#Okay this is really scattered sorry but you know what I mean yeah?
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evilvarric666-archive · 2 years ago
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guy standing in the corner at a party meme They don't know about TOS Kirk's fucked up traumatic backstory
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luveline · 6 months ago
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omg would die for a concussion fic with remus <33
—your concussion causes moderate memory loss, and you forget some very important details about your relationship with Remus. fem, 1.3k
“This is nice.” 
You toy with the ring on Remus’ finger, turning it around and around and around. With your weight bearing down on his right arm and your hand secured around his left to stop him from moving, there isn’t much he can do besides say, “Yeah?” 
“I love when guys wear rings.” 
“I had a suspicion.” 
You wince as stars flash through your vision, pausing in your toying to press your face into his chest. 
“You okay?” he asks. 
“I can see black and white spots.” 
“Oh, no,” he says sympathetically. “Close them, dovey. Take a breather.” 
The chair under you is uncomfortable, your back aches, your head twinges, but Remus is comfortable to lean again. He’s wearing one of his big hoodies, old enough to feel like brushed cotton under your cheek and against your nose, decals washed away. He steals his hand back to pat your shoulder, an image of patience. 
“Sorry. This isn’t a good second date.” 
Remus leans down to talk near your ear. “Dove,” he whispers, “this isn’t our second date, remember?” 
“It’s not?” 
“No, sweetheart. But that’s okay.” 
“You’re really handsome so I don’t want to mess it up.” 
“Mess what up, the date?” he asks. “You didn’t mess it up, it went very well. It was a year ago, but.” He smiles, his breath warming your face, his arm hot around you and securing you to his chest.
“A year ago?” 
“Yeah, a year ago. We went to winter wonderland and the bookshop by the train station and you wouldn’t let me buy you any books.” He laughs softly. “But I got you one eventually. A couple by now, at least.” 
“That’s nice.” 
“You’ve bought me a hundred more, it’s awful.” 
You raise your head to squint at him. “I have?”
“So many,” he whispers, dipping his chin down to kiss your nose, to your wide-eyed delight. “But you let me look after you in other ways.” 
“Let you?” 
“Yes, let me. It’s part of…” He cups your cheek quickly. “Sickness and health and everything. I have to keep you happy.” 
“Ah.” His ring is warm on your cheek. “Sickness and health, like we’re married.” 
“Something like that.” 
You straighten up as someone behind you coughs aggressively. A little further down a baby cries against a mother’s chest, and the TV plays a quiz show you’re starting to hate. Moving your head has black haunting the sides of your vision again, the light seeping in from the automatic doors too much to handle. 
“I’ve asked Sirius to bring you some sunglasses.” 
You turn around. “Sirius, that’s the one with the motorbike?” 
“Yeah. He should be quick. But maybe they’ll have called you in again by then and we can go home.” 
That’s right. You’ve been seen once by a doctor for triage, and sent back out again when they deemed you only mildly concussed, no bleeding on the brain, but an X-ray ordered for safety's sake anyways. That’s what you’re waiting for. Remus is waiting with you, because he’s a very nice man. 
“Sorry if I’m ruining your Saturday.” 
Remus’ hair falls from behind his ear as he lifts his head properly. “I think you might be having a worse day than me, so I’ll forgive you. I'm joking!” He tucks that stray strand behind his ear unsuccessfully. “You could never ruin my Saturday. I’d spend the entire bank holiday weekend in here with you, I only want them to look after you so I can finish the job.” 
Heat like a kiss on each cheek. You bring your hand to your nose, overwhelmed. “Really?” 
“We spend a lot of time together, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember right now, but I love you.” 
“You do?” 
“Don’t tell me you can’t feel that.” 
You look at him with the sunshine caressing the side of his face, his three mean scars and his scattered beauty spots. He has thick eyebrows, light brown eyes in the sun like honeyed tea, and a playful smile. More frown lines than smile lines, but the beginnings of crows feet speaks to some joy, at least. You bring your thumb up to a small wrinkle and stroke it, before tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay put for long. 
“I love you,” you say surely. You do, even if you can’t remember more than your first date. 
He’s a good kisser, you remember. He’d pulled you back from your door and kissed you like you’d stolen the breath straight from his lungs. 
“I know.” He brings your hand from his ear to kiss. Gentle, he strokes your knuckles, his thumb turning a golden ring where it sits on your marriage finger. 
“It’s really like we’re married, we have matching rings,” you laugh. 
He holds his hand up between you. “We are married, lovely girl.” 
You steal your hand back. He waits without hurry, though a line of concern marks his brow. “Are we? When did we get married?” 
“Only a few days ago, but we’re married. This wasn’t on the honeymoon agenda.” 
He takes your hand with care and shows you the gold ring on your marriage finger to match his own, aligning your hands. The colour hadn’t seemed important a moment ago, nor the placement, but now you’re seeing them you realise you’d made a small misjudgement. It’s not like you’re married at all, you simply are. 
You frown. The way he’s holding your hand feels familiar, though the idea that you’re married is preposterous. You can’t remember any ceremony or reception, a proposal, nothing. There’s simply blank space there, which isn’t very nice. But… 
You’re not scared. You haven’t been worried once all day. 
“You have a concussion,” he says quietly, practised, like he’s said it to you before. “And it’s resulted in some amnesia, but it’s going to get better very soon.” 
“We’re definitely married?” 
“Unless you’ve changed your mind.” 
“I don’t want to change my mind.” You fluster quickly with what you’ve said, looking down at the hospital’s linoleum flooring. 
Remus takes your hand where it lays on your thigh and squeezes it. A thread of memory tugs at the touch; you remember this. His tender concern. His constant support. 
“Then you don’t have to. Whether you remember me or not, I’m here to look after you, okay? I’m right here.” 
You nod without looking up. His hand knows yours no matter what you remember, rubbing at all the best parts, holding with the perfect amount of pressure. 
“You okay?” 
“I guess our second date really did go well.” 
“Better than I could ever explain.” He tugs at your hand until you look at him, his head already ducked to keep you pinned by his gaze. “You’re like my shy girl all over again. I forgot how nervous you used to get.” 
You can see the Remus who became your husband and the one who scared butterflies into action every time he looked at you coalescing. “You’re really good-looking,” you explain. 
“And what do you think you are?” He rubs your hand. “You’re beautiful. Can I have a kiss, dove? Is that okay?” 
You squeeze your eyes closed. You’d been fighting stars in your eyes anyways.
When Remus kisses you, your body responds to his touch like it knows him. Your heart thuds against your ribs, your lips know exactly how to move and when he’s going to turn his head. Love for him shines through it. His love for you makes your chest hurt, his chaste kissing like a straight shot of oxytocin. All your worry saps away. 
“Feel any better?” he asks knowingly.
You remember enough about his teasing to withhold an answer. He kisses your cheek, his smile unmissable on your skin. 
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parkerluvsu · 2 months ago
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Boyfriend Art going to a boys night out and getting drunk and Patrick calling you to go get your boyfriend because he's been talking about you the whole time and talking about how much he is in love with you and all and when you go back home things lead to a hot makeout session while he's telling how much he's so lucky to be your boyfriend and how he is so obsessed with you
this is so cute omg.. i need bf art in my life so bad!!!
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all you wanted was a chill night in, no parties, no loud neighbors, and no hangovers. when art said that patrick invited him to a frat party on the other side of campus, sitting at the foot of your bed with puppy dog eyes, you couldn't say no. but, you made him promise not to come back too drunk or too late. art agreed, letting patrick drag him to the party around 10.
it was almost 1 now, and you were cuddled up in your blankets binge watching your favorite show when you felt your phone vibrate from under the mountain of fuzzy fabric. patricks caller id flashed on the screen as you accepted the call.
"patrick? what's up, are you guys okay?"
"hey um.. art got pretty wasted tonight.. he got a hold of some pink whitney and you know how he gets so.."
you sigh, shaking your head, before you hear some rustling on the other end of the line.
"'s this her?" you hear a little hiccup from the voice you now recognize as arts. "'m sorry baby i didn't know it was g'nna get m' drunk.." another hiccup "feels like the room is spinning.." another rustle.
"yeah well.. you heard him.. can you come pick him up? ill send you our location"
you agree to drive over, pulling on one of arts old hoodies and driving over as quick as you can. pulling up at the frat house, you see a scattering of red solo cups on the lawn, along with some beer cans. you wait in your car for a minute before you see patrick helping art down the front steps, and you open your door when patrick helps strap art in. patrick pokes his head through the window, "again, sorry about this, he just kept asking for you.." patrick sighs, looking at art, whose gaze is fixed only on you. arts watery blue eyes look at you like you've hung the stars themselves, and it isn't even only because he's drunk, he looks at you that way always.
the drive home is quiet, with arts occasional hiccups disrupting the silence. art leans over when you're at a stoplight, the red lights illuminating his face, "'m really sorry.. i didn't wan' you to be angry at me" he says, pouting at you as you continue the drive home. you shake your head, "im not mad at you art, i just always want you to be safe okay? i don't want to have to worry about you so much.." art hangs his head and nods, falling quiet again.
by the time you arrive at your dorm, arts still hiccuping, stumbling over his own feet as you usher him into your room, not keen of waking anyone up at the early hour of the morning. art flops onto your bed, his head bouncing on your pillow, the movement causing a groan to erupt from his lips.
you root around in your drawers, trying to find an old pair of his boxers and a shirt. suddenly, you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, a head presses against your neck and you feel a sigh of warm air against you. "art.. go sit on the bed" you sigh, pulling some clothes out for him. art presses wet kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your skin. "'m sorry.. please f'give me.. didn't mean to make you angry" he whines, squeezing your waist. you shake you head, turning around in his arms, "im not angry art.. please go sit down so you can change.." you sigh, breaking away from his arms and leading him to the bed. art sits on the edge of the bed, his alcohol-muddled brain causing him to stare off into space. you tap art's arms, silently asking him to raise them, pulling his stained shirt off of his body with ease.
you can't deny it.. any anger that was in your body when you drove art home is gone now, seeing his slightly messy hair and pale skin glowing in the moonlight only makes you want to take care of him more. once his shirt is off you hand him an older t-shirt he left at your place, watching him put it on before handing him some pajama pants. you get art situated in bed, walking to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water and walking back.
art looks up at you blearily, tucked into the corner of your bed and where it meets the wall. you slide into bed next to him, feeling his body slump into yours once again, his face smushed into your shoulder. his hiccups have gone now, just soft breaths against your skin. it's completely silent, until art takes a sharp breath in. "i- i don' think patrick told you but everyone at the party was so annoyed with me.. couldn't stop talking about you.." that catches your attention, making your heart thump in your chest. "i swear patrick wanted to kill me, i know he's just jealous though.." you can't help but fall for the bait, "whys he jealous?" you ask. art presses closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, "cuz you're perfect.. 'n sweet 'n amazing.." he presses a small peck on your lips for each word, a tipsy smile emerging on his face. his smile is infectious, and you can't help but kiss him back, smiling against his lips, "is that so?" you add. he huffs against you, letting you take the lead against his clumsy lips. you can still taste the sweet liquor on his lips, almost making you feel intoxicated yourself. art leans into you more, placing his hands on your knees and moving further. "'s true.. 'm fuckin' obsessed with you.." he groans out, now growing more confident in his movements.
you let the kiss grow more heated until you feel arts hands starting to creep under your shirt, and you pull away slowly, letting a string of drool connect you. art blinks at you, confused. "why'd you stop?" he practically pouts. "you're drunk art, you know i love you but you gotta sleep this off" you say, sweeping a thumb on his cheek. as if on cue, art yawns, only proving your point. he slumps into bed, pulling up a blanket from the foot of your bed. "fine.. but we continue this tomorrow, yeah?" he asks, one last request before falling asleep. "sure, sure art" you reply, running your fingers through his soft blond hair. you're sure art won't remember all of this in the morning, but you sure as hell won't let him forget it <3
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lvndrfucks · 8 months ago
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don’t leave me hanging omg, write the concept. miguel brain rot is on 24/7 — 🧠
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You were surprised none of Miguel’s neighbors had complained yet. There were teenagers scattered all around the inside of Johnny’s apartment and the outside, loud music blasting and a fair share of drinks being passed around. At least everyone was getting along after the long overdue karate feud.
You were nursing a red solo cup while standing in the corner of the room, taking small sips. The taste of alcohol didn’t really appeal to you. Your friends engaged in chatter that you chimed in once in awhile, but you were a bit distracted.
“Are you going to talk to him or keep eye-fucking?”
“What?” Your eyes moved away from Miguel’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You guys have been staring at each other all night,” your friend pointed out. “He’s single, you’re single.” She made gestures with her hands for emphasis.
You shook your head while looking down to hide how red your face had gotten. “He doesn’t like me like that. We’re friends.”
“Lame,” your other friend bursted. “Go talk to him! Congratulate him on winning karate again or something.”
You rolled your eyes while taking a drink to avoid the conversation.
Her friend smirked suddenly with an idea. “Hey, can I borrow your jacket? I’m a little cold.”
You were feeling hot from the crowded room, so you were a little confused on how she was the opposite, but you did so nevertheless. You removed the cropped denim jacket to expose more of the little black dress you had on. You smiled while handing it to her.
Miguel felt his mouth go dry. His eyes scanned up and down your body from afar, the silk perfectly hugging your body and exposing valleys of skin he had never seen before.
A pat on his shoulder made him jump as he was forced to look away.
“Hey, man,” Hawk greeted. He noticed you and looked back at Miguel with a smirk. “You gonna make a move tonight, or what?”
Miguel chuckled nervously and shook his head. “I don’t think she likes me like that. I mean, we’ve been friends since we were both in Cobra Kai. Isn’t that a bit weird?”
Hawk scoffed. “No. That just builds up more chemistry. And pent up frustration.” Miguel looked at him curiously as he clarified. “Sexual frustration.”
“Dude.”
“It’s true! Remember that time you went out with Sam and she nearly broke some kid’s arm. Or when she got asked out and you broke the practice dummy.”
Even though Hawk’s statements were technically true, Miguel still had his doubts. What would a girl like you want with a guy like him?
“You just gotta go for it, man. Before someone else does,” Hawk advised and motioned his head towards Chris and Mitch who had started talking to you. You immediately started smiling and laughing at what they were saying.
Miguel held back a glare as he handed his cup to Hawk. He cheered, “That’s my boy!”
Your laughter died down as Miguel approached the three of you. You smiled at him in greeting that he returned before looking at Chris and Mitch.
“Robby wants you guys to refill the cooler outside,” he told them.
“But I just did five minutes ago,” Mitch said.
“Well, he wants you to do it. Again.”
Miguel was grateful Chris was the smarter one between the two as he was beginning to catch on.
“Yeah, it’s no problem.” There was almost a smug smile on Chris’ face. “Come on, man.” He began dragging Mitch away, the boy complaining that he already did once again.
That just left you and Miguel.
You glanced behind you to see your friends had ran off somewhere, of course. There was a small beat of silence between you two.
“How are you?”
“This is a great party.”
You two spoke at the same time. You both laughed.
“Sorry. You go first,” Miguel insisted.
“I said this is a great party,” you repeated. “I’m surprised your mom was okay with it.”
“Well, Johnny told her that it was just Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang ‘hanging out.’”
When you were about to respond, someone knocked into you. As you tripped forward slightly, Miguel had his arms out to catch you. You sheepishly apologized while standing straight.
“Um, did you wanna go somewhere less crowded,” he proposed.
You nodded and started following him out. People from school were still showing up and it seemed the outside was becoming just as packed. You maneuvered around while still trying to keep up with Miguel. He turned to face you and offered his hand out so you wouldn’t lose each other. You took it, trying to hide your growing smile.
He guided you across towards his apartment. He opened the door and let you inside first. You were still able to hear the music and chatter of people, but it reduced slightly. Plus, you guys were completely alone now.
