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leilanihours · 1 day

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imagine r and nika wanna take the next step in their relationship but theyre not sure on what that next step is, so nika comes back from dawg class w the puppy she was assigned saying thats their next step😭 j bringing back a whole ass dog and insisting her gf lets her keep it

# EVERYTHING

pairing: nika muhl x gf!reader

word count: 1215

warnings: a cute pup idk..

summary: the day you and nika become dog moms.

from lani: cute cute fluff tn for nika ☺️ also i changed the ask a little bit bc i forgot to look back at it while i was writing but i hope u still like it anon!

YOU SAT QUIETLY on your bed wrapped in blankets as you read the book in your hands. normally you would be spending the day with your girlfriend, nika muhl, but she was currently participating in kelsey plum’s "dawg class" before the wnba season started up.

you allowed yourself to zone out as you think about your relationship with the brunette. the connection had been brewing for years, some might say, but it was just labeled official just over six months ago. the two of you were victims of the honeymoon phase, and it was obvious with how you were practically attached at the hip all the time.

there was never any questioning of your relationship nor your love for each other, but as you two began to approach the one year milestone, you started wondering what the next step would be. you understood that nika would be busy with her basketball career, of course, and you would be occupied pursuing your own major in grad school, but you just recently discussed the topic of a possible roadblock.

it was a long, serious conversation that consisted of mutual respect, honesty, and communication. that was one of the things you loved about being with nika. she was always willing to work things out when it came to you. she typically comes off as headstrong to anyone else, but her guard immediately lets down in your presence.

she valued what you had to say and responded with her own kindness, comforting you undoubtedly. you knew you were in it for the long run with her, and but was she in it for you as well?

sighing in contemplation, you gently close your book and set it down on your bedside table as you make your way over to your closet. wordlessly slipping into one of nika’s uconn hoodies, you walk over to the kitchen of your shared apartment to make yourself a cup of tea.

you connect your phone to the soundbar speaker planted on the wall underneath the tv and shuffle one of your favorite albums of all time: blue water road by kehlani. the soothing melodies of “everything” fills your ears as you pad through the kitchen and living room out to the balcony. you observe the beautiful sunset before you, the serene view calming your messy web of thoughts.

you knew nika was it for you. everything about her drew you in, physically and emotionally. her contagious laugh, charming eyes, hypnotizing touch, perfect hair. her undivided love, true devotion, loyal attentiveness, selfless acts of service. no one made you feel this way before you met her. she was everything to you. everything.

you subconsciously smile at the thought of spending the rest of your life with this girl. you pictured what your future would look like next to her and your heart swelled like the music at the end of a cheesy rom-com movie. the love you had for nika was truly immeasurable, and right now you just hoped she felt the same.

speaking of your girlfriend, you hear noise coming from the front door of the apartment. it’s not a key in the door, however, more like…scratching? you curiously walk over to the kitchen as you continue to hear the odd noises.

maybe it was just one of the neighbors’ pets, you think. but nika should be getting home soon…

before you can begin to question the situation further, the door is unlocked and eagerly pushed open by a small creature that was definitely not your girlfriend. with wide eyes, you observe the small brown and black puppy that is now padding happily across the floors, tail wagging excitedly.

you crouch down onto your knees as the dog immediately rushes into your arms, taking in your scent and licking your face. you can’t help but grin at the interaction despite not knowing the source or story behind it.

“hi, baby! surprise!” nika says with a bright smile.

“who’s this little guy?” you mirror her expression as you ruffle the pup’s ear softly. you’ve always had a weakness for dogs, ever since you were little and got one for your 13th birthday. she was a pomeranian named flora and she was your best friend. you loved her so much that you dedicated your many aspects of your life to her.

and, of course, nika knew about your obvious love for the animals, which is why she felt the urge to make this big decision.

“this is ivan,” she starts as she joins you on the floor, “he was one of the rescue dogs from class today and needed a new home…” she says with a shy tone in her voice.

“did he?” you smirk at the girl, enjoying her timid behavior.

“yeah, so when kelsey told us…i had this idea…for us.”

“i’m listening…”

“i love you, y/n, and our relationship. and that’s not gonna change anytime soon, so i figured that this would be the next step…for us? i just think that-” she sighs in thought, “i can’t stand the thought of ever being without you and i know it’s still pretty early into this new chapter of our lives but i wanna spend the rest of my life with you, y/n. so i hope you’ll accept this adorably precious puppy as a promise symbol? at least until i can put a ring on your finger?” she finished with a smirk.

your lips have parted in delighted shock, a speechless look on your face as tears of joy fill your eyes from nika’s words. before you get the chance to reply, your girlfriend worriedly cuts you off.

“you hate it. oh my gosh you hate the idea. i’m so sorry, baby, i should’ve asked you about it first and talked about it i-“

you interrupt her ramble with a giggle as you look down at ivan jumping in your lap. “nika,” you reach out for one of her hands, “i love it. the idea, the pup, you. i love you,” she lets out a sigh of relief at this, her shoulders relaxing automatically, “i feel the exact same way and i need you to know that. i knew you were the one for me from our very first date. i never doubted it- us for a second.”

“really?” there’s a glint of hope and joy in her beautiful brown eyes as you nod, “then why are you tearing up, my love?” she gently wipes a couple stray tears from your pink cheeks that happened to fall.

“because-“ you breathe out with a small laugh, “you just make me so happy, like- words can’t explain it. and i was scared that you would want something different for us, so just hearing you say those things made me happy.”

“so happy that you had to scare me by crying?”

“yes, that happy.”

you both laugh as you lean your head on the brunette’s shoulder. your gazes are trained on the tiny dog that has now fallen asleep in your lap. a comfortable silence fills the atmosphere - the only sounds to be heard are the little snores from ivan and the angelic voice of kehlani still playing on the speaker.

“our little family,” nika whispers as she places a warm kiss on your head and wraps a loving arm around your frame.

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 days

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Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

#fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #fallout imagine #fallout show #cooper fallout #cooper fallout imagine #cooper fallout x reader #fr though why are there so many plates in this game

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marksbear2 · 3 days

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Hiii Papa!! I love your writing and so happy that you came back. And I hope your enjoying America!!

Im requesting Homelander x Male reader. And can it be headcanons? And also smut? I really love your spicy fics. Thank youuu

HOMELANDER X MALE READER

Hello, thank you for requesting!! I’m glad you like my writing and yes I’m having a great time in America so far. There’s not enough Homelander x reader so I’m happy to write for my man.

⚠️Warnings!!- Asshole homelander, humiliation kink, dirty talk, mentions blackmail, public, blow job, mirror, and etc. ⚠️

— You was the first ever man he ever don’t it with. He was a bit awkward but still had his cocky and brave persona.

— He tried to top you for the first few times. He refused to let you even touch his hole. So you just let him top you until you got bored of it and decided to fuck him instead.

— Your his guilty pleasure, he hates the fact how he submitted his body to you. Not without a fight though, he wasn’t just going to let you fuck him. You had to work for it.

— Homelander was devastated for days whenever you fucked him. He didn’t know how to act, he couldn’t believe he just handed over his ass to another man…the worst part of all to him was the fact that he enjoyed it.

— Homelander prefers taking it from behind so he doesn’t have to face you and you don’t have to see his face or anything. He always tell himself it’s a one time thing and will never happen again.

— He swears that he hates you and your cock. He knew he was doomed that whenever he tried jerking off he couldn’t get hard at the thought of a woman or seeing a girl naked. But whenever he thought of you he got hard as an rock.

— He refused to be kissed by you, he struggle and avoid getting any sort of affection from you if it wasn’t strictly sexual.

— He likes taking it rough, he began to love and crave the feeling of your dick stretching his hole out and fucking him merciless.

— He tells you not too pull or tug his hair whenever you two are fucking but doesn’t even protest when you do it. He loves it in fact. Forcing his head back and forcing him to look at you.

— He started to do good on missions and public interviews, so you could fuck him as an good job. He even began to look forward to coming over your house and even more secretly happy to be under you.

— You move his cape to the side and pull down the pants of his hero suit to fuck him right there and then. Numerous times you two fucked in the empty large office of the seven.

— Whenever your fucking him senseless, his heat vision sometimes almost activates. His eyes glowing red as he is taking the hard pounding. He would let out moans and groans. Homelander mouth would hang open like some dog.

— He’s really bad at giving head. You’ll have to guide and talk him through it. His wet eyes slobbering all over your cock.

— People notice how he sometimes has an limp and the seven and other workers in Vought notice how he’s much more tame and has better manners then before.

— Fucking him in front of a mirror and forcing him to watch himself getting fucked. You mocked and teased him about he’s supposed to be america’s hero and the only man in the sky the undefeated homelander enjoying having another man’s dick inside him.

— Recording and taking pictures of him during sex turns him on. You talking about potentially blackmailing him in the future. His reputation in your hands. He doesn’t even try to cover his face or anything during the videos. Often laughed and moaned looking dead into the camera.

— Enjoys being your cumdump. He would sit on the floor or lay on the bed covered in your cum, as he beg and whine for more with his own cock in between his legs being hard as a rock.

— He would sometimes be incredibly covered in blood head to toe and the only thing he wants to do is to suck your cock.

— He came in his hero suit before, you were mocking and taunting him calling him all sorts of things while tugging his hair and pushing him around. He doesn’t last long whenever your dirty talking to him. He can’t handle those words.

— He’s truly pathetic for you. He would get on his knees and hump your legs while looking up at you begging you to fuck him. He would rub his boner against your legs and such. He would whine and grumble and began to imply that he will kill people if you don’t give in to his needs right now.

— He sucks onto your nipples. He would grope and fondle with your pecs sucking your nipples and pinch and tug onto them.

— The first time he came untouched and hands free from your cock inside him. He broke.

