#I love all the things that make people tilt their heads

[munsonify]

all the small things

pairing. bob reynolds x gn!reader

summary. three times bob goes out of his way to show you kindness, and the one time you find out why

content warnings. loads of sweet sweet fluff and mutual pining (no one’s surprised), non established relationships, r being referred to as pretty, spiders & r being afraid of them, yelena and ava being nosy shits and an instigators (affectionate) (lovingly), eventual confession of feelings, not proofread

word count. 4167

a/n. here have another 3+1 with bob cause i love him and i have so many thoughts for him. also im not too good at characterizing ava so when shes mentioned it might be ooc im sorry

———

shared couch

it was hard trying to acclimate to living and working in the rebuilt tower. you liked the responsibility, you liked being in your feet and having something useful to do. while you may’ve unwillingly been recruited to be on the new avengers team, you were glad to be of use somehow. still, even with this sort of twisted contentment, it was… odd being in this tower full of people you’d only known for two short months.

you found a little difficulty in communicating with the team, something that was expectant. you’d barely known each other when the title of the new avengers was thrust upon you. everyone was grappling with their own issues as they tried to make sense of what was happening. some people opened up better than others.

someone you grew fond of quickly was bob. while he wasn’t the most open of the group, you found that he was pleasant to talk to. on the few occasions you were able to get more than simple small talk out of him, he was quite charming. even when stumbling through a punch line of a joke, it always landed right, making you let out small, genuine laughs. though the conversations may never be deep, you were grateful someone here was willing to talk with you, especially someone who was so easy to talk to.

the large, open living room inside of the tower was bustling with people. all six of your teammates were there, something that didn’t quite happen often. you realized quickly that alexei was droning on about a new promo idea he had for the team no one seemed to care much about. you didn’t care too much, either, frankly sick of the all the photoshoots and the public appearances. still, you wanted in on the conversation.

you searched the furniture for a place to sit, eyes falling on two different spots. one would have you smushed between walker and bucky, an unfortunate duo to be sitting by. the other was next to bob, who sat alone in silence, head lolling onto the cushion of the loveseat. his eyes were looking everywhere but alexei as if trying to keep his mind occupied. that’s how his eyes found you, who was shyly standing a little away from the furniture.

bob watched as your eyes flickered between the two empty spots, quickly catching on to your dilemma. you wanted so desperately to sit next to him, though unsure whether you should. a small wave of his hand caught your attention, eyes falling onto him like his had down to you. the hand he waved with dropped down to the cushion beside him, patting it gently, urging you to come sit. you were more than happy to oblige.

your pace was a little slow as you walk towards him, gently sliding onto the small couch next to him. hesitantly, bob nudged your arm, brief and nervous. you wondered only for a second if it was in case the other side of him made an appearance. he leaned in slightly after his nudge, whispering into your ear with a tilted head.

“thought it would be better than trying to squeeze next to them,” bob said, a finger pointing discreetly over at bucky and walker. “walkers riled up today anyways.”

it was your turn to lean in a little, a small smile playing on your face as you whisper back to him, watching alexei wave his hands around as he spoke. it was your turn to discreetly point, this time at the man on his feet. “i wonder why.”

bob let out a short huff of air out of his nose as a way of laughing, eyes flickering over at you as you finally settled down next to him, resting your head back on the cushion the same way he was. your whispered conversation continued on below everyone else’s much louder conversation. while the theatrics were entertaining, you’d much rather speak with bob. he was kind.

———

coffee runs

it’d been a long few days for the team. between a two day mission that required more of your time than it should’ve, nearly excessive training that had your legs feeling like jelly, and meetings valentina practically forced you guys into, it was hard to find time for yourself. needless to say, you were quite drained.

with a cheek pressed against your pillow and your phone loosely in hand, you lay rested against your very welcoming bed. this was the first time you’d been inside your room in nearly four days. the first thing you attended to was a much needed shower, sweat gripping your body from the two hour training session from earlier in the morning. while you should be getting yourself ready for a press conference, you decided that spending some time on your phone just a little long was more important. you were better in a rush, anyhow. the hardest part of getting ready was done, you were clean. two and a half hours was plenty enough time to rest for a while longer.

you were rather enjoying that peace when you were interrupted by a knock on your door, soft and steady. a groan escaped your chest before you could think twice, turning your phone off as you let it drop face down on your bed. you pushed your aching body off of your bed, wobbling a little on your feet, before you forced yourself upright and to the door. relief washed over your body when you opened the door to reveal bob, shoulders straight and unusually confident, something you didn’t dwell on for too long.

in his hands were two large, warm coffees with small black writing on it. he was quick to smile at you as his fingers indent the cups slightly, something that happened almost on instinct when his eyes found you.

“hey,” bob greeted, voice a little weak. he let out a cough to clear his throat, as if that would help him amplify his voice. it only worked a little, though. “i, uh- i got you a coffee.”

you watched as he held out one of the coffees to you, gratefully reaching out for it with both hands. your fingers gently grazed his as he passed it along to you, an accidental touch that had his throat closing up just slightly. bob had more to say that was surely going to come out as a long, drawn out ramble, though it got caught in his throat. he took that as a momentary win, glad that he wasn’t completely making a fool out of himself like he usually does around you.

you always made him so nervous. you were kind and funny and so pretty to look at. it was easy to fall for a person like you, so it was no wonder that he did. he just wished he wasn’t such a pathetic wreck around you sometimes.

“thank you, oh my god,” you let out, warmth radiating onto your hands as you held the cup. you brought your lips up to it in an instant, tasting the deliciousness of the slightly bitter liquid. another groan left your mouth, this time soft and appreciative. you licked the coffee off your top lip that remained, realization hitting you right as you do so. “you know my order?”

“yeah,” bob squeaked out, rushing to answer you. a sudden burst of embarrassment surged through him. he realized how bad this might look, how it may come across creepy or something that he knows your order by heart. he wasnt meaning to come across that way, he simply just remembered. “you told me about this really good latte you had last week, thought that you might like another, ya know?”

that’s when the floodgates opened up, his rambling beginning with no sign of stopping. “it’s been a busy week, we’ve got that stupid press conference later, and you looked so tired after training that i thought you could use one. not that you looked bad or anything! god, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i just figured since i was already out for a coffee for myself that you’d maybe want one too.”

bob let out a low, nervous chuckle when he finished speaking, shoulders slouching back down to its usual position. a little bit of his coffee had spilled over his whitened knuckles amidst his talking, his hand shaking ever so slightly, his grip a little too tight on the flimsy cup. his eyes fell down to the ground as he began shrinking into himself.

“that’s so thoughtful of you,” you told him once he let himself breathe after speaking. his eyes flickered up to your face searching for an insincerity he didn’t find any trace of from you. he never did, now that he thought about it. the only time you were even a little insincere was when you were speaking to walker, who tended to get on everyone’s nerves sometimes.

you had the prettiest smile on your face, one that eased his nerves down to where they usually were when he was around you. he was flustered, but not on edge. you weren’t weirded out by him. in fact, you seemed flattered that he remembered your order, and even more so that he’d thought to get you one.

“thank you, bob, really,” you told him, giving him a genuine nod.

“of course,” he responded, a small, nervous smile finding its way back onto his face. “anytime, really!”

“would you wanna come in?” you offered, opening up your door for him as a welcome. “we’ve got some time before we need to be at the press conference, i can finally tell you about how alexei gave yelena the birds and the bees talk on our way to the mission.”

“you’re joking?” bob asked, eyes going wide in shock and amusement. he looked just as bewildered as you did whilst it was happening, letting himself inside of your room. you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, face scrunching up as you recall the awfully uncomfortable situation, closing the door shut behind the man.

you tried not to think too much about how bobs scent washed over you as he passed you briefly, and you tried even harder not to stare too hard at the gorgeous smile that rested on his face. he looked a lot more at ease now that he knew you weren’t off-put by his actions. you liked this look on him. still nervous and a little fidgety, but more comfortable. he didn’t look like he wanted to crawl into his skin anymore.

and, even when you two sat right next to each other on the edge of your bed, thighs just inches apart, bob still felt better than before. it was odd the way he felt around you. while still incredibly flustered by your presence, he always felt comfortable around you. he never felt judged by you, and if he did, you unknowingly brushed that aside for him. it was like second nature to you.

———

loose spider

the aversion you had towards spiders always seemed a little childish to you. it was something you thought you’d eventually grow out of, or an issue you’d be at least a little less affected by by now. you were a tough combat fighter, one that has seen some unimaginable things. a fighter that still, for some reason, was afraid of spiders.

you never told this to the team, it was useless information, something you were sure would never need to be addressed. quite frankly you’d forgotten about this little fear of yours until you came face to face with it in the most unfortunate events such as this one. like usual, the team was bumping into each other in the towers kitchen in desperate search of some breakfast. while you rarely ever seemed to eat the same meals, you always accompanied each other before a long day.

with the shuffling of your feet, you found your way to the fridge in search of some butter for your toast. instead, you were met with a jet black spider that sat right on the handle, stopping you in your tracks. your hand was merely inches away from it when you realized it was sat there, watching as it moves a couple inches towards your hand as you pulled it back. you let out a choked gasp as you stumbled back slightly, eyes blown wide as you stare.

all you wanted was some damn buttered toast, yet here you were.

“someone get it,” you blurted out quickly, eyes not moving from the spider as you frantically pointed at it. your words caught the attention from everyone in the room. it was rather silent this morning, only a few whispers here and there between each other. everyone seemed to stare at you for a few moments instead of helping.

“it’s just a spider,” walker deadpanned once he saw what you were pointing at as if it was obvious. “it’s not a big deal.”

“it is to me,” you whispered weakly, embarrassed by your fear. you wish you could just ignore it, get what you needed and go, but you couldn’t. the mere sight of the spider made you shiver. you heard feet shuffling behind you, and you half expected it to be john ready to make fun of you or something.

instead, it was bob, who moved past you without a word. he was careful with his steps moving forward, hands reaching out to gently scoop the spider off of the fridge. once it was secured in his big palms, he slowly turned around, letting you see that he has it without actually showing it to you.

“‘m gonna go let it outside,” he told you in the softest tone. he offered you up a small, un-judgmental smile, before he started to move past you again, heading towards the elevator. this time, you didn’t flinch when the spider came near you. bob was kind, and despite whatever your brain was trying to tell you, you knew he wouldn’t tease you with it, or bring it near you to scare you even more.

“thank you,” you replied, looking at him with the most appreciative expression. he simply nodded as he continued on, the same smile playing on his lips still there, calming your anxiety.

god, he was so gentle. most people would’ve killed the spider, squashing it in their hands or with a shoe. but bob? bob was escorting down one of the largest buildings in new york to safely set it outside. he didn’t make a big fuss out of it, or make you feel bad for your fear. instead, he made you feel seen, safe. even if it was ‘just’ a spider. you were deep in thought about the man as you watched his figure disappear out of sight when yelena broke the silence.

“well that’s just adorable,” she quipped, a small smile playing on her face as she swirls the coffee in her hand. “i think a little someone has a crush on you.”

“the spider?” alexei asked cluelessly, earning an eye roll from ava who was perched up on one of the counters, and a quiet ‘dumbass’ from bucky who was nose deep in some book he hadn’t looked up from this entire conversation.

your face heated up at yelena’s comment, eyebrows furrowing together as you glance over at her. you finally move to open the fridge, grabbing ahold of the butter you were in search of.

“bob doesn’t have a crush on me,” you told her, shaking your head in disbelief. your voice was shaky, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because the adrenaline from the spider, or the possibility of bob having a thing for you.

it’s not that you didn’t like the idea, it’s just that you didn’t think it was true. sure, you had a blooming crush on him, and it would be amazing if he’d felt the same about you. there was just no way bob felt that way. he was simply being kind and attentive to you like he always was. this wasn’t new, and it definitely wasn’t motivated with anything romantic.

“just saying,” yelena mumbled, drawing her attention back to the meal in front of her. “i don’t think he would’ve been that nice about it to any of us.”

