#Bad is the same but Bad does try to touch base after

[moonstruckme]

Hi! My inbox is being evil again (it's trying to keep us apart!) and temporarily deleting the exact requests I want to find, so here's a copy+paste of the request I got and thank you so much anon :)

could you do a james x fem!reader where he helps her through a particularly bad panic attack and then just cuddles her and grounds her again? i get them all the time and the thought of the comfort just makes me feel better :,)

cw: modern au, panic attack

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

James knows it’d be no help to tell you how scared these attacks make him, but they do make him very scared. He imagines it’s not too different from your reasoning right now; he knows, ultimately, that you’ll be alright, but the thought doesn’t provide as much comfort as it should when he’s watching you with your breaths coming quick and short and your nails digging into your own palm like you can hurt yourself worse on the surface that whatever’s doing this to you. 

He starts there. Takes your hand and uncurls your fingers, threading them through his. 

“You’re okay,” he tells you, sitting on the coffee table with his knees touching yours. He shuts the computer on your lap, easing it out of your grip to move it away. “Take a breath, sweetheart.” 

If you can still hear him you show no sign of it. A tear forms in the corner of your eye, falling when you blink. He can feel your heartbeat jumping where the base of his palm rests over your wrist. 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

There, a slight nod. James curls towards you eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, his knees on either side of your thighs and sitting a bit taller than you while he rubs your back. He makes big, sweeping circles, hoping to lull you with the slow pattern. Tears slug down your cheeks in curved lines, his shirt collecting their damp masses. 

“It’ll pass, angel. It always does, yeah? I know it feels like it’s not going to get better, but it will. You’re doing so good. So, so good, my love.” 

Your breath wheezes slightly on the way in, evidence of your diligent efforts, and when it comes out a low, pained sound comes with it. James feels it deep in his throat. He increases his pressure on your back. 

“Is this okay?” he worries, then feels shitty. You’re hardly up for questioning right now. He tries to sound certain. “Focus on my hand, angel. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Take a big breath for me.” 

He feels you try, your little sob when it doesn’t go as deep as either of you want. 

“I can’t—” 

“You can, it’s alright. You’re already doing so much better, see? It’s going away.” 

This one is worse than some of the others James has sat through with you. It seems to take ages for your breathing to slow down, and a while after that until he feels your heart find a somewhat normal rhythm under his palm. 

He knows you’re with him, more present, when you move your legs to give him easier access to you. James adjusts eagerly, giving you a proper hug. Your crying is less stilted now. He never thought he’d be so relieved to hear you sniffle and weep on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” he sighs, holding you tight. “You did it, sweetheart.” 

“James,” you whimper. 

“I know, but you’re okay. Keep breathing nice and deep,” he reminds you, worried another one will start up. “You made it. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a while.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft, small thing. It encourages James back from you, though only far enough to see your face. One tear hangs from your bottom lashes like a dewdrop from a petal. When he kisses beneath your eye it transfers to his skin. 

“No thanks necessary.” He kisses you on your other cheek, just to make it even. “You did all the hard work yourself.” 

“Still,” you say, a bit wobbly, “thanks.” 

James frowns. He allows himself to stop rubbing that same endless circle on your back, brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “Anytime,” he tells you sincerely. 

The worst of your crying seems over, but the look you give him suggests you might start again. James likes to think of himself as a man unafraid of tears and strong emotions; he’ll let you cry all night if that’s what you need. Still, he’d prefer to avoid it. 

“How do you feel?” he asks quickly. “Do you want some water? We could go for a walk, it might help to be outside.” 

You don’t want to do either of those, but you do consent to another hug. Which, really, is a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for. 

[shadowslocked]

Pomme: Dadboyhalo feels stressed and unappreciated and just wants to hear how much you value him

Forever: I hear you Pomme, I’ll do something special for Bad

Also Forever: if anybody gets caught stealing furniture they will be arrested, as decided by the few residents currently on the server

Bad: thanks I hate it!

[yawnderu]

Mine — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Art by @ave661!

Synopsis: knowing he couldn't provide you with the life you wanted, Simon breaks things off with you. Two years later, you come back to base with a baby that isn't his.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, established relationships, breeding, erotic lactation, romantic love making, praising. No beta we die like Roach.

Ghost always knew his lifestyle would forever be considered out of the norm. A soldier who risks his life every single mission, a man who has built an entire plethora of enemies in multiple countries should never even bother settling down, yet why does it hurt to bad to see you come back to base with a baby that isn't his? It was his idea to break up— not wanting to destroy your dreams of wanting a family in a gated community, even when you reassured him living together as soldiers wouldn't be an issue at all.

"Say 'hi, Simon'." You tell the baby you're carrying, the tiny thing wearing a bear onesie is looking up at Simon, pure curiosity in her eyes. She simply babbles, short arms reaching out to touch his skull mask. To your surprise and to his heart break, he leans down so your daughter can play with the hard plate of the mask, not worried at all about her breaking it.

"She looks like you." He said with a choked voice, trying his best to sound calm. He doesn't even dare look at you, his gaze focused on the tiny girl you're holding.

"Dada!" She babbles out while touching his mask and Simon's eyes immediately go towards you, soul almost leaving his body in fear of seeing disgust on your face, yet all he sees is a bashful smile adorning your pretty features. He holds in his breath, eyebrows furrowed under the balaclava as he waits for your response.

"Astrid, that's—" You begin and she interrupts, one of her tiny hands barely being able to hold one of his big skull gloved fingers. "Dada!" She insists, louder this time. There's only 3 words the little girl can say including 'Dada', so you're not all that concerned about her seeing him that way.

"Sorry, she—" You get interrupted once again, this time by Simon.

"It's okay." If being delusional and pretending this tiny thing is his daughter helps him deal with the heartbreak making his chest hurt, he doesn't mind. The girl clings to Simon's neck and you lean closer, giving her a questioning look. She never liked being held by anyone but you, often crying whenever friends tried to hold her.

"This might sound strange, but..." His gaze shifted from you to the child, heart melting at the little girl holding onto the neck of his jacket for dear life.

"Can I hold her?" His voice was hoarse, hands almost shaking from all the emotions that hit him at once.

"Of course." Your warm smile reassured him, gently passing him the baby. He supported the back of her head with his hand, easily dwarfing her entire skull, yet being so delicate with his touch you could swear he thinks your daughter is made of glass.

Simon felt light headed as the little girl was slipped into his arms, fitting perfectly in his hands. His eyes lit up when he looked down and saw her soft, chubby fingers wrap around the chain of his dog tags, a small smile forming under the balaclava. He brought her close and cradled her, heart thundering in his chest at holding this lovely girl you created.

"Dada." She pointed at him with her finger, looking back at you as she squeezed his chain with her free hand. You could swear you saw one of his eyebrows lifting in amusement under the mask, the same cocky look you know too well.

"Maybe she wants me to be her daddy." He teased you, cradling the baby delicately in his strong arms, shielding her from any danger. He was instantly smitten the second he saw her, content to have your permission to hold her even after all you both went through.

"Don't be so smug about it, bastard." You playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder to give your little girl a kiss on the forehead, her hand holding onto your hair softly the same way you managed to teach her after one too many times of having your hair pulled by the tiny creature.

"Mama." She attempted to pet your hair the same you taught her how to pet a cat, albeit her tiny limbs moved much sloppier and with surprising strength.

"I think it's sweet." He said with a cheeky smirk, the pain in his chest going away more and more the longer he held your daughter. He was secretly hoping to get a reaction out of you after almost two years of not being able to tease you.

"You can tell her no all you want, but if she wants a dada, she's got one." As if to prove his point, he pointed with his eyes to the girl in his arms, the child reaching out towards Ghost with a giggle. His fingers tickled the baby gently, making her laugh even more. You look between Simon and the baby, a fond smile on your lips when you see just how easily they get along, the pupils in his brown eyes fully dilated as he looks down at her.

"Look at her." Ghost spoke softly, one of his skull gloved fingers running down the length of her short hair.

"She looks like an angel." He looked down at the child with nothing short of raw adoration, gaze drifting back to you, taking in the sweet moment of your body leaning against his while you both fawn over the infant. You hesitantly move away from his shoulder after a few seconds and he gives you a questioning side eye.

"I've got a meeting with Price, let me—" You reach out for your baby and he looks down at you, gaze softening.

"I can babysit for you." He offers with a hopeful look in his eyes. How can you deny anything to this man when he's holding your little girl as if he would die for her no questions asked? When those big brown eyes are looking down at you, the moisture in them clear as day? You nod your head, offering a warm smile as you give your baby one last kiss in the cheek, accidentally tickling her and making her giggle even more.

"There's a few baby bottles in the fridge, just run them over hot water for a few seconds until it's warm— but not too warm." He nods his head as you give him instructions on how to take care of the baby, listening intently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you he knows how to take care of a child— he babysat his former nephew many, many times before. He doesn't even realize he dissociated until you gently pat his shoulder, walking to Price's office.

"You and me, yeah?" He asks your baby who simply giggles in return, tiny hands going back to play with the hard plate of his skull mask.

The meeting took much longer than expected, catching up with Price and talking about your possible return to the 141. It isn't until three hours later that you go back to your quarters, heart in your throat when you turn on the lights.

Ghost is laying on your bed, civilian clothes on with a hoodie covering half of his upper face, your baby safely secured on his chest. You don't have the heart to wake them up, instead grabbing your phone and snapping a quick picture, making sure not a single feature of his face is seen for his own safety and privacy.

The change of lighting slowly wakes him up, offering you a tired smile before his eyes close again once he realizes it's just you. You take off your boots and turn off the light, sneaking into bed with your lovely baby and... your ex.

It feels too natural to even think much about it, one of his arms instantly wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer, head resting on his chest along with the tiny offspring. He drifts off to sleep soundly with his two girls and for the first time in a long time, he's able to get a full night's sleep, not being woken up by his violent nightmares.

Weeks pass as Simon spends more and more time with you, your new contract signed the same day you had a meeting with Price, though he's not putting you on any missions yet until they figure out who will take care of your daughter while you're away. Today Gaz and Soap asked to take her out, claiming they wanted to buy some new clothes for her since she's growing up fast.

"Hey, big guy." You greet Simon, who seems to have relocated to your quarters for whatever reason— the man literally spends his whole time there and you don't even question it anymore, simply assuming he wanted to spend more time with your daughter. You know details here and there about his family, though he was never clear about the full story. You sit down next to him and he nods his head in acknowledgment, too busy looking at his phone.

"Can I buy her this?" He points his phone at you, showing you a website selling pajama pants for babies, the ones he's showing you are grey and have a skull pattern all over. You playfully roll your eyes, nodding your head before laying down next to him, head laying on his chest while you look at his phone, browsing the website together.

"You don't have to buy her things, you know?" You take a few seconds to admire his unmasked features iluminated by his phone—the soft jawline, thin pink lips, high nose and skin around his eyes that always seemed to be tainted with eye black no matter how well he washed it off.

"Telling me what to do, Sargeant?" He teased, raising an eyebrow at you and being an asshole jokingly just to make you laugh. It only earns him a slap on the arm, phone dropping right on his face. He turns his head slowly to look at you and you can recognize the look in his eyes— you try to run away but he holds you down, fingers already tickling your ribs as you laugh and struggle, trying your best to get out of his grasp to no avail.

"Pause." You kick and scream, laughter escaping your lips due to the tickles. As soon as you speak he stops, looking down at you with a tender look in his face. You gasp for air and he takes the chance to look down at your lips, so close, so inviting...

"I saw that." You tease and he jokingly pushes your head into the pillow, laying down next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist. You giggle at the remaining feeling of the tickles before laying back down on your side, hand absent-mindedly tracing patters on his defined, clothed stomach. You don't know when you both started becoming so close again, yet the comfort is always welcome in the turbulent life of a soldier.

"When's that lot coming back?" He looks down at you, longing mixed with curiosity. Truth to be told, he knows the boys will keep your baby safe, but he wants to have her right back where she belongs— in his arms.

