you thought :)
tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#imagine harry styles#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic#harry styles angst
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ANT!FRAGILE – 최산
synopsis . in which you pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.
pairing . choi san & fem!reader
genre . smut (mdni!) fluff at the end, comfort, established relationship, idol!au, and a poor attempt of comedy.
taglist . @bro-atz | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡
word count . 3,1k
DISCLAIMER! unprotected sex (wrap before tap!), bath sex, slight degradation? (reader’s referred as “dumb girl” once), dirty talk, softdom!san, sub!reader, dacryphilia?, slight overstimulation, hickeys, size difference, bulge kink, cow girl position, petnames (princess, love, darling & more), teasing, squirt, suggestive language (yn tells wooyoung to kill himself, jokingly! they’re two very friendly friends ;)), coachella san (as a warning itself, yes).
NIC’S NOTES . this took way too long for no reason at all (￣ヘ￣;) but here it is! my brain rot of coachella san (ofc with teeth rotting fluff at the end bc i’m the one writing it) also, lowercase is intentional! (again, to lazy to write it properly;;)
you should’ve seen it coming after you found out that your boyfriend, san, would be performing at an event as important as coachella. not that you were complaining though.
you knew how much your boyfriend loves attention, how much it turned him on to hear the fans scream for him, and how the cameras adjust their lens to zoom in on his face or his toned muscles from dancing and moving from side to side. there were constant conversations in which san would ask you “should i wear this?”, “if i unbutton a couple of buttons will i get a reaction from atiny?” of course, you’d tell him dismissively that no matter what he does, he’d always get a reaction from everyone, from you especially.
but taking off his shirt in the middle of a concert? really?
you had already seen him without clothes on the upper part of his body, of course, —and also without clothes down there, but let’s omit details—. the thing here’s that you knew how cautious he was with his clothing, always trying to cover what was most important. but this surprised you, and immensely.
it is, in fact, a sight for sore eyes. but a certain level of jealousy invaded your body; you liked to think that you were the only one with the privilege of seeing his well-worked body. but now millions of people and locals would have photos and videos of your shirtless boyfriend on stage. you definitely couldn’t accept it, even though the entire internet already knows exactly what ateez’s choi san looks like underneath the expensive fabric that covers him at concerts.
you were fully aware that this was his job, and that he was paid for it, but did it really have to be him? why not any other member? maybe seonghwa? or mingi! what about him? he also has a pretty active and... desperate fanbase. it was obvious that more than one fan would pay to get, at least, a glimpse of his abs. so, with so many options, why was your boyfriend the exposed person?
but of course you couldn’t show up in his dressing room with a jealous expression clearly decorating your face, you had to act like the sweet and tender girlfriend you were and put jealousy aside for a moment. your boyfriend had just finished performing on a dream stage for any artist, you couldn’t ruin his night because of a little scene.
you weren’t a jealous or toxic lover; you were a conservative one. you liked knowing that you were special to san and you expected exclusivity from him; consequently, he would receive the same treatment. but you should’ve expected it when you started dating choi san. he’s an idol and that's his job: to cause, in any way, the attention of the fans which, consequently, would keep them afloat or flying through the charts.
but, that was an indelible feature of yours. therefore, in some way, you would make it noticeable.
you hit your knuckles a few times, with moderate intensity, against the modern metallic door decorated by a gold star that highlighted your boyfriend’s band name. you watched as the handle turned slightly and opened the door wide, managing to discover wooyoung with a foaming glass of champagne that found its rest in the palm of her hand. behind his figure, you could see mingi sitting on a noticeably comfortable leather couch next to yunho, both of them clinking their glasses together with a clink; yeosang and seonghwa taking a selfie in the mirror and jongho and hongjoong talking animatedly, perhaps about the upcoming scenarios you thought.
“what the hell are you doing here?” wooyoung said, looking at you confusingly. you narrowed your eyes slightly at his quick lack of courtesy.
“good night to you too, wooyoung. you were incredible out there.” you replied sarcastically, hoping he would finally greet you properly.
“oh thank you so much. but seriously, what are you doing here?” he asked once again.
“what do you mean what am i doing here? i came to congratulate y’all for the show because you totally killed it. all the atiny around me went absolutely feral because of you guys.” you praised, and wooyoung grinned nicely. jongho and hongjoong came up behind him, intrusively joining the conversation.
“well thank you very much, yn.” jongho responded and you gave him your purest smile, truly meaning your words.
“but i also came here to congratulate my boyfriend personally?” you interrogated since his figure wasn’t appearing in your visual field.
“that’s why i was asking! damn, you really don’t listen." wooyoung sentenced, his gaze being comparable to that of a mother scolding her daughter. “as soon as the concert was over, he changed and went to the hotel to see you. he thought you’d be there.”
“but i don’t have a ride home, and my phone died” you explained, doe-eyed as you waited for wooyoung, or any of the boys, to take the hint and quickly take you to the hotel to your boyfriend.
“you could just ask for it, you know?” wooyoung tsked, but finally surrendered to your big, brown eyes with a sigh. “give me two seconds to look for the car keys. i’ll take you there.”
and that’s what he did as fast as lighting since he knew they’d only have that night all for themselves before flying back out to korea. the next day would be full of promotion of their songs to the locals and their stage in coachella, so san wouldn’t be able to even spend a bit of his day with you.
during the ride to the hotel, wooyoung spoke, “hey just don’t tire him out since we have quite the amount of work to do tomorrow.”
“you know, you could say something like ‘have a nice time together’, ‘take care of him’, ‘call me if you need anything-” before you could continue, he interrupted you briskly.
“oh hell no. the both of you are responsible adults who know how to take care of themselves without someone else’s help so don’t even try to bother me tonight because i’m exhausted as shit.” he confessed, hands adjusting their position on the steering wheel when cornering.
“oh so now you’re saying i’m a burden?” you asked ironically, knowing wooyoung would catch it was only a joke.
“oh you do know how to think!” he smiled looking away from the road for a bit to lock gazes with you. wrinkles decorated the corner of your eyes as you closed them a little.
“go kill yourself.” you huffed.
“shut up, you love me,” his puckering lips sent a flying kiss to you. he stopped his words briefly, “actually you kind of have to, since i’m taking you with your beloved boyfriend.”
“touché” you agreed.
the ride to the hotel was quick and calm since you were talking and joking animatedly with wooyoung. and when you least expected it, the car stopped moving. consequently, you turned to look out through your window, yellow lights, and gold decorations hurting your eyes with how beaming they looked, even when it was one in the morning.
“here we are.” wooyoung turned to look at you, his sincere eyes transmitting warmth, “remember what i told you-”
“yeah, i got it mom,” you answered, rolling your eyes vexingly. the man gave you an annoying gaze, so you replied, “what? you’re acting as if you were my mother! chill out, for fuck’s sake. as you said, both of us are responsible adults who know how to take care of ourselves.” you used his own words as a weapon to defend yourself against his exaggerated concern.
“whatever. just go,” he unlocked the car’s door so you could get out of the car once you finished your little conversation. “he’s been a pain in the ass lately because he hasn’t had time to see you.”
“imma get going then,” your hand approached the car door handle and finally opened it and got out of the vehicle. “thank you, woo. i owe you one.”
“you owe me way too many to count ’em” wooyoung wheezed. “but yeah, we’ll add it to the list.” he gave you one final smile, which you reciprocated sweetly.
you finally closed the door and watched wooyoung make his way back to where coachella was taking place, he’d probably go to enjoy the rest of the night’s stages with his members. you genuinely wished for him to do well and arrive with the boys safely, but now you had something more important to do: pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.
after you saw wooyoung getting lost on the dark LA highway, you turned around and ran towards the hotel to get into the elevator and quickly dial the floor of your boyfriend’s room.
once there, before your brain could think about it, your legs moved on their own and guided you recklessly toward the door. you hit your knuckles against it a few times, but there was no response.
“sannie? it’s yn. are you there?” you mutter softly against the door frame. another moment of silence came in response.
remembering your boyfriend had given you the key card, you pulled it out of your coat and faced it against the handle. after a soft peep sounded, you opened the door. just to be greeted with a dim-lighted room.
you wandered around the room, looking carefully at the floor so as not to bump your feet against any furniture or step on any item of clothing that, perhaps in a hurry, had been forgotten on the carpeted floor. you kept repeating your boyfriend’s name until the silence stunned you. the dazzling city lights illuminating what the poor little lamp that rested on the nightstand could not illuminate.
suddenly everything went silent. until you heard, in the back of your head, a faded tune. you quickly recognized the melody and started humming the song, the lyrics of the weeknd’s starboy being the only thing you could think about.
once again, you knocked a few times on the door, this time receiving a response from the other side. a dull “who is it?” was heard. “it’s me, love. yn.” you replied.
“oh, babe! come in!” he said happily, you could imagine the adorable smile drawn on his lips.
you turned the handle gently. and lord, didn’t the scenery you were greeted with turned you on.
your boyfriend’s toned body resting on the bathtub, lavender-scented bubbles covering most of it, his nipples being exposed to the fresh bathroom air that would soon turn into a heavier one, and his arms resting on each side of the tub. a serene, yet excited, expression decorating your boyfriend’s gaze.
“hi, beautiful,” he welcomed you. his eyes becoming crescent moons due to the effect of his beaming smile.
“there they are, those beautiful eyes i love so much,” you mumbled, walking right next to him to caress his left cheek soothingly. “how’re you feeling, champ?”
“alive as fuck,” both of you giggled at his response, your loving gaze locking with his for a moment of comfortable silence. suddenly you felt his hand fondling yours.
“mind joining me here?” his sharp eyes turning darker than they already were as they looked at you. fortunately for your boyfriend, you were willing to give him the moon and the stars that night.
you still can’t explain how you ended up on top of san, the water covering up to your navels, while he moved his thumb masterfully over your clit and his fingers repeatedly entered your cunt. his phalanges stretched you deliciously, causing several moans and moans from you.
“is that the spot, sweetheart? you're shaking so much.” his voice was hoarse and deep as the ocean, causing dizziness to affect your common sense.
“y-yes, don’t stop, please- ahh! ngh...” you could barely answer.
“sorry, love.” he announced before stopping his movements, drawing a annoyed, pathetic whine from your swollen lips. before you could insult him, he spoke first. “’wanna feel your tight cunt cumming around me, pretty.” during his brief pause, a pitiful cry from you was heard. “will you let me?”
“yes!” you answered desperately, “y...yes, i’m all yours, sannie. use me.”
san let out deep groan, which resonated inside your ears and made your heart jump out of your ribcage for a second. you rapidly adjusted yourself so you could reach the height of his crotch and massage his veiny, prominent erection, then align it to your entrance.
“go down slowly, don’t want my pretty girl to break.” he expressed, his soft, low voice driving you insane. still, you looked at him with cocked eyebrows.
“break? hah. surely, coachella drove your ego up to the clouds.” your eyes stabbing daggers into his. his hands found a home on your hips, slightly drawing them down to insert his cock inside you. your hand landing on his bare chest stopping his every move.