“can you imagine bob looking at walker like that?” ava piled on with giggles. her next words were laced with a fake affection, swooning in exaggeration as she looks at the blonde haired man. “don’t worry walker, i’ll take it outside for you!”

everyone laughed at ava’s nonsense, even bucky let out a huff of air out of his nose before she said one last thing. “he would’ve dragged him for it, y/n. clearly bobs just got a big ole soft spot for you.”

you spent the rest of breakfast in silence as you sat in your thoughts, picking at your toast and sipping at your juice when you realized you were being nearly too still. you tensed up a little when bob came back to the kitchen, frowning slightly when you realized his food must be a little cold now. your eyes lingered on him as he sat, something he noticed. he gave you another soft, closed lip smile, as if reassuring you in his own little way.

could he have a thing for you? could bob feel the same as you do? you tried to be optimistic about it, letting hope linger inside of you at the thought that maybe yelena and ava were right. you still doubted yourself. that’s just who bob was. kind, honest, caring. there’s no way he was only like that with you.

———

clean laundry

maybe you were being too confident in yourself. you brought a large load of laundry into the laundry room in the tower, slipping what you could inside the washer and dryer to get it done and over with. it was tough getting it to the room itself, but now that you had to bring it back up to your room you wished you would’ve just done two smaller loads.

you had your fabric softener barely gripped with a few of your fingers as you braced the hamper, waddling your way towards the elevator, leaning your whole body towards the buttons to indicate you’re wanting to go up. you tried to keep ahold of everything, knee pushing upwards to keep the hamper in place.

getting inside the elevator was worse. you nearly knocked over your clothes when you sat it down, hands fumbling to press the number for the living quarters. why they didn’t put a laundry room on your floor was beyond you. valentina was, as usual, no help when you pressed her about it. she simply shrugged it off and moved along. as if she couldn’t be more frustrating of a human being.

the hamper wasn’t super heavy, only heavy enough for you to struggle a little lugging it around with you across the large tower. you huffed and puffed your way out of the elevator when you finally make it there, irritation growing rapidly as you try not to drop any clean clothes on the floor. you didn’t want a trail of potential undergarments leading towards you room.

you weren’t even a quarter of your way to your room when bob coincidentally turned the corner, finding you struggling slightly with your clothes. you gave him a tight lipped smile, one that was clearly full of annoyance. he was quick to swoop in to help. of course he was.

“can i help?” bob offered, walking up to you with his arms out slightly. you shook your head no, though your eyes told a different story. all he had to do was cock an eyebrow at you for you to give in, sheepishly setting the hamper down on the ground.

“thanks,” you whispered out, watching as he effortlessly picked up the hamper and began to walk. you followed behind him with a slight stumble at the start, fabric softer in hand. while you were strong as you were, sometimes you wished you had superhuman strength like some of your teammates did. it would certainly help you with your mundane tasks.

as you followed bob to your room, you began to think about what yelena had told you about bob having a crush on you. he was always eager to help you out. you always thought it was nothing, just a way to be friendly, something he would do for everyone. the thought was eating you up inside. you wanted desperately for him to feel that way about you. you wanted him to want you.

you were surprised at what came out of your own mouth next as he opens up your door for you, letting you walk in first, quietly following behind you.

“ya know,” you started, pointing beside your bed to let bob know to set your hamper there. he did just that, watching as you start to pick at the laundry to sort through it. “yelena told me you might have a crush on me.”

bob froze in an instant. he watched as you seemingly nonchalantly started to fold your clothes, setting them down on your bed right afterwards. your hearts seemed to pound together quickly, sharing the same rapid pulses at your words.

“she did?” bob choked out, eyes blown wide. he seemed just as shocked at the proclamation as you did.

“yeah,” you affirmed, glancing over at him. he was visibly nervous, hands fumbling with each other, fingers moving together in attempts to calm himself. you started to panic more at the sight of him, trying your best to distract yourself with your laundry. did you make him uncomfortable?

you realized that you might’ve messed up big time. you didn’t reveal your feelings for him directly, though it felt like by telling him that, you were opening yourself up to questions. ones that would lead him straight to your feelings. it felt like you were already out in the open for him to see right through.

“would it be so bad?” bob whispered, eyes piercing into your skin, trying his best to get his read on you. even if you felt like he knew how you felt, he hadn’t a single idea. “if i, uh… did had a crush on you?”

that made you stop in your tracks, hands gripping the half folded shirt in your hands. your eyes trailed to him one last time, looking right into his. bobs eyes were big and round and blue as you stare at each other, tension thick in the air as he waits for your answer.

“not at all,” you whispered back. you finished folding the shirt without looking at it, setting it blindly on the bed. relief visibly washed over bobs body, tension releasing from his jaw and his shoulders. his hands still fidgeted together, though, as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“i was really hoping it wasn’t obvious,” bob told you, chuckling quietly at himself. “i guess i was.”

“i didn’t notice until she mentioned it,” you replied, deciding to lean into the newfound information. “not until you were a gentleman and saved me from that spider.”

you two had matching cheesy grins on your faces at your words, the slight absurdity of it bringing out a giddiness that made your chest bloom with warmth. all he could do was shake his head at you at first, a hand of his reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “just know i didn’t show it any mercy for scaring you like that. i put it right on the sidewalk instead of the grass.”

it’s your turn to laugh this time. “the poor bastard got what it deserved.”

as your guys’ laughter died down, you went back to silently folding your clothes. the air was a lot less tense now that everything was - for the most part - out in the open. you thought the conversation over as bob started slowly pacing across your room, finding the swivel chair at your desk to sit at. he leaned back as casually as he could manage, hands smoothing down the front of his shirt. you realized that you might not have been clear on how you felt, doing so in the best way you could think of. teasing and kind.

“you know this means you have to take me on a date now, right?” you asked him, eyebrows lifting up with expectation. bob nodded quickly and enthusiastically, eyes bright as he looks up at you from his seat across the room.

“of course, y-yeah!” bob tells you immediately, a small spout of rambles beginning like they always do when he’s nervous. “i would be honored to, i mean, i’ve been thinking about it for months. i’d be kinda crazy not to now that i know i’m not completely off base with you.”

and honestly, you couldn’t wait.

[mattsangelbaby]

⋆.˚✮ please please please . . chris sturn.

𝜗᭪ warnings ! smut, p in v (unprotected), slight angst, etc.

in which . . fratboy!chris proves to you he’s the one, and will be the only one.

SHORT N’ SWEET writing marathon . . fic #2

the loud bass rings through your ears, along with the crowded bodies surrounding you. the air reeks of alcohol and weed — your nostrils flaring at the burning stench. frat house parties were never your favorite. the overwhelming amount of people was enough to make you want to leave. but you only came here for one thing and one thing only — chris.

you and chris are.. well you don’t really know exactly. you and chris met in this exact location about five months ago. from that time to now, you and him have had a crazy relationship one could say, from friends to benefits to basically dating. chris was a great guy. in some aspects.

he’s so sweet to you, and treats you like you both are dating. makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. until your not there. the minute your gone, another girl is already in his bed. you knew what you were signing up for when starting something with chris, you just thought in some way maybe he’d be different — prove you wrong.

but clearly you were right, and you were done. officially done. you move your way past people as you slightly push them out of the way finding the one person you need, going to where he always is. man spread on the couch with a joint in his mouth, with his signature smirk he always has.

you both lock eyes as chris’s eyebrows raise slightly, titling his head at you. you make your way over to him until your body is standing in between his legs, your arms crossed over your chest.

chris looks up at you, his hands making there way to your hips pulling you closer into him. “wassup’ ma,” you slightly scoff your eyes meeting anywhere but his. “got a problem?”

your eyes meet his red rimmed droopy ones, and you can’t help but stare knowing he looks way too good. “you’re my problem,” you mumble slightly moving out of his grasp. he smirks at that, letting out a slight chuckle before bringing his joint towards you, offering you some. “hm? so what’d i do this time, huh?”

you give him a dirty look, your emotions getting hard to keep at bay, before shaking your head at his offer. “what’d you do? what haven’t you done. chris i’m so tired of this, so tired of you.” he tilts your head farther at you before letting out a scoff, shaking his head slightly at your actions.

“we really gonna do this here?” you sigh quietly as you reach for his hand pulling him up from the couch. chris’s hand laces with yours, giving you a slight squeeze, letting you lead the way to his bedroom.

you both walk up the stairs to his bedroom, passing and pushing your way through. as you open his door your met with the familiar room you know so well. so many good memories spent here, and some more than others definitely for the books. chris shuts the door behind him before putting his joint out. he leans on the door, staring at you — looking you up and down. “you gonna tell me what’s up w’you, or just keep standin’ there?”

“don’t talk to me like that,” you declare desperately trying to keep yourself calm. “i can’t keep doing this anymore, chris. seriously. how are you gonna act like i’m the only girl for you then the second i’m gone, another girl is here? right in this exact room.”

his eyes widen at your statement before slightly softening at your sad expression, the glassy look in your eyes. “baby, i mean it when i say it. they mean nothin’ to me, nothin’ at all,” chris reassures you as he walks closer up to you. “that doesn’t mean anything chris. just because they mean “nothing” doesn’t mean it won’t hurt me. you don’t get to act like you love me then fuck another girl.”

chris stands right in front of you — his arms moving to wrap loosely around your waist while one hand moves up to your cheek wiping away a stray tear. “sweetheart, m’sorry. i really am my sweet girl, you’re the only girl f’me always,” he coos taking in your sad expression. “what’d i gotta do to prove it, hm?”

you shrug, your eyes looking everywhere but his. you hate how right it feels to be in his arms, you hate how much small words from him comfort you. you hate it. “i don’t know, i just want you to prove me wrong. show me i really am the only one.”

chris hums, rubbing up and down on your hips before his lips make their way to your neck. “i think i know how,” he mumbles between wet soft kisses, “jus’ gotta let me show you.”

you softly sigh as chris pushes you down gently onto the bed, his body which reeks of alcohol, weed and his cologne you know all too well, climbs ontop of yours. “chris,” you gasp as his mouth sucks and licks at the skin of your collarbone.

“shh, gotta prove to my girl she’s the only one, yeah?” chris continues to make his way down your body, kissing and touching you wherever he can. his hands make there way to the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up and over your head, your white laced bra now on display.

you reach behind your back as you unclasp your bra, dropping it onto the floor next to you. chris groans slightly at the sight of you, his mouth already kissing around your nipple. “look at my girl, prettiest one i know. my beautiful girl,” chris purrs before attaching his mouth onto your nipple, you letting out a moan as your hands lace through his brown locks.

“chris— please,” you whimper while your legs wrap around his waist, your hips beginning to buck into his trying to get the friction you need. chris pulls off with a small pop before moving to give your other boob the same attention. “i’ll give ya’ want you want ma, i promise.”

you push his head farther onto your chest, chris’s mouth feeling nothing but heaven on your needy body. he pulls off leaving a soft kiss on your nipple before beginning to kiss his way down your body. leaving a wet kiss above your shorts, his fingers find the sides of your shorts, pulling them down slowly down your legs along with your panties.

chris is met with your soaked pussy — legs spread and wide ready just for him. “you’re soaked huh? jus’ from my mouth?” you nod as your hands grip onto his biceps pulling him up towards you, slotting your lips between his. your lips harshly meet with his, your tongue sliding into chris’s mouth as he begins to pull down his shorts and boxers.

one of his hands move down to grip his cock pumping himself a few times before sliding into you with one quick thrust, your walls clenching around his length. “god this pussy was made f’me, wasn’t it?”

you nod as you begin to hold onto his shoulders as chris moves in and out of you at an intense pace, hitting that spot so so deep inside of you. “my girl, my sweet baby all mine— yeah. all mine.” his hips continue to snap against yours, one hand making it down between you two, rubbing fast circles onto your sensitive bud.

“the only one for me aren’t you? my pussy forever, hm?” you moan loudly, the feeling of him so deep inside you making you absolutely dumb on his cock. “yes! — god yes.”

chris continues to pound into you— your cries and moans filling the air as your a complete mess. no matter what chris might do you know nothing could ever beat how he makes you feel, how amazing he makes you feel every single time.

you begin to clench around chris’s cock as you arch into his movements, chasing your high your so close to reaching. “ya’ close, baby?” chris pants as he speeds up his actions, chasing his own high while you nod below him, loud pornagraphic moans leaving you.