“Sorry. I thought it would be better here to talk and stuff. Unless you wanted to go back to the party. I’m fine with either, I just assumed—“
“It’s fine, Miguel,” you cut him off with a light chuckle. “It was getting a little overwhelming out there.” You set your empty cup on the dining table and moved to lean on the edge of the couch.
“C-can I tell you something,” he asked, standing in front of you.
“You can tell me anything.”
Your smile made him weak in the knees. His hands suddenly felt clammy as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“I…I really like you.”
“I like you too.”
Miguel gulped. “No. I mean I like-like you. Like more than friends type of way.”
“Oh.”
Oh?
“If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. I get it. We’ve been friends for a long time and I understand not wanting to ruin that. It’s just that when I’m around you, I feel different. Different like you’re the one person in my life I’d hate to lose or I wouldn’t mind kissing. You know, that was probably a really weird thing to say. I’m sorry—“
“Miguel.” You laughed a bit. “It’s okay. I like-like you too.”
“Really,” he breathed out in disbelief.
You nodded. “And you’re the person I wouldn’t mind kissing either.”
Your hands reached forward to grasp his flannel and pull him closer towards you. The heels gave you an advantage to be nearly face to face with him. The close proximity made you both nervous, but someone had to make the first move.
Meeting halfway, Miguel’s lips pressed against yours in a savory kiss. His hands rested on his either side of your neck, his thumbs on the underside of your jaw and pulling you in even closer. You pulled away briefly, seeing his heart-shaped pupils and puffed lips parted. He pulled you back in with urgency.
There was only the heat of the moment, the electricity between you two, and the pure, unbridled passion of your kiss. It was a moment you would remember forever, a moment that would stay with you long after the kiss had ended.
The buzz of Miguel’s phone brought you back to Earth. He seemed to have no intention of stopping, though.
You pulled away, his lips immediately attaching to the side of your neck. “Do you wanna get that,” you asked, slightly breathless.
“Not really,” Miguel answered and kissed you again.
His phone eventually stopped until whoever was calling decided to call again. You laughed slightly at Miguel’s annoyance when he pulled away.
“It’s okay,” you reassured, one of your hands combing through his hair.
Miguel begrudgingly answered the phone with a haughty, “What?”
“Dude, where are you,” Hawk asked from the other line.
“I’m a little busy right now.” Miguel pinched your hip lightly in warning as you continued sucking on the skin of his neck.
“Well, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I need a beer pong partner.”
“Ask Robby.” Your hand began to trail down his body.
“I’m going against him, dumbass.”
He held back a groan when you squeezed his hard on over his jeans. “I gotta go.”
“But—“
Miguel hung up and tossed his phone on the couch. You yelped in surprise when he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist in response.
Once in his room, he had shut the door swiftly with his foot. Next thing you knew, you were lying back on the bed with Miguel hovering over you, leaving wet kisses and sucking on your exposed chest. One of your hands was threaded in his hair as the other tightly gripped the comforter. His hand slowly trailed up your thigh, giving a soft squeeze and earning a low moan from you.
Miguel pushed the bottom of your dress up to your stomach, exposing the black shorts underneath. He looked at you as you were panting already from the build up.
"You okay," he whispered.
"Of course."
He pecked your lips before going down on his knees at the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over your thighs, placing light kisses ever so often. Eventually, he hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off, leaving just your underwear.
Miguel was hesitant at first as he ran his thumb over the wet patch, but you moaned softly from above as you tried closing your legs if he wasn't in the way. He repeated the motion with more pressure, causing you to jolt. He enjoyed the reactions.
He gently guided your underwear over your hips and slid them out from under you. A soft gasp emitted as you felt Miguel slip his tongue between your lips. Your mind went blank as he licked, his tongue spreading over your clit in smooth strokes. His open mouth panted heavy, moist breaths over your cunt, absorbing every drop of essence as it pooled on his tongue.
Your fingers tugged on his hair, your back arching off the bed slightly. You could feel a growing sensation low in your stomach, your orgasm twisting and winding into a tight knot.
A sudden gasp fell from your lips as he slowly pushed a finger inside of you. You inhaled sharply, eyes rolling back as he pushed his pointer finger in knuckle by knuckle until he rubbed the tip of his finger against that tougher spot inside of you.
His finger slipped in and out a few times until he added a second. It made you choke, walls clamping down and tightening painfully, tears pricking your eyes in a mix of pain and pleasure. Miguel kept them still as he leaned forward to press soft kisses on your clit.
“You're doing so good, baby. I just need to relax, okay?"
You nodded, even though you were sure he couldn't see it. You exhaled loudly, gasping just as loud before groaning and bucking your hips unconsciously. He resumed pushing in and out, his fingers shined with arousal.
You could feel every inch of his fingers inside as his mouth continued to stay hot and slick against your cunt, letting his spit collect all around. Your eyes rolled back when your stomach began twisting, feeling as though something was on your chest. You whimpered, followed by a groan of his name as your body relaxed once the knot snapped, and your vision blurred.
Miguel lapped up the mess and licked his fingers clean, watching the way your chest rose and fell rapidly. You looked utterly fucked the way your hair was sprawled out and little breaths leaving your plump lips, your head tilted to the side and eyes still shut.
He moved beside you and kissed your temple, combing your hair back. “You still got one more left for me?”
With shining eyes, you looked up at him and nodded.
Miguel grinned as he started to remove his flannel and shirt. Your thighs rubbed together while staring at him undo his jeans. You shakily stood on your knees and shuffled closer to him.
He gave you a tender, slow kiss, but you weren’t ready for such gentleness at this point in time. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. A low groan released from his throat as his hands moved from your hips to the zipper of your dress. You pulled away to disregard the rest of your clothing before pulling Miguel onto the bed.
He sat back as you straddled him, lips moving together once more. Reaching between the two of you, you grabbed his leaking cock so you could set him up at your entrance. As you lowered yourself, you inhaled slowly through your nose since the preparation and care he had given you had made the stretch easy to endure. As a result, all you felt was the full sensation he had given you.
You performed an exploratory hip roll once you were seated completely. You let out a groan at the feeling, every little motion causing electricity to tingle through your body.
Miguel sat up, you two now chest to chest while he held you firmly. “Fuck, you feel fucking amazing.” He placed wet kisses along your chest.
The noises of the party drowned out his moans as you began to ride him in earnest. His hands settled on your hips, causing the soft flesh to crease as he started responding to your thrusts with his own. You could feel him moving deeper with every motion, until eventually you could almost feel him in your stomach.
“Miguel,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze.
“I’ve got you, amor.” His mouth attached to one of your breasts, making you whimper.
His actions left your limbs feeling like rubber while he proceeded to fuck into you harder. Your tongue grazed his flushed skin, your head tucked into his neck.
“Making me feel so good,” you told him gently in his ear. “Want you to finish in me. Want all of you.”
Your babbling was cut off by a higher pitched moan at Miguel’s hard thrusts, your words egging him on more.
“Think you can take it all, baby?” His forehead pressed against yours as you nodded with a pleading look. “I’ll give you everything. Again. Again. And again.” He punctuated with each thrust, your grip on his shoulders tightening. “You gonna cum? Can feel it.”
“Please.”
Your loud moans echoed throughout the room as your legs tightened around his, your body moving faster to keep you on your high. You could feel Miguel spilling out of you, the warm feeling comforting the both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist to cease your shudders as he placed light kisses upon your shoulder.
Miguel, though he didn’t want to, slowly removed himself from you, a small whimper slipping past your lips. He laid you down on his bed and told he’d be right back. When he returned, he had a damp washcloth in one hand and a water bottle in the other. He carefully cleaned you up, knowing your legs must be sore, and sat you up to take a few sips of water.
He smiled gently at you and kissed your forehead, making your face flush in admiration. He grabbed an extra t-shirt for you and changed into a pair of new boxers for himself. Once settled beside you, Miguel draped the comforter over both of your bodies.
You both stared at each other, a grin on your lips as you leaned forward for one last kiss in the night.
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hera speaks!
sorry for the long wait. i honestly get embarrassed writing smut, but this has been on my mind for a long time
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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 4 months ago
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When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity |Hyunjin
The evening was quiet in the shared apartment you and Hyunjin lived in. The air was filled with a gentle hum from the city outside and the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the walls. You were sprawled on the couch, your laptop open in front of you, surrounded by papers and notes. A mountain of work and a looming deadline had you feeling overwhelmed, and the pressure was building up inside you.
But you couldn't manage the stress and just sat there, letting it ruminate in your mind that you had these deadlines.
So while you were getting some work done, it was getting done really slowly, and you were utterly exhausted.
But all your life you had been told you were lazy; so work ethic had been engrained in you, and you felt like sometimes it was all you knew how to do.
The deadlines making you stressed, but the stress not allowing you to work on the things that were due. But your deep seeded insecurity making it so you pushed yourself to work even when you weren't in the mental state to do so.
Hyunjin entered the living room, fresh from a dance practice, his face flushed and his clothes slightly damp with sweat.
His dark hair was a little bit stringy with perspiration, a testament to the amount of work he had put in.
"Baby, I'm home."
He greeted you with a warm smile, but his eyes quickly took in the scene of scattered papers and your furrowed brow. “Hey, you look like you’re buried under a lot of work. Everything okay?”
You forced a smile and tried to sound upbeat. “Yeah, just a bit of a tight deadline. I’ll get through it.”
The tall(ish) boy cocked his head at you and set down his duffel bag, opting to walk barefoot rather than put on the matching house slippers you guys had.
Yours were kicked off somewhere in the kitchen.
Hyunjin sat down next to you, glancing at the mess around you. “You know, you don’t have to take on everything at once. Maybe you should take a break or get some help.”
You shook your head, trying to push the frustration down. “I’ll be fine. I just need to power through it.”
Hyunjin’s gaze softened with concern. “I know you’re strong, but it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. You don’t have to handle everything by yourself.”
"Hyunjin, I said I'm fine."
He huffed. "You're not fine Y/N. I see your obviously struggling."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"Hyunjin stop-"
"No. Take a break."
"I need to get this done."
"Your mental health comes first." He stated firmly, collecting your papers.
"Hyunjin stop-"
"Not until you eat." He said collecting your papers. "You need to step away from this for a second-" He grabbed multiple piles of papers that were obviously separated and you let out a noise as Hyunjin put the piles together, then adding it into another pile of other papers.
"Hyunjin what the fuck?!" You exclaimed as you rushed up from the couch and started sorting through the papers. "Shit..." You groaned, feeling tears brim your eyes in anger and frustration and exhaustion. "Are you kidding me right now Hyunjin?" You grit out looking at him.
Hyunjin stood resolute. "No, I'm serious Y/N! You're mental health is declining! You're focused on work so much that you don't even have time to focus on anything else! Even taking care of yourself, are you seriously okay with that?!"
His voice was loud, and you logically knew he wasn't yelling at you; he didn't mean to yell, he wasn't angry he was concerned but you didn't want to process the reality of the situation.
So instead you burst out into tears.
Hyunjin's eyes immediately widened, thinking you were crying because of him.
"Baby- no, no, no, baby don't cry please...please..." He said making his way to you. "No, I didn't mean to make you cry...I'm sorry...baby...I'm sorry..."
You fell limp into his arms and he held you, his chin resting on top of his head as you cried into his chest.
His sweet nothings became silent when he realized you just needed him to hold you.
You felt secure in his embrace, his scent adding a level to that security.
It seemed that you two stood there forever, until Hyunjin looked down to see you had fallen asleep.
Hyunjin knew something was up as he moved you over to the couch, running his hands through your hair.
He let you sleep there, as he looked at your laptop, screen filled with things that he didn;t understand, but knew were of importance to your job.
He sighed and wished he could do something to help, looking at the pile of papers and realizing that he had probably messed up something based on your reaction.
You woke up, and the lights in your living room were still on, but the clock in it showed that it was 4 in the morning.
"Jagiya?" Hyunjin said quietly, rubbing his eyes as you sat up from his lap.
You noticed he was still in his practice clothes.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"
Hyunjin shook his head, looking at you with tired eyes. "Are you okay?"
You blinked.
"Are you truly okay?" He asked quietly.
You swallowed and shook your head.
"Can you help me at least understand? Help me understand why work is so important that you set aside your needs?"
You opened your mouth, it felt dry but you spoke.
"I just have to." You said, not wanting to discuss things further at the moment.
Hyunjin was tempted to ask you to continue, but he knew you would come to him when you needed.
The next day went buy in a flash, as you spent most of it sorting out what Hyunjin had mixed together.
That evening, as you both settled down for bed, the tension from the previous day seemed to linger in the quiet space of your room. Hyunjin lay on his side, scrolling through his phone, while you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.
“Hyunjin,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever get overwhelmed with things, but keep going to make other people happy?”
He looked over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. He set his phone down and turned his body to you. “Do you?”
You hesitated before responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “I'm tired but...I don't want to be called lazy. I've spent my entire life being labeled that and I came here to start over. Yet...I feel like...I'm not measuring up. Maybe those people were right to call me lazy. I'm stuck in a cycle of wanting to quit, because I'm tired to the point of tears Hyunjin, I'm tired.” You licked some of the tears off your top lip and gulped for air. "But I don't want people to think I'm quitting because I'm lazy I just don't know if I can handle it anymore."
Hyunjin’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern. He sat up, turning to face you fully. “Did my comment hurt you?”
The vulnerability in your voice had clearly affected him. He reached out and took your hand gently. “I don’t want you to think that it was meant to hurt you. Rather, love, I'm sort of disproving your insecurity...not invalidating but disproving. Because I think you work too much, love. I see you day after day work yourself until you can barely move. It hurts me to see you disregard yourself for something like work.”
You felt one tear escape as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s just hard when that's how I've programmed my brain."
Hyunjin’s expression softened further, and he scooted closer to you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I want you to know that it’s okay to lean on me when you’re feeling overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through everything alone. Your struggles are valid, and I’m here to support you.”
You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. Letting yourself completely go. “I'm tired, Jinnie. I can't take it anymore.”
Hyunjin stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “Do you love me?”
You sniffed and nodded.
"Then, can you stop hurting the person I love most and let me take care of them?" He murmured while brushing your hair back from your face so it wouldn't stick to the tears.
You couldn't even reply, but by the way your fingers tightened their grip around his shirt he took it as enough of an answer.
The room was filled with a sense of calm as you both lay there together, the weight of the day slowly lifting. Hyunjin’s reassuring words and the comfort of his embrace helped to ease the anxiety you had been carrying and quickly lulled you to sleep.
In the months that followed, Hyunjin worked silently to make sure that you didn't have to feel stressed. He made you use up your vacation time- weeks upon weeks that had piled up due to your refusal to use them.
And the week before your vacation ended, Hyunjin came to you, squatting down in front of you as you sat on the floor of his art studio, covered in paint and splattering it everywhere in abstract expression. You had a real smile on your face as you looked up at him, a bit of red paint streaked across you making it look like you had a unibrow.
"Hi, Jinnie!" You exclaimed rubbing the paint onto your pants. Hyunjin smiled and spoke.
"You're happy." He stated.
"I am, it's...been really nice. Not having to work..." You bit your lip. "I go back next week."
Hyunjin licked his bottom lip. "How about you don't?"
You stared at him wide eyed.
"Come work with me. I talked to the company and explained everything. They're okay with you coming to work for us. You've always liked taking pictures, so they're willing to offer you a position as a photographer. It'll only be about 30 hours a week because of our other photographers; and you might not have to anything other than really be at the photoshoots to help out the others, but they're kind and you can still stay around us when you're not working. Or, you can help script some of our videos. Or my personal favorite is you just travel and hang out with me and let me invest all my money in you." His head was tilted slightly as he looked at you.
"Do...Can I really do that? Work for you guys? You won't think I'm lazy?"
Your hopeful and amazed tone broke Hyunjin's heart slightly, that the opportunity to work a less cumbersome job was something so foreign to you that you were that excited.