— It made him realized that he only wanted you and only you. He frequently begged and asked more longer rounds and such. He would be bent over with his hands over his head shooting his white streaks of cum while you drive your cock inside him.

— You two fucking in empty alleyways in the middle of the day.

— He would have random wet dreams about you, and also day dream about you fucking him during random times. He could be spacing out thinking about you jerking off his cock and dirty talking to him.

— You pressing him against a window and fucking him right there and then. Homelander loved the thrill. If anyone looked up they could see the Supe naked body pressed against the glass.

— Tying his hands behind his back and forcing him to choke and suck your cock while recoding him.

— He ashamed since his guilty pleasure is that he wants a threesome. He wants you and some other man to ruin and fuck him at the same time. He wants to take both of you guys. He hasn’t told you about his wish but hopes it can come true one day.

THE END

#x male reader #x reader #male reader #x top male reader #x male y/n #male reader insert #x gn reader #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x male reader #the boys x reader #the boys x male reader #the boys x y/n #the bear club

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cerastes · 21 hours

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Okay, Hades 2!

Supergiantgames does it again. It’s still Early Access, but it has more polish and content than a lot of fully released games on its price point and higher. Of course, all this content would not matter if it wasn’t good. It’s good. From gameplay to voice acting to sound design to music to graphics and visual elements, Hades 2 is airtight. There’s one exception we’ll discuss, but otherwise, it’s incredibly well crafted.

So far, there’s only one instance in the game I can say needs some important improvements: The second phase of the Tartarus boss, Chronos, who is an end boss. Not in terms of difficulty, mind you, it’s in terms of visual clarity: There’s so many lights and particle effects that making out what’s up can be frustrating, especially when Chronos hits you anywhere from 20~ to 35 damage, or, you know, his 1000 damage practical instakill. The instakill is HEAVILY telegraphed and easy to deal with, almost trivial, but in the concerto of lights and fireworks, it’s possible to miss one or two seconds of Going To The Don’t Die space and getting mulched. That’s not a big problem, it’s just a user experience issue that you just internalize after a few tries and some short term frustration. What IS an issue is Chronos using the Liu Kang flying kick from midst an incomprehensible mishmash of light graphics and taking out 25 HP plus forcing you to reposition in a fight that’s quite lengthy and in a game that’s stingy with its HP.

They don’t need to meddle with his difficulty! They just need to make the second phase easier to parse. It’s a great fight otherwise.

On the Melinoë end of things, some boons and weapons feel like they could use a touch-up: The Torches let you keep shooting while you dodge and move (movement speed reduced), for example, and you NEED to keep shooting to activate Omega Attack which is what actually does damage. But it’s a big commitment because now your defense option is also doubly important as your main movement tool AND your i-frames. This is all really cool! Except the damage does not at all make up for it in a game where the Torches’ linear nature hurt it more than help it, as enemies don’t line up and instead go around each other or otherwise have specialized movement and attack options. The Axe, with its wide sweeps, does pretty much all the Torches want to do, with a lot more damage and less risk. The Aspects of the Torches would try to help: Moros can be nifty, but the ghosts the Moros Torches shoot are physical objects to each other, so they pile up and soon your shots just collide with each other and don’t reach the enemy. It’s a constant tug o’ war with detonating them with Special, which, again, fun, but you have to set up real Hellzone Grenades before they are truly damaging. Basically, a ton of effort for damage I can easily get more safely and easily with other Arms. Which I hope they address, because I like the Torches.

Hestia’s boon is a bit underwhelming, but that’s expected from the DoT build, those are always the hardest to balance. Dionysius in Hades 1 was really strong. Hestia here has potential but ultimately falls off hard because no matter how much you build, it always ticks at 40 per second. That’s very low DPS for Boons that otherwise add no Attack%. With Sister Blades, I can rack up 600 Scorch and it’s still better if I grab Aphrodite instead and do that much damage in a few attacks instead.

And you know what you are seeing here in these paragraphs? Very easily tweaked things in a game in Early Access by a developer known to deliver. I am not worried at all. This game kicks ass.

#hades 2

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 days

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John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

---

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader

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sorrowsofsilence · 1 day

Text

Cymbal-ism • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected pnv, pls wrap it b4 u tap it; male!recieving, slight degrading, rough!folio) enemies to lovers, arguing/bickering

Prompt: You're the new bad omens drum tech, and Nick Folio sure does get on your nerves. Is he a pain in the ass? Or is it the fact you two have some un-discussed sexual tension? Sent via anon

Author note: its hella late, ive had three margaritas, and this is not proofread lol

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

“You’re fucking insufferable,” you muttered under your breath as you brushed passed the short-haired brunette, shoulders knocking against him.

He scoffed, his golden brows narrowing as he hollered after you down the hallway, “Huh? What did you say?”

You glanced his way, flashing him the middle finger with a sarcastic smile while you opened the studio door, before slamming it loudly behind you in frustration.

Nick fucking Folio.

You two got off on the wrong foot the first day you met him two weeks ago. You had bought coffee for the team as a kind gesture, hoping to make a great first impression since you would be with them around Europe for two months.

However, shit hit the fan when you and Folio collided in the hallway as you got off the elevator, spilling the drinks all over him, and immediately giving him a childish vendetta.

To him, if his new drum tech was that clumsy, this tour would be the longest two months of his life. But to you, he was the one who entered the elevator looking down at his phone, not paying attention.

And even though you two barely knew each other, he already made your blood boil.

Perhaps it was the fact he was always trying to nit-pick every little thing you did or the way his attitude was always witty, having a sarcastic retort for everything you said.

It’s also possible it was the way Jolly, your childhood best friend and how you landed the job in the first place, was constantly teasing you about the sexual tension budding between you and Folio.

Or deep down, you thought that maybe it was the way Nick’s annoyingly perfect hair slicked back so effortlessly, or how flawless his ochre eyes were when he glared at you, the deep abyss titillating every time his brows furrowed in your direction.

Everything about him, and to do with him, pissed you off.

But it made you even more mad that you found him extremely attractive, his presence making your heart pound with anger and infatuation.

Nick stormed into the room, kicking the door closed with his foot, “If you’re going to insult me just do it to my face, you coward.”

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you said, kneeling next to the drum kit, loosening bolts on the boom stand.

Folio hovered over you, analyzing your movements as you adjusted the cymbals, taking them down one by one to place them in their cases. There was less than an hour until sound check, and none of the drum gear was moved from the studio room to the stage- thanks to somebody.

Groaning, you stopped to look up at him in annoyance, “I’m glad you think I’m pretty Folio, but maybe you can take your eyes off me and help? Instead of ogling?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he started sliding the copper off of the loosened bars, “I’m just making sure you’re not fucking up my set.”

“Sure buddy,” you said, standing up and starting to unscrew the kick drum.

The two of you worked in tense silence, the air thick as miffed glances were shared taking apart the kit.

You tried not to watch the way his arms would flex as he twisted the rack tom, tattoos glistening slightly as the room heated.

You averted your eyes for a final time when they met his once again, stacking the cases onto the trolly to wheel it out to the stage.

Folio pushed passed you to grab the handles, ready to cart it down the hall even though it was your job.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You asked as you trailed way too closely behind him, just to push his buttons. The smell of his faint cologne and slight musk of weed on his tanktop left your heart picking up pace.

“Of course I do,” He mumbled, about to walk past the stage entrance.

“To the left- the left-” you shook your head, staring at him with disdain, as he completely ignored you and continued walking, “Oh my god- Folio! it was left!”

You heard a chuckle behind you as Jolly and Ruffilo walked down the hall, stopping at the backstage door as they watched you humorously.

Rolling your head back you gave them an exasperated look, sighing audibly.

“You two ok?” Jolly smiled, folding his arms.

Shaking your head in frustration you bitterly laughed, “He is the biggest pain in my ass. I’m seriously debating quitting the industry as a whole.”

Ruffilo snickered, glancing at Jolly and then Folio, “He only does that because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Excuse me-” Nick interjected, shaking his head in disagreement, “I’d rather kiss a wall for five hours. At least it would be quiet.”

Shooting them a pointed look you walked passed the boys as they chuckled, letting Folio follow you onto the stage.

It only took about ten minutes to set the kit back up before you sat on the stool, practicing a few solos to test the position.

Nick watched in irritation from the side, but what you didn’t know was under all that show, was an immense amount of admiration. The brunette loved watching you play. He was always impressed with your coordination and keen ear, the ability for you to instantly stop playing and slightly adjust a drum before falling right back into a quick rhythm, breathtaking.

He’d never want to admit how good you are; but he would always be biting back a smile as he watched you test out his kit for him, making sure it was set and tuned to perfection.

You sighed once you finished your adjustments, before tossing Nick the sticks.

“All yours pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” He huffed, before looking at the kit, “Also, your dumb ass forgot the hi-hat.”

Not believing him at first you glanced at the drums before swiftly swearing to yourself.

He was right.

Getting up you pushed past Nick, but he followed you back down to the studio, an annoyed murmuring coming from your mouth. As you entered through the door Folio closed it behind you, locking it.

“Nick seriously what-” You began, but were cut off by the brunette.

“God, do you ever shut that annoying fucking mouth of yours?” He said, standing close to you as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“If it’s so annoying to you, make me,” You scoffed, tilting your head to the side.

The proximity of Nick subconsciously began to make your face warm as you backed up from him, but he was right on your trail.

You hit the soft padded wall of the studio, Folio’s body millimetres from pinning yours against the surface.

The tension grew as you both stared at each other with hatred.

“Fuck, you.” Nick spat, false venom dripping off his words.

Without hesitating you sneered, “You wouldn’t, pussy.”

It took all of two seconds before his auburn eyes flicked to your lips, a greedy hand reaching up and gripping your jaw as his mouth attached to yours.