"Like... two hours, I think. If they don't find anything too distracting. Don't worry, I made them take a jacket for her in case it gets cold." He would never tell you he was the one to put the baby jacket in the car because they all forgot.

"Good, good." He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It's quiet for a few minutes, both of you finding comfort in the silence before he speaks again.

"Are you planning on having another one?" He asks curiously, gaze drifting down towards you, doing his best to hide the longing and hope in his tone.

"Maybe." You keep in simple, eyes staying closed as you trace patterns on the muscles of his stomach, feeling them flex involuntarily at your touch.

"Why? Interested on having a family with me now, Simon?" You tease, an eyebrow raised at him as you finally open your eyes. He seems to be thinking about it for a few seconds before hesitantly nodding.

"Bullshit." You sit up, looking down at him with a mix of confusion and hope.

"S' the truth." He plays it off casually as if he didn't confess being ready to do the same thing that broke both of you off two years ago. He pulls you back down to his chest, fingers gently massaging your scalp. You can hear his heart beat fast, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows the knot in his throat.

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. It's too much all at once— knowing Simon actually wanted to settle down with you bringing a mix of anxiety and fear to both of you equally. He never had a normal family, and though deep down he was scared of being like his father, he already proved to himself he can be gentle and tender, the same way he is with your daughter.

His hand slowly drifted down from your waist to the curve of your ass, softly squeezing it while looking at you for any signs of hesitation. He finds none, and instead sees you leaning closer and closer until your lips crash, the passion of two lovers who never got over one another present in the kiss.

Clothes are discharged all over the room with no care at all, the quarter walls bouncing off with a mix of your moans and his low groans, a pillow under your hips while he fucked into your cunt, slow and deep thrusts making the tip of his fat cock slam into your willing cervix.

"Gonna look so fucking pretty with my kid." He whispers into your ear, breathy groans leaving his lips as his thrusts slow down, making love to you rather than just fucking you for a quick nut. One of his hands cups your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me. Tell me how pretty you'll be all swollen with my baby." You hesitate and he kisses your lips gently, gaze tender while he looks down at you, thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time as he waits for you to speak.

"I'll look... so pretty—fuck— with your child." You manage to speak out between whiny moans, the way he's looking at you with pure love and adoration is all you need to confirm he does find you attractive. Truth to be told, it's difficult being confident after glint through something that permanently alters your body, yet he's looking at you like you're even more beautiful than before. In his eyes, you are.

"That's a good girl." He praises, hips rutting faster against yours as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your cunt, the nasty squelching sound every time he goes hits it hard making this even more exciting. He holds himself up with his elbows, large hands cupping your tits while he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like a starved man finding shelter.

"These tits are gonna be so big too." He murmurs, swallowing the milk coming out of your tits with no hesitation. His hand gets busy with your other nipple, gently pulling and squeezing the sensitive bud, not minding the milk squirting all over. It's too good to be true— your body changing so much to keep your baby healthy and soon enough, it'll change for his baby too.

"So fuckin' perfect, baby." He praises, eyes closing as he focuses on how good your wet walls are wrapping around his unprotected cock, tongue swirling around your nipple before he latches onto it again, drinking the sweet milk coming out.

"This cock's all yours." He lets go of your nipple, face seeking shelter on the crook of your neck as his thrusts get sloppier by the second, embarrassingly nasty words coming out of his lips like prayer. You're the only one allowed to ever see him like this, to have him in any possibly way. He doesn't even care how he's promising you the world, offering all of himself to you without having any doubts.

"Everyone's gonna know you're mine, love." He whispers into your ear, voice hoarse and full emotion, hips stuttering before he buries himself all the way into your cunt, cum splurging out directly into your willing, fertile womb. He keeps himself inside, caging you in with his strong arms into a protective embrace, wanting to make sure not a single drop of cum is wasted.

"All mine."

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Lessons

Summary: Joel Miller, the smuggler of the Boston QZ, does not want your money when he gets you the medication you need, he asks for your body. Something you happily agree to. But one night he catches you touching yourself after you just had sex and leaves you to finally admit to him that you almost never finish with him. Something Joel can't and won't let stand.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: Boston QZ Joel, sex as a business transaction, mentions of period pains and medication, mentions of alcohol. smut (unprotected sex, semi public sex, oral sex) Joel is bad at feelings but he's trying, little bit of oblivious idiots cause why the hell not

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

It started because you needed pills.

FEDRA had again increased the prices for the medication you and many other people needed, you, to get through you period every month and you had heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that there might be another way to get it. 

It was back then that you met Joel Miller. 

You were at the speakeasy after a long day of pretending to love getting to cook meals at the FEDRA base on the other side of the QZ. 

You hated the job, but it paid well and left you being able to sometimes steal shit so you put a fake smile on while the FEDRA officers lined up to get their food at the make shift cafeteria you were working in, ignoring their lingering stares and attempts to flirt with you. 

It had been a long and exhausting day and you wanted a drink when your friend Carl told you that Joel Miller was here. You followed the way he was pointing at, being met with dark eyes already looking at you. 

He was not what you expected. 

Smugglers you had met before usually were younger and making you uncomfortable for various reasons. 

But Joel Miller was attractive in a dangerous way. 

He was sitting at the far end of the underground speakeasy, his jeans clad legs spread widely. He had a drink in his hand, that was resting on his thigh, the sleeves of the dark shirt he was wearing pushed over his elbows, showing his strong arms. 

But it was the way he was looking at you that made you realise that Joel Miller could become a problem for you. 

It was the first night he had fucked you. 

In a dark corner outside of the speakeasy, his hand wrapped over your mouth to keep you quiet as he railed you against the cold stone wall, spilling his cum over your still clothed back before you could cum, leaving you to clean up by yourself while he made his way back inside. 

You had to finish yourself off the moment you got home.

A pattern that you didn’t know would continue for the next years. 

It was easy. 

You let him fuck you and he would get you the drugs you needed. 

Yes, you could afford to pay him with ration cards. It would probably even better for you. But over the years this arrangement you had was now going, you started craving the way he was using you. 

It was the only human connection you allowed yourself to have, even though it only rarely ended with you getting to climax. Something that you realise should bother you more. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t make you feel good. He did. He was big and rough and just what you craved. 

He just wasn’t in it for you, but for him and him only. 

Joel came, every single time. 

Be it on your ass, on your tits or in your mouth. He always finished. 

It was always the same procedure. 

Every three months you’d meet up at the speakeasy. He would fuck you from behind either there or at your home, never his, and you would wake up to a three month supply of the drugs you needed on your kitchen table. 

You asked him once how he did get inside of your apartment and he said that you should learn how to lock your door.

But tonight something was different. 

You had run into him on the street after your shift. Another thing that seemed to happen more often. 

In the last couple of months Joel seemed to always be where you were. Something that had not happened in all the years before. 

It had only been three weeks since you met up and he asked if he could come over later. 

Confused you had agreed. 

If you were honest with yourself you had been looking forward to spending the rest of your day with the bottle of wine you had stolen from the FEDRA kitchen some weeks ago. 

There would be memorial services all over the QZ tonight, the curfew being lifted for the day before and for Outbreak day. 

You couldn’t believe it already had been ten years. 

You were already a glass of wine in when you heard a knock on your door. Event though you knew who it would be (you never got visitors) you checked before you opened the door for Joel. 

He nodded at you as he entered and you leaned with your back against the closed door, watching him in your space. 

You came to the realisation that you only ever spend time with him when it was dark outside. Like he was a monster that was hiding under your bed. 

He awkwardly turned around to look at you and you tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, waiting for what would happen next. 

„The supplier for your drugs got killed last week. I don’t have someone new yet, but I have these,“ he reached into this back pocket and showed you a small tube of pills. 

„These should last you for four months more. I’ll try to figure something out for after,“ he said. You nodded, taking a step towards him. He held out the tube of pills and you took it from him, reading over the faded out ink on the label that read the name of a woman that was probably long dead. 

„Thank you,“ you said quietly. 

„Take a seat, I’ll just put them away,“ you said. He nodded and you turned around, walking towards your little bathroom. You put the pills away, before you looked at yourself in the small mirror above the sink. 

You asked yourself why he chose today to come over and give you the pills. He could have waited  until the next time you were due since he had a full supply for the next time. 

Not that you were complaining. 

More than once you had tried to come up with a plan to have sex with Joel more often than you did, but for some reason you felt silly with every idea that you had. 

You could ask, but you didn’t think you could handle if he said no, so you made your peace with the arrangement you had. 

You just wanted to spend more time with him, feeling yourself drawn to him. 

Taking a deep breath you made your way back towards your kitchen area, where Joel was now sitting at your small table. You were overwhelmed with the urge to climb into his lap. 

Instead you picked up your glass of wine to take a sip. 

„You want a glass too?“ You asked him. 

„Sure,“ he nodded. You picked up a mug. 

„Only have that one glass, sorry,“ you said sheepishly as you filled the mug with some wine and brought it over to him. 

„Where did you get that from anyway?“ He asked, his fingers brushing over yours as he took the mug from you. 

You sat down on the chair next to him. 

„Stole it from the FEDRA pantry,“ you shrugged and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow  before he shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small grin. 

„Unbelievable,“ he said looking at you with warm eyes before he brought the mug up to his lips. 

„They have so much shit they don’t need. Makes me angry to see everyone suffer while they get to eat first class meals. So I sometimes take things,“ you shrugged. 

„Anything else you took?“ He asked, leaning towards you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, before you got up. 

„I usually take small stuff. Spices, herbs and shit. But,“ you bend down, opening the cabinet under the sink and reaching to the very end, searching for the two bottles you hid there some time ago, grinning when you picked them up and turned around, missing him staring at your ass.

His eyes widened when he noticed what you held. 

„Shut the fuck up," he said in awe and you chuckled. 

„You want some Jack and Coke, Miller?“ You winked and he shook his hand with a grin. 

„If you’re offerin’“ he winked.

„Please,“ you moaned, letting your head fall down against your pillow as Joel fucked you into you mattress. You were so close. He had one of his hands on our back, pinning you against the mattress while he pumped his cock into you in deep hard thrusts. 

He had gotten you naked not long after you offered him the first glass of whiskey, asking you if you’d like to suck his cock while he emptied his glass. 

You did, keeping him on the edge for almost an hour before he pulled you up and told you to kneel on the bed. 

You were surprised to find him pulling you up against his chest moments later, his skin against yours as he played with your tits. 

Usually these fucks were quick, leaving no time to really get out of either of your clothes. And if you had the time, it was always you who got naked. 

„Always so fucking good,“ he moaned behind you and you gasped. You reached one hand between your legs to play with your clit when Joel groaned and pulled out of you. Whining as he turned you around you looked up at him as he jerked himself off before he moaned and spilled his cum all over your body. 

You were annoyed for a moment, having been so close yourself but that disappeared the moment you saw how relaxed Joel looked. He was mumbling something you couldn’t make out before his eyes opened, taking you in as you laid on your back with his cum all over your stomach and chest. 

„So pretty,“ he mumbled before he let himself lay down next to you. He stretched his arms to the side and you sighed, slipping your fingers through his cum on your chest, bringing it up to taste it. With a grin you turned your head towards the side to look at Joel only to find him asleep.

Disappointed you sat yourself up before you made your way back to your bathroom to clean yourself up. 

After taking care of your business and brushing your teeth you grabbed a glass of water and made your way back to your bed. Joel was still sleeping, laying completely naked in your bed, his flaccid cock still glistening in your juices. 

Shaking your head you grabbed your spare blanket and put it over him before you snuggled under your blanket. You switched the small lamp on your bedside table off.

Usually he would be gone by now. 

He never stayed, let alone fell asleep next to you. It made you think back to the last time you had shared a bed with someone. Ten years ago.

The last time your life had been normal. The last time you had been truly happy. The last time you had slept in the arms of the man you thought you would grow old with only to wake up to him trying to kill you. 

