Hello! My name is (not) Snoozi and welcome to my blog. Fairly new to the tumblr scene so be nice because its the law. I write stuff, mostly fanfiction, but that sorta makes me a writer right?
My name is (not) Snoozi and I write stuff for the people. I write for whatever I'm into at the moment, but here's some of the fandoms I'm currently in that I will be writing for:
JJBA (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)
TLOU (The Last of Us)
Mortal Kombat
The Boys
Star Wars
JJK (Jujutsu Kaisen)
Until Dawn
LOZ (Legend of Zelda)
Hunter X Hunter
That's it for now but I'm chronically online so the list will eventually get bigger. I won't be frequent with my posting (unfortunately) but I will try to keep up a solid schedule. Now for some rules,
WILL DO:
Character X Reader
Character X Character (Keep in mind I might not like a ship that's requested, if so I will let you know, so please be respectful of my preferences and I will be respectful of yours)
Character X OC (If you do request an OC please make sure to give me enough information about them so I can characterize them properly in the story)
NSFW
SFW
Mild! Dubcon
AFAB/Female reader
GN! Reader
AMAB/Male reader (SFW only)
WON'T DO:
Incest
Pedophilia
Heavy kinks (Ex. Sadism, Sadomasochism, BDSM, etc.)
Noncon
Heavy gore
AMAB/Male reader (NSFW)
That's it for now! Will keep this updated in case anything changes so stay tuned.
shy! leon's assistant! reader x re9! leon (part 2 of this)
Summary: You settled into your new position as Leon's assistant, and as the months pass you by, managing reports and schedules becomes much more with Leon. The whole office realises the two of you are inseparable with shared routines and late nights.
Song: Something Stupid - Lola Marsh
Working for Mr Kennedy, or Leon, as he asked you multiple times, was different from any other job you had worked before. It’s not to say you didn’t like it or that you were uncomfortable around him, in fact, it was rather the opposite.
You just never quite knew what to do with yourself around him.
You soon adapted to his way of working, you kept a small notepad and noted down his schedule. He came in at 8.30am and left between the time of 7pm to 11pm. It depended on his mood, what day it was, and the time you wanted to go home. You noticed that he put off his lunch as late as possible, to make the second part of the day seem ‘quicker’; you noticed that he hated digital files and always printed them off; you noticed that he could quickly reel off details from a file that he only read once.
Leon was no stranger to observing either. As he passed your desk, he felt a little embarrassed to see the clean structure of it all, how everything was perfectly lined up – compared to his mess of a desk. He saw how much you would fidget in your seat and how your eyes never left your screen despite this. When he first called your name in the office, it startled you so much he began to knock softly on your desk before speaking to you.
It was a Friday, you had done a full week of working with Leon, the two of you were finishing late – a seemingly running theme for the past few days.
You heel kept slipping out of your shoe as you bounced it up and down, sat cross-legged on your chair. Sorting out Leon’s mission report and ensuring that none of his emails went unread, your fingers clicked at a rapid speed across the keyboard, lines of data reflected in your eyes. You heard Leon’s chair creak as he leaned back, signalling that he was ready to go home. You looked up at the coat hanger, to see your coat and scarf hanging up next to his. The weather was beginning to warm, and you thought about how it was probably time to drop the scarf. The once shrivelled plant on Leon’s shelf had begin to shoot back to life after you began to water it.
“So.” Leon started, taking off his reading glasses.
“So?” You pushed yourself away from your desk slightly, patting non-existent dust off your shoulders. You suddenly became very aware of how hunched over you were and internally begged yourself to not say something stupid in this conversation.
“What did you think?” He asked, watching you make yourself presentable after hours of staring at a screen.
“Think of what?”
“Working with me this week? I hope I wasn’t too scary.” he joked.
You laughed softly and your eyes fell onto the floor, “you weren’t scary. Working with you this week has been… efficient.”
“Efficient?” He raised his eyebrow, nodding slowly.
“Yeah… I don’t have to repeat myself or correct mistakes or anything. Saves a lot of time.” You continued, unsure if you had said too much. You had a bad habit of saying too much or nothing at all, you could never quite grasp the perfect number of words.
“Hm. Don’t usually get someone describing me as a piece of equipment.” He huffed, amused.
“I didn’t mean it negatively,” you said quickly. “I like working with you, Leon.”
“Good. Because this week has been significantly less stressful with you around.” He pushed himself out of his chair and stretched, a little grunt accompanying this.
“Really?”
“You have somehow structured my chaos, and that is impressive.” He sat on your desk and then tapped the top of your monitor before you could say any more, “It’s a Friday. What are you still doing here?”
“Uhm, your reports?” you replied innocently, looking up at him with your hands placed in your lap. Something about you resembled a small mouse to Leon, maybe it was the way you scrambled around him or accidentally squealed when he called your name too loudly.
“You know you can go home and do them next week.”
“You’re here too,” you said, a little bluntly.
He paused and then sighed, standing up, “fair point. C’mon. Let’s go home.”
As you two left the building, your shoulders brushed slightly. Neither of you said anything or adjusted yourselves.
You stopped in your tracks, clutching onto your bag strap.
"Leon," you called out.
"Yes?" He stopped to turn around.
"Thanks for a nice week at the DSO," you gave him a warm smile. He returned it.
"...anytime."
Within the first week of meeting Leon, he planted a seed of affection that began to bloom in your heart.
You no longer needed to look at each other to pass files to one another, neither of you needed to fill a silence because it was comfortable sitting in it together. Neither of you needed to consciously to adapt to how the other worked because it already happened naturally.
The one plant on Leon’s shelf multiplied into many others and you had your own flowers on your own desk. Leon would find you watering them in the morning while he placed the snacks that he bought for you on his way to work on your desk. His tie was all crooked, and without thinking, your hands reached out to fix it, straightening it for him. He blinked at you,
“…thank you.”
The meeting room held many secrets. The two of you always walked to meetings together, and Leon never left the room without you. If either of you adjusted yourselves and there was a brushing of your leg against his – neither of you would move. Once, you were finishing up notes, and Leon was awkwardly hovering around the door, checking his watch, as if there was something physically barricading him from passing through. It was only until you got up and walked through the door that he left the room. The two co-workers watching this laughed.
In the middle of spring, the office goldfish passed away, and Leon found you scooping the corpse up into a plastic cup.
“What are you doing?”
“Jerry passed away,” you mumbled, a hint of sadness in your voice, “he meant so much to me when I started here.”
Leon held back a laugh, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I want to give him a burial.”
“A burial?” he questioned.
“Yes. Flushing him down the toilet is a horrible send off,” you explained, horrified by how anyone with a decent heart could flush a precious thing down a toilet. A fish was a pet too. Imagine flushing your dead cat down the toilet. Cruel, you thought.
“Alright then, let’s give him the funeral he deserves,” Leon confirmed, a little surprised by your loyalty to this fish, but anything to see you happy he supposed.
The two of you spent your lunch digging a hole behind the DSO building with a teaspoon.
“I can’t believe you have me digging a grave for a goldfish behind the DSO,” Leon murmured as he scooped out the last bit of dirt. You laughed a little, placing the goldfish in the freshly dug hole.
“The lengths you go for me won’t be forgotten, Leon,” you teased, patting his back. He turned his head over his shoulder and caught your eyes, and for a brief moment you two were staring at each other. A boyish grin flashed on his face before he stood back, and you said a few words. When the two of you walked to the office, you had some dirt on your cheek, and he brushed it off your flustered face. Clearing his throat, he walked back to his desk like nothing happened.
Co-workers began to notice. It wasn’t uncommon to see the tall man dressed in navy to have you, tagging alongside him with your notepad in your hand.
“Do you know where Kennedy is?” Someone would ask.
“Probably with l/n,” was one of the multiple variations of answers.
“Have you seen l/n?” Another question.
“Yes, she was last with Kennedy in the break room.” Another variation.
“Where’s the two?”
“Gone out to get lunch together.”
You were waiting for the printer to work, and Sherry found you, asking: “Have you seen-“
And then Leon would be there, appearing around the corner with two coffees in his hand. She saw the way a smile stretched across your face as soon as your eyes lay upon him.
“Ah,” Sherry said to herself.
People began to test this theory. Leon would walk out of a room, and someone would ask him where you were, only to be greeted by you, who was only a few paces behind him.
You became much louder, in fact, people could now hear the two of you coming. It was either your laugh that echoed down the hallway or his boyish giggle. You now knew the security and the receptionist, they would welcome and say goodbye to you. You now waved at people and greeted them in the office, your posture had lifted into something bright and beautiful. You were no longer the shadow you had the desire to be; you reflected the light and for once, you didn’t mind it. This courage to call out others' mistakes instead of being complicit in their obliviousness had taken root in you.
One evening, exhaustion had finally won, and you were fast asleep, your face resting against reports. Leon found you, your peaceful face lit by your desk lamp. He laughed slightly and draped his jacket over your shoulders as he returned to his desk, occasionally glancing over to you. You were going to be in for one hell of a lecture about pushing yourself too hard when you woke up.
“You know, you’ve really come out of your shell, y/n,” Sherry stated, as the two of you ate your lunch on a bench in a nearby park.
“You think?” you asked, looking at the cherry blossom trees that filed down the park.
“Mhm. And I think a certain someone has something to do with it,” she hummed, glancing at the blush that crept onto your cheeks.
“No… no,” you denied, immediately knowing who she was implying.
“Deny it all you want, but he has certainly helped you blossom.”
You didn’t respond, but your eyes drifted to the window of your office where Leon was probably working.
“They’re calling you two salt and pepper.” Sherry admitted, taking a bite of her sandwich.
“Why?”
She laughed and then said, “because you two come as a pair.”
“Oh dear,” you huffed, smiling a little.
The inevitable realisation that you had feelings for this man fluttered around you.
It fluttered around him too - intensely.
He could go hours now without thinking about the golden liquid in his flask. Nothing was dying in his office anymore, not when you were around. Despite the natural coming of the spring, his days were lighter and brighter with you in them. Seeing your face after missions, the way you would rush to the medical room after events that would hollow him from the inside, it soothed the mental torment in his mind. Even just the small things you would say, he knew you were a woman of a few words, would assure him. And for once, finally, he felt that someone wasn’t relying on him.
He admired the way you were capable of things yourself, after gruelling years of everything being on his back, there was someone to take the pressure off. He had never felt more ashamed when you caught him tipping whiskey down his throat, even if you never said anything about it, the way you became quiet after just killed him.
Seeing you made him get up in the morning, and if you ever called in sick, extremely rarely, a dread would build in his chest again. His grip around his pen would tighten when he heard you take all the verbal abuse your mother threw at you through your phone. It disgusted him.
“Mmm… I think maybe if you…” you spoke about how he should approach his next mission, you had scooted your desk chair to his desk, your heels flicking back and forth. You leant over to press on his mouse and typed a few words into his keyboard, revealing a new image of some report. You saw an image of the BSAA badge. Your heart sunk a little.
Your leg brushed against his. Neither of you moved. For a second you think he inched his leather derby shoes closer to your black kitten heels. You adjust your legs, so they’re still touching him, but closer. Your head is still glued to your paper, and his eyes are still glued to his screen. A hundred reckless impulses rushed through your brain and everything in you just wanted to press the tip of your shoe against his ankle and rub slow circles around and around, to slip yourself on his lap and feel his rough stubble, to look up and meet his eyes. But you couldn’t, as wanting something and acting on it were very two different things to you. And you always found yourself better at the former.
It was late, 11pm. Leon groaned, pulling himself away from his desk. The absence of your rapid typing did not go unnoticed by him. Strange - you never left before him. Your coat was still hanging up next to his and your desk lamp was still on, so you couldn’t have gone far. He left the office, peeking his head around the corner.
Bang! Bang!
Thuds were heard from around the corner, and Leon followed the noise.
You were crouched on the floor, half of your arm in the vending machine. He cleared his throat and your head snapped towards him, caught red handed. You went bright red.
“It stole my money,” you admitted, pouting slightly.
He chuckled as he saw the stuck chocolate bar leaning against the glass.