“cum for me my girl. show me how i proved you wrong, yeah?”

© mattsangelbaby

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ·˚ ༘ ꒱ i’m sorry this is so ass and so long but hi!

ꪆৎ˚ marathon concept and all other credits go to @delilahsturniolo :)

[milkbean69]

Hero vs Civilian smut thoughts

Civilan Clark is the type to be soft and slow with you. Oh Clark, sweet sweet Clark. He is such a giver, can you say service dom. He lives to serve and that applies inside and outside of the bedroom. We know this man is busy all the time, but when he has those moments alone with you, oh boy. Alot of people assume the only reason he is so gentle with you is due to his strength but I think it's mostly because he is a love maker.

Love making is his specialty, he's so much more into the intimacy itself than the feeling of his cock squeezing your insides. Just kissing and licking down the nape of your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Just you two holding each other and being in the moment. Cockwarming, this man loves to cockwarm. Simpily just being their with you, inside of you, makes him feel all the more closer.

I'd also like to think that he can be a submissive as well. Clark is so tired after the day. He just need you to take care of it sometimes, he can't be super all the time. His life is so loud with the weight of him being Superman, but with you, it makes it so much quieter.

Civilan Bruce is a sub, sorry to tell ya. This man needs a break, he has to deal with so much shit whether its in or out of the clowl. Having to be a billionaire, batman, father, husband, philanthropist is all very mentally and phyically taxing, just wanting to be taken care of by his bae is not a lot to ask. Its actually a great dichotomy you get soft Bruce at home and rought Bruce in the streets.

Unless he's injured coming strait home from patrol, then you don't really have to be soft with him. Baby, his body is your toy to do as you please. If you wanna ride and suck and swallow him to your hearts desire who is he to argue with that. Between Bruce and Clark, Bruce is the more adventerous one in the bedroom, he is so much more willing to go with/ try these new and weird kinks of yours. Hell he even has a few of his own.

I think due to his lack of normalcy and weird attraction i.e Selena and Talia, attest to his will of being dominated.

Hero Clark is fast thruster, fast but not rough, if he go's rough, he might break you. There are two things I know for certain. One, he loves to fuck you behind. Your whole back pressed up against his chest, head tilted back on his shoulder while he trails sloppy kisses down your neck. His thick cock squeezing your walls, so warm, so wet, all that juice treatinging to spill out of you at any moment.

Two, he loves to see that pretty fucked out face of yours. He likes it when you lay on your back so he can see everything shake and jiggle. Having you pinned down on the pavement, watching how his cock slides in and out of your cum soaked cunt. Your juices dripping all over his thighs, the sounds your spewing, causing him to spill another load inside of you.

God, I just know he would look so hot fucking you in his suit. Man of Steel, coming to you to relieve the ach in his pants. He saves the world, but he needs you to save him.

Hero Bruce is the type be fast and rough with you. When he's on patrol he dosen't really have the time to be patient, quickies are a given. Going through the motions of him bending you over the batmobile in some dingey allyway, ripping off your panties, then spitting on your cunt before he shoves his cock inside you.

Girl you better be prepared for when he needs you, cuz if you aint good and stretched then your getting them thick gloved fingers spreading and splitting you open. You don't even have time to breath before he's slamming his cock in and out of you, arms pined behind your back, face pressed up against the hood.

You better go on and thank God for the noise of the city cuz the way your gonna be screaming. It don't even really matter if anyone catches y'all either, because who the hell is going to believe batman was in some allyway getting some nookie.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ── .⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝟶𝟷. 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗

⟢ pairing: james potter x fem!reader ⟢ summary: you meet your new neighbor (and he's a flirt!) ⊹ 771 ⟢ contains: no warnings ⟢ series masterlist

note: short part! this is more of a prologue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You fumble with the doorknob blindly, the three boxes stacked on your forearms obstructing your vision. You can’t quite seem to get a grip on it, having to twist your arm awkwardly even to make an attempt, all while you balance the weight of the heavy boxes. As if things could be going any worse, the backpack you lazily threw over one shoulder slides down your arm, the sudden shift of weight dragging you down.

Curse you for being too lazy to split this into two trips, you think as you imagine yourself and all your boxes in a heap on the floor. But before you drop everything and lose your balance completely, you feel the boxes get caught on the wall instead. No, not the wall—

“I’ve got you,” is what you hear as a pair of hands steadies the toppling boxes.

That voice. Velvety and warm and… British. You’ve never been one of those girls who swoon over an accent, but damn. If all the men here sound like that, moving to London was well worth it on that account alone.

“Can I help?” he asks, sliding his hands under the boxes to take the weight from yours.

“Yeah, please. Thank you,” you say as the stranger lifts the boxes from your arms with ease. He turns to the side so you can see each other, and a little voice in the back of your head is shouting at you, telling you not to look at his biceps straining under the weight of your things.

This is your new neighbor? Everything about this old building that worried you suddenly feels trivial. His tan skin, his dark curls, and, if the muscles on his arms are any indication, what’s beneath his shirt must be quite the sight too.

He has that look in his eyes—warm, golden eyes—that you’ve been getting all day. The momentary surprise when you speak and people realize you’re American. Sometimes it turns into a series of questions, other times an eye roll, but your new neighbor shakes it off with a smile.

Fuck, you didn’t think he could get any more attractive but that smile couldn’t just win awards, it could end wars.

“I’m James,” he introduces himself in that velvety voice. “And you’re… moving in?”

You suddenly remember where you are and what you’re doing. While fixing your bag over your shoulder, you open the door to your new apartment—or flat, as they say here—introducing yourself while holding the door for him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says. “Where do you want these?”

“Anywhere is fine. Thank you so much,” you tell him, putting your bag down on the floor near the wall.

He places the boxes near some others in what will be your living room once your furniture arrives.

“D’you need any help? I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay.”

“Why not? You can stare at my arms some more while I lift your things. I don’t mind,” he says nonchalantly, his eyes shamelessly trailing down your frame before flicking back up with a grin.

Oh. Okay, James.

He may have busted you for your stolen glances, but his lingering gaze gave away just as much as yours did. The way his eyes traveled down your body wasn't just looking—it was appreciating. Trying to tease you is an interesting move when he revealed his hand by checking you out so brazenly. And there’s a certain confidence that comes with knowing he’s just as attracted to you as you are to him.

You grin back. “As much as I would love to put you to work, that was unfortunately the last of it. But I am expecting some heavy packages this week, how ‘bout I let you know when they get here?”

His lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll be waiting,” he says smoothly.

He passes by you slowly, heading for your door. When his arm brushes yours, he pauses, then leans in slightly, his head tilting close enough to be in your space without overstepping.

“If you do need anything—carrying packages, or anything else—I’m right next door.” His words were charged with the heat of the moment, but there was something genuine in his tone too.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say softly, your gaze flickering from one eye to the other.

“And by the way,” he says as he resumes his journey out of your apartment. “Welcome to London.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[itzpookiepooh]

A Sirens Song

A siren’s voice can only be heard by those who will listen

There were many stories around the island. Watch out for the ocean especially at night. There were tales of a song so beautiful it lures you into the glistening sea. A song so vivid that you stopped in your tracks to find the source. The melody could carry you away from any place, any thought, and wake you from any dream.

You had moved here for the summer to spend time with your grandparents. Your grandmother gets lonely on the island wanting more girl time while your grandfather just likes having you around. You loved it here life wasn’t fast paced and the people were kind. The beach was your favorite part because the sand lit up at night. Bioluminescence was a beautiful thing.

Tonight was no different as you watched the water hit the sand from your bedroom window. The bracing winds flowing through your bedroom making your sketches fly gently across the floor. The feel of the bracing waves rumbling the ground. You stare out into the sea wondering what life would be like if you were a creature of the sea. That’s when you saw it, a head sticking out of the water. Was someone hurt?

You moved quickly to see if you were hallucinating. Your grandparents sleep long since the early evening none the wiser. You leave your shoes on the pavement and run through the soft sand. Your feet sinking in with every step as you reach the edge of the shore. You swore you saw someone. They seem to match the color scheme of the beach.

You waved slowly to see if they could see you. For all you know you could be going crazy and the mysterious creature wasn’t there. It’s mouth opened speaking to you but you stood there confused. You walked closer and the figure was a man. His hair surrounding him a beautiful bluish purple. His eyes a glowing bluish hue making yours widen. He lifts his hand out of the water to beckon you closer, a slow beckoning finger.

You walked closer like a physical pull to him. The closer you got the more he rises out of the water. He was breathtaking, carved by the Gods themselves. You reached out to him waiting to touch his soft skin. His fingers laced with yours, his intense stare burning through you. You felt a pull, a connection, like you knew him for a long time.

His mouth opens once more, it moves in different variations of the ‘O’ shape. You tilt your head at him confused, what is he doing? Has he lost his voice? You stare at his lips causing him to abruptly stop and hold your face to look at him. His stern gaze softens just enough for you to notice.

‘You can’t hear me.’ You read on his lips making you look at him with deer like eyes. You nod once firmly.

‘I’m deaf.’ You signed to him while also mouthing it.

His mouth slightly ajar as he stares at you. You can’t hear his song. He has never met anyone who can’t hear his song.

How did I do? This was a 3am thought so I really rolled with it 😅

[shosweet]

akaashi headcanons cus he can’t get out of my head 😵‍💫

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ keiji akaashi has dimples.

i don’t mean the small, barely visible ones. i mean the deep, majestic ones. even if he so much as lifts the corner of his mouth, a dimple shows up right in the middle of his cheek. he’s a little self-conscious about them though… :(

“whaddya mean you don’t like ‘em?” you pout, poking where they used to be.

“i dunno… i guess they always made me stand out,” he mumbles.

“they’re beautiful, keiji,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “make you you. they’re like the extra flare your pretty smile needs!”

after that, he’s smiled wider and covered his face less.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ keiji akaashi loooooooves the nicknames you give him.

kei, eiji, jiji, cash money — he loves them all maybe not the last one, even the ones he doesn’t quite understand at first.

“kaji? that’s a new one,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he pokes a straw through his milk box.

“i just thought of it!” you exclaim, taking a sip from yours.

“how’d you think of it?”

“keiji and akaashi; mix and tadaaa! — kaji! ahh i’m so smart!”

he only loves it because he considers it you forever calling him yours with each new name. he’ll never let anyone else call him what you do, though.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ keiji akaashi listens to clairo…

please put down the pitchfork and hear me out!!! he GENUINELY listens to clairo because he loves her vibe, lyrics, and overall style. he absolutely hates those “matcha loving, clairo listening, #socal” boys he sees on social media and would rather die than be associated with them. so, when you notice him listening to clairo for the first time, he gets a little scared.

“whatcha listening to, keiji?” you ask. he doesn’t budge, earphones still stuck in his ears. out of curiosity, you pick up his phone to see this hypnotic artist. keiji nearly has a heart attack from fear, eyes wide and face gone pale. once you see it’s clairo, you have a ton of questions on your mind.

“you listen to—”

“i’m not one of them please please don’t call me one of those things i am not one of them,” he rambles, clinging to your shirt. whatever question he answered definitely wasn’t on your mind, but his reaction only makes you giggle.

“i was gonna ask what your favorite song is, silly,” you say. he responds with a timid “oh,” removing one earpiece and giving it to you. he also shows you pictures of the albums he has at home that he keeps tucked away in his closet.

(his fav is partridge esp the live version 💆‍♀️)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ keiji akaashi always drinks a cup of tea every single night.

he loves how it warms his body and helps put his soul at ease. each night, he’ll set out his mug, boil some water, and place the teabag in with a small yawn. he def puts a couple drops of honey just for that extra flavor. he’ll slurp and sigh with much content, cozying himself up in his comfy pajamas. sometimes, he’ll read a couple chapters of a book while he drinks, pushing his glasses up after every sip.

even at little cafe’s, a nice cup of tea is his go-to! doesn’t seem like much of a coffee man tbh. even on nights where he as to cram, he refuses those coffee beans and heads straight for the tea bags.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ keiji akaashi is fluent in animal crossing.

i think once he started playing, he thought how they talk is so cute and he wanted to try it, too! not just that, but it’s his own secret language that he influenced onto you. he’d probably randomly speak it just to mess with people hehe.