"Of course, baby." He said so quietly it was almost inaudible.
You nodded enthusiastically, looking for your phone. "I need to write my two weeks and-"
"No, baby. Just quit. Don't worry about the repercussions or anything. Let me take care of you. No one is going to call you lazy. I won't allow it. Because taking care of yourself is a job within itself. A never ending one at that."
He placed a kiss on your cheek.
"So, don't let that be an insecurity anymore. Let me take on your workload. Take all your effort."
He smiled.
"And put it into you, because you're the priority now."
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chosok-amo · 4 months ago
Text
꯱ ROTTEN, SO SPOILED! : U. HAJIME ꯱
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summary : you are a spoiled girl, attend a well-known private school in your city, always having the best thing served on your plate, but always find your way to umemiya hajime, the delinquent in your city.
warning. cunnilingus, risky public space sex, unprotected sex, fingering, degrading, dirty talk, name-calling, praise kink.
wc. 8,7k ( sorry 😭 )
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you walk through the vandalized hallways of furin high school, fuming with a box of bento in your left hand. the graffiti-covered walls and broken lockers only serve to amplify your anger. reaching the rooftop, you slam the door open, causing it to reverberate with a loud bang. the sound startles the furin students—sakura, suo, hiragi, kaji, nirei—who are busily gardening.
sakura, suo, nirei, hiragi, and kaji snap their heads toward you, eyes wide with surprise, while umemiya continues to calmly tend to the plants, seemingly unbothered by the commotion. you stride purposefully toward him, your anger palpable.
sakura, unable to contain his curiosity, turns to hiragi, the fourth king, and asks, “who is she?” hiragi glances at you, recognizing the fury in your eyes. “that's Y/N for you,“ he responds, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, throwing you a glance once before back to the plant on his hands, “she's here to see umemiya.”
you hurl the box of bento at the nearby plant, its contents scattering across the soil. “i don't want your bento!” you scream, your voice echoing across the rooftop. the other students gasp in shock, their eyes wide as they witness your outburst.
umemiya, however, remains calm. he continues to garden, his movements unhurried and composed, as if your anger doesn't faze him in the slightest. without looking up, he says with a hint of a smirk, “well, that's a waste of good food.” as you hurl the box of bento at the nearby plant, scattering its contents across the soil, the other students gasp in shock. their eyes widen as they take in the unexpected drama.
sakura stares in disbelief. “did she really just do that?” suo watches with raised eyebrows. “is this a regular thing?” and turning his head to unbothered hiragi and kaji. hiragi leans casually against the railing, watching casually. “oh, this is standard Y/N behavior, nothing new here.”
kaji, arms crossed and unbothered, playing with his phone, adds, “oh? yeah, umemiya’s been through this enough times, actually all of us. he’s taking it in stride, it's okay, just let them be.” as you continue to fume and umemiya calmly tidies up the mess, the other students look on with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
nirei decides to fill in the gaps. “i heard about her,” he begins with a playful tone. “Y/N’s is the daughter of some high-profile politicians. her entire life has been pretty much a red carpet.” sakura looks intrigued, looking at the orange-haired boy with the ‘bitch, english please’ expression before nirei continue, “red carpet? what do you mean?” sakura asks.
hiragi, knowing you a little bit more than the others answer, “ot means she’s been living in luxury. everything’s been catered to her—private schools, exclusive events, you name it. everything’s always been served to her on a silver platter.” kaji nods, throwing you a glance for a moment, “yeah, so when she doesn’t get her way, it’s like her personal universe has just exploded. that’s why she can be so dramatic.”
suo, now more interested, asks, “so her reactions are just a result of that lifestyle?” nirei nods enthusiastically. “exactly. i heard she’s used to everything being perfectly arranged for her, so when things don’t go as planned, she tends to react quite intensely.”
on the other end, you roll your eyes at umemiya nonchalant response, feeling a pang of irritation at his lack of reaction. “it's not about the food, you idiot,” you snap, crossing your arms petulantly. “it's about you constantly forcing unwanted attention on me.”
“i'm going to shove that entire bento down your throat if you keep giving me this, i don't even like bento.” the other students watch in a mix of surprise and intrigue, wondering how this scene will unfold. umemiya continues tending to his plants, undisturbed by your outburst, and his nonchalant attitude only serves to further rile you up.
his calm demeanor adds gasoline to the fire of your anger. “you're such an infuriating person,” you seethe, fists clenching at your side. “why do you insist on constantly pissing me off like this?” the other students exchange nervous glances, wondering if they should intervene or not. after a moment of tense silence, with only you glare at umemiya, who remains calm and composed. he finally turns to look at you, his gaze soft and his smile gentle. “are you done?” he asks in a soothing tone.
you respond by crossing your arms tightly over your chest, your expression one of stubborn defiance. with a dramatic sigh, you turn your head away, determined to ignore him. you sulk, your shoulders slumping as you pout, clearly not ready to let go of your frustration. the silence stretches as you continue to avoid his gaze, leaving umemiya to patiently wait for you to cool down.
despite your determination to maintain your anger, umemiya's calmness starts to chip away at your defenses. his gentle smile seems almost comforting, and his soft-spoken words send a strange flutter through your chest. you stubbornly continue to keep your gaze averted, refusing to acknowledge the effect he's having on you.
as the silence between you stretches on, you can feel your anger slowly giving way to a mixture of embarrassment and... curiosity? you resist the urge to glance at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you weakened. your sulking seems to amuse him, which only fuels your irritation.
you can't stand the way he always maintains his composure and remains unruffled while you struggle to keep your emotions in check. the other students continue to watch the unfolding drama, unsure of what to do or say. finally, after a few moments of strained silence, you grumble, “i'm not going to apologize, you know.” umemiya chuckles lightly at your stubbornness, the sound sending another unfamiliar flutter through your heart. he rises to his feet, the bento box in hand, and walks towards you with calm, measured steps.
“oh, i don't expect you to apologize,” he replies with a hint of amusement. “you're far too prideful for that.” he stops a few feet away from you, his gaze gentle as he looks down at you. his eyes drift down to your skirt, and he notices you’re wearing the one he’s repeatedly advised against. It’s the same skirt he thinks is too short, exposing more of your thighs than he’s comfortable with.
his expression darkens, a frown forming as his displeasure becomes evident. with a hint of frustration and protectiveness in his voice, he says, “i’ve told you not to wear that, haven’t i?” your eyes widen in surprise at his sudden change in demeanor. you'd expect him to address your earlier outburst, not your choice of clothing. you bristle at his words, feeling both annoyed and a tinge of embarrassment.
“since when do you get to decide what i wear?” you snap back defensively, your hands on your hips. “it's my body, and i can wear whatever i damn well, thank you very much,” you end your sentence with rolling your eyes in annoyance.
umemiya turns to his friends with a friendly smile and says, “you guys can head out now. don’t worry about me— i’ll join you later,” his voice is warm and casual, putting them at ease.
as his friends nod and begin to leave, umemiya’s gaze shifts back to you. his smile fades, and his expression turns serious as he takes in the sight of the skirt you’re wearing. a frown back to settles on his face, clearly showing his disapproval. “i’ve told you not to wear that, haven’t i?” he says, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and protectiveness. “it’s not appropriate. i really wish you’d listen to me on this.”
you watch as his friends leave, your heart rate quickening with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. his serious expression makes you feel both challenged and vulnerable. his repeated insistence about your skirt makes you feel even more defiant. you tilt your head defiantly and meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “why does it bother you so much about what i wear?” you ask, your words tinged with a hint of anger, “it's just a skirt, not some scandalous outfit.”
“it is scandalous enough for me, don't you see how every man sees you?” he walks closer to you, taking off his gloves and throwing them at the ground roughly. his words stung, igniting a mix of embarrassment and frustration in you. “so what if they look?” you reply defiantly, standing your ground. “i can't control what others think. why should I have to change for them?” your heart pounds in your chest, torn between wanting to stand up for your right to choose and the hint of validation you feels from his concern.
your mind races with a mixture of shock, confusion, and an undeniable thrill. the intensity in his eyes and the possessive tone in his voice simultaneously scare and excite you. his words, laced with both threat and promise, make your heart thump wildly against your chest. as his thumb gently brushes against your lip, you can't help but shiver at the electric sensation that courses through you.
his provocative statement hangs in the air, leaving you torn between conflicting desires. a part of you wants to push his buttons just to see what happens, but the other. . . is too captivated by his dominant manner.
“i can wear whatever i want,” your words are defiant and confident, challenging his possessiveness and the limits he's trying to impose. he smirks at your defiance, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as you challenge his authority. “is that right?” he says, his voice is low, irritated and dangerous. “so you think you can just strut around in whatever you want, without any regard for my opinion on the matter? you clearly need to learn some respect.”
he takes a step closer, narrowing the distance between you until he's towering over you before with a swift movement, he pulls you towards the picnic bench near the door.  “nobody comes up here unless i say so,” he declares, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang. the sudden isolation amplifies the tension between you, making the air seem thick with unspoken words.
“and you, my dear, are going to pay for your insolence,” sitting down, he positions you on his lap, straddling him effortlessly. one hand grips your wrist tightly, pinning it behind your body while the other travels down your body, tracing the curve of your hip before settling firmly on your thigh.
“you've been pushing your luck lately,“ he growls, leaning in close until his lips hover just inches from yours. “do you really want to provoke me further?” your heart beats a rapid tempo in your chest as you find yourself pushed onto the bench, pinned beneath him. his hand on your hip and the other on your wrist make you feel both dominated and exposed. the mix of fear and excitement causes your breathing to quicken, your body both wanting to resist and surrender at the same time.
you look up at him, trying to maintain a defiant glare but feeling the resistance in you slowly eroding. his nearness and his dominating presence make it hard to think straight. feeling your thighs against his lap makes you painfully aware of your vulnerable position. his eyes burn with a fierce intensity as he looks down at you, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. he can feel your pulse racing, your body trembling beneath him, and it only serves to fuel his desire.
“i asked you a question,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “do you want to continue provoking me, or will you finally learn some respect?” he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “because if you don't back down now, I'll show you just how much power I hold over you. and trust me, you won't like the consequences.”
his free hand slides up your thigh, inching closer to the heat of your core. the touch is gentle yet possessive, a reminder of who's in control here. “choose wisely, my love.” your body betrays you, reacting to his touch and words in a way that conflicts with your defiant spirit. the feel of his breath against your ear makes you shiver, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.
you try to gather your thoughts, to find the strength to resist, but his possessive hold on your wrist and his hand slowly sliding up your thigh make it difficult to focus. the conflicting desires between submitting to his dominance and maintaining your independence churn within you. your voice comes out as a soft gasp as you respond, “what... what will you do if i don't listen?”
a smirk curls the corners of his mouth as he watches the conflict play out on your face. his fingers continue their slow ascent, teasingly close to the warmth between your legs. “well, that depends,” he replies, his voice dripping with arrogance and confidence. “if you're smart, you'll realize that defying me isn't worth the trouble. but if you insist on being stubborn...” his grip on your wrist tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his strength. he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing you with the promise of a kiss. “then i might have to take matters into my own hands.”
his hand finally reaches its destination, pressing firmly against your heat, a silent declaration of his ownership over you. the combination of his arrogant tone, his dominating grip on your wrist, and his possessive touch against your core sends a shiver down your spine. your breath hitches as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing you with the promise of a kiss.
the mixture of desire and helplessness courses through you as he asserts his control. he presses against the heat between your legs, and a small gasp escapes your lips, betraying your body's response to his touch. you try to resist, to hold onto your defiance, but his dominance is overwhelming.
he smirks at your gasp, pleased with the effect he's having on you. his lips finally meet yours in a dominant kiss, claiming possession of your mouth as his tongue explores the depths of your mouth. as he kisses you, his hand on your core begins to move, rubbing against your sensitive flesh in a slow, deliberate motion. he breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a fierce gaze.
“now, let's see if you can still be stubborn after this,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “sit on the table and open your pretty legs wider for me, my love.” he applies gentle pressure to your inner thighs, urging you to comply with his demand while him sitting on the bench. his free hand releases your wrist, allowing you to move freely, but the implication is clear— you have a choice to make, and the consequences of your decision will be significant.
he applies more pressure against your core, his fingers exploring the wetness that has gathered there due to his touch. the sound of your gasps fills the open space, adding to the erotic tension between you. “but let's not rush things,” he continues, his eyes locked on yours. “i want to savor this moment, to enjoy the sight of you squirming under my touch.”
he allows his thumb to slip past the barrier of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. a low chuckle escapes him as he teases your clit with slow circles, his fingers drenched in your juices. “that's it, my love,” he purrs, watching you squirm beneath his touch. “let go of your pride and enjoy this, you know you want it.” his thumb continues its torturous pace, driving you closer to the edge without ever reaching the climax you crave.
he positions himself between your spread legs, sitting in front of you as your fragile body hovering over him. his hand trails down your body once again, lingering on the curves of your hips before reaching between your thighs. this time, he doesn't tease— instead, he plunges two fingers deep inside you, stretching you deliciously after position your legs on his shoulder, wide open. “feel that?” he asks, his voice filled with pride and lust. “that's the power I hold over you.”
“u-ume . .” you plead, stuttered.
at the sound of your stuttered plea, he smiles, a predatory glint in his eye. his fingers curl inside you, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your back arch off the table. he increases the pressure, his movements becoming more purposeful. “you like that, don't you?” he taunts, his voice thick with desire. “my little flower blossoming under my touch.” his gray irises darken as he gaze leaving yours to look at your drenching cunt in front of his face before back to yours, smiling like the devil.
his thumb resumes its work on your clit, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the brink of release. each thrust of his fingers pushes you closer, but he holds back, refusing to allow you the satisfaction you crave. he watches your face intently, drinking in every expression of pleasure and frustration. his fingers continue their relentless pace, driving you wild with need. just when you think you can't take anymore, he slows down, pulling his fingers out of you and leaving you aching for more.
“not yet, my love,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, against your thigh as his lips leaving a trail of burning sensation there. “i want you to beg for it first,” he leans in, his lips brushing against your cunt. “beg me to let you cum, and maybe, just maybe, i'll grant your wish.”
“please . . . i-i wanna cum,” your eyes glisten under the clear day, reflecting the man as you plead. his smirk widens at your plea, and he lets out a satisfied chuckle. he returns his attention to your swollen clit, circling it with renewed vigor. his fingers slide back inside you, filling you completely. “that's a good girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with lust. “now, tell me exactly how much you want it.”
with each word you utter, he increases the intensity of his touch, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. he wants to hear you beg, to know that you crave his touch as much as he craves you. your tiny hands grasping tightly around his wrist. “d-don't stop, please. . . ah! keep—” your lips throwing a tight line, along with your eyes closed hardly, long nails almost digging on his flesh. “hahh . . . hajime!”
your delicate fingers wrapped around umemiya's wrist. feeling your nails dig into his skin only fuels his desire further. he keeps up the relentless pace, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm designed to drive you insane. with his other hand, he reaches down to cup your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your shirt.
“that's it, moan my name,” he encourages, leaning forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss. as his tongue explores your mouth, his fingers find that sweet spot within you, pressing against it relentlessly. but he quickly pulls his fingers out the moment you close reach the edge, giving you false hope to cum. you moaning a protest, almost begging him to put his fingers back inside your cunt.
his fingers pause at the entrance of your pussy, just teasing you with the prospect of being inside you again. he pulls his hand away from your aching breast, leaving you cold and needy. “don't worry, my love,” he whispers, a devilish smile playing on his lips. “you're going to cum...but not until I'm ready.”
with that promise hanging in the air, he stands up, towering over you. his hand moves to undo his pants, freeing his hard cock that throbs with anticipation. he take of the blazer of your private-school uniform, throwing them mindlessly and snatch open your white shirt open without taking the shirt off, giving him a sight of a pair of your breasts, covered with pink lacy bra.
his eyes darken at the sight of your breasts, barely contained by the lacy material of your bra. he runs a finger along the edge of your bra strap, his touch sending sparks of pleasure across your skin. “mmm, you look beautiful like this,” he murmurs, leaning down to place soft kisses on the swell of your breasts.