“nah. it’s just that you’re kind of fragile after all.”
you knew he was messing with you, provoking you. if there was one thing he always reminded you of, it was how strong, determined, and passionate you were, and it was one of the many features that made him fall deeply in love with you.
“let’s see who’s the fragile one here” you went down without warning on his cock, surprisingly touching your cervix all at once. a moan was snatched from both of you. your shaking body began to move carefully up and down him.
“f-fuck, yn- mm,” you heard a strangled moan from your lover, his lower lip was caught in between his teeth.
“f-fragile? that’s y...your- ah! your shit ass cock.” you manage to respond, notoriously provoking him.
“i don’t think it’s a shit ass cock, beautiful- ngh.” he panted, “just look how full you are.” he held your hand delicately despite the momentary brutality and placed it over your belly, a small lump formed there, “full of me, and my shit ass cock.” san breathed, kissing your collarbone, leaving cute lovebites in it. “you cry and beg for it every single night, hun. what does that have to say about you, hm?” a pitiful whine left your lips, demonstrating san that you were truly incapable of formulating coherent words. you were just too fucked out.
“well, lemme tell you,” he continued. “you’re just a dumb girl who needs to be fucked by a big fucking cock, otherwise, you don’t stop whining.” he said profoundly, his voice stimulating all your senses at once as he absolutely ravished you. “isn’t that right, princess?”
“i- ah! sannie, pleeease.” you blubbered, your eyes shedding the most precious tears.
“i asked you a question, darling. and i expect you to answer.” he sentenced sternly, grabbing your jaw and mushing your cheeks together. a pout was, therefore, formed on your lips.
“yes! yesyesyes, you’re right. i just need and think about being fucked by your big fucking cock-” you acknowledged, immersed and lost in the feeling, feeling like he was fucking you just like the first time.
“you’re such a cutie when you whine for me.” he chuckled while you, on the other hand, couldn’t hold back your screams anymore. his eyes stuck to your bouncing breasts, and your parted lips.
“what happened, princess? is it too much?” he cooed at you, looking at you adoringly, his eyes beaming at the sight of you.
“n-no,” you tried with all your might not to stumble over your words, but it was almost impossible since your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of your boyfriend's cock into your tight cunt.
“no? let’s see if it is now,”
your bastard boyfriend directed his hand toward your vagina, his ring finger and middle finger deliciously touched your clit. san watched as you exploded inside, his cock was bringing you closer to an abysmal orgasm that you doubted you could withstand, but you were a masochist, and despite all of this, you continued to go up and down on his cock sloppily.
“san! i’m s-so close- fuck!” your frowned eyebrows, reddened cheeks, swollen lips, and arched back made san float, he couldn’t worship you more than he already did at that moment. he was internally so grateful that you were his. only his to kiss, to hug, to fuck, and to adore.
you had had many guys behind you in the past, and they all promised the same thing: ‘i promise you the moon and the stars’, but absolutely none of them reached the level that choi san reached, who promised and delivered to make you see the stars, the moon and– fuck, he made you see the entire milky way every time you were with him.
“go on, babe. let it out for me, i got you,” he hid his face in the crook of your neck when you slowed down bouncing, and then he lifted it up. his lips brushed your neck, a position which he took advantage of to lick and suck on the side of it, adorning it with some nice and new hickeys next to the ones he did some moments ago.
san did everything he could to give you a good orgasm, a strong one, but pleasant. he loved seeing your expression as you had reached the peak of pleasure, a squirt erupted between your bodies, causing strangled moans to come from both mouths. your walls became tighter, squeezing out every drop of cum held in san’s hard cock. you felt how a strip of that viscous, white essence warmed your insides even more. the feeling even being comfortable in some kind of way.
“see? i didn’t break, idiot. hah,” you huffed out a sigh, looking at that beautiful face that you would never get tired of.
“mhm, you’re always so strong and beautiful. aren’t you, my love?” he reacted breathlessly as he stroked your cheek, as if it were the finest diamond.
“always, and only for you,” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at him foolishly in love.
you turned and felt stupid every time you were around this man, but what could you say? you weren’t complaining at all.
that man was capable of loving you in all your facets, in all your states and moments.
you were also grateful that choi san was yours, and solely yours.
“well, big boy,” you started, settling into his chest with him still inside you, keeping you warm, “i’m very proud of you and your achievements, love. you really brought home the trophy.”
“actually, you came here all by yourself.” he flirted, a cocky smile causing a giggle to ring inside your ribcage. “hm. thank you, princess. but the actual trophy is you and will always be you.”
you hid your face with your hands, splashing a little water unintentionally, “don’t start being all mushy, you softie. i’m gonna cry otherwise,”
he laughed, his voice causing your skin to vibrate lightly. “okay okay. wanna finally wash up?”
“can we just... stay like this? just for a bit,” you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth your boyfriend provided you.
“of course, princess. whatever you want,” he held you in his arms safely, making you sleepy. two minutes of silence filled with tranquility and love passed, until san started talking, “remember you’re always my trophy.” he muttered lowly with his honey-dripping voice.
“babe,”
“hm?”
“shut up.”
| masterlist
#hwallazia#ateez#ateez smut#choi san#choi san smut#san smut#san x reader#choi san x reader#san fanfic#choi san imagine#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic
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Change of Plans | Lia Wälti x Arsenal!Reader (18+) [Friday]
Summary: A teammate in need of a pick-me-up forces you to abandon the hookup date you had planned but leads to something more with a different teammate
Warnings: r is packing, bottom lia, top reader, strap use (lia receiving), oral (lia receiving) fingering (lia receiving), overstimulation, r calling lia ‘princess’
WC: 2.2k
Night After Night masterlist
You slipped your shoes on in a slight hurry before heading out the door to your car. You pulled your phone from your pocket to tell the woman you were meeting that you were leaving your place and would be there soon. You had a bit of a reputation for sleeping around, though it didn’t seem to bother you.
You slipped your phone back into the pocket of your sweatpants, you hadn’t made too much of an effort knowing your clothes would be on the floor most of the night. Just as you got comfortable in the driver’s seat, your phone dinged three times. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as to why your ‘date’ would be triple-texting you.
You pulled your phone out of your pocket once more and instead of your date’s number greeting you, it was a smaller group chat with a few of your teammates. You huffed slightly when you read Leah’s text asking for a movie night to help cheer her up. You wanted to be there for your friend but had someone waiting for you. You hesitated to respond because you knew the replies you would get from your teammates if you told no and why.
Before you could answer, everyone else had agreed and told Leah they would be there shortly. You cursed softly to yourself as you texted the woman that something come up last minute and you would have to reschedule. You texted the group chat you were on your way before tossing your phone into the passenger seat. You readjust yourself in the seat, forcing you to remember the strap on beneath your sweatpants.
You contemplated going back inside to change but you figured it wouldn’t be too noticeable. With a small sigh, you put the car in drive and headed the short distance to Leah’s place, ready to offer a comforting shoulder despite how needy you were feeling. You would just have to get through the movies before you could come home and take care of yourself.
You were the first to arrive at Leah's since you were already in the car when she texted. You waited outside her door for her to answer for a moment before the door swung open and an upset-looking Leah appeared. Seeing the blonde visibly sad instantly made you regret feeling upset at her initial text. You didn’t say anything as she let you inside and you pulled her into a small hug once the door closed.
You two weren’t alone long before Lia, Steph, Beth, and Viv arrived. The only person missing was Jen but due to her recent move to America, she’d have to miss out on movie night. After quick hugs, everyone made themselves comfortable with snacks in Leah’s living room. Lia was the last to take a seat and due to the lack of space, the midfielder was seated right next to you with little space between you.
“Is this alright, y/n/n,” Lia whispered when the movie started, her thigh resting very close to yours.
You nodded your head with a small smile as you tried to focus on the screen in front of you. With your still present desire and Lia being so close to you, your thoughts were elsewhere. You and Lia had a very back-and-forth relationship after her breakup with Caitlin. Neither of you wanted to make the first move but that didn’t stop your thoughts from racing every time she was near you.
Throughout the movie, you kept rearranging yourself and each time you moved, the toy between your legs bumped your clit. You lost focus on the movie entirely, your sole focus was controlling yourself. You were thankful when the movie was paused to get more snacks, taking the opportunity to go to the bathroom.
You groaned softly as you leaned against the sink, your breath heavy as you shook your head to rid your thoughts of your teammate. You turned the sink on and threw some water on your face, hoping it would help calm you down. You took a deep breath before opening the door, stopping in your tracks when you were face to face with Lia.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were out here,” your voice wavering slightly as you avoided her eyes.
“Are you okay,” the concern lacing her voice was evident as she stuck a hand out to hold your bicep.
You swallowed lightly at the feeling of her hands on your body and quicking nodded your head. You moved out of her way to let her into the bathroom so you could head back into the living room. Everyone waited while she was in the bathroom, small talk about the upcoming game filled the room.
When Lia returned, she took her seat next to you but this time her thigh was pressed tightly against yours. Your eyes dropped to her thigh as Beth hit play, though you didn’t care. Lia turned her head slightly when she felt you staring at her, sending you a small smile as she patted your thigh.
The midfielder’s hand froze when she felt the strap on resting beneath your pants. You locked eyes with her as both of your breathing picked up. Your eyes dropped slightly to her lips and you licked your at the thought of kissing her. A loud bang from the TV forced your attention off Lia, though your thoughts were still racing when she had yet to move her hand.
The movie seemed to drag on for ages before the end credits started rolling and you mentally cheered at the thought of going home. You stood from the couch, making a lame excuse for not staying for more than one movie, and quickly hugged your teammates. When your arms wrapped around Lia, your breath hitched when she placed a small kiss on the side of your neck.
You yelled one last goodnight before stepping out the door, the cold London air hitting your face. You stood there for a moment before slowly starting to your car and before you could open your car door, Leah’s front door opened again. You watched Lia make her way toward you, a smile on her face as she did so.
“You’re not staying,” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, your eyes falling to her lips once more when she was close to you.
“Figured you needed the company,” Lia teased as she stepped close to you, your faces inches from each other.
Lia leaned in first, her lips brushing yours lightly before you wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her as close as possible. Your lips easily dominated hers, Lia moaning into the kiss as she held your arm tightly. “My place,” you asked when you broke the kiss, though you moved to place light kisses along her jaw.
“I’ll um.. I’ll meet you there,” she nodded, gulping as you moved down her neck, sucking lightly.
You pulled back with a small nod, letting go of her waist and watching as she headed to her car. You quickly hopped in your car, not wanting to wait another second. You made it back to your place in record time and Lia wasn’t far behind you. You offered her a hand once she was out of her car and next to you, pulling her to your door.
You quickly unlocked your door and pushed it open, pulling Lia through the threshold with you. You closed the door with your foot, dropping your keys by the table by your door and kicking your shoes off. Lia followed your actions and as soon as her shoes were off, her back was pressed against your door. Her hand tangled in your hair as your lips met hers once more, your hands gripping her waist tightly.
