#She Just Desperately Wishes He'd Stop Going

[dee-in-the-box]

y'know, going back to my girl Fujiko and her relationship with Dave...post-Henry coming into their lives, their relationship was more toxic, but uh. Not For The Reasons You'd Think It Would Be

[snail-day]

Family Matters

I fear my brain worms have moved onto:

Yan! Choso x Reader x Yan! Yuki

Tw: Yandere Behaviors, Somno, Captivity, Power Imbalance, Mentions of drugging, Stockholm Syndrome, Overstimulation, Creampies, Full nelson, Dubcon/Noncon. MDNI

a/n: This was supposed to be short and sweet. I believe the brain worms munched a little too hard :)

You’d like to think Choso never meant for this all to happen. That the whole situation was due to his own desire to start a family. That if it were up to him, you’d be somewhere far from here, curled up with a book and not wrapped between his arms while he whispers sweet apologies into your skin.

However, Yuki did all the dirty work and brought you here. Who decided you were perfect for them. Choso wanted a family, and she didn't want to give up her freedom. You'd give her that. Though kidnapping doesn't seem like the best solution to that problem, but maybe you were just a bit more sane. Who knows.

Yuki’s always been a hunter. A visionary. She wouldn’t go for someone stronger; no, she chose you precisely because you weren’t. Soft and pliant, someone who reminded her of a rabbit caught between wolves. And now you’re here. While it took a while to get Choso on board, he eventually had to give in.

He never imagined himself sharing. Always thought he'd be monogamous. But when his lover comes home cradling you like a prize, whispering about how sweet you’d be (once tamed), how you'd look tucked into their bed? How could he say no?

Especially when you’re so cute when you cry. When you're sleepy from all the drugs she put into your system, not clawing or screaming every time he tries to hold you. Dragging you out from under the bed by your ankles so he can cradle you and stroke your hair nestled in the various blankets. Because when you're quiet, well, he can pretend. Pretend you want this, too.

It’s Choso who cherishes the naps. Who likes the way your weight sinks against him, your breathing slow and warm on his chest. Yuki’s always moving, training, exploring, and hunting down her next thrill. But Choso? He’s a sleepy homebody. He’s selfish when it comes to cuddling. You’ll try to wriggle away, always so defiant, but eventually you give in. Huffing and puffing as he releases a sigh, breathes in the scent of you as you melt into his arms, quiet for once. Humming against your temple, gentle fingers stroking through your hair, tender lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. You sometimes wonder if he wishes Yuki were a bit softer. Less adventurous. Maybe then he wouldn't be so devoted to clinging onto you.

But you realize you don't know much about him as he doesn't understand much about you. Perhaps it's the curse in him, but he doesn't exactly understand why you cry so much. You're being loved. Taken care of. What more could you possibly want? How much of the world does he have to give you?

It’s only when you’re tired that you stop trying to claw your way free. When you’re drowsy, limp, vulnerable that Choso can’t help but admire you. That peaceful little face… it makes something ache inside of him. Ache and throb. Precum stains his pants, his cock pressed hard against your thigh, and before he knows it, his hand is slipping under the silk nightgown Yuki dressed you in before she left this morning. No panties. House rule reserved only for you.

Two chubby, thick fingers trace lazy circles over your clit. You're still half-asleep, but your hips betray you, grinding gently into his touch with a breathy whimper. One that he hushes with soft coos into your hair, as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He's too needy for proper prep, but not a monster. He won't split you open dry, no matter how desperate he is.

Gently coating his cock in the slick gel, groaning at the sensation, then smears the rest over your folds, working two fat fingers into you with care. Stretching you open, watching the furrow of your brows. The way your hips grind into his palm. That's when he knows you're ready to be his sweet girl.

Moving to shift you into a full nelson, your legs spread wide, needy cunt on fully display to the cruel, cool air, his toned arms wrapped tightly beneath your knees to hold you open. His body shakes as he lines himself up, the flushed purple head of his cock nestled against your soaked entrance. And when he finally pushes in - inch by slow, shuddering inch - his breath stutters in your ear.

" I'm sorry,” he whispers, voice cracked and barely holding together. “I just - I need you. I need you so bad. Love you too much. You understand, don’t you?”

You don't. But who are you to think when you're being split apart with each and every inch.

His trembling, soft lips brush your temple, then anywhere they can reach, almost frantic like he’s trying to kiss you into forgiveness. His cock twitches inside you, buried deep, stretching you around every vein, every pulsing inch of him as his hips start to roll in slow, desperate grinds upward.