It didn’t take long before you melted into Nick’s touch, angry at how good his tongue felt swiping against yours, the grip on your face tightening as his other hand reached to grip a fist full of your hair at the back of your head.

Fury, hatred, and lust fueled the fire between you two as your fingers gripped his belt loops, tugging his hips toward you as you began rutting against him.

You wanted nothing more than to claw down his skin, begging to dig your nails across the ivory and ink, embedding your mark. You wanted him to wince in a mix of pain and pleasure as your imprint but decided that grazing your teeth along his lips would have to do.

Nick moaned into you, quite literally ready to tear your shirt off, tempted to rip the cloth from its seam and destroy the fabric; but he withheld himself, aware that the two of you were hallways away from the exit to the tour bus.

The two of you pulled away panting, catching your breath.

“What the hell are we-”

Nick stared into your eyes, attempting to shift his desire into a glare as he leaned down to bite against your neck, nipping and kissing down the skin, “Just shut up, for five minutes. Please.”

A small whimper escaped you as his tongue grazed your collarbone, Folio’s fingers fiddling with the button on your jeans. You shimmed the fabric down your legs, kicking it off as you tugged at his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

His fingers gripped your hips, pulling them toward his own as he rubbed against your underwear, the bulge and stiffened desire evidence of how badly he wanted this. Reaching for the bottom of your shirt you tore it off your torso, exposing your chest.

Folio pushed your hips into the wall as his fingers danced along the hem of the thong you wore, threatening to dip lower to where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whispered, desperation falling from your tone.

Folio shook his head, almost throwing his head back in humour, “We need to do something about your mouth.”

He pushed your shoulders, beckoning you to the ground before pulling his belt from the clasp. Freeing himself from his jeans, you watched hungrily as he gripped the back of your head, lining up his hardened desire to your lips.

“Open. Now.”

You obeyed, too turned on to fight back his commands. Wrapping around him you began to suck along the skin, closing your eyes as you relished in the feeling of how hard he was, all for this.

You reached up to stroke the base but he gripped your wrist, holding you in place as his hips thrust forward. He took complete control of how fast and how deep he went, using you to his desire.

“Your whore mouth exists for me to fuck,” Nick swore, his other hand holding the base of your neck as if feeling for himself through your skin, “All that backtalk can be shoved right down your pretty throat.”

Moaning at his words you closed your eyes, gagging on Nick’s thrusts as you took your free hand between your thighs, allowing yourself to slide past your panties to trace small circles against the skin.

Your arousal coated your fingers as your hips rutted against your hand, Nick’s fingers leaving your wrist to grip the back of your head. He pushed you down further on him, your eyes watering as he forced you to gag along his cock.

Air dissipated from your lungs, your body shuddering from the lack of oxygen momentarily before Nick pulled you away, causing you to cough.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost chuckling.

You licked and sucked against him for a moment longer, before he pulled you up, gripping your hips. He kissed you desperately again for a few more minutes as his cock pressed against your thigh, before you pulled away, a hand against his chest.

“Are you going to just kiss me, or fuck me like you said you would?” You pushed, your hand gripping his erection, fingers dancing across his skin.

Nick moaned into your lips again before taking his hand between your thighs, slipping his fingers between your folds as he prepared your body for his, “Don’t make it a challenge, or you won’t be able to walk after.”

The brunette lifted your leg, gripping underneath your thigh as he hoisted it up to his hip, positioning himself against your arousal. It was a matter of seconds before he slid between you, your body taking him eagerly as your head fell back, mouth agape at the sensation.

He filled you fully, satiating the hunger you always had for the drummer as he began to thrust into your core, pounding senselessly. The angle gave him access to where you wanted him most, soft cries heaving from your chest as your brows furrowed.

Frustration dissipated into pleasure as Nick gave you everything, fucking you with complete adoration and need. Your nails gripped his shoulders, digging into the skin with haste as you rested your forehead against his neck.

“I hate how gorgeous I think you are,” Nick mumbled into your ear, soft groans escaping him.

Your laugh turned into a moan as his fingers trailed to stimulate you while he thrust, your body convulsing from the bliss, “I hate your perfect laugh, and how you have a lopsided smile.”

“I hate how talented you are.”

“I hate the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.”

“I hate how you walk with a skip when you’re excited.”

Your eyes lidded as Nick gripped the back of your head, forcing you to watch him as he spit on himself, lubricating your combined story as you pushed into him to meet his hips.

His thrusts began to waver as you clenched around him, the stimulation from his cock and fingers causing your legs to shake. Nick was close himself, trying to push you to the edge first before allowing himself release.

“I h-hate how-” You tried to get out your words as complete bliss took over, but Folio’s lips attached to yours once again, his pace never ceasing through your orgasm. Your walls engulfed him as Nick succumbed to you, his breathing staggered and haste as his chest vibrated in contentment.

His hips jerked into you as he allowed himself relief, taking over your body.

You watched him for a moment before his eyes met yours, lips agape in a pant.

The brunette shook his head as his fingers squeezed the skin along your torso, “We have two minutes till sound check.”

“Of course, you’re making us late,” you frowned.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Tags: @sammyjoeee @spicywhenspeaking @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @foliosgirl @thatchickwiththecamera @blackveilomens @xserenax-13

#nick folio fic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio smut #nick folio x reader #Nick folio #nick folio bad omens #bad omens smut #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #sorrows of silence #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers smut

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anders-jjk-drabbles · 2 days

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𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓎!𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝒮𝓊𝑔𝓊 𝓍 𝒢𝒩!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇: 𝒮𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒟𝒶𝓎

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ: ⁿᵍˡ ᶜʰ ²⁶¹ ᴴᴱᴬⱽᴵᴸʸ ⁱⁿᶠˡᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ. ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ᶠⁱᶜ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴳᵒʲᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳᵉᵗᵒ. ᴺᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁱˡᵉʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!

Synopsis: Typically you were the one who always got sick, but when you woke up this morning, it was Satoru and Suguru both who fell under the weather!

Content Warnings: illness (implication of being chronically ill), Use of terms like but not limited to, "mucus". For those who are easily disturbed by words like 'snot' I kept that light and there's nothing super explicitly there. Gojo and Geto refer to the reader as 'bunny'. No use of reader or Y/N. Brief mentions of Jujutsu world and society. Nothing too serious.

ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ! ♡

word count: 1.4k

You were used to getting sick. The fevers, chills, mucus, etcetera. Between Satoru, Suguru and you, more often than not it was you who caught whatever plague was rampaging through Tokyo at the time. Whenever you were sick, the two men pampered you in their own little ways.

Suguru, who always made sure there was a pot of your favorite homemade soup hot on the stove. Who checked your fever with a kiss to your forehead, and would braid your hair back to keep it out of your face. While Satoru, would be the first to bring you meds and a bottle of water. He would sit with you for hours, holding you close while you binge-watched shows together. Whenever you would sigh and explain to him that he would get sick. Satoru would give you his signature shit-eating grin and tell you, “Don’t worry, bunny. Suguboo and I are the strongest. So we won’t get sick from a little measly cold.”

That was, of course, until both of your boys woke up sicker than dogs this morning. Satoru’s face was bright with fever, and Suguru was coughing up a lung. Whatever they had brought home, it hadn’t gotten you. Both of them were completely out of it. Satoru was a clingy mess, hugging your thighs as he burrowed his head into your lap. Gently, you stroked the strands of sweat-soaked white hair from his forehead. He sniffed loudly, voice nasally from congestion, “Bunny— why does this fucking suck so bad? You never act this miserable when you’re sick.”

From the opposite side of the room, Suguru sat at the dining table, his head covered with a towel as he leaned over a bowl of steaming water. At Satoru’s whine, he lifted his head slightly, long black hair braided down his back in a French braid. A loud indignant sniff filled the room as Suguru grumbled, “It’s because, Satoru, they’re always sick. When you’re used to something it gets easie—“ His teasing chide was cut off as he released a hacking cough into his elbow. A groan escaped his lips as he returned to the head-sized cavern of steam he trapped himself in.

“My poor babies,” You cooed, smiling softly as you rubbed Satoru’s back soothingly. It was true. As you had grown up you got sick constantly, you grew used to moving about and just weathering through whatever storm came your way. If it wasn’t contagious and just part of your usual strew of symptoms and not knocking you flat on your ass— You still existed as if everything was almost normal. “Well ya know, angel,” You patted Satoru’s back to get his attention, “Suguru has the right idea. Some steam inhalation would really help.”

In response, Satoru only wrapped himself closer around you on the couch. A muffled whine pressed against your stomach you hardly understood other than his strong disagreement to the idea. “Can’t hear ya, baby.” You giggled, pulling his hair slightly until he blinked up at you with his pretty blues and a sweet pout.

“Don’t wanna.” Satoru huffed, sniffing indignantly, “It feels weird. Makes my head too hot and it makes me more miserable.”

You snorted at his response, rubbing Satoru’s back soothingly. Turned out that when the strongest sorcerers got sick, they were whiny. For a while you sat there with Satoru, holding him close as he sniffed and coughed into your lap. Suguru hunched over the bowl, coughing and hacking. With a pat to Satoru’s shoulder, you murmured, “Okay, Satoru sweetie— I need to get up. I’m gonna make you both some soup.”

He whined again, pressing his forehead against the flesh of your stomach, “Nuh-uh. I’m cold and you’re warm— stay, bunny, please.”With a laugh, you shook your head slowly. “Just a little longer…” You promised easily, rubbing the back of his neck, causing contented little groans and whimpers to escape his pretty lips. A few more moments pass as you agreed and sat with him for a few minutes longer but their combined sniffing and miserable faces was more than enough to convince you. They needed something to eat here soon—

So with a huff, and a whine of protest from Satoru, you pushed him off of your lap and back onto a pillow on the couch. “Rest, honey.” You gave head an affectionate pat as you walked past him into the kitchen. It took you a few minutes to decide what you wanted to make, going through the cabinets and fridge as you looked through ingredients and spices. As you bent over to pull out a stock pot from the cabinet, Suguru’s hands squeezed your hips affectionately as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder blades, “Thanks for taking care of us, bunny.” He hummed in the back of his throat, as you straightened up and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Compared to earlier, he definitely sounded less congested.