“I don’t think fighting it is going to make it want to give it to you.”
You groaned and slid your hand out in defeat. Nothing was working in your favor today. Your shower broke this morning, so you had to resort to drowning yourself in perfume. Your computer locked you out of your account. Your button fell off your coat. Now this.
“I just wanted one thing today,” you mumbled, staring at the purple wrapper through the glass.
“One thing?” he questioned softly, tilting his head.
“Yes.”
“From a vending machine?”
“Yes.”
“Step aside.”
You stepped out of the way.
He gave the machine a firm shake. Didn’t work. He then kicked it in frustration, and it slipped into the basket.
You gasped as you retrieved your chocolate, “my hero!”
“Anything for you,” he smiled back then checked his watch, “you know its eleven, right?”
“I lost track of time. Seems like you did too.” you replied, observing the bags around his eyes. No one ever noticed him staying late.
“C’mon. Let’s go home. You need to rest, you know,” he held your shoulder and led you back into the office.
“Okay salt,” you mumbled, taking a bite from your chocolate bar.
“Salt?”
“People are calling us salt and pepper.” you said, mouth full of chocolate. You passed the chocolate bar to him.
“Why?” he questioned, his eyes flickering to your face and then taking a bite out the bar you passed him.
“Apparently, we come as a pair.”
“And you’re assuming that I’m salt?”
You two continued arguing over who was salt and pepper out of the building, chocolate in your mouths, and the receptionist rolled her eyes.
note: i hope u guys liked the pure cheesy office romance <3. the next chapter will be quite angsty!
summary: you had worked in the dso for almost a year now doing logistics and communications. you preferred the quiet and being behind a screen. however, sherry believed that working as an assistant for leon would benefit not only you, but him too.
so you were now assigned as leon s. kennedy's assistant.
both of you had your own problems, and it was only a matter of time until either one of you was going to crash.
"you'll be fine, trust me. he's not scary at all." sherry said, filing through papers, her eyes scanning each one.
you pace back and forth, pushing your hair out of your face and then rubbing your necklace between your fingers.
"you've known him for so long- i've only heard of him like he's a myth!" you exclaimed, stopping in your circles and staring at sherry with a desperacy.
"you're perfect for the job." her gaze was taken from the files and onto you, her eyes full of certainty.
you wiped your clammy palms on your pencil skirt. this unbearable dread had been planted in your chest, you should've called in sick this morning to escape this fate. you felt yourself grow smaller, if that was even possible, because in your mind - it was.
"sherry, i'm not- i'm not sure i can even do this-" you took a deep breath in. you did not write out those positive affirmation post-it-notes and stick them to your mirror for nothing. you nodded, "it's fine. i can do this."
"there we go." sherry chuckled a little, the corners of her rosy lips curving upwards. she placed her hand firmly on your shoulder. "this is major for you. don't let this opportunity pass you by."
"yes, sher- ma'am."
sherry let out another laugh, rubbing her thumb slightly on your shoulder before letting go and placing a pile of folders in your hands.
"you'll need these. now, take a deep breath and go in that office. you've got this," sherry assured, a bright encouragement shined from her smile.
the files anchored you down and you paused mid-walk over. you turn your head over your shoulder, like a child seeking her mother's approval.
sherry mouthed "go" at you with a proud grin stretched on her face.
this was easy for her. it was far away from easy for you.
at the end of the corridor was a sleek grey door, with the name 'leon s. kennedy' engraved into a golden platter. you weren't used to feeling important. sure, you worked at the dso, but you were used to blending into the shadows - drawing attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to do.
and working for leon s. kennedy was going to attract the attention you hated.
you pushed the heavy door open with your back, your heart pounding out of your chest. it was just a person. just a guy. just some man. don't be afraid of a man, don't let him intimidate you. you were going to be his assistant, you had to get to know him. just be sociable for the next... however many hours.
the grey, february light filtered through the windows, and the cold air conditioning made the office into what could be mistaken as a freezer. there was a dying plant on one shelf, a long rifle held on another. a coat hanger held a navy blue scarf and various leather jackets. a framed photo reflected the light, and two figures could be made out - it seemed to be him and sherry, fairly recent.
the broad figure looked up from his paperwork to raise an eyebrow at the woman who just clumsily stepped into his office with a pile of files in her hand.
"who are you?" his deep, oddly soothing voice drew you from your observations. his eyes fell to the folders you were holding, "need help?"
now, you were observing him.
his hay-like hair fell around his face, a few greys woven within his chestnut brown. his eyes were sharp and pale, as if they were clear and contrasted against the dark frame of his eyelashes. his face was tight with frustration and exhaustion, evident in the deep crease in his eyebrow.
your stomach dropped into your ass.
"y/n. i mean miss l/n. the new- your new assistant." you stuttered through your sentences as if they were obstacles. god nothing looked better than dying in a hole. first impressions were everything, according to your mother, and you had already humiliated yourself.
"ah, yes. sherry said," he replied, standing up from his seat, his expression softening, but you were too terrified to even look him in the eye - actually your eyes found the floor to be incredibly interesting.
"i have your folders, sir- sherry sent me here with them. i can sort them out if you'd like," you began, rushing over to his desk and sorting through them already, your fingers frantically flicking through them all. maybe if you moved fast enough, he wouldn't notice your inability to deal with words.
"it's okay. it seems like they're sorted already." he said, his voice thinning as he watched your fingers maneuver rapidly through paper.
"yes sir, color-coded." you managed a small smile towards him. nothing was safer than color coding.
"just call me leon. i'm not assessing your usefulness in the first five minutes of our meeting, you know." he joked, placing his steady fingers on top of your fiddling ones, "you can breathe."
"sorry." you mumbled, stepping back to behind his desk.
"nervous?"
"no." you said, too quickly. you bit your lip, "is it that obvious?"
"you'll be fine." a smile tugged on his lips, "how about coffee to relax nerves?" he asked, his head tilting to the side.
you paused to try to understand how coffee could relax nerves but you agreed anyway. following him outside his office, you saw sherry give a small thumbs up among the labyrinth of desks and sea of workers. you exchanged with her an unsure crooked smile and she winked at you. traitor.
"sir- leon. the break room is down there-" your hand awkwardly pointed behind you.
"let's try the new coffee shop down the road. seems nicer in my opinion. if sherry told me you were starting today i would've..." he started to mumble to himself about welcoming you properly and that no one tells him anything around here.
you followed him quietly out of security and out of the dso building. the harsh cold nipped at your nose, making your ears sting. you tried to keep up with leon as you buttoned your coat up, the two of you walking along the pavement. all the trees were beginning to bloom again, green leaves attempting to free themselves from their cocoons. you liked this time of the year, the evenings becoming lighter - you could drive home in the sunset, the golden light blindingly bright, the warm caress of the sun rays brought you an abundance of happiness. but that is of course, only when you finished on time.
"you worked as an assistant before or..?" he started, noting how quiet your footsteps were, despite you wearing heels.
"yea, just for a little while when, uhm, sarah was off." you replied, fiddling with the button on your blazer.
"how did that go?"
"i did well. good enough." you answered, observing the way he placed himself on the outside of the pavement.
"heard that you did better than sarah herself." he huffed, catching your eyes as he looked down at you.
"i did not, she- i just reorganised a few things." you stuttered, a heat crawling up your neck.
"not what i heard." he shook his head, amused by your stubborness.
"well." you weren't sure what to say. "thank you?"
he laughed a little, "you're welcome."
he outstretched his arm to open the door to the coffee shop for you. the warmth of the shop made you sigh, your stiff fingers absorbing the heat.
"how can i help you today?" the cashier questioned, an eager smile on her face. you turned to leon who was already looking at you.
"order what you want, it's on me." he said, his hand on your shoulder, nudging you out of the way of passing customers.
giving him the faintest hint of a smile, you placed your order.
"name?" the cashier asked, seemingly patient.
"uh, y/n." you replied.
"could you repeat that again?"
you repeated yourself, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. she stared back at you blankly.
leon said your name louder, the cashier nodded and typed into the till. internally, you had smashed your head against the counter.
leon ordered his drink, his adam's apple protruding and his grey stubble coated his jaw, making you wonder how old he was. you noticed how his hair looked blonder under the warm light of the morning, and how the scowl on his face had softened into a smile. he felt your stare, and his eyes flicked back to you as he spoke to the cashier about some tab. caught, you snapped your head back the floor, because you forgot about how interesting floors can get.
you two waited by the window, sat on the stools.
"so, sherry taught you everything then?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
you nodded enthusiastically, "she's a great teacher."
"i'm sure you were a great student."
your face was on fire and you hoped that your entire face was not red.
your name is called, thank god, and leon goes to pick up the two cups, placing the smaller one in your hand.
"you live nearby?"
"yeah, just one of the villages nearby. only forty minutes." you mumbled, "it's nice. and quiet. i like it there."
"quiet's good. you don't get that around here." he nodded slightly.
the two of you continued talking, a few awkward silences, but as the two of you navigated through the conversations, you two got used to how the other works. you found out that leon drank his coffee black, no sugar; said the corniest jokes that somehow made you laugh anyway; collected leather jackets.
"if you're working with me, we need rules." he announced, tapping the table with his fingers.
you gulped.
"first rule. don't call me sir. it makes me feel old." he spoke with a gentleness. you noticed the way he addressed other co-workers as you walked out the building, it seemed like he reserved a softness towards you.
you nodded and trialled his name, "leon."
"there we go." he exhaled from his nose, watching you take a sip of your coffee. your face contorts briefly into a disgusted expression and he tried to hide the smirk that was playing on his lips.
"second rule. we don't ever come back here again, this coffee was shit." he finalised.
you nodded, "agreed."
"perfect." he placed his coffee cup down and the two of you left the place hastily.
you made it back to his office, settling behind your new desk. leon ran you through the things he needed you to cover over the next few weeks. as you were sat at your desk, leon hunched over you, clicking on your mouse to show you the right reports he needed you to work on. his chest awfully close to your face, was he always this close and personal? maybe it was something to ask sherry. or not. probably not. his concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and lips pinched, completely disappeared when he noticed you were looking at him.
it was weird sharing an office with only one other person, you could hear every move that leon made, his typing, him clicking his pen on and off, his sighing, the way his seat creaked as he sat back and him unscrewing his hidden whiskey flask. you pretended you didn't notice.
when the office was empty, your phone flashed, the words 'mom' shone brightly across the screen.
your heart rate accelerated.
leon finished up in the break room, making an americano to power him through his last few hours of work. he preferred working late, he hated going home and having too much time to think. as he made his way back to the office, he heard your voice. he paused for a second, not wanting to barge in. but there was no one else in the room, just you, your face illuminated by your phone screen.
"yes mom, i think so. i've actually been promoted to being an assistant of a well-known agent." you said, a chuffed smile on your face, nodding, "mhm, yeah i think it's going well. yes he is nice to me, he got me coffee too."
you continued as you spun around in your chair, "yes i know this is a big opportunity. i'm taking it seriously."
he could suddenly hear the other end of the call.
"you know your brother never needed this much time to prove himself, he was leading operations at your age." your mom said through the phone, her voice containing a thousand icicles.
leon watched the way your smile was gradually erased from your face.
"yes mom- i know, i'm trying my best." you assured her, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. your posture had completely crumpled.
"are you working late tonight?" your mom asked sternly.
"mhm."
"good. dedication is what will separate you from the rest. this is important." she replied, every word she spoke placed another weight on your back.
"i know. i- i better get back to work." you just wanted this call to end. it was foolish to think she was going to acknowledge your hard work. it was never well done, it was always do better.
"okay. call us this weekend, your father would like to know how things are going, this is important to him too you know."
