#But anyways this one is special! I think it is called a desk. anyways parte 2

[bellflower-goat]

:]]]

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[wandascosmic]

whatcha doing with a boy like that? (1)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part one of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1348

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“I have a question for you,” Wanda whispers. 

You smile, leaning further over Wanda’s receptionist's desk to hear the question. 

You can see Wanda suppressing a laugh as she says, “Are you going to Jennifer’s cat party on Sunday,” finally breaking as she finishes her sentence.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe how serious she is about her cats.”   

Wanda looks up at you from her chair smiling at you, and you smile back, secretly pulling out a container of mixed berry yogurt from behind the desk and placing it on the elevated edge along with a metal spoon on top of the lid. 

“You made me forget what I came here for,” you say, pointing towards the yogurt. “Special delivery of a mixed berry yogurt for your afternoon snack break.” 

Wanda grins and takes the items from her best friend. 

“You know my favorite flavor of yogurt?” 

“Nah, it was the last one in the fridge.” 

Wanda’s face falls. 

You smile. “I’m kidding,” you say, bringing the smile back to Wanda’s face, “of course I know the same flavor of yogurt you’ve eaten for the past 7 years.” 

Vision doesn’t. Wanda thinks in her head. But that’s fine, he only sees her at the end of the workday, so it makes sense that you would know instead. 

You’re about to ask Wanda what’s wrong since you see her lost in thought, but you’re both suddenly interrupted. 

“Y/N!” Tony, your boss calls out. “Stop giggling with Maximoff and get back to work!”

“Since when did you care about your work Tony?” Nat calls out. 

“Good point,” he responds, walking back into his office.

You turn to look at Wanda giving her an apologetic look. “I should probably get back to work anyways,” you tell her, pointing at your desk over your shoulder. 

Wanda nods, a little deflated on the inside since you’re the only thing that makes her work day more interesting. 

You sigh as you sit down at your desk, picking up your phone to make a few sales calls. 

Wanda does the same, doing her job of answering the ringing phone with ‘Shield Industries this is Wanda’ over, and over, and over again.

You notice Wanda out of the corner of your eye, seeming a bit forlorn compared to before. 

You smirk, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better. 

“God, damn it!” Sam yells out, growling. “Damn it! Y/N!” 

“Hold on, hold on. Sam, what happened?” Tony asks. 

Sam sighs, putting his head in his hand. 

“She put my stuff in Jell-O again,” he pulls out the plate that has the stapler encased in the lemon dessert. 

And right on cue, Wanda lets out a shocked laugh, her hand going to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter. You smile. 

“That’s real professional. Thanks a lot, Y/N. Tony, do something.” 

You decide to engage in a bit more banter for Wanda. You pull out a Jell-O cup and a plastic spoon from your drawer, opening it to eat the treat. 

“How do you know it was me?” You ask as you lean back in your chair. 

“It’s always you!” Sam snaps.   

Tony sighs. “Alright, the thing about practical jokes is you need to know when to start and when to stop,” you look over at Wanda, sharing a knowing look as she smiles at you. “And Y/N, I think it’s time for you to stop putting Sam’s personal items in Jell-O.

You nod, placing the Jell-O cup down and swallowing the Jell-O that had been in your mouth. “Alright. Sam, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan,” your mouth quirks up into a smile at your pun. 

You watch Wanda out of the corner of your eye bite down on her fist to stop from laughing. 

Tony snorts. “That was a good one,” he puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know what, that’s just the way it is around here. Just deal with it, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna deal with it, Tony. It’s damage to company property.” 

“I’ll order a new one, dude. And those staplers are getting old anyways.” 

Sam sighs. “Fine, whatever.” 

Tony leaves to go back to his office.

“Hey, Sam,” you say.  

“What do you want?” 

“You should’ve put me in custardy.” 

Wanda lets out another laugh. 

“Do you like going out at the end of the week for a drink?” You ask Wanda, leaning over her receptionist desk and smiling at her. 

“Yeah,” Wanda replies, looking up at you. 

“Yeah, I mean.” you shrug. “That’s why we’re all going out. You know, so we can have an end-of-the-week drink.” 

“So when are we going out?” she asks, hopeful to have some fun after a while. 

“I don’t know, tonight, hopefully.” 

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening is heard, and you both turn your heads to see Vision walk in. Wanda’s fiance. You pull away from her desk. 

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you reply. 

“Hey, babe,” he says to Wanda. 

“Hi, Vis,” she leans over her desk to kiss him. You look away. “Do you mind if I go out for a drink with my friends from work?” she points to you and the rest of the Shield Industry staff. 

He looks over at you before responding. “Uh, no, no, let’s just go home, Wanda.” 

Wanda frowns but quickly replaces it with a neutral look. “Um, okay. Give me a few minutes though,” she points to the various papers on her desks. “I still need to do my faxes since it’s only 20 past 5.” 

You watch the way her eyebrows are still creased, and you can tell that she had been looking forward to a night out. 

Wanda walks around her desk and smiles at the two of you, heading off towards the fax machine. 

You open and close your fists nervously, turning around to face Wanda’s fiance. “You know what, you should come with us. You know, since we’re all going out, it would be a good chance to see what people are like outside of the office. Who knows, it could be fun,” you tell him. 

He shakes his head. “No, I think we’re good. We’ve gotta get going anyways.”

You nod, “Sure, no worries.” 

You and him stand there for a bit, and you can’t help but break the awkward silence, “What’s in the, um, what’s in the bag?” you point to the black trash bag he has in his right hand. 

He gives you an annoyed look before turning around, “just tell her I'll talk to her later,” he says to you and walks out the door. 

“Got it, no problem.” 

Your co-workers’ plan to go out for drinks has been canceled, and you sit at your desk trying to finish up your sales work as fast as possible. 

“Hey.” 

You swivel around in your chair to face Wanda who has her arms crossed over her baby blue button-up shirt, looking stressed.

“Hey, are you ok?” you reply. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she waves her hand. “Weren’t you going out for a drink with everyone?”

“Oh, no, the plans got canceled.” 

She frowns. “I’m sorry that’s a bummer.” 

You chuckle. “No worries, Wanda, I think I’ll be ok.” 

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry,” she looks around. “Hey, are you, uh, um-” she points towards the door. 

“Walking out?” you supply with a smile. 

She grins. “Yeah, that.” 

“Yes I am, Maximoff. Wanna go together?” 

She purses her lips and nods. 

You start packing up your stuff while Wanda waits for you, but suddenly you both hear an aggressive honk outside. 

You pause to pack up your stuff. “Oh, shoot, Vision.” 

She looks at you apologetically, “yeah, sorry, Y/N. Have a nice weekend!” she tells you before turning around and running off to meet Vision in his car. 

“You too,” you tell her, leaning back in your chair.  

You sigh as you watch the girl you’ve been in love with for 7 years go home to her stupid fiance.

part 2

[cafterdark]

"What do you mean I'm being transferred!" You shout to your manager

"My supervisor has requested that you be transferred to the branch closer to her for more... direct communication." He says. His eyes are wide, a small tremor takes over his right hand. For a former Army NCO to be that scared, she must be something.

"Have I done anything wrong?" You say.

"No, in fact you've been the best worker here. That's why she wants you."

You pinch your nose. "Is there anyway out of this?"

"I'm afraid she's made it exceptionally clear that there isn't."

"Fine. What's the address."

"I'll write it down."

--------------------------

You arrive at the office the next morning. The first leaves on the trees are turning red. It's luckily a shorter commute than your old office, but you're still pissed. You had climbed up from the pit of internships into a cozy position and office. You were the first trans, no scratch that, woman to get into management. This was bullshit.

You step in. The front desk is empty. You sit down and wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, a blonde worker passes by. The first thing you notice is that her outfit is less than professional. She wears a skirt that barely goes below her legs. Her stockings hug her tights very tight. Her blouse is basically open, showing off her admittedly very beautiful tits in a pair of lingerie. If you weren't so pissed you'd be turned on. You're glad you wore slacks today.

"Hey," You call to her. "Do you know where..." You check the slip of paper in your hand. "Miss Maverne's office is?"

The woman looks at you. Her make up is ruined, lipstick smudged, mascara spilling down her face. Her hair is messy. You could swear that you can see the outlines of hands on the sides of her face. Her pupils eclipse her blue eyes. She looks as if she barely knew where she was. After a long pause of blank stares at you, she says, "Do you mean Mistress?"

"Uh..." You're paralyzed by the absurdity of the situation. Have you stumbled onto a porn set by accident?

After a long minute of the girl thinking where you could almost hear the AOL noises playing in her head, she perks up and says, "Oh, you must be new here! I'll take you to Mistress!"

Her hand shooks out and drags you through a set of doors and into the office. You look around. You see many workers with the same blown out eyes, dazed looks, and slutty office wear around you. All women. One of them is drooling at their desk while colors flash on their computer. You wonder what the hell is going on here. You arrive at a large set of doors. "Here she is!"

A secretary sits at a desk next to the doors. She's wearing what couldn't even be charitably called an outfit. Just a few strips of cloth prevent her from being fully nude. On the exposed parts are very visible hickies.

"I brought a new recruit for Mistress!" The blonde hair girl says

The secretary pouts "But Mistress isn't accepting anyone till..."

"That's quite alright secretary, thank you." A woman's voice says. You look to your right, then up. The woman is at least 6'2", and she's wearing heels. Her towering over you is an understatement. She is wearing the only proper work outfit of slacks, a blouse, and jacket. Still, there is an aura of lust around her, like she could wear anything and still look sexy in it. Two grey eyes pierce into your soul. She grins.

"You're both very good girls, you can leave now" She says. The two girls shutter and wander off. "Now, Miss Claire Hall, would you please step into my office."

You're led in and sit down in a very comfortable chair. Miss Maverne continues to look into your very soul and says

"You're probably wondering why you're here right now."

"Yeah I am, what the fuck is this?"

"This is your new office for the foreseeable future. I picked you because you're special. It's not often a woman rises the ranks of this business."

"Thanks?"

"Good Girl."

A blush strikes your cheeks. You're really glad you wore slacks today. That compliment shouldn't have hit that hard.

"Now did your old boss give you any information about your new position?"

"N...no" you stutter out, still in minor shock from the compliment. "Just the address and your name."

"Wonderful, well, you noticed that the front desk was empty right?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll be working as the receptionist there."

"What!" The rage breaks through your flustered mind like a hammer. "May I remind you that I have years of experience in programming, administration, planning, and managing under my belt?"

"So does every other worker here. You might've been a big fish in a little pond there, but here you're puny, and you'll start where you deserve." She stands up, and you can't help but internalize her words a small bit. Still your indignation burns it.

"I'm leaving. I don't deserve this humiliation." You get up and walk to the door.

"Stop." You freeze stiff.

"Walk back." You walk back.

"Sit and stare into my eyes." You sit back down into the extremely comfortable chair and stare up into her eyes. They looked grey before but now hints of green and blue scatter in. You can't help but dive into them, trying to discover their true color. It feels like you're sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean of warm homey

"Aren't my eyes pretty?" She says.

"Yuh." The words don't move right and come out wrong.

"Don't you want to keep having the privilege to stare into my eyes?" Her voice is so beautiful.

This time the words don't even come out, you just nod.

She pulls out a contract and pen. "Then sign this."

You grab the pen but it falls out of your hand. "Oops! Let me help." She says in that musical voice. She takes the pen and places it in your hand, then pulls it to the paper. She guides it into a passable signature, then smiles.

"Good Girl." You shutter.

"Right, so first things first, your breast enhancement surgery is next week."

Sanity floats up above the honey ocean. "What?"

"And that outfit is not approved. At least the four top buttons of your blouse must be unbuttoned. Pants are not allowed, only skirts that are above the mid thigh."

"Excuse me?"

"It's all in your contract."

"I didn't sign this!"

"Is that not in fact your signature on the paper?"

You look down and see a perfect replica of your signature. Fury boils in you.

"Fuck that! I'm leaving!" You get up.

"Where are you going Miss Hall?"

"Escaping this sex cult."

"Miss Hall, this is your 90 day review."

"What do you mean, I've only been here for..." You look out the window, it's snowing. You look down at your new pair of tits. Your blouse barely holds them. A cold breeze tickle your thighs. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing." She says. "Now sit and listen." You crumble back into your chair.

"Now, both staff and guests have highly rated your performance with them in the last 90 days. You've really proven to be a capable fit for your position."

You feel heat building up in you and you don't know why.

"Good Girl." She says. Those two words hit like a truck. You almost moan. She smiles. She's smiling... about you! Excitement flutters in your chest. Wait.

"Something's wrong."

"What's wrong, Ms Cumdump?" Mistress says "Is it something you'd like to bring up for your 6 month review?"

"That name for a start, that's not my name."

Mistress sighs. "This again... Then what name would it be?"

"You know what it is it's..." You pause. Why can't you remember your name? You dig in deep but find nothing. Why can't you remember your name?

"Don't overwork that pathetic little brain of yours sweety." Mistress says. "Just check your name tag."

Oh right! It's that easy. Mistress is so smart. You look down and see your uniform. Lingerie with the required derogatory text sharpied across your body. You pull up your lanyard and read "Hypnoslut Cumdump, Receptionist and Fucktoy."

Ah, it was that easy. Wait, weren't you just in a blouse? You look up to Mistress. God she's so tall when you're on your knees. The hot late summer air sticks to your nude body. It's not amazing but receptionists aren't allowed to wear clothes and the rules are the rules. You stare into Mistress's pretty eyes and she stands and looks down at you. Mistress says

"Is there anything you want to tell me before we begin your first year performance test, Ms Cumdump?"

You try to think of what you were going to say. But your brain is soooooooooo empty that you can't remember. Probably about how beautiful she is. Yeah, that's it.

"You're sooooooooo pretty Mistress." You say.

She smiles. "Thank you, now..." She unzips her slacks and pulls out her massive cock. You're already drooling. She stands there, taunting you with it, before saying "Begin."

You take the cock into your mouth and begin worshiping it like a good fucktoy does. You hit the spot you know she's sensitive to. Mistress shutters and grabs your hair. "Good Girl." She says. You could've cum in the spot to those words if only she gave you permission. Before you could even question it, she pulls you in, and you're lost to your work.