The little moment in the kitchen was interrupted by Satoru’s loud groan from the couch, “Can one of you at least come and hold me? I’m miserable over here.”

Both Suguru and you burst into a fit of laughter. He kissed your cheek and left the kitchen to join Satoru on the couch. While they settled in you hauled the pot onto the stove and got started on the soup. Meanwhile, Digimon’s theme song started in the background, bringing a sense of warmth and continuity to your chest.

Last time you had been struck down by a nasty flu, to help you feel better Satoru had put on Digimon because the show always helped him. You never minded, not truly. When you were sick you’d drug yourself and fall asleep to the Digimon battles. Hardly ever, did you really pay attention to whatever was on the TV when you were sick. Hearing it now and the disjointed sneezing and coughing from the next room was just a mildly humorous reminder that even the strongest sorcerers need to rest and recoup.

As the soup came to a beautiful finish. The smell wafted through the apartment. You peeked around the corner, mouth open and ready to call your boys that food was ready and to ask if they wanted anything else with it. Only to see them passed out on the couch in a tangle of limbs. Satoru’s head was tucked in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck while Suguru had an arm and a leg thrown over the white-haired sorcerer.

A small smile formed on your face as you quietly snuck over. You picked up a folded blanket hanging over the arm of the couch and draped it over the both of them. Just as you turned around to head back to the kitchen- a large hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging softly. You look back only to be met with vibrant gazes of violet and blue.

Satoru’s hand held onto your wrist as Suguru reached for your other hand. Suguru’s velvety voice groggy with sick and sleep, “Come nap with us, bunny, please.”

How could you deny a request like that? A smile spreads on your face, “Oh… fine. Better not get me sick though.” You tease. Satoru huffed indignantly, as he pouted before yanking you into the cuddle pile. As you adjusted around, a sense of rightness filled your chest. It was natural the way you fit in their arms. The next episode of Digimon queued up right as your head found its spot on Suguru’s chest and held a tight grip on Satoru’s hand.

Turns out— Them being sick meant sick days for all of you. Within 48 hours of them waking up feeling sick and beginning to recover. You were sick once again. Surrounded by a pile of tissues, and a cup of soup from the batch you made a couple of days ago, you sniffed miserably once again> The fever they had been battling now sent chills down your spine. Satoru’s face was still mildly flushed with fever, wondering aloud how you were sitting up when you looked so dizzy and out of it. Suguru scrolled through TikTok on his phone to keep his mind off being ill. At least all of you got to be together. Sure it sucked being sick but being sick with them? Made all of it a bit easier.

Looks like the Jujutsu world would have to wait. For now, your sorcerers and you? You would rest.

Hope you all enjoyed!!!

Please like, comment and reblog!

#poly satosugu #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sickfic #gojo x reader #geto x reader #Anders Writes

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cyber333angel · 2 days

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stepbro! rafe w innocent reader? like shes been teasing him all night in front of their parents and he finally has enough so he fucks her in the bathroom…<3

you had been teasing him the whole night, giving him quick pecks on the cheek whenever your parents looked away, bending over in front of him in your short shorts acting all innocent, but today you got the taste of your own medicine.

you and rafe were sitting beside each other at the dinner table, facing your parents while they were conversing. you decided to play with him for a little bit, slithering your hand to cup his thigh he flinches in his chair. your parents, a little concerned at the sudden action, ask him what’s wrong. rafe mutters out a quiet, “s’nothing.” and you giggle, seeing as you always find a way to tease him at dinner time. he continues eating but suddenly you feel a rough hand hitch up your skirt making you jolt. you feel him slide his hand higher up your thighs and prod at your cunt through your underwear, rafe slips two fingers into the side of your panties. you gasp and grip your fork firmly as he thrust his calloused fingers into your cunt. your parents see your distressed face looking down at your lap, “honey what’s wrong?” they ask and you remember to keep your composure. making up an excuse you say, “o-oh it’s just these cramps! my stomach just hurts a lot..” rafe slides his fingers out of you with a smirk, done toying with you he suggest something. “I know where the medicine is. i know some stuff is a little hard to find since you guys just moved in.” your mom nods at him, thankful for his “kindness” as he gets up from his seat, you glare at him tagging along into the hallway.

you end up in the bathroom with rafe, watching your face and half lidded eyes in the mirror in front of you as he fucks you from behind. he has his fingers in your mouth as your ass bounces off his pelvis. “just like that princess..shit.. got some fuckin nerve trying to get us caught..” wanting to make this fast, hes thrusting into you at a swift pace making your legs limp while you hold on to the cold sink. “hngh..!” you mewl through his fingers, finally getting your punishment for teasing him all day. “you like that huh? keep acting fucking reckless and see how much our parents will like their daughter playing with her big bro like this.” you quiver under him and stutter through his hand, “no! m’sorryy rafey I was just playing..! wont do it again..”

“yeah s’what i fucking thought pretty.. now be a good girl and cum f’me.” rafe takes both hands placing them on your waist, speeding up the pace you cream on his dick. “s-shit..” rafe pulls out, finishing on your back. still shaking from the orgasm, rafe cleans you up, sliding your skirt back down to your hips and fixing anything that looks out of place. the both of your return back the dinner table about 15 minutes later, your parents having a worried look on their faces. “what took the two of you so long?” rafe puts on a serious face, “oh I think I just mistook where the meditation was. we looked just about everywhere for it right?” he says looking at you, you nod staring down at the table.

#anon #rafe x reader <3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe x black reader #outer banks #rafe outer banks #obx x reader

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jeongin-lvr · 1 day

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Kai asking you so nicely to open your legs for him. whines when you close your legs around his head and loves when you grip his hair.

something about a big strong man whining just does something for me idk… kinda silly at the end :3

Kai was the type of boyfriend to lay flowers in your hair or behind your ears when he had them; the kind of flowers that compared nothing to your beauty, at least in his eyes. Kai was the type to rub your tummy unprovoked, simply longing to feel you under his palms, to touch you. Kai never left the house without a kiss from you, and it wasn’t rare when he came home with some random gift he’d seen and decided you’d like. Kai loves you to bits, every inch of you, every glance you gave him, every peck to his temples he treasured. Sometimes that love consumed him and all he needed was to taste you— to be with you in every single way.

Of course, he’s gonna want to fuck you— you’re his girlfriend. However, you never expected this so often. The neediness and devotion, the late nights and early mornings because he seemingly can never get enough. It’s almost sickening. Burt all at once hypnotizing. You can’t get enough, it’s like Kai has passed on his addiction to you. There was just something about the way he acted when he wanted you; when he needed you, you could see it in his eyes and the way he practically studied you. Mesmerized while all at once not focused at all. If the two of you are alone you bet your ass he’s pouncing on you as soon as possible. It’ll start off gentle because Kai has enough ability to control himself. But then it’ll grow, eating away at his stomach and mind was the lust that you caused him. You were the most succulent fruit and he was a thirsty, starving man. So he’d trail his fingers up your thighs, your waist and then he’d press you into any flat surface he got to first— the bed, the counter, the wall, even. There he’d have his way with you. And it’d always start with his head between your thighs because not only does he know you like it, he’s sure he likes it even more.

“Open them up for me, bub,” Kai instructs with a small smile, adoring how you stared up at him. When he was standing upon you like this you couldn’t help but feel small. Weak under his stare and his hands that laid on your waist. He’s got you laying with your back flat against the couch, lower half thrown over the armrest of the couch as he begins to crouch before you. Almost in a pleading motion. He’s got his big palm splayed flat on your tummy and another on your thigh, prodding at it to open so he could finally see how needy you were for him. “Please, baby,” He coos again, a slight edge to his voice that sounds more like a command than a plea. You listen this time because you didn’t want to piss him off— you’ve done that before and it wasn’t good for you.

Kai smiles as you open your legs, only your lacey panties in the way, he indulges almost immediately, kissing upon your clit through the thin material. It’s not long before he’s dragging those same panties down and catching sight of your slick, coating up and down your folds almost embarrassingly. There he begins kissing your pussy again, his prominent nose digging against your clit, bumping and moving in a way you could never feel without his help. He’s messy and sloppy and everything nice. Sweetly motioning between kissing your clit, whispering “I love you,” and tongue-fucking your pussy. Relentless and in less than a couple minutes you were unraveling. Kai wanted this, he needed this, so he continued, his fingers digging into your thighs harshly, struggling to maintain his composure as he works at your pussy, panting between movements. Groaning and aching for the taste of your cum to stain his tongue. Your hands are reaching down and intertwining in his hair— not only that, but gripping at his scalp, pulling harshly at his locks until he himself is moaning. Gripping your thighs harder and harder until his nose nudges your clit one final time, and suddenly your thighs rip out of his hands and shut over his head, hips jerking up and moans of his name filling the air. He can’t breathe but he really doesn’t mind; something about it was intoxicating, working your body across his face, using him through the peaks of your own orgasm.

When you’re finished, breathless and embarrassed you’d cum so early, he’ll pull back with the biggest grin, “Thanks, I needed that.”