You stayed in your spot for a moment as your lips fought each other, hands running over Lia’s body and pulling at her clothes. With your lips still locked, you guided her toward your bedroom, your hands pulling her shirt from her body as you moved. By the time you made it to your bedroom, both of you were without your shirts.
You pulled your lips away from Lia’s to remove her bra, throwing it to the floor aimlessly. Your eyes drop to her bare chest, leaning down to place a light kiss in between her breasts. Your hands dropped to the drawstring of the shorts she was wearing, pulling them loose and pushing them and her underwear down her legs. Your eyes scanned her bare body, licking your lips as you took in every inch of her body.
You moved her toward your bed letting her lay down as you stripped your remaining clothes. Lia’s eyes fell to the strap between your legs, her thighs clenching as she felt herself grow wetter. You ran a hand from her calf to her thighs, pushing her legs open for you to lay between them. You placed kisses along her pelvic bone and the inside one of her thighs, earning a quiet moan from Lia.
You placed small kisses near her clit before kissing the sensitive bud softly. Lia’s thighs tried to close around you but you pushed one of her legs out to spread her out even more. A small whine of your name followed by ‘fuck’’ fell from her lips as her hips bucked up for more.
You could feel yourself growing wetter as you licked through her dripping folds, your nose hitting her clit as you licked up. You hook your hands around her thighs as you push closer to her, Lia’s back arching off the mattress as her eyes fall shut. Lia could feel herself close to coming, her hands tangling in your hair as she bucked her hips to meet the thrust of your tongue.
With a loud moan, Lia’s back arched off the bed as she let go, coming all over your mouth. You kept your movements going, bringing her close to a second orgasm before pulling away before she could cum again. You kissed up her body before your lips met hers, Lia moaning at the taste of herself on your lips. While your lips moved against each other, you moved a hand to grab the toy between your legs, lining it up with Lia’s cunt.
Lia pulled away from the kiss as her head fell back against your pillows when you pushed the strap on into her. You moved your arms to rest on either side of her head as she wrapped a leg around your waist. You moved your lips to her neck, sucking harshly to leave hickies along her skin. The midfielder arched her back once more, her chest hitting yours as you roughly fucked her.
Lia moved her hands to your back, her nails leaving indents from how tightly she was holding onto you. She was already close to a second orgasm so it didn’t take long for her to cum again. Your name fell from her lips in a broken chant mixed with her begging you to not stop.
“You’re taking me so well, princess,” you mumbled against her skin after a rough thrust. Lia whined at the praise, her eyes screwing shut as she let go once more.
You didn’t slow your hips as you fucked her, helping through her high while also bringing her closer to a third. You propped your hands next to her head as you snapped your hips, the base of the strap on offering you some relief as you fucked her. Your hips stuttered as you felt yourself close to the edge but you kept fucking her, wanting to make her cum as many times as you could.
“I’m gonna cum,” she whined as you thrust into her, her nails digging into your skin as she held you close.
“Cum for me princess,” you grunted, your own orgasm hitting you as you drilled into her.
Lia came for the third time, her loud moans echoing off your bedroom walls. You panted above her as you calmed down from your orgasm, swallowing lightly as you caught your breath. You pulled the strap on out of her, a small whimper falling from her lips at the loss of contact.
You traced a hand down her torso, your fingers running through her soaked folds. “One more, princess,” you smirked, your fingers easily pushing into her. Lia whined softly, tears pricking her eyes from the immense amount of pleasure she was receiving.
You pumped your fingers into her quickly, easily making her cum for the fourth time that evening. You pulled your fingers out of her, bringing them to your mouth to suck them clean as Lia lay beneath you with a fucked out expression gracing her face.
“You did so well, princess,” you cooed softly as you placed soft kisses all over her face. Lia whimpered softly at your praise, her mind foggy from how well you fucked her.
You removed the strap on from your hips, tossing it to the floor to be dealt with in the morning. “Get some rest,” you whispered against her hairline as she curled into you.
“What about you,” she sighed tiredly, exhaustion hitting her hard.
“Next time,” you whispered as her breathing evened out as sleep took over.
You two would have to talk about what this meant for the two of you but for now, you were content to just hold her as she slept. Your evening might not have gone how you originally planned but you were grateful you had to cancel on your date.
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ㅤㅤ♡⃕ ﹙"slut!", jude bellingham.﹚
A/N Jude is my newest obsession, so yeah. Expect to see a lot of content on my page about him.
PAIRING Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader
TW/TAGS Established relationship, use of the word "slut", slight angst, fluff. ENGLISH'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.
SUMMARY Even if everyone was against your relationship with Jude, he would still choose you and you would still choose him.
SONG "Slut!" by Taylor Swift.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN | JUDE'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST
Jude was the internet's boyfriend these days, and you knew it perfectly well.
And you also knew that the moment you started dating him, many people would like the idea of it and others not so much.
And you were worried about what those people said, of course you were. You got lost overthinking the situation but then Jude hugged you and it was as if everything disappeared, only the two of you existed in your little love nest.
"What's in that pretty little mind of yours, hmm?" He questioned, kissing your forehead, brushing one of your strands of hair behind your ear.
"It's nothing, honey." You denied, burying your face in his chest, losing yourself in the feeling of his embrace and he didn't press any further. He placed a kiss on your forehead again and rested his head on yours.
That night you both decided to go out to a club with some of his friends, you agreed to go with him because after all you needed to clear your mind from social media.
While there, both of you danced, drank and laughed with each other.
"I need to go to the bathroom." You warned Jude, giving him a peck on the lips and he nodded, giving you another.
"Okay, I'll wait here."
You hummed in affirmation and walked towards the women's bathroom to do whatever you needed.
When you were washing your hands, a black-haired girl came out of the bathroom and although you didn't give it much importance, you noticed her mocking smile when she noticed your presence.
"Slut." She murmured as she passed behind you, leaving the bathroom.
You stopped your actions in your tracks and analyzed her words.
"She just...?" You muttered to yourself, laughing in disbelief.
You dried your hands and left the bathroom, but your heart jumped a little when you saw the same girl next to your boyfriend. She seemed to be a fan because they were taking a photo.
You took a deep breath and walked towards them.
Jude's eyes lit up when he noticed you and he offered you one of his hands so that you could approach him.
"I missed you." He murmured, kissing your forehead. It was something he did often because he knew you liked it.
"Me too." Your gaze was still on the black-haired woman who looked at you up and down with the same mockery as before and left.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Yes, vodka. Double." You asked, sitting next to him and he took care of getting you the drink.
The hours passed and the more they did, the more you drank to the point that you couldn't even stand without the risk of falling.
"Oh shit." You murmured between giggles as you left the club with Jude holding your waist firmly.
"Come on, this way, pretty girl." He guided you to his car and helped you get into the passenger seat.
The whole way to his apartment you were silent. The nickname the woman had called you echoed in your mind and the contemptuous way she looked at you.
Upon arrival, he once again helped you out of the car and into the house.
Closing the door, he picked you up bridal style and you giggled, resting your head on his chest, your fingers playing with one of the buttons on his shirt.
"I'm a lucky girl, right?" You murmured as he sat you down on the bathroom sink counter.
"I'm the lucky one, love."
He rummaged through your things for makeup removal supplies and you hummed, thinking about your response.
"Nah, I don't think so." you looked anywhere else but at him as he walked over and stood between your legs.
He frowned and tried to meet your gaze.
"y/n, you've been different since you came back from the bathroom, did something happen?"
You looked at him sideways, embarrassed to say your thoughts out loud but you did.
"Do you think I'm a slut?" You murmured thoughtfully.
"Wha...?"
"I mean, I know it sounds bad, but, I don't know," you brushed a strand of your hair that Jude always tucked behind your ear and continued talking. "A woman called me a slut today," you glanced at him again and played with your hands. "The woman who approached you about the photo."
"Babe..."
"Everyone loves you, that was my crime." You laughed ironically. "And if they call me a 'slut' it'll be worth it, I guess."
"Listen to me." He cupped your face by your cheeks and made you look into his eyes. "You are not what they say you are, you are the girl of my dreams." He made small circles with his thumbs on the apple of your cheekbones and you looked at him carefully. "You are beautiful, the purest soul I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, you are everything I need and if my 'fans' don't understand it then screw them, I'm not going to stop loving you because they don't like the idea of it. I won't, I'm in love with you."
You smiled and pressed your forehead to his, affectionately brushing your nose with his.
"Suddenly I stopped being drunk."
You both laughed at the occurrence and you kissed his lips lovingly.
"I'm in love with you, too."
disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.
#── 𝐕al write. ♡̷ ·˚#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x y/n#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham imagines#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham angst#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham x you
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could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐
mad at you | l.mk
“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”
💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we
❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.
❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex
❯ words: 4.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.
an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.
The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.
But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.
You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.
So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.
He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.
He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.
The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.
“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”
You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.
“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”
You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”
"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."
Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.
“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”
“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”
“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”
“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”
You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.
“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.
“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”
“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.
Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.
“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”
You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.
“Oh, so you want to break up?”
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”
The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.
Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.
Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.
“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”
“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.
Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.
He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.
After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.
It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.
Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.
As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.
You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.
The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.
However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.
“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.
You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”
Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.
His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.
"I thought you left..."
Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.
“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.
You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.
He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”
His kindness only amplifies your guilt.
"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."
Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."
"No—"
He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."
Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.
"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."
"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"
Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"
His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.
"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."
You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”
You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.
Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.
His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.
Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.
You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.
He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.
“‘s okay,” you whimper.
Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.
He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.
And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.
“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”
You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.
“Mark…”
“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”
You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.
And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.
As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.
You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”
He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.
Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.
The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.
You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.
You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.
Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.
Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.
And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.
You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.
So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...
“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”
You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.
“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”
And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.
And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.
The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.
You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.
You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.
"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.
"I’m sorry," you say softly.
You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."
#🏷frompaige#mark lee smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#kpop smut#nct hard hours#nct oneshot
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Spoken For - CC
Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader
Summary: You and Caitlin may be a little too discreet when it comes to your relationship - Based on THIS request
Warnings: hidden relationship, slight angst
Word Count: 3.7k
Sweetbans Masterlist
AN: GAH this is such a cute idea - I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments.
You met Caitlin in middle school. Both of you played club basketball and were always at the same tournaments. Your teams faced off pretty often and you got to know how she played. It made it even more interesting when your coach had you guard her frequently - learning how she was almost unstoppable. The two of you talked here and there, mostly about basketball whenever you did see each other and were in a space where conversation was required.
It wasn't until eighth grade that things sort of took a turn. It was at a tournament that both of your teams had to travel to. When you got there, your team went to watch Caitlin's play - seeing how they were doing before you had to take them on yourselves.
While you were watching them - you noticed Caitlin looking over at you semi-frequently. At first, you thought nothing of it, but as she kept doing it you started to give her little nods. When the game ended and they were dismissed for a rest break, you saw her walk up in your direction.