It’s overwhelming when every movement seems to be thick and needy, every stroke a whimper he can’t quite bite back. You can feel the tears welling in his thick dark lashes as he mumbles, “Feels so good - feels too good - I’m sorry, I’m sorry - ”

And that’s when Yuki walks in.

“Aw, baby,” she sighs, lips pursed into a faux pout as she drops her bag and saunters over. “You said you were too tired to play.” She teases, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Kneels between your trembling thighs, fingers curling around Choso’s thigh to still his movements.

“Let me taste.”

She leans in, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his cock to the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. Thin pink tongue all hot and wet, sinful even, and your entire body trembles. You mewl into Choso’s shoulder, but Yuki only hums in approval.

“None of that. Let mommy make you feel good, okay?”

God, she does. Takes her time savoring you, swirling her tongue, teasing both of you until Choso’s thighs are shaking and your slick drips down onto the sheets in glistening trails. Every drag of her tongue across his base has Choso twitching inside you, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, perhaps mercifully, she relents. “Go ahead,” she breathes, voice honeyed and cruel. “Stuff her full.” Moving her soft hand to stroke lovingly through his dark hair as he fucks you slow and deep, whispering praise between gasps. Yuki draws lazy circles against your clit with two fingers, tracing their names into your overstimulated nerves until you’re gushing into her palm.

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss you gently. “See? We take such good care of you. You’re going to let Choso fill you up now, right?”

You nod, dazed, teary-eyed, far too dumb with pleasure to form a single coherent thought. All that spills from your lips are soft, slurred thank yous, babbled between gasps every time she pushes you into another climax. Each twitch of your body, every flutter of your walls around Choso’s cock, sends him closer, until he's almost sobbing, the warm tears finding home at the dip of your shoulder.

It only takes a few of those pretty little squeezes, and then he’s bursting with a low, choked groan. His cock throbs inside you as he cums, hot, thick ropes filling your cunt, the warmth blooming deep, pressing tight against your insides like he’s trying to make a home in you. He stays buried there, panting into your hair, as Yuki leans in again, slender fingers catching the spill of cum that threatens to escape with obscene care.

“I think we’d make a really happy family,” she purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen, puffy cunt. “Don’t worry. Mommy will pay all the bills. Choso wants at least ten kids. You can do that, can’t you, sugar?”

You don’t answer. How could you, with exhaustion taking over? Your lashes flutter closed, brain turned to syrup from the overwhelming heat. Rebelling tomorrow seems like a better idea. Your head lolls to the side in a barely-there nod, and that seems to please her, or maybe it’s the taste, your juices tangled with Choso’s musk as she slurps her fingers clean, tongue dragging with a playful hum.

A part of you would’ve shivered. Maybe even cried. But then there’s pathetic little Choso, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breath shaky, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in a soft, cracked whimper. As if the words have any meaning because he still doesn't pull out. You wonder if he even understands the word for someone who says it so much.

[d-emeter]

Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

[wonsroyalty]

it's okay, i'm okay : ̗̀➛이희승

i don't want him anyway, girl, take him..

✧heeseung x f!reader

genre/warnings: 3.8k, i don’t want to give too much away :0 but angst, relationship, cheating, shouting, sex, fighting, mentions of wishing death. this in no way shape or form represents heeseung, it's purely fictional! italics are flashback scenes!!!

a/n: i’m obsessed with this song omg + i listened to white ferrari (it’s my cry song 😕) at one point while writing this so theres a few references AND i was listening to the new tyler album so if it’s not sad enough it’s because i was so excited 😭😭 ooo and the favourite song choice is from those playlists that enha made at the start of the romance untold era 🔥🔥 for @sofsofenso my no.1 fan, mwah 😽 i hope you like it !!

masterlist

"I. Love. You. So. Fucking. Much." he kissed you between each word.

Your chest was heavy as you held his weight on your stomach but you managed to laugh at his actions.

"We'll be together forever right?" you held your pinky out.

"Forever and ever!" he crossed his own with yours.

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead but you truly wished he was.

Your naive 11-year-old heart truly believed that you'd be with him forever. He was your first everything.

You were that cheesy couple in the group that everyone believed would get married and have kids and stay together till you were old and grey.

Too bad, considering your luck was always terrible and you had attracted the devil's spawn.

The fleeting moments of you sneaking him into your room, the lingering touches you shared and the overall thought of his existence skated around the interior of your brain.

You desperately wanted to get rid of them but they brought a sense of comfort that only he could fill.

flashback!-

"I think you might be my soulmate.." he trailed off.

"Hee!" you scolded him. "Wait until after we meet your parents."

You smoothed down your black skirt, checking your outfit in the mirror one last time.