#hehehehhe #nonnies !#huening kai oneshot #huening kai smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hueningkai #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka hard hours

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rotdistressxox · 3 days

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Sorryyy that the requests have been closed and I've been lacking in writing. Here's a treat <3

"I don't care"

Raian Kure x Afab!Reader

Content: 18+, Reader is on their period, Messy cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Dirty talk, Blood play, Raian being himself

Didn't use a word count, but it's most likely 1500+ words. I didn't double check for errors either hehe

It was the second day of your period, which also happens to be the worse day of the cycle in your honest and humble opinion. Without the help of acetaminophen, you probably wouldn't have been able to go on a date with Raian. You had been going out with him for around two months, despite knowing him for years. It was a long story

Dates with Raian are a pain in the ass at first with his attitude, but it's always rewarding hanging out with him anyways. Despite feeling like a water balloon, you hobbled out the door. Looking the best you could in your current condition.

Raian was waiting for you infront of your apartment complex, staring down at his phone with a resting bitch face. If you weren't dating him, hell if you didn't even know him, you'd turn in the opposite direction. It looked like if anyone talked to him he'd snap in an instant. Lucky for you, that wouldn't actually happen.

"Raiaaan" you sang weakly, hoping he heard. His head raised and turned in your direction. The moment he laid eyes on you he smirked and shoved his phone in his pocket.

"Hey there" he said amused "Hope you have all your shit with you, because when the day is over you're coming to my place" your face slightly dropped. Did you have enough pads in your bag? You'd have to break the news to him somehow that you couldn't stay over. Or in other words, have sex.

"What's with that look?" His smirk dropped into a slight frown. "Nothing" you mustered a smile for him, and he hummed. You latched onto his arm and looked up at him, hopefully pleasing his ego a little "Let's go"

He rolled his eyes, and the two of you began to walk to your destination.

It was an active day to put it simply. It was a lot of walking, a little more than what you could handle in your current condition. It was mixed with window shopping, sightseeing, and eating. You were finally sat down and waiting for you food at a restaurant. Feeling almost too exhausted to even eat, and your feet were extremely sore.

Raian was talking about how the village was doing, including the recovery of Ohma which he probably shouldn't talk about in public. Fatigue washed over you as your eyes felt droopy, nodding along with his stories.

Unbeknownst to you, Raian had stopped talking completely, but you kept nodding and humming. Your eyes widened once you realized that you were responding to air. His face was littered with confusion, his white pupils staring you up and down.

"Okay, what the hell is going on with you?" He asked sternly, sitting up and crossing his arms.

"What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean"

"I'm just tired Rai, that's all"

"I can see that, but you've been acting off all day. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"It's not something I should say in a public setting"

Raian gave a grin, clearly he thought you meant something else by that. "Oh yeah? Well it's not like anyone's listening"

It was the first time your cycle had ever landed on a date with Raian. You were extremely lucky to have avoided that for 2 months. But this time you weren't so lucky. You'd only piss him off if you held off telling him any longer.

You curled you finger, gesturing for him to lean closer. He chuckles and leans in with a playful look glazed on his face.

"I'm on my period"

The playful look he had turned into one of realization. He sat back in his seat and sighed "That explains it"

Now you were the one confused "huh?" Your eyebrows raised.

"I grew up around women. Dunno why I didn't see the signs beforehand" he rested his head on his palm while looking at you. "Plus your scent is different. That's a dead giveaway"

You were taken aback by that comment, almost flustered. He laughed and pointed at you, shaking his head.

"The look on your face is fucking priceless" his pointy teeth showed through his laughter. You pouted and looked away from him in embarrassment. So he could smell you? But you had taken a shower the night before and put on fresh clothes.