“but i want more.”
without warning, he grips the bottom of your bra and pulls it down, exposing your nipples to the cool air of the open space. he takes a hardened peak into his mouth, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure, making you arch your back towards him.
a low groan escapes him the moment your hand and land on his cock, wraps your fingers around to feel the heat. . . burning even, radiating from his skin. his cock twitches in your grip, already eager for more of your touch. “oh, you're playing with fire now,” he warns, his voice husky with desire. despite the warning, he continues to lavish attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle bites and soothing licks.
your ministrations seem to spur him on, and he begins to thrust subtly into your hand, seeking friction. the sensation of your soft palm stroking his hardness is intoxicating, and he finds himself growing harder with each pass.
“don't stop,” he begs, his hips rocking into your touch as he loses himself in the pleasure of your caress. the urge to claim you fully becomes overwhelming, and he knows he won't be able to hold back for much longer.
umemiya can't help but grunt as your fingers tighten around his throbbing member, coaxing out lewd sounds of pleasure from deep within his chest. your touch is a drug he can’t get enough of, drawing forth primal urges to possess and claim. fueled by your touch, he grows increasingly desperate, his hips bucking erratically into your hand. he pulls back from your breasts momentarily— panting heavily, looking down at you with darkened eyes full of lust, raw hunger and a hint of mischief.
“enough games,” he says, his voice rough with arousal. in a swift movement, he lifts you effortlessly off the table, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. with your back pressed against the wall, he aligns himself at your entrance. a single, powerful thrust sends him deep inside you, stretching and filling you completely. the sensation of being buried within you is overwhelming, and he groans deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“oh fuck!” you almost scream, back arch away from the wall the moment in second his cock bottom out. “holy fuck...” he curses, his hips beginning to move in a rhythmic motion. each thrust drives him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.
“w-wait, can we move? it's a public place, wha.. what if someone sees us?” you ask as his cock filling you up, he pauses mid-thrust, his breath hot against your ear. his cock remains buried deep inside you, twitching with the need to move. “you're not wearing condom either.” your eyes straight up meet with the open sky in front of you before meeting his, hooded with nothing but lust and desire for him.
he halts his movements momentarily, considering your words. but then he shakes his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “fuck ‘em, baby. let ‘em watch,” he replies, resuming his vigorous pounding. the thought of being caught only seems to fuel his desire further. ignoring your concerns about privacy, he continues to pound into you with unrestrained passion. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet rooftop garden, punctuated by your gasps and moans.
“we're alone here,” he assures you breathlessly, his voice muffled against your neck. his free hand roams your body, squeezing your ass cheeks as he grinds against you. “i told everyone to stay away before, remember?” he adds, nipping at your earlobe. “no one will bother us, none of those fucker dare to bother me.” his thrusts become more erratic when a glimpse of you nodding caught by his gray irises, driven by the intensity of his desire. the absence of a condom only heightens the risk, the danger making the experience even more exhilarating.
“you feel incredibly wrapped around me like this,” he growls, picking up speed. “so fucking tight and wet. i can't get enough of you.” his words send shivers down your spine, and you cling to him tighter, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. the roughness of the wall against your back contrasts with the smoothness of his skin as he moves within you.
“ah, hajime!” you cry out, your voice rising in pitch as he hits that perfect spot inside you again and again. your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself as the world spins around you. just when you think you can't take anymore, he shifts the angle of his thrusts, rubbing against your clit with every stroke.
he leans back slightly, giving himself a better angle to plunge deeper inside you. his movements become more deliberate, each thrust designed to hit that spot within you that makes you clench around his cock. “you like that, hm?” he asks, his voice dripping with arrogance and satisfaction. as he speaks, he slows his pace momentarily, allowing you to savor the fullness of him inside you before driving into you with renewed vigor.
“fuck— s . . so good.”
the sensation of being taken so brutally, so passionately, is overwhelming. your walls begin to flutter around his cock, signaling your approaching climax. he responds by gripping your hips tighter, anchoring you to him as he fucks you with abandon. he quickens his pace, his cock driving in and out of you with ruthless precision. each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, your orgasm building rapidly.
“i'm gonna make you cum so hard,” he promises, his voice a low purr against your ear. “my little slut.” his words send shivers down your spine, adding to the pleasure coursing through your veins. your clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, the stimulation pushing you closer to the brink.
“fuck... you're so tight,” he groans, his thrusts becoming more desperate. “i can't hold back much longer.” feeling your inner walls start to convulse around his throbbing cock, umemiya gives a few final, deep thrusts before surrendering to his own climax. with a guttural groan, he spills himself inside you, his seed flooding your womb.
“that's right, cum for me,” he commands, his voice thick with lust. “show me how much you love my cock.” the sight of you coming undone under him, your body writhing with pleasure, is enough to push him over the edge. as waves of ecstasy wash over him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. “you're mine,” he whispers fiercely, still pulsing inside you.
still buried deep inside you, he holds you tightly against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. his heavy breaths fan across your skin, each exhale hot and ragged. umemiya smirks against your neck and lips brushing against your sensitive skin.
he pulls his head away from your neck to took his gaze to you. smirk only grow wider after he see you, eyes glisten, your cheeks crimson red while your chest rising up and down, trying to catch your breath that he just took away. “i want more,” your honey voice ringing under the warm breeze, looking at the gray iris upfront.
“always so greedy,” he teases, his own are dark and intense, reflecting the raw desire still burning within him. umemiya bring his feet to the green picnic bench, still with you wrapped around him like a koala before he sit on the table with you on his lap, his cock still inside you.
his muscular arm tightly holds you close, leaving no space between except the uniform you use and the white t-shirts he used. instead of moving his hips, his lips find you first, giving you nothing but sloppy kisses.
he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor. as he ravages your lips, his free hand begins to roam your body once more, caressing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric of your uniform. leaning back slightly, he gazes down at where your bodies are still joined, marveling at the sight of his length disappearing into you. even though they've just finished, his cock twitches inside you, signaling its readiness for another round.
“mmm, tastes so sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth, breaking the kiss briefly to nip at your lower lip. he resumes his assault on your senses, his hips starting to rock gently, stirring his softening cock within you. his other hand slides down to your thigh, pressing it firmly against his hip as he grinds against you. the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your core, reigniting the embers of your desire.
“tell me what you want,” he urges, his voice husky with need. “i'll give it to you, anything at all.“ your arm wrapped around his neck while the free one roamed around his body, feeling the tone muscle under his white t-shirts before sleeping on his white lock, tugging his head slightly to give you a space of his neck.
you biting his adam's apple before whispering, “fuck me, hajime. i wanna feel your dick inside me again,” at the end of your words, your lips find it's way to his soft spot, sucking and licking, mindlessly giving him a harmless bruise. lips so sweet but so filthy, so so filthy. his sharp intake of breath tells you everything— the action on his neck has struck a chord, setting off a surge of arousal. a pleased hum rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your mouth. with a firm grip on your hips, he positions you just so, lining his cock up with your entrance.
“hold onto something,” he warns, his voice low and raspy. with a swift movement, he thrusts up into you, burying himself to the hilt in a single fluid motion. the sudden intensity of his penetration causes you to gasp, your back arching involuntarily as pleasure spikes through your body. he doesn’t pause, however, his hips snapping forward in a series of short, forceful thrusts that have you seeing stars for the second time.
“beg for it,” he orders, nipping at your earlobe. “f-fuck me, hajime. don't stop, o-oh fuck!” tears streaming down your face, ruining your mascara the way your closed tightly.
“that's it, say my name when you want something,” he groans, pushing into you with increased force. his hands roam freely now, grasping your ass cheeks firmly and spreading them apart to gain better access. the new angle allows him to hit deeper than before, his tip bumping against that spot inside you that seems to trigger every nerve ending. the change in position causes a slight sting, but it's quickly overtaken by the torrent of blissful sensations cascading throughout your body.
“faster...” you gasp out, your fingers digging into his flesh as you struggle to articulate the intensity of your needs. at your plea, he obliges without hesitation, picking up the pace to a relentless rhythm. each thrust becomes harder, faster, more demanding than the last. his cock slams into you relentlessly, the sound of wet, slick flesh meeting filling the air.
“that’s it, take it, baby,” he growls, his voice laced with raw lust. “all of it.”
all of it.
his hands leave your ass momentarily, trailing up your sides before returning to grasp your thighs, lifting them higher so he can angle his thrusts perfectly. this new position drives his cock even deeper, hitting that secret spot within your closed eyelids, bursts of light flicker like stars.
“god damn, i love fucking you,” he pants, leaning forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss. “fuck, i-i can't—” you crying on his lips. he breaks the kiss, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he continues to pound into you with unrelenting ferocity, splitting you into two. your cries only spur him on, his movements becoming even more brutal as he chases his own release.
“shh, you can,” he snarls, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “you will,” he whispered in your ear. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he fucks you senseless. the added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body tensing in preparation for the inevitable climax.
“now, cum for me,” he demands, his voice a low, commanding growl. “show me how much you want it.” but the moment you're about to reach your climax, umemiya stop moving, mocking you with a giggle and in one second you're already pressing against the hard wood covered with his uniform, your feet standing wobble in front of umemiya. a moan of protest leave your lips the moment you feel the emptiness inside your pussy.
“i know baby, i know,” he reassuring you that he's gonna fuck you once again, “you can't stand properly, but try harder for me, hm?“ he caresses your ass with one hand while the other slightly tug your hair, guiding your face to the side so he can take a clearer vision of your side profile.
he holds your hips with one hand while the other stroking his hard-still cock, getting ready for you once again. he watches you with hooded eyes, his breathing ragged as he waits for you to regain some semblance of balance. when you finally manage to steady yourself, he gives a satisfied grunt, his hand tightening around your hip.
“there we go,” he says approvingly, a smirk playing on his lips. “now let's finish this.” without further ado, he aligns himself with your dripping entrance once more. holding onto your waist firmly, he thrusts into you with renewed vigor. the sensation of being filled completely by him sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.
“fuck yes,” he groans, his pace relentless as he starts to hammer into you with abandon. “fuck— stop! u-ume . .” your hand moving backwards, trying to reach umamiye who's ready to fuck you from behind. your action only made him grasp your wrist and jail your hands from pushing him away. you don't know why, but somehow he's getting more bigger than usual you can practically feel his cock poking your cervix, suffocating you.
“so big, —c-cant. oh. my-god!” he fuck you so good you can't even making a sentence properly. a dark chuckle escapes him at your struggles, his grip on your wrist unyielding as he uses his other hand to spread your legs wider, opening you up to receive him fully. “shh, just let go,” he coaxes, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close, “i've got you.” he give your shoulder a kiss after kiss, a hard bite after that's for sure going to leave a bruise.
each powerful thrust seems designed to drive you mad with pleasure, his thick length stretching you impossibly wide as it plunges into your depths. the pressure builds with each stroke, until you can hardly bear the intense sensations coursing through your body. “come on, baby,” he urges, his voice a husky whisper. “give it to me. let me feel you cumming on my cock.” umemiya large palm gripping on your neck as he pulls you closer until your back touching his chest. his other arm slinging around your waist tightly. his thumb pressing on your neck.
“good slut, good little slut for me, i know you can take it baby,” he whispered in your ear as he thrust faster. his cock throbs inside you, the sensation amplified by the clenching walls surrounding him. the thought of him taking you so thoroughly, so ruthlessly, has your mind spinning. his grip is unyielding, ensuring you remain trapped beneath him as he continues to ravage your body.
“you like it rough, don't you?” he taunts, his breath hot against your ear. “you love when i fuck you senseless, when i make you mine completely.” his hips snap forward, driving his enormous cock deeper into your pussy. the pressure is intense, bordering on painful, but you crave it, needing more of the exquisite agony he inflicts upon you.
“yes, just like that,” you whimper, your body trembling with the effort of staying upright. “s-so deep, hajime.” with a deep, guttural groan, umemiya increases the tempo of his thrusts, his large member slamming into your clenching walls with relentless force. each movement sends ripples of pleasure radiating out from your core, threatening to consume you whole.
“that's right,” he grunts, feeling your inner muscles fluttering around his pulsing shaft. “take every inch, baby. show me how much you need it.” the heat between your bodies intensifies, the sounds of skin slapping against skin mingling with your desperate gasps and moans. umemiya's fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks that serve as a permanent reminder of his possession.
“don't hold back now,” he commands, his voice strained with desire. “cum for me, show me what you really are...my good little slut.” his grip on your throat tightens, just enough to make your pulse race and your head spin. the combination of his dominating touch and the brutal pace of his fucking leaves you dizzy with need, teetering on the brink of a shattering climax.
“i'm going to fill you up,” he promises, his voice strained with desire. “going to mark you as mine from the inside out.” feeling your walls tighten around him, umemiya's control snaps. with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, flooding your womb with his hot seed for the nth time that afternoon. your name is a primal chant on his lips as he rides out his orgasm, each spurt sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
“oh fuck, why are you so damn tight? i thought i already stretched you out before,” he pants, his body shaking with the force of his release. “so perfect... c-can't believe i try not to break you when you're this pretty,” as the last tremors of his orgasm subside, he slowly eases out of you, his spent cock glistening with your combined juices. leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, marking you with his scent.
“good girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, laced with satisfaction. “always so good for me.” slowly he leans you against the table once more, letting you catch your breath as your eyes close. he too, trying to catch his breath. eyes still glue on your flustered face.
his gaze shifted to your dripping pussy when he pulled his dick out, bringing your cum as well, until it dripped on the floor, making a little puddle of cum, mixing with his. watching you with hooded eyes, umemiya's hand trails lightly over your curves, tracing patterns across your skin. the sight of your glistening cunt, coated with their mixed fluids, sends another wave of arousal through him.
“that's right,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble. “you're covered in my cum, all mine.” leaning down, he takes a moment to lap at your swollen clit, savoring the taste of you mixed with his own essence. the sensation is intoxicating, driving him to new heights of desire. a string of moan leaving your lips swollen lips.
“you look so sexy like this,” he murmurs against your heated flesh, “all used up and marked by me.” his tongue laps at your slick folds again, savoring the taste of you. every flick and swirl sends jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, reigniting the flames of desire. “just relax,” he soothes, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “let me take care of everything.”
slowly, methodically, he begins to work on your sensitive nub, his mouth a warm, wet oasis on your throbbing clit. the dual sensations of his tongue and the remnants of his cum coating your pussy have you squirming under his touch. “fuck, ume— so sensitive,” you whimpering, clenched around nothing. he chuckles darkly, the vibrations adding to the intensity as he continues to tease your clit with his tongue. his hands roam your body, kneading and caressing, mapping every curve and dip.
“mmm, i know just what you like,“ he purrs, his words muffled against your sensitive flesh. “you're so responsive to me, baby. always so eager to please like a little slut,” he chuckles. increasing the pressure, he sucked gently on your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud before releasing it with a pop. the cool air hits your damp skin, sending shivers down your spine. he spins you around, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. leaning in, he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you once more.
“taste yourself on my tongue,” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “taste us, together.” the tangy flavor of his cum mixes with your own natural sweetness, a heady cocktail that only serves to heighten your arousal. you can feel his hardness pressing against your stomach, a constant reminder of what's to come.
“now, let's get cleaned up,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to stand straight and pull you to your feet. “and then we can start round two,” a breathy chuckle follows, jokingly along with you moaning a complaint, already feeling sore, “i can't feel my leg.” he laughs heartily at your complaint, moving to grab your hips to help support you. “poor thing,” he teases, squeezing your hips gently. “next time i'll go easier on you,” he kiss your forehead with the same soft downturn gray eyes he always had.