Closing your eyes you shook your head, trying to get rid of the memory that haunted you every single day. You turned your head to look at Joel.

He looked so much younger when he was asleep. The lines around his eyes almost gone, his lips resting in a pout. Adorable. 

You spend more time thinking about Joel Miller than you would ever admit. 

Of course you heard the stories around the QZ about him. How he took no shit from anyone. He had the reputation to be brutal and cold. 

But he never was with you. 

You hummed, letting your hands ran down your body, before you brought one hand between your legs while your other hand played with your tits. 

You moved your fingers over your clit, your pussy still wet from Joel fucking you. 

Thinking about how he felt when he fucked you you pushed two fingers inside of you, humming quietly. It wasn’t his cock, but it would do the job. Moving your fingers inside of you, the palm of your hand massaging your clit. 

„Fuck,“ you whispered, moving your hips slowly. You pulled your fingers out, focusing on your clit instead and you smiled when you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching. Arching your back your blanket slipped down, revealing your tits to the cold air. 

Your lips parted as you took deep breaths, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it. 

You released a long and happy sigh when you finally came, biting your lip as you rode it out. Relaxing back into your bed you closed your eyes, smiling to yourself. 

„Can’t get enough, huh?“ Joel’s sleepy voice startled you and your eyes opened wide, finding him looking at you as he laid on the side.

Caught, you felt your cheeks burning before you turned your head away from him, hiding. 

„Uh. Yeah. I just… needed to cum again….“ You mumbled awkwardly, intending to get out of the bed to flee into the bathroom, before you felt his fingers wrap around one of your writs, holding you back. 

Nervously sucking your bottom lip in you turned back to him, finding him already looking at you with narrowed eyes.

„You did cum earlier, right? I felt it,“ he said.

You just looked at him, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation when you slowly shook your head. He blinked once, twice at you before his eyes widened. 

„You didn’t cum?“ He asked, confused. 

Suddenly feeling too naked for this conversation you pulled your blanket up and over your breasts as you turned on the bed towards him. 

You took a deep breath. 

„No. I did not,“ you finally said and if this situation wouldn’t be so awkward you would laugh at his horrified expression. 

„But… You… You… I felt it? I did, didn’t I….“ He was speaking to himself and you took his hand. 

„It’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s me. It’s always been hard to finish and…“ You were stopped as he squeezed your hand. 

„You did finish before with me, right?“ He asked slowly. 

You nodded. „Of course!“ You said quickly. 

He narrowed his eyes again. 

„How often. And don’t lie to me,“ he added. You looked down at your hands.

„Joel, can we please just… I don’t know. Sleep? This is… You make me feel so good. Really. And that’s….“

His fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him. 

„How often?“ He asked again and you sighed. 

„Once,“ you mumbled.

„Once?“ He asked with wide eyes. 

„Yeah. But Joel… I like the way you fuck me. It feels good and I don’t care if I cum or if I don’t cum. And I mean it’s a business transaction really so it doesn’t….JOEL!“ You cried out his name when he grabbed you to lay you down, throwing the blanked off your body, his body caging you in. 

„Do not say that it doesn’t matter. Just because it’s business does not mean that it doesn’t matter that you don’t cum. Why didn’t you say anything?“ He asked.

„Because this is fucking awkward,“ you whined. 

„Doesn’t matter. I don’t make you cum, you tell me. Or better yet,“ he said as he slowly slipped down your body. 

„We not gonna leave this bed until I know exactly how it feels when you cum,“ he said and you felt his beard lightly scratch over your stomach, before he settled between your legs. 

„But Joel. You don’t have to do this. It’s just sex,“ you said and you saw him close his eyes before he took a deep breath and looked at you again. 

„Hasn’t been just sex for me for a while. Why do you think I keep looking for reasons to run into you,“ he said and it was like something clicked inside your head. You had been seeing him fairly often these last weeks. But he never talked to you. He sometimes nodded at you when you saw him, but there was nothing else. 

„So please, let me learn how to make you cum so I don’t feel like a dick who has been using the woman he’s been crushing on like a fucking teenager?“ He said and you grinned. 

„You are crushing on me? That’s adorable,“ you teased and he chuckled with a shake of his head before he kissed your inner thigh. 

„Not a big talker. But I now how to use my mouth in other ways,“ he winked before he licked through your folds, making you gasp. 

„And I need you to guide me, so I know what to do the next time,“ he said.

„Next time?“ You asked. 

„Next time,“ he nodded, before he began to eat you out.

He started slowly, his tongue exploring your pussy, humming at your taste. You could not take your eyes off of him. 

His strong arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs parted as wide as he needed while he nibbled and sucked and licked you, driving you positively insane.

Once he had you cumming on his tongue he used his fingers. Saving every single expression and sound you made to his memory so he would never forget what made you cum. 

In the early morning hours he had you coming on his cock, squeezing him so hard he almost spilled inside of you, yet he fucked you through your orgasm until he pulled out and spilled himself all over your pussy. 

You were almost asleep, exhausted and utterly satisfied from the five orgasms you had in the last hours, when you almost missed him pulling you against his chest and kissing your shoulder, mumbling a sleepy „Love you“ against your ear.

Making you fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

[allpiesforourown]

I know people hate “bully/victim” ships so IM SORRY theres just a silly modern au bully bingge idea i’ve been thinking about a lot lately .

cw for the above mentioned dynamic!!

Luo Binghe getting into some exclusive academy after finding out about his family’s inheritance. He immediately hates all these out of touch rich people… all of them except for Shen Yuan. 

They have a basic meet cute. Shen Yuan spills Binghe’s coffee and offers to buy him a new one, giving him a tour of their campus while they’re out. He introduces him to the librarians and the office staff. Binghe is certain this is way too good to be true, and Shen Yuan has got to have some ulterior motive. 

One some base level he knows Shen Yuan is a good person that is being kind for him for no particular reason. He’s seen him do the same for other people. But the idea of him being just one of the many people Shen Yuan is friendly with makes him feel bitter and self-conscious. So he’s like fuck it, I hate Shen Yuan actually he’s gotta be a green tea bitch or something (because if he’s not it will literally shatter his world-view if he finds out not all people are greedy and bad) 

Hear me out . listen. Pushing someone around is something that can be so homoerotic

Bingge picking on Shen Yuan and being super, super aroused the whole time. He’ll dump water on shen yuan as a joke, then ignore everyone else laughing bc shen yuan’s shirt is sticking to his skin and his nipples got hard because the water was cold-

Or he’ll take shen yuan’s glasses and hold it above his head so shen yuan has to stand on his tip toes and come really close to try to grab it back (one time he even tripped and fell against binghe’s chest!!) Because he’s nearsighted, sometimes Shen Yuan will even forget to put distance between their faces and be within kissing range while he argues with Binghe. 

Once he snuck into the changing room and stole shen yuan’s clothes so he would have to walk back to his dorm in his swim trunks. He definitely didn’t take pictures of Shen Yuan’s blushing face walking back to his room half naked and he definitely didn’t keep the clothes and sniff them like a weirdo haha…

It’s an average day for them (Binghe takes shen yuan by the wrists and holds him against the wall and calls him a fragile little princess and taunts him by saying he’s not strong enough to break out of his hold. Prime bullying tactic for someone you’re in love with 1. Binghe gets to see live reaction of sy’s face when he’s pinned down and struggling and can save that image for later use 2. Physical closeness, they’re practically pressed together 3. Shen yuan bruises easily and seeing binghe’s handprints on his wrists for like a week is super satisfying 4. Binghe can call him romantic pet names like princess or wife and shen yuan will just think binghe is calling him effeminate as an insult) 

Luo Binghe even lifts Shen Yuan’s hands above him to catch both wrists with one hand and says, “You can’t even get out if I only use one hand?” It makes Shen YUan flush red from humiliation in suuuch an adorable way. 

So anyway, Binghe is picking on shen yuan in the back room of some office somewhere, doing his whole routine because he’s been hurt too many times in life to be vulnerable with someone again and this is his only way to achieve intimacy with the person he loves. He’s been saving the “are you sure you’re a man? Maybe I should check” card for a long time and he’s so excited to use it. He’ll even say something about Shen Yuan’s dick being so short, he should just wear a skirt and become a real man’s wife, and that’s BULLYING, it’s NOT a kink, binghe does NOT jerk off to the thought of Shen Yuan wearing short dresses and greeting him home, he DOESN’T. (he does) 

Before he can fulfill this amazing plan, Liu Qingge, another man in their year, barges in?? Obviously, they fight and Binghe’s chance to feminize his crush slips through his fingers

The worst thing is ??? Liu Qingge rescued Shen Yuan like some righteous prince saving the damsel in a fairy tale. Shen Yuan is not allowed to have a storybook romance with someone else! He hates Liu Qingge so much it’s unreal

It becomes impossible to corner Shen Yuan and get some time alone. He and that Qingge guy are together more and more often. Liu Qingge is in the library carrying Shen Yuan’s books now? Now they’re always hanging out on the grass having lunch?? They’re discussing what electives they can take together?!?! 

It’s been like a month since he’s gotten to properly tease shen Yuan and he needs it bad. If he doesn’t pull down shen yuan’s pants in public to embarrass him (and see his ass) soon, he might actually die. 

Then he spots him: Shen Yuan walking to class. Unaccompanied.

Luo Binghe is so overcome with exhilarated relief, he doesn’t even think about what he’s gonna do. He just runs over, ignores Shen Yuan’s screaming, throws him over his shoulder like a bag of rice, and carries him away. 

Shen Yuan freaks the hell out because, okay, petty insults and light fighting are one thing, but he’s straight up getting kidnapped?? That’s not bullying anymore, that’s a crime!! 

Binghe knows he only has so much time before Qingge manages to find them. He needs somewhere he can hide – he races back to his room before he can plan any further. He throws Shen Yuan on the bed, locks the door, and sighs in relief. 

Shen Yuan is sure he’s gonna die. He has no idea what he ever did to piss Binghe off so bad. Yes, he spilled his coffee, but he got him another one! 

Binghe takes a seat on the bed as well. He averts his eyes away from him bashfully, but glances back periodically like a maiden trying to play coy. Shen yuan has no idea how to navigate whats happening. He backs up on the bed until he hits the wall and holds up a pillow like a shield, except- there’s something underneath. 

It’s the cucumber patterned gag boxers he got as a joke from airplane. No one in the world would buy them. “Is- is this my underwear?” 

Binghe lunges at him to knocks the evidence out of Shen Yuan’s hand, but instead pushes him onto his back and ends up with his hands on either side of Shen Yuan’s head. 

Shen Yuan is shocked in place. Binghe, on the other hand, is in bullying-cute-boy withdrawl. He sees Shen Yuan's beautiful face flustered by their position, on Binghe's bed, and POUNCES.

Now that Shen Yuan finally understands his feelings, Binghe has permission to torment him! And he does. For hours, with various tools and against every surface. 

[koiir]

꒰͡ ⠀ . ANOTHER GUY? ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis; When they meet the other guy in the relationship (your dog) for the first time! How do they act? Or rather, how does your dog act?

Gojo, nanami, megumi, yuji, yuta x gn!reader

Notes. Based on how possessive my little Aussie is whenever any guys are around me…(he’s a year old) . Not proofread . Fluff . Crack

SATORU G.

• First of all, he had seen your dog before you two got together. And let’s just say, he was not a fan of your dog. But maybe now that would have changed! Since you know, you love your dog and Gojo had stolen your heart! So they both have similarities right?

“The hell? Why does your dog keep trying to attack me!”

When he first entered through the door way, your dog instantly started to growl. It gets even worse when gojo tries to wrap his arms around you, cause your dog goes ballistic.

“I already told you idiot! It’s cause you keep trying to touch me and he doesn’t like that!”

Your dog is the one being held, not him! Why must he suffer just for you to be happy? The dog is rather cute, but what isn’t is how you fluff his hair up and give him little peaks all while he’s watching. Are you seriously that evil?