--------------------------

Inspired by @anarqueeen :)

[princessbrunette]

reader who’s parents always say call her selfish, ungrateful, spoiled brat, etc, so when Rafe calls her that lightheartedly she gets all upset & tries to apologize ☹️☹️

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌊🌸🐬🍧 ⋆⁺₊⋆

the worst part is he doesn’t even notice your face drop after he says it, just looking away and not giving it a second thought. you wonder for the rest of the day if rafe really thinks you’re ungrateful— the word gnawing at the back of your mind from the amount of times your parents have tossed it at you hatefully.

later in the evening, you take a deep breath and enter the office, where rafe told you he’d be handling some paperwork. you’d had to build up courage, but as soon as you were in there it felt there was no turning back.

“rafe, i’m sorry to disturb you and i’ll make this quick, but i just want to apologise for earlier. i… feel really awful about it.” you furrow your brows, voice trembling just a tad as you approach his desk chair side on. you see his brows twitch in confusion, squinting at his paper before swivelling to face you, eyeing you suspiciously.

“wh— why? what’d you do?”

you blink at him as if it were obvious, shifting your weight on your feet as you play with your hands. “well— i— you called me ungrateful, so i just figured… i didn’t wanna be in trouble…”

he brings his brows down into a displeased frown, tongue running over his lips as he stares away. “nah, nah— that— that was a joke, sweetheart… really made you that upset?” he squints an eye, trying to figure you out.

you nod, evading his gaze by staring at your socks. “my parents say it to me when they get really mad. and that i’m spoiled.” you feel childish, almost like you’re snitching on them to a ‘trusted adult.’

he exhales out his nose, long and frustrated, jaw ticking before beckoning you closer until he can pull you onto his leg, running a hand across your lower back.

“you’re not ungrateful. you’re a very good girl which is rare, ‘specially round here. n’your parents are fuckin’ mouthy anyway.” he presses a rough kiss to your temple before pulling you back to look at him, his hand dwarfing your cheek. “dont wanna hear you gettin’ in your head about that stuff, alright? you’re not ungrateful, or spoiled but no one’s gonna stop me from spoiling my girl alright? i’m— i’m a cameron. s’what we do. they can take it up with me. yeah?”

“okay.” you gaze into his eyes like you’re trying to soak up every word telepathically.

“good. listen to me from now on, okay? not them.” he gives your ass a satisfied pat, and sends you running along.

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌊🌸🐬🍧 ⋆⁺₊⋆

[ashipiko]

—ATLAN TREIN

All information on Atlan Trein ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: February 12th

Height: 179cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: None

Favorite Subject: Music

Best Subject: History of Magic

Likes: Making friends

Dislikes: Being called “Mommy’s Boy”

Favorite Food: Bread

Least Favorite Food: Pumpkin

Speciality: Getting people interested in drama

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

CALLING HOME…

— Pomefiore Dorms - Atlan’s Room —

[VOICEMAIL BEGIN]

…Moooom, I know it’s kind of late, so I’m sending in a voicemail, but— You can listen to this in the morning while you get ready, right?

I know it’s only the first day of this school year but please, can you just give me permission to go home or something?!

I don’t wanna be here anymore! Just take me back home! I’m not learning anything new at this school. Sure, the drama and gossip is kind of interesting, but, ugh, it gets old really fast.

—N-Not that I’m the one spreading it around. Of course not! You could never expect that from your beloved son.

Uncle is already starting to freak me out, though. I swear whenever I looked up from my desk during history, either he or Lucius would be staring straight at me. He didn’t call you before me, right? Don’t tell me he did! I promise, I haven’t done anything—!

Ugh, not to mention, it’s just as hard to provide for myself as last year… I honestly think the lack of roommates is more of a con than anything. It makes it even harder to talk to people, tch.

…Like, I get that you want me to learn how to survive on my own, but seriously…? I don’t think being surrounded by all of these… what’s a word that’s not pleb but similar… Ah. Idiotic peers, is the right way to go about it.

Oh! I almost forgot the most important part about today. At the welcoming ceremony, there was a huge and giant fiasco. Apparently some person not from here crashed the ceremony. And no, not not from here as in Sage’s Island, I mean Twisted Wonderland! Isn’t that crazy? It would be funny if it was through time travel, hahaha!

They seemed quite out of it. Lost for words and confused. I think they even got caught on fire. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I think I even heard house warden Vil critique them!

Ah— Sorry if that was a lot. You take a long while to apply your makeup anyways, right? It’s just that I don’t really have anyone here to talk to about this, and I’m quite bad at small talk, so…

You know.

…Well then. I love you. I hope I see you soon. And consider my request—!

Goodnight.

[VOICEMAIL END]

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Atlan is twisted off of Anastasia from Cinderella!

Despite this, he isn’t Trein’s son. He’s his nephew. I figured it would be a little funnier this way.

Atlan isn’t exactly liked at NRC. To say the least, his entire personality is that he talks about other people. That’s it. Not in a praising way either— He’ll talk about whatever things he’s heard around. Hence, his ear for gossip.

His tie to Yuu would most likely stem from Yuu hearing that someone had been talking about them in a gossipy way, and therefore finding out who it was (because Yuu protection squad is a very real and scary thing). Either that or tracking him down because they think he might have information.

Atlan’s reasoning behind all his talk being rumors and topics about other people is because he’s not very good at socializing himself. He grew up a little sheltered with a bratty older sister who he’d always fight with. Lots of screaming and the such. Both of the siblings ended up being a little spoiled, and with some unbearable personalities, resulting in people not really wanting to become their friends.

The rest of his family didn’t seem to mind the fact that they weren’t as liked as others, but Atlan always sort of wanted to find out a way to reach out. To have friends and see what the normal person’s life would be. However, due to the lack of support, every time he attempted to reach for his goal, it would end up in failure. Nobody to correct his behavior, and nobody who would try to help him understand himself.

His mother, noticing this behavior of his, decided that the best course of action would to be to send him off by himself to a school filled to the brim with other people his age, who he could learn to interact with— Night Raven College.

But you would guess, something like that doesn’t go well for a boy who depended on his mother and her money for comfort.

Like a fish on land, Atlan tries his best to be open and talk to people, but upon becoming independent, he realizes that he doesn’t really have much going for him. And as people got to know him, he felt as if they were right— He’s nothing but a person who trash talks people and brags about his money.

He cracks under pressure easily when the atmosphere is awkward, and has no idea how to go about small talk. Atlan isn’t the best person to tell your secrets to, as he’ll probably end up using it as a conversation starter.

Atlan has an oresama air to him, but he really just wants to be part of the crowd rather than someone alienated for something he doesn’t know how to navigate. Maybe one day he’ll find the right crowd to surround himself with. A helping hand to guide him. But for now, he’s stuck, enrolled in NRC under his mother’s word.

More to be added!

[chronicdisasterwrites]

for you, i would

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - JJK S2 SPOILERSSS !! deaths (obvi), panic attack, funeral mentioned, smoking, just major pain. everybody's just hella depressed, swears are said, shifts between past and present (italics is past, normal is present moment), the slow burn is KILLING ME

ANGST but then it's FLUFFY :') bittersweet fluff tho (i'm sorry)

word count: 3,953

authors note: okay you asked, i hope i delivered omg :') this is the part 2 of my fic "death is pretty but his eyes are prettier". this might just be a series, because I have some ideas.

enjoyyy <3

Suguru’s gone. He’s now exiled from Jujutsu High and a certified criminal. Shoko’s putting on a nonchalant show and Satoru is lost. And you are not quite sure how to process so much information all at once. 

---

It's been a few days since your encounter with the special grade curse. A few days since you and Satoru had that moment in the hall. Days have passed since then, but your mind still seems to be stuck there, wondering why it felt so different. Since then, every time you've been near Satoru felt different. His looks looked different, his voice sounded different, his aura felt different. You felt different, and you're not sure what changed. Now you were being sent off to another assignment and Satoru was being sent off on a different assignment, and this distance could either make things a good different or a bad different. Now, what you think would be a good different is a thought you don't even want to ponder.

“Hey, you.”

Satoru moves his eyes from the window to acknowledge you. You're leaning against the classroom door with a backpack slung over your shoulder and a smile on your face. A smile that Satoru returns tenfold.

“Hey there. You start missin’ me already?”

You snort with a laugh and walk toward him. Leaning on the desk next to where he was sitting, you lightly shove his head, “Absolutely not.”

He laughs heartily and leans forward on his chair, resting his head on the palm of his hand. He's looking at you through his ever-present dark sunglasses with a dopey smile, and this is exactly what makes your stupid heart flutter, and you just don't understand why. You smile back but it doesn't stay on your face for long enough. Satoru notices of course and similarly his smile is also wiped from his face and replaced with a quizzical quirk of his brows.

“You’re worried. Question is, why?”

You shrug and bring your hand up to bite the skin around your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were a child. Something you've always done to avoid answering unwanted questions or just to avoid the storm in your mind. Satoru sighs and lightly holds your wrist to move it away from your face. He holds your hand and assesses every finger, slowly tracing the lines on your palm with his slender fingers, then your bitten nails, then the veins on your inner wrist. You blush.

“I don't know, this mission just feels different, I guess. I mean…” You look out the window and observe the blue sky with its fluffy white clouds. There's a black rogue cloud creeping up on the clear ones, and you sense a storm coming. You know Satoru and Suguru are strong and they're perfect for this job. But of course you’ll worry, and your voice does nothing to hide that, not that you could even if you tried. Not with Satoru, anyways.

“It’s just a lot for anyone, y’know?”

Satoru looks up from your hand and with soft eyes and an even softer smile he says, “Sure, but nothing we can't handle. And anyways,” His smile gets cheekier and cheeks get warmer, “I gotta come back soon, right? Can't have you bein’ all sad and mopey without me.”

You laugh and shove your hands in your pockets, turning to leave the room when Satoru calls your name.

“Be careful on your mission. I'll see you soon, yeah?”

You look back and smile, “Yeah, you too.”

—-

“So I heard you losers are tasked with babysitting the star plasma vessel? Amanai, was it?” You find Suguru smoking on the balcony near the courtyard on campus. He cranes his neck to look back at you and gives you a small smile.

Blowing out a puff of smoke, Suguru offers you his half-smoked cigarette. You accept it and bring it to your lips as you take your place next to him. 

“Yeah. Riko Amanai. I thought you had a mission outside Tokyo?” Suguru asks head tilted as he leans against the wooden railing. 

“Yeah in a bit. Wanted to catch you before I leave. I already met Satoru,” you reply as you blow out smoke through your nose and return the remaining cigarette to him. He hums and holds the cig between his index finger and thumb as he puffs it twice before stubbing it out in the ashtray half filled with cigarette butts. 

You both stare ahead at the courtyard, basking in the shared silence. You think about the responsibility on their shoulders and how heavy it must be; considering the star plasma vessel is just a few years younger than the four of you. Being raised with only one obligation; to be preserved and grow in isolation for the rest of her years. It isn’t something anyone would want. But that’s Riko Amanai’s life. 

“Stop worrying,” Suguru looks at you with an easygoing smile. 

You are always amazed at how well he could read you. So you just laugh and pat his back twice before turning to leave. 

“Just be careful, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

---

You’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling; paralyzed. Things went to shit so fast. Riko had been killed by a man called Toji Zenin or Fushiguro; at this point, you’re not sure. You’ve heard him be called both Zenin and Fushiguro. But nothing had been the same. Suguru was different. Satoru was now the strongest and being sent on more and more solo missions overseas, and back then, you felt in your bones that something was wrong. Everything was wrong anyways. Riko Amanai didn’t deserve the life she got. She didn’t deserve to die like that. And you know Satoru and Suguru. They were headstrong and stubborn; doing things their own way regardless of what anyone said. They were the strongest, after all. So you knew things were worse than they seemed because you know for a fact that if Riko chose to live, they would do whatever it took to make her wish come true. And you were right. 

---

Your mission was more or less a success. A dead curse and a few bruises here and there is the best outcome any Jujutsu sorcerer can hope for. But the air in Jujutsu High felt different. Thicker, darker, and not at all the way it was when you left it. Figuring Satoru and Suguru’s mission regarding the star plasma vessel should be complete, you head out to look for them. Heading towards the guy's dorms, it doesn’t take long before you find the hunched-over figure with jet-black hair sitting on the benches near the vending machines. 

You approach him with a soft call of his name. Suguru lifts his head to look at you as he mutters your name with a greeting. He looks awful. He looks skinnier and his hair is mostly wet as if he didn’t even bother to dry it off completely after taking a shower. Dark eyebags and half-lidded eyes make him look so much older than he is. Ironically, he looks smaller too. As if the life had been sucked right out of him.

You move forward slowly taking a seat next to him. You lean back and stretch out your legs and wait for him to say something, anything. Preferably about the mission and why he looks so fucked up. But he just asks about your mission.

You reply with a shrug, “It was fine.”

He nods his head as you wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“Suguru…what happened?”

He looks detached, lost. He purses his lips and fiddles with his thumbs. “Riko was killed.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything at all. 

“You know, she wanted to live. Satoru and I decided that we’d support any decision she’d make. She wanted to live longer with her friends, and her family. But then-“ he chokes up. Trying to mask it with a cough he just shrugs and exhales. He lets his head hang low.

“They were clapping,” he clenches his fists and you feel his cursed energy spike. 

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re in shock and you have no idea what to say. What can you possibly say to make any of this better? Apologizing seems ridiculous. Saying “she deserved better” is even stupider. Of course, he knows she deserved better. You reach out your hand to touch him before he speaks again.

“I was wrong. These people. These monkeys… they don’t deserve to be protected.”

He looks at your outreached hand and gives a half smile. He unclenches his fists to hold your hand in his larger ones. He caresses your knuckles as you say the only thing that you feel.

“You’re right. They don’t deserve to be protected.”

Suguru looks at you with eyes filled with curiosity and surprise as if he expected you to say the opposite.

You look at his hands holding yours, squeezing his hand once as you continue. 

“But then, there are also people like Riko, who do deserve to be protected, right?”

His eyes widen and his hand slacks as he stares at you. Right when he opens his mouth to say something, Haibara’s boisterous voice fills the room. He greets the both of you and you smile back as you retract your hand from Suguru’s and stand to leave. 

Suguru calls your name and you look at him. You feel so bad for him, you can’t express it. It’s tearing your heart out seeing him look so depressed, so utterly destroyed. You reach out and brush your knuckles against his cheek. He closes his eyes and releases a sigh. Leaving featherlight touches against the darkness under his eyes, you say softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. I hope you know that.”