"yes mom. bye mom." you ended the call with a sigh, chucking your phone back into your bag.
you didn't realise how badly your hand was shaking until you gripped your wrist with your other hand. fuck.
get your shit together.
leon walked into the office, like he didn't hear the tense call. you exchanged smiles with him and the both of you returned to your computers.
ignoring the waiting whiskey flask and ignoring the pressuring voices of your parents.
note: lemme know what you guys think, i don't know if i made their dynamic too boring... i think i made the reader more awkward than shy. again, i'm open to suggestions. part 2 is going to be pure cheesy office romance <3 but ofc with underlying issues, ya girl loves some angst. um sorry if some bits don't make sense im a bit drunk rn.. if u need something to look forward to... there will be VERY MUCH lots of praises within the smut of this series... teehee.
content: SMUT, 18+ nsfw, minors dni, maybe ooc, he's a perv with feelings, there's only one bed, honourable perv, slight possessive!dunk, virgin!dunk (but not for long >:)), brief somnophilia, oral f!receiving, finger sucking, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding + mentions of pregnancy, finger sucking again + cum eating, lowk went freak4freak with this one
notes: aaa sorry if the ending is rushed, i couldn't figure out how i wanted to end this kind-of series! as always i hope this was worth the wait 🥹 thank you guys soooo much for reading and interacting and being the sweetest patooties ever <3 ily guys damn (this is not the last we'll see of perv dunk bc my inbox is jam packed with horny thoughts for him heehee)
read part 1 here, part 2 here
18+ content, minors dni
dunk’s simply waiting for the right time. no, really, he is.
it’s been near a moon’s cycle since you’d caught him touching himself outside your tent, and you’d finished the job for him.
since then, you’ve touched him twice. once, with his back against a tree and his face shoved in the crook of your neck to quiet his moans.
the second, in a deserted alley of a town you’d been passing through. egg had run ahead to find you a seat in the local tavern. just as soon as his little bald head had turned the corner, you’d shoved the unsuspecting hedge knight into the shadows and fallen to your knees.
he is only slightly starting to worry that he has yet to kiss you. nor has he had the chance, the honour of pleasuring you — not for lack of trying either.
he tugs at your skirts while you lick your hands free of his spend, a sight that punches the air from his lungs and has his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you.
he sends you eyes over the fire when egg’s asleep, but either he’s not doing a very good job, or you’re ignoring him, when you simply yawn and rub at your own eyes, sending him a soft smile over the flames.
he wants more, though he knows he shouldn’t. he should take what you give and be happy with that. and he is happy, so unbelievably fucking happy that the woman of his dreams seems to actually feel the same.
the mere thought of you sends dunk’s heart fluttering and he finds himself wondering about you when you’re apart, what you’re doing and how you’re faring. aches to have your pretty eyes trained on him, and him only. dunk yearns to listen to you talk for hours, wants to carve a hole within himself to make a home for you, so he can better keep you safe, and with him always.
you start to notice how dunk seems permanently glued to you, standing with your back pressed to his chest whenever he gets to. doesn’t care about the odd looks thrown by villagers, or egg, who’s begun catching on to dunk’s clear-as-day pining.
he assumes the role of your man, and if anyone asks, he’ll claim the title, too. he can’t run the risk of a stronger, more capable knight swooping in and stealing you away. not ever, but certainly not before dunk has made you his in every way.
so, your hedge knight watches over you. makes sure you’re fed, gives you his cloak when you’re cold, listens when you need an ear — all with only the slightest ulterior motive.
things come to a head in king’s landing, of all places. you’d simply been passing through, heads down and hoods up, but egg’s rotten luck had him running headfirst into ser donnel of the kingsguard by the town square.
the prince had quickly been called back to the red keep for a… reunion with his father, the first ever since he’d snuck off (the second time) from ashford meadow several moons ago.
“probably best if i wait for you out here, egg,” dunk says as two city watch knights flank the boy. in his tattered, patchwork cloak and tunic, he looks less like a prince and more like a peasant about to be shackled and taken away.
egg makes a face of protest, just as dunk shoots you a look, pleading for your interruption — brows raised with pretty blue eyes so wide it almost makes you laugh.
“he’s right, love,” you pat egg’s shoulder placatingly, and the young prince directs those puppy dog eyes at you. dunk’s glad for it, because all three of you know he would’ve fallen victim to the pitiful look.
“well, then, why don’t you join me? i could show you around the castle, and you might even meet my brother, prince daeron –” egg’s eyes knowingly cut to dunk. and, easy as he is, dunk takes the bait.
“that is if daeron has not already drowned in his cups,” dunk mutters quietly, mindful of the white cloaks a few paces away. he glares at egg when the boy snickers, exchanging an amused look with you.
“as fun as that sounds, i reckon i shall stay with ser duncan,” you sigh wistfully, “he’ll need one of us to keep his head on straight.”
egg nods solemnly, lips pursed as dunk makes a sound of offence. the knight’s indignation falls upon deaf ears as you bid egg goodbye with a hug and a fond pinch to his cheek. with one last stern ‘be good’, egg leaves with the gold cloaks and ser donnel, then it’s just you and the hedge knight in the bustling streets of king’s landing.
it’s your first time in the capital, and the sights and sounds are near overwhelming. when you finally tear your eyes away from the sloping orange roofs, you find dunk already watching you.
wordlessly, his hand cups your elbow, drawing you close just as a crowd of children — their heights barely reaching your knees — rush past where you’d once stood. he sees the cogs turning in your head as you catch up, eyes darting from the giggling children and back to him. he zeroes in on the way your lips spread wide into a grin.
“stay close,” he says, fighting his own smile when your hand slides down his arm and into his. he lets you lace your fingers together, and nod up at him to lead the way.
—
the inn is quaint. those were your words, as dunk’s had been a grumbled curse of how he swears he’s been overcharged.
the building is a rickety old thing, one that probably hasn’t ever seen nicer days. the woman at the bar’s eyes squint between you and the hulking man plastered to your side.
dunk flushes at the head-to-toe examination, wondering if the innkeeper might have the wrong idea of you. his jaw tightens at the notion of anything untoward on your behalf, as if he hasn’t spent half his days with you imagining the untoward in great detail.
then, as if she remembers she doesn’t care–
“i’ve got the one room.” the woman says, dropping a key onto the splintered surface.
dunk goes stock still beside you, chest caught on an inhale, aborted as he sorts through the thoughts running through his head.
one room. one bed? with you. only you.
his sharp exhale empties his lungs to the point he has to grip the counter to remain upright.
“wonderful,” you chirp, exchanging your coin for the key.
dunk follows you up the stairs in a daze.
the door opens with a creak, and there, under a low ceiling, sits a lone bed. the sight of it taunts him. dunk has force himself to hold off on the lecherous ideas he knows he’ll conjure up of you on this bedm — at least until later.
to his credit and — unbeknownst to him — your dismay, he does not gather you up to the bed and kiss you silly.
a true testament to his willpower as he molds himself to the wall, watching you get comfortable. going through the motions — draping your cloak on a hook, lighting the single candle on the end table and cracking the window with a small sigh — tortuously domestic, wreaking havoc on dunk’s heart.
“dunk?” you turn towards him, eyeing him strangely, as one would a man pressed into the corner of a room.
“yes, m’lady.” dunk nods, standing at attention, ready for anything.
“is the corner you’ve claimed more favourable than sharing a bed with me?” you question him as you perch yourself comfortably upon the mattress. his throat bobs as he swallows, mouth ajar in a silent response.
it’s so quiet, dunk can hear his own heartbeat. worries you can hear it, too.
your head tilts curiously, smiling because you know too well what the issue is — you just like seeing your hedge knight squirm.
“come to bed, ser,” you pat the covers beside you. dunk doesn’t know if he’s imagining the sultry lilt to your voice, “it’s been a long day, has it not?”
you begin unlacing your corset like it’s nothing to blink at, as if it’s not sending dunk to an early grave to watch you undress before him.
dunk’s eyes squeeze shut, and in the sudden darkness, he hears your teasing giggle. he shakes his head, both at your brazenness and his own hesitation. he’s seen you in your shift times before. he’s slept beside you in your tent and hasn’t fared any worse — hasn’t accidentally mounted you in his sleep yet.
but he worries things will be different within these four walls. he can’t remember the last time he slept on a bed, least of all next to someone he already struggles to keep his hands off of.
“relax, dunk,” you sigh, long and amused. there’s a soft ruffling as you slip under the covers. the man dares a peek, shoulders sagging in relief — disappointment? — when he finds you curled up with the blankets pulled over your shoulders, tucked beneath your chin as you blink up at him.
the other half of the bed — his side — remains empty. dunk sucks in a sharp breath.
“m’lady, please, i can take the floor–” for his own good, and yours.
“that would be foolish, even for you,” you giggle through a yawn, burying your face deeper into the pillow. dunk’s chest deflates, all fight leaving him at the lazy flutter of your lashes, how your eyelids droop with the weight of keeping them open — of keeping your attention on him even in your last waking moments. something warm tugs at his heart.
you’re fast asleep when he finally decides to get in bed. he sheds his belt and his scabbard with practiced discipline, deliberately lightening his footsteps so as to not wake his lady in bed.
he takes a deep breath before joining you under the covers. the wood of the bedframe creaks under the added weight, moreso when you wiggle closer, unconsciously drawn to the warmth radiating off his skin.
dunk scarcely dares to breathe, entirely unsure of what he’s supposed to do when your leg is thrown over his hip, pulling close by your arm around his waist — clinging to him in your slumber.
dunk tries not to think about how the new position has you opened up for him. he tells himself that’s not your core warming his abdomen, and he really ought to go to sleep. tries his utter hardest to tamp down the heat simmering in his belly, because he can’t do this — not now, not like this, when you’re at your most vulnerable. he would never do that to you, not until you allow it.
dunk falls asleep tracing your features, counting your breaths and matching them with his own.
—
the candle has burned itself out when he wakes again. dunk blinks groggily in the darkness, still too out of it to piece together what had pulled him from sleep.
he smells you, the familiar notes of your skin makes him breathe deep, wanting to burrow closer to the source. your hair tickles his chin with every steady breath, your parted lips puffing humid air against his chest.
dunk’s pulse stutters when the dull ache between his legs registers in his half-awake state. he’s so hard it hurts, everything pulled up tight as his cock drools a mess within his trousers.
he groans, low and raspy, when the ache flares once more. it’s instinctual, his hand slipping between your bodies to cup himself, hoping to relieve the pressure. in his sleep-deprived haze, he doesn’t realise until it’s too late, the cause of it all.
your hips grind long, slow circles against his navel. with your arm and leg latched around him, he has nowhere to run except towards the feeling.
the back of his hand drags against the front of your shift, gasping when he feels the soaked-through fabric. he wonders how long you’ve been this way — are you always this wet?
dunk thinks he hears angels sing when he brings his hand back up and he can see traces of you glistening on his skin by the pale moonlight. mind fuzzy with sleep and rotten desire, his tongue darts out, intending to lick your slick off his skin the way you’ve done to him times before, when he hears it.
a quiet whimper of his name. muffled by his tunic to your mouth, but he hears it like you’ve shouted in his ear.
he freezes with his hand to his lips. here he’d thought you’d still been asleep, unaware of his torment. but you’ve been awake, chasing your own pleasure in utter disregard of the agony you’re putting him through? this whole time, he’s been worried for your propriety, when the concern should’ve been for his own.
dunk frowns, hand dropping to your hip to still your movements with a firm grasp. only when you make a confused sort of noise, and lift your head from his chest, does he realise that, oh, you were asleep.
“hm- dunk? what-” your voice cracks when it hits you, and he doesn’t know why he expects you to pull away, to roll over and go back to sleep.
your clit throbs in time with your pulse, just as a rivulet of slick runs down the inside of your thigh. you make a sound, doused with need. you press even closer to dunk, your centre just brushing the tip of his bulge.
dunk exhales shakily, fingers curling at the bunched-up fabric draped across your thighs. your head tilts back, finding his blue eyes turned black in the moonlight.