“mimwmrmemwr? (you wanna eat after this?)” he asks you. his friends are a little confused, staring at him like he’s some alien.

“well, if you want to,” you reply. they look at you even weirder, absolutely flabbergasted.

“mmimrmwemrrm? (fast food or restaurant?)”

“i’m feelingggg sit down and eat.”

“mwmrmi! mwmrmem? (same! sushi okay?)”

“yes, sounds perfect!”

mouths agape, they look at each other with wide eyes and back to you.

“am i high or are they high??”

“you guys can come with if you want,” you shrugged, completely unfazed.

“where, your home planet???”

[juliettejwnewinesa]

I hope u don’t start hating sieun requests because i saw many people asking for it （πーπ） i want to ask if u don’t mind doing a request of sieun and him feeling anxious about being in love with reader?? it’s just that when i read fanfics about him and they write him like he would be a romantic person who immediately know it’s in love, it’s such a miss characterized thing 😞😞 i feel like he wouldn’t even know he is in love and feels scared and weird about his heart racing so fast with someone. 😭

Title: "What Is This?"

(Si-eun x Reader – Angst + Soft Realization, 3rd Person POV)

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

Si-eun didn’t know what it was, at first.

It wasn’t like he woke up one day with flowers blooming in his chest and a Shakespearean sonnet on his lips. He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen people fall in love before. He’d watched it ruin people, weaken them, make them reckless or dumb or blind. He’d told himself he’d never be that kind of person.

But now here he was, sitting across from Y/N in a too-bright convenience store at midnight, watching her stir the noodles in her cup, her eyes crinkling at something dumb she’d just said.

And his chest—hurt.

Not in a medical way. He wasn’t dying. Probably.

But it throbbed. Ached. Fluttered in this stupid, infuriating rhythm whenever she smiled at him like that. Like he mattered.

Like she cared.

He looked away.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

He nodded too fast. “Fine.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve been weird all night.”

He stayed quiet.

She didn’t push. She never did. That was the worst part. She let him be quiet. Let him be whatever version of himself he could manage that day. And somehow, that made the ache worse.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her lately. Not in a lustful way. In a stupid, clingy, I hope she’s eating well kind of way. He caught himself waiting for her texts, replaying things she said, noticing how cold her fingers got when she forgot her gloves.

It scared him.

When they brushed shoulders, and his ears turned red, he wanted to scream.

When she leaned her head on his arm on the train once and fell asleep, he nearly passed out.

What was this?

Why did she make the world quieter and louder at the same time?

Why did she make him feel so much?

He’d been cold for so long. Careful. Calculated. And then she walked into his life with her stupid bright hoodie and her dumb soft laugh and her kindness he didn’t know how to return, and now—

Now she looked at him like she was trying to understand him.

And it made him want to run.

He ignored her for three days.

Not on purpose. Not really.

He just... couldn’t handle it. His feelings were too loud. His thoughts were crawling all over each other. And he hated that she noticed.

On the fourth day, she cornered him outside his classroom, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“You’re mad at me?” she asked.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” she said calmly, eyes searching his face. “And it’s okay if you need space, but I want to know if I did something wrong.”

He swallowed.

“No,” he said finally. “You didn’t do anything. I just... I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She tilted her head. “With what?”

He looked away, frustrated. “With you.”

The silence stretched between them.

Then, quietly: “You don’t have to know.”

He frowned.

She stepped a little closer. “You don’t have to label it. Or rush it. You don’t even have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I just want to be in your life, Seok Dae. However you’ll let me.”

His chest did that thing again—tight, hot, painful.

He looked at her like she was light. Like she was a threat. Like she was hope.

And he hated how badly he wanted to reach for her.

"...Why do you like me?" he whispered.

Her eyes softened. “Because you try so hard not to be soft. But you are.”

He wanted to deny it. Tell her she was wrong.

But her hand brushed his, gentle and open.

And this time, he didn’t pull away.

[jkwrites-m]

Popcorn

Part 5 - Mall Rats

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: In an empty theater, Jungkook and Y/N shared stolen touches and teasing glances, turning a quiet movie into electricity.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, kissing, cursing, slight dom!Jungkook, public sex, unprotected sex, riding, oral (m. receiving), deepthroat

A/N: WOW I did not expect all the love on Welcome Home. tysm bbys 🫶

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

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The mall’s fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Jungkook and I strolled past the movie theater, the scent of buttery popcorn wafting through the air in waves that made my stomach growl softly.

The buzz of vending machines hummed in the background, echoing through the mostly quiet hallway. There weren’t many people around. Just a couple walking out of the theater and a lone employee behind the counter, lazily checking their phone.

Jungkook shot me a cheeky grin, his eyebrow piercing catching the light just right. There was something about that grin- like he already knew what I was thinking, like he was two steps ahead of me in a game I didn’t realize we were playing.

My heart skipped.

I knew that look.

It was the same one he gave me when he was up to something, when his mind was already dancing through trouble and temptation.

My breath caught just slightly. It was always like that with him- one look and the air between us changed. Charged. My chest tightened with that familiar blend of anticipation and curiosity, the sense that something was about to happen, and I didn’t want to stop it.

“Wanna see a movie?” he asked, his voice low, dipped in mischief, like the question was just a suggestion for something much more.

His dark hair framed his face perfectly, a few messy strands hanging just above his lashes. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his jeans, and the tattoos trailing down his forearm peeked out from under the edge of his sleeve like whispers of the wild things he wasn’t saying yet.

He looked so effortlessly good it was unfair. Every part of him radiated that cool, unbothered energy that made it impossible to look away.

“Sure,” I replied, tilting my head, playing along, even though I knew full well this wasn’t really about the movie.

His smile deepened, and without hesitation, Jungkook reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. The touch was soft but electric, like static.

The way he held me made the rest of the world fall into a blur. He tugged me toward the ticket counter, his grip steady, and bought two tickets for the next showing, something random and forgettable, but neither of us cared what it was.

We had five minutes to spare. Enough time to make it.

At the concession stand, he ordered a large popcorn and a soda to share, his tone teasing when he asked if I’d be “stealing all the good pieces.”

As he handed me the drink, his fingers brushed mine just a second too long, and I felt it again- like everything around us had gone quiet, like we were standing in the eye of something unspoken.

The cashier gave us a knowing look, one of those amused glances people gave to couples who couldn’t keep their hands or eyes off each other. I ignored it. Jungkook didn’t. He smirked.

We made our way to the entrance, stepping into the darkened theater. The hush inside swallowed us whole. The only light came from the flickering screen that played pre-show ads and soft trailers, casting bluish shadows across the plush, empty rows. The air was cool, the kind of stillness that made everything feel suspended in time.

To my surprise, the place was completely empty.

Not a single soul in sight. Just us.

Jungkook paused for a second, letting his gaze sweep over the seats before turning back to me with that signature grin: lazy, confident, dangerous.

He tugged me gently up the steps and toward the very back row, his hand never letting go of mine. It was so quiet I could hear the soft thud of our sneakers against the carpeted steps.

“All ours,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against my ear, his voice lower than before.

A shiver ran down my spine.

The moment felt suspended. Thick with the weight of unspoken things. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet at all, because every second screamed with possibilities.

He sank down into the corner of the back row and gently pulled me down beside him, tucking me close into the crook of his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt, steady and close.

The movie hadn’t started yet.

The screen was still rolling through slow, boring trivia questions, but neither of us were watching. His thumb traced slow circles over the back of my hand. His knee brushed mine, warm and solid. Every small touch felt amplified in the dark, every glance stretched into something more.

It was quiet. Intimate. Ours.

Once the movie started, neither of us paid attention. Jungkook’s hands were already roaming, his lips brushing against my neck. His touch was deliberate, hungry, and I felt my body respond instantly. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, his lips whispering,

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” against my skin. I shivered, my pulse racing as his hands slid lower, his touch bold and unapologetic.

“Jungkook,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “someone might come in.”

He chuckled, low and rumbling, his breath hot against my ear. “Who’s gonna come in, baby? It’s just us. The whole theater is ours.” His words sent a thrill down my spine, and I leaned into him, my lips seeking his.

Our kiss was fierce, desperate, our tongues tangling as his hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer. His touch was everywhere. Cupping my breasts, squeezing my ass, his fingers tracing the hem of my skirt. I moaned softly into his mouth, my body aching for more.

Suddenly, he pulled away, his dark eyes burning with desire. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough and commanding.

My heart hammered in my chest, but I didn’t hesitate. I slid off the seat, my knees hitting the sticky floor, the scent of spilled soda and popcorn mingling in the air.

Jungkook’s eyes gleamed with approval as he undid his belt, his pants falling open to reveal his thick, throbbing cock. My mouth watered at the sight of him- veins pulsing, his length impressive and demanding. I licked my lips, my gaze locking with his.

Slowly, teasingly, I took him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the tip. I heard him groan, his hands tangling in my hair, his fingers gripping tightly.

“Faster, baby,” he urged, his voice tight with tension. “I need more.”

I obliged, taking him deeper, my lips sliding down his length. I bobbed my head, my tongue flicking against his sensitive skin, savoring the taste of him. But Jungkook was impatient, his need overwhelming.

With a growl, he grabbed my hair, guiding my head down forcefully. I gagged, my eyes watering, but I didn’t stop. He thrust into my mouth, fucking my throat with abandon. It was rough, primal, and I loved it. His hands tightened in my hair, his hips snapping forward as he took control.

“Gonna cum, baby,” he warned, his voice hoarse.

I moaned around his cock, my hands gripping his thighs, my nails digging into his skin. He exploded in my mouth, his seed hot and salty, and I swallowed, savoring the taste of him. But he wasn’t done. With a rough tug, he pulled me up, his eyes burning with desire.

“Sit on my dick,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

I straddled him, my dress bunched around my waist, the cool air of the theater brushing against my skin. He guided me down, his cock sliding into my wet heat, filling me completely. I gasped, my head falling back as he thrust upward, his hands gripping my hips.

“Ride me,” he growled, his voice demanding.

I began to move, my body rising and falling on his, the sound of our skin slapping together echoing in the empty theater. But Jungkook was impatient, his need too great. He took control, his hands guiding my movements, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more relentless.

“You’re too slow, baby,” he panted, his voice thick with desire. “I need this now.”

He pounded into me, his cock hitting my G-spot with every thrust. The pleasure was overwhelming, building to a crescendo. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body trembling on the edge.

“Jungkook!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the empty theater as I climaxed.

My walls clenched around him, milking his cock. He followed suit, his seed filling me once more, his grip on my hips tightening as he groaned my name.

We collapsed against each other, our hearts pounding, our breaths ragged. The movie played on, forgotten, as we came down from our high. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around me, his lips brushing against my forehead.

“Fuck, that was good,” he murmured, his voice satisfied.

I smiled, snuggling into his embrace, the scent of his cologne mingling with the theater’s stale air. “What… what was that about?” I asked, my voice shaky.

Jungkook chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. “Just a little something to tide us over until the next adventure.”

I laughed, my body still buzzing with satisfaction. The mall held so many secrets, so many possibilities. And with Jungkook by my side, I was ready to explore every single one.

As the credits rolled, we sat in comfortable silence, our bodies still entwined. The theater, once a place of entertainment, had become our playground, a witness to our passion.

What other secrets did this mall hold?

What other adventures awaited us?

I couldn’t wait to find out. With Jungkook, every moment was an exploration, every touch a discovery. And I was eager to see where this journey would take us next.

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♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

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Posted: 06/13/2025

[returnofeternity]

"you find yourself trying to hump the vibrator as jackie's face contorts into an annoyed frown, knowing that you're about to be dragged away and fucked dumb."