His eyes shut and you can almost hear the torrential thoughts flooding his brain. Your voice is hushed. You want to be as gentle as possible with the way you speak to him now. He’s like a glass bottle filled with a corrosive, bubbling liquid. It must be handled with the utmost care because the only thing containing the liquid is the bottle. If the bottle breaks, the liquid will spill everywhere. Even if it’s collected from the ground and stored in a tougher container, the microscopic glass shards will be near impossible to separate from the liquid itself. Geto Suguru, is a strong man. But even the strongest material is bound to break; if a stronger force acts upon it, continuously, without giving it time to heal and repair. And once broken, Geto Suguru will always have those shards lodged inside his soul.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

He looks at you with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You drop your hand as you turn to leave him with Haibara. “I’ll see you, Suguru. Best of luck on your mission, Haibara.” 

Haibara gives you a bright smile with eyes turned into little moons. “Thank you senpai! I’ll bring back souvenirs for you all!” 

You return his smile and send him a thanks and a wave as you look at Suguru, gaze not being reciprocated. You only see his dark ebony hair covering his face as he stares at the ground, unmoving; distant.

The moment your back turns to them, the smile drops from your face and your eyes fill with tears.

---

You found out about Suguru from Yaga-sensei. Apparently, he had killed his parents and 112 non-sorcerers. Geto Suguru was now a criminal and exiled from the Jujutsu community. The Suguru you last met near the vending machines before he embarked on his new path; before Haibara’s death. 

Now you’re lying in bed, marinading in your sadness, thinking about how everything went to shit so fast. Haibara died and Suguru was as good as dead. Nanami was broken. You don't know where Satoru is but wherever he is, he's definitely not okay.

You’d heard Satoru had met Suguru from Shoko, considering she met him before Satoru did. And Shoko. Shoko shut herself off, acting as if everything was fine. She keeps conversations short and drowns herself in her studies and her work. Things will never be the same again. 

You feel conflicted. Did my words tick him off? Could I have said something better? Am I a terrible friend? Maybe if I find him now I can talk to him and be by his side, but he’s not the same Suguru I once knew. He didn’t seek me out. Why didn’t he come to meet me? Does he hate me? Does Satoru know I spoke to him before he did what he did? Does Satoru hate me? Will Shoko ever be the same again? No, of course, she won’t. None of us will ever be the same again. It’s all broken. Everything went to shit. 

There’s knocking on your door. You glance at the alarm clock on your side table. 2:30 am it blinks, in an angry red light that hurts your eyes. You sit up on your bed as you contemplate whether to open the door or ignore it. You can feel the cursed energy of the person pulsing behind the door. They knock again. You get up and open the door to see one Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe with his sunglasses on and shoulders drooped. His stance is unguarded, tired, and face sullen. 

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” he looks apologetic as he opens his sunglasses and puts them in his pocket. His once crystal blue eyes are now a muted blue with dark purple circles underneath them. 

You silently shake your head, opening the door further and walking deeper into the room hoping he’d follow. He does, as he shuts the door behind him. You sit on the foot of your bed as he drags his feet next to you and falls on his back with his long legs dangling off the edge. 

He closes his eyes and opens them, then closes them again. You look at him wondering what to say. As nothing comes to your mind you simply decide to lie down next to him and stare up at the ceiling. You both stay like that for what seems like a long time, soaking in each other’s presence as if it might be stolen from you both within moments.

“You know…I met him. We spoke and he told me I should kill him if I wanted to. I was about to but then I couldn’t do it,” his voice is so small, almost trembling. He’s breathing heavily, the silence in the room when he’s not speaking is so loud you can almost hear his heart beating.

You turn your head to see him staring up at the ceiling. He breathes your name.

“I just… couldn’t do it,” he releases a shaky breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Maybe I should have. Maybe because I didn’t kill him, a lot more people will-” he chokes.

Your heart hurts seeing him like this. The pain you were trying to control floods your senses and nothing feels real anymore. You wish it was a nightmare, that once you wake up everything would be fine. Suguru would still be here, his parents still alive, Satoru being his usual childlike self, Shoko with her hilarious little remarks, Haibara filling the room with his larger-than-life presence and laugh, Nanami emo as ever but still with you all. Riko still alive. But the more you try to force yourself to wake up you realize you’re fully awake already. This isn’t a nightmare; it’s real. This is your life.

“Of course you couldn’t, Satoru. I mean it’s Su-“ you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale. “All of this is just so-“ your voice breaks as you try to contain the tears. You take a deep breath trying to hold in your hurt. You have to be strong because right now Satoru isn’t. He needs you now more than ever.

“It’s just so unfair,” you say under your breath. 

“I’m supposed to be the strongest. I’m supposed to be the “honored one”. I mean- it was a moment of weakness. I can’t-“ he puts both his hands on his face as he breathes heavily and mutters incoherently. 

“I can’t be weak,” he spits the word as if it’s venom. Poison, tainting his pristine lips. 

“I just- I can’t.”

He mutters your name as he starts heaving and trembling. You immediately sit up and lean over him; your face over his own. 

His eyes blink rapidly as he gulps and tries to take a full breath, ultimately failing. 

You hold his face and look into his eyes. “Satoru, you’re having a panic attack. Look at me, okay? Focus on me.”

He shakes his head, and sniffles, clutching his chest as he continues spiraling. “I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

You grab his clenched hand and hold it against your chest. “Feel me breathe, okay? Look look. Inhale, and exhale. Okay? It’s just us here, alright? Forget everything else.”

Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion as Satoru’s eyes lock onto yours. Trying to match his breathing with yours, his eyes slowly regain focus as his chest stops heaving. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes deeper breaths. Soon enough, your hearts beat in the same rhythm. 

“There you go. Deep breaths,” you give him a small smile as one hand still holds his against your chest and the other holding the side of his face; thumb caressing his cheek. 

Mouth open and eyes blurry, he gulps as he brings up his free hand to touch your face. His fingers brush over the scar on your right cheek. No one else has ever touched your scar like this. Even you've never traced it with so much love and tenderness. Only Satoru has, and you realize you like that very much. You like the feeling of his fingers on your skin, especially on the part of your body that makes you feel like a complete failure. It scares you, but you can't even think about it now because his fingers are everywhere. They graze your jaw, run through your hair, and trace your nose, before finding their rightful place back over your cheek. His voice is strained and so, so small. “You’re real, right?”

A stubborn stray tear escapes your eye as you give him a watery smile. “Yeah, I’m real, Satoru. I’m real.”

He leans up to rest his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes. Your breaths mix as you feel his silver eyelashes flutter against your cheeks. His wispy bangs tickle your face and you notice his hair has gotten longer. You also notice how he has two indents on each side of the bridge of his nose where his sunglasses spend all their time. He also has the clearest skin you have ever seen anyone have. Your eyes map his face like it's the first time you're seeing him but not the first time you realize that he is so, so beautiful. And your heart almost stops at the realization that you might just be in love with Gojo Satoru.

This is the most intimate you’ve ever been with anyone. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him be and the most vulnerable you’ll ever let yourself be. Your tears don’t seem to stop now, flowing freely, falling onto his rosy cheeks and shirt. He gently wipes them away with his thumb as your foreheads stay pressed together. Hands still intertwined against your heart and thoughts flowing together. 

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here. I just- I had to see you,” his voice was low, almost a whisper.

Your voice is quiet too and you feel your face getting warm. “Always.”

You both stay like that for a couple minutes, breathing each other in, feeling each other’s heart beat. You feel so guilty for wanting to tell him you love him. You can't do that now. He's upset and lost and you won't put something like this on him right now. So you bury it and just bask in the sound of his breathing.

Once he’s calmed down, you both lie down next to each other, shoulders touching, back to staring at the ceiling. You sniffle and wipe your eyes, feeling the weight on your chest significantly lighten. After a few minutes, his raspy voice breaks the silence.

“He has a son,” He looks at you, “Toji Fushiguro. He has a son. Said his name was Megumi Fushiguro.”

His eyes shift between yours and then travels all over your face. He nibbles on his lips and continues, “Apparently, the kid’s been sold to the Zenin’s, ‘cause of the Ten Shadows Technique he inherited.”

You turn your head to look at him and you know what he's thinking.

“You’re gonna stop the sale?”

Satoru grins, “I'm gonna stop the sale,” He looks up at the ceiling and stretches his arms up. “And, anyways. He’ll be much better off here. Not to mention, his technique is the best thing to come out of his shit family, so win-win.”

“How old is he?”

Satoru shrugs, “6? 7, I guess?”

You look up at the ceiling and wonder. When Satoru speaks again, somehow reading your thoughts, you look at him.

“Will you help me?” He looks at you so longingly, and you don't even need to think about the answer. Your worries are forgotten. All you know is that you both will figure it out.

“Of course, Satoru.”

He releases a small exhale and smiles at you. You return it. You open your mouth to say something but Satoru beats you to it.

“You know, sometimes I wish I was just any regular person. Not the strongest, not a sorcerer. Just some random normie.”

You wish you could give him that. Sometimes you also have thoughts like this. What if you were just a regular person? No powers, no clue about curses, no idea about weapons or cursed techniques. A regular life, a regular family. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Satoru hums as he brushes his knuckles against yours. You let your wishful thinking get the better of you. 

“Hey. What if we run away?”

Satoru looks at you with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. You look back at him with a half smile, because you know you would. You would run away with him if he wanted to. Of course, you’d ask Shoko to join the both of you as well. But you imagine going somewhere tropical maybe. Somewhere small, a place with a beach preferably so you could watch Satoru prance around in the water and build sandcastles, only for you or Shoko to go and stomp all over it. And then you’d watch him throw a hissy fit and pout about it for the rest of his life. You’d watch the sun set over the ocean every single day without a worry in the world. Maybe you could be there till you’re old and wrinkled. Living to 80, dying in your bed wrapped in blankets and the people you love - a dream. A place where you’re nobodies. A place where Satoru could finally be free. You’d leave everything behind to have that with him. Not like you have much to leave behind anyways. But you would. 

Satoru laughs softly, almost under his breath.

“You know what?”

Your eyes are observing his every expression; you stare at his porcelain skin and sharp jaw, eyes staring up at the ceiling and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He looks at you with his glittering sapphire eyes and bitten-bloodied pink lips stretched into a real smile. You look at the small dimple on the side of his right cheek and you think, just for tonight, maybe the weight on his chest feels lighter too. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

------------------------------------------------------------

part 3

a/n: HAH YOU THOUGHT THEY'D KISS? nope, still hopelessly pining lolol. but we’ll get there, bear with me :’)

tagged: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite

[yuriisclumsy]

I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"

Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~

Love's Dance

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729

Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)

The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did. 

I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission. 

“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge. 

Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.  

All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth. 

I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.  

The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers. 

Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries. 

“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me. 

 “Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy. 

Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me. 

“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…” 

“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud. 

“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added. 

I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with. 

“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?” 

All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be. 

But alas. Good things always end. 

“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”  

Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  

I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.  

I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.  

That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world. 

To Agent White Gold, 

Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.  

A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.  

Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target. 

Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success. 

Don’t disappoint us, 

Arm 

Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they? 

 

I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out. 

Yet, I want to live. 

I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren. 

It is best I comply. 

“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”  

The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us. 

A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me. 

“Why so sad?” I asked the couple. 

“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy. 

“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.” 

I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings. 

“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?” 

“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage. 

“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them. 

I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore. 

Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead. 

I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways? 

… 

An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry. 

The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings. 

“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window. 

“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler. 

“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed. 

The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast. 

“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking. 

“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors. 

Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.” 

“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.

What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.

 

Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use. 

“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made. 

He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.” 

“Not good…” 

“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.” 

Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”  

“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound. 

Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike. 

… 

“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!” 

“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.  

I’m already in the Henituse territory! 

Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in. 

“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me. 

Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s. 

I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay. 

“That was…something.” 

The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.  

They were too lively in my opinion. 

Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing. 

“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly. 

Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms. 

“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?” 

“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.  

It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing. 

“That’s…it?”  

This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible? 

“Unfortunately, it is.” 

“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.  

“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said. 

“....” I looked down at the list.  

To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…  

“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.  

“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~” 

“I will keep that in mind.” 

Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place. 

…

 

“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him. 

“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.” 

Politics…. 

! 

“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?” 

Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.” 

“...” 

I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once? 

“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.  

“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.” 

Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me! 

“I’ll be attending in that case.” 

“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.” 

Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room. 

I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come. 

“!” 

“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy. 

“Choi Han, is there something you need?” Cale asked. 

“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained. 

Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look? 

“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.” 

“I see…thank you young master,” Han vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave. 

“Oh, and, Choi Han?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave. 

“Yes, Cale?” 

“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed. 

“...yes” he responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision. 

Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother… 

… 

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Master-List

[just-a-jock]

Get Digitized

Josh is your typical college kid maybe even a little nerdier. He majored in video game development and is a part of the gaming club at school he really didn’t take part in any social life. He was very average-looking, not too skinny but not too fat. Of course, he has some pudge around him One day while waking to his character design class he noticed a new flyer on the bulletin board

“Love video games? Want to earn cash? Come join our trail of Beta testers”

Josh loved the idea as he continued reading. It did pay pretty well and would provide all accommodations during the duration of the trial. He decides to take the pamphlet and heads to his apartment pondering if he is going to do it or not.

The next day Josh ends up driving to the address. Some big office parks with multiple buildings. “WAG” said the sign out front. He remembered seeing this developer when taking his Indie gaming class last semester. “We Are Gaming” is what the company was called and they specialized in virtual reality games and development. Josh was excited to see what project he would be helping in.

As he walked into the building he went to the front desk.

“Hello I’m here to be a part of the beta testing program,” Josh asked the receptionist

“Hello, please fill out the form on the iPad and one of our specialists will assist you momentarily”

Josh grabbed the iPad and started to fill out the questionnaire. It had all the reasonable questions you might think Until he got to the end

“What the fuck” Josh winced as the questions got more personal. Cock size, sexuality, perceived popularity. Josh decided to answer as he didn’t want to get disqualified and entered the form. Not that long after a man in what seemed like a doctor's uniform comes out from a secure door

“Hello, you must be Josh. My name is Doctor Houston. I’m the head of the VR department. Please follow me” Houston had a very stern voice with a seriousness that he did not want to mess around.

As he started to follow Dr.Houston Josh asked questions “Wow so you have a Ph.D. in gaming or computer science?”

Dr. Houston chuckled before answering “No, I have a MD in Internal medicine. WRG hired me to head the VR department as they want to see the reactions the body takes to long-term virtual reality gaming… and here we are” He finished saying as he opened a room to some sort of laboratory containing a monitor, sleek white gaming equipment and some sport of large computer. On the other side a window looking into what seemed to be a control room

As Josh walks in he hears a door close and lock

“Hey, what’s going on” he screams while banging at the door. After a moment he notices dr Houston walk into the control room across the room and sit down at a desk facing the main room.