“wait here for me baby, let me clean you up,” he kissed your forehead once again before taking a clean cloth to clean your mess and his. with gentle but firm movements, umemiya cleans away the evidence of your intense lovemaking. his touch is careful yet thorough, ensuring every trace of their combined essences is wiped away.
“there, all better,” he says, planting a soft kiss on your temple. “i've got you,” he wraps the cloth around your hips, securing it snugly to keep the blood flowing back to your legs. giving your ass a playful slap, he smirks. “stay put, baby. i'll be right back,” returning moments later, umemiya carries a bottle of cold water and a small towel.
“come sit properly on the table, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice resonating in your ears. with gentle hands, he guides you to sit facing him on the table while he takes a seat on the bench. he positions your legs sideways and looks up at you with a warm smile.
he carefully unwinds the cloth from around your hips, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin. setting aside the cloth, he pours some water onto the towel and begins to wipe down your thighs and between your legs.
“this should help,” he explains, his voice soothing. “cold water will bring the blood back to your legs faster,” he continues to dab at your skin, taking care not to press too hard. each stroke of the cool fabric sends pleasant tingles up your spine, helping to ease the ache in your limbs.
“mmm, that feels nice,” you murmur, feeling your body relax under his touch. you watch his expression, noticing the way his eyes focus on his task, carefully dabbing at your skin with the cool cloth. despite the domesticity of the moment, you can still feel a faint tension between the two of you, an undercurrent of desire that hasn't quite been satisfied.
your eyes meet his as he looks up at you, his fingers gliding gently along your sensitive skin. “is that better?” he asks, his voice filled with a subtle hint of satisfaction. his fingers brush against your inner thighs as he cleans you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “keep still,” he instructs, his voice low and commanding, “don't move.”
despite the pleasant sensations his touch is stirring, you obey his command and try to stay still, gripping the edge of the table for support. you can feel the cool cloth gliding across your skin, erasing the remnants of their earlier activities. his eyes remain fixed on your face as he continues to clean you, his touch firm yet gentle. the silence in the room is interrupted only by the sound of your labored breaths, a telltale sign of your growing desire. “feel better?” he smiles at you after he finishes cleaning you up.
you nod, feeling a mix of pleasure and relief now that the cool water has helped to soothe your aching muscles. “much better,” you reply, a small smile curving your lips. “thank you.” he tosses the cloth into the basket in the corner before letting his hands resting on your thighs. “good,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. “i like taking care of you.” his thumbs brush against your inner thighs, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.
“why?” you asked.
he glances up at you, a hint of surprise in his expression. “why what?” he asks, his thumbs still tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he continues to gaze at you. “why do you enjoy taking care of me so much?” you ask, curiosity in your voice as you place one palm on the table to support your body, leaning slightly towards him. he pauses for a moment, his fingers stilling against your skin as he considers your question. “because i care about you,” he says finally, his voice sincere. “i like knowing that i can help you feel good, that i can take care of you. i t makes me happy,” he kiss your arm lightly.
“yeah, but why?” you press, wanting to understand his deeper reasons. “what makes you want to take on that responsibility and effort for me?” he hesitates for a moment, his fingers resuming their gentle caresses as he gathers his thoughts. “i suppose it's because i have a strong protective instinct when it comes to you,” he admits, his voice much softer now. “i want to shield you from anything that might hurt you, and i want to make sure that you're happy and taken care of.”
he pauses for a moment, his eyes meeting yours. “i guess i just can't stand the thought of anyone else touching you or making you feel the way i can.” “but we're not even dating, aren't we?” your eyebrows arch, “why do you want to waste your time taking care of me?” you asked, added another layer of your confusion to umemiya's plate.
he lets out a soft sigh, his thumbs still tracing lazy circles on your skin. “i don't see it as wasting my time,” he responds, his voice firm, “taking care of you brings me a sense of satisfaction and contentment.” he silent for a moment, his expression becoming more serious. “and yes, we're not officially dating,” he admits, “but that doesn't change my feelings for you. i care for you, regardless of the title we put on our relationship.” he hesitates for a moment, his thumbs pausing momentarily on your skin before resuming their gentle stroking. he tilts his head slightly to one side. “does that matter to you?”
he watches your expression with a mixture of curiosity and concern as he waits for your response. it's clear that your question has struck a nerve and prompted him to consider the significance of your relationship status. he leans in closer, his hands moving to rest on your hips as he gazes into your eyes. “does it matter to you that we're not officially dating?” he repeats, his voice low but earnest. he gauges your reaction carefully, clearly interested in your answer.
you shrug your shoulders and say, “yes, it’s important to me. i believe i deserve more than just a relationship without any real commitment or label,” your eyes meet his gentle gaze, revealing your emotions as they reflect back at you in his expression. he nods thoughtfully, his fingers gently tracing along the curve of your hips as he processes your response. “i see,” he mutters, his voice thoughtful. “you want something more concrete, something that's defined and has a label.” he gazes into your eyes, his expression earnest. “can i ask you something?”
“hm?” your eyes never leaving his.
he hesitates for a moment, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, soothing motions. “if i asked you to be my girlfriend right now,” he finally murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, “would you say yes?” you smile slightly, tilting your head to one side until it rests gently on your shoulder. with a playful glint in your eye, you add, “i’d probably say yes.” his expression shifts, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “probably?” he repeats, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
he moves closer to you, his hands finding their way to your hips once again. “only probably? i wanted a definite answer, not a probability.”
“then take me out on a date and ask me properly,” you say, a smile still gently gracing half of your face. as you speak, your fingers lightly drifts across and rests on his soft skin, tenderly caressing his cheek. he lets out a low chuckle, his hands stilling on your thighs as he leans back and looks up at you. “you're demanding one, aren't you?” he teases, his fingers continuing their gentle caresses on your thigh. “but fair enough,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice.
he studies you for a moment before finally standing up and taking a step closer to you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. “alright then,” he says, his tone playful, “how about i take you out to dinner tomorrow night and ask you out properly?”
nodding your head with a small smile that gradually grows wider, you say, “cool,” your shyness preventing you from giving a more complete answer. he grins at your response, his hands firmly on your hips as he pulls you closer to him. “cool,” he repeats, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
he grins at you, his hands still resting on your hips as he pulls you closer to him. “you'll say yes, right?” he teases, his voice low and slightly taunting. “once i take you out and ask you properly, you won't have an excuse to say no?” he leans in closer, his body pressed against yours, his breath warm against your neck. “you can't back out now,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “after i take you out on a date and ask you to be my girlfriend, i expect you to say yes.” he nuzzles your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses against your skin. “no take backs, no second thoughts. you're mine.”
“don’t have much of a choice now, do i?” you chuckle softly as your hand reaches out to gently touch his soft white hair. he chuckles softly, his lips still pressed against your neck. “no, you don't,“ he agrees, his hands drifting down to squeeze your hips gently. “but I'm sure you won't mind being mine.” he pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of desire and possessiveness. “you're already mine in every way that matters,” he adds, his voice low and seductive.
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lcriedlastnight · 4 months ago
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Idiots in love with Oscar
"Can you stop smiling? I'm literally having a seizure suppressing the urge to kiss you."
omg anon, i literally love you so much.
tw: fem! reader, tried my hand at a little goofy story idk if it's good if it's not ignore it pls :), lmk if you want me to add anything.
w/c: 1k
oscar was a quiet a reserved guy, this almost everyone knew. he was private and did not like discussing anything outside of racing or letting it take up much space in his mind. but there was a few times where his guard was down completely and he was free to act how ever he felt like and that was when he was with you.
it could not have been any earlier than one am and both you and oscar had just come back from a lovely date night. you had both done your nightly routines, standing right next to each other just like you always did and had both clambered into bed. you could tell oscar was in a happier head space compared to earlier on in the week. loving touches and little jokes were scattered all the way home and even when you were both brushing your teeth before you had gotten into bed.
instead of getting into bed and turning the bedside lamps off, you sit against the head board as you watch oscar walk around to his side of the bed.
"what you looking at, missy?" oscar asks, cheeky smile on his face as he sits down beside you.
"you, sexy boy." you smirk back while oscar grimaces.
"ugh what's wrong with you! you know i hate that word." he groans, his head falling back but he had clearly misjudged how far the top of the headboard was and his head thumped against it. another groan comes from the man, while you fall into a fit of giggles. you are quite literally doubled in two in laughter as you lean into his side.
"are- are you okay?" you ask once the laughter has calmed down a little. oscar rolls his eyes at you, hand clutching the back of his head.
"no i'm not okay! i just banged my head! i could have a concussion and here you are pissing your pants!" oscar complains. it sets you off again. maybe you should have skipped that glass of wine with dinner. you know oscar does not really mean what he says, he has always been a crybaby.
"yeah, you just sit there and laugh. i'm sure that'll make me feel better." oscar moans.
"what do you want me to do, you want me to kiss it better?" you tease, crawling back up his side. your smile was blinding as you felt genuine happiness for the first time in a while. in your opinion, nothing beats times like these with your boyfriend, they were some of your fondest memories.
"fuck off." is all you get back. it makes you chuckle.
you sit there grinning at him like an idiot for a while, replaying the incident in your mind, trying to not laugh again. oscar just stares back with an almost constipated look, is what you would call it.
"can you stop smiling? i'm literally having a seizure trying to supress the urge to kiss you." oscar finally pipes up.
"oh, you definitely have a concussion." you tell him, acting serious. your hands come to clutch at the back of his head, feeling for the sore spot. you know once you find it because of the high pitched yelp oscar lets out.
"why would you do that!? it really hurts!" oscar scolds, you just smile at him. a sweet "sorry" escaping your lips. oscar lets out a "hmph." and pulls you in closer to have you straddling his thighs. your hands come to rest just underneath his ears.
"you gotta kiss me now to say sorry." oscar tells you, a smarmy smile on his face, meanwhile you look at him with one brow raise, comically, in suspicion.
"yeah? what do i have to be sorry for, osc?" you question him.
"this was all your fault!"
"it's my fault that you banged your head on the headboard?" oscar nods and pulls you in a little closer by your waist.
"yeah and now you gotta kiss me to say sorry, and to make it better. two kisses minimum." oscar explains while you just smile at him, trying desperately to not laugh right in his face.
"is that right?" you question his words. oscar only hums and pulls your lips towards his with one hand on the back of your neck.
oscar had ended up complaining about his sore head all the way until you two had decided to go to sleep at near enough three am. you had to let him rest his head on your chest because the poor boy just could not lay his head on his pillow the way he usually did at night because of his sore spot. you were more than certain that it would not even be sore in the morning because it did not sound like oscar had even hit his head that hard and you knew how much oscar liked to play up his injuries just to get a little extra love and affection from him, as of you would not just give him it if he just outright asked for it.
that weekend he went around telling the entire paddock that you had pushed him into the headboard and other variations of that story. all of them ended in you causing the injury. you had to go around defending yourself to all of your boyfriends friends and co workers.
it was one of the first times anyone else other than you had even had a glimpse into that side of osacar ans as much as you wanted to gatekeep it and have it all to yourself, you kind of liked the fact that everyone else, including the media, got to see oscar as something other than the deadpan, racing loving, sarcastic boy that they knew all too well. unfortunately for you, lando constantly brings up the incident and no matter how many times you try to tell him the truth and how stupid oscar was actually being, lando was quick to ignore it and jump to the side of his teammate and defend him to no end.
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midorisplash · 1 year ago
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“You should get off my lap.”
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Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader
Summary: You’re one of the triplets childhood best friends. One night you call Matt tipsy to pick you up from a party.
Warnings: Mention of alcohol, kissing, dry humping, C*m in underwear.
A/n: I wasn’t gonna post this but I wrote it so might as well! I hope you like it.
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You sloppy walked into Matt’s room one hand on his wall sliding it off to plop onto his bed. Matt sighed walking in behind you and closing his door, his hands flying up to his face. “Oh my gosh y/n…You’re to much.” He mumbled walking to his bed and sitting down with his back on his headboread. You swayed back and forth then pouted “Sorry Matt.” You whined looking at him. Matt was ready for bed when you had called him to pick you up. He didn't wanna get up, but he'd never let you drive intoxicated.
He nodded with a exhale but smiled. “It's fine..Are you tired yet? Wanna go to sleep?” You nodded slowly and examined Matt as he laid on his bed. You noticed how his hair is fluffy from laying around. How his tattoo scattered arms looked more toned then usual. How his hands looked softer than expected, soft enough for you to wanna reach out and hold them. The way his sweatpants fit him perfectly. “Okay? You should lay down if your tired then” He spoke patting the bed next to him slightly. You didn’t reply just looking at him your eyebrows drawing together as your head tilted. “Y/n! What are you staring at?” He questioned. You blinked then starting laughing yourself. “Sorry Matt. You look hotter usually tonight.” Matt chuckled rolling his eyes. “Really? I think your saying that cause you where drinking.” You shock your head “No it's not that cause you always look hot, you just look hotter tonight. Well, Mabye it is that actually.” You giggled quickly and turned to face him. You thought for a moment before pull yourself more onto the bed then without warning straddled his lap .
He gasped his hand flying up as he looked around and then at you. “O-oh y/n.. I don’t know..” He mumbled a smile forming on your face as you noticed his cheeks slowly turning more pink. “You don’t know what? Is this not okay? I’ll get off.” “I don’t know..I mean I was just talking..it’s okay. So um are you ready to sleep?” He spoke then cleared his throat. You shrugged. “I’ll sleep if you’re ready to sleep.” “i-I am. Yeah..” He stayed quiet after speaking bringing his hands together and playing with his thumbs. You honestly don’t know why you even got on his lap, he just looks hot and your tipsy and wanted to mess with him. He always get flustered and nervous anytime you flirt with him or do things to him like this as a joke. “Y/n I think you should get off my lap.” He murmured looking up at you. “Huh? Why?” You pouted pushing a hair behind your ear instinctively pushing your hips back, your breath hitching when rubbed against what felt like a lump.
His hand quickly rushed to you hips holding you in place. “Don’t move too much y/n.” He spoke staring into your eyes. You blinked and tilted your head you couldn’t help pushing your hips back once to see what he was so scared about, rubbing against the lump once more. His legs bent squeezing your hips. “Y/n! Come on.” He pleaded. “Please don’t move.” it didn’t take you long to realize the lump was him getting hard, your eyes widened with a big smile. “Oh You’re getting hard aren’t you!” You spoke pointing a accusing finger into his chest. “No! Ew don’t say that! ” He exclaimed swallowing and looking down avoiding your eyes. You moved your hips back again earning a nervous mewl from him as he tried to hold your hips tighter in place. “Oh my gosh, Matt you’re hard!” You gushed. Matt panicked knowing it was too late to hide now finally looking up at you his eyes wide. “Y/n please don’t ever speak of this! I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it! Please don’t tell my brothers.” He whined.
You laughed at his pleas covering your mouth. Matt couldn’t help but smile faintly at your laughing. “Y/n seriously! It’s not funny. This is embarrassing!” “Matt, Matt, calm down it’s okay.” You spoke with a smile patting his chest. He sighed and looked at you. “Really? But I got hard from you just sitting on my lap..” He replied in a whine. “Yeah, I don’t care. I’m just glad I got to make a hot guy hard tonight.” He smiled at your stupid response rolling his eyes. Your laughter settled down and you both stayed in silence for a while looking at each other before his hand went to push hair out of your face. “I think I wanna kiss you.” He finally spoke looking at your lips. “I think you should do it.” Matt licked his lip immediately grabbing the back of your head and gently pulling you into a kiss.
The kiss slowly became more heated Matt thrusting up into your clothed cunt as you held yourself down against him. You pulled away to kiss down his neck sucking on the space under his ear. “Y/n..” He moaned his stomach clenching. Your sucked until a hickey formed kissing his jaw back up to his lips the make out  continuing . Matt’s legs didn’t stop twitching trying to keep steady pace humping up against you. He tried holding the kiss but pulled away letting his head fall onto his pillow moaning into the air with his eyes closed. You smiled at him enjoying himself and leaned down nibbling on his ear lobe then kissed back to his neck licking and sucking at it. His eyes squeezed shut tightly for a moment before trying to calm down, he felt that familiar feeling of the knot in his belly tightening. “Oh my gosh.” He whimpered quietly his nails now dig into your hips as he stopped his thrusting.