The little creature just won’t give in, and it’s like he’s doing it on purpose. Licking your face, cuddling with you, doing all the things gojo should be doing. (Maybe not the licking part) your dog even has his paw on your thigh!

“Does he always do that?”

“I literally told you that before we arrived.”

“My bad I thought you were joking.”

Most definitely rolls his eyes saying that.

The rest of day, his tries to play with your dog although he makes its worse since your near and the dog is already in extra protective mode.

Though since he is gojo…he did crack the system! Took him three hours to do so.

When you leave to get something, gojo sees that dog stop with his schemes and relax? Nahh you’re dog definitely got shy without you.

“Oh? Not so confident now I see.”

For the small 20 minutes you’re gone, the dog has seem to take a liking to him! Although slightly worried, the dog at least let gojo pet him now without any hesitation.

When you get back, you’re meet the sight of your boyfriend holding your dog up gushing on him like he’s his own dog.

“I see you two got along.”

“Of course we did! We both love the same person after all.”

It seems as though your dog can hear now, cause he jumps off of gojo and holds his ground near you as he growls at him once more.

This is definitely gonna take a while.

KENTO N.

• let’s be for real, your dog would love nanami no questions asked. He could already tell that the fellow gentleman to you is worthy of not being barked at! Though a little superstitious but that’s just because he’s meeting someone new.

“You can pet him you know…”

“You told me though that he barks at others near you, so I’m not taking my chances.”

“Weird though…he’s not barking or growling. Especially since your so close to me.”

You nudge nanami a bit playfully and he looks to you, seeing a soft smile on your face. He sighs softly before giving in and crouching down, your dog stays in it’s position although he starts to move, sniffing nanami’s hand. And then he licks it!

He’s a little taken aback, but the little gasp in your voice makes him melt seeing you so delighted that your dog looks him. Nanami then places his hand back on the dogs head after seeing those big eyes of his. (Similar to how he can’t say no to you when you give him that look)

You are most definitely pleased when nanami seems to have taken a soft spot for your dog, as time passes, he’s offered to walk your dog and even along the way buys him treats! Isn’t he just so caring?

Your dog can right next to you and will gladly let nanami stick close by, even going as far as holding your hand or his arms around you! It only warms your heart more when your dog sits beside him now.

After a couple days, Nanami ask you if he can take your dog out. He won’t say it outright, but it’s obvious to one that nanami has gained a liking to the little dog and caring for it as such. Walks around town with a cute dog by his side, contrasting to his intimidating present.

Quite the sight for sore eyes.

MEGUMI F.

• To be honest, it was a 50/50 in your mind. Animals in general liked megumi already, and he’s caring to them more than he is to most people. But you still hold a little doubt that your dog might view him as a threat since you know, you two are together. So why not see and get the answer you need?

It’s like the two are having a stare down, megumi looks down at your dog, and your dog stares at him with his ears up and alerted. Their eyes bore into the others and you feel almost uncomfortable. It’s like they’re speaking to eachother through the mind!

“The dog doesn’t seem to like me.”

His voice settled out the atmosphere as your dog has his ears dropped down, you can hear a little hint of melancholy in megumi voice. His lip is pulled into a frown but it’s almost natural, though you know too well that megumi is feeling a little disappointed. Especially for the care love, he holds for animals.

“I don’t think so exactlyy, I mean, he’s not growling. Especially since you’re pretty close to me.”

You lean closer into megumi which makes him startled a bit before he relaxes, he sees how your dog seems almost distant.

“Is he scared of me?”

“I don’t think so? Hold up…”

You move towards your dog as you pick him up, and megumi feels his heart swell at seeing your dog lick your face. He can definitely tell your dog cherishes you a lot.

You stand next to him once more, and the little dog looks even cuter up close. Though megumi is not going to admit that. The dog sniffs his clothes before moving his nose closer to his cheek. This isn’t exactly new, it’s similar in the way you do your fleeting cheek kisses to tease him or how his shikigami will act towards him.

“See? He just wanted to be closer to you.”

Your voice is quite as if cherishing this moment, it feels as though the proximity is making megumi flush. His head moves closer to the dog, and his hand meets the soft fur of the dog in your hands.

“Can I hold him?”

You hum out as you position your dog into his arms, megumi already knows how to hold the dog and tried to be as gentle as he possibly can. Seeing him so determined to make the dog feel at ease makes your heart pound, the soft spot megumi has for animals one you will always cherish.

Eventually, you two moved onto the couch and it seems as though megumi can’t get tired of holding your dog. He plays with him some, rubs his belly some, and once your dog gets tired, he uses megumi as bed for his rest.

“Looks like you won’t be able to move for a while huh?”

“Yeah…seems so.”

I think if you asked, he might be a little hesitant to bring out his demon dogs to meet the pup. Though one day you get lucky enough to see the three interact and megumi watching guard. Though you can tell he’s watching to see this moment for his own being, and a little smile can be seen on his face.

YUJI I.

• ultimate protective mode! Though he won’t say. Since you’ve told him how your dog can get, he hasn’t exactly been super affectionate with you because he feels as though your dog is going to to jump him. “He just might!” He tells you, and you can’t really deny it. Tries to act tough though when outside the door, but when it’s opened and he sees your dog, he becomes a little anxious.

“I think your dog already hates me…”

“Cmonnn it’s been one minute! Nothing has happened!”

“Yet.”

Yuji keeps his distance, it’s almost as if he has this invisible gear on to help protect himself from the little critter. The dog stares at yuji, and gets up from its place and walks towards him. Yuji looks to you, and then the dog, then he feels the dog sniff him.

“Hey little guy…”

Yuji thinks he’s safe, so he crouches down and tries to pet the dog although the dog did not appreciate his actions, biting his hand lightly while backing up.

“The hell?! He just bit me! Look!”

You try and not laugh, but yuji makes a distressed face as he moves towards you. Another big mistake.

“Yuji wait-“

Too late it seems, cause your dog just latched onto yujis pants making the boy gasp out…

“This bitch! I swear, why do you have him as a pet! He’s a little demon!”

“Yuji! Don’t say that he’s only a couple months old!”

Very not cool. Especially when you pick up your dog cooing at him to stop but turn a blind eye when he gives you those big dog eyes. Yuji watches as he makes a big huff in return.

Though, it’s not like your dog won’t ever warm up to yuji. In fact, he’s made it his mission to get your dog to like him as much as possible! After all, he wants your dog to like him enough so he can cuddle you when hes around.

A day is spent with your dog and yuji at the park as the have little runs together, where yuji learns that your dog is rather shy in public and around new people. Thus sticking close to him and allowing yuji to be affectionate with him.

The day yuji has achieved the best reward of all, is the day he can walk into your home and greet you with a hug without your dog barking. Your dog still sticks close by, but in regards for Yuji arriving.

Though it took some time, yuji comes to realize him and your dog are rather similar. In the aspect that both boys swear to protect you whenever they are around.

YUTA O.

• boy is nervous as hell to meet your dog, especially when you tell him your dog is quite protective over you and will bark or growl at those who are close to you. Which makes it hard for him since he’s rather clingy…but yuta tries to stay positive as he thinks of the possibility of trying to get your dog to like him. It breaks his heart if he can’t be able to get along with the dog you love so much.

“Yutaaa, come closer! I’m holding him so he can’t do that much if he doesn’t like you!”

Yuta can’t help but have a pout, though the need to be closer to you is killing him. He moves closer, and to his disappointment, your dog starts growling.

“Well…I don’t think that’s such a good sign.”

He sheepishly rubs at his neck and looks down, he sees you look saddened at this since yuta is just so sweet! How could your dog growl at him first meet?

Yuta can tell you’re trying so hard to get your dog to warm up to him, though your dog just can’t help but growl at yuta whenever he tries and calmly pet him.

“[name], it’s fine really! We can always try this another time!”

“But yuta!”

He tries to laugh it off, but inside he’s rather sad at this moment. Especially when your dog can cuddle with you and he has to watch from afar. Is this how it feels to be unloved?

With the hatred that he is dealing with from your dog, yuta can only try and help ease his way into your dogs heart. So thus trying to get to know the dog one on one!

At first, he kinda panicked with making sure he didn’t hurt your dog at all. Boy was so nervous when putting on his collar cause he thought your dog would bite him:( but your dog in fact did not. Instead, yuta spends the day with the little dog walking and learning how intelligent your dog is. He finds it amusing and feels content with the experience of today.

“Soooo, how’d it go?”

The boy walks in like a shining star as he smiles at you and then the dog next to him, yuta can only blush as he sees you.

“Good! At least I hope so…”

The fact that he still doubts himself makes you giggle a bit, before you feel the dip of the bed with yuta pulling you close and the dog jumping up with the two of you. The fact that it’s only been a day and your dog has completely changed around yuta actually surprised you. Though at least you can be affectionate with yuta now around him.

Yuta cradles the dog in his arms and the sight makes your heart clench, seeing him so happy with your dog is a miracle to you honestly.

“It’s like he’s our little child..”

Oh. That definitely had you alright.

a/n: idk why this turned out so long….personally I love megumis

[packsvlog]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[ruershrimo]

down bad fr | f.megumi x reader

@takumifujiwarastan remember how a while back you said here that it sucked how there weren't enough introverted girls, reserved girls etc. SO I did try writing this please enjoy their (gn reader woooo) emotional constipation even though the reticence of their personality isn't really highlighted eurgh

having a crush on megumi is so fucking stupid. it’s driving you insane. 

you can’t even talk to him. everything he does, everything he says— your heart leaps like a rabbit he casts, and your emotions soar into a terrifyingly messy mishmash of confusion and yearning and infatuation, and then everything in between. 

you feel helpless, vulnerable like this— rendered out of control of your feelings after years of emotional constipation and a harsh strictness on yourself to rein them in like a rowdy horse being whipped during derby matches. you’re a climber, you’re hanging precariously from a cliff with every interaction, a child standing before a blueprint with nothing but toy blocks and a kiddie hammer, a roomba with its sensors malfunctioning— you get the point. those were enough metaphors to delineate your predicament.  

well, he doesn’t even like you anyway, right?

but you want him so badly. 

you just want to hammer it into his thick skull. to just go, ‘hey, I like you even if you may not like me! just go out with me anyway!’ 

yet with each interaction you struggle even more. because how the hell do you confess to fushiguro megumi, much less go out with him and become his partner?

for years romance had remained nothing but a velleity, a nice fantasy you could slip into when your mind demanded respite in the form of escapism and jejune daydreams. but now that your adoration for him has made it all somewhat possible, you don’t know what to do— your control is being tended away from you, and the worst part is that you don’t even mind it that much. 

spiky black hair and eyelashes of silk pass you by, his scent as clean as freshly laundered sheets in hotels. at the start you had thought little about him beyond him being your classmate and eventually just your confidante. yet gradually, you surprised yourself. and everything about him is attractive nowadays: his hair, his pearlescent teeth, the viridian hue of his eyes— hell, he made even the way he drank coffee look like a model of a man in an antediluvian monochrome film of the sixties. and it was so normal, so average, that you were about to slap yourself for the fact that an everyday trait  of his had become something so lovely to look at just because it was him. megumi would hold the cup securely by his lithe fingers, the same one he spouted cursed energy from when summoning his shikigami, before lifting the cup up and bringing the brim to his mouth, his lips that never chapped. 

nobara asks whether he’s drinking black coffee to look cool around and attract people. needless to say, at least you were attracted. 

you hoped he didn’t see the way your face must have blanked out, gaze transfixed on his eyes as he took swigs from his mug. 

why’d he have to be like that?!

megumi continued looking at ozawa, the girl who had a crush on itadori— she was just like you for real, but with double the courage and half the emotional constipation. 

you hoped it would work out for her. that way, perhaps you could muster the strength and bravery to do the same, too. 

you take another look at him. he’s really pretty. had you kicking your feet in the air and all and then screaming in horror because of it, had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing. 

with the help of kugisaki and megumi, ozawa and itadori, the two of them are cajoled to go around tokyo together. it’s the best ‘date’ that the two of them can help the other two have, especially since itadori is dense as rocks (megumi’s probably worse based on your experiences, then) and ozawa is as shy as a touch-me-not flower. 