“please,” he whispers. not sure what he’s asking for — all of it, most like.
you hear his breathing, strained as the fabric stretched between his fingers. your own hand comes up to curl around his jaw, a thumb brushing over his cheek and the day-old stubble there.
dunk forgets to breathe at the first press of your lips to his. he holds it until your tongue brushes at his bottom lip, and he parts his mouth in a shocked gasp. lets you guide him, angle his face this way, suck his tongue that way.
he kisses the way you’d expected. sloppy, unsure and infuriatingly earnest. it drives you crazy, the way he chases your lips each time you withdraw for breath, as though he wishes to use his own to sustain you.
your hands tremble with the eagerness to get his tunic off, whining when he’s too slow to lift his arms for you. dunk would tease you for it, but your lips are trailing down his neck, sucking and biting as your hands roam his exposed torso.
scratching at the dusting of hair across his pecs, your nails scratching parallel lines down the softness of his belly. that light layer of pudge under your palms makes you moan into his neck, pushing him to roll onto his back.
the sight of you atop him is one he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over. the sleeve of your shift has slipped off one shoulder, baring the swell of your breast. he glances up for permission and sees the spit slicking your lips — his or yours, he’s unsure.
his clumsy hands tug at the other sleeve, freeing your breasts. he takes one in a calloused palm, burying his face into the softness of the other, mouth already opened as he goes to take it into his wet mouth.
the sound you make goes straight to his cock, and he’s sure you can feel the way he twitches beneath the cleft of your ass.
the salt of your skin is addictive, and he’s already scheming how he can get your perfect tits in his mouth again. dunk grips you tighter when you try to pull back, arms looped around your waist to crush you against him.
he sighs in contentment when your hands bury in his hair, paradoxically holding him in place where he suckles at you while trying to squirm away.
you keen his name, hips gyrating on his clothed length to snap him out of his stupor, a reminder of where you really need him.
“will you let me touch you?” dunk asks, panting, his voice rough. your answering nod is but a dip of your head, already leaning forward once more to kiss him.
“need to hear you,” he murmurs against your lips, smoothing your hair out of your face. “say it.”
you press your forehead to his, whisper your assent. “do whatever you wish to me, ser duncan.”
so he does — he lays you under him, spreading your legs wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders, and drags your shift the rest of the way off your body.
when your pussy, bare and glistening for him, clenches around nothing, dunk dives in, and what he lacks in experience (or knowledge, at that), he makes up for in ample enthusiasm.
he follows your hiccuped instructions without question — higher, slower, right there — sucking your pearl into his mouth, flattening his tongue and letting you buck your hips against his face.
“dreamed about this,” he speaks against your folds. “been wantin’ to do this since i first saw you.”
warmth floods your belly when you recall how he’d barely been able to look you in the eye for the first moon cycle after you’d met.
“oh?” you sigh, voice giddy as light bubbles in your chest, “why didn’t you?”
dunk groans. his chin is soaked with you, and he loves it. he shoves his face in deeper, his nose nudging at your clit while you cry out above him.
“didn’t think you’d want me to,” dunk admits, made candid by the slick he drinks from you. his thumb draws tight circles on your clit. “big oaf like me could only dream.”
your head shakes vehemently. “not an- oh, gods- oaf,” you pant, fingers curling in the sheets and in his hair. he whines at the sharp tug and your impassioned reassurance.
“is this– is it better than your dreams?” you gasp on the last word, eyes rolling back in your head at the tension building in your pussy.
“aye,” dunk simply shakes his head, chuckling as he turns his head and presses a kiss to your thigh. “nothin’s better than this”
satisfied with how you’ve gone speechless, he gets back to work. tongue dipping into your hole as his thumb rubs at you steadily, hurling you straight past the edge. your back arches when it hits you full-force, anchoring your fingers in his hair like a lifeline.
dunk moans loud and unabashed when your juices flood his mouth. the vibrations only serve to make your legs shake, thighs attempting to clamp shut around dunk’s head but he keeps you open with those big palms.
he peeks up at you from below, eyes squinted as he smiles up at the bewildered look on your face, staring up at the ceiling with your hand still in his hair, cursing yourself for not letting him do this sooner.
dunk takes your hand from his hair, draws it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your palm, dotting a line up to your fingers. the pad of your index pulls at his bottom lip, and you watch with blown-out pupils as he sucks them into his mouth, tongue curling around your digits the way they’d done your cunt just minutes before.
you clench around nothing, and the emptiness hurts. his hips visibly twitch against the bed when you grab his wet hand, desperate to even out the playing field, cleaning his fingers of your release with your own tongue.
his eyes go wide, barking out an astonished laugh. folds himself over you as he takes you in a kiss, sighing in satisfaction at the taste of you on both your tongues.
your hand trails a familiar path down his stomach. squeezing at the shape of him through his trousers, grinning at the blooming wet patch that greets you each time you’ve touched him like this.
dunk’s shoulders tense where he holds himself up. he shivers, but his body reads hesitant — his face tilted away though his hips betray him, pushing into your touch.
“have you done this before?” you ask him gently, playing with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. dunk’s eyes peel open, lips a set line when he shakes his head. he doesn’t want to see the disappointment, the ridicule that he thinks is coming.
“you may mock me,” he sighs, averting his eyes, though everywhere he looks on your naked body seems to send another twitch to his pulsing cock.
you calm him with nails scratching up and down his bare back. “i wouldn’t. though i do wonder how a man as handsome as you has made it this long without a lover.”
dunk scoffs, and you feel the way the tension melts from his muscles.
“you need not flatter me,” he kisses your cheek placatingly, as if entertaining some outlandish claim.
“you don’t believe me,” you accuse, pinching the fat of his ass and ignoring his hiss of protest. “i suppose you’ll just have to see.”
dunk nods, eyes heavy as he finds his way to your mouth again, entirely addicted to the way your tongue feels sliding against his. “yes, please.”
you let him kiss you messily for a moment longer, before he stands to shuck off his ruined trousers. his cock is a pretty shade of red, heavy and standing against his belly. you find yourself wondering, not for the first time, how it’ll fit.
he’s back on you before he lets himself grow shy beneath your gaze. slots himself between your legs, his cock dribbling a sticky trail atop your mound. with his broad chest pressed to yours, he, too, wonders if it’ll fit.
dunk’s fat cockhead nudging your clit with his little twitches is nearly enough to have you rolling him over and fucking yourself onto him, but the blissed-out, wonderous look on his face stops you.
you want to see how he does it. how he looks when he lets go, when he realises you’re offering yourself up to him.
“fuck me, ser,” you bat your lashes, lips curling sweetly around his title.
dunk notches himself at your entrance with a shaky hand. the first snug inch of your wet, hot walls has him doubling over. he knows he’ll never be able to go back to using his hand after this.you hide your wince at the stretch in his chest, breathing fast and deep through the initial burn.
“oh, gods,” dunk whimpers like he’s in pain, gritting his teeth at the urge to shove all the way in. but he knows he’s bigger, and he has eyes to see the tears gathering at your lashline.
“am i hurting you, my lady?” his voice is strained, and it only makes you wetter to have him still concerned for you even at this moment.
dunk blinks at the answering surge of wetness around him, and finds little resistance pushing the rest of his way in. he groans, loud and surprised, because you feel like heaven wrapped around him like this, and he can see the imprint of his cock within you.
he rests a gentle hand atop the bump, stroking his length through your belly. it shouldn’t be as erotic as it is, but the sight of it has your walls clenching down like a vice. the sensation of you gripping him has his hips jolting, thrusting into you sharply before he can control it.
the needy moan that tears out of your throat has him doing it again. and again, and again. until he falls into a toe-curling rhythm that has you crying out his name for the whole inn to hear, that is if they can’t already hear the filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and the way your pussy weeps for him.
“fuck,” your sob is wet when dunk’s pistoning thrusts turn to deep grinds, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock catch on your clit. he wants to see how deep you can take him, how much space he can take up in your body.
“gods, you’re perfect,” he grunts, dropping to his elbows to lick into your mouth. he grins when you can barely kiss him back, mouth agape as he ruins you for everyone else.
you cum with his lips on yours, eagerly claiming all your sounds for himself. the delicious fluttering of your walls and how you clamp down like a vice has his hips stuttering. honourable as ever, he manages to stutter out–
“w-where, m’lady? where can i–”
your ankles cross at the dip in his lower back, cunt still twitching with the aftershocks as you drag him down so his entire weight is laid over you. “spill inside me, ser,” you gasp, tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts, “‘m yours.”
for a moment, dunk’s vision whites out, and he sees what he thinks is a prophetic vision of you, swollen with his child, tits heavy with milk to feed his babe. chasing after a smaller version of him, only with your hair and his eyes–
dunk cums with a broken moan of your name, flooding your womb with hot spurts of his seed as his hips follow the instinct of pushing it further into your pussy. you sigh at the feeling of being so wonderfully full, fingers carding through his hair to soothe him on the comedown.
he’s still cumming, so much it spills from the seal formed by his cock, trickling down the crease of your thigh. dunk pants like he’s run a marathon, lifting his head the same time he gingerly withdraws from the loving heat of you.
he looks like he’s about to speak— probably profess his undying love, knowing him — but the sight of the white ropes leaking out of your hole has his brain go quiet.
he collects what’s escaped of your mixed releases, and you watch lazily as his features contort in pleasure when it reaches his tongue. his digits shine when he pulls them from his mouth.
he repeats the motion, in a trance, this time bringing his sticky fingers up to your lips. with nothing more than a scandalised huff, you clean him off, moaning low at the briny taste and the feeling of his thick fingers in your mouth.
“y’know, it won’t take if you keep that up.”
dunk’s brows furrow, seeming to thoroughly think it through, not even questioning how you’d managed to guess what he’d been so caught up in — he’d accepted long ago that you’re some kind of mind reader.
“hm,” dunk hums thoughtfully, hand pausing in its path along your spine-
I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔
I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊
Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑
THE FOOL CARD - Josh Washington x F!Reader
AO3 // Spotify Playlist
WORD COUNT - 3.1k
SUMMARY - You've been sneaking around with your best friend's older brother since summer. If it's supposed to be easy and casual, why does it feel so foolish?
TAGS/WARNINGS - friends with benefits to lovers, female anatomy reader, teasing, alcohol/drinking, cursing, unprotected p in v sex, brief mentions of asphyxiation, creampie, josh has feelings first, dialogue heavy?
NOTES - this is a self-indulgent fantasy smutty dialogue pracitce that isn't edited bc who has time for that these days. ignore overuse/repeat words if u love me. fan of josh since '15 only now i have the ability to do something about it
“You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?” Josh asks, leaning against the doorway, casually sipping a beer.
You glance up from the cards spread out in front of you. Ashley sits opposite you, deer-eyes round with awe from when she held off of your every word, hinting at her friendship with Chris potentially becoming something more. A small smile grows on your face as you gather the silky cards together and slot them back into place.
“You’re not just saying that because you’re scared, are you, Joshy boy?”
With another sip, the corner of his mouth ticks up with intrigue. He shoulders off the doorway and saunters over, eyes never leaving you.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” he says cooly, sliding onto the stool that Ashley scoots out of. She shoots you a knowing look, a glimmer in the ring of her green eyes, a flush to her cheeks as she scurries back into the chatter-filled living room.
“Tell me,” he begins, lounging back in the wooden chair with a low, shadowed look on his face. A long sip of beer, a generous amount of lash-lidded eye contact. “What does my future hold?”
“Your future?” You smirk, skillfully shuffling the cards in your hand, cheeks warm when you lose the competition of holding his confident stare. The tarot cards are glossy and thick, a high-quality deck gilded with gold that you’d nabbed from a crystal shop that stunk of coconut incense and white sage.
A card flies from the deck, landing face-down. You reach and flip it over, revealing The Tower—a crumbling structure, lit with a devastating fire.
“Sudden, eruptive change.”
He leans closer, interest peaked. “What kind of change?”
“Well… let’s ask the cards to clarify,” you continue, reshuffling until another card leaps out. You pick it up, revealing a heart, daggered with three, long swords. “The Three of Swords. Heartache, and pain.”
He scoffs humorously. “The only heartbreaking and painful thing about this week was Chris eating my leftover pizza.”
You hum, unconvinced. Another card.
Ten of Cups reversed. Familial despair.
“It feels like a warning,” you say, trying not to look at the blatant picture. Familial grieving, pain, loss. Clearing your throat, you glance back up at him. “Almost like everything you know is about to change.”