“What’s wrong Matt?” You whispered into his ear. You knew he had to be close so you started moving your hips rolling them against his twitching boner. “It’s N-nothing. Oh my gosh…” He moaned quietly squeezing his eyes tightly shut again. “Then why did you stop moving?” “Cause y/n… I’ll cum, and I will if you keep moving.” He whispered opening his eyes to look at you. You smiled “In your pants Matt? What if I wanted it in my mouth? You’re so embarrassing.” You joked and giggled. He nodded quickly his eyes brows knitting together. “I know.. Y/n..” He held onto you tightly. “Look into my eyes Matt, I wanna see your face when you cum.” You whispered leaning down and licking his lips rubbing back and forth against him until you felt his twitching get rapid. “Oh fuck…oh fuck…I’m cumming.” He tried to murmur looking into your eyes as you sat up to get a better view. The knot in his stomach snapped erupting a big groan of relief from him releasing into his boxers. His eyes rolled back instinctively as he came so he closed him them. You watched his legs squirm around the bed, his hands griping onto you tightly switching from your hips your waist. “Wow.” You awed putting a hand to his neck rubbing the side gently to help soothe him. He started panted quietly and opened his eyes slowly looking at you his pupils big and black taking up his whole eye. “That’s so e-embarrassing..” He whimpered still coming down until he just relaxed his hands falling from you waist to bed. You pushed yourself down onto his legs and saw the wet spot he left on his sweatpants. You smiled looking back at his face . He sat up on his elbows and looked at you as you both couldn’t help start laughing at the situation.
“I won’t tell anyone this happened if you don’t.” You spoke. “Deal.” He smiled and sighed letting his body plop back onto the bed.
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sansaorgana · 7 months ago
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Please can you write a Buck x reader where he's really protective of her while she's pregnant? I think he'd be SO attentive and constantly making sure she's okay
hello! 🤰🏻🤰🏾 thank you for your request 💕 I think he'd be the best daddy and very involved in the pregnancy unlike most men back then 😊
I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻
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You reached above your head to grab a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe. It was no easy task, especially now when you were six months pregnant and you felt much heavier and slower. However, you didn’t want to ask Buck for help because he was busy reading a book downstairs. You didn’t want to bother him with something so silly.
You managed to grab the edge of the box as your tongue stuck out a little out of effort. You pulled the box closer and lost the grasp of it. You could only watch it hit the ground as you quickly took a step aside to avoid being hit with it. A loud thumping sound echoed all over the bedroom as you sighed and watched all the photographs from the box scattered all over the floor.
The door opened rapidly, which startled you.
“Gee, Buck, I had no idea you could be that fast,” you chuckled, trying to crouch down to collect the photographs.
Your husband was a few shades paler as his eyes were widened. He approached you and grabbed you by your shoulders, making you straighten your back. You furrowed your brow at him.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
“Something fell down. I was scared it was you,” he admitted as his eyes scanned you up and down as if he didn’t believe your assuring words.
“I’m fine, Buck. It was the box. I tried to reach for it,” you told him.
“You should have called for me,” his tone was serious, nearly scolding. You sighed and rolled your eyes.
“I didn’t want to bother you. But now, when you’re here… You can help me to pick them up,” you proposed and Buck nodded without a word. Always eager to help and making sure you don’t overwork yourself even if it was a task as easy as this one.
He handed you the empty box and sat you down on the edge of your bed before crouching down and picking up the photographs. He was handing you them one after another and you could watch with a gentle smile all the beautiful memories that were there.
“What did you even need that box for?” He asked.
“I felt a little sentimental,” you told him as your lips curled into a smile at the sight of your wedding picture.
“Next time you feel a little sentimental, you call for me to help you,” Buck muttered to himself. He wasn’t really angry but you could hear his nervousness, still scared for you even though nothing had happened.
“You know, I got used to doing everything on my own,” you carelessly commented as you placed the picture inside the box and reached your hand out for another one. But there was none, so you lowered your eyes to meet your husband’s gaze. He was staring at you with his beautiful blue eyes but they were suddenly filled with pain and guilt.
“I’m sorry I left you for such a long time. I never meant to,” he whispered.
“Oh, Gale, baby, I didn’t mean it this way…” You bit on your lower lip and held his hand to pull him closer. He sat up on the bed next to you, clumsily – which was unusual for him. He put his arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. “I don’t blame you for that, love. I’m glad you came back to me, doesn’t matter how long it took,” you assured him as you caressed the back of his head. “What I’m saying is, I learnt how to be independent. And sometimes…” You hesitated, not sure if you should finish the sentence. “And sometimes I forget you’re back home,” you finally added and took a deep breath in. “I’m upstairs, doing something and a noise from the living room startles me… Only then I remember that my husband is back with me,” you turned your head to place a kiss upon his forehead.
Buck looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the tears welled in his eyes. You cupped his face to caress his scars gently and you gazed back at him, hoping he could see all the love in your own eyes, because words seemed to only make it worse.
He was home for nearly a year now but it took time to accept his presence once again. Just like it had been difficult to accept his absence after his departure.
“Here, can you feel it?” You quickly grabbed his hand and put it on your swollen bump as the baby inside you moved. You smiled at your husband through your tears and saw his face lighten up again. “I can’t wait for the nurse to hand you Baby Cleven. You’re going to be an amazing daddy,” you told him.
“Only time can tell,” Buck sighed.
“No, I just know it, baby,” you assured him. “Just like you’re an amazing husband,” you added. “Now, hand me the rest of the pictures and let’s just put that box away, hm?” You encouraged him and he nodded before leaning in to peck your lips and then moving back to the carpet to give you the rest of the scattered photographs.
Once you were done with it, you went downstairs with Buck and walked into the kitchen since it was time to prepare the supper.
“I’ll do it,” Gale insisted.
“I’m pregnant, not sick,” you chuckled. “I can handle making my husband a sandwich. I like taking care of you,” you shook your head and approached the counter to take the bread out but Buck followed you.
“Let me help at least,” he put his hands on his hips, completely lost at what to do.
“It is not complicated, Major Cleven. You just slice bread and put whatever you want on top,” you laughed. “Well, you can make tea if you really want to do something,” you nodded at him and he smiled.
As eager to help as a child wanting to assist their mother. You found it adorable in a way, or perhaps those were your hormones speaking.
“You know,” Buck started suddenly, “I’m reading that book about babies and I am really worried about some things.”
“You what?” You stopped slicing the bread for a moment as you froze and looked at him in disbelief. A slight blush on his cheeks was making your heart swell.
“I’m reading a book about babies. The one for fathers that was recommended by the doctor,” he explained.
“It was only a recommendation, baby. You’re probably the only man who actually bought it,” you laughed lovingly at him. All your friends who had been lucky to get pregnant before you, had been telling you many stories about their husbands not wanting to participate in anything baby-related. And here he was, your dear husband, Major Gale Cleven… Who had actually bought a book about babies recommended by a doctor. “You’re one in a million, baby. Just reminding me every day why I love you,” you quickly caressed his arm just in case you had embarrassed him accidentally with your reaction. “What were you worrying about?”
“There are just so many things that can go wrong. And it’s scaring me,” Buck admitted quietly, avoiding your gaze. “Things beyond my control. I can try my best and still not be able to prevent them from happening.”
“That’s what life is like, my dear. I thought you’d know it by now,” you hugged him and caressed his back. “But we’re together in this. We can do it. And the things that are beyond our control… Well, they’re beyond our control. We shouldn’t worry about them now. Why focus on the bad things?” You tried to cheer him up.
“What if I lose you?” He asked, his voice breaking.
“You won’t, I promise,” you took a step back to look into his eyes.
“You can’t promise me that,” Buck bit on his lower lip as his jaw clenched; all in effort to stop himself from crying again.
“You couldn’t promise me either. When you were going to Europe, you promised you would be back. But how could you know that? I remembered what one of my friends had told me. Them pilots die like flies, she said. But I refused to listen to her because you…” You put your hand on his chest. “You gave me a promise. And I know my man doesn’t break his word,” you looked up with a gentle smile.
“And…” Buck cleared his throat. “And the little one?” He asked, nearly naively. You chuckled softly and placed his hand on your bump again. The baby moved as if they knew they had been addressed.
“The little one promises to be alright, too, daddy,” you assured your husband. “Now, let’s make these sandwiches, mummy’s hungry,” you bopped him on the nose.
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Buck was watching you sitting on the edge of the bed and putting a lotion on your legs, belly and arms. Pregnant or not, he loved to admire you as you were performing your little rituals. When you were done, you laid back on the pillows and sighed.
“Can you imagine that in three months we’ll have Baby Cleven with us?” You asked with a soft smile.
“No,” he admitted in a whisper. “Truth to be told, I can barely believe you’re my wife.”
“Don’t be daft,” you caressed his hair. “Come here, tell us a goodnight story?” You proposed and Buck nodded as he lowered himself to place a kiss on your bump and lay his head next to it. He put his arms around your waist and closed his eyes, savouring the sweet and intimate moment.
“Which story, love?” He asked, gently caressing your bump.
“The one about a princess waiting for her knight to come back from the war?” You asked. It was a story Buck had made up some time ago for your little baby, which was supposed to reflect the story of your child’s parents. But he was still working on the details, changing the plot here and there each time he was telling this story. You liked it not only because it was about the two of you but also because it was giving you a feeling of creating something together for the baby already. Even though Baby Cleven still needed three more months to grow under your heart, you already felt like a real family. There was not a day passing by when you were not grateful for your husband being so involved in the whole process.
“I thought you’d be sick of that story by now,” Buck chuckled.
“No, I will never be sick of it,” you assured him as your fingers brushed through his golden hair. “And I hope Baby Cleven will want to listen to it every day, too.”
“I highly doubt that,” Buck muttered with his face pressed to your bump, kissing it one more time.
“We’ll make up another story then. And then another. And another. I’m sure we’ll come up with dozens of amazing ones. We can make it a family tradition. What do you think?” You asked and he looked up at you. You couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful he was at that moment, with his eyes filled with love and admiration, letting himself be vulnerable and soft in your arms.
“I think it’s a beautiful idea,” he nodded.
“Wait, let me grab a notebook,” you reached out to the bedside table to get a notepad and a pen. “Let’s start writing them down.”
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MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST
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daisiescomelate · 9 months ago
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Love ink
Prompt: Sukuna asks you to get matching tattoos for Valentine's day.
div. cafekitsune
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You noticed Sukuna was acting kind of odd. He had been avoiding your eyes all day and scratching the back of his neck enough for it to go red.
"Is everything okay?" You asked him after lunch. He was cleaning the dishes while you were scrabbling the grocery list for the week on the kitchen table. There was no damned pen in the house that wasn't dry, many of them scattered around you. It had taken you fifteen minutes to find a marker that worked properly.
You had been trying to ask him if there was anything else he thought you needed to add and all his answers had being a variation of 'don't know'.
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"You are acting... strange today."
"Strange how?", he said and turned around for a second before quickly looking forward again when your eyes met each other.
"That."
"What?"
"What you just did."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
You narrowed your eyes at him. It was the first time in a while that he curse at you like that.
"You did something." It was a statement.
"What?"
"You are anxious."
"I'm not."
"You cheated."
"I did not." That was enough for him to throw the dishes into the sink and turn his full body to face you.
"If it's not that then why are you so scared to tell me." You said, not really believing Sukuna had done anything particularly bad but looking to fire him up enough so he would tell you. It was hard to make Sukuna talked when he didn't want to but you always wanted to hear it, even if it meant you would have to make him scream it to you at your face.
Sukuna clenched his jaw while staring at you from his place next to the sink, then lightly blushed. You blinked.
"'s Valentine's day next week."
You blinked again.
"Yes, indeed."
"You said to do something I wanted."
Oh!
You stood up and crossed the few steps that separated you from him. You wrapped your arms around him and smiled.
"Yes, baby! You always ask me what I want to do for Valentine's day. This year should be all yours. Did you think of something already?" You kissed his cheek and his blush increased. Moving his gaze away from you again to look at a random spot on the wall he murmured,
"Tattoo."
"What?" You looked at him confused, "You want a new tattoo?". You didn't get it. Frowning your eyebrows you asked, "You want me to go with you to get a new tattoo?"
The blushed crept all the way up to his ears and he still didn't look at you.
You sighed. "I mean... I wasn't expecting that but if that's what you want to do, of course! Do you want another big tattoo, is that it? Like a full session of a few hours, is that why you want me there?"
Sukuna cleared his throat and finally, finally looked at you in the eyes. With a little bit of hesitation but pushing his words with intent out of himself he said,
"I want matching tattoos."
"Matching tattoos?" You echoed as if he had suddenly spat some foreign words to you.
"Like a couples tattoo." He clarified.
"Okay, wait-"
"You don't want to." It wasn't a question.
With a strange look in his eyes, Sukuna removed your arms off his neck and turned back around to returned to the task he had abandoned before.
You were frozen in place, eyes wide. The stiffness in his shoulders brought you quickly back, and this time you hugged him from behind, trying to be careful with your words.
"Sorry, love. You just caught me off guard. Don't be sad, please. You know what, lets do it." You hugged him tighter. "I don't have to think about it, I really want to be with you forever and ever, love." You planted kissed on his back until you felt him relax a little bit.
"What do you want it to be?" You continued, "A heart will be cute... or two birds. Honestly I think we should do something a little bit more symbolic, something that would represent us better like-"
"Our names."
Another right hook to your stomach.
"Our names?!" You squiked.
Sukuna was facing you again, this time using the puppy eyes that he had learned by accident made you so weak to his demands.
He pulled you closer to his chest and surrounded you with his arms. Your faces were an inch apart. He moved his right hand so it would slip under your shirt and with the tip of his fingers he traced a line on your lower back. "Mine here", he said in a low, raspy voice. The heat of his touch and the dept of his tone made you knees weak.
He moved so his breath would be next to your ear as he whispered his next line.
"And you can pick where yours goes on me."
Knockout.
You felt like a deer on the headlights in between his touch and his proposition.
He could see how much you struggled with the idea in your eyes.
"Why not?", he said a kiss away from your lips in a pout. Sukuna's manipulative tendencies had never disappeared since you met, they just had evolved into something more dangerous.
"Think about it" he said holding you closer looking down at your mouth and whispering as if he were sharing a secret with your lips.
"Do you want your name over my heart?" He gave a step forward, forcing you to step back.
"On the back of my neck?"
Step.
"On my tight?"
Step.
"Where everyone can see or where only you can see?"
Step. Step.
"Where do you picture it?"
Step.
Table.
He had you trapped.
"I don't know, It-It sounds like a very important decision. Let me think it over for a bit." You stuttered, knowing how dangerous it could be to hold your weight against the table.
Sukuna raised his eyes from your lips and look directly at you. You knew that look. That determination. He had an idea. Oh, no.
"Then why don't we run some tests?" He said. He moved his arms forward consequently pushing you to sit over the table. Closer and closer, his weight falling over you.
You closed your eyes, expectantly.
A moment later, he retreated.
You opened your eyes again but slowly. Sukuna stood straight in front of you with a black marker in his hand right in front of your face.
"See where you like it better." He said with a devilish smile, all teeth.
You stared at the marker as if it could bite.
Damn devil.
With a sigh, you took it from him and took off the cap.
Long story shot, a week later your diabolical boyfriend got want he wanted.
N/A: no proofread, sorry. Where would you put his tattoo? 🤭 Definitely somewhere visible for me 😏 Thank you for reading!
Masterlist of fics
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spiderfunkz · 7 months ago
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heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw
✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.