"Don't dwell on it now sweet cheeks, the foods here"

~~~~~~

"You don't have to come back to my place y'know. What I said before doesn't matter anymore" his eyes darted to the side to look at you while his hands were in his pockets. He wasn't one for handholding, unless you asked.

"It's fine Rai. You did this all for me" it seemed awfully selfless of him to resend his words because of your period.

Raian had his own smaller residence on the Kure clan property. It was all his, and it was lucky that it wasn't attached to the larger portion of his father's. Let's just say the lovemaking between the two of you was rather...thunderous on a good day.

A small part of you thought that he'd still ask for something in return. Like a blow job, a hand job if you really felt lazy. You wouldn't mind it, it's not like he was picky about touching yourself infront of him.

" 'M gonna change, do whatever you want to get settled" Raian slid open the door and kicked his shoes off before entering. He headed straight to his room, leaving it up to you to decide what to do.

'I should change my pad again' your cramps started worsening after dinner, the pain relievers had worn off slowly but surely. You headed straight to the bathroom. Once there was a fresh pad attached to your underwear, you rummaged through your bag for more pain relievers. You opened the bottle to find that there was none left.

Swearing under your breath, you mentally face palmed as you looked in the mirror as yourself. "What shall I ever do with myself" you said dramatically. You were here now. At your boyfriends house. With no way of soothing the aches that grew stronger by the minute. Maybe you could ask the family if they had a heating pad of some sort.

You trudged out of the bathroom to Raians room and slid open the panel. He had already set up the futon, except he had placed black sheets over it. Your lips curled into a smile at his thoughtfulness.

"You're sleeping in those clothes?" Raian leaned on the door frame in a grey tank top and sweatpants.

"Uh- I didn't bring any pajamas with me" you bit the inside of you cheek while looking at his muscles. Fuck. You could never get over how effortlessly hot he looked in those. It almost hurt to look because you actually just wanted to lay down and cry because of the discomfort you were in.

"Just use one of my shirts. Not like I give a shit" he opened a drawer and grabbed whatever was in there and tossed it to you. Shrugging, you turned around and took off your clothes.

The Kure raised his eyebrows and sat down while watching. The shyness you had previously of stripping infront of him had vanished apparently. You were desperate to get your clothes off anyways, spending the whole day in nice clothes was almost a sensory overload.

The only thing you had on now was his shirt and your underwear. You felt so free that you felt like frolicking through a field of dandelions. Until you realized that you just stripped infront of Raian.

"Why'd you stop? It was just getting good" He licked his lips while leaning back on a pillow.

You groaned and plopped down next to him. It wasn't worth it to fight back now. Cuddling into his side, looking for any heat that you could. Half of your body was on top of him, pressing some of your weight down to relieve all of the tension you built up.

Raians muscles tensed at your touch but eventually relaxed. His hand landed on your lower back, softly rubbing it in circles. He slightly lifted the shirt to feel your skin against his hand. It was warm, you could feel his callouses brushing against your flesh.

"Have you been cramping the whole day?" Raian asked bluntly, but in a softer tone of voice.

"Kinda"

"What about now?"

"Yeah...I'm out of medicine for it"

He looked down at you with a hardened gaze. "You didn't take or bring any?" His fingers tilted your head to look at him.

"I did, but I ran out tonight" you could tell he wasn't angry, moreso concerned. His eyes softened in understanding. Your hands rested on his abdomen, feeling him breathing in and out. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as you looked his body, your eyes tracing from his neck all the way down to his crotch. You could see the outline of his cock in his sweatpants.

He's done so much for you today. Might as well. Your hand wandered to the bulge in his pants and began stroking it softly, trying to get it hard. He jumped at the sensation and grabbed your wrist.

"What are you doing?" Raian huffed in your ear. You looked at him as innocently as you could.

"I just wanna give you something in return. I feel bad for making you carry my weight for the most of the day"

"The fuck are you talking about?" he moved your hand away from his crotch, not letting go of your wrist. "If I wanted something in return I would've asked. You don't need to force yourself to do anything"

"I know but woAH-" before you knew it, Raian had flipped you onto your back. Not roughly as you would expect it to be. His hands rested on you hips as his face hovered over yours.

"Don't think I haven't noticed how you've been looking at me since we got here. Even on your period you're still so needy" he said in a lower, more seductive tone. "Let me take of you then if you need me so bad" his lips pressed into yours. You whimpered into his mouth as you felt yourself throb with want.

He parted from your lips and lowered himself down to your own crotch, his fingers pulling on the elastic of your underwear.

"Wait!" You shouted in protest. "I'm bleeding, we can't-"

"I don't care" he pulled them down, sliding them accross your legs and throwing it to the other side of the room. "I like the taste of blood"

You didn't know if you were disgusted or turned on. But your body yearned for him, and there was no stopping Raian when he wanted something carnally.

Raians hot breath over your aching entrance made you squirm. His arms were hooked under your thighs to make sure you stayed put. His mouth pressed into you as his tongue began to play and lick at your folds. You could feel his nose press into your clit as he began eating you out like a starved man.

You softly moaned, grabbing both sides of his head. His tongue pushed its way into you, causing your fingers to tug on his hair. He made sure to lap up every drop of blood he tasted. The taste made him hum in satisfaction.

Biting your bottom lip as you felt the vibrations of his voice shoot through you, you couldn't help but squeeze his head with your thighs as your vision got blurry. Raian chuckled and sucked your clit, holding your hips down whilst the sounds of his mouth along with the sensations of him ravaging you made you come closer to your orgasm.

"Rai...fuck...Rai ph-please" you whined.

"Fuck" he groaned into your pussy, feeling his muscles flex. His strong arms holding you down with his lips latched onto you. By this time his nose and mouth was covered in your juices mixed with blood. It was repugnant, but it felt too good. He looked absolutely mesmerizing with his eyes closed, obsessively eating you out like there was no tomorrow.

At this point your cramps were an afterthought. His tongue made you spiral in delirium. The coil inside you was going to burst, and before you knew it-

"Raian!" You screamed his name as you orgasmed, bucking your hips the best you could to ride it out. He gave your folds one last lick before separating himself. He was ignoring the boner straining in his pants because of his craving to see you get off as many times as you could tonight.

"We're not done" Raian wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand before straddling you once again. His left arm caging your face in to look straight at him. He took pleasure in the erotic look you had on your face while you panted.

"Look at you, what a lewd expression" his right hand slid between your legs to rub at your swollen and abused clit. You whined and pressed your palms into his chest. "I'm going to make you forget that your period even exists. You're going to wish you begged me to do this before"

His middle finger pushed its way into your entrance. You had forgotten how big they were compared to yours. You whined as you felt it curl inside you.

"What? Too big? Come on now, it's just a finger, not the real thing. Take it like the good slut you are" his palm pressed into your clit as he slid it in and out. Slowly accelerating the pace and which he did it.

Your back rolled with the movement of his finger, searching for as much pleasure as possible. You mewled and writhed under him, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Look at me. Open your eyes" he assertively stated while grabbing your chin. You obeyed, tears of ecstasy filling your eyes whilst your pupils looked into his.

"That's it. Look at me while I make you cum again. Your tight little pussy fucking soaking my finger. You wanted this so bad" he grumbled while stroking your g-spot. His finger thrusting into you at an intense speed. You could hear how wet you were, the sounds echoing through the room.

Everything about this was smutty. It only made your spine twinge with thrill and your nails dig into Raians chest. He groaned, his nose touching yours while watching your expressions twist. The animal in him only wanted to ravage you until you were a complete mess. But tonight was different. Tonight was about you this time.

God you were close again. Your back arched as every thought left your head. "Fuck-" you managed to sob as your thighs trembled.

"Gonna cum? Yeah? Your wet cunt can't handle any more. Cum for me" the thrusts of his fingers got shorter but rougher. His thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "You like me fingering you and eating you out. Making you helpless beneath me. I wanna shove my cock in you so bad"

"Fu...ck. .uhn...Yes- Rai....gonna-" You were cut off as his lips crashed into yours again. You moaned into him as you came on his fingers. Gasping for air as your hips shook. He pulled his finger out of you, circling your sweet spot for good measure before licking all the fluids off of his hand.

Rendered speechless, you weakly smiled at him as your back collapsed back onto the futon.

"Shit. You're a mess" he sat up and wiped off his forehead. He rolled his eyes watching you stupidly smile. "Let's get you cleaned up" he hooked his arm under your knees and shoulders and picked you up with ease.

Raian carried you to the bathroom to wash the both of you off. He wasn't very experienced in aftercare, but it'd be nasty to leave blood all over his face, hands, and between your legs.

"What about you?" You asked as you sat on the bathroom counter as he used a wash cloth to clean off your inner thigh.

"Huh? You can worry about that later. Now shut up and let me work" he huffed. You ruffled his hair and lazily sat back, completely exhausted. Atleast you weren't cramping anymore

#kengan ashura #kenganverse #kengan omega #kengan ashura x reader #raian kure #raian kure x reader #Spotify

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staytinyville · 6 hours

Text

Burn It (Pt. 1)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Eventual!Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Namjoon x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi,

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household,

↣ A/N: Honestly I always get inspired by all the historical stories on here and I just really wanted to sit my ass down to write. Part two might just have smut y’all so tell me if you want lmao. Also can you please tell me what you guys think of my writing? I don’t know I want to publish sometime soon but like if I suck at writing why bother.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Tags: @anyamaris , @kpop-stories-21

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You usually slept on your back, worried about the day someone came into your room to do something. It was all you ever thought about the moment you were told why your parents truly made you the queen.

You weren’t a light sleeper by any means, so you knew the moment someone stepped into your room something was going to happen. It wasn’t one of your guards who would announce their presence or even your family who you knew the staff would call out to you the moment they slammed the door open.

You didn’t dare to move. Not when you could hear their steps in the room that were clearly trying to be quiet. Anyone who wasn’t trained to listen in to their surroundings were bound to be caught off guard by whoever it was. However after spending the last few years in fear of being killed in your sleep you taught yourself to pick up on the smallest of things.

You felt them reach the side of your bed, but still you didn’t move. You took in a deep breath, waiting for them to strike. When you made to move your body just the tiniest of bits, your eyes flew wide open at the person who suddenly had you pinned to your bed–a sharp blade placed against your throat.

You swallowed softly, looking up into the face of your assassin. The light from outside the room was barely enough, but you could make out the scar that ran along the right side of his face. His cheeks that look round. The band that was tied against his forehead. The blonde hair that was neatly wrapped in a bun.

You didn’t make a sound though, only allowing your eyes to follow along his face. You could tell that after a moment, he began to grow confused, his eyebrows pulling together and head tilting to the side.

You made no show of trying to fight him off. You didn’t even breathe harshly. Instead he watched as your eyes scanned over his face, eyes glittering in the moonlight that showed through the curtains. It left him baffled as you kept an even expression to it all.

“Why aren't you terrified?” He asked, clenching the blade’s handle.

“There are things more terrifying than death.” You whispered, catching his attention.

There was a sad expression behind your eyes. He could see it hidden behind your facade. He almost faltered when he came to the realization that you were waiting for him to move the knife. But his resolve came back, quickly shaking his head to clear it.

“Then you should be thankful.” He sneered.

He pressed the knife deep just barely breaking the skin. But he stopped completely when all you did was fall limply and close your eyes. His breath got caught in his throat, feeling conflicted over the way you were acting.

He was told about how much of a tyrant the queen was. How she would strike at anyone who dared to even breathe in her direction. She was cruel and followed in her parents footsteps of ruling the kingdom with fear. Those who worked in the castle that were part of the rebellion had all said she was an emotionless person who didn’t even bother to look at when someone was being punished, not bothering to spare them her time.

She was a menace, someone who didn’t deserve to be on the throne. But yet, here she was under his grip awaiting death to come to her without so much as a fight. She was hiding things behind her eyes that would be released come death. But Yoongi didn’t feel it in his heart to kill someone like that. Someone who was willing to give up their life for something haunting them.