He helped you into his red leather jacket before pulling you into his embrace.

"Heeseung!"

"Okay, okay baby." he pulled away. "Let me get a picture before we go,"

The flash of his polaroid camera captured your smitten expression as he kissed your cheek.

His parents loved you, they claimed that their son had a glow around him whenever he was with you.

"Oh my, sorry. I can't focus when I look into your eyes, pretty." Heeseung whispered.

You lightly hit his chest. "I was telling you to look at this."

"Wait, new lockscreen and it's still me!" he got up and did a little dance.

"Yeah, but that not what I- "

He picked you up and twirled you around before attacking you with tickles.

"Stop, stop!"

"Tell me how much you love me and I'll stop." he cackled.

"I love you, so much, Hee." you collapsed onto his bed in a fit of giggles.

He flopped down next to you and pulled you into his chest.

"You really are my soulmate."

What a bunch of crap.

"Yn.. don't look but she's.. over there." Winter glared in the direction of the girl who was partly responsible for the end of your relationship.

flashback!-

Keeho rested an arm around your shoulder as he showed you around the party.

"You're so drunk already." You laughed at him. “Again.”

It was common for Keeho to get heavily drunk at pre’s and every time he said he would stop but just didn’t follow through.

"AM not." he pouted.

The two of you walked over to your friends.

"Where's your man?" Sungchan laughed behind his cup.

"We're not always together." you grumbled.

His comment did make you curious though as you had both made your way to the party separately.

Your grandfather was sick and you wanted to visit him in the hospital before making your way to Keeho's 19th, so you had told Heeseung he could meet you whenever he got there.

Chenle told you that he'd seen him in the kitchen earlier so they all followed you there.

"Heeseung! What the fuck!" you shouted.

Yunjin was pressed up against your boyfriend who had a hand in her hair. They were about an inch away from kissing but judging by the gloss on his lips, you could tell that they already had.

He gently pushed her away with a laugh.

"Baby, hey." he waved to your friends too.

"What is your problem?!"

You pushed him away as he got closer to you.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

"Guys.." Winter called after you.

His feet stopped once you were inside a bathroom.

"I've never seen you that mad before, pretty." he laughed.

"Let me out."

"No way... you're actually jealous."

Your jaw dropped.

"I'm not jealous, I'm breaking up with you."

"No, you're not." His face dropped. “Your emotions are high right now because your grandfather is sick. Don’t let that cloud your judgement.”

All you could do was look away because you believed his words.

"Come on, let's talk about this." he attempted to kiss you.

"Get off! You've clearly kissed someone else tonight and you expect me to want to stay with you despite you cheating."

This wasn't even the first time you'd caught him “cheating” on you.

He laughed in your face.

"This isn't Yunjin's lip combo." he joked.

"Well, it's someone's isn't it?" you frowned.

"So, you're gonna throw away 9 years because you don't trust me?" he calmed down.

Spolier! He'd convinced you to stay with him once again!

You remember the disappointed looks from all of your friends when you walked out with his arm around you.

They weren’t the only people who began to warn you about Heeseung.

Every new person you’d interacted with told you that he was bad news but you reassured them that he was just getting used to university.

He seemed to switch as soon as you’d gotten to uni, badmouthing you to his friends, staying out late, missing dates, ignoring you and each time you’d take him back.

You even took him back when you walked into the lunch area and caught him kissing your seat-mate from Politics.

Your best friends didn’t speak to you for a week after that one.

But you’d become desensitised to the feeling you got when you’d catch him. Taking him back immediately saved you from having to argue with him and you were tired.

Tired from the stress of your degree and having to deal with Heeseung.

Everywhere you went, you received looks of pity. No one envied you for being in a relationship with Heeseung, they all felt sorry for you.

You continued to defend him and every time he’d act out and chip off a piece of your heart, leaving you embarrassed and scared.

“Hee is my soulmate.” you reiterated.

Heeseung was all you ever wanted.

He was all you’d ever known.

Hee was your first everything.

Letting him go, would be losing a part of yourself and you weren’t quite sure if you were capable of doing that yet.

But four months later at the same house you'd been pushed to your limit.

flashback!-

“Great to see that you aren’t as drunk as last time.” Chenle poked at Keeho.

“I’m on lookout, Jiung smashed my dining room table last time.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yn!” someone turned you around.

“Hey, Yunjin.” you all sighed.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she pouted.

You really didn’t know and you were tired of people asking you that.

“I don’t know, go find him if you want.” you shrugged.

You had every reason to be mad at him.

It was your 10-year anniversary and you hadn’t done anything to celebrate together.

The party was his idea of “having a fun anniversary”.