“Hm. Seems ominous,” he replies, entirely not convinced. “What about my near future?” He perks a suggestive brow, licks the dry of his lips. “What are the cards saying about tonight?”
You roll your eyes, feigning indifference, but your hands tremble when you pull two cards. The Moon, and The Lovers.
“Hmm… looks like the cards are saying…” you faux scan the cards, then glance over your shoulder to ensure there aren’t any eavesdroppers. When you’re satisfied they’re distracted, you return with your chin propped on two folded hands and a small, mischievous smile.
“Your room. Midnight?”
His lips stretch into a grin. “Y’know, if the cards keep saying things like this, I might just become a believer.”
You mirror his smile, tucking yourself in tight as you lean closer to the counter.
Hannah walks in, playing with her fingers nervously, and you instinctively lean back. She glances between you, Josh, the cards, and twists her feet against the tile seams.
“You want a go, Han?” You ask. She nods, but appears apprehensive.
“Come on, Josh, client confidentiality. Get outta here. Scram.”
Josh laughs, once. “Alright. I’ll leave you ladies to it.”
Your eyes flicker to him for a moment. He nods with a poker face like steel, raises his beer in acknowledgement of his sister, and leaves the room without a second look.
It’s cruel, how he walks away. Cruel like it’ll never mean more to him.
Ashley, face pink from cocktails, corners you when you return from the readings, hand pawing at your arm.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Ash. What’s up?”
She leans closer, voice lowering. “Do you have a crush on Josh?”
You’re mid-sip of wine when she asks, and you sputter a cough.
“Excuse me?”
She grins. “You know. Do you like like him?”
Ever the butt of the joke, your defensiveness flares like the prickle of young flames. Is she teasing you? Your fingers tighten around the glass stem.
“No, I know what you meant,” you reply, face warming. “Um, no, Ash. I don’t have a crush on Josh.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right? I could totally set you guys up. I mean, I told you about my crush on…” she glances around, tactically lowering her voice. “…Chris. So, you can trust me!”
“Ash, I think everybody knows about your crush on Chris.”
She blinks like a doe in headlights. “No, they don’t,” her gaze slips away. “Do they?”
You sip from your glass. “Everybody except Chris, apparently.”
She whacks your arm gently. “Shut up! He might hear you!” She scolds, embarrassed. You chuckle to yourself, eyes drawn to your cup as you mindlessly swirl the drink.
“But, seriously, it’s probably good that you don’t have a crush on Josh. Hannah and Beth would kill you!” She laughs.
Your blood turns icy as your mind is suddenly overwhelmed by a flurry of hook-up flashbacks, and you take a healthy, guilt-numbing swig of your drink before replying.
“Haha. Yeah. You’re probably right about that.”
Two glasses of wine later, you excuse yourself for the bathroom and veer off path when the coast is clear to Josh’s room. His door is ajar, feeding through a slim slice of warm lamp lighting onto the dark hallway.
A familiar routine— a scratch for the itch, a hit for the craving. Can’t keep your hands off him, not since the first time. You’d be in so much trouble if the twins knew you were hooking up with their older brother, but the scandal of it all gives you hot flashes between the thighs.
Hands tickle up your sides when you sneak in. A flat palm over your shoulder to click the door shut.
“You’re late,” he teases.
You stifle your giggles. “Yeah, well, unless you want everybody finding out about whatever we’re doing, then you’ll have to be patient for me to find my moment to sneak off.”
He closes the space between you, pressing against your chest to tilt you against the dresser, feeling small beneath his frame. Knees locked around his hips when you hop up.
“Would it be so bad?” He murmurs, immediately kissing along your neck, hands greedy on your waist. “You know… if they knew? About us?”
Us. A word like hot coals, fingers instinctively recoiling from the topic. Excited butterflies turned to anxious wasps in your belly. Casual moments bleeding into lingering stares, “we’re just friends” to eye contact and hand-holding when he makes you cum.
You think Emily knows. She’s quick-witted and perceptive whenever you leave the room, eyes sharp like a bristled cat ready to pounce.
“What’s there to know? We’re just friends,” you say, and he hums sceptically in response. You clutch his shoulders, warm beneath wine-numb fingers. “Besides, Hannah and Beth would kill me—”
“So, that’s it?” He grins, pulling away just enough that you can feel his breath fanning across your clavicle. You smell alcohol and peppermint gum and your head spins from the proximity.
“I’m just your dirty little secret?”
He’s making fun of you.
“Shut up,” you whine, breath laboured from the tingly feeling he produces against your skin with his mouth. Arousal so severe you feel like you’re sixteen again, a hormonal ball of teenage puppy fat and insecurity.
“Fine. How’d Hannah’s reading go? What’d she wanna know?”
You sigh with frustration, trying to nudge your hips closer to his. “Josh, please don’t talk about your sister when I’m trying to fuck you.”
“Oh, just like that, huh? Like I’m a piece of meat?”
“Isn’t that what you signed up for, pretty boy?”
He nips harder. “You think I’m pretty?”
A severe eye roll. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“Well, I can be pretty convincing,” he mutters, pushing the hemline of your skirt up your thigh. “Your dress is cute. You wear it for me?”
You had— all butterflies and anticipation at the thought of easy access. A short, black milk-maid thing, as well as enduring an everything shower the night before, sore from vanilla-sugar exfoliation. Soft for him.
The words escape you in a stuttered breath when he thumbs up to your panty line, tipping it to the side.
“You wish.”
He noses against the column of your throat when he slips a finger against you, shuddery breaths when the slick gathers on his palm.
“Always so wet,” he strains, tipsy touches circling your clit, pressing into the honeyed entrance. “You’re insatiable, you know that? Can’t get enough of me?”
No.
“Mm… don’t flatter yourself. Consider it convenient.”
He tilts his head. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”
“Stop— stop being such a dick,” you pant, muscles seizing against the sudden onslaught of building pleasure.
“Thought you liked me a little mean.”
He slides a singular finger into you, all molten and tingly as he knuckle-fucks you.
“Oh God, shut up.”
He sucks pressure onto your neck, affectionate with a hand on the small of your back. Your insides clench, aching with the urge to be filled, a desire his fingers would never be fully be able to satisfy.
You palm the growing mound behind his denim. “Need to feel you.”
He leans back, looking at you boyishly, pausing the work of his wrist.
“Right now?” His voice peaks. “But you’re hardly ready—”
“Gotta be quick.” You tug on his belt buckle and challenge his eye contact with lowered eyelids. “I can take it.”
You’ve rendered him stun-locked, shy.
He blinks. “Fuck— shit, okay,” he reaches for the zipper on his jeans, already steel-hard when he releases himself. He nudges closer, but you’ve never done it like this before. Not without a condom.
“This okay?” He asks hurriedly, the strain to his voice a sobering splash.
The wine blurs the line you promised not to cross. You glance down to where he fists himself, hastily spreading your slick across his length, and your lower belly flips.
You nod, bottom lip captured between your teeth. “Fuck. Please.”
“You sure?”
“Josh—”
“Alright, alright, needy.”
He slips a hand over the curve of your ass, propping you firmly on the dresser and nestling further between your thighs, notching his tip against your wet heat before pushing in. A sharp inhale accompanied by a hand on his chest, urging him to go slower.
It’s a tight stretch as you adjust to the weight of him pressing inside you, nails digging reflexively into the meat of his shoulders.
“Easy, I got you,” he murmurs, hand sliding up from guiding himself inside of you to the wall beside your head. His mouth captures yours as he sinks deeper, a balm to soothe the sting.
You don’t normally kiss. Not often, usually only when you’re drunk. It felt too intimate at first, too weird— because two “just friends” fucking each other’s brains out certainly wasn’t, but you sigh-melt when his tongue slips past the parting of your lips.
He rolls his hips shallowly once, twice— until the burn turns honey-silk, sheathed heavily in your velvet. He’s panting when he leans back, reaching up for purchase, something to ground himself. He instinctively goes for your waist, second-guesses himself, and leans a hand against the wall.
Dark eyes search for yours in the haze. “You alright?”
You slide your hands underneath his plaid shirt. “You trying to be romantic or something?”
He rolls his eyes. “Quit it.”
You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing a grin, and dig the ball of your foot into his ass to pull him closer.
“Get on with it, then.”
He obliges with a groan, pistoning slowly at first. A gentle back-and-forth, slickening himself up all sweet for you, precarious where he tries not to make the dresser rock too much. Helplessly his fingers cling to you, digging into the plush of your thigh, thumbing along the crease where the skin meets your hip.
He reaches to cradle your face and parts your kiss-wet lips with a thumb. You suck him into the cup of your mouth, tongue curling around his skin. You’ve never blowed him before but you’re sure he pictures you pretty on your knees with the way his eyes darken.
His thumb releases with a pop and he presses it against your clit, puffy with need.
The rhythm catches up, and soon you’re panting as you rock against one another. Arms clinging to the broad spread of his shoulders, legs squeezing around his waist. You could stay here forever, you think— drunk on the way he fucks you like he cares what you feel, what you think. Attentive, giving. Better than any exes and you’re sure he knows it— why else would you stick around?
Your best friend’s older brother.
“We should stop doing this,” you concede, words strung high across a moan. “Ashley thinks I’ve got a crush on you.”
A tilt of his head. Something flickers on his face, sparkles in his eye when his lip quirks up. Amusement.
“That right?” He breathes, teeth flashing. “Cute.”
“Jesus, right there—”
Panting breaths melt together between a symphony of curses. A roll of your eyes as your head tilts forward, nails digging into his tense biceps, bracing yourself against the pulse at your centre as his spit-silky thumb circles your clit.
He swallows thickly, throat bobbing against your temple. “Well… do you?”
You pull back from the crook of his neck you’d buried yourself into. “What?”
“Have a crush on me?”
You sock his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.”
He grins, followed by a roll of his hips. “Oh, right, because that’ll make things weird.”
“Just— just keep doing that, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Footsteps and laughter.
Your eyes widen, nerves doused with adrenaline. “Someone’s coming—”
Josh’s hand snaps up and clamps across your mouth, his hips shifting to continue their pace but careful to mind knocking against the dresser. Eyes low and dark as he leans closer, cheeks flushed as he squeezes your face.
From outside the door, “Yo, where’s Josh?”
“He said he was going to get more beer!”
It’s Chris and Mike.
“He’s been gone for a while. Do you think he’s passed out in his room?”
Your brows scrunch, torn between the thrill of fear and pleasure. A moan squeaks behind his palm, every thrust a countdown. Josh mime-shushes you, licking his lips and glancing over at the door as footsteps pass by. Nothing but a piece of wood between you and a secret spilt.
You whimper, pussy turning to liquid heat between your thighs, fizzy with ecstasy, clamping down hard around his hips. Cobra tight around the lava sink and drag of his cock.
“Nah, man. Let’s check the wine cellar.”
The footsteps continue down the hallway, easing your adrenaline with each step as you turn gelatinous in his arms. He releases you at once and the oxygen runs to your head with a dizzying force, eyes wild as they address you.
“Did you…?”
“Mhm.” It pitches high, and his eyes widen with the realisation.
“You liked that. Do you want us to get caught?”
You tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Maybe I just liked you choking me.”
His brows raise. “Wait. Really?”
You smile wickedly in response, leaving the question unanswered— you aren’t trying to give him any ideas, but you feel that bubbly-wistfulness in your belly at the thought of his hand around your throat the next time he takes you.
You’re not meant to daydream or hope for the next time; this was only supposed to be a one-time thing— just shy of your nineteenth birthdays, fucking yourselves through a dry spell, but you’ve been jumping his bones since the Washington’s invited you to stay with them last summer and he showed you how to smoke your first joint.
You’re a sweet girl, their parents said. Hannah and Beth couldn’t have been more excited that their best friend was coming to stay for six weeks. They hadn’t suspected a thing.
That was last August. Now you’re here with the others for the annual winter getaway— the lodge all to yourselves, and you’d not even lasted a night before you’d tip-toed into his room at 1 AM.
Josh grunts into your neck, cock twitching within you, sliding in and out of your slickened pussy like water.