He couldn’t stand to see others that way. Not when he had been there before.

You felt the blade lose its pressure, opening your eyes to look at him once again. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you questioning me when I have a knife to your neck?” He sneered, pressing the knife back to you.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Quiet.” He growled, slamming a fist into the pillow next to you.

“Why aren't you calling for help?” He asked, moving to hover above you, his knife next to your head.

“Who will be there to help me?” You whispered once more in that sad voice.

“Your grace!” Someone called from outside of your bedroom.

The man’s head snapped to the direction of the door, hearing the handles begin to twist to signal someone was going to come in. The assassin was quick to jump off the bed and out into the night without so much as a second in between. You rushed out of your bedspread, not caring about being in your nightgown. All you cared about was getting to stop the man.

“Wait—”

You froze at the bottom of the steps that lead outside, catching as he turned around to face you under a lamp post. You could finally see his face in its entirety. The scar ran along his eye and down to his cheek. You were still as his face seemed to burn itself into your memory. You wanted to call out for him, ask him what he was doing.

But there was something stopping you. The way he looked at you like he was torn. It was gone in a flash just as he was following the calling of your name from your bedroom.

“(Y/N)?” You turned to find your personal guard looking around the room for you. “What are you doing outside?” He asked, walking up to you.

“Couldn't sleep.” You spoke softly.

“What brings you by?” You asked the man, turning to face him.

“I heard a man's voice. It was hostile.” He looked around the room just to make sure, moving things around that created dark spots.

“You have sharp hearing, Namjoon.” You smiled softly.

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” You walked closer to him, causing him to look at you.

You watched as his eyes went wide, hand reaching out to touch your neck.

“You’re bleeding.” He wiped his thumb along the miniscule cut the man’s knife had left.

You moved to wipe at it yourself, coming with bloody fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing to yourself.

“I probably just scratched myself in my sleep.” You told him.

Namjoon was perceptive, but he wasn’t going to question it because he knew you. No matter how much he wanted to care for you when you got hurt, you were someone who kept to themselves. You weren’t going to allow others to know your pain.

“I’ll clean it for you.” He said.

You allowed the man to do as he pleased. You suddenly felt much too tired to allow yourself the time to clean up the wound. Besides, you always enjoyed your moments with Namjoon. He had been there since you became the so-called queen. He watched them put the crown on your head. Watched with a harsh breath and flare nostrils as he knew the truth behind it all.

The only one who did.

As you felt is large hands press softly into the skin of your neck you almost wanted to flinch at how easy it was for him to actually kill you. There will always be people out there much more skilled than you ever could be. Much more powerful.

Tears welled in your eyes as you thought about it. You felt useless–like you life was miniscule. And it was in the eyes of your family. You didn’t realize a tear fell down your cheek until Namjoon moved to wipe at it.

“Are you truly okay, my queen?”

Namjoon’s acknowledgment of your title had you squaring your shoulders, looking at the man with a small smile on your face.

He was right. You were the queen–the one everyone called her majesty or bowed their heads to when you walked. It wasn’t your parents–your sister who walked with a smaller crown. It was you. Even if your family was the one who told you what to do in the end–you were the one who the kingdom saw as its queen. And you knew it was time to step into that role.

The time that passed was a long one. New bruises and wounds turned up on your body–hidden behind the hanbok you would wear. They would never dare to strike you across the face, not when the entire kingdom could see. They had images to keep up and people to boss around. It was their kingdom but you were the one they hated.

You still walked with your head held high, nose turned up as you tried to remain emotionless. You had learned to perfect the look with all the eyes that followed you everywhere. You didn’t dare to showcase any kind of emotion. You knew if you did they would see it. And they didn’t want their subjects to know the queen was being ruled by fear.

“Choosing a warrior for the princess is a perfect way of having her protected.” Your father’s general walked alongside the both of you.

“Here are the fine gentlemen who decided to take up the mantle. It gives the common people a chance as well to be part of the royal court.” He explained looking over the men he had watched train to be the best warriors they could be.

There were a total of 50 young and older men all standing in rows with hands behind their backs and legs spread to shoulder length. You didn’t bother to look at them because you knew that your family had already chosen you.

“Thank you, general.” Your father smiled brightly. “We would only want the best for our daughter.”

He turned to you, the grin on his lips making your stomach turn as you tried not to sneer. Your eyes immediately dropped from his face, turning around as you finally began to scan the warriors who suddenly raised their heads at your discretion.

“Your grace, please be sure to choose wisely. Munhee is your twin sister–she deserves to be protected just as much as you.” He offered in a sickenly sweet tone.

“Of course, father.” You spoke monotonously.

You begin to walk through the men, only picking you head up to give them a glance but continuing forward. You could see some of them gulp in worry while others let out breaths from your monotonous look. You were only courteous, meeting some of their eyes in order to make them think you were actually picking on your own.

You continued on through the rows, trying your best to act like your parents had told you to. But there was a second–just one second–where your facade dropped and you came to stand still. He stood in another row, a bit shorter than those next to him. But he still kept a stoic face–facing forward in the position the general had them all stand.

He was to the right of you, giving you the opportunity to see the long scar that ran down his face. There was a flutter in your heart that was created by anxiety. But it was fear, it was an anticipation that would lead you to win.

No one noticed the way you stopped to stare or the way you started to breath harshly. Namjoon had been the only one, eyes moving to scan the crowd as he tried to find what made you stop. Your father continued forward with the general speaking to himself as he thought you were walking alongside him.

“I hear that Sooyoung is quite the—”

“Him.” You interrupted your father.

“What?” He stopped, turning around to quickly find who you were looking at. “Who?”

You moved with calculated steps towards him, but he didn’t move from his position.

“The one with the scar?” Your father spoke bewildered, glancing between you and the man. “But your grace, you can't possibly want—”

“I'm positive he is more than capable of taking care of Munhee.” You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the man. “He looks like he's been through tough battles.”

“Oh well, I don't remember seeing him during training much.” The general frowned as he squinted his eyes at the scar on the man’s cheek.

“He does seem to have a memorable enough face.” The general tsked but moved to turn away and back to the front of the rows of men. “Step forward boy!”

With one last look at him, you turned to Namjoon who was following closely behind you. You watched him take in a breath, eyes scanning the man over as his eyebrows pulled together. Your face remained emotionless, turning around while lifting your nose up. You could see your father sneering as he began to follow behind you.

“State your name.” The general asked once all of you made it to the front.

“Agust.” He spoke deeply.

“What an odd name.” Your father waved off.

“Sounds western.” The general nodded to himself.

“Are you positive this is the one you will choose your grace?” Your father spoke up.

You could see the fury behind his eyes, the one that was clearly telling you to back out of the problem you had placed them all in. But you looked at him the same way you always would, not daring to move your head from his stare. You felt Namjoon grow closer to your back, his warmth seeping into your clothes. You moved your hand from under your sleeve–a silent request to tell him everything was okay.

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate.

“Very well. The ceremony shall take place later this afternoon.” The general spoke up, humming to himself as he began to gather the other men.

Yoongi watched as you didn’t give your father another look, walking away quickly with both your father and guard on your heels. Your robe billowed behind you as you fast walked, but he was quick to notice the way your father rushed up to you and caught our arm before the doors to the palace shut behind you all.

“(Y/N), what is the meaning of this?” Your father sneered, gripping onto your arm tightly. “We decided already who would be the royal guard.”

“I'm sorry—” You flinched, unnoticed by the way you spoke with no emotions.

Your lips turned downwards, a sneer waiting to overtake your face at the way your father was clutching tightly onto your wrist–enough to know it would be bruised in a little bit. Your hands clenched up, nails wanting to scratch at his arm for hurting you. But it wasn’t the right time.

“We will talk later.” With one last tight squeeze your father threw your arm from his grasp.

It made you jerk backwards, teeth clenched as you were quick to soothe the ache.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon walked closer to you, fingers lightly falling down your arm to take a look.

“Yes, I'm fine Namjoon.” You spoke, your emotionless voice causing him to straighten up.

As your gaze landed back on the closed doors the only thing that crossed your mind was the scar along that man’s cheek. There was no mistaking that mark–it was one that seemed to alter your way of thinking all together. You were brought back to the night that he held the knife to your neck. Made you bleed and a small barely noticeable scar being left behind.

Your hand went up to your neck, feeling the uneven skin under your fingertips.

“Namjoon, would you protect me if someone was to come and assassinate me?” You suddenly spoke up, looking towards the doors that lead to the courtyard.

“What kind of question is that?” The man gasped, looking at your incredulously. “Of course I would—with my life.”

“Why?” You said absent mindlessly.

“Because I am your royal guard—”

“Did you know there are people trying to kill the queen?” You stopped him, turning to face him completely.

He gulped, watching as you grew closer to him. “Isn't there always? But that won't stop me from protecting you.”

“It's a rebellion, isn't it? People wanting to kill me.” You quietly spoke, watching as his eyes scanned over your face before falling to your neck where he could see the scar.

His breathing began to grow rapidly, as he tried to come up with an answer. “They don't want to kill you—”

“So you know about it?”

“(Y/N), I swear I know nothing about it—” He began to sputter.

“Namjoon, you are the only person I can trust in this palace. The only one who knows the truth. And now I want you to be honest with me. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” You demanded.

He suddenly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your grace. There is a rebellion that is out to kill the queen. But it's not you they are after, it's Munhee. At least the one they're really after is Munhee.”

There was something that seemed to lift off your shoulder hearing those words. It didn’t make you feel any better however it did make you understand that there were plans that needed to be put into motion. Plans that you were going to accomplish with certain people on your side.

“(Y/N), did something happen?” He asked.

“That man.” You spoke up. “The one I placed as Munhee’s guard. You know him. I saw it in your face when I chose him.”

He watched as your nose twitched and your eyes went glassy. “Namjoon, are you part of the rebellion?”

“Never!” Namjoon shouted, taking a step closer to you. “I could never do you harm or wish for something as cruel as that to come to you. You mean everything to me. I will stop at nothing to protect you from those who wish you harm.”

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment at his confession. His eyes expressed just how much he meant every word. Namjoon was the one person who had been with you since you were a girl hiding in corners from the abuse you would suffer at the hands of your family. He has seen you at your worst. Which means you had to be better for him.

“Then how do you know him?” You asked.

“I don’t personally know him. I’ve only ever seen him around the kingdom a couple of times.” Namjoon licked his lips, answering truthfully.

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. “However, there could be someone who might.”

The ceremony wasn’t anything spectacular. Only the army was present and those of the palace staff. After the general proclaimed his speech to those around, he handed you a sword which you took in a tight grip walking forward towards Agust who kneeled at the stop of the stairs.

“It is an honor to serve the royal family. As royal guard to the princess you shall take up the mantle as her protector.” You prattled off.

“You shall put your life before hers to guarantee her safety. Do you accept this position?” You spoke loudly, keeping your eyes downcasted on the man who was kneeling in front of you.

“Yes.” He spoke up, keeping his face down to the ground.

“I hereby name you a royal guard to princess Munhee. May your sword always be sharp and your will always stay strong.” You ended, making him rise to grip onto the sword you were handing over to him.

As he reached out for the sword that laid on your palms, your sleeve had moved down your arm, giving him full view of the darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on your wrist. He watched your hand suddenly clench onto the blade of the sword catching his attention and making him look up into your eyes.

Your face still remained emotionless, but you made a small movement to get him to take the sword. He was quick to take it, bowing his head once more as he began to sheath the blade. Your hands fell to your side, causing the sleeve to fall over your wrist once more.