“Yunjin, don’t come over to kill the vibe.” Sungchan groaned.

“Fine.” she grumbled.

On her way past you, she pretended to trip in order to dump her drink down your front.

“Shit.” you ran off to a bathroom in order to get the ice out of your bra, not even stopping to hear Winter scold Yunjin.

Most of them were locked so you opted for the one in Keeho’s bedroom.

On the verge of tears, you attempted to calm yourself down and get a shirt from his walk in wardrobe.

You threw on a jersey that matched with your jeans and were on your way out when someone came into the main area of the room.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you for ages.” a girl giggled.

‘What is Yunjin doing here?’

“Well, I’m a busy man.”

‘Heeseung?! What kind of a sick joke was this?’

“Ugh don’t remind me. I asked Yn where you were and she literally said she didn’t care.”

‘I didn’t say that??’

“What?” Heeseung sounded confused.

“Enough about her, I’m right here. And we have all the time in the world.”

You could hear her kiss him.

The same lips that had spent countless hours pressed against your own.

The same lips that spoke promises of fulfilment and expressed their gratitude towards you.

The same lips that whispered words of encouragement when it was just the two of you, late at night while you gave yourself to him.

You felt disgusted.

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead, but you truly wished he was. You wanted him to suffer an unspeakable fate for hurting you but every time you thought of him, you couldn’t bear the thought of having to live without him.

The remaining fragments of your heart fell into the palm of your hand. There was nothing to fight for anymore.

You should’ve moved long before the moans reached your ear but you were frozen in shock.

‘Is this what people warned me of.’ you panicked. ‘I should’ve never let it get this far.”

Your feet didn’t wait and moved involuntarily as you gave away your hiding spot.

You needed to see it for yourself.

The tears that you’d been holding in for months fell down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this- not today.”

Pushing past them you ran downstairs and out the doors, attracting the attention of your friends.

“Yn? What, wait!” Heeseung shouted, running after you as he slipped his clothes back on.

He grabbed your arm pulling you back into his embrace.

You shoved him away violently this time.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“You can’t keep saying you’re sorry and then acting out and embarrassing me every. single. time. I’m fed up Heeseung, I am done with you for good. The pain I feel just from loving you is a burden that I shouldn’t have to face anymore. I love you so much, Hee- Heeseung.” You cried as you pushed him away again. “I care so much, but it’s clear that my best just wasn’t enough for you. I’m sure that- that in another life we’d be happy.. but in this one I just don’t think that’s possible.”

“Yn, no. I’ll fix this.. I’ll fix us and I- I’ll change my ways. Just- please.” he trembled. “I wanted- I want to spend my life with you.. I can’t lose you. You can’t leave me. You’re all I’ve ever known.”

“Well that’s not true,” you sobbed. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Baby, why.” he grabbed your hands. “Why don’t you trust me anymore? What do I have to do to get you to trust me again.. I’ll do anything for you. I love you..”

You could see your friends in your peripheral vision watching in concern. Waiting to intervene.

“Can I ask you something?” you stared him in the eye. “I need you to answer honestly.”

“Anything!” he pleaded, tears running down his face. “Ask me anything.”

“Why did you do it time after time?” you watched him deny his acts.

“Sieun told me. You were with Yunjin, Aya, Kate. You even tried it on my Winter and she’s my best friend, Mia, Yeji, Aeri.. I can’t.” The tears fell again.

“None of them compare to you.. Baby, please don’t leave.” he tried getting closer to you. “When I look at you all I see is my soulmate. I care for you still and I will, forever.”

“Well, I look at you… and I see nothing.”

For once, he didn’t even try to fight back.

The rest of the night was a blur.

Sungchan punched him and Winter took you home as you cried for days to come.

You waited by the phone for a text or even a call with an apology but days passed then weeks which turned into months.

There was an odd sense of comfort in knowing that he knew he was in the wrong but all you wanted to do was have him hold you and tell you that everything would be alright.

Yunjin waited for her coffee to be made as she looked down at her phone.

"I.. You know what.. I don't care." you leaned back in your chair.

You didn’t know if she was still dating him, and you didn’t want to.

Chenle gasped.

"Are you being real right now?" He pressed. "This is new territory."

You nodded.

Winter suddenly began to look uncomfortable.

"Coming.. over.. here." she muttered out.

"Yn!" Yunjin screeched. “You’re going to Keeho’s party tonight right?”

“Yeah.. Surprised that you are too, you know.”

She pointed at herself confused.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Keeho.” you pointed.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m someone’s plus one.” she looked away bashfully.

“That’s not a problem.” you shrugged it off. “We’re all there to get wasted anyway.”