Part 2 where Jackie fuck R so loud the whole party could hear them (tongue, finger, strap)

jackie gives the girl a big, cocky smile before she seizes you by the collar of your shirt and drags you away, her hand gripping so tightly that you swear you heard it rip somewhere.

everyone's staring at you, some whooping and whistling, as jackie shoves past people and leads you to her room upstairs. it makes you embarrassed but so turned on, and the vibration between your legs makes you whine as your thighs rub against each other from how fast you're walking to keep up with jackie.

she shoves the door open and pushes you in first, and you watch with dark eyes as she slams it shut and locks it.

she's so hot when she's mad, you think.

you can't help but squeeze your thighs together as you stand and look at her, waiting for her to tell you what to do because she's in charge now. you squeeze them harder when she slowly walks up to you like she's a predator trying to trap its prey.

suddenly the vibrations stop, and you're left confused and dizzy. your hole squeezes around the vibrator so well, missing its pulses.

jackie pouts and tilts her head. "oh, poor baby." she looks at you, still rubbing your thighs together for relief, and scoffs. "you're so pathetic. did you really try to flirt with another girl just to get me to fuck you?"

she stops in front of you, staring hard.

"it worked, didn't it?" you mumble back, shrugging.

she huffs and pushes your shoulders back, causing you to fall onto the bed. you grin up at her as you scoot back and watch her crawl toward you, feeling your stomach swirl with excitement at how good she's going to fuck you.

jackie stops when she's in between your legs, and she looks you up and down. "take your clothes off."

without missing a beat, you do as you're told. you fling your shirt off and huff and puff as you fumble with unbuttoning your pants, and when you take a peek at jackie, she's looking unamused.

when you finally get them off, you feel so much lighter. and the cool air of her room hits your soaked panties so deliciously that you whine and snap your hips up.

"i want those off too." she says, gaze boring into the big wet spot on your panties.

you bite your lip as you hook your fingers under the fabric, whimpering quietly as the vibrator moves inside of you while you tug them down. jackie leans forward and watches closely, her fists clenching when she notices the rope of arousal clinging to your panties and the vibrator. she licks her lips subconsciously, thinking about grabbing them from you so she can taste you before she really digs in.

but then you're throwing them to the side and opening your legs for her, and she's much more occupied with other things.

;

thinking about her sucking your juices off the vibrator first. she doesnt even care that she moans so pathetically as she takes it out from you so easily because of how drenched you are, she just brings it to her face and sniffs it while looking you in the eyes. they flutter so cutely as she inhales you, and then she's shoving it in her mouth and deepthroating it as deep as possible to taste all of you. and for a second, you forget it's you who's supposed to be punished in a few minutes.

she gets a bit drunk on your taste. her eyes are so clouded over when she opens them again, and now you remember about your punishment because she's looking at you like she wants to eat you alive.

her pretty lips feel so amazing on your pussy as she dives in, and fuck, you love how messy she always is. always so eager and desperate to taste all of you that she's kind of just kissing and sucking every part of it, but it feels so good. her tongue swirls around your clit so tortuously slow, and she's so strong as she holds your hips down and keeps you still. it's not enough to have you screaming yet, and she's huffing as you clench your jaw to keep in your pathetic moans.

she wants to hear them!!

so she adds her long fingers to the mix. and she gets a little something out of you, more whines and gasps, but it's still not what she's looking for. but it's fine for now, especially because she's much more focused on getting you to take all three fingers while she laps at your clit.

honestly, you don't even mean to be that quiet. it's just that your brain feels so fuzzy and jackie's fucking you so dumb that you can only let out broken moans and grasp at her head.

and god, thinking about feeling her ring rubbing against your walls as she fingers you. she has a good time licking it clean while she makes you take out her strap so she can really fuck you now.

this is where she gets you to break. and honestly, it doesnt take you long to start letting out those loud moans she's been hoping for as her thick cock hits your sweet spot so perfectly over and over again. she's got such good strap game. and she loves it when you scratch her back all nice and bloody because she's making you feel so good.

you're so loud for her, and her ears twitch every time you let out an "oh, fuck, jackie. feels so fuckin' good." at the top of your lungs.

she's so proud knowing that the whole party can hear you, can hear you scream her name as she fucks you dumb.

she definitely makes you walk back out to the party (once she makes sure you're all right and cleaned up!!) just so she can show off her work for a little bit before telling everyone to get the fuck out.

[tangyneon]

inky, tawny, teddy!

Your tastes might be ridiculous... but Gojo's weakness for you?

Now, that's a whole new level of ridiculous.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader tags: teen!gojo; teen!reader; tooth-rotting fluff; humor; gojo and you have been engaged since childhood because of an agreement between his clan and yours; neither of you really knows what that means now; pining looks so cute on gojo; denial too looks good on him; vaguely unestablished relationship; vaguely long-distance relationship; word count—895. warnings: none. this is a sequel of sorts to 'lychee pops!', but please feel free to treat it as a stand-alone if you wanna!! notes: many people asked me to write more for these two, so here it is, my loves!! hope you'll enjoy reading this, babes!! ❤️❤️

It's 10:30 at night, and Gojo Satoru finds himself standing in front of a vending machine.

But not for a snack, nor for canned coffee, and certainly not for that disgusting hot corn soup Shoko loves to sip, as if it isn't some crime against humanity.

No—this is the kind of machine that feels like it should be in a forgotten corner of a forgotten festival. Or maybe in one of the small shops that sell foolish knickknacks—things people don't really need, but they buy anyway.

Lit up by a single neon light—flickering, at that—the machine hums. Gojo feels a chilly breeze rush through the alley, sending a shiver up his spine and lifting his hair a bit. The night smells of rain on asphalt, of exhaust and smoke, of city life and its restless hubbub.

All the while, the boy—who should technically be asleep in his dorm right now; who could be anywhere else in this large, loud city—stays standing before the vending machine. Staring at the capsules filled with cheap things, idiotic things, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and his mouth tugged down into a frown that is not quite a frown anymore.

This is stupid, he tells himself. Very, very stupid.

And yet, he stays right there.

He lets his eyes scan the chart of little plastic prizes—frogs, hearts, cats, stars—until something catches his eye.

A tiny teddy bear keychain.

White as snow, with round ears, stubby arms, and two black bead eyes that somehow seem to be staring right back at him.

Oh, wow, he thinks dryly.

Because the second he sees it, he thinks of you. His mind goes to the way you'd tilt your head, smiling softly because it'd remind you of the teddy bear you lost when you were a tiny kid. Even without you here, Gojo can already picture your fingers wiggling in that ridiculous little wave, a silent "I want it".

You would lose it over this thing.

The thought makes his lips twitch. Only a bit. Before he heaves a sigh as though he is being forced into something painful—even though no one is watching, and nobody is making him do it.

Nearly reluctantly, he digs a handful of coins from his pocket, then feeds them into the machine one by one—carefully listening to each sharp clink of metal—as if he is paying some kind of penance, eager for it to be over.

Soon enough, the coins are gone. And the capsule drops with a light, hollow, echoing thunk. He sighs again, then squats, pops it open and lifts the keychain by its thin gold chain.

It looks even stupider up close—this tiny white bear, dangling in the air, catching the glow of the neon light above.

Gojo stares at it for a moment.

Then—only because he feels the need to, for some reason—he mutters under his breath, "You better love this, dummy."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo wraps it up the next morning.

He's not any good at this kind of thing, though. But then again, it isn't like you are either, so he does not really care—not that the boy would have cared, were you good.

He simply scrounges up a bleak envelope, shoves the keychain inside with a bit of tissue he finds at the bottom of Geto's bag, then studies it. He grimaces, then adds a folded scrap of paper.

don't get weird about it. just saw it and thought of you. it's stupid—just like you.

Sealing it, he scrawls your name and the address of your clan's estate on the front in messy handwriting, then goes to drop it off in a nearby red post box before he can change his mind.

And then—well, Gojo heads to his classes and forgets about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Gojo does not actually forget about it.

He thinks about it, all day and all evening—until the moment he is sitting down with his dinner, and his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Half-eager, and half-ready to feign distraction and indifference, the boy flips it open—then pauses.

Your face fills his phone's screen—you and your bright grin, your shining eyes, and the tiny bear you're holding up beside you. As if it has made your entire day. As if it is already the most precious thing you own.

Gojo just stares at the photo.

For one beat. For two beats. Maybe for a whole minute—he is not sure, nor particularly bothered, truth be told.

His thumb hovers over the keys. He wonders if he should send back some smart remark. Or a joke.

Eventually, Gojo moves his thumb away, finding himself smiling—not his usual wide, mischievous ones, but something smaller. Maybe even realer. The kind of smile that sneaks up on the boy, softening his whole face without him meaning it to.

"Ridiculous," he mutters—but the word comes out unbearably fond, more a soft little laugh than a complaint.

He stares at the bear's dumb face for a second more. Then, shaking his head, he slides his phone back into his pocket, and leans back in his seat, eyes drifting to the inky sky outside the window.

Wondering already—already—what he can send you next.

Because if this is what it takes to see you smile so brightly from so many kilometres away, Gojo reckons he'll buy out the whole stupid vending machine next time.

© tangyneon 2025 || please don't plagiarise, translate or repost this || characters used here aren't mine || header is from pinterest || masterlist.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Is it worth it?

In my angsty Katsuki era im so sorry. (Part 2 now up)

You were the first person to ever make Katsuki feel seen. Usually when people looked at him they saw his flames, his anger, his impossibly stubborn demeanour, but you only saw determination, kindness, the raw power inside of him that demanded he save every single person he could, even if it meant killing himself in the process. He knew what you saw, how you felt about him, which only made doing this to you that much harder.

It was a stormy night when he came home, later than usual from patrols. His hero uniform drenched from the downpour, his hair sticking to his face as droplets dripped to the floor in steady, uniformed taps. He didn’t look at you, he couldnt. Usually when he came home, hed throw his gear off, find where you were in your apartment and drag you to the bedroom, fall into your arms so you could cuddle him to your chest, and let him briefly deflate as he relayed the shit storm that he had to deal with. But not tonight. You heard the door unlock, his usually stomping boots treading the hallway, reaching your arms out in an outstretched hug ready for him to pick you up, but he didn’t. Instead, he lingered in the doorway, looking directly at the floor as he sheepishly danced between coming in to greet you, or walking back out, unable to face the horrific conversation he was about to have with you. After a couple of seconds you opened your eyes and let your arms fall, as you span around to see where he was, only to find him looking like a small child gearing up to confess their latest crimes. You tilted your head as confusion smacked your face, he never looked guilty, never made himself look smaller, so something really wrong must’ve happened.

“You okay sweetheart? What’s wrong….” You tried to meet his gaze as he turned his head away, eyes still not daring to glance anywhere near your direction.

“Um, yeah….we need to talk.” His voice low, deep and embarrassed.

“Oh shit okay, come ‘ere, sit down. What’s happened?” You patted the side of the sofa next to you as you scooted over, making room for him to join you, he just stayed stood in the doorway, fiddling with his hand in his pocket.

“Look, this isn’t working anymore. I….i think I should leave.” He turned his back to you slightly, desperately trying to hide the pained look on his face as he spoke, eyes slightly filling with tears. Your jaw slacked open, eyes already burning as tears started to form. You tried to speak, tried to question him but your throat had suddenly become too dry to let any words come out, as you stared at the man youd given your life too claw his way out of it. A small ‘Kats’ managed to squeak its way out as you tried to stand up, tried to walk towards him slowly. He winced at the sound of your movements, stopping you in your tracks.

“Look, i dont love you anymore okay? Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I’ll get my shit and go okay….idiot.”

As he spoke the last word his voice cracked, tears starting to flood his eyelashes as he desperately tried to push them back. He left you in the front room as he walked to your bedroom, noises of him throwing things into a bag filled the stunned silence between you, sounds of him ripping himself from your life together echoed as you clung your hand to your chest and started hyperventilating. No, no he couldnt want to leave, he couldnt say he didn’t still love you, you had just had an amazing night together last night, how could he suddenly realise that all these years meant nothing?! You tried to run after him, tried to talk any form of sense into him, only to be met with his chest infront of you as you clambered into him. You looked up at him with tears staining your face, voice taut from trying not to sob loudly, your whole existence hanging in the wind. He didn’t look at you, it seemed as if he was a shell of a man as he stared at the wall behind you, almost looking completely through you.