“oh, and [name],” megumi starts while nobara strolls ahead, all set to begin a new shopping spree. 

“ah— uh, yeah?” you stammer. 

“do you like me? romantically, I mean…” he scratches the back of his neck. 

what the fuck. is this seriously happening? right now? 

“huh? what? I—” 

“no, it’s just that— seeing ozawa made me think. I guess I never considered it an option, but I suppose I have had… feelings for you for a pretty long time…” 

“woah. ah, sorry, I meant— sorry, I’m just very surprised…” you scramble, your hands gesticulating all kinds of things in an exaggerated way of taking it back because yes you like him, you like him a lot— “I mean, I do like you! it’s just, fuck— uh, what do I say— I’m really scared. I thought you didn’t reciprocate at all.” 

“I could tell. but I…” he hesitates, “I overthought everything,” then with a frown, he goes, “gojo would have teased me if he was here.” 

“well, I– uh. we’re lucky he isn’t, I guess?” you pause, “...so what do we do now? are we a thing? are we dating? wait, am I going too fast? I, oh my goodness, I—” 

“would you like to?” he asks. your knees are about to buckle with every second he keeps his eyes on yours. 

“I…— well, I would.” 

“then it’s settled. can I— can I hold your hand, please?” 

“...okay.” 

with trepidation in your hands and your heart pounding in your chest, you inch your hands closer, saline sweat on them as if you’d dipped it into the sea. he keeps his gaze on yours— they’re as unsure as you are, his cheeks a slight scarlet, his eyes swirling with nervousness but a sliver of anticipation, of joy and relief. so he feels exactly the same as you do, then. 

his fingers find yours after a while, tracing along the lines of your palm like a blind man touching something for the first time. you want to learn to love and to memorise each nook and cranny of him starting with his palm, and for once emotional vulnerability is not that bad. 

kugisaki’s in for a shock as soon as she turns around. first it was itadori potentially having a partner before she does, and now megumi? 

imagine writing this because of being delulu abt an irl crush (i should be studying for my exams.) haha couldn't be me right (i'm so cooked)

[discopaddock]

I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC

SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.

Charles was angry. No, he was furious.

Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.

Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.

“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.

He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.

The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.

“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.

“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.

“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.

Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.

Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.

The girl had no idea what to do.

Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.

When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.

Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.

She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.

She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.

It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.

Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.

And now it was too much for adult Y/N.

She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.

And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.

Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.

He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.

She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.

“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:

“I don't wanna talk.”

So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.

The next hour went, well, silent.

Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.

The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.

It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.

Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.

The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.

He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.

“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.

“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.

“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.

The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:

“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”

Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.

“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.

“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.

“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”

“I love you” she mumbled.

“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.

masterlist

[ultravioletrayz]

a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?

so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader

yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg

you with me girlie?

Yes yes yes, totally with you.

The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!

@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy

Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to

A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot

Word Count: 1K

It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him. 

This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work. 

Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting. 

You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.

But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.

"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle. 

You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again. 

The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand. 

You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release. 

Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.

You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs. 

With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.

No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.

"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs. 

Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers. 

Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.

Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together. 

Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.

"Sólo para ti, hermosa."

sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DOES YOUR PERSON WANT TO DO TO YOU? 18+ themes.

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what the person you’re thinking about would do to you if they could, this was crazy so pick a picture to find out!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

Bro’s fantasising, I put my music on shuffle and got this one song which triggered a memory of when I had a crush on this girl and sat in the car staring out of the window creating scenarios about her to the song lmao, so I feel as though your person may be on the same wavelength as me.

My entire body hurt during this reading, I was having full body channeling which was crazy for me, but as soon as I wrote down that my back and stomach were killing me, the pain went away, so your person may want to metaphorically break your back and possibly even get you pregnant, I was also randomly sweating like crazy so it’s gonna be steamy when they get to have you, I feel like you guys will be going for multiple rounds until both of you are absolutely exhausted and can’t take anymore.

Not going to lie, I see this being someone from the past? #Fuckexes. (Not literally.)

Firstly they may stalk your social media or keep tabs on you, I notice someone gasping at the others breasts if you have those, if they have breast than I’m pretty sure you love them, this is the type of conversation when someone can’t stop looking at the others breasts and is barely paying attention to the conversation.

They wanna watch you play with yourself, they may even want you to send them a video of you touching yourself.

For some of you I can see that they like butt-play, and they like having from behind cus they really enjoy your butt and shoulders, they may like to leave kisses or hickeys on the back of your shoulders. They may also only really see you in a room full of people romantically, but I do get senses that this person may have or might cheat if you were or get into a relationship.

PILE 2

They wanna wine and dine you prior to having sex with you, and I think that they also want to learn what you’re into and have a long winded conversation about both of your boundaries. They also really enjoy your breasts, or you enjoy theirs, I can see that either of you may want to leave a lot of kisses or hickeys there; maybe even for other people to see if you or they enjoy wearing low cut shirts and dresses.

They seem very gentle and worry about your pleasure more than their own, they do want to do some type of butt stuff with you. (What is it with the butt stuff today?) They want to eat the booty or go the full way with it.

At the end they want you to reward their hard efforts with some good ole’ head.

PILE 3

They want to offer a relationship before having sex with you, I do get the vibe that this could be a future spouse who picks you up after heartbreak as we have both the 4 of wands and the 3 of swords. This is the tile of sex that has you forgetting about all the bad things in your life and in the world.

There’s only one card in the spread where she’s not covering her stomach and it’s while she’s watching him count his money so you may only think about getting pregnant after you know they have enough money to sustain you and the baby (they do, they live a life of luxury.) Or you may show them that you have enough money before they think of allowing you to get them pregnant.

They want to take you from behind, finally we have a pile that doesn’t refer to butt-play (amen.) They’re pretty masculine so they would want to take over all of the masculine roles.

You may find them sneaking a glance at your breasts when you first meet.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end

Thanks lovely!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words

When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince. 

“Rough practice?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. 

There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—

“Would you mind taking off your shoes?” 

“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better. 

You try again. 

“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny. 

You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart. 

“So, how was practice?” 

James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.” 

“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.” 

His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything. 

“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table. 

You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you. 

Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores. 

As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it. 

“What’d you do today, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.

And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care. 

“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.” 

“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full. 

You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day. 

Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying. 

You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter. 

“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.” 

“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.” 

Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave. 

“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.” 

You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.

He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched. 

“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway of your bedroom. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask. 

The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly. 

It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed. 

“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.” 

He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?” 

“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.” 

“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count. 

For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t. 

He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly. 

“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.” 

“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully. 

“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?” 

“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?” 

You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.” 

He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?” 

“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice. 

He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?” 

“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes. 

“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.” 

You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.” 

James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.” 

“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.” 

James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless. 

“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?” 

James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter. 

“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.” 

He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—” 

“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.” 

James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours. 

“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?” 

You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you, too.” 

That was never up for debate. 

[floralpascal]

The Best Lies

Summary: After you join the 141, Ghost does everything he can to fight his growing feelings for you. But during a night out with you, he finds it harder and harder to ignore.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: a little angst, Ghost agonizes over having feelings, canon-level violence, blood, alcohol/drinking, kissing, semi-public dry humping, fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship

A/N: This truly is 50% Ghost trying to ignore the fact that he's down bad and 50% depraved smut. Writing Ghost losing his mind over having feelings is truly so fun. I hope you all enjoy!

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

Ghost had convinced himself that he had done more than just nip his issue at the bud. He thought he had pulled it out by the roots and set it aflame, never to bother him again. 

And why would he think otherwise? He had done that same thing time and time again, and it had always worked. This time, he thought, would be no different. He had washed his hands of the issue and could continue on like before. 

The problem was that he was dead wrong. This time was different. 

You were different. 

You were the newest member of the 141, a sniper and one of the best hand-to-hand combat specialists he had ever seen. You were a strong woman who fought hard and fast, with an eye for precision. Price had been trying to get you onto the team for months, telling Ghost that he was convinced you were the perfect addition. Price had been right; you were perfect. You fit right in with the guys, kept up with their banter, and were as tough as nails. When you worked, you had a focus that was so zeroed-in that Soap and Gaz had started to liken you to Ghost. 

By all means, you were the best addition to the team that they could have asked for. You weren’t the problem. Ghost was the problem. 

What had started as a small acknowledgment of your attractiveness had slowly grown into something more. It was your quick sarcastic quips that battled with his own, your soothing demeanor and featherlight touch as you patched him up, your ability to make a terrible situation seem better than it was - the list went on. There was something there between the two of you, a connection that he had never experienced before. No, his attraction wasn’t just surface-level, it was something deeper. 

It was something that he wasn’t supposed to feel - on many levels. 

Ghost never got involved, period. He could acknowledge when a woman was attractive, have a night where he gave in to the physical aspect of it, but it never grew to anything. He didn’t let it. He would dispose of those feelings as soon as he registered them. In his line of work and in his experience, feelings were a liability - a luxury that he would always pay the price for. They complicated everything and unusually ended in pain. In short, they were a weakness that needed to be disposed of. 

What was more, you were his subordinate, his teammate. He was a professional, he never let himself feel anything like that for his subordinates. Hell, he barely even had what could be classified as friendships with his subordinates. Soap and Gaz had been the first he had ever shown his face to, and that was after fighting by their side for years. 

The bottom line was that Ghost didn’t let himself get distracted, much less get distracted by a subordinate who was just doing her bloody job. Yet, in a few short months, you had flipped everything Ghost thought about himself on its head. It was disorienting. 

Once he realized what was happening to him, he tried to put a stop to it. He worked with you when he had to, interacted with you when he had to, but besides that, he largely steered clear of you. Whether it was downtime at the base or a night out with the other 141 guys, if you were there, Ghost wasn’t. It was the only solution he had. 

If only it had worked. 

Even staying clear of you couldn’t stop the spread of whatever had taken hold of him. He slipped one day, imagining what your lips would feel like against his while you talked to Price, barely even realizing that he had been staring at your lips the entire time. Not too long after that, you had tried to get his attention while on an assignment, opting to whisper a low, breathless “Ghost!” into the comm. Going straight to the comm in his right ear, the low drawl of his name from your lips was almost like a siren’s call, sending a shiver racing down his spine as he responded back to you. Another day, he caught a glimpse of you training with Soap, watching as you passed his guard and kneeled between his legs as you continued to fight. The sight shouldn’t have sent his blood boiling or sent his thoughts straight into the gutter - you were just training. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw you look up at him as he swiftly left the training room, your piercing gaze following him as you helped Soap up from the floor. 

He didn’t feel anything for you. He didn’t feel anything for you. He repeated it like a mantra, like he could make it come true if only he said it enough, with enough conviction.

So why did he still have a knot in his chest every time he saw you? Every time you spoke through the comms directly into his ear, your voice strong and smooth as honey? Every time your eyes locked with his, an unreadable expression on your face?

He didn’t feel anything for you. He almost made himself believe it.

“Styx, get the fuck out of here!” He bellowed at you. “Leave me! That’s an order!”

It was a stealth job gone south nearly a year and a half after you joined the team, their intel leading them into a pretty nasty situation. Almost everyone had long retreated to safety. 

Ghost was hit, blood streaming from his right thigh. The bullet was still in the wound, making it bad enough to where he could barely put weight on it, considerably slowing down the two of you. He was a liability now, putting you both at risk of being killed or captured. You stayed with him nonetheless, shoulders set with determination. 

“Like hell,” you scoffed as you crouched down to where Ghost sat. Your face was dirty from the fight, your clothes scuffed and torn with a slice cutting through your sleeve from a bullet graze. He tried to push you away, continuing to order you to fall back with the others, but you refused, your burning gaze snapping up to meet his. “Either I get you out of here or we keep bickering right here until they find us and kill us! Your choice.”