"Hey CC," you say as you greet her.
She comes up and gives you a half hug - something that wasn’t super common for the two of you.
“You ready to go down?” She says with a little smirk and gets up in your space.
“In your dreams,” you say with a laugh and give her shoulder a little push. “I think the question is, can you put up with losing to me again?” You say as you stare her down - not willing to be the first to step down from a verbal smackdown.
The last time your two teams went up against each other it was absolute carnage. There were times when both of your coaches had to pull you from the game to not get ejected by the refs. Each of your coaches knows how competitive each of you is - knowing losing is not an option. But to you and Caitlin, it was genuinely all fun. It was rare to have someone be as competitive as the two of you and when you face off - it is one of the most captivating games to watch.
“The only reason your team won last time was because Coach pulled me in the last quarter so he wouldn't lose me for the rest of the tournament. You won't be as lucky this time," she says and you just shake your head with a little laugh. Both of your teams are now moving on to their next destinations. She begins to walk past you but doesn't leave without saying, "Plus, my dreams about you are much different." You question if you heard her right, you look up at her and start to feel the blush creep into your cheeks. She gives you a wink as she follows her team, leaving you there flustered.
The rest of that tournament is filled with stolen glances and a little too-aggressive plays. Nothing to get either of you tossed from the game but enough to keep the two of your bodies close enough to keep the electricity running through your veins. Playing against her this time was different. She never went easy on you but there was a different energy that both of you were aware of. It didn't help that you couldn't get what she said out of your head. Was she just messing around and making a joke or was there more behind what she said?
In your final game against her team, you noticed there was a bigger shift in your relationship with Caitlin. During the second quarter, you got fouled pretty bad by a girl on her team and you fell, getting the wind knocked out of you. It took you a second before you were able to get up - you waved off your coach and really anyone who was trying to help you up. You just needed a second to refill your lungs. Once you were back, Cait pushed her way through your team and was the one who insisted on helping you up once you were ready. She grabbed your hand to help you up and then patted you on the shoulder, making sure you were alright. You give her a nod and the game continues. Throughout the rest of the game, Caitlin would keep brushing your hand. At first, you didn't think much of it as it happens often when you are playing defense. But kept happening. And then it changed. After you have been on her defense and she just put up a three. The crowd cheered and you both headed back, you running to offense and her to defense when you feel it. Your hands touch briefly and when they do, her pinky hooks with yours - only for a second, but long enough to know that it happened.
The two of you started talking outside of seeing each other at tournaments. It began with texting about basketball or sending each other the occasional snap of each of you dying after practice, saying something along the lines of the other going down. Before you knew it, you two were texting or talking every day and some days even all day.
You found out that the two of you had a lot in common outside of basketball. Granted, a lot of the time you talked, it was about basketball.
It was a few weeks before summer that the two of you found out you would be going to the same high school, meaning you would be playing on the same team for the first time in either of your basketball careers. It was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.
During your high school years, you grow close to Caitlin. The two of you become best friends on the first day of freshman year. It wasn't surprising to you since you spent the better half of the last 6 months talking nonstop. When practices started, the two of you became inseparable. From then on, you did everything together.
It was the summer before sophomore year that you two decided being friends wasn't enough. It happened on a random Tuesday night when you brought up that one tournament that was the starting point of your friendship. Caitlin came clean and told you she had been crushing on you hard since the tournament where you both almost got ejected in the same game. It was a total surprise to you but you would be lying to say you weren't feeling the same way. Except for you, it was the tournament where your hands kept touching.
The two of you established your relationship before heading into sophomore year. You decided it would be best to keep your relationship just between the two of you, not wanting it to interfere with the two of you being on the same team.
It was junior year when both of you were signed to play D1 basketball. Caitlin at the University of Iowa and you at UConn. It was both an exciting time and a sad one. Your schools weren't close at all but you both knew you didn't want to separate when you left - you were it for one another.
It was the winter break of your senior year when the two of you went to the courthouse. Both of your parents were there, along with Caitlin's brothers. It was at Thanksgiving that you told both of your parents you wanted to get married. They tried talking the two of you out of it but neither of you budged. Neither you nor Caitlin had any doubts that this wasn't what you wanted. The two of you knew you wanted to to spend the rest of your lives together - even if that meant being a part for a few years to live out both of your dreams. Even at the courthouse, your parents were still hesitant but they let the two of you get married.
The summer after senior year of high school held some of the best days and hardest days you have ever had. Caitlin and you were finally able to take a mini honeymoon to the East Coast, spending your days on the beach. Shortly after, you were both called off to your respective schools - going back to being competitors on the court instead of teammates. The goodbye was one of the hardest things you have ever had to endure, Caitlin as well.
Before you left, you both decided to keep your marriage just between the two of you. Neither of you wanted/needed the backlash of it going into this next chapter and you both knew the other was there regardless of the distance between you.
Starting college was a pretty easy transition for both of you - the hardest part was being away from one another. You talked daily, usually calling at night or early in the morning. And every break you had was spent at home with one another. Every school break, long weekend, and break in practice had you two visiting one another.
It wasn't until a certain practice that Caitlin started to question if keeping you to herself was going to be possible for much longer.
"Hey Caitlin, I have this friend who has had an eye out for you since the season started." One of her teammates mentions while they are stretching before a practice.
Caitlin laughs and says, "Okay...and?"
"I want to set you guys up on a date. Are you free this Friday?" She asks. The other girls around them encourage Cait to get out there. She has been the only person on the team who hasn't taken any interest in relationships.
"I am not going," Caitlin says. No explanation, no reason. Just a no.
"Why not? It could be really fun! It would benefit you to loosen up a little bit," her teammate says.
Just as Caitlin is about to respond, they are called to start drills.
Practice goes well, and they are feeling good about their upcoming game. The girls make their way to the locker room and are all packing up when the topic is brought up again.
"So...Friday," Cait's teammate brings it back around to get her out of the house on a Friday night.
"What about it?" Cait says with a little laugh.
"Will you go?" She asks. "On the blind date?"
"I am not going on a date on Friday," Caitlin says again. She grabs her back and is ready to head home for the night to call you. She thinks you will find it quite entertaining that her team is trying to get her to go out.
"Well just think about it and we can revisit the topic tomorrow."
Caitlin states again that she is not going but instead of fighting her teammate on it now, she would rather be at home talking to you.
On her walk home, she calls you.
"Hey babe," you say when you answer your phone, wedging it between your shoulder and your ear. Your hands preoccupied with folding laundry.
"Hi," she says and takes a deep sigh. "I miss you."
"I miss you." You respond and take your phone in your hand again. You are sitting on the floor of your apartment with two piles of laundry taunting you. You sit back, leaning against your couch, and bring your knees up to your chest. "I miss you more than you can imagine. What is it another 3 weeks before we get to see each other?"
"Not soon enough," Caitlin says, chest squeezing a little tighter hearing how much you miss her.
The two of you knew this was going to be hard, but it was so much harder than either of you imagined. Going from being with each other every day of the week to every other month, if you're lucky, has taken a toll on your marriage.
"I have sort of a funny story to tell you," Cait continues, nervous all of the sudden.
"And what is that babe?" You ask, hearing a shift in her tone. You think it is the cutest when she gets nervous around you. She never gets nervous around anyone.
"My teammates are trying to set me up on a date this Friday," she says, not knowing how you are going to react. You are a little shocked but also find it kind of comical. Not that Caitlin wasn't dateable, you knew first hand she was. It was the fact that she never showed any sort of interest in anyone but you.
"Sounds like junior year of high school all over again." You say with a little laugh.
Caitlin's memory takes her back to junior year when the team kept bugging her about turning down Sam Anderson's prom proposal.
"I completely forgot about that! The team wouldn't drop it!" Caitlin says, a smile on her face as she laughs about the old memory.
"Well duh they wouldn't drop it, he was the hottest guy in our class," you say with a little laugh of your own.
"Hey!" She says offended that you just called someone other than her hot.
"Babe, you know I am yours," you say full-on laughing now.
"I can't believe you just called Sam Anderson hot. I will never forget that," Cait says.
"Ya, ya, ya. I am more interested in who they are trying to set you up with on Friday," you say. No jealousy, just pure interest.
"I have no idea," Caitlin says with a little puff. "I just wish people would stay out of my love life, it is doing just fine."
This causes a little sink in your heart. You know everything is fine between the two of you. But the adjustment has you both feeling like a piece of you is missing.
"I know babe, but it is a sweet thing. Your team wants to see you happy and part of that is being with someone." You say, knowing there is nothing you could do to make this any better.
"I am happy! I am happily married! I have all that I need and I don't need anyone digging into that." She says frustrated.
"Hey, Caitlin it's okay baby," you say trying to calm her. "You don't have to go - just tell them that you are busy."
"They are just going to keep pushing, it was brought up three times in 2 hours. They aren't just going to drop it." Caitlin fights back.
"Then tell them you are married!" You say. This wasn't part of the plan but hearing how frustrated Cait was, your firs thought was to screw the plan.
"No, that's not part of the plan. It hasn't even been a full year! We are sticking to the plan and that's final!" Caitlin yells. She doesn't know why she is yelling.
"Then go on the date!" You yell back. Frustration now seeing out of you. You feel a tear make its way down your cheek.
Caitlin doesn't know what to say - never in a million years would she imagine hearing you say to go out with someone. Nobody came close to you in her eyes. That is when she realized how much this was all taking a toll on you. Not just in this instance but when it happened in high school. Whenever someone made a comment about how amazing Caitlin is and how she is going to make so many heads turn. All the talk was always about her and never about you.
"Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up," she says just above a whisper. Caitlin hates that she let this all get to her, so much so that it was her doing that had you sitting on your floor crying.
You sniffle and bring your hand to your head. You don't know what to say. You didn't mean it when you told her she should go on the date, it came out in frustration and you instantly regretted it.
"I know," you choke out. "Hey Cait, I need to go," you say still sniffling. "I need to finish some things before heading to bed."
"No wait, I don't want you to go in this state," she says in a little bit of a panic. "Just stay on the line with me and we can talk about something else - I don't want us to end today like this." It was a little last-ditch plea.
"I'm tired Cait, we can talk tomorrow. I love you," you say, tears streaming down your face.
Caitlin hates this.
"I love you," she says and hears you hang up.
You don't mean to be this curt with Caitlin. You have been under a lot of stress as of late between schoolwork and basketball and not having her with you kept you on constant edge. Talking to her every day has helped but you missed her presence, having her near. The calm that she brought you is one that you haven't felt since both of you went off to uni.
The next day rolls around and Caitlin's teammate texts her about setting her up. Caitlin ignores it and gets going with her day.
The two of you talk that morning - both apologizing for how the conversation the night before went. You both decide to take a quick weekend trip and meet in the middle for the weekend, knowing you both need time with each other, even it if is less than 48 hours.
Just knowing you are going to be in Caitlin's arms soon is enough to give you a push through the week.
Caitlin on the other hand is itching to see you. She begins to count down the hours until she is back with you.