Over the speaker “Dear Josh, I will be monitoring your experience from over here. Please strap onto the center platform near the screen so we can start”

Josh felt like this program was more of a medical drug trial and video game testing but decided to continue with what the doctor said anyway. As he walked up to the platform he put his two feet on the conveniently designated spots and looked at the screen as it turned on.

“Welcome player to your new life”

wait new life what did it mean by that. Before Josh could react clamps came out of the ground and attached to his feet holding him in place

“Hey what’s the meaning of this” he screamed

“Please stay calm as we proceed,” the doctor said over the speaker

Large laser pointers came from the side of the computer. “Beginning digitization” the computer screen announced

“Wait what?? What’s happening”

Slowly two beams from the computer started to travel up his body as everything it touched slowly disintegrated

“AHHHHH FUCK IT BURNS STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE” Josh pleated to the computer and the doctor or anyone that would notice

As the computer continued up his body in a burning pain he noticed on the screen a complete 1 to 1 replica of himself….. wait no not a replica that was him…

The computer finally made it up to his head as he pleaded one last time “PLEASE I DON'T WAN…..” He was caught off as his head was completely overwhelmed by the lights

Suddenly Josh regained consciousness but now he is in some white room with nothing around. He then hears a noise

“Customization available……. Character template chooses… JOCK…….. PROCEEDING MODIFICATIONS”

“What is happening stop this” Josh screamed but no one was around to hear him as his clothes completely vanished out of nowhere.

Slowly his body started to change to correspond to the data inside the computer

First Josh's feet grew from his regular size 9s to a huge size 14 which would be making noise anytime he walked anywhere. As the changes traveled upwards his calfs and leg muscles grew. His thighs ended up looking like watermelons and could easily break one if he wanted to between the two.

“Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk” Josh moaned as the changes continued

His cock and balls were next to change as his penis started to pull outwards slowly inching from a 6….7….8…….9……10 and finally ending at a huge size 11 which would make anyone fucked with It limp for days. His ball felt sore as they grew to baseballs filled with cum ready to fill and breed. The last touch to his groin area was the re-growth of his foreskin and ended with a continues leaky cock.

The changes moved to his torso as his abs started to chisel themselves one by one making a road all the way to the growing mountains that were his pecs. His chest looked like it was being inflated and his pecs were the Mount Everest of the range with a pointed nipple which faced downwards due to the muscle growth onto of his pecs.

“Ughh please make it stop…” Josh moaned as the changes continued

Next, his arms grew with his biceps growing to the size of footballs and his hands matching to be able to palm and grab any ball he wanted. The next set of changes started to settle in as hair started to grow across his body. His armpits started to burst out with hairs so thick that even when he put his arms down they would spew from the sizes. Next hair started to travel across his chest and legs thinking and giving him a nice rug that accentuated his already defined muscles. Lastly, but most importantly his bush started to grow more and more from his groin. Anytime of pants or underwear won’t be able to cover the spillage that will be coming over the top of them.

Josh was in a dazed state as the changes started to subside and finish up. He didn’t know how to feel…. Horny? Confused? Scared? Everything seemed so different as he started to hear the voice again.

“MODIFICATIONS COMPLETE….. STANDARD JOCK REGISTERED…… NAME: CHRIS HERNANDEZ… REGISTERED”

Wait that wasn’t his name why would it say that was someone entering all of this

“GAME WILL BEGIN MOMENTARILY… PLEASE HOLD”

Soon everything went black and it felt like Josh fell asleep.

“Oh god…. where am I” Josh woke up in what seemed to be a house much different to his one. It felt almost generated. Against his will, Josh got up from his bed and started to move to the kitchen where his body made a protein-heavy breakfast.

“Omg stop why can’t I control my body what is happening,” Josh thought in his mind completely scared of what was going on. Unbeknownst to him outside the computer his body was being fully controlled by someone on the outside.

After eating the breakfast his body immediately got up and started to walk to a new room filled with gym equipment. “Oh god no,” Josh thought.. His body started to go through an intensive workout against his will.

by the end of it he was completely exhausted with the last bits of energy he had he was able to take control for a moment and scream out

“HELP IM STUCK” . . .

“Um Doctor, there seems to be an issue,” the voice said

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The character said something weird… “Help, Im stuck” in like screaming pattern” he responded

“Ahh that’s strange don’t worry about that. We can fix that in the next patch. Might just be grabbing from some unused text files. Thank you for pointing it out” The doctor replied as he walked away taking notes and smirking

Josh was now completely trapped inside WRG new game “US” a life simulation game where gamers can be anyone their dreams can be. Unluckily for Josh, he was stuck being the complete opposite of his original self. Now is a template of a stereotypical jock for those who are too lazy to create their own characters in the game.

.

.

I hope you all enjoy. This was a story swap with @axeegliter. Check out their story and blog!

[dilf-issues]

Your Eyes Tell: 3 | T.S

Synopsis: Tommy could never accept a whore to love. But he did anyways, however his ego and pride might be the death of him.

Chapter Summary: Tommy is trying his best however, his efforts might not be noticed when an American mercenary meddles in their lives.

Warnings: None?

A/N: SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY CHRIS EVAN’s STEVE ROGERS WHOOOO. It’s my fic I can do whatever I want even if it means connecting two universes in one. Everything is non-canon. Should I change it to Thomas Shelby x Reader x Steve Rogers? Lol 🤨

PART 1 | PART 2

.

Y/N's once vibrant life had faded into a gray, monotonous existence. The colors of the world seemed muted, the laughter and joy of others an alien sound. The mere act of getting through the day had become a battle against her own mind, her thoughts constantly haunted by the memories of her lost baby. She longed for a way out, a ray of sunlight to penetrate the darkness that enveloped her soul, but the weight of grief and despair held her fast, refusing to loosen its grip.

Tommy had changed. He had changed completely, well, at least it was with her. He was still the same terrifying man in the Peaky Blinders. People had still feared him, and now they had feared approaching Y/N too.

Tommy had never put her under Peaky Blinder’a protection, he thought it wasn’t necessary. However, now, if any man or woman would as much as lay a single finger on her they would make their maker and Tommy wasn’t going to make it easy and smooth either, he would make them suffer.

These past few weeks, Tommy had tried everything to lift her spirits. He spent countless hours trying to cheer her up, showering her with words of encouragement and reassurances. He planned romantic dates and surprised her with small gestures of affection, hoping to bring back a glimpse of the woman he had fallen in love with. But no matter his efforts, the cloud of her depression remained over her, seemingly impenetrable, as if the very mention of the word ‘happiness’ was a foreign concept to her anguished heart.

Every time Tommy wanted to take her somewhere, she would refuse but Tommy never gave up he still tried. However, Polly had assured him that sooner or later she would move on but it would take some time. The once impatient man suddenly felt like he had all the time in the world

Tommy was is his office, as he always is--when he heard a a soft knock coming from his door, “Come in!” He grumbled as the door slowly opened.

“What?” Tommy questioned nonchalantly, his eyes never leaving the papers he was reading over.

“T-Tommy”

His heart had seemingly dropped at the voice that he recognized so well, for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest as he felt chills coarse through his body. It’s been a while since he heard her call his name.

“My love...” He breathed out, stopping whatever he was doing as he immediately stood up and walked towards her, leaning over his desk as he gestured for her to take a seat, “Is everything, alright? Is there anything that I can do? Anything?”

His voice had sounded so soft, hopeful, laced with a hint of happiness when he had heard her voice. Something she still wasn’t used to. Tommy sounded like this for the first few months she had met him but for some reason, his demeanor quickly changed as the years went by.

“I w-was thinking...” Her voice that were once soft, was now husky. She had spent so much time screaming and crying that her voice had changed but that didn’t make her any less beautiful in Tommy’s eyes, “I want to cook in the Garrison a-again”

His eyes softened at her request. He wanted so badly to impose, he wanted her to stay at home and continue to heal. Heal everything from her mind and her body. However, there was no danger if she wanted to continue working at the Garrison, it was filled with his men, and anything that happened to her, Tommy would end the world. Burn everything down to the ground if anybody tried to touch her.

“I’ll make the Garrison yours, love. If that’s what you want, you can do anything with it. You can bake again? Remember? You used to love to bake ur meat pies and everyone loved them” Tommy acknowledged, he remembered those days when Y/N would cook for everyone and they loved it. Tommy just wished he appreciated her meals more.

“No... I just want to do some work, make myself useful... And I’m sure Harry wouldn’t be too happy” The reason why she was keen on working in the Garrison is because she is trying to distract herself. Nobody knew about it but every night she couldn’t sleep due to the nightmares she was getting from what happened to her. She just felt so tired of having the same thing replaying in her mind over and over again, maybe if she kept herself busy, everything would be okay.

“Harry doesn't mind, I can make sure of that” Tommy protested, however, Y/N shook her head at his offer, “Well, fine then... I guess I can make some arrangements with Harry. If that makes you happy, it’ll make me happy”

Tommy had reached out, wanting to embrace her in his arms but Y/N flinched at the sudden contact, making Tommy stop in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, love... I shouldn't have done that” In his mind, he was disappointed and his heart was broken. He pushed his feelings away as he softly smiled at her.

Y/N turned around without saying anything else, leaving Tommy all alone with his thoughts.

He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, it seems like every day the only thing he could feel...

…Was regret.

.

“Uh… alright Y/N, just do whatever you want, yeah? But don’t push yourself too much” Harry mumbled, avoiding her eyes. It was unusual for Harry to treat her this way, however, his mind recalled back at what happened yesterday.

HARRY’S FLASHBACK.

“You be fucking nice to her, yeah? If not I’ll fucking kill your granny and shove her dead body in your mouth”

We could all guess who had said that to him.

END OF FLASHBACK.

Y/N simply nodded, patting down her apron as she wiped the bar clean. They were opening in a few minutes and she felt at home. Being here in the Garrison made her feel so much better and she was in her element.

Y/N shuffled through the pub, her figure blending into the shadows. The patrons, most of whom were locals, glanced up briefly, their gazes lingering for a moment before returning to their drinks. She could hear their whispers. talking about the incident and Tommy. Y/N found her place behind the bar, her usual expression replaced by a mask of friendliness. She was uncomfortable with the gaze and people talking about her but she stayed positive either way. As the day wore on and the pub filled, the patrons grew more raucous, their conversations and laughter filling the air. Y/N mechanically poured drinks and served customers, her eyes never lingering on any one person, almost as if she were simply going through the motions.

As the Y/N was swiftly wiping down the counter, an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise of the pub. Not only that, his accent was different. He was an American. She looked up to see a man she hadn’t seen before. The man who had ordered a drink was tall, with a chiseled jaw and a certain air about him that she couldn’t describe. He was certainly a looker, she wouldn’t deny that. His blond hair was styled in a neat way, framing his intense blue eyes. He sported a worn pair of jeans and a fitted T-shirt, the casual clothing contrasting with the hard look in his eyes. She glanced down on the necklace hanging on his neck, he was wearing a dog tag.

His gaze fixed on her with a strange curiosity. He ordered a drink, his voice smooth and polite. For a moment, Y/N’s apathy was disrupted, a flicker of curiosity flashing across her face as she caught his gaze before she quickly masked her expression and began pouring the drink.

“Hi, I’m Steve” Y/N, who had been lost in her own thoughts, looked up as the man introduced himself. His sudden greeting caught her off guard, her expression betraying a hint of surprise before it settled back into its usual apathetic mask. She simply nodded in acknowledgment and hummed.

“Um… Hi, nice to meet you. You’re not from around here” She cuts straight to the chase, her curiosity getting the best of her. She had never seen a foreigner before and as everyone knew she always had a childlike curiosity.

Steve chuckled, “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” She blushed, looking down as she felt slightly embarrassed by imposing on him. “Yes, I’m from Brooklyn actually”

No wonder it had sounded nice in her ears, Y/N didn’t know why but Steve’s voice sounded like the ones you hear on the news or movies. He seemed... Perfectly American.

“I’ve never met an American before” She muttered shyly, wiping down on the spot that had already been cleaned to make herself seem busy. Steve smiled softly as he tilted his head at her.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your first” She had stopped in her tracks, no longer wiping the counter as she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Steve merely grinned at her reaction, taking a sip of his drink as he watched her with an amused expression on his face.

Suddenly, Harry lightly tapped on her shoulder and leaned into her ears “Alright love, get back to work yeah? I don’t think Tommy will be too happy if he sees you talking to another man”

Y/N was shocked. She wasn’t shocked at what Harry had said, instead, she was shocked at how he had said it.

“Tommy doesn’t own me now, does he?” Y/N uttered nonchalantly, filling the next customer's order as Harry trailed behind her.

“Well, he doesn’t own you but you are sure his. Just don’t make this hard for me, alright? I don’t want him to kill me in my sleep” Harry shuddered at the thought of Tommy burying him right next to his already-dead granny.

Y/N sighed deeply as she nodded and Harry smiled widely, holding his two thumbs up. She rolled her eyes, is the verge of death what it takes for people to be kind to her?

“So, will I ever get your name?” Steve questioned, catching her attention once again.

“I can’t talk to you in here...” She muttered cautiously as Steve raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Oh... Let me guess, you have a husband? My bad, it wasn’t my intention” Y/N’s shoulders dropped disappointingly, she wouldn’t say it out loud but he did want it to be his intention.

“He’s not... My husband...” She grumbled quietly.

Steve chuckled, “Well, then... That means I can still see you around?”

She returned a soft smile at him, she knew she shouldn’t but there was something about Steve that seemed so... Pure. She had never seen anything like it. He was nice and polite, he was the exact opposite of who Tommy was.

“Sure, I’m always here,” She said softly as Steve threw him an adorable grin. She had never seen a man smiled like that before, Tommy barely smiled.

“Great… I can’t miss the chance to know your name”

.

A/N: HHEHEHE DRAMA BOUTO COME UP

[ddarker-dreams]

Sore Loser.

Yan Alhaitham x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation and unbalanced power dynamics.  Word count: 1.1k.

“In case you somehow missed it while storming in here, I want to inform you that my work hours are posted outside my office. You should note that I’m not currently on the clock and am under no obligation to hold an audience with you.” 

You knew this would be no simple task. That’s why you’ve spent days — perhaps weeks, if you’re being totally honest — mentally preparing for this confrontation. Countless hours have been spent running mental simulations of this imperative moment. Still, despite your best efforts, you never achieved a breakthrough that’d navigate you through the obstacles lying ahead. Hence why you’ve been delaying this tête-à-tête no matter how much you recognize its needs to be resolved, and soon. 