“I…” He desperately wanted to tell you what was going on, what hed found out and why he had to leave you, he wanted to apologise to you and beg you not to hate him, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew this was the only way you would ever let him go, and it killed him inside, more than any villain ever could. “ I have to go. Get out of my way. I said fucking MOVE.” He flung his bag over his shoulder, pushing past you as he opened the front door, momentarily staring back at you and sighing before slamming the door behind him.

The whirlwind of torture smacked you in the face, one second you were planning your kids names together in the early hours of the morning, the next he had managed to set fire to your soul and leave you stranded in the ashes, with nothing but a single photo of you two together that hed left behind. You didnt know what to do, you wanted to scream, wanted to chase after him and demand an explanation, you wanted to curl up into a ball and wish your existence away, but all you could do was stand there, still staring at the front door, still wearing his oversized all might hoodie, still blissfully inlove with a man who clearly now wanted nothing to do with you. Your legs eventually gave way and you screamed into a puddle on the floor, clawing at your chest and demanding any answers from the universe, as if screaming why would give you any form of closure.

He stood with his back to the door, head pressed gently against it as he let himself cry, hearing your screams only made his heart break further. He knew he had to be brutal about it, he knew that if he didn’t youd wiggle the answers out of him and demand that you join him on the mission together. He knew it was too dangerous for you, knew that if any villains found a weakness they could exploit they would, and the last thing he wanted was to witness was them torturing you, probably not half as bad as he had just done to you now. He needed you to hate him, needed you to curse his name so there wasn’t even a slime chance youd follow after him. So he stared down at the engagement ring in his hands, one hed brought in the first week of you two dating, one that he was going to give to you next week on your birthday, one that held a promise of the future you two had planned together, and slowly turned to open the door again.

Your eyes immediately flicked to his, desperately praying he had made a mistake and was now granting you the decency to an explanation, only for him to stare down at you and chuck the ring into your hands.

“I don’t want this anymore, you might as well have it. Sell it for all i care. I don’t need any reminders of you weighing me down.”

He almost couldnt do it, almost couldnt bare to see you heart broken and flooded on the floor, but he knew that this last push really would be the only thing that would keep you from wanting to win him back. He slammed the door again behind him as he choked on his sobs down the hall way. He couldnt look back, couldnt dare spend another second near you because if he did, everything would come out, and putting you through that torment would’ve been for nothing. Instead, he clutched his bag to his side and walked to the agency, falling through the doors and letting his screams engulf the building. Not only was he about to go off on a mission he was certainly he wouldn’t return from, but hed broken the only person he’d ever truly loved in the process. He clung to the paperwork detailing his mission as his tears soaked the paper, burning the edged slightly as he cursed the hero world for forcing his hand to hurt you so badly. This was the first time since he was a kid that he truly questioned whether he wanted to be a hero anymore, wether all this pain and torment was worth it, and wether he was truly good enough to hold the title at all.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Let Me Learn to Love You

Note: No smut, just angst but with a happy ending.

His apartment is silent except for the hum of the city outside. I stand by the window, arms crossed, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You never care. Not really. You pretend but not very well.”

He’s lounging on the couch, one leg kicked up over the other, that infuriating smirk on his face. His eyes flick over me, amused, dismissive, like I’m some kind of joke that doesn’t deserve his full attention.

"Aw, don't be like that," he purrs, tilting his head. "You’re just being dramatic. It’s cute."

My fingers curl into fists. "Dramatic? You stood me up again last night. I waited for hours."

He sighs dramatically, waving a hand. "I got distracted. You know how it is."

"No, I don’t. Because I actually care about the people in my life."

He chuckles because not even my anger is worth his time. "You and your little emotions. So fragile."

This is it. The final straw.

"I’m done, I’m leaving. Goodbye."

His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers. "Oh, come on. You don’t mean that."

I grab my bag and head for the door. "Watch me."

He doesn’t bother to convince me to stay. The only thing that follows me out the door is the sound of his scornful laugh and his voice, deep and taunting. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”

—

I don’t come back. He waits a day, expecting to see my name lighting up on his phone screen. A week passes and he turns to the apartment door anytime he hears a sound outside, expecting to see me coming back to him. It irritates him, so he decides to take action.

He’s leaning against the wall outside my work building when I step outside one evening.

"Well, well. Look who it is." His eyes gleam as he pushes off the wall and saunters toward me. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

I turn sharply, ignoring him.

He’s in front of me in a flash, blocking my path. "Aw, don’t be like that, I thought you’d be over your little temper tantrum by now."

I glare. "Move."

"Or what?" He grins. "You’ll push me? Try it."

I sidestep, but he shifts with me.

"Did you get all your little feelings out?" he muses. "Ready to come back to me now?"

Red hot anger fills my chest.

"We are done, I’m never going back to you.”

His fingers catch my wrist, his grip tight, unyielding. "You know, I could just force you back."

I scoff. "Try it."

He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. "You think I won’t?"

I try and fail to shake his grip, meeting his gaze. "I think you don’t actually want me. You just hate losing. I’m not a game. And I’m not coming back."

His grip loosens, but his smirk didn’t fade. "We’ll see about that."

And just like that, he lets me go. I don’t hesitate before fleeing, glancing back once to see him watching me go, a self-satisfied smirk playing along his lips.

—

I wake up the next morning to a package on my doorstep. No note. No label. Just a small black box.

Cautiously, I open it.

Inside is a necklace, beautiful, shiny, expensive. My stomach twists and I jump when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from him.

Do you like it?

I don’t reply.

Another buzz.

It was expensive, so you better.

I block his number. I leave the necklace in the box. It’s a cruel joke that the first piece of jewelry he’d ever gifted me came after I left him.

The next morning, a new message appears, from a different phone number.

Rude. But I forgive you. <3

I block this one too.

—

Two days later, I’m coming home from work, drained and exhausted.

I push my apartment door open and he’s already there, lounging on my couch like he belongs there, legs stretched out, smirking as I stand frozen in the doorway.

"Miss me?" He drawls, grinning at me.

"Get out. Now." My voice is clipped.

He pretends to think about it. "Hmm. No." Then he pats the spot beside him on the couch. "Come on. Let’s talk."

I don’t move.

His grin fades, just slightly. "You’re making this difficult. I’ve been very generous in giving you time and space. Didn’t you like that necklace I got you?"

His eyes move to my bare neck and his gaze sharpens. “It’s not nice to snub other people’s generosity.”

"Shut the fuck up! I don’t want your gifts, it’s too late. Leave me alone!” I snap. "You never cared until I walked away. Now suddenly, you’re obsessed?"

"Obsessed?" He laughs, but there’s something darker in it now. "I just know what I want."

"And what’s that?" I want to scream with frustration.

In a flash, he’s in front of me, hands gripping my wrists, pushing me back against the wall. His breath ghosts over my lips as he murmurs,

"You. Begging to be mine again."

"I left you for a reason," I snarl.

"And I’m giving you a better one to come back," he says smoothly, stepping closer. His fingers brush my jaw, his grip tightening just enough to make me shiver. "You think you can just walk away from me? I don’t let go of what’s mine."

"You don’t own me," I yell.

His laugh is low, dangerous. "Don’t I?"

I shove him with all my strength but he doesn’t even falter.

My voice cracks at my next words, “Just leave me alone!”

His is filled with taunting scorn, “I would’ve thought you’d be overjoyed at all this attention I’m giving you. Isn’t this what you wanted? You acted out like a brat because I don’t give you enough?”

I shake my head, my gaze dropping as hot, desperate tears well up in my eyes. Because once upon a time, his words would’ve been correct. At one point, I was so desperate for his attention and affection, I would’ve done anything. But not anymore.

"Please just leave me alone." I whisper, my voice quiet as I try to hold back tears.

He laughs, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch mocking, possessive. "Or what? You’ll cry?"

Something inside me snaps.

I rear back, slapping his hand away. "Why do you keep doing this?! What fucking perverse pleasure do you get out of torturing me like this?!"

His smirk flickers, but he recovers. "Because you want me to chase you."

"No, I don’t!" My voice cracks, and to my horror and humiliation, I feel hot, furious tears spilling over my cheeks. "You broke me! You never cared! You never treated me like I mattered! You stood me up, you lied, you used me, and then you had the nerve to act like it was all some game!"

His amusement falters.

I shove him back.

For the first time, he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. He just… stares.

Watching my tears like they’re something impossible.

"...You’re crying," he murmurs, almost to himself.

I wipe furiously at my face. "Yeah, nice of you to notice." I spit the words out.

His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for something, then stop.

Something in his expression shifts.

For the first time, he looks… uncertain.

"…I didn’t realize," he says quietly.

"You never do." I turn away, trembling. "Just go."

The silence is overwhelming.

Then, his footsteps. The sound of my door opening and shutting.

He’s gone.

My body crumples onto the floor and I sob until I run out of tears.

What I don’t know is that he sits on the other side of my door, listening to me cry until I couldn’t anymore.

—

I didn’t expect to see him again.

But a week later, there he is, standing across the street from my workplace, hands shoved in his pockets, looking… different.

No smirk. No arrogance. None of the prideful swagger that usually accompanies him.

Instead, he hesitates before stepping closer, slowly, like he’s giving me space to leave.

"Hey."

I stare at him. "What do you want? Haven’t you hurt me enough?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted— just to talk. If you’ll let me."

I frowned, confusion on my face. "...Why?"

For the first time since I’d met him, he looked uncertain.

"Because I fucked up."

I stare at him.

He meet my eyes, voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it. "And I don’t know how to fix it. But… I want to try."

The words hang between us, heavy with something unfamiliar: sincerity.

I swallow. "That’s not an apology.”

"I know," he admits. "But I’m learning."

He’s quiet, as if he’s struggling to come up with the words. Then, barely above a whisper:

"Will you teach me?"

The words hit me hard. I hesitate.

Because, for once, he actually sounds like he means it.

And that’s the cruelest trick of all. I turn away from him, arms tight over my chest, hugging myself as if that would protect me.

"No." My voice sounds broken.

He flinches. He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t mock. Doesn’t push.

Instead, his jaw clenches, like he’s fighting every instinct in him to argue, to manipulate, to force me to do what he wants.

But he doesn’t.

"Okay," he says, voice low. "I’ll go."

And he does.

—

Days pass and I wake up one morning to another box on my doorstep.

This one has a note.

I’m sorry. You deserved better.

Inside, is a photobooth picture strip. It’s us, from when we’d first started dating. Four photos of us. I’m smiling in every single one and he wears his self-satisfied smirk painted across his features. The same one I’d come to loathe because it was never quite genuine.

I put the photo strip and note back into the box. My hands shake.

The next morning, I wake up to another item left on my doorstep.

It’s an iced matcha latte from my favorite cafe. Dropped off just moments before I opened the door because the ice is still frozen and the cup not yet sparkling with condensation. I leave it untouched when I go to work. It’s gone when I come home.

The next morning, there’s another drink. Strawberry matcha this time. I ignore it again.

Every day, there’s a new drink. Sometimes there’s a pastry accompanying it, other times it's a yogurt parfait. He doesn’t make any attempts beyond the morning drop offs. Friday morning, I open the door to a pistachio latte with oat milk and a berry tart. This time there’s a note.

Tell me to stop and I will.

I stare at his writing, my heart pounding, my resolve weakening. I slide the note into my purse and bend down, picking up the latte and the tart. For the first time, I take it with me to work and eat it.

When I come home, there’s a note taped to my door.

You always look beautiful and I’m sorry I never told you before.

Monday comes with a blueberry matcha and blueberry muffin.

Another note.

Don’t work so hard and please don’t skip lunch.

—

One night, after a particularly long day at work, one where I’d skipped lunch and dinner and am now too tired to cook, there’s a knock at my door.