She mistook your lack of anger as friendship.

“Well, hope I see you later.” she waved, taking off as her order was called up.

“I don’t.” Chenle groaned.

You looked at the time on your phone.

“Cute lockscreen.” Winter giggled.

It was a picture of you, her, Chenle, Sungchan and Keeho on holiday together.

That was the summer after you and Heeseung broke up.

flashback!-

“It is so hot here.” Winter fanned herself.

“That’s because you’re stood out on the balcony.” Sungchan laughed.

Everyone else lounged around your hotel room.

You were still a mess.

They were trying to distract you from anything and everything and while you appreciated the thought, you just wanted Heeseung back.

Your phone was connected to Keeho’s speaker, blasting some songs that you weren’t paying attention to.

A familiar intro snapped you out of your trance and you immediately reached for your phone.

“No- No, Yn give me that.” Chenle snatched the phone out of your hands.

You’d pressed onto Heeseung’s contact and were in the process of typing out ‘I miss you…’

You remembered what Heeseung told you the first time. “Sincerity is scary by the 1975. Whenever I hear the song, I think of you.” he shrugged. “I guess that’s why it’s my favourite.”

All it took was one song, his favourite song, and you fell back into the rhythm that they were trying to get you out of.

“Come on.” Keeho smiled as he helped you up. “Let’s go out, it’s not every day that you get to be in Hawaii!

Now two years had passed.

You were in the final year of your Bachelor’s degree, with employment lined up for you to work under a United Nations representative as you studied for your Masters.

Winter was going off to Paris to work as a designer for a luxury brand, Chenle was already earning 6 figures as an accountant while studying, Keeho and Sungchan were both planning a gap year before going into business and engineering respectively.

Your best friends, all going their separate ways. You couldn’t bear the thought.

You loved them like no other and having to deal with life’s problems alone didn’t seem too great.

Together you’d created a calendar to show whenever someone was free and had planned several group holidays to come.

Spending winter in Paris with Winter, spring break in the Philippines with Keeho and Sungchan and several mini trips in summer with Chenle.

“Cheers!” Keeho shouted.

“What are we cheering to?” you laughed.

“Us… duh!”

You’d all settled on the conservatory sofa, away from the noise and people at the party.

“We have 5 months left, don’t get sappy.” Sungchan smiled.

“Well if you think about it, it’ll be over in no time.” Winter looked deep in thought. “We’ve been friends for 19 years now and those flew by.”

19 years..

It didn’t take long for you all to realise that you really didn’t have a lot of time left in your bubble.

Having to face the real world without your found family was difficult.

“I don’t want to leave you guys.” Chenle cried into your side as you all hugged each other.

“Please don’t be a stranger guys,” Keeho sobbed. “Weekly group facetime calls, weekend trips..”

“I want postcards.” you wailed. “From your world trip.”

“You’ll all get them.” Sungchan bawled.

“Remember in nursery when- when Chenle started that paint fight and we all got scolded by the teacher.” Winter laughed with a sniffle.

Laughter broke out across the group.

You had the picture on your childhood bedroom wall. The four-year-old versions of yourselves covered head to toe and looking guilty.

Time really does fly by.

“I love you guys.”

The moment was cut short when Jiung stumbled into the room.

“Hey!”

“Not me!”

Chenle dove out of the way and you ended up covered in Jiung’s drink.

“Why does everyone put ice in their drinks!” you wined. “I’m going to steal a shirt, Keeho.”

You left the group as they arranged a ride home for Jiung and looked for a change of clothes in Keeho’s wardrobe.

Slipping a shirt on, you left his room but realised you’d wanted to use the bathroom.

There was another down the hall anyway.

You were in the process of washing your hands when you noticed the song seeping through the gap under the door.

“Sincerity is scary by the 1975.”

But you didn’t have an urge to text him.

The door flung open.

‘Why!’ you groaned.

“Ba- Yn..” he tilted his head. “You look better.”

“Please leave, Heeseung.”

You hated how he looked even better.

“Why are you looking at me like that..” you whined.

You hated how your whole being shut down as soon as you were close to him. The past two years went out of the window.

“Like what?” he whispered.

“You know we can’t..” you trailed off.

He took several steps closer to you and you hesitated to breathe.

“We’re not doing anything.” his eyes were very much focused on your lips.

Winter’s voice rang out in your head.

“Don’t tell the guys.. but if you ever end up in the same place as him, I think you should get closure. It’ll help you move on.”

You let him kiss you.

When he pulled away you brought him back, kissing his lips with a hunger you’d never had before.