Some might call it procrastination, or delaying the inevitable, but not you. You think of it as self-preservation. What small amount you have left to cling to, anyway. Today, that thin, already fraying self-preservation was pulled taut enough to snap. 

Which leads you here. The last place you want to be, paired with the very last person you want to see. 

Your gut tells you the feeling is far from mutual. Alhaitham’s expression might be schooled, betraying nothing that floats around in that sinister mind of his, but you’re certain he’s deriving some satisfaction from your disheveled appearance. It could be the nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips or how he went to such lengths to keep his words slow, as if savoring your attention. 

“Oh, trust me, I saw your little plaque.” 

“It comes as a relief to know you’re literate.” 

The creature seated before you cannot be a human being. There’s no way. You’ve dealt with some irritating men throughout your academic tenure — sometimes you wonder if the trait is an unspoken prerequisite to being accepted in higher education — yet none come close to this. The nonplussed air, that monotonous voice that is about as passionate as one reciting instructions from a manual. Oh, how it stokes a seething rage inside you that burns red hot. 

You slam your hands on his desk hard enough to jostle the various writing instruments and memorabilia. This little outburst earns a raised eyebrow, yet nothing else. It’s clear that the floor is yours. You’ll need to make every second count. 

“I know what you’ve been doing,” you whisper. Still nothing. No guilty body language that’d give himself away, his intense eye contact doesn’t even falter. Yours almost does. “Admittedly, I don’t know the specifics. I just think it’s interesting that ever since we broke things off, I’ve been receiving the cold shoulder from the academic world. An area you hold immense sway over.” 

He straightens out a pen that went askew from your previous action. “A quick correction: you used the incorrect pronoun.” 

“... Huh?” 

“You said ‘ever since we broke things off’ when the correct phrasing would be ‘ever since I broke things off.’ That was entirely your decision. I had no part in it.” 

It takes a few seconds for his words to register. What was once a steady yet contained flame ignites into a wildfire, seeking to smolder everything nearby into ashes. You can’t believe you saw something in him once. That you granted him a special residence in your heart, the door left unlocked so he wouldn’t need a key. In the wake of his forceful eviction, you’ve boarded up the windows and chained every potential entryway shut. There’s no fully surveying the damage left behind that you’ve been forced to clean up. 

Piece by piece, shard by shard. You knew picking up the jagged glass would hurt — you never could’ve fathomed how much it’d make you bleed. 

Unfortunately, he isn’t finished. While you mentally scramble to recollect your thoughts, he swoops in, talons sharp and ready to pierce your flesh. 

“Additionally, I don’t see why we’re having this conversation if, as you said yourself, you have no evidence to back your claims. This alleged abuse of power would be better discussed with the matra. I’d be cooperative with any investigation they open. In fact, why don’t we go visit them together—” 

“Stop it,” you cut him off, and surprisingly, he listens. “Is this— is this your way of tormenting me? Getting revenge? Does destroying what I’ve spent my entire life building satisfy your ego?” 

Alhaitham places his elbows on the desk, rests his chin on steepled fingers, and leans forward. You know that look. You were once intimately familiar with it. This is the posture he adopts when he’s studying. Analyzing every variable presented to him and unearthing what remains hidden. There is no secrecy beneath his scrutinizing gaze. Where some see a stubborn wall, he views a vast ocean of information, waiting to be absorbed by those who know how to find it. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well,” he notes. His voice is quieter. Almost tender, if such a word exists in his lexicon. You’re convinced it doesn’t. “Your foundation hides the worst of the eyebags, but I’m familiar with your normal complexion. The slightest change in pigmentation is enough to give you away.” 

You hug your arms close to your chest. “Who do you think is to blame for that?” 

“You wouldn’t like my answer.” 

His hand reaches for your wrist. You tense, your breath catching in your throat, yet you allow him to unfurl your protective stance. His skin is familiar. Warm, calloused from years of dutifully scribbling onto documents. You feel his eyes boring at and through you. Cataloging your every reaction, retrieving past memories to best advance his goals. 

He’s never quite as detached as you wished he would be. 

There’s an underlying fondness when he speaks your name, gentle as a soft breeze, and almost as indiscernible. 

“You must be at your wit’s end if you’re coming to me unprepared like this,” he sighs. The spell is broken, the hypnotist’s wristwatch frozen midair. You go to jerk your hand back, only for him to tighten his grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to effectively communicate his point. 

“I’ve always been partial to you, so I suppose a little overtime wouldn’t hurt just this once. I believe I have a solution for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. We could discuss it, if you’d like. How about over dinner? It’ll be my treat.” 

You did come here searching for a solution — though this is the last one you’d ever want. 

“... How much of this did you plan?” 

“I’m unsure what you mean,” his tongue might wax deceit, but his lips offer a glimmer of truth. They curl into a content smile. “I take it that’s a yes. Our usual spot, then?” 

It’s occurs to you that you were worried about the wrong thing all along. 

There was no point in fortifying your defenses after you ejected him from your heart; he never intended to undergo a forceful re-entry. 

No, according to his design, you’d be the one undoing each lock to meet him outside. 

[devilmademewriteit]

Joel Miller & Javier Peña Headcanons (Drabbles?) Part 3!

another smutty edition<3

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [both receiving], fem penetration, masturbation) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of hair pulling; bratty!reader; violence (slapping, choking, threats); mentions of pornography; description of a panic attack; step-cest; pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, darlin, hermosa, cariño) dubcon/non-con (age gap, power dynamics, coercion, just a bunch o’ shady shit in general imsosorry)

No use of y/n.

Hello! In honour of 2K followers (woot woot!!!) here is yet another work of absolute FILTH. These just get more and more insane idk what to do w myself. Your requests r gonna send me straight to hell. Anyways, I love u all so much. Don’t forget to join the taglist, you can find the other drabbles on my masterlist, & part 3 of Salvatore coming soon!

-em<3

—

Javi loves when you take charge—God, it just makes him laugh. He watches you, faithful that you’re in control while you ride him, fingers coiling weakly around his neck. “Gonna come for me, Peña?” He lets your imagination run wild until he grows impatient, sitting up to crush you between his arms, fucking up into you at his signature brutal pace. “Where’s all that tough talk now, hermosa?” He sounds so soft, so gentle compared to the thrust of his hips—snapping to bruise against the supple skin of your thighs. You never know how he manages to last so long, only that by the time his hot seed is leaking down between your legs, you’re barely conscious, barely human, and squirming away from those fingers—that cock—stealing non-stop orgasms from your core. He’s only satisfied once you’re reduced to his personal little plaything.

“Where you goin’, baby? I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

Stepdad!Joel catching you and your boyfriend messing around in your bedroom; “Get out,” he growls, holding the door open as the young man scurries out, averting Miller’s violent gaze with his own downcast, darting eyes, hurriedly tucking himself back into his pants. Shame spreads like the wings of a Monarch across your heating cheeks. “Joel—I—” but he’s already too close, shaking his head in disappointment as he unhooks the buckle of his belt. “Didn’ think you were like that, baby…” and he’s pinning your shoulders down, covering your mouth with his calloused hand, muffling your protests to keep your little lesson private. “Pay attention, angel. F’you’re gonna act like a slut, you’re gonna get used like one, too.” Joel is huge, he stretches you far, far wider than your boyfriend ever could. When he bottoms out between your tight, silken walls, you can’t help your cry of surprise, of pain—of reluctant ecstasy. “Sshh, baby—don’t scream, don’t scream.”

“M’doin’ you a favour, see? Think you don’t fuckin’ deserve this?”

It had been ages since you’d last seen him. He’d gotten himself disciplinary leave—some shady business with an anti-Escobar group of vigilantes. But he’s back now (as your boss, no less) and so is that stupid-old-crush. And God, does he ever look good, sulking around in those navy fitted suits. Your heart had lurched when he’d recognized you—“Nice seeing a familiar face around here, ‘specially a pretty one like yours”—but working late tonight, finally on your way out the door, he commands it to a full stop when a worn-down, stressed-out Javier Peña calls you back into his office. “I-I don’t have a ride home, sir—I can’t miss the last bus,” as he dips down to brush kisses to the side of your throat, as his hands caress the valley of your waist, as he lifts you onto his desk, carelessly scattering confidential affidavits, narco-profiles, ball-point pens. “Oh, but you won’t last long, cariño—I promise,” and you believe him, because his thumb on that delicate, throbbing bud already beckons, pulls, drags you towards oblivion. Sooner or later, he would’ve had you like this—spread open on lacquered oak; thighs trembling in the cradle of his grip; fingers, helpless, tugging at his collar as his own curl inside you. You’re learning a new language: Javier’s native tongue.

“Not gonna say ‘no’ to your boss, now, are you, sweetheart?”

Slapping brat-tamer!Joel across the face after he spends hours teasing your dripping cunt; feeling him ripple with lust-soaked aggression when he finally pulls his damp cock from its drag-and-circle strokes against your clit. “Joel—fuck me, already,” and he claps the back of his hand across your cheekbone, yanks you down the mattress, settles himself to tower, cock in hand, right above your face. He wrenches your lips apart, slaps his length against your awaiting tongue—“Watch your mouth”—eyes alight with caution, irritation, warning. So, you respond, “Fuck you.” A big ol’ fist yanks you up by your hair—you know you’re being punished when he stuffs your filthy mouth oh-so-full with his length. “Yeah, fuck you too.” Every pained choke, the pressure of your hands pushing against the merciless, quick snaps of his thighs—it’s Joel Miller’s favourite kind of apology. He’s nonchalant, deceptively casual when he says it: “Nah, you don’t needa breathe—”

“—You’re gonna stop bein’ such a brat, or you’re gonna gag on an old man’s cock ‘til it fuckin’ kills y’a… whichever comes first, angel.”

On those rare nights he found himself alone, Javi liked to jack off, a glass of whiskey in his free hand. Sometimes with porn, most often without. When he did use the tapes, however, his go-to featured a dark haired man brutally fucking a girl into the dented pillows of a worn-in couch—God, she looked just like you. The real ‘you’ that was tough, incorruptible, a bit high-strung, and completely self-denying becomes a needy, cock-drunk mess at 6:12. Split wide open, taking it so rough, she whines, “You’re g’na m-make me come all—all over your c-cock.” If Javi doesn’t finish right then, he always does around the eleven minute mark, when her cheeks puff up around his fat tip, glassy eyes coming alive with that familiar, feminine devotion to male pleasure. When a forceful hand drags her lips down a long length of cock, that’s when Javi doesn’t stand a chance; he hangs off her every muffled, desperate word (and Christ, does her voice ever sound like yours): “Use me—please—use me, use me, use me.” In his twisted, sex-addled mind, he’s answering you, warm spend dripping onto thick, coiled fingers:

“I want to—fuck, wanna use every square inch of you, baby.”

The Jackson commune required all adults to take shifts patrolling the community; you’d been paired up with a far older, far more experienced, and far more… volatile partner. He rarely made conversation, but he got on with your dad, so it seemed like a good pairing, one that might teach you a thing or two—a rational decision. It wasn’t. Very quickly, you’d noticed his near tangible stares of hunger, the way his fingers clenched into white-knuckle-fists every time the weather warmed and your clothing got shorter—tighter. Soon, you’d made up your mind: you needed Joel. “Stop fuckin’ teasin’” he’d growled under the blood-orange glow of the southern sunset, grasping your flattened palm and moving it from its suggestive position on his chest, “M’not givin’ it to you.” Creeping in close, running your thumb across the sparse, silver-flecked hairs peppering his rigid jaw: “But I’ll be so good, Miller—I’ll listen, I can beg for it, too—please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“S’exactly the problem, darlin’. Jus’ one touch n’ I’d have you doin the dirtiest things for me… Fuck, wouldn’t be able to look your old man in the eye for months.”

Bonus Fluff:

Thank God they’d managed to stop the outbreak. It had felt like the end, at first, with the government-mandated lockdowns, people hoarding toilet paper and Lysol, going stir-crazy behind closed doors. And thank God for your neighbour, Joel Miller, who’d become something like your rock throughout those terrifying weeks. He’d never been close with your emotionally distant parents (really, who was?) but you were friends with his daughter, so he’d always treated you like one of his own. Until one Friday night, when you’d fallen asleep watching TV with Sarah and woken up to the thrum of your heart pounding against your ribs, beige walls closing in tight, the beginnings of a panic attack cresting throughout your shaking body. “S’okay, s’okay,” and he’d been there, cradling you in those blue-collar arms, cooing wispy, gentle comforts into the crook of your neck. The memory was mostly haze—but you kept the ghostly caresses of his finger tips smoothing the tense muscles beneath your skin, the near-kisses he’d brushed to your forehead, throat, and cheeks, and especially his look of restraint as he’d replaced your restrictive clothes with his own oversized tee. The next morning, you’d come to in his bed, nose nestled into the crumpled folds of his black t-shirt. Heat blossomed across your cheeks as the sunrise brought realization’s dawn upon you. “You jus’ wouldn’ calm down—” Joel’s concern had overwhelmed his tone as his thumb traced the apex of your cheekbone.

“Jus’ couldn’t stand to see you so… upset, sweetheart. Holdin’ you’s the only thing that seemed to do you any good.”

It took months of dating before Javi had been willing to surrender any personal information, any vulnerable thoughts to you. Christ, just learning his father’s name had felt like cracking the Da Vinci code. Instead of talking, whenever he got sad, angry, or upset, he soothed himself by stripping you down, shoving you onto all fours or holding your mouth open between his thumb and index—either one worked just as well. Somewhere down the line, you’d learnt that splitting you open left him more inclined to open up, himself. “Why is it always rough when you’re… unhappy?” It’s a timid question, posed with your cheek laid against his shoulder. First, he asks if you really want to hear the answer. Then, he responds with his eyes closed, shy strokes up and down the length of your spine. “Guess I like the control—feel so fuckin’ out of it when shit gets to me.” You go silent, startled by his honesty. “Does it bother you?” and he sounds nervous, concerned. “No,” you say passionately, ardently. “I like knowing I can help.” Smooth and quick, Javi cups your cheeks, pulling you up to straddle him and laying a fierce kiss at the altar of your swollen lips.

“You single-handedly brought me back to life, baby. Got no fuckin’ clue how much you do for me, every damn day.”

—

TAGLIST: @millllenniawrites @pining-and-tired @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @sallymilkweed @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @ayehomo

(The rest of the tags will be in a reblog—I don’t want this post to crash b/c of the amount of tags lol).