“Where should I…”
A vulnerable split-second of eye contact. Shivery energy zips between you and something atmospherically shifts, like a moon falling into orbital alignment. The space behind your rib cage becomes soft and malleable, gravity tugging on your heartstrings.
The Fool Card.
A dangerous cliff edge that you’re too wrapped up in the moment to take mind of. You’re already in this deep— might as well fling yourself over it.
You dig your fingers into him. “Inside.”
His eyes flash wide. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah— fuck, Josh, let me feel you.”
“Oh, shit. Okay. So fuckin’ hot.”
He thrusts with more urgency now, brows knit, teeth bared. Sharp when they slide along the skin of your shoulder.
He releases a cute grunt when he comes, nose buried in your neck, cock pulsing strongly inside of you. A sharp little rut of his hips, pushing himself deep, milking dry what remains.
Panting breaths mingle together, misty with post-sex sweat. You stroke the back of his exertion-damp head, cradled gently against your shoulder, his knuckles white as they brace against the dresser.
This is usually the time when you clear your throats and tug your clothes back on, but when he lifts his head to look at you, there’s something soft and sticky-sweet in the post-clarity lax of his features, the seraphic upturn of his brows.
“Can I kiss you?”
You blink at him. “Josh…”
Something visibly deflates on his face. “Sorry, sorry, I overstepped, I forgot the 'rules'—”
You grab him by the neck, thumb affectionately along the line of his jaw, and capture his mouth against yours. When you kiss he’s still sheathed to the hilt, chests pressing together, and you suddenly don’t feel so drunk anymore.
Everything narrows down, vision tunnelling. You’re suddenly not in a lodge with all of your friends, not propped up on his dresser, not just friends with benefits. You can pretend in the safety of his bedroom, making out like lovers, because when it’s this dark it’s just him, him, him, an utter mind-reeling consumption, so warm and soft and tender you feel shame trickle down your spine.
It’s not supposed to feel this good.
Spit strings between your mouths when you pull back.
“We should… go back to the others. Probably wondering where we are.”
He pants, gazing down at your lips. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We should do that.”
It’s cruel, the way he looks at you. Cruel like this means more to him, too.
PAIRING: ghostface!joshwashington x gn!reader
WARNINGS: it's pretty self explanatory, no use of y/n
GENRE: horror? bro idk
SONG INSPIRATION: static by isq [slowed]
WORD COUNT: 827
REQUESTED: yes (kinda)
NOTE: a very quick one in the name of halloween
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
halloween night feels like any other. outside, trick or treaters call out in muffled excitement, but inside, you’re content wrapped in a blanket on your couch, lights low, fully absorbed in your annual scream marathon.
there’s a thrill in these movies you can’t get anywhere else. the tension, the mystery, the masked killers with their twisted games. you’d never admit it to most people, but there’s something oddly compelling about ghostface, about the mask, the danger.
as you sink into the cushions, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. glancing over, you see a message from josh.
josh: what’s up?
a small smile pulls at your lips. he’s usually the one making plans, always rounding everyone up for something, but tonight, it’s just you, the killers on screen.
you: just watching some movies.
josh: home alone?
you: i can handle myself.
his response arrives almost instantly.
josh: sure you can.
you frown slightly, something about it caught your attention. he’s not usually so cryptic. for a second, you wonder if he’s being serious. but it’s josh, if he were pulling something, he’d probably hint at it first.
you shrug it off, getting lost in the movie again, until the lights flicker, then the whole apartment went dark.
grabbing your phone, instinctively switching on the flashlight.
your phone buzzes with another message.
unknown: don’t feel so brave now, do you?
a chill crawls up your spine. you stare at the message, logic giving way to a nervous edge as you scan the room, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. you swallow, convincing yourself it’s just josh playing tricks on you.
then you hear a knock on your door. three steady, slow knocks that echo through your dark, empty apartment.
you freeze. it’s halloween. it’s probably just a prank. right?
your pulse thudding in your ears as you get up, each step cautious. “josh?” you call, half expecting him to reply.
silence.
you step closer to the door, hand resting on the handle. opening it, you’re met with the empty hallway. but as you turn back into the apartment, your breath catches.
a figure stands in your hallway, draped in a black robe, face obscured by the unmistakable white mask of ghostface. your blood runs cold, heart racing as you stare, unable to fully process what’s happening. you’re rooted in place, caught somewhere between fear and disbelief.
the figure doesn’t move. he just stands there, watching you, tilting his head in a way that’s almost… curious. “josh?” you whisper, voice trembling, hoping for an answer.
but they don’t respond. instead, they take a single step forward, then another, each slow movement deliberate. panic bubbles up in your chest as you back away into the kitchen, hands gripping the counter behind you as they round the corner, closing in on you fast. you try to focus, eyes darting to the nearest exit, but theyre already there, blocking your path.
with nowhere else to go, you press yourself against the wall, trapped as they approach, their gloved hand resting on the wall above your shoulder. for a moment, you’re left staring into the blank eyes of the mask. then they lift his hand, pulling the mask back slowly, revealing josh’s familiar face, his eyes glinting with amusement.
relief floods over you, but it’s quickly replaced by a flush of frustration. “you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, half out of breath.
“ugh i knew it was you.”
his grin widens, but there’s fondness in his gaze that catches you off guard. “happy halloween,” he says softly, his voice dipping lower, laced with something playful, something that makes your skin tingle. he doesn’t move away; if anything, he leans closer.
you let out an exasperated laugh, rolling your eyes. “was this your idea of fun?” you ask, more curious than angry, though your heart still pounded in your chest.
josh’s gaze drops to your lips, and he inches closer, his voice low now, barely audible. “i wanted to see how close you’d let me get,.” his thumb grazes along your jaw, a soft touch that leaves you breathless.
"and yet here you are…"
you hold his gaze, his words hanging between you. "maybe i wasn’t planning on stopping you.”
before you could fully process it, his lips were on yours, the kiss was sweet . his hand slips around your waist, pulling you against him as he deepens the kiss, both of you caught up in the moment.
when you finally break apart, his gaze lingers on yours, his thumb going back to brushing your cheek. “guess i was right,” he whispers, his voice warm, familiar, with a softness that sends a thrill through you.
you let out a quiet laugh, still catching your breath. “maybe you should try being wrong once in a while.”
he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you close. “nah,” he says.
PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: ANGST
SONG INSPIRATION: you by petit biscuit
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
REQUESTED: yes
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
you wished you’d just kept your mouth shut.
how could a few sentences feel like they’d practically ruined your whole life? as dramatic as it sounded, it felt true. in the midst of telling the girls about your infatuation with josh, he had somehow overheard the entire thing.
you were all gathered on the sam’s bed, each of you wrapped up in blankets and pillows, dressed in mismatched pyjamas. the night had been full of laughs and cosy chats, all of you too wired to sleep. it started innocently enough.
it started off with jess teasing ashley about her oh so obvious crush on chris, sam ends up spilling about a lame attempt at a bad pickup line a guy had used on her from the other night.
it felt natural, easy, like the kind of conversation you’ve all had a hundred times before.
then, somehow, the conversation turned to you.
“so, who do you have your eye on?” jess had asked, eyebrows raised.
your cheeks warmed as you tried to brush it off. “no one special, really…”
“liar!” emily grinned, nudging you. “we’ve all seen the googly eyes you’ve had whenever you’ve been texting lately. spill!”
with everyone watching, it felt impossible not to tell them. so, you sighed, gave a half hearted shrug, and said, “okay, fine… it’s josh.”
the room went silent, then burst into an eruption of delighted squeals and whispers. excited about their excitement, you let yourself share the details, all those moments that had been replaying in your mind over and over again.
the way he’d remember your coffee order without asking, the times he’d stayed up texting you when you knew he had an early morning the next day, his habit of giving you his hoodie whenever he noticed you were cold, even if it meant he’d end up shivering.
“so what are you waiting for?” sam grinned. “tell him how you feel!”
“oh, yeah, right,” you laughed, trying to play it off. “i’m sure he’s dying to know his best friend is totally in love with him. no way.”
and then you heard it. a small sound from outside the door. a creak of the floorboard.
every head turned as you realised, too late, that the door was slightly ajar, and a shadow lingered just outside.
the shadow shifted, then josh stepped forward, his face unreadable in the dim light filtering from the hall. he looked straight at you, a strange mixture of surprise and something else in his eyes.
your stomach dropped. “josh?” you barely managed to say, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and horror. “were you… listening?”
he took a breath, looking like he was about to say something, then stopped, eyes flicking away for a split second before they found you again. “i… i didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
everyone on the bed froze, waiting, probably holding their breath the same way you were. you felt the burning of their gazes, felt them all waiting for something, anything, to fill the silence.
but josh’s expression shifted, and whatever softness you thought you’d glimpsed vanished. “i don’t feel the same way about you.” he said finally, his voice flat, almost careful.
"i... didn’t mean for you to think that,” josh said, voice barely above a whisper.
the words were a gut punch. the room felt like it was closing in, the walls and ceiling somehow both too close and too far away. you barely registered the worried looks from emily, jess, sam, and ashley. their attempts at lighthearted comments and gentle pats on your shoulder felt hollow, too late to cushion the blow.
you swallowed hard, fighting back the rising lump in your throat. “i… i get it, josh,” you said, the words tasting like regret. “thanks for… clearing that up.”
it was getting harder to blink away the tears blurring your vision, so you got up from the bed in a rush, brushing past him without meeting his eyes. you barely registered the stunned look on his face as you pushed through the doorway, bolting to your room.
when the door closes behind you with a solid, final slam, you let yourself break. you flopped onto the bed, burying your face into your pillow, and the tears came hard, shoulders shaking as you sobbed.
you wished the world would swallow you whole. the humiliation burned through every part of you, leaving you raw and aching. confessing your feelings to him, accidentally laying everything bare for him and your friends to see, was painful enough.
but seeing that look on his face. the careful way he let you down, as if he had tried to be gentle with something fragile, hurt worse.
you could feel all of their pity. it was all too much.
why did he slip through the door at that exact moment? how could it all have gone so terribly wrong?
you cried yourself to sleep. it wasn't easy since every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, his words echoing loudly on loop.
when morning light finally crept through your window, it felt too sharp, too harsh. you woke with swollen eyes and tear streaked cheeks.
you couldn’t face anyone, not josh, not even your friends. you had to leave and so you did.
you sent a quick, vague message to the group chat, letting them know you’d left early, then muted every contact on your phone. you weren’t ready to face them, to hear them try to make you feel better or worse, to remind you of what you couldn’t change.
you stared at your phone for a moment, that hurt and regret eating at you. you’d poured out your heart, indirectly telling your best friend that you were in love with him, and he didn’t feel the same. the realisation sat bitter and unyielding in your mind.
from the moment he walked in, you knew you’d lost him. the minute he looked at you with that sad, regretful expression, you knew it was over.
days blurred into weeks, and weeks slipped into a month. you hadn’t spoken to josh, not a single text, and every call he made went straight to voicemail. facing him was something you couldn’t bear. how could you?
whatever he’d say now would only twist the knife deeper. he’d made it clear how he felt. it was over. any trace of friendship, trust, or whatever you’d thought was between you was gone, shattered by his carefully spoken words.
you found out later, through sam, that ashley had surprisingly defended you after you left. she’d laid into him, calling him out in front of everyone. apparently, she hadn’t held back, telling him exactly how thoughtless he’d been. it was a shock to hear that ashley, of all people, had stood up for you like that, but still, it brought you small comfort.
you were lying on your couch, your attention drifting as the tv droned in the background, its images blurring while you scrolled absently through your phone.
a frantic pounding on your door broke the silence, jolting you upright. you froze, heart racing. you hadn’t ordered anything… and who would even show up at this hour?
the knocking continued, more urgent now. hesitantly, you stood and crept over to the door, peeking through the small glass.
there he was, josh, looking wild and desperate, eyes fixed on the door as he raised his hand to knock again.
you took a step back from the door, breath catching in your throat. his face was flushed, his hair tousled, and his expression, so desperate it was almost frightening. the pounding on the door slowed, but then he knocked again, softer this time, his voice muffled but pleading.