He pulled you up by the waist and placed you on the bathroom counter, fingers immediately making their way under your skirt.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“One last time.” you confirmed before kissing him again with even more passion.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he pulled down your underwear and began to lap at your cunt.

Your hands grasped at his now red hair, as your head fell back against the mirror with a gasp.

He knew you like the back of his hand and you were ashamed to reach your climax so fast as he worked your insides with precision and memory.

“Fuck.. Hee- Heeseung, I’m gonna cum.” you moaned out.

“Cum for me, pretty. You did so well,” he praised as he rubbed your clit.

The nickname and intensity of your orgasm did a number on you.

You felt lightheaded as he kissed you breathlessly before reaching into his pocket to pull out a condom.

‘Thank God, he got the message. One last time.’ you thought. It felt too intimate to let him fuck you raw.

Your fingers made light work of discarding his belt and jeans so you could pull his boxers down teasingly slowly.

“Baby, please..” he whined.

You slid off the counter and onto your knees, immediately taking him into your mouth.

Your muscles moved like clockwork, memory working overtime as you pushed his buttons the way he always loved.

“Not yet..” he whimpered.

He pulled your head off his dick and helped you stand up then bent you over the counter.

You watched in the mirror as he rolled the condom on and then rubbed his length on the slick of your release.

“Heeseung,” you whined as he nudged your clit with his tip.

“All in one?” he asked you.

You nodded.

He sheathed himself into you in one go.

Feeling as though you could cum then and there, you slumped onto the surface in front of you.

Heeseung grabbed your hair and forced you to watch him in the mirror.

Once you made eye contact, you became fully aware of the situation you were in.

You cried out as he slapped your ass before slamming into you from behind.

The moans leaving your lips and whines leaving his would be heard by everyone if the music wasn’t so loud.

He knew exactly what to do and you didn’t even have to tell him what pace to go at, he remembered.

“Hee! Right there.” you cried out. “R- Right there.”

“I’m so close.” he cried. “Shit..”

“Me too.” you held your hand out.

Heeseung grabbed your outstretched hand as you came together.

Silence overcame you both as he threw the condom into the bin and helped clean you up.

He tried to kiss you again.

You looked away.

It was clear that he had just cried but so had you.

The tension and emotion you had for each other was too strong.

“I’m sorry.” he croaked out. “I’m so sorry.”

Your arms pulled him into your embrace.

“It’s okay.”

He pulled back slightly and kissed you again.

This time it was light and if you weren’t paying attention, it would’ve felt as though he was never there.

You wiped his tears away before your own.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like for us, if things were different..?” he asked.

Someone burst into the room.

“You bitch!” Yunjin shouted at you.

It wasn’t hard to assume that you’d just had sex with the smell lingering in the room and the mirror fogged up.

“Huh?” you looked at Heeseung to explain.

“Wait, Yn- ”

You laughed in pain.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You’d just helped him do what broke your heart in the first place.

Instead of sadness or anger you just felt done.

“We were just talking.” you lied.

You weren’t covering for him. You knew that he needed the closure as much as you did but ultimately you were trying to save your own skin.

Yunjin looked furious.

“You can have him.” she seethed. “I should’ve known that he’d never get over you. But I didn’t think that you’d try to get at him.”

“Girl, take him. He’s yours.” you put your hands up, signalling that you were finished with whatever was going on. “I had him in the first place, I don’t want him anymore.”

You felt bad talking about Heeseung like he was an object while he was right in front of you but you pushed that aside.

“No-!” she frowned.

“I don’t want him anyway,” you turned to leave. “Girl take him.”

Yunjin didn’t even try to fight it.

She seemed shocked that you’d given up so easily.

“Heeseung,” you started. “To answer your question, I did. But I learned not to expect much from you.”

Heeseung Lee wasn’t dead, but you no longer cared enough to wish he was.

THE END.

[sylviewrites]

T h e S o u l R e m e m b e r s

Rafayel × Reader × Sylus | Navigating relationship. Fluff. Poly.

Rafayel doesn't know how he ended up forming a bond with a law abiding hunter and a fellow wanted criminal.

He was drunk, a couple of bottles of wine reducing him to a slurring, needy mess. He was draped all over [Name], who was cuddling him warmly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she cradled his head. It was such a comfortable position that he almost fell asleep right there and then.

But fate had other tricks up it's sleeve, because just when he was about to doze off, he appeared.

One thing led to another and before he knew it, both he and Sylus were sandwiching [Name] in her bed, drifting closer to each other as much as possible.

He thought Sylus was going to get possessive, such was the nature of a dragon, never forgiving. He himself was a little jealous when he witnessed how he handled his starfish, with so much gentleness and longing... something that no matter how much her tried, he would never do.