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summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!
word count : 0,7k
contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.
a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize
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"hey, peter!"
you waved cheerfully,
it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.
you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.
but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.
you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.
"hi!" peter waved.
you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.
"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.
you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."
he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.
sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.
"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,
"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."
"you sure?"
he nods.
"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.
peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.
"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."
"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"
he shakes his head, smiling.
he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.
you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.
it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.
it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.
though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?
you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.
suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.
peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.
"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."
you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!
"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.
you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"
peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.
you smile, "i'd love to."
he looks up, shocked. "really?"
"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.
peter smiles.
he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.
"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."
you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.
"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."
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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year ago
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for a conrad x reader request- could you do one where conrad is just really overwhelmed and stressed out and just needs comfort and physical touch?
When I saw this hug in the trailer, my heart could not handle it. He looks so soft and sad and- It's probably one of my favorite moments
warnings: mention of cancer, sad!conrad
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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You knew something was off with Conrad when you received five calls in the past three days. 
This was a stark contrast to his usual pattern of calling you every night since he started college. Despite telling him it wasn’t necessary to call every night and prioritize his studies, Conrad was insistent that it wouldn't affect his grades.
During your calls, you noticed a change in his demeanor. He seemed distant and unengaged, merely listening to you without his usual laughter at your humor, which raised further suspicions that something was off. You suspected it was related to Susannah. She started this new treatment a few weeks ago and Conrad didn’t like being away from her. It worried him to be so far away from her.
You wanted to surprise him. Sparks some happiness into his sad eyes and bottles up hardships.
You stood on the other side of his dorm door, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You wanted everything to go perfectly, knowing that the impact of your surprise could mean so much to Conrad in his current state.
What if his roommate doesn’t want you there and gets into an argument with Conrad? What if Conrad doesn’t want you there? 
Your stomach twisted into a knot. 
Pushing those thoughts aside, you took a deep breath and gently knocked on the door, your heart pounding with anticipation as you waited. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Conrad's tired but surprised expression. 
‘’What are you doing here? I was just about to call.’’ 
You gave him a soft smile. ‘’This is much better than a phone call, isn’t it?’’ 
He nodded, the corner of his mouth curling slightly despite his overall tired appearance. The dark circles under his eyes could be from school alone, but this wasn’t just from getting less hours of sleep. His gaze was distracted, absent, by times. 
Like now.
‘’Are you gonna invite me in or do I have to camp outside your dorm?’’ you asked, snapping Conrad out of his thoughts.
‘’Oh, eh…yeah, sorry.’’ He stepped aside, inviting you in. ‘’I had a class at 8am, my brain is a bit tired.’’ 
It was a lie. But you didn’t say anything. 
‘’My roommate is at some frat party,’’ Conrad explained, closing the door and locking it. ‘’Shouldn’t be here until late. Very late. Unless he crashes at Deborah’s dorm.’’ 
You nodded, setting your bag on the floor on Conrad’s side of the room. It was small for two people, but what were you expecting? It’s a college dorm.
A frown formed when you saw how untidy Conrad’s space was. There was a mess of papers and textbooks scattered around on his desk, indicating the stress he was under with his studies, and the dirty laundry basket was full and spilled onto the floor a little. This was so unlike him. 
On his nightstand, you noticed a piece of photobooth strip and smiled. You took these at the mall last spring, right before Conrad overheard his parents and learned about Susannah’s cancer. It was the last time you saw him truly happy. The last time his mother’s health wasn’t constantly in the back of his mind. 
‘’You keep a picture of us by your bed,’’ you pointed out, picking up the photobooth strip. 
Conrad turned his head toward you. ‘’Yeah,’’ he admitted, rubbing his palms over his blue jeans. 
You set the photobooth strip back to its place and slowly stepped toward Conrad. Through the phone, he could hide behind his many walls, but in person, it was easy for you to see that he wasn't okay. You could see right through him.
‘’Connie? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?’’ 
Conrad nodded as he lowered his head. 
He tried to put on a brave front, but deep down, he wanted nothing more than to fall apart in your arms and stay there forever. Life had become such a heavy weight lately, he wasn't sure he could deal with it.
‘’Come here.’’ You drew him close and, like pieces falling into places, his arms wrapped around you and he rested his head on your shoulder with a vulnerability only you was allowed to see him in. You raised a hand to his shoulder, soothingly rubbing his back.  ‘’Nothing is alright,’’ he admitted, his arms tightening around you, seeking comfort and reassurance.
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leossmoonn · 1 year ago
Note
Hey do you think you could write about like the reader having an attitude when she comes home from work and mikey fucks the attitude out of her?
18+ under the cut - includes: cut to sex scene, unprotected sex. abby is like at a friends house or smth so dw just bc she’s not mentioned doesn’t mean she’s in the house
this is actually the worst thing i ever wrote im sorry but this is all i could give
you slam the door shut once you get inside. you kick off your shoes rather roughly, practically throwing your keys on the coffee table. mike looks to you, a little taken aback by your demeanor. usually he’s the one coming home throwing things and stomping around. it’s not like you’re a happy-go-lucky person, but you’re not one to be this upset about something unless it’s really bad.
and honestly, you didn’t know what you were upset about. it just seemed like today was the worst day in your entire life. you’d woken up late, didn’t get to eat breakfast, had the worst lunch ever, your meetings at work were a waste of time, and traffic was bad. the list could truly go on. so you weren’t really in the mood to plant a smile on your face and pretend like you weren’t irritated.
“hey, how was work?” mike asks. “fine,” you huff, walking to your shared bedroom. you change out of your work clothes, feeling as though they were suffocating and uncomfortable all day.
mike stands up from the couch, following you. “are you sure it was fine?”
“yes, mike!” you shout. “can you just drop it?”
mike reaches out to touch your arm. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”
you twist your arm out of his grip, feeling like every little thing could just set you off. “i said i’m fine.” you try to keep your cool, but you can feel anger bubbling up inside of you.
“you can talk to me, you know. i’m here for you.”
“i don’t want to talk!” you yell. “just leave me alone for fucks sake!”
mike blinks at you like you just killed somebody. “o-kay,” he says after a long pause. “sorry for checking up on you,” he mumbles.
you groan, “can you not play the self-pity, nice-guy card?”
“i’m not! this is genuinely how i feel! imagine if the roles were reversed. you’d be feeling pretty shitty, too, right?”
“no because i’d know to leave you alone,” you say matter-of-factly.
“well, i’m not going to leave you alone.”
“why?” you ask, ready to throw something.
“because i believe that you need to tell me what’s wrong so you can not have an attitude.”
“well, if you’re just going to pester me, then i’ll just leave.” you slip on a pair of slippers that are by your bed, grabbing a jacket and heading out of the bedroom.
“where are you going?” he asks. “anywhere but here!” you shout.
“you can’t just run away! you’re starting to act like me.”
“yeah, well, maybe i need to not be around you for a while, then!”
mike rolls his eyes at you, knowing you’re just saying all this because you’re mad at him for some reason. he knows he should’ve left you alone, but now the conversation has gone too deep for him to just give up.
as you put a hand on the door, mike grabs your wrist and yanks you back.
“let go, mike. i’m a grown woman and can do what i want.”
“which is precisely why you’re staying here.” he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowed with determination. his grip on you is tight, but not harmful. there are small beads of sweats lining his forehead and his cheeks are slightly flushed from becoming worked up. his eyes are wide and pupils blown out, meaning that he’s been thinking of you in some way in between your fight.
“make me,” you say lowly, in almost a whisper.
you’re on top of the kitchen counter now, sweatpants and panties scattered on the ground. mike’s shirt is somewhere in the living room along with his belt. his jeans are pooled around his legs as he leans against the counter. your nails are digging into his shoulders, head thrown back and rubbing against the cabinets. mike’s face is buried into your neck, pants and whimpers becoming muffled into your skin. his cock is throbbing inside of you as your walls clamp down around him.
“mike, oh! right there, yes!” you moan, your eyes rolling behind your eyelids. he’s balls deep inside of you as he hits that spot expertly.
“fuck, baby. you feel so good,” he mumbles into your shoulder. he can feel your heart thud in your chest as he presses up against you. the sweat on your bodies mix as he thrusts faster. you wrap your legs around his waist, seemingly pulling him in tighter, making him push deeper inside of you. your hands grip his hair as you feel yourself orgasm and you cry out his name.
you feel him come inside of you in hot spurts, coming to a complete stop as he finishes. you both groan as he slips out of you. he grabs a piece of paper towel and wipes up his cum that’s running down your leg.
you’re still huffing and puffing, savoring the feeling of the cold wood and granite on your back and legs. mike gives you a small smile and you lean down and kiss his cheek.
“not so stressed now, huh?” he remarks. you roll your eyes and punch his shoulder. “it’s just a coincidence.”
“mm, maybe i should try this next time then and see if it correlates,” he says.
“maybe you should.”
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zoropookie · 5 months ago
Text
SWEET MELODY
☆ chapter four — gtfo watching madagascar (🎂)
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You had high hopes for how this would go, at least.
Sitting in your car and mindlessly driving to the very house you spent a lot of your childhood in was daunting. The familiar road stretched ahead, winding through the streets on your journey like a thin ribbon of what you wanted to know well, but couldn't fully. You couldn't bring yourself to look on the sides of you just yet, not looking for any lack of preparation.
Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as you took a sharp breath in. You parked the car, and sat there in the daylight of the hour. Your eyes darkened, moving your head down as you slumped back in your seat. Your shoulders down, and your general disposition horrible.
You didn't want to look up, because it was just how you remembered it. And if you were able to remember that, then by that jurisdiction, there was a 95% chance that this was part of your life that you just dug up again.
You pictured it as clearly as it stood: a quaint, two-story home with the front porch that you had your first kiss on, adorned with hanging baskets of vibrant violets that were picked from the hanging nature of the home. Looking to be inviting, yet intimidating. Tree-lined streets with overgrown lawns, and kids bicycles scattered haphazardly on adjacent driveways, the scent of cut grass filling your sinuses. You found yourself in a both comforting and disconcerting mood.
You sat in your car, staring blankly at the dashboard with the glee you had from cleaning your shop wiped off your face. "You can do this," You exhaled. "You can do this."
The trees, thick with summer foliage and vines draped on the walls, casting dappled shadows on the seemingly new asphalt. You drove through that road for the first time today instead of walking, hoping in your head that the rapid beating of your heart would cease soon. The air was full with the smell of blooming nature.
Gathering your resolve that presented itself in small and opposing glass shards to you, you opened your car door and stepped out. The crunch of gravel on your feet as you hurriedly took the gift of well prepared strawberry pies made small enough to be bite-sized. The sun blazed on you promptly, but nothing could take the chills on your skin.
You walked up the path, the looming front door with its always new paint that seemed to never chip under Ei’s rule was waiting for you. Your eyebrows furrowed in total dread, you bated your breath only for exactly who you figured to open the door once you rang the doorbell.
“(Y/N).” Ei stood there beautifully, but it was still surreal seeing her look the exact same as she did years ago. Her warm, welcoming smile and her eyes twinkling, except this time, it was of nostalgic wonder. “Did you find it okay? I did a lot more work from when you were here last.”
“Yeah, no! It looks…” Your eyes wandered, trying to find the right words to say before giving up. “It looks amazing, Miss Ei. No wonder why I used to really like playing royalty here.”
Ei stepped back promptly. “Come in. You can set your treats on the table.”
“Thank you,” You greeted her politely, walking into the home with the familiar and faint scent of lavender and old wood corrupting your nose. You knew the years have gone by, justice how it hardly looks the same from when you were a kid.
“You’ll find a lot of old items in different places now, my apologies. A lot of my appliances needed updating, so the kitchen is quite different now.” She explained from the main hall, setting up comfortable pillows for you to sit.
“This is really lovely…everything’s exactly in your style.” You marveled to yourself, before snapping out of it and setting the treats on the counter. “I’m sorry, Miss Ei. I didn’t mean to wander.” You laughed nervously.
“My home is your home, to this day.” She still presented you the same adoring smile she did as you sat down. “Yae won’t be here for another hour. In the meantime, I suppose we should discuss what you’re comfortable doing at my wedding.”
You sighed in relief. “Oh, Miss Ei. I actually did come here as well to see if you could pull some strings for me too regarding that, but it looks like you were ten steps ahead of me!” You laughed, always seemingly nervous. “I just didn’t want to betray your wishes…you mean a lot to me.”
“As do you, which leads me to believe that…” Ei sighed to herself promptly. “I did get a little carried away in your honor. Being so excited seeing you and reliving what I once knew felt euphoric. But as it turns out…I’m doubtful things are able to be that way at all.”
“I don’t think that’s true, to be at your side at all is a really amazing request considering the circumstances!” You smiled. “Please don’t worry about the outcome, you should feel the most relaxed at your own wedding, okay?”
You tried to ignore the heavy weight crushing you.
The former shook her head. “It is not that I am worried about,” She paused, her tone a bit more sullen than what was normal. “By chance on that day he went to your home, did he say anything he shouldn’t have?”
You blinked, and as soon as you realized what she asked, you stopped moving. Instead of feeling like your limbs were attempting to make up for the lack of brain space you had, you felt like you were struggling to stay afloat. “Uh,” You stammered, feeling your body tremble. “I’m sorry,” You replied carefully before your voice dropped to a low murmur, “Don’t really remember a lot…I don’t think he did, though.”
“Is it truly that?” Ei’s expression softened, but there was something else that you couldn’t quite place before— she looked concerned, perhaps, maybe regret. “It’s very important that you’re honest to me.”
You were unease, but not because of her. There was something you weren’t letting yourself remember, and instead of mulling on it, you forced a smile for Ei. “Everything is okay with me, I promise, Miss Ei. The last thing I want is to burden you both…I plan to make your wedding perfect.”
The mothers nodded slowly, but her eyes lingered on you, as if looking for something else that your face betrayed of you. “I understand,” she replied softly, before sighing with a melancholy undertone. “You are a very selfless person, there is nothing to pinpoint about you that would make you a bad person. It’s unfair how life treats the wise, isn’t it?”
Before you were about to respond, the sound of the front door opening drew the attention of the two of you. You turned, and immediately everything that you ever said was forgotten the minute that the outstanding and intimidating presence of Ei’s very son, Kunikuzushi, was standing there with his suitcase. His presence ever commanding and rough.
“Fuck are they doing here?” He asked, as if you were a speck of dust he had no trouble in not paying mind to.
“They are here to help me plan my wedding. One that you have no interest in helping me in, so I’d suggest you keep your snide comments to yourself.” Ei’s tone was direct, almost like a warning shot to him. She stared at him with much more intensity than she ever would you.
“You have no business inviting non-family to your little event, you’re just interested in pissing me off.” His words dug into you like it was a knife plunging into your core. “I mean, what can they even offer you that isn’t equivalent to a fart in the wind?”
“They are family. It is my wedding, Kunikuzushi, and I may do what I please. I may invite who I please, and if you don’t like who I invite, you are happy to do clean up. Less chances of you ever having to see who you don’t want there, is it?”
“Family to who, a dead mom and probably an even deader brother?” He couldn’t help but chortle, before the sheer velocity of a slipper Ei strikes against the center of his nasion, groaning in pain as he stood there for a long time recovering.
“Go,” Ei’s voice was louder. “I had my doubts that you’d actually be civil, but this is ridiculous. It’d be in your best interest not to come out until the both of us are gone.”
Your heart burned in your chest, a fire that wasn’t to be put out. With each silent and shallow breath you took, the harder it was to grasp. Especially when his piercing eyes took a gander at you, before sizing you up quietly. You refused to look him in the eye, narrowing them down.
He could only scoff and wince from how much pain shot through his face, a small and aggravating smile appeared on his lips. His attention turned back to Ei, “Didn’t know you were interested in inviting the circus to your wedding. I would have brought better farm animals, if that were the case.”