He stands there holding a takeout bag from the place I love but never go to anymore. He holds it out to me without a word.

I finally snap. “Why are you doing this?”

"You… like their dumplings," he says slowly. “And I know you haven’t eaten all day.”

"That’s not the point!" My voice cracks. "You can’t just pretend to be different now! You don’t change! You don’t care!"

He flinches.

Then, quietly, his voice reaches my ears, "I’m trying."

"Why?!"

His hands tense around the takeout bag.

"Because I hurt you," he says, voice rough. "And I never want to do it again."

I stare at him in silence.

His fingers flex. "You were right. I treated you like a game. Like something I could just win." He pauses. "But you’re not. And I… I don’t know how to do this. But I’m learning."

I stare at him and reach out to grab the takeout bag. He doesn’t ask to stay and I don’t offer. The door slams shut between us as I blink furious tears away.

I walk into the kitchen and open the bag. He got me more than just dumplings. Noodles, fried rice, my favorite stir-fry.

I eat and cry myself to sleep afterwards.

—

I don’t see him again for a week. But every morning there’s a drink and a pastry. Every night, there’s takeout or dessert.

Until one night, I come home from work and it’s him at my doorstep.

My eyes meet his as I grip the strap of my purse tightly, my heart racing.

He stands there, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. He looks… nervous.

"I can't do this anymore," he says, voice rough.

My stomach drops. Here it is. The game. The trick. The part where he shows his true colors.

But then—

"I can't keep pretending like I don’t need you."

I freeze.

His hands clench at his sides. "I don’t know how to fix what I broke. But I’ll spend every second of my existence trying if you let me."

I search his face for the lie, the smirk, the catch.

There’s none.

Just pain. Just hope.

Just him.

I take a shaky breath.

And then, I unlock my door and walk into my apartment, leaving the door open for him.

"Come in."

He stands in the middle of my living room. He looks too big for the space, his posture stiff, unsure, a version of him I’ve never seen before, one I doubted even existed.

"...I’ve been researching," he says finally.

I blink. "Researching?"

"About love. About... how to love." His voice is quiet and uncharacteristically raw, "I didn’t understand it before."

I swallow hard. "And now?"

His eyes meet mine. They’re soft.

"Now I know I did it wrong."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

I look away before he can see me cry.

I sit with him on the couch, separated by a few feet of cushions and pillows. I tell him everything. And he listens.

Every time he hurt me. Every time I cried alone. Every time he made me feel small.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t defend himself. Just… takes it in.

When I finish, his voice is rough. "I don’t know how to be good for you. But I want to learn."

I hug myself. "Why?"

He looks at me like the answer is obvious. "Because I love you."

I don’t mean to fall apart but I do.

"I hate that I still love you," I whisper, voice cracking.

His hands hover as his body shifts, close, but not touching. Like he’s afraid to. "I know."

"I don’t want to give you another chance."

"I know."

"You’ll just hurt me again."

He exhales, slow. Then, carefully, so carefully, he reaches out. Brushes his thumb under my eye, catching a tear before it falls.

"Let me prove you wrong."

And for the first time… I let myself believe him.

I kiss him.

And when I pull back, his eyes are wide, breath uneven. I see something in his face I’d never seen before.

Fear.

Not of me.

Of losing me.

I press my forehead to his. "Please don’t make me regret this."

His hands curl around mine, tight, not to trap, but to hold.

"Never again."

Note: Not a fanfic writer but for some reason I was imagining Sukuna while writing this...

[theorphicangel]

heaven can wait | satoru gojo x reader | chap. 2

pair: guardian angel! gojo x fem! reader

description: the last thing you had expected was to come face to face with your very own guardian angel to which you had no idea that they existed.

now you have to deal with an annoying six foot-something angel who leaves nothing but feathers and chaos behind him. but as time passes you begin to learn more about him and he finds himself bending the rules just to be around you a little longer.

however there is one rule that guardian angels like him must always abide by.

they mustn't fall in love. ever.

tags: strangers to lovers, no curses au, modern au, satoru is annoying but you learn to love him, forbidden love, semi-slowburn, i think, eventual smut, fem! reader, angel! satoru, more tags to be added

art cred: @aidonotknow, original work is here, please check out their art!!!

taglist: @therealisttheillest @ohmygeto @bunheadusa @czarixoxo @lalalandincraz @descargueestoporgojosatoru @emochosoluvr @celear @thoreeo @moxieisanalien @amberbalcom14 @13-09-01 @k-kkiana @tyyqqaaa @ehcilhc @entr4p3 @fushiguroooozzz @marajafarli @slutlight2ndver @twinkling-moonlillie @pickledsoda @satansthiccasscheeksreblogacc @worganmalker @rorel1a

let me know if you would like to be on the taglist!

chapter two: explanations

wc: 970-something

author's note: this is a little shorter and i was debating to add it to chapter one but whatever. enjoy.

playlist

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

You’re still choked up. 

Your palms are sweaty and clenched as you try to come to terms with the stranger sitting in your house. There’s a bag of takeout sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch that he’s sitting on. Or perhaps lazing should be the right word to describe this…person.

He’s spent the last twenty minutes explaining to you the entire brief history and concept of a guardian angel. It’s confusing but you're grateful for the theology and religion classes you picked for extra credit. He hasn’t explained the important things yet like who sent him to you or how long he’s here for but those are questions you’ll ask later if he ever stops talking.

“Therefore,” He drags on, “ I was the reason you didn’t lose your life out there.” He points behind him with his thumb and a cheeky smirk on his face. You don’t respond to him having decided to remain completely silent throughout his whole explanation. 

So. 

Guardian angels exist. 

This…man with giant angel wings is real. You’ve studied his face for the last few minutes but your mind still thinks that you’ve gone completely crazy. Maybe you woke up in the wrong universe today. Maybe you hit your head last night and haven’t realised that you’re living in a delusion. 

“It’s normal to be confused.” Satoru disrupts your thoughts, reading your expressions. “I know it may not make a whole lot of sense right now and you’re totally discombobulated but that’s completely okay, it takes some time to get used to it.”

He’s surprisingly gentle about it all. As if he’s explained this a million times before. And judging from the fact that angels are immortal he probably has. You wonder how many other people he’s looked after. How many people is he protecting right now? How long has he done this for? How does an angel become a guardian? 

There’s so many questions running through your mind at total speed and you can’t pick which one to ask first. 

You’re silent for a little while but your angel doesn’t mind this. He watches you try to comprehend your entire situation. 

“Satoru.” You test out his name on your lips. 

“That’s my name.” he grins. 

Your mouth opens. And then closes. The words you want to say out loud linger on your tongue, almost spilling out from your lips.

“I’m not sure how to say this but…”

“Go ahead.” he reassures, smiling to reveal a perfect set of pearly white teeth. What else would you expect from an angel from above? “There’s no such thing as a stupid question.”

“How do I stop this?”

“Stop what?” He tilts his head in curiosity. 

“Stop you from being assigned to me.”

Satoru’s smile drops. This is a question that he’s never been asked of before, never in his many years of being a guardian angel. There’s something in his heart that churns at your sentence and at the tone of which you asked it. Sure, you don’t have to have anything to do with him but asking to end the contract with him was something he hadn’t expected to hear.

“I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for any of this.” You explain in a rushed tone, “I don’t want someone watching me all the time and creeping me out and leaving fucking feathers everywhere in my home.” You rise from your seat. “I’m grateful to you for saving my life but I've survived perfectly well without a guardian before you arrived and I’m pretty sure that I’ll be just fine afterwards.”

At this point Satoru is confused. He’s never been in a situation like this, where you can’t even stand to look at him. Your tone isn’t asking but rather telling him to leave you alone. 

He looks down at his hands as he thinks, his wings swaying a little.  “I can leave but I can’t stop the contract put into place between us.”

“Well how does it stop?” you say impatiently. Your frustration is getting the best of you but you can’t help it, having a random creature in your house is enough to cause you to spiral after all you’ve gone through today. 

There’s a pause and within that pause Satoru’s face turns completely serious. This time he’s not afraid to meet your gaze and there’s something in his tone that bites. “How’d you think?”

Oh. 

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks and you flop back down into your seat. 

For him to end the contract you’d have to…die.

“Look, this is my first day and I don’t want anything crazy to happen, else there’ll be a lot of paperwork to deal with upstairs if you know what I mean. And there’ll be questions and I’ll be downgraded and–

“Downgraded?”

Satoru hums. “There’s a whole system to it but it wouldn’t make sense to explain it to you right now.” He lets out a sigh. He’s not giving up on you but he hasn’t had a human put him through the ropes like this in – well – forever.

“Nothing makes sense to me right now.” You retort. 

Satoru raises his hands, “Look, all I’m asking is for you to trust me.” His eyes meet yours and the shade like blue diamond engrosses you completely. If anything he seems genuine and wants to simply do his job which is to protect you. If you’ll allow him. 

“Can you do that for me?”

[bananasplit133]

Hiii I can request Tenna x employee reader who keep drawing him when he not looking and he discovers their sketchbook

HI ANON!!! :D

THIS IS PRETTY SHORT AND ALSO RUSHED BUT I HOPE ITS TO YOUR LIKING!

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'Ant' Tenna x Artist!Employee!Reader

The hum of the studio had finally quieted down for the evening, leaving only the soft flicker of screens and the distant buzz of machinery. You sat at your small desk tucked away in the corner of the employee lounge, the sketchbook balanced on your knees. For weeks now, you’d been sneaking moments here and there to sketch Mr. Tenna — his ever-shifting static screen, the sharp angles of his frame, the way his mechanical fingers flexed when he worked.

You loved capturing those little details. The way his head flickered between white noise and faint color streaks when he wasn’t paying attention. The way his movements could seem stiff and precise one moment, then almost human the next. It felt like the only way you could connect with him — without the showbiz spotlight, without the endless performance.

You flipped the page quietly, tracing your pencil over the outlines of his figure frozen mid-step, the glow of his screen-face carefully shaded. You barely noticed the door sliding open behind you.

A cool shadow loomed over your shoulder.

“Is that…me?” The voice was low, curious, with an edge of disbelief.

You jumped, closing the sketchbook hastily. But it was too late.

Mr. Tenna’s screen flickered, static flaring softly as he reached out with a slow, deliberate hand to take the book from your lap.

You swallowed hard, cheeks warming. “I—I didn’t mean for you to see it.”

He flipped the pages with surprising gentleness, his mechanical fingers careful not to smudge the graphite. Each drawing was a silent story: some were quick sketches, rough but honest; others painstaking, capturing tiny details like the way the light caught on his metallic wrist or the faint crackle of static around his screen.

He paused on a page where you’d drawn him standing with his head tilted slightly, the static on his screen flickering unevenly like a soft glitch. His mechanical fingers hovered over the paper, hesitant.

“You’ve been watching me,” he said quietly, voice low and just a bit shaky.

You blinked, cheeks heating up. “I guess… it just kind of happened. When you’re around, it’s hard not to notice the little things.”

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of machinery. His screen flickered erratically — a clear sign of his flustered state — and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

“Most people just stare, or ignore me,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not many actually… look.”

You shifted nervously, suddenly aware of how much you’d drawn him. “I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said quickly. “I just like sketching. And, well, you’re kind of... interesting.”

He looked down at the sketchbook again, his fingers tracing the page you’d stopped on — a simple sketch of his silhouette, the flickering screen softly glowing.

Then, unexpectedly, he cleared his throat, a little too loudly for the quiet room.

“Well, I… I wouldn’t be opposed to being your muse! Heh…” His screen flickered wildly for a second, then he abruptly coughed into his mechanical hand, a faint static burst cutting off the awkward laugh. “EHEM. I MEAN… IF THAT’S ACCEPTABLE.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession.

He shifted on his feet, the usual calm and collected demeanor nowhere to be found.

NOT THAT I’M SAYING I WANT TO BE DRAWN ALL THE TIME OR ANYTHING. JUST… IF YOU WANT TO.”“ His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “It’s… not unpleasant.”

You smiled softly, feeling your own cheeks warm.