Maybe it was wishful thinking talking, but he wondered how they knew each other so intimately. He wondered, and wondered and wondered, until after months of tiptoeing around each other, he found his answers.

Heartbreaking.

He wished he never asked, he wished the man before him, who was always so imposing and frustratingly annoying, to stop looking as if the world has burned him out.

He wished [Name] would never remember what she had to go through. He wished her kind heart would remain untainted, and so he shouldered that secret for her, knowing that her soul will always remember despite the lack of memories.

He could see it with they way she clung to Sylus every time she said goodbye, with the way her gaze lingered on him with desperation at the most random of times.

He saw it every time she showered himself with affection, so much so, every single day, as if she was regretting not doing so earlier.

Yes, the soul remembers.

"Come here," he told the taller man one night at his house, lounging at the couch with [Name] sprawled over his chest.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a teasing tilt already forming on his lips. "Oh? What is this? You want me to join you in your nightly adventures, fishy?"

Rafayel actually scoffed out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, beckoning him over with a bend of his fingers. "We both felt a little lonely earlier."

There, he'd done it. Sylus crimson eyes flickered, and he looked like he couldn't move for a second. His gaze went from him to her and back again, until his shoulders dropped in relief.

"My apologies," he chuckled, shedding his leather jacket and his boots, leaving him with his usual black t-shirt. "I hope my absence wasn't that difficult for you two to deal with."

"Hmm... it was," [Name] mumbled as she snuggled closer to Rafayel's chest, cracking an eye open when she felt the cushion dipping. She watched with soft eyes as Sylus laid his head on Rafayel's stomach, right besides hers. She gave him a small smile when he turned to face her, and she couldn't help herself when she placed a adoring kiss on his lips.

"Welcome home, Sy."

Rafayel hummed, his hand launching on those soft silver traces, his other hand preoccupied with rubbing circles comfortably on her back. "Welcome back, handsome."

Sylus looked at them with unusual gentle eyes, before he closed them, leaning his forehead into hers, indulging in the sensation of the lemurian's touch. "Mm, right there..." he sighed, wrapping an arm around [Name], hugging Rafayel too by default.

It will take some time to get used to that, Rafayel thought with fondness, his own eyes closing, and the murmur of the tv lulling him to sleep warmly between his partners.

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If you are still taking in requests, I thought I'd just leave this here. Could you potentially do a Hannibal Lecter x reader one-shot/headcanons (it's up to you) where they used to be lovers. But when the reader caught wind of Hannibal not exactly being a normal, she practically dissappeared from his life entirely. Now, years later, he sees the reader in Baltimore at an art gallery or something (idk maybe the reader is an artist herself or just a guest?) And it just re-sparks some sort of deep longing (yandere vibes???) within Hannibal.

Just a thought.

♡: i love this idea, its fr gonna awaken the poet in me. i hope u like it and it was up to your expectations (fear of disappointing ppl goes hard)

An ache for art

YANDERE HANNIBAL HEADCANON

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Artist!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Yandere hannibal, mentions of kidnapping, forced (?) kissing, persistant hannibal, not much, only obsessed hannibal who wants his woman back

SYNOPSIS: When you abandoned Hannibal Lecter, he searched for answers everywhere in his desperation for you. Oblivious to the fact that you'd caught onto the abnormalities of the man. Years later at an art gallery, Hannibal finds solace in the painings presented before you and when he finds out you're the creator, a spark is once again lightened.

An art gallery in Baltimore was the last destination of all places in the world where Hannibal expected to find you.

When he'd asked to see the artist that had performed such a spectacular job at capturing human longing — akin to his, under the stroke of a brush, he didn't expect it to be you.

And you surely didn't expect to meet him. Yet here you were, nervousness heaving on you like cemented blocks.

You'd abandoned him under the fear that you might become his next victim. A voice inside you prevented you from informing the authorities but your morals could not allow you to stay with a man like him.

Especially after realizing he must've fed you human remains, on one of his special dinner nights. Torn between your love for him and the need to escape, you never looked back.

Hannibal tried searching for you, everywhere. He thought you two were soulmates, meant to be forever. You'd climbed the walls that he had always kept higher and higher.

Just why did you leave then? Had he done something so severe that you had to disappear from his life? Leaving your job behind, your life behind in Florence and never appearing in front of him ever again.

“Hannibal.” Your voice a whisper. He could taste the way his name unfurled on your tongue.

For a man that in complete control of his emotions and what he felt, he couldn't contain his excitement and happiness upon at the sight of you.