When she arrives to practice, she jumps right in as if it will make time move faster.
During practice, the team takes a quick water break.
"Hey Caitlin, have you thought about Friday?" Her teammate asks. "I told them about you and they are looking forward to getting to know you."
"I told you I am not going," Caitlin says. Not this again. "Plus I am not going to be here this weekend."
"Okay well then Thursday would work," her teammate says clearly not dropping the topic.
"How many times do I have to tell you I am not going?" Caitlin says in disbelief that her team is pushing this so hard.
Another one of her teammates speaks up, "We just want to see you happy, you seem so tense all the time."
"Trust me, I am fine. I'll be better after this weekend," Caitlin says as she thinks about spending it with you.
"Just a few hours, it won't hurt anyone," they continue to pry.
Caitlin gets fed up with them all trying to force this on her when she has made it clear she is not going. Even if they got her to go on this date, she knew they wouldn't stop until she started seeing someone.
It is at this moment that the plan of you two waiting until after college to reveal your marriage flies out the window.
"I am not going on the date because I am not a cheater!" Caitlin practically yells and sits down. Everyone just looks at her with confusion.
Caitlin, with her face in her hands, brings something out from her shirt. It is the chain of her necklace. Everyone knew she wore a necklace but no one knew what was hanging at the end since it was always tucked away in her shirt. She finds the end and pulls out a ring. It is the ring you exchanged in the courtroom that one beautiful winter afternoon.
She takes out the ring and places it on her ring finger, which causes even more confused looks from all of those around her.
"I am not going on that date because I am married," she says and all the girls go crazy. All of them in unbelief of this plot twist their friend and teammate were holding from them.
They pull her up and start pushing her around in excitement that their friend is not only seeing someone but is MARRIED.
"This is actually insane!" One girl says. Caitlin hears things like 'There is no way', 'How has she kept it a secret for this long', and 'When were you married, we are so young'.
The one thing going through Caitlin's mind is how she is going to explain this to you. Her beloved plan - poof, gone just like that.
All the girls are too excited to get back to practice but somehow manage to get through it.
Before she knows it, Caitlin is on a plane heading to Colomub, OH. The two of you planned it so you would arrive within half an hour of each other. Her being the first to arrive.
When she lands, she checks the arrival board and begins to make her way to where your plan gets in. She walks up just as they open the door.
Your plane starts to de-board and you grab your overnight bag. As you make your way off the plane you look at your phone to see if there is any update from Caitlin. You have no notifications from her, just your coach about everyone's home workouts for the weekend.
As you get off the plane you begin to look around to see which way you need to go when you see your favorite person in the world, standing there, waiting for you.
You immediately run up to her and jump into her arms, dropping your bags in the process.
She squeezes you so tightly, that it is hard to breathe. Not that you care.
"Caitlin," you say as you inhale her scent. Missing her was an understatement.
"Hi baby," she says as she finally puts you down. You grab your bag and take her hand. When you look down at your fingers intertwined.
"Babe, you're wearing your ring!" You say in surprise.
"Well, I may or may not have told the team that I have a wife and have been married since high school..." she says hoping there would have been at least some time for them to just be together before she had to tell you that her plan is no longer the plan. She prepares for you to rip her a new one.
When you don't immediately react, she looks over at you.
You just squeeze her hand and lean into her.
"So much for your precious plan," you say with a little laugh as the two of you walk out of the airport.
AN: Thank you for this fun request! Let me know what you think! And as always, thanks for your love and support 🤍
#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark imagine#caitlin clark masterlist#caitlin clark concepts
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AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?
Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.
So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).
Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.
My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.
So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.
I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.
The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.
It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.
Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.
One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.
T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.
So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.
Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.
The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.
I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.
He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.
The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.
I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".
This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.
I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.
Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.
So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.
Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.
TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?
#aita#am i the asshole#suicide cw#not sure if it's needed for a dnd character death but just to be safe
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puppy love
puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3
chapter 2
cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization
about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture
and wish that it was me
i guess it's different 'cause you love him
but i've got an interactive
sick and twisted imagination
and that's gotta count for something
- not allowed (tv girl)
3.
you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.
your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.
you didn't blame yourself.
you couldn't blame yourself.
blame the love stories.
the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.
he could be the one.
true love's forever kiss.
you imagined it all.
movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.
all you had to do was get him to stick around.
you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.
you had to be perfect.
. . there was just one miniscule problem.
the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.
it's the way the two of you had met.
despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.
you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.
because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.
and he was just as quick to shut it down.
you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.
which meant they were at least acquaintances.
so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.
everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.
your boy was stupid.
your boy was shallow.
"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.
but warning you wasn’t enough.
your boy barely looked at you.
and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.
you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.
you'd see him coming.
he'd see you.
time would slow as you walked past him.
your heart rate would pick up.
but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.
all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.
the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.
he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.
but eventually, he would.
you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.
mark was vehemently against introducing you two.
you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.
whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.
it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.
thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.
you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.
and soon you became a master of disguise.
you studied them top to bottom.
those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.
you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.
. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.
it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.
his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.
and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.
it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.
the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.
you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.
specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.
whatever you did faded into the background.
it was all worth it in the end.
something was wrong with mark.
and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.
he was looking at you. . differently.
he talked to his dad.
nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.
he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.
she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.
mark didn't know who to believe.
he just wanted to stop thinking about you.
his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.
senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.
he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.
he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.
something was wrong with mark.
he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.
something was wrong with mark.
when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.
he could see more of you.
freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.
he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.
smooth. soft.
he'd held you, once.
when was the last time?
something was wrong with mark.
he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.
thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.
your little humming. . but not singing.
never singing.
mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.
that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.
the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.
about you.
i like your hair today.
light.
you talk so goddamn much.
dark.
i missed you.
light.
your stories take fucking forever.
dark.
something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.
if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.
something was wrong with mark.
when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -
something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.
when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.
something was wrong with mark.
. . or so he thought.
because he'd later find out. .
. . no.
something was wrong with you.
all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.
triple texting.
mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?
mark was the one seeking you out.
something was wrong with you.
and he needed to get to root of the problem.
he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.
you looked happy.
fucking elated.
to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.
mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.
why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.
and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.
mark had always been curious.
and so, he went to see you.
the two of you were in your room.
you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.
and mark started looking.
you were predictable.
he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.
it was easier that way.
he pretended he didn't know where it was.
you pretended to have some privacy.
he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.
of your thoughts.
thank fuck you were still so naive.
thank fuck for dairies.
he'd found it in a box under your bed.
and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.
you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go
thump.
thump.
thump.
#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#invincible#invincible x reader#yandere mark grayson#yandere mark grayson x reader#:)))#im going through a lil bit of crush rn myself#lil bit#little#small#tiny#so#you know it's unhinged#AND HIS NAME IS MARK TOO LMAOOOOO#anyway mark figures out he likes you#but like every teenage boy#he makes it your problem#he's gonna [REDACTED] that boy#loosely edited we die like men
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How Dangerously Beautiful [Peter Maximoff]
Fluff
You like collecting knives, and the first time Peter comes over, he's interested in the love you have for the maybe weapons.
Yet another Maximoff fic I'm not sorry. I am love Maximoff :3
No one's perspective
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶��︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
"We literally just got off the phone Maximoff!" You squealed as the front door was flung open. Nothing could ever make you used to the speedster's mutant powers. No matter how many times he sped himself over to you; outside, at his house, in your garden, at work... it always freaked you out a little. But a grin appeared as Maximoff stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
"well, you asked me to come over. And here I am, over." He breathed out, looking around, then speeding up the stairs. It made a sigh escape your tired body and rushed behind the speedster.
As Maximoff stood by a closed door, he pointed at it, almost quizzically. "Is this your room?"
"Well, do you see another closed doors that have a sign saying my name?"
"ah, yeah." He then just grinned at you and stepped in, immediately taking in the decorations and everything almost cluttering the walls. No mess Maximoff wasn't used to, but still looked around in slight confusion. "And here I thought you were the cleaner one in the relationship." A small chuckle escaped him as you just shrugged and stepped past the speedster.
Your eyes focused on the knife collection you owned with nerves. Sure people around the world liked making different things, selling and buying. But yours was an odd one, and it was the first thing on your mind while your silver-haired boyfriend explored your room. "Well...you know, I try to be." A deep breath when you started your sentence.
Just as soon as you let out a sigh, Peter noticed what you were staring at. He was entranced by the different coloured metals shining in the mid-day light. Entranced by the little details on the handles, and how they seemed to be crafted. "Woah man. These are...fuckin rad..." He whispered, fingernails lightly tracing one of the knives.
A gargled "no!" escaped you as you ran to stand in front of Maximoff. It was useless, he always stood taller than you. "Don't. Don't, touch them." Your voice came out as a shaky whisper rather than a loud and confident command.
"why not?"
"they're precious!!"
"You're precious but I touch you all the time all over."
"oh shut up." Gritted teeth but a blush at his off-handed flirt. Something you were used to, but in a situation like this it overrided your mind. "Just...be careful. Please?"
"Always am babe don't sweat." Another little grin as Maximoff picked up your favourite knife, by complete coincidence. It was a wine red on the handle, covered with little black designs. A spider on the end, a cliché broken heart on the same middle spot on both sides. Little lines and dots around here, there, over and around. Sharpened recently by the looks of it. The blade was dusty looking; the wine red covered in a deep dusk top, perhaps to save the sharpened edge that was new and shiny.
Peter was in love with it. He looked at it like he looked at you whilst you were on top, eyes full of stars...wonder, and just pure amazement. "This is... beautiful.." a small voice coming out of the usually loud and energetic man. As a response you kissed his cheek, staring at your most priceless collectable with the same wonder.
"It's my favourite one, and custom-made. My cousin had it made for me last year on my birthday." It was a bit of random information but probably the only good response you had at that minute. Another little kiss on his cheek as Maximoff placed the knife back in its holder.
"All of these are so pretty. Just like you." Grabbing you by the side and pulling you before him, admiring the small collection. Reds, greens, blues, all shades and colours. They almost sparkled in Peter's eyes as you looked up to him as best you could. "I mean, why knives though babe? They're dangeroussss!" A little singsongy voice, knowing you knew the dangers of having potential weapons such as these.
Small shrug as you wrapped your hands around Maximoff's arms. "I know they're dangerous. But I just, look at them. They're wonderful..."
A small chuckle as kisses were placed around the sides of your face. "Again, beautiful like you. They suit you and I think, you should get a full silver one. Just pure silver."
"what for you?"
"Absolutely!" Both of you laughed to yourselves, just admiring the wall of coloured metal in front of you.
"not a totally stupid idea...I'll think about it."
"you should." Another little laugh as another little set of kisses were peppered over your face.
⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷
Tag: @silverzoomies @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @coentinim @nahoyasboyfriend @newwavesylviaplath @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @slvt4jamesmarch @bluerthanvelvet444 @briaroftheroses
#x men#Peter Maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#x reader#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x you#evan peters#evan peters x reader#evan peters x you#fluff#x reader fluff#x men imagine#x men fic#quicksilver#tmi Duckie
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Ahhh asking again!!!! I love and laugh about Joel and Preggo. What if she wants Joel to prepare the nursery? They go to pick out paint ….she says needs to see it in the room, he paints sample areas. ……she picks one, he paints it and then she cries because she hates it and accuses him of doing the wrong color. Please change this prompt anyway and every way! Basically about preparing nursery to her whims. Or he does everything and she has changed her mind.!!!!
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife - Oh the Colors You'll Choose
Warnings: girlie is up to her usual tactics, slight Jealous!Joel at the end
- - - -
One thing Joel’s really excited about with the baby on the way is getting to design the nursery. Finally having an excuse to throw away your old high school gear you haven’t touched in over a decade, the clothes that had no style in the modern era, collecting dust in bins, all the Christmas gifts you never were going to use just stocked up in the spare bedroom for storage. Now the room was vacant. Tarps and old sheet cover the carpet, walls primed and prepped for the first round of paint.
Joel picks out a nice pink neutral tone, something perfectly lovely for the little girl he’s about to have.
You barely glance at the swatch in his hand, just nodding and waving him off as you lie sprawled eagle in bed, trying your best to cool underneath the high speeding fan.
He’s spent the entire afternoon of your nap getting the room partially painted. The whole time, giddy with the idea that he’s going to be changing diapers in here, reading stories, cradling his baby’s soft small head and walking around the room to get her to sleep—
He finally notices you patting gently into the room, just awoken from your fresh nap. He’s halfway to an excited smile until he sees the absolute wrought look of disappointment all over your face.
"What, what's wrong?"
There’s no hint of happiness or enthusiasm in you. You survey the walls disappointingly, crossing your arms with a disgusted look before walking out without a word.
Joel’s not going to let this room be the thing that upsets you—no you’re going to love it, he’ll be damned sure.
He shows you 5 more colors—all ranging from pinks to purples and—
“Does it have to be pink? Why are we forcing the gender thing on her?”
“I mean, I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be. Thought maybe could be something sweet…” his voice trails off as you make a disgruntled frown.
“We can pick a neutral color if ya want.”
Joel pulls out a few colors he had stored in his bag—some greens and blues, grayish whites and browns.
You make a firm decision on one—the light green forest color. It’s bold, but it seems to make you happy.
Until he starts painting:
“No! No it’s not right.”
Joel sighs. “What’s not right? This is the one you picked!”
You shake your head again. “The light from the window makes it look so bland. It just doesn’t look good.”
“I can’t control the sun…”
“You’re doing it all wrong, Joel.”
He wipes the paint off of his beard. It’s been 2 days of painting now, much longer than he expected.
He lays 5 different colors on the walls in tiny samples; this time you’ll be able to see the one exactly as it will be when he finishes painting.
You walk back and forth, finger pressed to your lip in hard concentration. “Oh! This one!” You exclaim: an orange tan.
“Are you sure?”
You nod.
He starts doing the color, now halfway through the room, fumes suffocating his brain, but now you’re telling him it's just not as pretty as it looked on the swatch.
“Why are you painting the wrong color!”
“It’s the same one!”
“No it’s not!”
You've now moved on to the next color of the rainbow on your hit-list since he somehow fucked orange up. He lays out 10 swatches of blue. All of which look the same to him but none appeal to you.
“Can we just pick one and settle on it? This much paint on the walls aint good. Gonna take forever to get the smell out.”
“Joel, this is going to be our BABY’s FIRST COLOR she'll associate with. It has to be perfect for her! She’ll be stuck with it forever!”
He raises his eyebrow unconvinced.
“…Until I decide to change it again,” you add plainly. “Or until she’s old enough to decide for herself. Do you really want a tween picking out her own bedroom color to haunt us?”
He huffs but agrees.
You are eating a banana just as Joel's finishing laying on the neutral ocean blue throughout the whole room. You had come in twice already but hadn’t made a peep either time, so maybe this one is the one—
"Oh my god!" You exclaim. Joel nearly falls off the latter with worry that the baby somehow just dropped from between your legs until he sees you point to the banana peel excitedly.
His shoulders slouch in a ‘you gotta be kidding me’ sort of way. His back fucking hurts. Hands cramped up. There’s gotta be a permanent strike of white in his hair right now. He drops the paintbrush, splashing it into the now wasted paint can of blue before taking your peel and walking out the room. Of course, its already nighttime, so the hardware store is closed and he’s gotta wait till morning to get the new paint.
The next day, he's rolling on the new yellow.
You wrinkle your nose disgustedly. "Ugh what the fuck is this?"
"It’s the banana!"
"No it's not! This is so much darker!"
"BANANAS GET DARKER EACH DAY. YOU WANTED ME TO MATCH FROM A HALF EATEN PEEL.”
“It sucks. You've put this god awful yellow in my mind now I don't want anything like it.”
You turn around and survey the room, repulsed by its bright wrongness. Joel opens his jaw wide and silently screams into the air, pounding his fist into his head angrily without letting a sound out.
You turn around just as he drops into a neutral, emotionless demeanor.
The lightbulb in his brain flickers on. “You know what? I got an idea."
-
Joel takes you to the Home Depot.
"Hey Rick,” he says towards the man behind the paint counter.
Rick just chuckles. “Hey Joel, getting another paint? Your wife gonna make me match to the crazy fire in your eyes when you tell her to—“
Joel clears his throat when you waddle quickly to hold his hand like a child eager to stay close to dad in an unfamiliar land. Your mouth agape as you stare up at the ceiling and around all of the endless aisles of lumber and tools. Luckily, you were too stunned to hear Rick’s passing words.
"Why is it so big here?” You ask innocently. “And woodsy. And ... orange."
Joel grabs your hand and plops you in front or the swatches wall.
You gasp, “THERES SO MANY OPTIONS,” eyes sparkling and wide like a child in a candy shop.
"Pick a couple to take home, and then we're getting the paint for it. Ok?"
"How much are they?"
"They're 40 bucks each—“ Joel starts.
But Rick, the ever so helpful manager to anyone but Joel, buds in. “The swatches? You don't gotta pay for them darlin,” he winks.
Joel gives him a dagger look, but you smile so wide and start slipping swatches like they’re on fire.
Joel shakes his head and grabs some more rolls and brushes since his are all worn out. By the time he returns to the swatch wall, all 23 seconds later, you’ve got a giant of colored papers pile barely held in your hands of every single color. “We should check them all!”
He grits his teeth but bares a smile.
-
Joel tapes every single swatch on the wall at home. You walk and study each one. Holding one eye closed, tilting your head to the side, putting a different color next to it. You couldn’t see him pretending to bang his head against the wall on the other side of the room as you debate for an hour now.
Finally, you stand back and take in the entire multicolored wall. “Oh thats it! It’s all of them! We make it like rainbow ombre in like little squares.”
"I would have to buy a can of every single paint. No. We're not doing that. We said one color only.”
"They can't give you like little cups of each color?"
"No.”
"That's dumb. What a scam!"
You wonder downstairs for more inspiration. Something homely. Something familial yet not too obviously Joel or your own style. You come across an old picture of young Tommy and Joel standing in front of Joel's truck, that had just been passed down by their dad. Their smug grins and messy hair, wrinkled clothes and slung arms around one another make you feel pleasantly at ease. Your baby needs to have that same sense of security, youth, and warmth. You study the photo a bit longer, and then it hits you.
-
Joel wakes up, and the first thing he subconsciously does every morning is to reach for you on your side of the bed until he’s in contact with your warm body. It puts him at ease, touching you, knowing you’re there and he’s home. The only times you wouldn't be there would be if you were in the bathroom. But as he looks through heavy eyes, the bathroom door is open, dark, unoccupied. He furls his eyebrows back to your cold, empty side of the bed.
The sound of his truck rumbles distantly through the open window, growing closer and squeaking to a hault in the driveway.
He throws the blankets off and rushes down the stairs 2 at a time just to see you hauling a big heavy paint can slung down low with both your hands desperately holding the handle, all by yourself, bloated tummy and all, through the front door.
Barreling to you, he snatches the can from your sore fingers.
“Are you crazy??? You can’t drive! You can't carry heavy shit! What were you doing—“
"Yes I can!” You challenge back. He sets the can on the table with a loud slam just as you drop his keys in the tray. “I’m not completely helpless, Joel! I can get my own pain and drive my own ... your own truck!"
"Yeah? Go paint the room yourself then, if you're so independent."
You scoff, bemused by his suggestion. “I’m not doing that. That's what I have you for.”
He shakes his head and looks at the new can.
“This better be worth it. "
You smile. “It's the one. Trust me."
-
Joel finishes lying on the paint. It's a breezy, toned down pinkish salmon. Definitely not something that you would have gotten from a swatch. No, you had this one custom matched, and he can't quite put his finger on why it feels so familiar. And gives him little irksome itch too.
He’s about to call you up when he hears Tommy greeting you at the front door.
The two of you make your way up the stairs, Tommy with a muffin shoved half in his mouth. When you round the corner, your husband stands in the middle of the room, awaiting your response.
"Well?" Joel asks curiously.
To his relief, you've got the brightest, sweetest grin plastered all over your face. "It’s perfect. I told you!"
Its worth it--to see the excitement in your face--this is what he was hoping for the whole time. "Thought we weren't doing the gendered color thing?"
you nuzzle yourself under Joel's broad arm. "Well... this one is special."
Tommy nods in agreement "this looks good!" He walks around the room, more so noting Joel's handiwork rather than the choice of paint. It's kind of funny that Tommy almost disappears like camouflage with how closely his favorite shirt matches—
Joel's satisfied grin immediately drops to a shocked frown.
“You made me match our baby girl’s bedroom to Tommy's old ass shirt??"
You nod happily. “Isn't it so good!"
His arms flex angrily across his chest—it’s not good at all. “What’s next, you two havin’ an affair I don't know about,” he accuses between his brother and his wife.
"Joel!”
"Dude!"
"No! We're not painting our daughter’s room after him! This can't be your favorite color! What about every other color we looked at? What about all my shirts?"
Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your sockets for such a ridiculous suggestion. “Plaid????????????" you ask audaciously.
"I got some denim too!"
Just as you two are screaming at one another over who’s shirt to match the room to, Tommy tiptoes backwards out the room quietly while swallowing the rest of his muffin, hoping to snag one more in the kitchen too before dipping.
"...and I'm just to assume our daughter is MINE when you got me painting HIS shirt—“
"I wouldn't be hanging out with your sensitive ass if it WAS his baby, damnit Joel, its just a color, what is WRONG with you—!”
Suddenly, he dips his hand into the bucket and slaps two saturated handprints onto your breasts.
You gasp, backing away. Two Joel-sized hands in pink are wetly printed onto your large t-shirt, your favorite tee, as you stare down in shock. "You. Did. Not.”
Joel shrugs proudly.