“please… i know you’re in there. i just… i need to talk to you.”
for a long, agonising moment, you hesitated, heart pounding in time with his knocks. part of you wanted to open the door, to hear him out. but the memory of his words still lingered, the wound still raw. what good could come from bringing it all up again?
but then he spoke again, voice breaking a little. “i messed up. please… just let me explain.”
you took a deep breath, your hand trembling as you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see his face clearly. josh’s eyes met yours. he looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept, the sadness in his eyes was so real, it almost made you forget your own pain.
he let out a shaky breath. “thank you,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “i know i don’t deserve you opening the door, but… i couldn’t stay away.”
you stayed silent, gripping the edge of the door. “josh, what are you doing here?”
“i… i couldn’t take it anymore. not hearing from you, not knowing if you’d ever look at me again.” he ran a hand through his hair, his voice thick with regret. “you were right to ignore me– i know that. and i know i hurt you. i was so… scared, i couldn’t let myself see what was right in front of me.”
“josh… you made it pretty clear how you felt.”
his face twisted, as if the memory hurt him as much as it hurt you. “i thought i knew, but i was wrong,” he said, stepping closer, his voice a whisper. “i didn’t realise how much i needed you until you were gone. i didn’t know how much i wanted… us. and losing you, just the thought of it– it’s been killing me.”
you looked away, fighting back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. “why are you saying this now?” you asked, your voice broke “you let me walk away. you let me believe i’d just been… imagining everything.”
he let out a pained sigh. “because i was an idiot. i didn’t see what i had until it was slipping away, and i’ve spent every second since wishing i could go back and do it over.”
your grip on the door tightened as he took another step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the desperation radiating off him. his voice softened, almost breaking. “i need you to know, even if you never speak to me again… that i love you. i’ve loved you for a long time, even if i was too afraid to admit it. and if there’s any chance, any at all—. that you could forgive me, i’ll do anything. just… please.”
your mind spinning as you searched his eyes. you could see it. the unguarded truth in his gaze.
and in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around your heart start to crumble.
you felt your heart thud loudly in your chest, fighting to keep your walls intact, but the way he looked at you was unlike anything you’d ever seen.
you drew a shaky breath, trying to hold on to the anger, the hurt you’d held so close for the past month. “josh… do you know what it felt like? standing there in front of you, spilling my heart, and seeing that look on your face? like i was some burden you needed to brush off?”
he winced, the regret plain on his face. “i know… i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness. i can’t take back what i said. but please. if you knew how i felt right now, you’d know i’ve thought of nothing else since you walked away.” his voice broke, rough with the weight of every word.
“it’s like i can’t breathe when you’re not here.”
your hands trembled as you held the door, resisting the urge to reach for him. “then why? why did you look at me like that? you could’ve said anything else.”
he nodded, eyes downcast. “i know. i was terrified. you were the most important person in my life, and i couldn’t see beyond that… i thought if i admitted how i felt, i’d lose everything. and instead, i just pushed you away. i didn’t realise it was already everything until it was too late.”
the words hit you hard, his honesty unearthing feelings you’d buried for weeks. a part of you wanted to close the door, to protect yourself from the mess he’d made of your heart. but there was another part, louder, pulling you forward, remembering every time he’d made you feel safe, understood, seen.
“do you even understand what you’re asking?” your voice was barely a whisper. “you expect me to just forget it all?”
“no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “i know you can’t forget. i don’t expect you to. but i’m here, and i’ll be here as long as it takes to show you that i mean it, that i’m not just scared anymore. i love you… and i’ll spend as long as it takes to prove it.”
his words hung in the silence, and he stood there, waiting, his eyes pleading. you could see how badly he meant it, how much he needed you to believe him. and slowly, the pain in your chest started to ease, just enough to let hope in.
you let out a sigh, the last of your resolve wavering. “i… don’t know if i can trust you yet, josh.”
“i know,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “but i’ll be here. however long it takes.”
he reached out, fingers brushing your hand softly, and you felt that familiar warmth. despite everything, the walls you've built around your heart softened, for the first time in weeks, you let yourself hope.
“then prove it.”
comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @nights-in-the-woods
keep in mind this is personal preference! these are just the ones I have stumbled upon and if anyone has any more they want to share pleaseeee either comment, dm me or even put it in my inbox! These are almost all smut…
all Josh Washington x reader!!
my masterlist
Smut 18+
Dancing with death by @ghoulishlygrey
Special by @homicidal-slvt
Are you still watching? by @illusioninfnty
Together again by @kaminokatie
What do you really want, psychopath? by @vienssunshine
You taste sweeter than revenge by @vienssunshine
She might bite by @coffeebeanbabysdreams
All night long | good ending by @nena-la-fresa
Wicked temptation by @synnamonroll666
I’ll take you to heaven by @illusioninfnty
You are still human by @synnamonroll666
Fits me like a glove by @sombrashe
not smut!
Grow up, would you? by @sigma-alpha-writer-chad
Enough by @coffeebeanbabysdreams
Obviously it’s cold in the winter time by @vienssunshine
pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader
warnings: nsfw (MDNI), creampies, pussy eating, idk just horny
you stare as the Lin Kuei arrive at the Wu Shi Academy to finish you and the other’s training, and you nervously tug at the edge of your gloves
usually you wouldn’t be wearing them, unneeding anymore with the relationship that had developed between you and the others, but you don’t know the Lin Kuei all that well
their grandmaster stands in the front by Liu Kang while Kuai Liang and Tomas stand behind them, wearing their masks and staring at the five of you
Kung Lao and Raiden shift around excitedly, ready to test their new skills against them while Kenshi shifts around a bit more nervously
Johnny looks positively irritated, fists clenching as he glares at Bi Han specifically, probably still peeved that the grandmaster had broken his hichuli
but you don’t have any feeling toward them, just nervousness at the sight of the strangers, only knowing them through the stories from the others
Liu Kang had recruited you personally and hadn’t brought along the assassins with them
you’re snapped back to the present as they stalk forward, almost like predators sizing up their prey, and you tap your fingers against the side of your thighs to try and suppress a shiver at the sight of them
the god in front of you introduces them to you and the others, saying that they will be there to help finish up your training and enhance the skills that they have learned here
all three of them size the five of you up, and the grandmaster scoffs at the sight of all of you, clearly not happy to be here
you avert your gaze and follow Liu Kang when he beckons for all of you to walk with him to the training grounds, and you hold your breath when he starts calling up the champions for sparring
thankfully, Kung Lao and Bi Han go first, and you watch with bated breath as they spar, Bi Han summoning his blades of ice and Kung Lao moving much like the wind to parry and deal blows
as the spar ends, Bi Han over Kung Lao with the blade pressed to the monk’s neck, Liu Kang calls off the spar and looks to you and the others to ask why Kung Lao had lost
all of you give advice, giving points and demonstrations on how Kung Lao could avoid blows and look for weak spots, and you beckon Kenshi to the training grounds to show a move
demonstrating it a few times, you brush some dirt from his face and try to give him a soft smile for lightly roughing him up, and he turns his head to kiss the palm of your cheek
you flush and roll your eyes, walking back to the crowd and waiting for Liu Kang’s verdict on the next fight
the day passes by similarly, and you steel your breath and bring it back into your body as you circle the ring across from Tomas
he had already been in one match already against Kenshi, but he doesn’t even look the slightest bit tired
raising your gloved fists, you wait for his attack as he spins the karambit in his hand, and one second he’s across the ring and another second he’s directly in your face, about to tackle you down
you move on instinct, dodging and attempting to get out of the situation and ending up where he had previously been in the ring
the two of you play a game of cat and mouse for a minute longer before you finally decide to make the first move, and he reacts quickly
his body moves like mist, dissipating whenever you try and strike him, and you try not to let it get to your head as he dodges almost every single one of your strike
a few of them do land, but not enough to justify hurting him and you struggle to keep your breath steady as you fight him
his experience clearly shines through as he slams you down into the dirt, and the wind is knocked out of you as you gasp for air
he leans over you, asking if you were okay, and you groan, world still spinning upon its axis and pain stinging and pounding at the back of your head
Tomas slowly helps you up, keeping a careful watch of you, and his head comes up to your hair, feeling for any bump on the back of your head
when his fingers leave, they only slightly brush against your neck, but you can hear his voice clear in your mind, saying that you need more practice
he stands up and holds a hand out for you, and you take it, pulling yourself up and turning your face away from the others, slightly embarrassed at how easily you had lost
Liu Kang however doesn’t ask for any advice for you, he only dismisses you back to the ring while Johnny steps up to the ring against the gray assassin
you glance over at the god, a little frustrated, a little angry, and a little curious as to why he hadn’t asked to give you any advice
Bi Han keeps his glare focused on the ring, but Kuai Liang glances at you, telling you that you did well for a fighter with no previous experience
looking back at him, you give him a shy duck of your head, hand coming up to touch the back of your head just to personally confirm there wasn’t a bump
he nods to you and looks back to the ring, the both of them a blur in the field as they spar with each other, and you wonder what the others are thinking
the day ends and none of you except for Johnny has won, and it only served to inflate his boosted ego
you and Kenshi suffer the brunt of the bragging at the dinner table as Kenshi sits next to Johnny and you sit directly across from the actor
he sends you a wink, asking if he gets a prize from you for winning tonight, and you laugh and hold out your bare hand for him to take
his warm hand encompasses your own, and you send him images on you on your knees in front of his spread legs
Johnny’s knee slams into the table, sending all eyes to him, and you withdraw your hand with a sly smile but not before telling him through your connection to meet you in your bedroom tonight
the rest of the dinner flies by without incident, except for Kung Lao complaining about his sore muscles and then sending Raiden a flirty glance and saying that he should help get all those kinks out
when Raiden glances over to the assassins giving an unimpressed look towards the monk, Raiden declines the offer
which is when Kung Lao turns his attention to you, batting his eyelashes and asking if you would help roll out his muscles and maybe he’ll help you relax too
you sigh, but the small smile on your lips betray your amusement
tilting your head to Johnny just slightly, Kung Lao pouts and turns back to his food, sighing into his food and bemoaning his bad luck today
Bi Han lets out a tch sound and stands from the table and excuses himself from dinner, and you can feel his chill even as he passes by you
Kuai Liang and Tomas glance at each other and continue eating their food, keeping their conversation light as you and other defenders talk
soon enough, the dinner bell tolls in the air, and all of you start collecting the empty dishes to bring to the kitchens
just as you leave the room, Liu Kang steps in front of you, and you pause, bowing your head at him
he asks for you to follow him, and you purse your lips together and hand your dishes over to Johnny, telling him to wait for you and that you’ll be back soon
the walk to his office is silent, and you fidget with your fingers, realizing that you hadn’t brought your gloves with you and had left them at the dinner table
hopefully, you wouldn’t accidentally touch anyone
as Liu Kang opens up the door, you spot the eldest brother sitting near his desk, scowling at you and clearly unhappy to see you
the god ushers you inside and closes the door behind you, finally speaking to you and saying that he hadn’t recruited you to fight for the defenders
you turn to him in confusion and then rage at the fact that you had been torn from your life to participate in something you had no worth in
he holds his hand up, saying that it was good for you to learn self-defense, but your true purpose was to help him gather information
lately, there were rumors of a sorcerer in the the ears of Sindel, and he needed confirmation and information about the sorcerer, someone who had the power to upset the peace he had tried very hard to keep
the only other seat in the room is the one across from Bi Han and suddenly you understand why Liu Kang had brought you here
your hands shake as you kneel across from Bi Han on the soft pillows, and he holds his hands out and Liu kang reassures the assassin that you wouldn’t be able to procure any valuable information just yet
the god tells you to try and find Bi Han’s favorite food from his memories, and you give him a nod and then look into the assassin’s glaring eyes
the grandmaster purses his lips and holds one hand out, and you take a breath, hesitating for just a moment, before you finally place your hand in his
his thoughts freeze you, sending shivers down your spine, as if his coldness was just a part of his being, and you can hear his brain practically shouting at you
thoughts of you being incompetent, a terrible fighter, a worthless defender, and you pull your hand away and give the grandmaster an indignant look, calling him a pompous ass