Of course you wouldn’t leave him behind. It’s who you were. It’s what made you you, even if it was infuriating to Ghost. Even if he would have done the exact same thing you were if it was you with a bullet wound instead of him. 

His head starting to go fuzzy from the blood loss, his focus wavered.

“Hey,” you called, snapping your fingers in front of him before you started to check his wound. “Eyes on me, Ghost. Stay with me.”

After examining his thigh, you clicked your tongue before finally deciding that the makeshift bandage he had fashioned would be enough to suffice for now. 

Ghost let out a groan, finally letting you pull him up and wrap one of his arms around your shoulders. You took some of his weight, helping him limp a little faster now. He was putting you in more danger, that he knew. If you would’ve just listened to him, your chances of going undetected and making it out of there would’ve been drastically higher. But your grip on the strap of his belt to help ease the weight off of his leg was firm, refusing to let him go.

That same feeling nagged in the back of his mind as you dragged him with you, the blood loss making it harder to ignore the thoughts that he usually shoved down. 

You murmured words of encouragement to him as you walked for what felt like a lifetime.  “Come on, big guy, just a little more. Just a little faster.”

Ghost huffed a small laugh. He was in a haze now, letting words slip past his lips that he would normally have guarded against. “Can’t be sayin’ stuff like that, love. Might give a man the wrong idea.”

Your head snapped to look at him, surprise written in the pinch of your brows. Ghost found enough clarity then to shut up, the reality of what he had just said slowly setting in. Not only had he voiced a sentiment he had barely been willing to admit to himself, he had voiced it to you. 

You examined him for a moment with a confused, analyzing eye. Finally, you huffed out a laugh, your grip tightening on his belt as you readjusted his arm on your shoulder. Your eyes slid over his masked face, a flicker of amusement creeping into your gaze before you turned to look at your surroundings again.

After that, Ghost tried to hold on to every bit of self-control he had left to keep his mouth shut.

You both made it out that day, the two of you banged up and worse for wear, but alive. Ghost had been pretty out of it by the time you got him back to the exfil point. How you had managed to drag the both of you out of there while holding up a man as large as Ghost, he could barely remember, the whole event becoming fuzzier in his mind past the point when he had let those words slip to you.

The shot to his thigh had been a nasty one, leaving him bedridden in the medical area for the next few weeks, per the doctors’ orders. Price made sure Ghost didn’t try to disregard them. 

Ghost told Price what you had done, wanting you to get the credit you deserved for your bravery. Still, it didn’t stop him from thinking that you very well could’ve gotten yourself killed for him. The thought pulled at the familiar knot in his chest.

“What’re you in for?”

Ghost followed the voice to the doorway of his room only to find you leaned against the frame, a small, teasing smile on your lips. You were cleaned up now. Having donned a fresh set of clothes, you now wore a plain black T-shirt tucked into camouflage tac pants. Despite your teasing attitude, your eyelids were heavy, like you had barely slept in the two days you had been back on base. A thick bandage poked out from under your shirtsleeve, covering the area where you had been grazed. Other than that, you seemed like you were in one piece from the entire ordeal. 

Why did that revelation alone release some of the tension in his chest?

“Jus’ a scratch,” he rumbled. He couldn’t help but humor you a little. He gestured to the hospital bed and monitors surrounding him as he huffed, “Bit of an overkill if you ask me.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself off the door frame before coming closer. Voice laced with sarcasm, you said, “Yeah, okay, tough guy.”

It was quiet for a moment, the silence thick and heavy over the two of you. Your eyes slid over him, taking in his condition, your gaze almost too much to handle.

He didn’t feel anything for you. Under the weight of your scrutiny, the thought was more like a pleading prayer.

“You should’ve left me out there,” he asserted, trying to ignore his own thoughts. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands moving defensively to your hips. “I made a call and saved your life. You’d think that would count for something.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

“Listen, just because you can’t stand me doesn’t mean that I can’t make a call. You-”

“Is that what you bloody think?” Ghost spat, surprise creeping into his voice.

For the first time, he saw you hesitate. You blinked for a moment. 

“How could I not?” You finally retorted, stepping closer to him, your tired eyes alight with anger. “You avoid me like the damn plague, it seems like you can barely stand me, and you second-guess every call I make. Yet you treat all the guys like your brothers. You trust them when they make a gutsy call. And what? I’m supposed to think you respect me at all?”

Of course that’s what it looked like to you. You had taken his distance to mean that he didn’t want you here, that he didn’t think as highly of you as he did the others.

“I’ll only say this once.” Ghost leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours through the holes in his mask. “You’re wrong. You’ve got my damn respect - have had it for a while, even before this mission. I think you’re one of the toughest people here. But I still gave you an order. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. And that would’ve been on me.”

Whatever you were expecting to hear from him, it wasn’t that. You appraised him, squinting a little as you did. When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter, but still even. Still strong. “I’d do it again.”

Now, it was Ghost who was at a loss for words. He tried to ignore the intensity in your voice, the certainty. As if that wasn’t exactly his issue - that you would be willing to put yourself on the line for him again.

“Y’know,” you mused as you turned and walked back to the door, “usually people just say ‘thank you’ when you save their life.”