You grab the wet brush on the table next to you and slash it across his face before he could stop you.
you try not to laugh, his face dotted in splotches of pink paint dribbling down his whiskers and neck. He rolls his pursed lips before looking at you, a predator smirking at a silly little bunny who’s just been put herself in a trap.
".... This stuff comes off clothes... right..." you ask hesitantly, backing away as he grasps the roller slowly and strides toward you.
You make a run for it, but the big belly doesn’t let you get far as he closes the distance and snatches you. You squeal out, giggling in his arm arms as he rolls and pats paint all over your clothes and body, the two of you getting soaked by the thick pigment. He pulls you around and smashes his lips for a heated kiss. Pink-colored hands rub paint all over your cheeks and chin affectionately. You rub your nose along his bridge, grinning at one another, covered in the glossy acrylic without a care in the world right now.
You peck his lips once more. “It’s a good color on you too, ya know…”
He rolls his eyes. “Tell ya what. We’ll keep the room like this since ya like it so much. And next time I see Tommy, I’m bleaching that shirt. Win-win.”
“Deal.”
- - - -
Taglist
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fluff#tlou fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fluff#the last of us fic#last of us fic#Joel dealing with Preggo wife
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idk if you can do this but can you do a poly!marauders x gn!reader, and the boys’ reactions when yn wears a binder one day.
i'm not trans nor have i ever worn a binder, so i hope this is an accurate portrayal!! feel free to correct me on anything i've messed up.
Getting a binder was a long time coming. After months of research, hesitations and all the time spent waiting, going to the store and getting one, you never thought wearing something to bind would make you feel so damn free. Finally, understanding what people meant when you heard about gender euphoria.
You hadn’t told the boys about your latest purchase. In fact, you hadn’t brought up the concept to them. Not that they hadn’t been supportive of you, they really were. In a world of magic, pronouns were something that hardly needed grasping, and they would correct anyone who messed up politely, sending you a soft smile as they did. But- you couldn’t help but be anxious about them finding out. What if this was too much? What if they get freaked out?
So, you kept your binder to yourself.
At first, you didn’t think they had noticed. You wore looser clothes or sports bras earlier, so it probably wasn’t as big of a difference to others. It wasn’t until dinner that night where you noticed Sirius staring at you from across the table.
“What?” You said, chomping down on a bread roll to hide the way self conciousness ebbed in your chest.
Sirius squinted his eyes, looking like James when he tries to read without his glasses. “You look different.” He says. “Did you do something to your face?”
James laughs from next to you. “Did they do something to their face? What kind of question is that, Padfoot?”
“Well, I don’t know!” Sirius exclaims, “Admit it though Prongs, something about them is different!”
You find it hard to not instinctively crawl under the table to hide. So you curl in on yourself, pressing your chin to your chest to calm the heat across your cheeks. As if he can sense your anxiety, Remus places his hand on your shoulder.
“Guys stop.” He says, light concern lacing his voice, but he’s clearly trying to hide it. “Obviously they’re just relaxed now that the holidays are coming, isn’t that right?” He says to you, giving you a slight smirk and raise of his eyebrows that only happen during his most devious pranks. ‘go with this’, he silently urges you.
You smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m glad classes are almost over.”
“Well,” Sirius starts, “We should have holidays more often then. Haven’t seen you this confident in- I don’t even know.”
“I’ll start the petition!” James pipes.
You smile, glad to be supported by your boys, but still relieved that your secret remains yours.
Little did you know later that night, the boys had a plan to throw a movie night with you in the common room. So at nighttime, when you had changed out of your binder so you wouldn’t sleep in it, James surprised you by barging into your room.
“Oi! It’s movie time- oh sorry.” James said, cutting himself off to cover his eyes as you put on your sweatshirt.
Remus followed him, quickly closing his eyes and turning around when he saw you, “Jeez Prongs! They’re changing!” He scolded.
“I know! That’s why I’m…” He trails off, gesturing to the hand that’s covering his eye- going completely unnoticed to Remus with his eyes shut tight.
You shake your head, a soft giggle escaping from your lips. God, they’re dramatic. “It’s okay guys, don’t stress.” You throw your sweatshirt over your head. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
James makes a soft grunt, before removing the hand from his eyes and taking you in. “Well, sorry again.” He says. His eyes slowly drift behind you to something on your bed, and tilts his head. “Hey what’s that?”
You almost jump, turning behind you to see your binder laid out on your bed, ready to be put away. You shudder a deep breath before trying your best to gesture nonchalantly. “It’s uh-” It’s hard not to cringe at how your voice trembles. Okay, nonchalant isn’t working. So you instead opt to be candid. “It’s my binder.”
James looks between you and the binder, his brows furrowed. “Binder…?” He questions before his eyes go wide. He paces towards you in a frenzy. “You’re not binding your magic, are you? Listen, you shoul-”
A giggle almost slips out again as you interrupt him before he explodes, “No Prongs! It’s for my chest. It binds my chest.”
Despite the reassurance that no, you were not binding your magic, James doesn’t look any less confused. If anything, he looked even more. “Why would you want to bind your chest?” He asks, his brows furrowing as he makes his way from you to the binder.
Candid, you remind yourself. You’re being candid. “So it would be flatter.” You say.
A beat passes before James replies, still looking down at the material.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” You ask. Your heart thumping in your chest with anticipation.
He makes a small squeak as he turns back to you, “I-I just didn’t realise that was something you worried about.” He says, his voice sympathetic but laced with concern. “It’s not…” He pauses,
“Is this where we’re supposed to say something to make you feel better? Because you don’t have to do that for other people you know...”
“No, I get that.” You say, a small smile making its way to your face. “This isn’t for other people, it’s for me. I’m more comfortable with myself when I wear it.” You gesture to the binder, as if it hasn’t been the subject of the past couple of minutes.
With that, James’ whole demeanour changes. The tension in his body disappears as he smiles wide. “Well then, we’re thrilled for you. Aren’t we moony?” He says, nudging Remus who has just been staring at you since the conversation started.
As if he has just awoken from a nap, Remus startles to attention. “Oh- uh yes! I’m supportive of whatever you choose as long as you're happy.” Remus replies, smiling at you before chuckling “Sorry it’s just- I knew that’s what was different.”
“You staring at their chest are you?” James teases Remus. “Perv.”
“No! I-” He exclaims, a red tint painting his face.
You smile at him, about to reassure the boy, when a crashing sound comes from downstairs before a yell echoes through the hallway. Remus mutters a small ‘fuck’s sake’ as the cause of the noise comes bounding towards your room.
“Sorry gentlemen- gender neutral, of course. The popcorn has burned.” Sirius announces before he’s entered the room, reeking of burnt popcorn with a few pieces lodged in his hair. Sharing James’ nosiness, his eyes quickly fixate on your binder. “Hey, what’s that?”
James scoffs before turning to Sirius. “It’s a binder, Padfoot, and they’re very happy.” He says with pride, his chin lifting. “Catch up.”
Remus’ attention, however, has drifted away from the binder and he asks the real important question, “How the hell do you burn magic popcorn?”
Sirius jumps to the defensive, “Hey! I’m the one who told you not to put me in charge of food!” He says, throwing his hands up. “I’m obviously more suited to the pillow gathering region.”
With a dictionary worth of swear words, Remus stomps down the hall to make some unburnt popcorn. James quickly following behind, arguing why him being the pillow gatherer was the best choice.
With Sirius and you alone, he turns to you. “Hey, it’s cool that you have that now. Reg used to use one a while ago.” He says, before grabbing your hand, “Now, let’s watch some movies on a subpar pillow arrangement.”
You laugh as you both go to follow the other two boys. “Sounds good.” You say, feeling more secure with them than ever. Your binder sitting blissfully on your bed, ready to be used again tomorrow.
poly marauders masterlist
#marauders#harry potter#poly!maraduers#marauders x reader#poly!marauders x reader#marauders fluff#marauders x y/n#marauder x you#marauders fanfic#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fluff#james potter fluff#sirius black fluff
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Hi hi I’m relatively new to MotoGP so I don’t know if you maybe made a post about this before already but! What’s the accent variety like in the Italian lads? Bc I learnt Italian for a year and I loooveee love picking apart accents and silly lil language things but I’m just not used enough to spoken Italian to identify any variation from the standard. I’ve been told tho that Bez has a notable accent but do any of the others as well?🤔
accents ask accents ask stay calm! (sorry i am. very passionate about accents) also disclaimer: i am very much not an expert! i'm just having fun here
okay so, all the italian riders (that are important to me) come from one of these three places: Emilia-Romagna, more specifically Romagna, even more specifically near Rimini*; Lazio, more specifically from Rome; Piemonte, more specifically from around Turin.
*only exception is dovi who was born a leedle more in the inland. but only a leedle.
Here's a map where I have circled the zones of interest
(yes the circle around Turin is enormous it's because I'm not searching on google maps the minuscule ass place cele lived in)
You can hear the Romagnolo accent in Bez, Vale, Enea, Luca, Dovi, Mig, with various degree of intensity. Luca is probably the one with the less strong accent, but it's still very identifiable. There are of course still some differences in the way they speak (i noticed that for some reason Vale tends to open his e more than bez, sometimes making a ⟨ɛ⟩ sound rather than a ⟨e̞⟩ sound). Their accent is caractherized mainly by the way they say the s, the z and the c, that they tend to almost hiss. Here's an example of Bez saying his surname, and somebody from another region saying it. (first the person with the other accent, then bez)
In the audio you can also hear the e thing i was talking about: in Romagna they tend to close it more then they do in some other places in the north (for example the other guy is from Lombardia)
Between all of them, Bez's accent is probably the strongest. I once said that hearing him talk feels like being slapped in the face by a piadina, and I will repeat it.
Both Franco and Diggia are from Rome, but to be honest, Franky's accent is almost unperceptible. Really difficult to clock. Diggia has a stardard Rome accent, but not that strong. People from Rome have a very distinct accent (and also probably one of the easiest to do) characterized by the frequent use of dialectal terms. You can hear it for example in the c and g, that tend to be a bit more guttural, and the l tends to become a r. Also, due to the dialect thing, they tend to cut the verbs: for example fare becomes fa', andare becomes anda'.
For the Piemontese accent, we encounter a slight problem: I am also from Piemonte, and therefore it's harder for me to clock how strong the accent is. The main thing that you can hear about this accent is the o, that tends to become more of a ou. Prime example in this baby cele clip, when he says 'porte'. Adorable. Also, around Turin they tend to close the e (while we, from the secret location i'm blogging from, tend to open them). People from Piemonte also tend to say 'neh' a lot, but I don't have clips of Cele saying it because it's quite informal. I might try do to a deep dive later. And I can't say much more about this accent because as I said, I can't really hear it.
You might have noticed that pecco is nowhere to be found in the list up until now. That's because his accent INFURIATES me. He's from Piemonte but doesn't have the accent, and instead has a slight Romagnolo accent. Here's a clip from this year's Sanremo that made me cry in pain.