“I’m not interested in your suggestions, you have severely agitated me. Go unpack, and leave us to our conversation.” Ei spat. “You should not even be back right now, it is hours before sunset.”
Your eyes never rang that much, the universe around you blurring and fading as the intense and high-pitched sound began dominating every sense you had. It had you feel like you were submerged in a deep and murky water, a muffled and distant echo of their conversation playing out.
Heartbeat echoing in your ears, a counterpoint to the endlessness of your own ears failing you. You squeezed your eyes in pain, finding solace in at least the darkness, your head wandering with thoughts that you didn't think you'd ever have. Vision wavering, the edges of your sight blurred as the ringing became even more insistent. Your own body was failing you.
Safe to say, you couldn't do this.
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previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next
THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.
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@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy
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wherenymphsroam · 3 months ago
Text
don’t say it’s unholy, if I let you come hold me (pt 1)
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⟡ -- leon finds you drowning your grief in the back of a bar just outside of town. but don't worry, he won't blow your cover.
w/c: 2.1k
warnings: themes of coping with grief and depression, implied underage drinking and unhealthy coping mechanisms, vendetta leon, leon is just a wee bit morally grey here just due to the point in his life this is staged during, no sex but explicit language, leon is readers dad's coworker/friend, angst - eventual sex
a/n: okay, I've been sitting on this baby for a hot minute just because of how self indulgent it is iaqhdsiuwsjih. I wanted to make this longer before I released it, but I think I'm going to just continue this in parts (and even then, don't hold me to that lol judgwiuhd !!). again, please heed warnings, and if you are uncomfortable with any themes presented, please just don't read!
playlist: unholy (hey violet), disconnect (she wants revenge), discipline (nine inch nails), paralyzer (finger eleven)
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You shouldn’t be here.
By all legal and ethical means, morality aside, you should be at the library, studying for a final you know damn well you won’t be passing. Or better yet, at home. Maybe poured over a mug of tea, that blend your mom has made you since you were a kid. Some shitty romcom playing in the background, ignored as you doze off surrounded by papers, scattered around the dining table like any other honorable, dutiful college student. Not some… dingy, shithole bar outside the parameters of your hometown.
(One you know your dad doesn’t frequent with colleagues. One you know is just outside the radius of people that would see you here, know you enough to know you shouldn’t be here.)
Maybe you would be back home right now, studying until you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, if not for what happened. The “would’ve” “could’ve” and “should’ve”s are stacked high in your brain, like a mountain of now unattainable possibilities laid bare, slain by the events of recent nights. Something so chilling, so bone shattering and brain dissolving you just can’t manage to wrap your head around it. 
‘Shock’, right? 
That was the operative term for the numbness that has recently buzzed dully in your limbs, the heaviness of your own weight whenever you roll out of bed every day. The term itself is thrown around so flippantly, so easily outside the walls of a hospital, a clinic. General medical common knowledge be damned, everyone knows what shock is.
'Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. Generations passed down worth of indoctrination gone moot by one, unholy union. It’s coming home and finding your husband in bed with another woman, that blonde bitch at his front desk. The one he told you not to worry about? Yeah, that one. 
It’s the unspeakable, the unimaginable striking. It’s blinding, horrid in how it leaves you.. Empty. You’re compelled to apologize for its effects on your nervous system.
Sorry guys, I promise I’m sad. I know I don’t look it, I’m taking it out on all this- shit lying around. I’ve been meaning to throw this out for ages you know. Guess I finally have a reason now, huh? No, I don’t know how much sleep I’ve gotten the past week, it’s probably fine. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. That’ll make me feel worse. Now, if you would, let me go finish my manic episode in peace, will you-?
Could you blame this too as to why you finally dug out that fake ID your friends coerced you into agreeing to?
This wasn’t like you, not one bit. I mean, really, sitting in the back of some gnarly bar, surrounded with the sorts of people Daddy always warned you about? The sorts of people that only came out after dark, that hung around till dawn when they would then go back to dwell in whatever crevice of the city they called home until dusk? Maybe this was moms genes catching up with you – the predisposed ones you always knew would come to bite you in the ass. Maybe you should go check your eyes, don’t people's pupils dilate when they’re manic? “Crazy eyes'' those people on Tiktok would call them, right? 
“Unwidin’, huh?”
His voice calls through the air between you like he might’ve well been standing yards away. It takes you a moment longer than maybe appropriate to track his distance, his place at your side at the bartop. Glancing over, you first get a look at his hand, gesturing to the drink in front of you, the cigarette dangling between your fingers. The one that was currently beginning to slip in your weakened grip, speaking of. 
They’re long, nimble. Broad hands, worn at the tips, smooth along the meat of his palms. Even under the hazy atmosphere surrounding you, you can make out the glint of the watch up his sleeve – probably expensive, if the quality of the leather of his jacket sleeve has anything to say about it. Look at you. Even buzzed like this, you were spotting the finer details. A daddy’s girl with daddy’s tolerance.
Despite yourself, you nod numbly, head heavy on the bracket of your neck. A sign directly arguing with the idea of your tolerance – or rather, lack thereof – but it can't be as noticeable as your brain is attempting to trick you into believing, right?
Leon settles into the stool next to you, and you don’t so much as cast him a proper glance. Maybe that’s why he finds himself sitting down. You looked out of place, like a damn kicked puppy with your head drowning in a few shots worth in the back of this bar. It was a wonder no one else had approached you up till this point, especially given the time of night. It was hard not to feel like your guardian angel. 
“We both know this ain’t the healthiest way to do it.” He says as he flags the bartender down.
Touche, mystery man. 
Well, alright. Technically you knew the guy. You vaguely recognized him as one of Dad’s colleagues through the haze of your buzz. It was too sweet to interrupt, you find yourself completely unfazed in the face of the inevitable consequences that would come from your fathers colleague finding you here.
If anything, you couldn’t complain.
His voice was nice. Beyond “nice” actually. If you were any more wasted, you’d take him for a certain type of actor. More specifically, the ones you listen to late at night. The ones that speak to you behind pseudonyms and expensive microphones, nestled into crevices of the internet any mentally stable person wouldn’t dream of wandering into.  
You know better than to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds, even despite the dregs of nicotine floating through your blood coaxing you towards such a mental image. 
Finally, you brave a glance over your shoulder at him. He’s pretty. Real pretty. How are you only just noticing how sharp his eyes are? They look darker under this bar's lighting, that typically professional, almost playful glint in his gaze nowhere to be found. It had been a few years since you’d last seen him… maybe it was age finally starting to jade him.
Not that you knew the specifics. He was easily older than you by a decade and some change. And clearly all too happy to bypass all niceties in this situation. Damn. Did you look that bad? He was pretty enough to be an angel, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he had a better head sitting on his shoulders than a better half of the people in here. 
A huff of soft breath leaves through your nose, tendrils of smoke swirling out of your system with the action. Shaking your head, you dip it, taking another long drag from your quickly burning cigarette, an excuse to try and string together some sort of response that won’t make an ass out of you. Or actually, anything that didn’t scream “you’re hot and I don’t know how to conduct myself around good natured, attractive men” would do just fine. Those damn eyes of his… it was a mistake, letting your gazes lock. His eyes alone were enough to make your stomach flip. 
“Well,” you mutter, not daring to look back at him. “This is better than my plan b for the night.” 
You don’t so much as flinch when the bartender comes over, taking an order he murmurs in a tone you want spoken against the shell of your ear from behind. Your periphery catches the actions of the bartender pouring his order into a short glass, bronze in color.
Whiskey. Of course.
Reaching for the middle of the table, you stub your cigarette in a conveniently placed ashtray. Sure, you were a little fucked up in a way you’ve never been before tonight, but you had manners. 
Meanwhile, Leon is doing what he does best. Observing. He tries his best not to make it obvious how he watches your hand wobbles when you lift it. He watched the subtle change in your expression when he called to you, how your head bobbed when he sat down. Anyone else would be paying attention to how quickly you recoiled with the action, as if self conscious of your dragged reaction time. However, he had spotted the tension in your slouched shoulders. A reaction rooted in self preservation, a fear of judgment. It was enough to tell him just how many shots you probably had in your system. 
He was no stranger to girls like you, ‘situations’ such as the one he was currently sitting next to.
It was a familiar, cliche dance – the unspoken, drowning struggles of a near stranger on display, insecurities risen to the surface like hemorrhaged blood under thinned skin. It was written all over you. You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strife to his blind eye, painting you transparent. He could see right through you. You were running from something. Likely attempting to drown, bury it somewhere deep if not for just a night or so. 
“‘Plan B’?” he questions, tone calm, even almost lighthearted. It betrays his sharp gaze, perceptive and on guard as ever. As if he were approaching an injured doe in the wild. Not that he’s done much hunting lately. He’s found that meat off the streets bleeds more freely than the skin of doe’s and rabbits does in present times. 
A wry smile tugs at your lips, almost as if you figured he’d press the topic. It was already too much to ask that he didn’t mention your connection to his coworker, how Leon knew you were definitely not supposed to be somewhere like this, and he had managed to uphold that silent prayer.
Maybe your otherwise handicapped condition was blurring whatever lines that stood between you right now, the lines that constructed what he should be doing, finding you here without a legitimate ID.  He should be outing you to the bartender, dragging you out of this place by the scruff of your neck with your dad dialed into his phone.
He shouldn’t be… entertaining you, right? Could you go so far as to call his complacent presence.. Encouragement?
Taking a seat beside you, joining you in your mission to drown your ache, your pain. Keeping you calm under his gaze, as if a sedative rolled off him in gentle waves. His throat bobs around his sip of whiskey, and you can’t help how your gaze lingers on the action. 
“Plan B consisted of finding someone to fuck me into next week,” you mutter dryly, as if the admission of your half hearted ‘plans’ for tonight left a sour taste in even your mouth. It wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t what you did. For fucks sake, you weren’t even supposed to have gotten this far, knee deep in an actively self destructive decision. But life sure did have one hell of a way of knocking you one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction, didn’t it?
No. That’s an excuse. A shitty one, at that. It's an excuse you've heard your dad mutter under his breath when he slouches into the couch with a beer in hand.
This is a poor choice, and you knew this was a poor choice. And yet, that didn’t stop you from walking your happy ass into this bar, nose up and full of talked up confidence you poured into yourself in the parking lot. No amount of tugging and pulling and pleading your guilty conscience did on your brain would stop you, not this time. You knew that getting into an Uber to haul you outside the lines of town would seal your fate to the whims of this bar. How classy. 
If Leon was a worse man, he’d take your words at face value. (Or maybe he’s just damned with all that thorough training he’s been rung through. It’s practically impossible not to read people nowadays. Even alcohol has ceased to debilitate him of this begrudgingly equipped set of skills that was all but pummeled into him.) 
His gaze wavers. Flickers, almost with a wash of amusement for a moment. You were trying oh so hard, taking that clipped, short tone with him, all but puffing your chest with this aura of  mental toughness you likely wanted to think you had. It was cute, really. But oh, the lacing of desperation in your tone... The sweet vulnerability in your breath… every hairline fracture your already cracking front is bleeding. 
He doesn’t have to be a bloodhound to want to dig for more. He just can’t help himself. 
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago
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Late Bloomer 3
Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)
Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)
Part of the Bad Professors AU
Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 
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You look at the grade on your quiz. It’s not the end of the world but it isn’t the best. And this course is negligible in the scheme of your degree, yet, you thought you were really getting this. It’s disappointing and you can do better. You will. 
As class lets out, you head down the centre aisle past the fleeing coeds. Most don’t stick around after the intense lectures. The whiteboard still shows the chaos of formulas as the professor closes his Mac. You approach nervously. 
“Professor Parker,” you greet. 
He turns and knocks over the cup of whiteboard markers. “Ah gee.” 
He rights the cup and you bend to catch the scatter that roll around your feet. He does the same on his side of the table. As you stand and slide them back into their place, he bats away a pesky curl form his forehead. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and gives a sheepish smile. You could cringe. He’s a professor and you just know he’s younger than you. 
“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 
“No, no, I was just thinking,” he grabs the cup as he shoves the rest of the markers inside. “How’s it going?” 
“Uh, yeah, it’s good. I was just...” you stop yourself. “I think I forgot your office hours. I was just going to ask for a little help going over my quiz but I don’t want to keep you--” 
“No, it’s fine,” he rattles the cup of markers then makes himself still. “I can help you know.” 
“Oh, okay,” you lay your quiz on the table. “I think I did pretty good but 4a really messed me up,” you flip the page and point.  
He leans to look over your work. He gently pushes aside the pen cup and reaches to his ear. He frees the pen behind it and bends over the table. He puts his weight on one elbow. You loom over him, crouching to watch him. 
He reaches up to pat his hair then pinches the arm of his glasses and chuckles, “already on. Oops.” 
You realise he’d been looking to pull his glasses down to his nose. He reminds you of Cerise sometimes. Come to think of it, she might do with a prescription herself. 
“Okay, I think I see what happened,” he taps with the tip of the pen. “Missed a step here.” You focus on the ink scrawling over in his tight writing. “But you were on the right track.” 
You take in his explanation patiently. When he looks up at you, his brown eyes surprise you. They're almost sparkling. 
“Right, thanks, I get it now,” you say. “Next time I’ll go over my work twice.” 
“Never hurts,” he stands and flips the front page over. He lifts it and hands it over. “You’ll be fine. It’s second year. Got my engineering degree no problem after flunking a course. Just had to put in a summer course.” 
“Oh, I’m not an engineering student,” you say. “But I do need the elective.” 
“No? Pretty good for not an engineering student.” 
“Art,” you supply. 
“Art? Wow. Not what I expected.” He muses. 
“I know. I’m gonna be working at a Starbucks in no time,” you kid. 
“No, that’s not... fair,” he protests. “What kinda art? Like, er, do you paint or whatever?” 
“I like to paint. Sketch... working on clayworks in one of my studios.” You say, “actually, I think you’ll laugh.” 
You bring your bag up and tuck away the quiz as you pull out your notebook. You open it and show him that day’s note. The margins are full of aimless doodles. 
“Oh, wow,” he admires your careless scribbles. “Bet you make all sorts of cool things. I’m not very good at drawing.” He glances over his shoulder at the whiteboard, “don’t know if it’s obvious.” 
His writing is narrow and bit all over but it’s legible. 
“Not that bad,” you assure him as you close up the notebook. “I meant to ask, how’s your leg?” 
“My leg? Oh yeah. It’s healing. Can’t say the same for the khakis. Lost cause,” he sighs. 
“Oh,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “well, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” 
“I swear, they built this place like a death trap. Too many stairs,” he clucks. 
You chuckle, “yeah, I could go for a bit less... but wouldn’t that be an engineer’s thing?” 
“Architects help...” He says defensively. 
“Alright, alright, I’m just kidding,” you haul your bag onto your shoulder. 
“Hey, I would argue we need some artists to pretty these things up. Buildings are so boring these days. You know, I went to Italy, all those marble columns and statues...” he says. “Not that I’m bragging. Just an observation I made. I went to some museums and saw paintings too. The DiCaprios... No Da Vinci! Oh god!” He slaps his forehead in embarrassment, “my brain is fried, I’m sorry.” 
“All good,” you assure him, “we’re all feeling it, I think.” You step back on your heel, “anyway, I think I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for the help.” 
“Any time. Everyone else runs away from me,” he says. “I’m still getting used to this ‘Professor’ thing.” 
“Well, you’re a really good teacher,” you assure him, “I should go.” 
“Right, see ya next class,” he says. 
“Sure, see ya then,” you give a tiny wave and retreat.  
You turn and climb the centre stairs to the rear exit. You open the door and glance back. He’s watching you. Caught, he coughs and turns back to the board and searches for the erase. He starts to wipe out the numbers and you leave him to his clean up.  
You have time before you can stop by the studio. Enough to eat something or get a coffee. It’s only week two and you’re wondering how you’re going to get through the rest of it. Especially with your overnight shifts in between. 
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