With one last glance at him over your shoulder, you were gone. 

~~~

In the months following your confrontation, Ghost stopped avoiding you at all costs, letting himself be closer with you again. The fact that you had taken his distance to mean that he thought less of you gnawed at him in a way that was damn near painful. Ghost’s issues were his own - he wasn’t going to take them out on you anymore by avoiding you. He shoved those thoughts for you down into the recesses of his brain, thinking that this time, the tactic might actually work. 

You seemed happy about his change in demeanor. While you said nothing to point it out, he saw how you gradually relaxed around him over time. You were quick to joke with him now, your sarcastic quips as precise as your aim, as if you knew that your banter made it easier for him. You were lighter with him now, ignoring the weight of that mission. Most of the time, he could, too.

Most of the time.

I’d do it again. The words rang in his ears each time he saw you now. They dug at him, called to him. It was maddening. The weight of those words remained heavy on his chest, their meaning something he was wary to look too closely into.

Tonight, he found you at a small pub a few streets over from the hotel the 141 had been staying at in some small Irish town, your elbows resting on the sleek wooden bar as you swirled a whiskey in its glass. You seemed deep in thought, your eyes only half-watching the amber liquid spin under the pub’s dim, warm yellow lights.

“The guys all leave?” Ghost asked, pulling you from your thoughts. A small smile played at the edge of your lips as you turned towards him, gently placing the glass back on the table.

“Yeah, they all left me,” you sighed dramatically. “Price went to see an old friend here in town. Soap and Gaz wanted to go check out a pub a couple blocks over from here.”

Ghost paused for a minute to order a bourbon from the bartender. “And you didn’t wanna go?”

You shook your head. “The place sounded a little too loud for my liking.”

Ghost made a noise in solidarity, picking up the glass the bartender had placed down for him. Your taste in pubs, he had learned, was close to both his and Price’s: laidback and quiet. Sure enough, this pub was just that. It was an old vintage-style pub, one that didn’t attract a loud, rowdy crowd. The small number of patrons were mostly older people - locals, by the looks of them - laughing softly as most of them paid attention to the football game on the television. It was the kind of pub people went to when they were looking for a warm, peaceful night. It made it easier to relax a little in this strange pub in this strange city. In your line of work, that was a difficult feat to accomplish. 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a while, both of you nursing your drinks.

But something was on Ghost’s mind, something that had been sitting with him for months. He broke the silence to say only, “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Ghost, an eyebrow raised. You hesitated for a moment, seemingly unsure that you had heard him correctly. “Huh? What for?”

“I never said it,” he explained simply, voice even and calm. “For savin’ my life ‘n all.”

You appraised him for a moment, taken aback by his admission. The two of you had barely talked about what happened that day. Finally, you nodded. “Still think I was wrong for disobeying your order?”

“No,” he admitted, quickly adding, “just don’t make a habit of it, yeah?”

You nodded, chuckling a little before you took the final sip of your drink. “Of course.”

It was quiet for another moment before you set your empty glass down with a clink. When the bartender came back around, you handed him enough money to pay for both your drinks and Ghost’s. Then, you turned back to Ghost and said, “You sure are… talkative when you get shot.”

Ghost averted his eyes from you at that, opting instead to watch the other patrons as they celebrated their team’s goal. His only response was, “It was blood loss.”

When he looked back to you, your piercing eyes were trained on his. You seemed like you were trying to piece him together, to figure out the puzzle of him. 

“Blood loss or not, I never took you as the kind of guy to have his head in the gutter like that,” you teased, your tone light. Underneath the teasing tone though, laid something more serious. Something Ghost hoped he was wrong about. 

“I’m not.” It was a lie. He knew it. The worst part was that you knew it, too. 

A smirk played at the edge of your lips at that.

“Sure you’re not, Ghost,” you teased. You stood from your seat then before you leaned in close to Ghost’s ear, your hand gliding along his shoulder. Voice near a whisper, sweet and honeyed, you added, “Can’t be saying things like that, then. Might give a girl the wrong idea.”

With that, you were gone. By the time Ghost turned around, you were halfway to the door, shooting him a sultry, burning look over your shoulder. It was a look he had never seen from you before, a look he was sure was aided by the whiskey you had been drinking. It was an invitation extended to him under the dim yellow lights of the pub.

It was the first blatant sign he had seen that you were interested in him like that - that it hadn’t just been him afflicted by whatever this was. 

In the split second your eyes locked with his, a million thoughts ran through his mind, all saying that he definitely shouldn’t take the invitation, shouldn’t follow you. For one, it would undo all the work he had done to ignore his own thoughts about you. Not to mention the fact that he was your superior and all the hardline rules that very clearly stated that he shouldn’t unless he wanted to risk his entire career. 

But what if he did? What if he gave in to you this one time? What if all he needed was a night with you to finally get you out of his damn head? He could have you once and finally be able to get over the hold you had on him. To let go, maybe all he had to do was give in.

Fuck.

Ghost abandoned his seat in a moment. Weaving his large frame through the tables and patrons, his eyes were trained on you as you slipped through the front door. He caught it right as it swung closed from you, hot on your tail. Pushing out into the cold, crisp night air, he found you barely two steps away from him. You turned when you saw him, a small smile blooming across your face.

Ghost was on you, his hands grabbing your hips as he pulled the both of you into the alley. Shrouded in darkness, he pressed your back to the brick wall of the pub before shoving the lower part of his mask just above his mouth. Before he could even move again, your hand came to wrap around the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a rough, messy kiss. 

It was better than he imagined. You were better than he imagined, the feeling of your plush lips on his almost making him forget why he had held himself back from you for so long. 

He caged you in against the wall, one hand grasping against the rough, scratchy surface as he leaned in while the other held your head in place. You pulled at him, fervent and insistent as you drew him ever closer to you. Shifting in your hold, he slotted his knee between your legs, maneuvering so that his large, muscular thigh rested against your clothed center. When you gasped against him, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours, the thick, heady taste of your whiskey mixing with his bourbon. It was the taste of you, though, that was intoxicating. More so than any drink he could have ordered. 

As you ground down against his thigh, your tongue met his with equal fervor. And while you grasped the back of Ghost’s mask in your desperation, he knew you would make no effort to pull it from him. How he knew that was a mystery even to him. All he knew was that the way you tugged at his hair through the mask sent him careening over the edge of a chasm that he couldn’t see the bottom of.

His hand left the wall beside you to firmly grasp your waist, urging you to increase the speed of your hips against him. Flexing his thigh, another gasp fell from your mouth. It was maddening, a sound he knew he had to draw out of you again, only louder and unobstructed. The sound shot through him like adrenaline, fast and exhilarating. 

For the first time in a long time, Ghost felt truly awake. It was like a fire had been lit in his veins and you were the gasoline fueling the raging flames. 

Suddenly, a loud group of people passed by the alley on the adjoining street, voices ringing out in conversation. All at once, Ghost was reminded that you were both out in the open, albeit tucked into a dark alley. You broke from the kiss, your mind seemingly on the same track.

“My room,” you offered breathlessly. “At the hotel.”

“Lead the way, Styx.”

You made the quick walk back to the small hotel with Ghost in tow, winding through the dimly illuminated streets and alleys with an illicit sort of stealth and swiftness, the both of you keeping an eye out for any of the other guys along the way. While you both knew that you wouldn’t see any of them again tonight, neither of you could seem to help it. You both knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. 

Yet, neither of you put a stop to whatever this was either.

Ghost had you pressed up against the door to your room the moment you locked it, your back to his chest and arms extended to brace yourself against the sleek black wood. His mask once again pushed to just under his nose, he lavished hungrily at your neck just below the ear, earning another sharp gasp from you. His hands dipped to the front of your jeans, racing to blindly undo them. Movements deft, efficient, and precise, his fingers were quickly past the undone line of your jeans and slipping under the band of your underwear.

“You want this?” he rasped, both because he needed the confirmation that you were completely in and because he wanted to hear the way you would sound.

“Yes,” you rushed almost immediately, a newfound desperation lining your voice. You moved your ass back against him, pressing yourself against his covered erection and he had to hold himself back from rutting into you. “Fuck, Ghost…”

Ghost nipped at your ear as he stilled your hips, his right hand drawing lower under your underwear. 

“Easy,” he warned. ”Gotta open you up first.”

With that, his fingers finally met your core, gliding through your soaked folds. He groaned at the feeling of you already dripping for him, your underwear even damp with your arousal. He dragged some of your slick up from your entrance until he found the small bundle of nerves that had you rolling your hips forward in his grasp. Completely encircling you from behind with his body, he held you flush to him while he rubbed hard and fast circles between your thighs. 

Melting into his touch, you started to move your left hand from the door to grasp for him. His free hand stopped you in only a moment, grabbing your wrist and replacing it back in its previous position.

“Hands stay there,” he ordered. For once, you actually listened, opting instead to claw your fingers against the wood as he slipped two fingers past your entrance and into your heat. He moved achingly slow at first, letting you feel the way his fingers dragged along your walls, filling and stretching your tight cunt already. You moaned, your head falling back to rest against his broad chest. 

“Ghost… Ghost, faster,” you pleaded, voice airy. The satisfaction he got from your desperate request was all too strong, more than he had ever experienced before. It shot through him like a drug, fast and disorienting. 

He picked up the pace, steadily building up to a pace that had your knees ready to give out. Wrapping his free arm around your middle, he held you steady while he wrecked you with his fingers. He tried not to think about the fact that it had only been a few months ago that it had been you holding him up, that now he got to return the favor to you in a much more pleasurable way. 

When you cried out for him, Ghost whispered into your ear, parroting your own words from that fateful mission, “Just a little more.” 

With that, he added a third finger, holding his blistering pace. The sounds you made were utterly debauched, utterly sinful. He should have been worried about how loud you were - surely others in the hotel could hear your moans. You would be lucky if there weren’t complaints to the management by morning. It was reckless… but Ghost couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too enraptured by the ringing of your voice as you fell apart beneath his touch. 

It only took another minute for you to come undone around him, your muscles tensing around his fingers, squeezing him as your mouth fell open in a silent scream while he worked you through it. 

After you had begun to relax, a sweet whine leaving your lips, he finally slowed his pace to a stop. He pulled out of you then, drawing his hand up to his mouth to suck them clean. Eyes blown wide with lust, you turned to watch him as he slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the tang of your cum one that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget. You watched his display until the tip of his middle finger left his lips. Then, you turned so swiftly he could barely register it and pushed up to kiss him again, your tongue dipping into his mouth to taste yourself as you threw your arms over his shoulders. 

A groan left Ghost, one that surprised even him. It was so much. The taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your body under his hands, and the way you grasped at his back to pull him closer all had his head swimming, his usual cool-headed clarity quickly becoming muddled. His heart was hammering in his chest, his cock so hard it was aching in his jeans.

Alarm bells rang in his head, telling him that he was in too deep. Never had he ever been this… wrecked from sex before he had even gotten his cock out of his underwear. Something was different this time. That feeling was back in his chest - the one he wouldn’t put a name to. 

But he couldn’t turn back now. His sense was far too gone for that. 

Ghost effortlessly lifted you up from the floor before carrying you to the bed. When your back lightly hit the mattress, your mouth open in a surprised oh, he was already on top of you. He helped you peel the clothes from your body, his own clothes soon joining yours on the floor, save for the mask. 

You looked so beautiful like this, spread out under Ghost like a dream. It was like every one of his long-ignored thoughts about you had come to life. Your hungry eyes, the way he could see every dip and plane and curve of your body like this, the way you practically glowed in the moonlight that poured into the darkened room… the sight made him finally let go of all his inhibitions about having you. He would deal with the consequences later. 

Suddenly, he realized that he had just been staring at you. 

You quirked an eyebrow at him, an easy smile on your lips. “Enjoying the view?”

In lieu of a reply, he leaned down, grabbed your chin, and smashed his lips into yours as he ground his hips against you, his cock sliding along your slickened folds.

“Ghost,” you breathed against him. He wished you wouldn’t say his name like that - like he was something good for you. Yet, it still only made his cock ache more. “Just - fuck - just fuck me already.”

“This isn’t gonna be soft, Styx,” he warned, lining his cock up with your entrance. 

You gave him a small smirk, eyes full of mischief as you replied, “Good.”

Fucking hell, you were trying to kill him. 

Ghost pushed inside of you slowly at first, reveling in the way you felt around him as you squeezed him, all molten heat and velvet. He draped himself over you, one hand planted on either side of your head, and watched as your eyes rolled back, your breathing becoming ragged once again. Your nails bit into his shoulder blades as you tried to adjust to him, the sting ever so satisfying against his skin. 

“You’re s-so - ah - so big,” you mumbled, almost to yourself. 

Buried to the hilt in you, he waited until he felt you begin to relax.

Then, Ghost threw himself into the flames. 

He almost drew out of you completely before slamming back into you. And if he thought your sounds before were something to behold, the moans you let out now were nothing short of divine. Again. And again. And again.

He fucked you into the mattress so hard the bed shook and groaned with the force of each thrust, devolving into one never-ending cacophony as his speed increased. Your tits bounced with each impact and he dropped his head to take one nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue before moving to the other. Using one hand to hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you roughly fisted the sheets with the other, searching for any point of stability you could find as your world rocked. 

When he lifted from your chest, he found your head tilted back on the mattress, neck outstretched and straining. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your face contorted in pure pleasure. 

Yet, something gnawed at Ghost, an urge so deep and so powerful he was useless to hold out against.

“Eyes on me, Styx.”

Your eyes blinked open, fluttering for a moment as you tried to refocus your gaze. Finally, your eyes locked with his, as piercing as ever. That feeling flared in his chest again, his next few thrusts even harder than before. It was like he was drowning, only in the best possible way.

He watched the force of each thrust as it rocked through you, every twitch of your face and desperate grasp of your hand in the sheets. He watched the way you drank him in, eyes hooded and hungry as they held his gaze. 

“Ghost.” 

It was a plea. A demand. One he was all too eager to give in to.

Connected your lips again as one of his hands wound up to the hand you had fisted in the sheets. His fingers wrapping around your wrist, he guided your hand above your head and pinned it to the mattress. He felt you groan into the kiss before you slipped your tongue into his mouth, heated and messy. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was all too much. He was enjoying this all too much. You were too good, too addicting. 

You were taking him deeper than he had ever been. Your cunt threatened to pull him under, the pleasure of your tight walls too intense. He was only a step away from the edge, having to hold himself back from going over before you. 

Ghost used his free hand to grab one of your legs and hook it over his hip.

Like this, his movement told you. 

Taking the hint through your haze, you brought your other leg up around his hip and locked them together behind him. 

Instantly, you broke from the kiss, a broken moan ringing in his ears and vibrating against his lips. They flowed freely from you now, the beautiful sound filling the room. He couldn’t hold in his own grunts anymore, one for every snap of his hips against yours. 