Another thing you might have noticed is that the guys from the northen regions (Emilia-Romagna and Piemonte) will frequently put an article in front of people's names, even if grammatically incorrect. Il Cele. Il Bez. Il Pecco. L'Enea. Il Vale. We just do that. You will not catch Diggia ever saying it, because people from the centre and south of italy just don't. do it.
I hope this was somewhat idk. interesting? useful? if you have some more questions do ask i love to talk about these things
#true reason why i need to put them into the big brother: get a more complete grasp on their informal way of speaking#has cele lost the piemontese swag of saying fuma c'anduma? i probably will never know#c'è posta per me#henritoivonen#Italian motogp
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a rock and their diamond ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ venture + [bimbo] reader {hcs}
synopsis : venture with a dumb, bimbo-ish, sexy gf… i mean c’mon it’s already canon
—TW : some nsfw hcs , slight exhibitionism , reader is very suggestively a girl , big tits (ahh boo!!!)
art credits : leesam_23
“oh cool! i had a friend obsessed with archeology back in high school; she told me i was a libra!”
“you mean astrology…?” dr. ziegler raised her brow.
“um… i don’t think it had anything to do with space.”
that was the moment sloane cameron knew you were the one.
you’re ditzy, beauty, sexy, (and tall)—quite the opposite to your venturous partner. and most could describe you two as the ‘beauty and brains’.
venture was enraptured the very second they laid their eyes on you. talk about the star of the show; everyone’s attention was focused on you the moment you walked into that dig site.
you’re tiny pink dress that hugged the curve of your waist so tight—barely covering your ass and most definitely straining against your tits (not that sloane was looking…). your long legs and plush thighs that made the archeologist gulp. tall, elegant heels which only put you on more of a pedestal. and if people weren’t already drooling over your body, your face definitely topped the cake. you were gorgeous through and through. a doll.
and, yet, through all sloane’s nervousness, they could tell you looked a tad lost.
“hi! sloane cameron. are you looking for something?” they reached a hand out which you gladly shook; venture noticing your pretty, pink acrylics.
“yes! my daddy works in the medical tent—any idea where i could find it? sure doesn’t look like a fun camping trip though.”
sloane shook the last comment off, saying they’d show you where the tent is. although the digger was dusty and smelled like minerals, you decided to follow close beside them.
that’s where they introduced you to dr ziegler. “are you a doctor too?” you’d ask. “oh, gosh, no. i’m one of the archeologists working here.” and there, the infamous moment took place.
౨ৎ
venture refers to you as various different gemstones, which you love. their go-to’s being ‘opal’, ‘angel’ (short for angelite), and, of course, diamond—your favorite.
^ “almost done w these soil samples. then omw home opal! xo” sloane would reply with to your needy texts.
^ “what’d you want f’dinner, angel?” they’d ask, wrapping scarred arms around you from behind.
^ “you look as stunning as always, diamond.” watching you give a twirl to showcase your outfit for tonight—something always a little teasing and small… not that venture had any complaints.
sloane worked late hours, fully devoted to their passion. you would usually find them hunched over at the table. slim fingers pressing circles into their shoulders, massaging away the tension. your partner would sigh, leaning back before taking your hand and guiding you into their lap. they’d explain their most recent endeavor and you would listen… even though the information went into one ear and out the other.
“ya’ know?” you, in fact, did not know, but gave a supportive nod anyways. sloane snorted, planting calloused hands on the plush of your hips as you straddled their waist. god, they wanted nothing more than to kiss that oblivious look off your face.
speaking of a suggestive kiss, does it come as a surprise that sloane just can’t get enough of you?
their hands are always on you, one way or another—how could they not? so much to grab, so much to play with.
they’d kneed your supple thighs, pinching the fat in awe. and they’d mewl as if it was their own flesh.
sometimes, venture would sit atop you in bed—spending time poking and prodding every part of you like a new toy… not caring about your excessive squirming, stifling little moans.
god, your breasts were the best part. sloane would do anything to be near them at all times. alone, the archeologist fondled your tits, squeezing your nipples between their middle and index and watching them harden. if you were a tease, sloane must be a sadist.
with you being eye candy, there was, of course, a lot of attention drawn to you. some would simply admire from afar, while others took a more brave approach.
venture isn’t a very jealous type… i mean, that’s what they’ve always believed about themselves. yet, seeing men flock to you like moths to a light—it was… irritating.
there was no such thing as ‘innocent’ conversations or ‘harmless’ touches when it came to you; everything anyone did was quite obviously intentional. and somehow, the cherry on the cake was always the follow up question, “did you come here alone?”
and as the men would compliment your hair, and subtly look at your finger for a ring, sloane would interject.
well… if you count standing a few feet away with a hot, red face staring daggers into the men’s eyes as interjection… then, yes, sloane interjected. but, the real problem solver was you, oblivious you. you, who knew you were pretty hot, but didn’t count anyone’s intentions as scandalous.
so, you’d see your partner in the distance and your eyes would immediately light up, waving your hand to call them over. maybe that’s all sloane needed, because as soon as they see that look of adoration in your face, all that anger would subside. you were theirs, after all.
don’t think those men would be off the hook, however. venture would most definitely slide an arm around your waist as you walk away… maybe slightly grabbing the round of your ass with a sly smirk on their face.
you loved to surprise your partner with visits at their job. you never minded dirt and grime and it mostly seemed like it avoided you all together.
venture would be in the middle of a log, wiping beads of sweat off their hairline after a long dig. “excavation log dash 2-3-3, this is sloane cameron speaking—my team and i just discovered a fascinating—“ “baby!!” you ran up to the archeologist, practically jumping on them as you curled your arms around their neck.
sloane would be startled before turning around and giving you an equally tight hug. others whisper about how lucky their coworker is since sloane’s face reached right between your tits. and to think your partner hated the height difference (not in the moment).
“okay, guys, hold that thought! i’ll be back!” your partner would wave.
speaking of surprises, you’d always come home with rocks for sloane. standing in front of your partner with hands behind your back, “guess.” you’d giggle. every night, the surprise was no different, but venture would entertain your enthusiasm.
��hmm… let’s see… is it… a flower?” “nope!” “candy?” “nuh uh.” “a perfectly preserved dilophosaurus spine fossil with all discs in tact?!” you looked around, “uh… i don’t think so?” venture would sigh.
you open your hands, revealing a smooth, brown rock about the size of your palm. “it’s a rock!” you smiled wide and sloane’s cheeks tinted red from how cute you could be. “thank you, diamond! i love it.” you’d sit next to them on the couch, holding onto their arm. “i found it on the sidewalk. what kind of fossil do you think it is? maybe a dinosaur one?”
sloane would pat your head, trying to refrain from explaining to you that most fossils are dinosaurs… and that you wouldn’t find one on the side walk. “angel, i think it’s just a rock—a cool rock nonetheless!” and that satisfied you enough.
honorable mention, but venture definitely buys packs of fossil dig kits for kids you could get at walmart. they keep them at their work station for when you visit because you love to be included in whatever sloane is doing.
sloane works on grid maps in their tent with you by their side, scraping down compacted sand to find your prize. “i did it!” you put down your tiny mallet. “good job, opal! what’d you get?” you pout your lips confusingly, “another rock?” venture, tiredly, rubs your shoulder, “it’s a fossil, opal…” you’re lucky, though, because this leads to a make out session.
when you do have your steamy moments in venture’s tent, it’s always the most passionate. maybe it’s the adrenaline of being caught, or the shameful thought of someone hearing you, either way, it’s exhilarating.
sloane would have you propped up on the table, pushing important papers to the ground. needy hands groping the plush flesh of your hips and your dress hitched up above your ass. your tongue grazing their chipped tooth and fingers tangling in brown hair.
of course, sloane would kiss down your neck reaching the cleavage of your breasts; their hands pushing them together, making the tops spill over the very tight fabric.
of course, you’d ask a dumb question about what if someone walks in. but, your partner is already pussy drunk and is looking up at you from between your thighs, shushing you and asking if you’d squeeze their head before going back down.
it’s very common to get odd looks when you’re both out in public. as previously mentioned, you two look complete opposites. you, in a matching pink track suit, tube top pushing against your tits, low rise sweatpants showing off the tramp stamp plastered on your lower back, g string imprinting on your hips with a cute navel piercing to go with it. you always have your makeup done, sunglasses atop your hair, and pink platform flip-flops… and venture!
venture with their hair a mess, tired eyebags from rarely sleeping, chipped tooth, a ‘we rock!’ oversized t shirt, baggy shorts that went to their knees, and old sneakers. two people you would never think you’d see together, yet holding hands and sloane pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever they could.
and, yes, it’s a little discouraging knowing no one thinks you would ever be with someone like sloane cameron. it’s an insecurity the archeologist keeps in the back of their head. but, without fail, you’ve always introduced them as yours… and that makes any doubts fade away—knowing you hold your relationship with pride.
of course, a few months into dating, venture would make sure you didn’t actually think archeology was astrology. “opal, you do know that zodiac signs are not archeology, right?” they’d raise a brow. “no, silly. i’m not dumb!” you’d giggle and sloane would sigh in relief.
“he’s that murderer—that’s true crime!”
and for sloane, their heart skipped a beat…
yeah, you’re the one.
#overwatch#overwatch 2#ow2#venture overwatch#venture#overwatch x reader#overwatch x you#overwatch fic#venture x reader#venture x you#sloane cameron
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#amphibian#frog#frogsona#amphibidextrous#muscle memory really kicked in by the time i wrote “out” can you tell#there is a slight but noticeable difference#what REALLY gets me about drawing wrong handed is it FEELS difficult but then the end result is visually not that different?#mainly it's hard to use lighter pressure
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and then he got a school as an apology yay !
#i changed marks hair style a bit its a slight change but to ME it looks way better#also hi yea can we please talk about the woes of being mind controlled for days and nobody noticing#either meaning no one knew you or cared about you well enough to notice#or that maybe no one noticed because you being controlled was barely different from how you normally are bc youre just that awful#also hiii if you read my tags this far#i actually do have some mentopolis art about the player characters cooking up!#this mark one was just the easiest to finish first fkjgkgkd#mentopolis#dimension 20 mentopolis#mentopolis spoilers#d20 mentopolis#mentopolis fanart#mentopolis ambition#mentopolis mark bition#mentopolis m bition#mentopolis m. bition#mark bition#m bition#m. bition#dezart
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based on a song by gideon with the same name!
gave me far too much brainrot. deck building dungeon crawling treasure hunting, collect 'em all ways point to the strategist fumbling babeyyy
colors based on what i see for the song! finally living up to my username :b
#tangotek#tangotek fanart#hermitcraft tango#hermitcraft fanart#decked out 2#decked out fanart#this was a very fun thing to work on#synesthesia#it was Very Difficult to fit in the small bits of pink and yellow#hair/tail is based specifically on gideon voice#torch is a different pitch he sings in sometimes#slight difference but It's Important To Me#also the only part not coloured with that scheme is the compass lmao. it's jarring once you notice it
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