There wasn’t much left of the ceremony other than you giving an emotionless speech about how you were grateful to the army for what they did. Once everything ended on a normal tone, the royal family turned around to enter the palace with the new royal guard in tow behind the entire entourage.

“I can't believe this is the man you appointed!” Munhee screeched. “How stupid can you be!? Haven't you already done enough!?”

She had been stomping her feet in front of you but quickly turned around to strike you across the face. Your face whipped to the side, not expecting the hit but you didn’t dare to make a sound or move a hand up to cradle your wound.

Yoongi watched with an emotionless face as you seemed to keep up the facade. Your guard was quick to step up to you, getting between you and the so-called princess. Yoongi glared at all of you, eyebrows pulling together at the debacle.

“You insolent girl. You deserve everything that is coming your way.” She sneered at you.

“Munhee!” The old king sneered. “Do not strike her face!? How many times have we told you!?”

His eyebrows only seemed to pull together deeper, trying to figure out what the whole dynamic was between everyone. It seemed you only remained emotionless as your large guard took your arm softly.

He didn’t understand what your place was in all of this. You were the queen who was above all of these people. And yet they seemed to take pleasure in screaming at you. You didn’t give any reaction to their words or actions–allowing them to do as they pleased. You were no queen after the whole thing.

“Namjoon, take her to the healers quickly before she bruises.” Your father turned to your royal guard. “They have to fix it before she goes out in public.”

“Of course.” Namjoon spoke through a clenched jaw, softly pulling you along.

You didn’t give Yoongi another look, keeping your head up as pieces of your hair fell out of your headpiece and into your face. He watched you leave before turning around as he heard the princess stomp closer to him.

“Ugly, good for nothing.” The princess sneered, quickly turning from him. “Don't look at me. Your face belongs in a cell.”

The way she had her lips pulled up and nose scrunched up made her look ugly. It seemed she had done that face so much it stuck to her skin. It was clear she was your twin somehow but for some reason Yoongi found himself claiming your face was much easier to look at.

“Forgive me.” Yoongi spoke monotonously.

“What do we do with him?” Munhee didn’t pay him any mind, turning to her parents.

“We'll have Namjoon teach him for now.” The old queen spoke carelessly. “Until we have a reason to get rid of him we can't do much. That would mean forsaking the general and his warriors.”

“Stupid traditions.” Munhee rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep him out of my sight. And give him a mask for when he is. I cannot stand to look at him.” She gave him one last sneer of her lips, stomping away with her parents in tow.

“Of course.” Some guard for your parents announced.

He began to walk away, so Yoongi assumed he was to follow after his superior. He was taken out of the back gardens and into another part of the palace. There were curtains that were billowing out of the room that gave it enough breeze. The guard takes Yoongi around the building towards the doors.

“You may stay here for the time being.” The guard explained, opening the doors to a wide spacious room.

“I will be sure to inform Namjoon of your whereabouts.” He bowed his head before turning to leave.

Yoongi had assumed he was left alone, watching with a raised brow as the guard seemed to walk away quickly. However when he suddenly felt a presence behind him, he was quick to turn. He watched as a stunning man seemed to tilt his head in confusion at the man.

He was dressed in a translucent robe that draped down his body. He wore expensive looking jewelry and was cleaned much better than even the royal family themselves. Yoongi could smell the perfumes the man wore from where he stood a good three feet away.

“New concubine? But no one said anything about it.” He spoke with a deep voice, but his eyes held childish wonder.

“Concubine?” Yoongi questioned.

“Are you not one?” The man asked, stepping closer to the scarred one. “Isn't that why they brought you here?”

“I was appointed as royal guard to the princess.” Yoongi immediately answered, keeping his stare on the handsome man.

“Makes more sense.” The concubine nodded to himself, lips forming a perfect pout. “Princess Munhee would never choose you.”

Yoongi suddenly frowned, giving the man an offended look.

“Taehyung, don't be rude.” Someone behind Yoongi spoke up.

He quickly turned around finding another man dressed the same as the one in front of him. However, this one seemed to have puffier cheeks and shorter in structure. He also carried himself more sensually–confident in what he looked like.

“I still think you're very handsome.” He smiled softly at Yoongi. “My name is Jimin. This is Taehyung. We are concubines for Princess Munhee.”

Once more the assassin was left confused. Why weren’t they concubines for the queen herself? It wasn’t really known that the princess had some of her own.

“The princess? Not the queen?” He spoke out loud.

“She doesn't have any.” Taehyung answered.

“Well except for Jungkook but he's just for show. He says he's never been with her let alone her bedroom. He's still a lucky bastard though. I wish I was (Y/N)'s concubine.” He pouted, crossing his arms in a childish manner.

“You like the queen?” Yoongi asked baffled.

“Like?” Taehyung tilted his head to the side. “I love her! She's so kind and patient. She always treats our wounds after we've been with Munhee. She gives us extra sweets when she comes to see us. Anyone would fall in love with her.” He sighed dreamily.

Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear all that was falling from the poor man’s mouth. He only saw someone who had been brainwashed into thinking the queen was someone kind and nurturing. It did leave him a bit baffled to remember that it was the queen who had been striked across the face by the princess but that didn’t mean her emotionless heart wasn’t real. It was clear by the way she didn't react to the way she was treated.

“She is a tyrant. How can you stand to live here as concubines? You don't get to see your family and as you said, you get wounds from the princess—”

“Exactly. From the princess.” Jimin interrupted, coming to stand in front of Yoongi.

Jimin looked at him with squinted eyes that made him look seductive. But his words made it seem like Jimin was waiting for Yoongi to figure everything out. “There are things within the palace that are not correct. You'll find that out soon enough.” He told the man vaguely.

The door suddenly open and all three men turned to look at who had entered. Taehyung beamed at Namjoon who gave the two concubines a bow of his head. Jimin only gave the man a small smile twirling around to go back to whatever it was he was doing before Yoongi had entered.

“Agust, please follow me.” Namjoon called for him.

Yoongi gave the two concubines one last look before following after the larger man. He began to lead him back to the main building, Yoongi trying to memorize the journey.

“My name is Kim Namjoon—you can call me Namjoon. I am the royal guard to queen (Y/N). We will be working together closely.” He explained.

Yoongi paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thought about the woman. “The queen—what did they do?”

“They gave her a cold patch.”

He lead Yoongi to another section of the palace that seemed to be full of different kinds of staff. It was close to the rooms of the royal families so Yoongi only assumed it was the building he would be staying in.

“This is where we stay. We share a room along with the other royal guards.” It was a quick thing before Namjoon took off once more from the guard quarters.

As Yoongi was looking around, trying to find escape routes or hiding places he didn’t notice Namjoon had come to a stop causing him to bump into the man.

“What are you doing here? Do you know the risks of getting caught? You should leave before something happens to both you and the queen.” Namjoon quickly spoke, causing Yoongi to look at him oddly.

Namjoon had a stern expression on his face but he didn’t care to reach out to kill the smaller man. It was clear that Namjoon knew who Yoongi was the moment he came into the palace. Namjoon was someone often spoken about within the group. One of the people who worked within the palace had explained that Namjoon would do anything to protect the queen from harm.

However he also said that Namjoon would be more than willing to be on their side. It left him at a confused headspace over the bigger man.

“I know that more than anything what will happen. I have a mission to complete. I can’t go back without results.” Yoongi spoke harshly.

“For what? A murder that is unjustified?” Namjoon glared.

“You know as well as everyone else just how justified it really is.” Yoongi retorted.

“I know you’re out to kill the wrong person. If you think you were the only one thinking about infiltrating the palace, you would be wrong.” Namjoon has his arms crossed, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate the scarred man.

“Namjoon?” A soft voice spoke up behind them.

“I’m here, your grace.” Namjoon turned around to face you, watching as you walked closer to them with smaller robes that were easier to walk in.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You spoke up calmly, staring Yoongi down.

“Cut the small talk. Why did you choose me?” Yoongi sneered, knowing the three of you were alone from others to keep from saying what he wanted.

Namjoon glared, about to take a step towards him but you subtly moved your hand out to keep him from getting closer.

“Did you not want to be chosen? Isn’t that why you infiltrated the army and applied to be the personal guard for Princess Munhee?” You questioned him.

“Why did you select me?” Yoongi pressed again.

You took a moment, irking him as you looked down at him.

“I don’t know.” You merely shrugged.

“I can kill you right now.” He placed a hand on the sword you had given him, causing Namjoon to reach for his own.

You stopped them though when you walked closer to Yoongi. “You can but it won’t solve your problems.”

“It will solve many.” He sneered.

“That’s what you think.” You told him.

He felt something in his chest watching you. He knew it was you, knew by the little scar that was under your head from the knick his blade had left months ago. Knew by the way you softly stared at him waiting for his next moves.

However you were different now. Different in the way you spoke—the way you held yourself. It was nighttime then though, he has never seen you before. But speaking with you now it wasn’t the same as the woman who was awaiting death with open arms.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked.

“Who?”

“The girl who waited for me to move my blade. The one who was hoping I would.” He spoke quietly, keeping you stare.

“I found a better chance.” You told him, speaking in that voice that told him how there were worse things to fear other than death.

“One that lets me live the way I want. My personal guard will make sure to tell you of your duties. Do not mess it up.” You added sternly.

You turned around, Namjoon giving Yoongi one last harsh stare before turning to follow after you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you.

“I have suffered my whole life just for others to come and kill me in place of my sister.” You spoke softly looking down at the paper you had been writing on. “I’m done being the decoy they know they need. The plaything they would have their fun with when they were angry.”

You looked up when knocking comes from the door. “I was made the queen. And as far as the kingdom knows I am the Empress who rules. So that is what I will be.”

The double doors open wide as Yoongi struts his way in. Namjoon stands behind you with his hands clasped in front of him. He glanced your way, taking note of how you don’t bother to look up at him. From what the other concubines have claimed of you, Yoongi has yet to see it.

“Sit.” You tell him, going back to writing a letter.

He listens to your demand, sitting cross legged in front of your table as he waits for you to say something. It takes another 10 minutes before you do. By then Yoongi had a frown on his face from having wasted time sitting in front you, waiting.

“I have something to ask of you.” You told him.

When all you got was a raised brow, you continued. “I need you to take this to your leader.” You rolled up your letter and pushed it forward towards Yoongi.

“Leader?” He questioned.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” You clenched your jaw. “Someone sent you to kill me. And now I want to send them a letter.”

“Are you mad?” Yoongi scoffed.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But you get tired after so much.”

There it was again—the jab at your past. The jab in Yoongi’s chest that made him rethink about killing you. It was the suffering he heard in your voice. The one that didn’t care about what happened to them because they had already been through so much.

“I don’t get it.” Yoongi told you.

“Don’t get what?” You questioned.

“This!?” He says pointing to the letter you wanted him to send to his leader “Everything around the place. I came here knowing one thing but come to learn it’s not right.”

“Information can get lost in translation.” You waved him off.

There was so much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with those in the group about the whole thing because he had been training with the army for the past couple of months. All he knew was that the queen was a tyrant who treated the people of her kingdom unfairly.

But now he wanted to know if he was looking at the right person.

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demanded.

“What is that?” You asked him.

“That a queen would allow someone beneath her to strike her.” He told you.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You asked him.

“Not what?”

“Beneath them?” You take a deep breath thinking over something. “At least in their eyes.”

This made him stop for moment. After witnessing the actions of her family Yoongi came to realize there were things wrong with the royal family. And after hearing the words of those who worked closely with them it was clear that the choice he made of sparing you was one that left his conscious free of guilt.

“Are you trusting me?” He questioned you, realizing that you were about to tell him the truth.

“You’re going to find out sooner or later. In case you haven’t—I’m not the real queen. I’m only the one who takes the harsh blows of the tyranny my family causes. I’m just their scapegoat.” You explained.

“If you do your job right there should be no consequences. You have my word.” You told him.

“Which job?” He questioned.

“You should know which one, Min Yoongi.”

Pt. 2 Y’all? Be sure to apply to my permenant taglist so you can be added to Pt. 2 if I come out with it lol.

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