[gingerteawrites]

"I wanna be yours" - Gojo Satoru

A/N: Fellas, I have returned! Been wanting to post more often, so I'll try actually making a schedule for myself. Anyways, enjoy :)

Content: JJK sorcerer!reader, kind of canon, Gojo x reader, mostly fluff, teeny weeny angst

Gojo Satoru had always gotten everything he wanted in life. Many called him spoiled, but being a prodigy came with its perks. No one ever dared to stand in the way. And those who did never stood for long anyway.

So from the moment you were transferred to Jujutsu High and his crystal eyes laid on you, he knew he wanted you. He marveled at the way you treated your students and fellow staff members. The sweetness of your smile haunted his dreams. He had made up his mind, and nothing could get in the way.

Except you. You got in the way.

"Hey, sweetheart? Wanna grab desserts after classes are done today?" He asks, leaning against your desk as you finish grading your students' tests.

"Sorry Gojo," you look up from your paperwork, adjusting your frames on your nose. "I've got to finish up some lesson plans."

He sulked openly, lips pursed as he lifted his blindfold. Frustration gnawed at his insides. He'd been trying to go out with you one-on-one for months now. But you always found a way to turn him down.

"Can't spare me a little time?" He drew closer. You could feel the cursed energy radiate off of him. Even when he wasn't trying, the Strongest's aura was something that could not be ignored.

"Next time, okay?" Your eyes returned to your papers, and he sighed in defeat.

There was never a "next time".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Kyoto sister-school exchange event had just concluded. Cursed energy flowed through you while you worked on healing the injured students. "Thank you ___-san." Itadori beamed at you, the worn out skin around his knuckles slowly repairing.

"You're welcome Yuuji-kun." You returned the smile, standing up to move towards Shoko who had just finished patching up Maki.

The students, fully healed started to part ways. You made sure everyone was set and after a small debrief with Yaga on the special grades' attacks, you walked outside the main building.

"Is Gojo still meeting with the higher-ups? I can't believe they managed to attack us here." You mused, sitting on one of the benches outside the classrooms with Shoko.

She took a long draw from her cigarette and lazily turned towards you.

"I promise you he would appear right this second if he could." Her smoky voice danced in the afternoon breeze. "Couldn't resist you being here." She spoke as if it was fact.

You shook your head to yourself, looking down at your lap with a chuckle. "Pfft, he's just flirty Ieiri. I don't think too much of it." The idea of having Satoru's attention was not unpleasant. His presence always made your heart beat a little faster, after all. But you would never give yourself false hopes. He could have anyone he wanted, and the prospect was more than enough to make you want to keep your distance.

Shoko just shook her head, the cloud of smoke hanging around her parting when she stood. "If thinking that is what helps you sleep at night," she waved with a turn "I'll see you."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Too many things had happened. Getting attacked by multiple special grades, half of the school destroyed, the kids hurt. The balance of the Jujutsu society felt like a wreck and you knew that October 31st spelt even more trouble.

You sat in one of your empty classrooms, head on the desk with your eyes fixed outside the window. You had to prepare for Shibuya. A deep sense of anxiety gnawed at your insides, causing you to close your eyes in hope of some respite.

However, the sound of doors sliding open prompted them open, turning your head to identify the intruder. There stood Gojo with his blindfold off, a rare occurrence.

"Hello, sweetheart." He approached your desk, pulling a chair to sit beside you.

"Hi, Gojo." You replied, tired voice barely carrying through the room. His azure eyes traced your features.

His hand slowly coming up to brush against your cheek. And you didn't pull away. The soothing touch was oh so welcome. It drew you out of the anxious hole your mind was digging.

"Before we go out there." He paused, voice uncharacteristically soft. Smooth. Not putting on a show, but deeply honest. "Before the fighting starts... I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?" You couldn't help but lean into his touch. He chuckled, almost humorlessly.

"I've been trying. In not so subtle ways." He spoke quietly. "I just want to hear you say it. That you truly don't want me."

Your eyes widened, body stilling. The wind blew in through the window, the chill of the outside filling the room.

"Satoru... I..." Your mouth gaped, in a desperate search for words.

"I wanna be yours." He assured, thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Even if it's the last thing I do." He took in a deep breath, drawing closer so that there were only a few inches left between you. "Will you let me?"

Your thoughts melded together into a hazy mush, breath taken away by his words. By his closeness. You weren't sure you could formulate the correct words. To express how much you wanted it too. How much you wanted to be his. How much you reveled in his closeness, despite the parts of your mind that screamed that it was hopeless. That he was too good for you. That this could end too soon for either of you.

So you pushed all thoughts away and acted on instinct. You closed the gap, plush lips meeting his in a tender embrace. Your hand rested along his jaw, pulling him closer and he responded to your invitation, gently slipping a hand around your neck. Your lips moved in a soft tango, rhythm dictated by your frantic hearts. Kissing until your lips were tinted red with passion.

You finally parted and rested your foreheads against each other, and Gojo let out a chuckle, a quiet thing, teeming with joy.

"That was the first time you've called me Satoru."

You smiled. "I want to be yours too, Satoru," he pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, his lips pulled into a wide smile.

The future had never seemed more uncertain, and the balance of the jujutsu world barely hung on by a thread. But in that moment all Gojo could feel was unbridled joy.

"Thank you, my love."

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[kuni-is-daddy]

Thinking about Scara making us rub his cock with our pussy until we both cum

DOM! BOSS SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE BODYGUARD READER.

100 followers special AHH OMFG TY.

PURE FILTH.

Juicy stuff: Grinding,Recording, at a desk :<, Yandere themes

Featuring: CHILDE, he's your bestie in the start :) had so much fun writing Childe in this KKLMK I LOVE HIM❤️❤️😩

1.2K WORDS.

amazing art credits! Scara masterlist Part 1 of Boss scara.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Stillness, Silence. The complete opposite of thunder. And that was his mother, The raiden shogun. God of thunder. Rumors spread around the elaborate 'Gakaden' company that once again her excellency has cancelled another meeting with her son. Its been 200 years since he's last seen her, heard her voice. Scaramouche was only able to rejoice in the sweet sent she left from each letter that was sent in her fluid handwriting.

"Y/n Y/n!" Childe said while tapping your shoulder. "Ah! Childe!! you scared me. Dont sneak up on me like that!" you nudged his shoulder in return. "Hah hah. sorry comrade~ anyway. Did you hear about scara?" you closed the book, bookmarking where you left off. "Yeah our Excellency is quite the busy woman. At least now i can catch up on my book" you smiled. "Why'd you ask? Is everything okay?" You gave a concerned look and the ginger then laughed at you. "Well the thing is.....IM GOING BACK HOME!!!" he took out a picture of teucer and the rest of his siblings. They we're wearing christmas sweaters while holding a 'welcome home' sign. "oh shit really!? your going back to snezhnaya? Thats great childe! how long are you going to be gone?" "hmm probably a month or two. Scara said we needed a break." Childe said "We? what do you mean by we?" You looked at him suprised. "Soo...You dont know gurly?" You gave a straight face. "No- I dont know GUrLy" "Scara is giving us a month off from work. He said something about wanting time to himself and-- I dont know the rest. To be honest, all i know is that we come back next month on the 30th." You scanned the room to see your fellow co-workers organizing their desks and holding boxes in their hands. "Seriously!? Thats great! That means i can go back home and-" Suddenly. The intercom rang with a short beep.

"If Y/N L/N Is still present in the building, Please report to Lord Scaramouche's Office Immediately!"

You tilted your head at the request. "Oooo did you get in trouble y/n??" "No? Or at least.. I hope not." You got up and placed your book back on your desk. Sighing at the sudden realization you we're gonna be by yourself without your 'best friend' for another month. "hey hey.. Cheer up okay? Its only a month and besides. WE CAN ALWAYS TEXT!!" childe waved his phone in your face, your sad expression then turning into a happy one. "HEY THERE GURLY-" "YOU LOOK WELL" "CARE TO EXCHANGE.." "NOTES?" The both of you giggled and then hugged eachother one final time. "Im gonna miss you so much ajax~" "of course, The one time you say my name its when im leaving-."

The intercom rang again. "Y/N... L/N.... REPORT TO LORD SCARAMOUCHE'S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY." now with a more nervous tone then ever. "God. Wonder whats going on over there they need me so bad." "Well..Ill be seeing you Comrade. Take care for me okay?" He gave you a kiss on the forehead, ending it off with you two doing your signature handshake as he walked out of the company.

While climbing the many floors you eventually made it to the 13th floor. Your master's office. You slowed down your stroll in the long cold dark hallway at the sound of pleads and yells. "P-PLEASE LORD SCARAMOUCHE.. I DONT KNOW WHERE SHE IS. I ASKED THROUGH THE WHOLE BUILDING TWICE, HAVE MERCY-" It sounded like the woman on the intercom. "Twice? I said bring her to my fucking office. Not call her, Not ASK around for her. Bring her. But you cant even do your goddam job." you put your hand against the doorknob, conflicting weather you should intervene or not. "Your nothing. Do you know that? Nobody special. I dont care about your family, Your kids, Or your life. Under me, Your just someone i hired for my mothers sake. Just a worker. Replaceable like the rest of the humans in here." You turned the doorknob, hoping to intervene in what sounded like the potential murder of your co-worker. She was being held by her throat, hovering over the balcony while scara held his signature katana in his other hand. "KUNI- STOP!" he turned his head immediately at the use of that name. The woman fell, gasping for air while recklessly running for her life out of the building.

"Hm. So you are here, Close the door." he dropped his blade in its stand and walked towards you. You closed the door, making sure it was locked and immediately turned your head. "Kuni? What the hell was that? Why did you try to KILL that woman??" He rubbed his hand along your shoulder. "Does it realllyyy matter baby? I can just hire a new one you know." he scoffed. "Kuni. Humans arent replaceable. You cant just KILL someone like that." "Mhm..Your right. Cant replace you and that sexy body of yours~" He grew closer to you, Placing your hand against his tie. "W-well..You wont have to worry about me. Or Ajax leaving..Anyway..Why did you call me in here- Master." He pulled away at your change in tone. If theirs one thing that drove kuni crazy about you, is how persistent you we're with work. Still managing to stay perfessional. He sat back behind his desk, Clicking his pen with a laid back expression. "Not in a good mood today pet, Was hoping you could change that f' me~" The balcony door was still open a bit behind him, the warm summer air breezed through the room. Making you tug at your own suit with how hot it started to feel, How intimidating he looked from across the room as you stood at the door. "O-okay..Where do you want me to go master? Do you want to go out to eat? I just have to get my case and-" he sighed and began unzipping his pants.

"Come here and ill show you~" You we're nervous at how intimate he sounded but reluctantly walked towards him. He looked you up and down, noticing how similar your outfit was to his. How your hips curved around the belt. "Want you to sit..Right here..." He rubbed his hands against his thighs, Motioning for you to sit. "B-but we shouldnt do it here- theirs people still working kuni-" He sucked his teeth at your remark. "You think i fucking care Pet? dont want to make master more mad do you?" "N..no..I dont." You closed the blinds to the balcony, remembering how you almost witnessed another womans murder infront of your eyes.. over you. You faced scara and blushed. Turning your head away while stripping each piece of clothing off of you until you wore nothing but lacey black lingerie. "God..You look so hot in those.." he groaned as you hovered over his cock. positioning your pussy right against it, "Grind on daddys cock. Fuck yes~" He threw his head back as your hands held onto the chair for stability.

"A-am i doing good for you master...?" he pressed his hands against your ass, slapping them as they made contact "AH~" "Hell yeah.. Your doing so good' want you wet for me." He shifted his hands towards your underwear, slowly making them shift down so he could see your clit. "K-kuni! what are you doing.." "Ugh~ turn your head back up- Wanna feel your clit rubbing against me" He pulled your underwear down, Repositioning you so your clit rubbed against his big length, Teasing you as your hole ached for him to be inside of you. "Master~ Your so big..hah..." "Yeah you like that pet? Like how good it feels against you?" Wet stains started to emerge on his pants as you grinded faster against him, Chasing the burning feeling he gave you. "K-kuni~ Feels so' good~ Please..fuck me.." you shifted your grip away from the chair, now tightly holding onto him instead. "Mmm dont think thats good enough love, Beg for it." Begging. Kuni always made you beg and scream for him, He loved hearing how desperate you we're for him to fill you up. To claim you as his. Watching as you cried in frustration when he'd pull out just when your about to cum. "K-KUNI~ PLEASE M' SO CLOSE" "Shit~ keep moaning like that, cum for daddy, cum for me. and ill fuck you. Fuck~ hah...bounce those tits for me. You look so fucking good~" he slowly pulled his phone out, Recording how your tongue stuck out for him and your tits bounced. How you looked like a dog in heat. "Fuck..Thats it y/n Dont stop, dont fucking stop." "AH~ K-KUNI M' GONNA CUM~ KUNI!!!!!!!!"

Your juices squirted all over kuni's pants as he came at the same time as you. You looked up to notice him recording you and covered your face in embarassment. "Mmm... is my little slut embarassed? god look at the fucking mess you made." He let his phone fall down on the floor. Roughly grabbing you and placing you against the desk. "K-Kuni! Dont be so- MMM~" he tied his tie around your mouth. Throwing his clothes onto the floor and picking up his phone once again. "Shit...Cant get enough of you y/n~ love how this pussy is all mine~ are you mine pet?" you nodded your head with no hesitation.

"Fuck yes. Im gonna break you."

[mandu-17]

Need a little something | Jeon Soyeon x fem! reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: 1) Can I request a g!p top yuqi or soyeon fic? Any scenario you want ofc

2) Are your request still open? No pressure if they aren't but if they are can you make a soyeon smut fanfic?

Warnings: G!P Soyeon, blowjob, cursing

Genre: Smut, Soft Dom!Soyeon

Wordcount: ~ 2,926

A/N: i think i love this one

“Unnie, you’re scaring me.”

With a frown Shuhua watched as her leader, Jeon Soyeon had a full blown breakdown. She’d never seen the other member like that, even when their own company was being ridiculous or awful to them it was always Soyeon who kept their spirits up.

And now, in her little studio Soyeon had her face hidden in her hands, as she was sitting behind the desk. Maknae bit her lip, while analyzing the music program that was turned on on Soyeon’s computer. As expected, she was already working on (G)I-DLE’s new album even though they had barely finished previous promotions.

“It’s just not it.”

Shuhua sighed after hearing the exact same sentence for another time. A little part of her was relieved that the leader wasn’t mad at any of her struggles in the studio booth this time, yet still she hated the fact that Soyeon had to suffer so much for being a perfectionist.