“Thanks, Mr Tenna. I’d like that.”

He gave a slow nod, the static on his screen settling into a softer glow — his version of a shy smile.

For a moment, neither of you said anything more. The quiet between you felt different now. Lighter, maybe.

“JUST… TRY NOT TO CATCH ME OFF GUARD AGAIN.” he added, voice still a little breathless.

You laughed quietly. “No promises.”

[wthphe1n]

You belong to me

Pairing: Kwon Hyuk x fem!reader

Genre: Dark Obsession / Psychopath AU / Possessive / Murder / Angst / Smut / Toxic Romance

Rating: Explicit (18+)

TW: Extreme possessiveness, stalking, murder (off-screen), yandere behavior, toxic dynamics, gaslighting, attempted escape, forceful intimacy, non-con/dub-con implications, unhealthy obsession, reader in fear, trauma, psychological control, blood mention, explicit content, manipulation

Word count: ↔️

A/N: If yall reading this fic, do yourself a favor and play that song while reading — trust me, it hits way harder with the soundtrack on. This is a fictional psychological horror/obsession fanfic written for entertainment only. Please do not romanticize this behavior in real life

Summary: You ran. You thought you were free. But people like Kwon Hyuk don’t let go. Not when you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And when someone else touches what’s his — he removes them. One by one.

( @shintaru @dzvelinaskebiyars @sylith @zyart-jpg )

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You were free for 52 days.

You counted every single one.

Each sunrise was a whisper of hope. Every night alone was a breath you didn’t think you’d get to take. You burned your old photos. Changed your name. Moved to a city where no one knew your face.

But all that planning didn’t matter.

Because monsters don’t knock when they return.

They break the lock and walk in like they never left.

“You moved without telling me, sweetheart,” Hyuk’s voice is warm. Too warm. Like a knife left in the sun.

You freeze.

He’s standing in your doorway — soaked in rain, black hoodie clinging to his frame, his jaw tight. Hands red. You don’t know if it’s blood or mud.

You don’t want to know.

“I didn’t think you’d forget me so easily,” he says.

Your voice is hoarse. “Hyuk— How did you—”

“Find you?” His lips twitch into something like a smile. “Y/N, I never stopped watching you.”

He steps inside.

You step back.

Your body moves before your brain does — reaching for your phone on the counter — but he’s faster. He always was.

The phone clatters to the ground.

His sneaker crushes it without blinking.

“You were with him.”

You freeze.

“What…?”

“That guy,” Hyuk says quietly, “from your work. Tall. Wore cologne like he wanted to be fucked.”

“No—! Hyuk, I swear—”

“You smiled at him.”

“I smile at everyone—”

His hand slams into the wall beside your head.

You gasp.

“I saw him touch your arm,” he hisses. “Did he think I wouldn’t notice?”

You feel sick.

“What did you do to him?” you whisper.

Hyuk tilts his head. “Don’t ask me things you don’t want to know.”

You remember the first time you met him.

He was charming. Brilliant. Always one step ahead. You were just another girl who thought she was smart enough to handle him.

You were wrong.

Because Hyuk didn’t just love.

He consumed.

He studied everything about you — what songs made you cry, what foods made you sick, which friends you trusted, and which ones you shouldn’t.

And then he cut you off from all of them.

Little by little.

Until he was all you had left.

You bolt for the door.

He catches you in two steps.

“DON’T—!” you scream, thrashing, nails digging into his arm. “Let go—!”

“Why do you make me do this..” Hyuk whispered, yanking you back. “Why do you run from me like I’m the villain…?”

He pins you to the wall. His breath is shaking. His hands tremble with rage — or maybe love. With him, they’re the same.

“I love you,” he growls.

“This isn’t love,” you spit.

“Then what is it?” he snarls. “Because I killed for you.”

You freeze.

Your stomach turns.

He leans in close — so close you can feel his heartbeat.

“He’s not going to smile at you again,” Hyuk whispers. “He’s not going to touch you again. No one will.”

His lips brush your temple.

“Because you’re mine.”

You don’t fight when he pushes you down on the bed.

You don’t scream.

You learned by now.

With Hyuk, resistance only makes him rougher.

His touch is hot and possessive, fingers dragging across your skin like he’s branding you — a reminder you belong to him.

“You thought you could leave me,” he murmurs against your neck. “But I’m not someone you leave.”

His hand wraps around your throat — not tight. Not yet. Just enough to make you feel it.

“I’ll remind you,” he whispers, sliding between your legs. “Exactly who you belong to.”

The worst part?

Somewhere, some sick part of you, still remembers what it felt like — when it was good. When it was love.

But that part of him is long gone.

Now, there’s only obsession.

And you’re the object of it.

[A Few Days Later — After the Escape Attempt]

You thought the second time would be different.

This time, you didn’t wait.

You ran barefoot.

No bag. No phone. Just your heartbeat and the scream in your throat.

You found shelter at Taejung’s apartment — the only friend left who wasn’t already chased away by Hyuk’s silent threats.

Taejung opened the door, wide-eyed, shocked to see you shaking on his doorstep at 2 a.m.

He didn’t ask much. Just gave you a blanket, water, and a place to hide.

You didn’t sleep.

Because you knew.

It was only a matter of time.

It took Hyuk less than 7 hours.

Taejung didn’t answer his phone. Didn’t show up to work.

The silence was louder than a scream.

And then—

Your phone vibrated.

Blocked number.

One message. “If you don’t come back by sunset, I’ll send you a picture. Of what’s left of him.”

You threw up in the sink.

You were shaking as you knocked on the door of your own prison again.

Hyuk opened it slowly.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t speak.

Just stepped aside to let you walk in.

You couldn’t stop the tears.

He closed the door behind you. Locked it.

One. Two. Three deadbolts.

Then turned.

Calm.

Dangerously calm.

“You made me do that,” he said quietly.

You flinched.

“I gave you everything,” he continued. “And you still ran to another man.”

He didn’t let you out after that.

The door was locked from the outside.

Bars were installed on the windows.

He unplugged the Wi-Fi. Took your phone. Your clothes. Your shoes.

You were a bird in a gilded cage — surrounded by silk, but still trapped.

He fed you. Washed your hair. Kissed your forehead.

And each night, he curled beside you in bed like a husband in love.

“You won’t leave me again,” he whispered one night, voice a soft breath against your skin.

You said nothing.

You stopped fighting.

But inside — you were planning.

And when he finally forgot to lock the window in the bathroom..

You ran again.

But this time…

He didn’t follow you right away.

He let you go.

And when you thought it was over — He sent you pictures.

Taejung.

Tied to a chair.

Beaten.

Alive — but barely. “Your choice,” the message said.

“Come home, or I finish it.”

You came back.

And you let him chain your wrist to the bed that night.

Because fear is a better leash than love ever was.

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A/N: ye so ive been sitting on this fic in my drafts for ages lol. And duh, the biggest inspo came straight from my fave track — Odetari ft. 9lives. This song is the vibe, fr. It screams Hyuk energy all the way🛐 Ok i gotta confess… at first i lowkey tried to run from that ending 😭 it felt like a decent closure already, right? BUT— i still wanted to see more of him trying yk?? like… im weak for that mayb i just crave love shown in his way… whatever that is💔 Anyway, it took a lot outta me to write something this long (long for me at least T–T) ill probs drop more hcs tmr since i got a bunch stored up. Tysm if u read all the way here

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[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

Right There All Along Pairing - Ridoc Gamlyn x Reader Summary - You're enjoying listening to your friends have some fun by the river when Ridoc decides you're too far away from him. Word Count - 900+ Warnings - None! Pure Fluff.

In the background, you could hear the sound of your friends having a blast. Rambunctious laughter, clinking bottles, Sawyer, who had a surprisingly decent singing voice, and all perfectly slaughtered on alcohol. 

Not you though. After everything that had happened in your childhood, it wasn’t your thing. Still, you wanted to be close to them, to him, so instead you found yourself here, by the riverbank, watching the moon ripple across the surface of the water. 

Until someone plopped down beside you. 

“Hey.” 

You didn’t need to look. Your body always seemed to know when it was Ridoc. He somehow managed to make you relax and tense at the same time. Like your muscles sighed in relief knowing he was here, while your skin sparked with the hope that he might touch you. 

When he did, his shoulder brushing against yours, you turned to look at him. “Hi.” You said, trying not to grin too much. 

Ridoc looked like someone who had lost a mild fight with gravity. His wavy hair was sticking up in multiple directions, like he’d been raking his hands through it, and his shirt was half untucked. His eyes though, bright, mischievous, and a little glassy, were locked on you. 

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, and you had to bite back a giggle as he leaned over to put his head on your shoulder. “I missed you.” 

Your breath caught, just for a second. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, no idea what those words did to your heart. “I was like ten feet away, Rid.” You said, but your body betrayed you, curling even closer to his side like it had missed him too. 

“That’s eleven feet too far.” He mumbled.

 Your heart absolutely melted. 

Honestly, you agreed. If you could, you’d be plastered to this man’s side every moment of the day, but you didn’t want him to think you were clingy. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, with the most stupid, giddy smile on your face. 

“It’s pronounced Ridoc actually,” He said, moving away from your shoulder so he could give you a mock-scolding look, “and as my girl, you should know that.” 

Your whole body went still. 

My girl. 

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly. He’d never called you his girl before. Not like that. 

“Your girl?” You repeated, your heart starting to race. 

Ridoc paused, the grin slipping as he seemed to register what he said. His ears turned a little pink. “Well I mean there’s probably a better word for it . . . You’re more than my best friend. I feel like you’re just . . . mine.” 

His words shouldn’t have made sense, but somehow they did. They made all the sense in the world. Ridoc was way more than a best friend to you. He'd taught you how to breathe again. He'd taught you how to laugh even when the world felt impossible. He’d made you believe in yourself more than you ever thought possible. He was the bright sun coaxing you out of your darkness. In such a short time, he’d become everything to you. 

However, you couldn’t help but wonder how he felt. Did he see you the way you saw him, or were you another light in a constellation of people who loved him? “Are you mine?” You voice barely a whisper, coated in hope and insecurity. 

He said your name, smiling that crooked, heart wrenching smile as he reached up to brush a stray hair from your face. “I’ve been yours since the parapet. I’ve just been waiting for you to play catch up.” 

That long? He couldn’t have . . . But there was nothing in his eyes but sincerity (and a little bit of alcohol). “Ridoc,” you whispered his name, and all of the sudden, he was right there. So close that if you tilted your head your lips would brush. 

“I want to kiss you. And not because I’m drunk-” Ridoc said before you could say anything. “I want to kiss you because I’ve been dying too for months. Every time you look at me like that, like I’m worth something, it makes me want to lose my damn mind.” 

Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach. Butterflies flooded your chest as he looked down at your lips, and then back at your eyes. The heady scent of him, a warm breeze on a summer afternoon, orange and cyprus, flooded your senses, and your hands, seeming to have a mind of their own, found their way to the sides of his jacket, fisting the fabric like it was the only thing grounding you. “You can.” You whispered, breathless. “I want you too.” 

His nose bumped yours, soft and tentative, and your breath caught as your eyes fluttered shut - 

WHOOSH. 

Then there was a gust of wind, the beat of wings, and a cascade of cold water rained down on you both. 

“You dick!” Ridoc shouted, jerking to his feet. You jumped up to, grabbing his waist to steady him when he swayed. 

Above, Aotrom flew off with a delighted chortle. 

Ridoc jabbed a finger in the air after him. “I’m going to get you for this!”  

You started laughing, soaked and breathless, your heart still racing from the almost. “You do realize you two are the same person, right?” 

“I would never interrupt him when he was about to start making out with his dream girl!” Ridoc yelled after him, still glaring. 

This man was going to give you a complex if he didn’t stop with the compliments. “Oh we were about to start making out?” You teased, ignoring the second part of his statement. 

“We were.” Ridoc said, without missing a beat. “But hey, this just builds anticipation for the next time.” 

The smirk he gave you should have been illegal. 

You bit your lip, already imagining when the next time would be and praying to Dunne nothing would stop it.