the grandmaster nearly shoots out of his seat to smack you into the ground, but Liu Kang places a calming hand on his shoulder and tells him to stand down
reluctantly, Bi Han sits back down, and he tells the grandmaster to clear his thoughts and to perhaps be a little nicer to you
once more he settles back down, and he holds his hand back out for you, his eyes focusing on your face and scowling at you
you glare right back at him and firmly press your hand into his, determined to get this damn session over with, and you dive your way into his head
this time his head is clear, like a basin of water, and when you peer in, you can see swirling memories sitting just a dip in
slowly, you bring your hand into the water of his memories, and they slightly ripple and distort and grip onto your hand, as if sensing the intruder
Bi Han’s grip on your face tightens, and you grit your teeth and push through looking for his memories of his favorite food
soon enough, something surfaces that looks just right, and you pull it from the water, a memory of his mother patting the grandmaster’s head and placing a dish of egg and tomato on the table
Bi Han rips his hand from yours just as the memory disappears, and you open your eyes from your concentration to look at his angered expression
he presses an accusatory finger into your chest, saying that you had no right to intrude on his private memories like that, and you hiss back that he had actually given you full permission when he had held his hand out willingly
you turn and tell Liu Kang that his favorite dish was egg and tomato before standing up and stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind you
time had flown quickly when you had rummaged through Bi Han’s memories, and the moon now sat at the high point of the sky, almost like hours had passed
hurrying back to your room, you find Johnny fast asleep on your bed, dressed in only slacks and on his side, hand curled over your side of the bed
you sigh and get ready for bed, climbing into the covers and placing his arm around your waist, and he stirs, mumbling that he was tired
your hand goes to his face, and you try to convey just exactly how sorry you are that you had broke your promise, you’ll make it up to him in the morning
he smiles and whispers out an alright, his mind going fuzzy and then blank as he falls back into dreamland
nuzzling closer into him, you try and do the same, pushing out Bi Han’s comments about you out of your mind
the next few weeks are similar, you sit out most of the training sessions and watch from the side, only participating when Liu Kang tells you to so that your self-defense skills stay fresh
at night, he brings the three Lin Kuei warriors, only one at a time to help you learn how to navigate their memories and their thoughts to look for information
apparently, they were good practice for you since they all had much stronger fortitude than the others, and you hate to say it, but you agree with Liu Kang
Johnny, Kung Lao, Kenshi, and Raiden weren’t terribly good at hiding their thoughts or resisting you when you touched them
they tended to just project whatever they wanted to into your head, and you had learned many many things about them this way
today was a warm day with a cool breeze, and you sit and watch Kung Lao spar against Bi Han and look to Tomas as he sits down next to you
he gives you a nod of acknowledgement, and you turn your head back to the fight
his fingers brush against yours, and no thoughts or images come forth
it had taken a bit of practice, but you could now choose whether or not to take in their thoughts when you touched others
you can feel Tomas’s thoughts prodding at your brain, as if wanting to talk to you, and you let him in, interested in knowing what he wanted that he didn’t want to say it outloud
his voice is much more timid in his head this time, almost as if he’s embarrassed to ask the question, and you tilt your head and wait for him to tell you his question
finally, his thoughts rush toward you, slamming into your ears and asking what was going on between you and the others because he had seen and…heard a few things go bump in the night
your face flushes hot, and you turn your head to the gray assassin, whose eyes glance up to your eyes from your broad chest
drawing your hand back, you wonder if you should tell him, but after a second of silence you suppose that your relationship with the others wasn’t really a secret
Tomas stands up and apologizes to you for crossing a boundary, and you wave him off and tell him to sit back down, that it wasn’t a rude question
you explain your relationship with them, that they liked you and they liked each other and you liked them, and so all of you were in a relationship with each other
he rubs his chin at the realization, and then after a silent moment, he asks how it started
this time you feel a bit speechless, face flushing as you remember how their lewd thoughts had even led to the relationship
you glance around you, spotting Kuai Liang not too far away, and then you debate on whether or not you should Tomas on how it all started
you figure it couldn’t hurt, he already heard you and the others in the middle of the night
holding out your palm, Tomas raises an eyebrow and places his hand in yours, and you hesitate for just one more moment before you send him thoughts of how it all started
the gray assassin jerks in your hold but doesn’t let go, and you watch his cheeks flush and turn red and after you finish with the story ending with you crowded in that bedroom
suddenly, it’s as if all the barriers in his head drop down, shaken and startled by the story, and then his thoughts slam into you, images of you flashing in his head
you’re not prepared for his guard to come down to easily, and you’re swept away in the thoughts of him fucking you, hips thrusting in and out of you as his breath tickles the shell of your ear as he tells you how good you are
he explores every part of you with his fingertips, sending your mind into a fritz and every nerve ablaze, and they squeeze at your chest and pinch at your nipples
his hands go down to your ass, squeezing at the firm flesh and then giving it a quick slap before roughly grabbing onto them again
his moans are deep and echo into your ear, his pelvis slapping and grinding into your clit with every thrust, and his cock stretches you out deliciously
his hands come up to cup your face, and he pulls you into a searing kiss, teeth biting into your bottom lip and mouth moving frantically against yours as he groans out your name
he changes the angle of his hips, and it makes you choke on a whimper as his cock abuses that sweet spot inside of you that makes you claw at his back
Tomas pulls his hand away and stands up, almost slightly woozy, and he says he needs a second and practically stumbles out of the training fields
your own face is hot, and you stare at the spot where Tomas had been sitting just a moment earlier, and you wonder what you’ve just started
you sit at the dinner table, conversing with the others, and Tomas sits at the other end of the table, glancing at you every so often and then turning away with an embarrassed look
Kuai Liang seems a bit concerned, but you try not to pay attention to it as Johnny makes some dumb joke and Kenshi elbows him in the ribs
when Liu Kang comes into the dining room and beckons you and Kuai Liang away, you hope he doesn’t pry too much about what happened to Tomas
both you and Kuai Liang sit across from each other, and Liu Kang tells you to find something in there, a precious memory of his, Kuai Liang holds his palms out
you take them and slowly pry into his memories, trying not to enable any of his mental defenses, and it’s like a maze, weaving through the various channels and turns to try and find what you’re looking for
but you find what you’re looking for, almost drawn to it by the warmth it emanates, and you slowly pry it open and watch his most precious memory in front of your eyes
you start to make your way out of the maze, weaving through the familiar channels and turns when suddenly the environment changes and you’re stuck in a black void
then his voice echoes in your head, and he asks what you told his brother earlier to make him so timid around you
his grip on your palms tighten, and he asks if you threatened Tomas
you backtrack and tell him that you did no such thing, that you don’t even half the skill to even try and threaten them
his thoughts seems to frown at you, piling his emotions onto your psyche, and he asks what you did tell him then to make him so flushed
for a second, you remain silent and wonder if you should tell the assassin, but his tight grip on your palm was starting to hurt and you know he isn’t just going to accept any answer
once again, you slowly explain what he had asked you and then push the memories of how you had gotten into a relationship with Kung Lao, Raiden, Johnny, and Kenshi into his head
the assassin barely flinches, but his grip does relax on you
however, his palms seem to burn with flame, embarrassed about what you were sharing with him, and then just like his brother, his defenses falter, weakening and let a flash of an image show
an image of you, his head in between your plush thighs, mouth wrapped around your clit, and burns covering your body in the shape of his fingerprints
his chin is covered in your slick and your cum, and his arms wrap around your thighs to drag you closer into his mouth, his hair ruffled with your hands digging into the thick hair
your mouth is open in a cry of desperation, overstimulated but still begging for more as you grind your hips into his hot mouth
then, his guard comes back up, only faltering for you to just see a second of that image, but it’s enough for him to drop your palms
you turn your head to Liu Kang and clear your throat, repeating Kuai Liang’s most precious memory, and the assassin nods and agrees
Liu Kang nods, saying that you were slower than last time, and you just purse your lips and said that you’re just tired today from the heat
the god seems to accept the answer and dismisses the both of you to your rooms, and you hurry away, face burning with heat
it felt like deja vu
the next few days, both assassins avoid you, glancing at you at meal times and then glancing away, and when you attend training sessions, they can’t keep their eyes off you
you try and avoid when they’re training, and so you sit in one of the rooms, lifting some weights to try and keep up your physique due to your training taking a turn to start focusing on more telepathic skills
you hear the door creak open, and you turn to find Bi Han, glaring at you, like he wanted to kill you
for a moment, you consider flinging the dumbbell at him to try and stall him, but you know it would only pause him for a half a second before he was on you
he stalks toward you, picking you up and slamming you against the wall, bracing his arm against your neck, his angry thoughts rolling off him in waves and assaulting every part of your fleshy mind
Bi Han growls out what you’ve done to his brothers, saying that they’ve been distracted, that now they can’t seem to win against your friends anymore
you purse your lips, and your hands clutch at his arm to try and find air
wheezing out that you haven’t told them anything, Bi Han snarls and calls you a liar, pressing his arm further into your neck
thoughts fly out of you, pleas for your life, that you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve said nothing to them, but none of it works and only further enrages Bi Han
your mind struggles to process under the onslaught of his anger and vitriol towards you as his skin presses into yours, and you do the only thing you can think of
you send thoughts of him and you, you on top of him, slamming your hips down onto his cock as his hands dig fingerprints into your skin
your shoulders hooked over his knees, and his cock bullying its way into you and making you gasp and bare your neck for him to suck hickeys and leave bite marks
his hands in your hair keeping you still as he fucks into your face, uncaring of how tears stream down your cheeks, your hands frozen behind you in ice so that you can only grind your needy clit into the air
the sight of your arched back as he presses his hand deeper into the small of it to make you whine and groan as he fucks into you from behind, ass red with his handprints, the wet squelch of your pussy in the air, your desperate moans and whines filling his ears
Bi Han lets go of you, and you fall to the ground, gasping for air, and you ignore how he opens the door so hard it slams against the wall and breaks as he storms away
when Liu Kang bids them farewell, all of you standing across from the three of them, the assassins refuse to meet your eyes and instead stare directly at the god
you trudge back to your room, exhausted from all the training and flop into your bed, a piece of paper flying into the air that you hadn’t realized was laying on your bed
sitting up, you pick up the folded note on the ground, and your jaw goes slack at the note
an invitation to the Lin Kuei, if you ever wanted to be with better lovers than the fools you currently have, signed by Bi Han
hello!!! im not going to lie, my fixation for mk1 has been kind of dying, and i have a bunch of wips collecting dust in my drafts that i just dont have to energy to finish bcuz im so bored with mk1. i wish i could give you guys like a time estimate of when ill be back writing but i dont even know myself. dont worry, i wont be gone forever but i will be taking a break. im not satisfied with mk1 and im sure a lot of people arent either, there was a lot of potential there but i feel like nrs fumbled hard and thats part if the reason im going on hiatus. so yeah thats it from me for a while, sorry if this disappoints my followers, i will try to be back soon even if its for something other than mk1. love you all and thank you for supporting me this far. :)
i'm just so obsessed with bi-han (of course) and love exploring the concept of domesticity with him. i needed to get this out of my system lest i perish lol
cw: none. fluff maybe (?) not exactly.
one random headcanon about bi-han is that he says things that are unintentionally romantic. like you're mad at him and a little snappy and trying to create distance but he follows you around instead, and if you become defensive he says, "i'm not itching for a fight, i just want to be your husband" in his signature gravelly tone, and all of a sudden you're trying so hard not to melt into a puddle right there and then because you're supposed to be mad at him, but then the next words that soon follow are disappointingly sexist nonsense straight out of the victorian era, "your behaviour is rather unbecoming for a woman or is it that time of the month?" and whatever affection you felt at that moment vanishes because apparently, you're not supposed to express the full spectrum of human emotions other than be compliant, placid and passive.
being the staunch traditionalist that he is, he has a knack for surprising you—both good and bad.