“Something’s missing. I was sure I had it all planned out in my head but something’s still not clicking in here.” Soyeon pointed to the screen.

Shuhua sneakily pulled her phone out of the pocket and messaged for the other members to help with comforting Soyeon. A brainstorm is always a good idea.

“Maybe we should add a different harmony!”

“No.”

“Write some more rap?”

“No.”

“Let’s have Yuqi have all the lines?”

„Never!” Soyeon giggled, while turning in her office chair. Her eyes met Shuhua’s briefly, as she began swinging from side to side. It was a small success.

“JEON SOYEON!”

A loud voice caused both of them to turn their heads to see Yuqi entering the room with Miyeon and Minnie walking closely behind. Chinese tried to hug leader’s head, but she was only met with a playful slap. Meanwhile Puppy Sisters sat down next to Shuhua on the couch.

“A little bird told us you’re being dramatic.”

“Yah, Yuqi! Have some manners.” Miyeon scolded the main dancer, she felt sorry for Soyeon. She was aware how incredibly important music and creating was to the middle member.

“It’s just not it. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ve been working on it for the past three days, but I just can’t come up with that special little something.”

Soyeon explained with her hands dropping hopelessly.

“Let us hear it though.” Minnie chimed in, a bag of hazelnuts already in her fingers as Shuhua tried to steal some of it. “We’ll see together.”

After seeing encouraging nods from the rest of the group, Soyeon turned to the computer again and pressed space bar. Then she watched the girls for their reactions.

“It’s so cool, unnie.” Yuqi started dancing almost immediately, she even had few ideas for the choreography.

“Ooh I love this part!” Miyeon pointed out while Minnie and Shuhua were also just happily vibing to the song and lip syncing most of it.

Soyeon paused it suddenly.

“I’m not saying it’s bad! It’s just not what I want. I still have to work on it.”

Four groans were heard.

“I think it’s going to be a hit.” Yuqi’s wide eyes turned to Soyeon felt almost like an attack with how intense she was looking at her. “I’m serious!”

Leader only shook her head slightly.

“No, if Y/N was here to say it, Soyeon unnie would agree.” Shuhua chuckled causing the fuss all over the room.

With that loud laugh of hers Miyeon nodded at her words immediately, Yuqi whined feeling unappreciated and Minnie was just dying out of laughter on the couch - her fondness for maknae raising automatically. In the middle of it all, Soyeon was trying to protest and disagree, but no one was listening anyways. That’s when Miyeon thought of an idea.

“What if she came over?”

“Should we call her?” Shuhua quickly joined in, she liked you a lot.

“Guys, it’s not her problem though.” The leader wasn’t against your company - heck, she’d do anything to have her beautiful girlfriend around more but she just didn’t feel comfortable with having you there while she was working. It was her work after all, she’d hate to bother you.

“Let Y/N save the day. Call her, Soyeonie.” Minnie smiled softly at Soyeon. Thai had known her leader for so long and it really seemed like only you could make a difference.

Short girl rolled her eyes playfully but obeyed nonetheless and dialed your number in no time. Everyone present leaned in and with big eyes they were all expecting to hear your voice soon.

“Baby?” You answered sweetly.

Soyeon’s eyes widened, she could feel a hot, deep blush spreading on her face.

For the second time, the room filled with laughter. It was a pure chaos.

“Hey, Y/N. You’re on speaker and the members are here too.” Soyeon quickly said, her left hand covering half of her face, as she still felt embarrassed.

“Oh...” It was clear you also felt uneasy about the situation although moment later you just laughed it off and used your sweet tone again. “Hi everyone.”

The members took turns saying ‘hi’ to you, then Shuhua took the initiative, “Unnie, are you busy now?”

“Not really, why?”

They all looked at Soyeon as if they wanted to prove that you were literally one call away when she needed you.

“You should come over! Soyeon-ah is a mess without you.” Yuqi laughed causing Miyeon to slap her arm.

“Yah, Yuqi stop with that.” Soyeon whined, her foot weakly kicking up not even touching Chinese’s leg.

“No, but seriously can you come over? Soyeon is stressing over this new song, but she’s not listening to us. If you don’t have anything better to do then I’m sure we could all use your company.” Minnie suggested, Shuhua nodded at her words as if you could see it.

“Sure, I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I just have to hang the laundry.”

“Omo, perfect!” You felt something warm feeling your tummy after listening to all of their happy reactions. You sometimes couldn’t believe they liked you so much.

“Okay, we’ll be waiting in my studio. Fourth floor.” Soyeon finally spoke up, gentle smile grazing her face. Even her sudden producing block couldn’t stop her from smiling at you.

“Okie, see you soon!”

Once the call ended all (G)-IDLE’s members exchanged looks before bursting out laughing. Soyeon’s poor couch kept on getting hit by the girls.

~

“So where’s my patient?”

Was the first thing you said after opening the door.

All the girls cheered up loudly even though you’d barely entered. Soyeon’s sharp eyes found yours right away, she felt her heart skip a beat. Your smile lit up the whole room.

“Hi, how are you all?” You asked the members kindly.

“Good and you?”

“Great, thank you.”

“Listen, unnie if you won’t do anything about her I’m gonna-” Shuhua stopped midway in order to dramatically pull at her hair.

“Jump out the window.” Yuqi finished for maknae perfectly though.

You tilted your head curiously and finally stepped towards Soyeon, who was still sitting on the office chair. Frankly speaking, it seemed to her that she was trapped there. Allowed to leave the studio only once this certain song is finished.

“What’s wrong Soyeon-ah?” With your hands resting on chair backrest, you leaned in to the screen watching the music program fascinated. Even though you weren’t exactly sure what you were looking at you felt glad to just be there. You’d admired Jeon Soyeon since you could remember. Her ideas, visions and these genius observations of the world around her. Even before the two of you met and started dating she never failed to amaze you. You used to watch her on tv and now the fact that you could be introduced to some people as her girlfriend made your chest fill with pride every single time.

“Just listen to this part.” Defeated, Soyeon played the song.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek real hard in order to focus on your genuine reaction and not that sweet, familiar smell of you that hit her so closely. Few strands of your hair tickled the skin of her shoulder that was not covered by the black tank top she was wearing. Whenever your body this was near she felt both at ease and very excited.

“Woah! It’s so cool, I love it.” Soyeon looked up unconvinced, her eyebrows raised at you. She could almost feel your breaths fanning her face. “I can’t see the problem in here. I really can’t, baby.”

“See?! It’s a good song.” Minnie exclaimed, slowly getting tired of the situation. And especially since you arrived, she figured the four of them won’t be needed anymore.

“It’s empty. It’s missing something. I don’t know what it is yet but it just needs a little something to it.” Soyeon stayed stubborn.

“Ah I see... Issues of a perfectionist.” You teased your girlfriend, but only for a short second. You were far too scared of her small figure and what she was capable of.

Your comment made the members giggle and agree with you completely meanwhile Soyeon glared at you.

“How about you turn it off?” You suggested with a small shrug.

“What?” Leader frowned.

“What?” The rest of the group was also surprised about your idea.

“Right now you’re just suffering. In fact, everyone present in this room can feel your struggle and because you’re too focused on it now you can’t find the solution. So my advice would be to turn off this computer and just... try to relax for a bit. Then the idea will come to you naturally.”

The second you had said the word ‘relax’ in front of Soyeon in her work mode fully on, you wished to face palm yourself. The look on her face was priceless, as if you were an alien.

“Wait, what if it actually works?” Miyeon looked at others’ faces.

“It does make sense. I think we could give it a try.” Shuhua agreed with Miyeon, which was not an often moment.

“Soyeon-ah?” Yuqi searched for the leader’s opinion on it all.

“Turn it off and then what? How am I supposed to relax when I can’t even think straight.” She tried to brush the idea off, but luckily you could be stubborn as well.

“So you’re agreeing that it actually drives you insane? Then let’s just take a small break, Soyeon. Do you know what a break is?”

Shuhua’s mouth fell open when she heard your question. Most of the times, you were a very kind person, but once you got sarcastic it was incredibly entertaining to watch. Especially your ‘arguments’ with Soyeon were fun to watch, as they made the two of you sound like an old married couple.

“It is making me frustrated, but I have to finish it. There’s no way I’m taking a break now.”

“But that is the only way to finish it! You have to let your brain rest for at least a couple of minutes to have a fresh look on this. Then the missing part will come.” The members’ heads were turning from her to you like they were watching a tennis match. The ball was now on Soyeon’s side.

„No! I have to finish it first.”

“You need a break!” Minnie’s head fell on the couch backrest, she closed her eyes before mentally counting to three.

This didn’t go exactly as planned. Minnie simply thought that after arriving you’d tell Soyeon how great the song was and that Soyeon would drop the topic immediately. Everyone around their leader could see how important your opinions were to her. And how much she liked being complimented by you. Her lips used to create that coy yet satisfied smirk whenever you were gasping amazed.

None of the girls expected you and Soyeon to fight although they all knew that neither of you would ever hurt the other person. It was safe to leave you two alone. At least convincing Soyeon wasn’t their problem anymore.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Ye-”

“I’m leaving.” Thai stood up and with no look back left the studio.

Maknae was fast to follow her. Miyeon and Yuqi exchanged looks, the two of you hadn’t even noticed that someone was leaving, it seemed. The oldest shrugged and also left the room while pulling Yuqi with her by the shirt. Only once the door closed behind them you looked up to see no one there anymore.

“Oh.” You frowned cutely.

Soyeon shook her head with an amused smile before putting it in her hands as she did with Shuhua being the only one present before.

“What?” You asked when you heard a sudden fit of giggles leave Soyeon.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/N.” She rubbed her eyes and did something that shook you to the core.

She turned off the music program.

You were about to ask whether Soyeon was feeling okay when she was the one to speak first.

“Come here.” She opened her arms gesticulating for you to take a sit on her lap.

“Was it so damn hard?” With a bit of her help you made yourself comfortable. You hugged her by the neck making your heads bump together. Not too hard but just so that both of you could feel the other person’s presence. To Soyeon, it was a heartwarming gesture.

She shushed you, one of her hands caressing your hair slowly.

After all day in front of the computer, she had to redirect her senses. She wanted you to fill her space, to be the center of it. She’d make you the center of universe if she could.

“Baby?” You murmured enjoying the way her body was warming you up. She hummed in response, her eyelids falling close for a short, blissful moment. “I think I know what you need. I think I know the perfect way to make you relax.”

“You think so, Y/N?” Now she was wide awake, “I think you have to show me.”

Her hands gripped your hips in order to make you face her properly. You bit your lip at the way her nails dug into your skin through the material of your shirt. Hazy look in Soyeon’s eyes had you already anticipating her next moves, words.

“Will you be a good girl and show me? Will you help me relax?” She whispered straight into your mouth, as if she was putting a spell on you. Hypnotizing you with her seductive voice.

You could give a bare nod before her lips crashed onto yours making your mind delete every single thing that existed besides the two of you in that room. In her little studio. You’d never done it in public, how thrilling.

“Close the door first.” As fast as possible you got up and did as you were told. She turned the chair in your direction letting you see her back confidently leaned against it with her elbows lazily resting on the armrest. “Now get on your knees.”

You gulped and your eyes even widened due to excitement, Soyeon smirked amused by how easy you were to turn on. You were so fun to play with. Her words were your command. She loved watching your hungry eyes following every single move of her fingers while they worked on the belt.

“Now I want you to make me forget all about that damn song.” Soyeon rasped once she let her member stand freely in front of your face.

“Say no more, baby.” You met her eyes for a brief second, wanting her to know that you’d never disappoint. There was no way you’d loose an opportunity to please her.

Gentle, yet firm your hold was on her at first. You took your time moving your hand up and down her shaft meeting her wet with precum, tip. You bit your lip at the sight and let your thumb smear it. Your actions earned a breathy moan from your girlfriend.

When you looked up you saw Soyeon’s head had fully fallen on the chair.

“Don’t stop, my good girl.” Her lips created a lazy smile after she felt your mouth wrap around her length.

You grabbed the base of her cock meanwhile your warm tongue took care of its’ upper part. Over time with Soyeon, you learned how to give incredible blowjobs. You knew how to use your mouth and knew exactly what tipped your girlfriend over the edge.

“My god, Y/N. You’re so good at it.” Groans kept spilling from her, as your tongue moved the right way, sucking her deliciously.

Soyeon’s fingers pulled on your hair, she didn’t even need to guide you, just needed something to keep herself grounded. Her hips bucked without her really acknowledging it.

You hummed against her cock, almost smiling at Soyeon’s responses to you. Only you could see her like that, taste her here and there. The vibrations you made had your girlfriend panting heavily, her orgasm was approaching. It was approaching fast.

“Fuck, baby.” Her shaft was throbbing in your mouth and your hand was playing with her balls - it was over for Jeon Soyeon. She was addicted to your touch, even her words came out stuttered. “I-I’m cumming.”

Eagerly, you swallowed everything she gave you, slightly slurping. Soyeon moaned your name, trying her best not to be loud at the same time. After you pulled away in order to wipe your mouth, she looked at you with a satisfied smile, eyes full of stars.

“You should visit me here more often.”

[miniwheat77]

Give ‘em hell. Pt.2(Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Angst, Smut, pregnant reader, birth, unprotected sex, so sweet you’ll cry.

Part 1

I put as much thought into this as I possibly could. I hope enjoy.

Someone did ask about part 2, here’s that :)

Once you and John had gotten dressed, you knew it would be a fight to get out of there and to the exfil point. Captain Price called for help in the early hours of the morning, and they came as soon as they could. He let you sleep in as much as he could, knowing that your body would be more exhausted than his.

After the short conversation you had shared together, you’d fallen back asleep. He watched as you slept, so peacefully despite the shitty situation you’d been in. He was worried. The both of you would potentially have a child together, this would take away from your jobs, from your lives. It would ruin your chances of meeting someone your age and living a peaceful life with them. You wouldn’t want to be with someone like him, you had a large age gap. You had so much potential. He didn’t want you to feel like you would waste your time with someone like him. He was quiet as the both of you hiked to the exfil point. You were exhausted and sore. You had a million things going through your head, just as he did. You were stressed, nervous. Everything. When you reached the exfil helicopter, you sighed in relief. These last 24 hours have been eventful. Everything that had happened, should have happened in some kind of sci-fi/romance book or movie. It didn’t seem like something that could happen. Especially not to you.

When you returned to base, the both of you were berated with questions. What happened? Are you injured? Why was there a building lit on fire? Why were you both silent on the radios? Captain Price had to come up with something. Telling them some story about being held hostage.