Ghost felt you tense a moment before it happened, your body going rigid and your moan abruptly cut. Then, you were squeezing him so tight, it ripped a deep, guttural moan from his chest. The force of your orgasm rocked through you, seeming like you were trying to pull him over that same edge with you. Surely enough, with a few more rocks of his hips, he felt that heat as he released, coating your walls with his cum, your release taking every bit of him with you. 

Before he could pull out of you, spent and panting, your hand found his covered cheek, the cloth warm under your touch, and guided his lips back to yours again. Your kiss was slow. Deliberate. Heavy. A hint of something deeper on your lips. 

And as he ducked out of your room that night, the moonlight seeming dimmer in his room than it had been when it was illuminating your face, Ghost tried to push all his thoughts of you away for good. 

He had his fill and now he was done. 

He could move on. 

He didn’t feel anything for you. 

They were all good lies. For the best lies were the lies he told himself. 

[essentiallyleaf]

day 06. dacryphilia. with. karina.

964 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, friends to lovers(?), dacryphilia (that’s being aroused by tears btw), deepthroating, sex toys, choking, overstimulation, tit slapping, basically unedited, boring tags.

notes.

a little bit of a shorter one today, i was planning on releasing a different fic, but didn’t like how that was coming out and had to write this last second. hope it’s not too bad. weepily, leaf.

It was the exact moment you reached the back of her throat that Jimin’s eyes started to glisten. Not the same way they did when you suggested pizza night to her, no, it was obviously a lewder, more desperate way, but somehow still as affectionate, as enthusiastic do be able to spend time with you doing something that she loves. And while it was clear since you two were best buddies in high school that she loved eating an entire burrata pizza while watching baseball with you, it took a little longer for her to find out that she loved leaving cherry lipstick marks on the base of your cock while you deepthroated her, as well.

Then Chaehyun’s house party happened. Chaehyun was one of Jimin’s best friends since before you knew her, you weren’t particularly close to her, maybe she was jealous of you, the shiny, (only relatively) new boy that just popped up in high school, and quickly became the person Jimin shares her secrets with - one time, she told you, she was trying to flirt with this girl that was in her French class, so she made a paper plane with her number written on the inside and threw it at her, but the paper plane “got caught in the wind” (“It was poorly built, just say it!” “Bro, bet that if we built one each right now, mine would fall further!” - it did) and hit the teacher’s back; fortunately he didn’t open it and just threw it in the bin thinking it was a joke in bad taste, but when at the end of the class she asked the girl out, the girl completely freaked out, telling her that she wasn’t out yet and that if her parents found out she’d be dead; they never spoke again. Or maybe she wasn’t jealous and you were just trying to demean her because you felt that this competition for being Jimin’s one and only was a real thing.

Anyway, late into Chaehyun’s house party, you and Jimin started nosing around in her upper floor, and specifically her room, and she found this purple vibrator (she said she had no idea it was there, but you knew she had been in that room before plenty of times - you’re not trying to imply anything, just, she is the type of girl who might decide to pull someone else’s sex toy out in front of you, because she knows what would happen if she did). What happened after she did was you on top of Jimin with a hand on the vibrator circling around her clit and the other around her throat, choking her. Tears were falling down each side of her face when she came.

Jimin rocks your world. It took you a while to find out all the ways in which she does (well, all the ones you know thus far), but what matters is, you got to that conclusion. And you got to that conclusion in a flash, it took one moment. It was a normal school night, it doesn’t matter when. The two of you were having sex missionary in your shared apartment - the decision to rent one together when you’d be in college came at the end of 10th grade; it was already clear by then that you’d have to deal with each other’s presence for a while. She had just had her third orgasm, some tears already shed in the first two, and her eyes were now closed in absolute bliss. You grabbed her chin: “Open up - glistening, I tell you - and look at me. Don’t close them anymore, ‘kay?”

You resumed your pumping while she was still sensitive, you heard her whining because of it. Her huge, fluffy tits were bouncing in a hypnotizing motion, begging to be touched. That’s a euphemism, you thought, as you smacked her left boob with your right hand. The yell that left her throat was the loudest of the night. What would the neighbors think? (What would they be thinking? “They’re fucking. It’s the sixth time this week.” That’s no news.)

Your eyes went back to hers. She hadn’t closed them, the good girl. And now her lips were quivering. Slap her right mound. Then back to the left. As you kept thrusting your hips into hers, Jimin started weeping.

“Look at me. I am so close. You’ll need to endure for me just a little more”

You weren’t lying, but let’s just say you didn’t take the quickest route. You detoured by going back to smacking the girl’s tits repeatedly, and now she was bawling. You took her hands and lifted her up, now basically kneeling on the bed, then wrapped your arms around her back as you pumped upwards into her pussy. She screamed her lungs out, as she probably reached her fourth, but it wasn’t her voice, it was her legs instinctively meeting on your back that spoke to you. And what they were saying was “I need it inside”. You heard her loud and clear, and deposited buckets of cum in her belly. Still completely wrapped around each other, the two of you fell back onto the bed, panting. Her entire face was wet in tears, her mascara completely ruined.

Jimin rocks your world. It’s when you look at her in the eyes that you can just tell. One moment. You were so focused on her, on keeping her happy and on not sharing her with anyone else, that you never realized how good you felt around her, how good she made you feel.

“How about I help you clean your face from your make-up?”

“I think I’ll need to clean down there, too”

Some of your cum was already flowing out of her pussy.

“Shower with me?”

-

footnotes.

i wonder if you can make a smut only describing stills and never an actual scene. experimentally, leaf.

[lurochar]

A Daily Stroll

Based on the Alastor comic

Warnings: I am really really bad at writing at headcanons it seems

---------

It was a daily routine for you and Alastor to go on strolls around the streets of Hell. Despite the fact you and Alastor having been together for almost the entirety of his reign as an Overlord, Sinners still have trouble seeing the sadistic Radio Demon in any part of a romantic relationship.

You were Alastor’s assistant in life, but never married. Of course, there were questions about your exact role, as there were scandalous rumours flying about. Alastor paid you well enough that you could support yourself.

You were murdered about five years after Alastor’s own death by one of his victim’s family members, believing you were his accomplice.

It was one of his few regrets, not confessing to you. He just didn’t want to drag you down with him if he did ever get caught for his crimes. He’s honestly surprised to find you in Hell, but now he has his second chance and he isn’t wasting it.

You accept and so your daily life as the wife of the Radio Demon begins.

Everyday, you and Alastor go to the same cafe with the same shaky nervous waiter. Alastor just ‘tsks’ at you when you throw a few crumbs of your meal at those hungry-looking birds watching your every move. “Darling, don’t waste food on those filthy scavengers.” It doesn’t take him long to join you if the food isn’t to his liking, though.

Next on your stroll, is a park where naturally flowers bloom, which is a rarity in Hell. In life, Alastor had given his mother flowers on the regular and you red roses in particular. Now, he can no longer touch any flower without them immediately wilting, which is quite the shame.

You had long since noticed his annoyed sneer when yet another rose withered in his fingers and you smiled, reaching into your coat. “It took me a while, but I finally learned to make this!” You said excitedly. “Please, bend down for me!”

Alastor’s eyes gain a curious look, but he does as you ask and bends down. A brow raises when he feels you tying something around one of his ears and watches as you stand back and seem to stare at him proudly. “Now what is this?” He reaches up to feel what it is.

You reach into your coat again. “Paper flowers.” You hold one out for him to see. “I know, it’s not as pretty as the real thing. But… but I thought I should try something?”

“It’s lovely, Darling.” 

And so is your proceeding smile.

Cannibal Town is both charming and daunting. Your tastes are not the same as Alastor’s and it’s always a bit unpleasant to see a group of Sinners feasting upon some poor soul unfortunate to wind up as their dinner, but this is Hell and you are no judge.

“Morning, Alastor~♡!” 

It was a swarm of women with hearts in their eyes and blood dripping down their faces and Alastor politely bows his head in return. “Good morning, ladies.” His ear, with the paper rose still tied around it, twitches at your laugh. He’s only being a gentleman, after all. He can’t ignore a greeting from a lady. “Give Rosie a hello from me!”

“Popular as ever, I see.” You say teasingly as Alastor veers you away, not wanting to deal with flirting women when he was out with his wife. “I guess that’s what I get for marrying a celebrity, hmm?” 

He’s content you’re secure enough not to be jealous – he couldn’t even fathom the thought of ever straying from you.

“Speaking of celebrities…” You cough, noting the demons who are just staring blankly into the windows of the stores you both are passing. You grimace and Alastor sneers at the sight of Vox on the TVs. “Is he still…?”

“Madly obsessed with the both of us? Very much so.” Alastor grips his microphone cane harshly, his voice breaking the hypnotizing spell on the two Sinners standing there. “There really is nothing good on these picture box shows, hmm?” The demons instantly run. “Come, Darling. No need to waste time here. A new meat shop has opened and I would like to try it.”

You both stroll along until you reach the meat shop Alastor was talking about. There was a boar butcher, who looked nervous at the sight of the famous Radio Demon. “My good man. I do hope you have fresh venison! My wife and I are partial to it, you see!” Alastor grins and the butcher shudders.

The meat is packed quickly and you and Alastor are on your way out of the shop, passing a lamb Sinner. It only takes a moment, but screams are heard and you both stop and you can see Alastor’s smile is tense. That butcher was a fool, it seemed. You both are back in the shop to see the lamb being choked by the butcher.

“You know, I do really hate those who can’t show a little more respect to those of fairer means.” Alastor is shifting into his more demonic form and you are left to comfort the lamb. “It’s rather distasteful. LIKE BAD MEAT.” Now the butcher is the one screaming and you usher the crying lamb out of the shop.

It’s not long at all before Alastor exits with a bloody bag in hand. “It’s not as tasty as venison, but won’t boar do for tonight’s dinner, Darling?” He grinned and you laughed nervously, blinking when the lamb shyly pulled on your arm with tears in her big eyes.

“T-thank you for saving me!” She squeaked. “How can I repay you? This happens to me a lot.” She confessed. “I’ll give my soul for protection.” 

You are taken back by her blunt offer, but Alastor is used to this sort of thing and it’s clear he does not see any worth in the lamb’s bid and he summons a card out of the air to hand to the lamb. “My dear, go to Cannibal Town and ask for Rosie. Perhaps she can be of some assistance to you? Do keep that card on you, otherwise you will end up as mutton.” Alastor sends the lamb off on her way.

“So kind of you, Alastor~”

It was just another daily stroll with your Radio Demon.

[bad268]

Omg I just read your new kimi fic (with the chronically ill reader) and I love it so much! Soo literally anything else for kimi would be amazing (there's so little fics for him istg) but if its okay I'd love a figure skater reader (but like professional, world champion kind of skater) who's currently not competing cos she injured herself kinda badly (preferably smth to do with her acl but anything is fine) so she can't skate atm (like kinda Angsty but also fluffy, maybe kimi comforting reader or smth?)

Otherwise I'd also love same concept with figure skater reader and her and kimi going skating and like her teaching him or smth haha

Thanks so much in advance already <3

Go for the Gold (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Figure Skater! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! I'm glad you liked it <3 I may or may not have semi-based this on Sasha...)

Warnings: Drugs (pain meds)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1040

Summary: Silver will have to do until you can get back on the ice.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

As if finishing second in the Olympics wasn’t a hard enough blow, you landed wrong during a practice jump and made a worse injury for yourself when you proceeded to compete on it. Yes, it wasn’t your main jumping leg, but that did not mean you didn’t stand on it during certain moves. And yes, silver was good, but when you set a world record in your program, maybe you set the expectations too high when you expected gold. Your teammate ended up getting gold. 

You just got back to your apartment in Italy after a medical appointment. Of course, you tore your ACL. And to make matters, worse, your boyfriend was out for testing all week. That just added salt to the wound.

Your parent dropped you off after you assured them you would be fine as you hopped up the stairs with your crutches in hand. You would not be able to get in for surgery for at least a week, so you had to suffer in pain for the next few days until the doctor scheduled you. 

You hobbled up to your door, trying to fish out your keys one-handed while simultaneously balancing on one leg. Usually, it would not be difficult, but you were still in pain and still felt the effects of the pain meds. It was a little harder than you remembered. You finally got your keys out, and of course, you dropped them.

“Can anything go my way for once?” You groaned to yourself as you tried to grab them. Just when you touched them, a hand came out to swipe them off the ground as another hand wrapped itself around your torso and pulled you toward the door that you just now noticed was open. You looked up at the person, dazed, to see Kimi holding you up. “When did youtube here?”

“Testing ended yesterday, I thought I texted you?” Kimi replied as he lifted you, grabbed your crutches, and carried you into the apartment. He carried you all the way to the common room where he set you on the sofa and handed you the remote. You took it from him with a glare as you pulled out your phone to show him no messages.

“Does it look like you texted me? No. You didn’t,” You snapped as you threw the remote to the side as you opted to stay on your phone. “Would’ve been nice to have you with me, but no, You were here chilling while I was getting drugged and x-rayed.”

“I must’ve forgotten to send it,” He muttered as he pulled out his own phone. Indeed, he did forget to hit send. He wanted to be upset at the attitude from you, but he’s been with you long enough to know that when you get hurt, you get mad. It’s never directly at him, moreso at yourself, but that did not mean it hurt any less. He knew the best way to go about this is to give you space for a while.

So he left you alone. As soon as you snapped at him, you felt bad, but you couldn’t follow him because he left your crutches against the far wall. You had to just sit there in the hole you dug and wait for him to come back. 

What felt like forever to you was more like an hour for Kimi. How did he know? Because he cooked you your favorite food (that he knew how to cook) as an apology. He went to hide away in the kitchen, so he could still keep an eye on you while also focusing on food. If you were still on the meds, you would be hungry after they wore off, he thought.

He was right because he peaked over to the common room when he heard rustling, and he saw you trying to stand up using the table. It was not nearly tall enough to provide adequate support, so you kept falling. He ran over to help support you, and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes when you noticed he was the one helping you.

“I’m sorry I’m being difficult, Kimi,” You whispered as you leaned into his shoulder and cried. ”It’s just a lot, and I didn’t plan on being injured, and I know I’m not the nicest when I’m injured, and I know I snapped at you-”

“And I know you’re sorry, and you don’t have to apologize,” Kimi chuckled as he cut off your rambling. Every time you got hurt, you would apologize profusely every time you snapped, but it became something he would look forward to. It usually means the initial pissy mood was gone until the (inevitable) next injury. “I made your favorite to cheer you up a bit? Are you hungry?”

“Are you a mind reader?” You gasped as you snapped your head up to meet his eyes. “Did you know I was craving it?”

“I just know you like to eat it when you’re feeling down,” Kimi consoled as he helped you toward the kitchen island to sit. Then, he went around to plate up your food. “It’s known to give you strength. Maybe enough to get you back on your feet sooner.”

“Oh, I wish,” You sighed as you began to eat the food. “This is amazing, Kimi! Who knew you could cook?”

“You’ve known I could cook for years since you taught me how to make it!” Kimi defended himself. “And what’s with the ‘I wish’? Something happened at the appointment?”

“Just that they can’t get me in until next week at the earliest,” You groaned as Kimi took his seat next to you. “Looks like you and I are gonna be attached, more than usual, for the foreseeable future. At least a week wait for the surgery, then a 9-month recovery period. Therapy won't start until at least a month post-op.”

“And I’ll be here the entire time,” Kimi comforted as you leaned into his side. He left a kiss on the crown of your head before whispering, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get the gold next time. You’ll come back stronger than ever. I think this is the start of your comeback story.”

~~~ Part 2 ->

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