When everyone finally laid off, he took you with him to see Laswell. She would know what to do. She asked a lot of questions. Luckily Captain Price had the paperwork, it gave her more insight, within the span of an hour or so, she’d been in contact with an agent from the CDC, someone who specializes in drugs like this. They knew what to do. “John, can I speak to Y/N in private?” He looks at you, seeing the nervousness in your eyes. Tears gathering at the waterline. You were nervous. He was too. He nods his head, standing up. He waits just outside the door, but unfortunately can’t hear anything. “Since you and Captain Price destroyed all of the evidence, there’s nothing else for us to collect to see what the lasting effects of this could be. You’ve both submitted blood, and hopefully that will give us enough. But in the chance it’s not… there’s only one more option.” She sighs.

“Yeah? And that is?” You ask.

“The fetus.”

“I’m sorry?”

Laswell bites her lip. “You’re pregnant Y/N. That’s why you’re cured. There’s a fetus in your body, and the drugs are still it in.” Your mouth goes dry, eyes starting to water. “You wanted to abort this child anyways, right?” She asks. “What? No.” Your body is starting to shiver in panic. You don’t want this. “Y/N. You can’t have this baby. You have no idea what you’ll be getting yourself into. John doesn’t want this baby, it was merely by chance that this happened to the both of you.” You shove your chair back away from her desk, the feet making an awful screeching sound along the floor. You slam it forward, tears starting down your face. Upon hearing the commotion, John opens the door. Just in time for you to stare daggers at Laswell. “Fuck you.” You growl. You storm past John, rushing down the hallway, wiping your eyes. “What the hell did you say to her?” He asks. “The truth.”

“And that is?”

“The CDC needs that fetus for testing John. She’s delusional, thinking she could have some ulterior life with this.” Laswell knows she’s made a mistake when John starts to grit his teeth. “That child, is none of your concern. It’s not anybody’s property, it won’t be used for testing, and she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do. If you want to find out what that stuff is so badly, go sort through the burnt rubble of the building it came out of.” He seethes. His words are laced with venom, and Laswell can’t believe he’d have taken your side. He rushes out of her office to find you, and when he finally does, you’re upset. He sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “It’s okay.”

“Do you want me to do it?” You look up at him.

Your face shatters his heart right in his chest. Teary, puffy eyes. Your nose and cheeks have turned red from you crying. “Of course not.” He sighs. You swallow down another sob. “Y/N.” He sighs. He grasps your hand in his. “I want you to do whatever your heart tells you to do. Not what you think is right.” He squeezes your hand. “If you want to keep this child, than you do it. You don’t let them persuade you or pull you in any direction you don’t trust.” He breathes. “What do you want me to do?” You sniffle. “I want you to do what you want to do, but if you’re asking my opinion, or what I would do.” He bites his lip slightly. “I hope you’ll keep it. I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to be the dad I never got to be. I hope that.. in some way, we’ll be able to make it work.” He laughs. He knows he’s delusional. You’ll never go for it. “But I know you’re young, and I know you don’t see yourself with someone like me. And that’s okay, I want you to do what you want. No matter what. And I’ll support you every step of the way.”

You’ve got your hands wrapped around his neck, taking him off guard in just a second. Your lips are on his. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around waist and pulling you tighter to him. “I think you deserve to be a dad.” You look at him. He smiles. He can feel tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away. “I think you’re just saying that.” You laugh, looking down. “It’s true. And I want you to know that I wouldn’t cheat you out of this just because I’m scared. I am scared. But you’ll be a great dad. And.. if you think for a second I’d wish for something different, to be with someone my age or under different circumstances, you’re wrong.” You mumble. He chooses to say nothing. He give himself a minute to really let what you’ve said sink in, sting him to the core.

He pulls you back into him, not caring if anyone happens to pass by.

—

“Y/N. No.” He breathes. “John. I can’t miss this. If I miss one more mission, they’ll know what’s going on.” You seethe. You’re trying to be quiet. He pulled you into his room for this.

“Y/N. You are pregnant. I’m saying no.” He breathes. He picks up his radio, and turns his back to you so that you can’t snatch it out of his hand. “Y/N isn’t feeling well, she won’t be accompanying everyone for this mission.” He announces. You stand there, unimpressed. The fight you have put up isn’t going to be enough, and you know it. “You don’t get to tell me what to do John.” You breathe. “Y/N. This isn’t about you.” He breathes. “Yes it is!” You raise your voice. “It’s my baby too goddamnit!” You flinch as he yells at you. “It’s my baby too. And I care about you okay? These last couple months have been nothing short of stressful and you’re the only goddamn person here keeping me sane. I love you, and I love this baby. I don’t want you out there on the field anymore and if I have to, I’ll stop lying about it. I’ll tell them you’re pregnant, and you won’t be able to go anyways.” He breathes. His chest is heaving, and you’re stunned.

Your eyes are wide, lips slightly parted. It takes him a second to calm down enough to try to apologize. “I’m.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

“You… you love me?” You ask. He swallows hard, only just now realizing what he’s said. He sighs. “Yes. I love you.” He slides his hat off. He’s still in his full gear from earlier. You’re in complete shock, and he knows he’s fucked up. It was too soon. “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have said that.” He breathes. He’s starting to panic, he didn’t want to scare you off. “I love you too, John.” Your admission is small, it takes him by surprise. He can’t believe his ears. The way that he’s staring at you, it’s pure need. You can feel the intensity between the both of you, and whatever god put you both here, you wanted to thank them. A hiccup leaves your lips, knees feeling weak as he creeps closer. “John.” You whimper. He closes the gap between the both of you, knowing exactly what you need. Being a little more rough than he intends as he pushes you back up into the wall behind you. His lips move against yours fervently. Kissing you like you’re about to turn to dust right in his hands. He’s panting when he pulls away, attacking your neck. He holds your shirt tightly, pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes are screwed shut tightly, knuckles turning white from the grasp he has on you. “I love you. I fucking love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I will do whatever it takes to keep the both of you safe, until I die. I swear to god.” He breathes. He lets go of your shirt with one of his hands. Pushing his hand up your shirt, feeling the slight bump that’s begun to form. Tears spill from your eyes, how the hell did you end up here?

“Make love to me John.” You pant.

He wastes not even a second, lifting you up and laying you down onto his bed. He’s tearing off his gear as fast as he possibly can, not even bothering to see if the door is locked. He doesn’t care anymore. The only thing he even gives a shit about anymore is you and his baby. When he slides into you, your freeze, the air leaving your lungs. You didn’t realize just how much you had missed it. Your eyes filled with tears again, and you clawed at his back, taking in a sharp gasp with every deep thrust he took into you. Each one showing you exactly what you meant to him. Proving everything he’s just said 100% correct. He loved you, and he was going to show you just how much. You’ve got a hand wrapped in his hair, head tilted back into his pillow. Your legs are wrapped around his back and he’s panting into you, his room feels at least 20 degrees hotter.

The both of you have beat red, hot sweaty skin. Teary eyes. His dog tag dangles in your face, rattling as he thrusts deep inside of you. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hard. “I love you.” He breathes. “I love you too John.” A gasp leaves your lips as he thrusts a bit harder. “So goddamn much.” He breathes. His teeth are gritted, he needs his body on yours. If he wasn’t the weight holding you down, surely you’d float away. He was Captain John Price, he didn’t deserve nothing like this. No happy stress-free life. No happy ever after with a baby, and a woman who loves him. He deserved nightmares and flashbacks. He deserved anti-depressants that kept him sane, he deserved to take ambien just to help him sleep at night, to stop the constant screaming, smell of burning flesh from his brain. He didn’t deserve to feel comfortable or good. He didn’t deserve to have a baby that called him Dad, someone he could take care of and spoil. Someone he could treat ten folds better than he was ever treated as a child.

He holds back his tears, but you can’t. He kisses them away as he makes love to you, keeping his thrusts steady, you deserved to feel good. After all of the stress and discomfort. You deserved to be underneath him, letting him worship you. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking pretty.” He breathes. You’re clutching at his sides, and he groans as he feels you clenching around him. “John- I’m going to-“ you pant. You cup his cheeks with your hands, pulling him down into you. You kiss him hard as you cum, reaching your high. You moan into his lips, the only thing keeping you grounded is the scratch of his mustache. He screws his eyes shut, deepening the kiss when he reaches his own high, holding himself up with one hand, holding your jaw a little harder than he intends. So that he can kiss you hard, so that you couldn’t shy away from him. He needs you to know what you mean to him. You gasp into his mouth when you feel his warmth filling you, painting your walls. He keeps you still, when he finally pulls away from you, it’s only for a second, so he can lay next to you. Pulling you into him again. He pulls the blanket over the both of you.

Later that same night, he’s watching you as you’re getting dinner. You’ve told him over and over again, don’t make it look obvious but the protective side of him just can’t. You’re carrying his baby, he watches you like a hawk. Even when you don’t know it. “Cap, have you got a crush on her something?” Gaz laughs. John forgets he’s even there. He’s so focused on you. “Uh.. no. Of course not.” He laughs. “I don’t believe that for a second.” He laughs. “Yeah, even I’ve seen it. You watch her nonstop.” Soap laughs, taking a bite of his food. “No.. it’s not like that.” He mumbles. “Than what’s it like?” He asks. Everyone quiets immediately as you sit down at the same table. Right next to John. “Hey, Y/N. Are you sparring tomorrow?” Another solider asks. “Oh.. um. No unfortunately not.” You mumble. “Why not? You haven’t sparred with anyone in months.” She complains. “Yeah, you haven’t gone on any missions either, you keep saying you’re sick.” You sigh, getting annoyed with everyone bugging you. “Come on, you need to spar with us more or you’re going to get out of shape.”

“I can’t spar with you. Not anyone.” You mumble. “Oh come on, why not?”

“Because I’m 4 months pregnant.” You say it louder than anyone expects and she jumps a little bit. Everyone is staring at you wide eyed, you roll your eyes, standing up and walking away. “Um.. she didn’t mean to be so aggressive. You know.. hormones and whatnot.” Captain Price tries to console the girl you’ve just blown up on. Although he doesn’t really care how she feels. “Wait. Why aren’t you surprised, you knew?” Gaz asks. “Of course I knew, it’s mine.” The words have left his mouth before he even has time to think about it. Flinching when he realizes. “Look.. it’s a long story. We’ll have a meeting on Monday.” He mumbles. He picks up the both of your trays of food, walking away to find you. Everyone is still stunned, too shocked to move or say anything for a few minutes. “Holy shit. Did I just hear that right?” Gaz laughs. He’s still in complete shock. “Believe so.” Soap laughs. “Cap is going to be a dad.” He smiles.

“Hey..” John smiles when he sees you. “I was mean wasn’t I?” You mumble, tears gathering in your eyes. “Ah, I’m sure she understands Y/N. Nothing to get worked up about. But you and I definitely have some explaining to do.” He raises his eyebrows, smiling. You smile at him. Taking the tray from his hands. “S’alright sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.” He sits on the edge of the bed, passing you a plastic fork. He’s always trying to get you to eat, and when you like something, he offers you his. Saying he doesn’t want it or doesn’t like it. Even if he does, just so that he can see you smile. You are eating for two anyways. He doesn’t mind.

After that Monday morning, everyone is kind to you. They heard about the mission, what had gone wrong. Everything. You’re still on base for the time being, until everything gets settled. You apologized to everyone for your outburst, but of course they understood. They liked watching you and their Captain, even if it was a bit awkward at first. They liked watching him open things for you, stopping you when you were overdoing it. He caught you standing up on a step stool, and they couldn’t help but laugh as he scolded you like a small child, reaching up for something. He got you anything you asked for, he was kind to you.

He always gave you your favorite things, and when it came to MRE’s, he always gave you his vanilla pound cake. Which resulted in everyone giving you their vanilla pound cake. When Soap passed you his for the first time, you smile at him. And before you knew it, there were 3 more packages getting placed onto the table. “Gonna be one happy baby huh?” Soap smiles. You blushed and took them, John helping you open each of them.

Anytime Soap was around you, he’d gently fist bump your growing belly. Mumbling on about how “real soon he’d be able to fist bump your baby for real.”

It was a beautiful thing really. Until you had to leave the base of course. You’d hidden your pregnancy for long enough.

—

When the day comes, you’re drenched in sweat. Your eyes are heavy and tired and you can hear crying. The sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. When they pass you your baby for the first time. You can’t help it as the tears start to spill from your eyes. John watches teary eyed too, determined to not let them fall. But the moment his son is in his arms, he loses it. Turning his back to everyone as the tears start to spill from his eyes. His son is perfect, absolutely amazing. John nearly melts when he wraps his little hand around his finger.

Once they take your son and get him all cleaned up, leaving the both of you alone. The last thing you expect happens.

A knock at your door before it opens. “Hope everyone is decent!” You hear Soap call as quietly as he can for you to still hear. You smile when you see everyone coming in. The rest of task force 141, your brothers. John’s brothers. The best people you ever have had the pleasure of being around. “Had to convince everyone to let us get off base to come see ya.” Soap smiles. “We’re all sanitized and clean by the way, we wouldn’t have come in otherwise. Ghost even prayed his mask.” You smile. “You want to hold him?” You offer to Gaz, who’s standing by your bedside. “Oh.. uh. Sure.” John stands up to help you. Letting Gaz sit down in his spot before passing him the little baby. “Damn, you’re kinda heavy for being brand new.” Gaz smiles, the little baby sighing in his arms. “Must be all that pound cake huh?” He smiles. You roll your eyes.

They each take turns holding him, and he starts to get a little fussy right as John is about to pass him to Ghost, and you can sense him getting a little nervous, but the moment he’s in Ghost’s arms, he relaxes. “He likes you, lad.” John smiles. He grasps hold of Simons finger, like he had with John, and Simons eyes widen. “Damn.” He mumbles. “I’m not giving him back now, he’s mine.” Simon jokes. You smile.

“Well. What’s it like huh?” Gaz asks. “What?”

“Being a little family?” He smiles. “It’s uh.. it’s pretty cool.” John smiles. “She did amazing, I don’t know anyone can handle that.” You roll your eyes. “Didn’t have much of a choice.” You laugh.

After visiting for a couple hours, and everyone is gone, John is sitting near your bedside. You’re holding onto your son, tired eyes. He grasps your hand in his, placing a kiss on the top of it. “You’re a great mum.” He smiles. “You’re gonna be a great Dad.” You giggle. “I love you.” He mumbles. “I love you too, John.”