Hannibal stepped closer to you, a smile causing the wrinkles to appear. The same wrinkles you once used to adore.

“Beautiful art, I must say.”

You nodded, accepting his compliment, a small smile on your lips. You felt no discomfort or resentment in his presence. Only thing left were the beautiful memories of a healthy relationship.

The rest of the evening was spent together. You showed him around the gallery, explaining subtle details of your art to him albeit that wasn't necessary as Hannibal read right through your gentle brush strokes.

Though he was more interested in the art that strolled alongside him. A beautiful sight in her glory, flourishing once more like the petals of a sunflower.

Hannibal had an ache. An ache to consume art but you were the type of art he felt full just by catching sight of. He couldn't satiate these cravings you'd left him with.

After your departure, Hannibal killed and he killed. Yet no one could even compare to what you made him feel.

You were responsible for the deaths of multiple innocents, because you chose to leave him with an ache. Hannibal wondered how you'd feel if you were to find out.

He wished for the time to stop. That everything would come to a halt and you'd stay frozen right before his gaze.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run to. Only available to him, only before his very eyes.

If it came down to it, Hannibal would not shy away from denying you of your freedom.

As you both reached a secluded corner in the gallery, the tension like a pendulum hung in the air above your heads.

Unanswered questions probed at Hannibal from within. He needed to know why you'd left — just what had scared you away to the point of no return?

Somewhere he knew. Deep in his heart, he was aware that this abrupt abandonment had everything to do with his own sickly desires.

“Why?”

You knew it was coming and it did. You couldn't tell him you knew about his little murder sprees or how he fed you human flesh.

You tried to walk away from the suffocating conversation but Hannibal couldn't allow that. Hand grasping around your arm, his tight prevention scaring you.

“Hannib—”

“I won't let you leave this time.” He longed for you, he never stopped to begin with. Everyday he'd come to his house and find it empty, it felt like needles prickled his chest.

He missed you roaming the premises of his humble abode, dressed in one of his button downs. Casting a meaningful light over the painted walls and furniture.

His grip was tight. You saw the sheer determination so instead of causing a scene, it was best to continue the conversation someplace better.

Like a coffee shop.

Sitting before him with a cup of coffee in your hand, you stared at him. Hannibal was never fond of such small cafes on the roadside — he preferred lavish and rich restaurants.

“I know, Hannibal.”

That was all he needed to know that you were well aware. His face falling but there was no expression on his face at all. Like he'd expected this.

“Was it that easy to abandon me?”

A stinging sensation spread in your chest at his sorrow filled question. Of course it wasn't easy. You'd spent a whole year in complete isolation after parting from him.

Hannibal caught onto the painful expression, akin to his. He wished that he was different too, more like you and not the cannibalistic murderer he was.

But some instincts could not be controlled.

“Come back to me.”

You could not. To step all over your moral conscience required strong will which you did not possess.

“I can't. It will never work, Hannibal.”

Hannibal noticed the reluctance in your gaze, his own darkening. Plans to keep you by his side already forming in his cunning mind.

There was no limit he wouldn't cross for you. Whether it was manipulating you back into his life or kidnapping you, he didn't want to back out.

You picked up your bag and after sparing him one last glance, left the cafe. Bells ringing against his ears, notifying him of your exit.

Hannibal was in disarray. He needed to have you, he had to have you. There was no way he could sit idle and watch you leave him.

So he followed you, pressing you up against your car. Lips working hastily to captivate yours, as he fought the string of dark emotions inside him.

You almost melted.

Him being the only man that could make you feel like this. A bittersweet kiss which acted as the closure you never received from him.

Hannibal’s frame locked you in, his hands roaming down to your waist. He kissed you with vigor, with profound strength like you could disappear at any given moment.

Your hands stayed by your sides, lacking the courage to slither them across his nape.

The kiss heated – his lips sucking yours and then he attempted to enter your mouth. You didn't let him. Persistent you were.

Hannibal pulled back from the kiss and breathed against your lips.

You soon realized what you were doing, in who you were investing and you pushed him off you.

Hannibal loved the feeling of your small hands over his chest. The way you still tasted the same even after years had passed.

“Don't ever come in front of me again.”

He didn't like the venom in your tone and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go like before.

Hannibal watched you leave in your car and sighed, his fingertips running along his own lips. Remnants of your saliva bringing him to the brink of insanity.

He would do anything to have you.

And if that meant going against your will, so be it.

[jordiemeow]

Hi jo sorry if this isn’t what you normally write and you can ignore it if you want. I would just love a sort of comfort fic of reader losing their virginity to art but she’s uncomfortable and wants to stop and he’s sweet about it

No pressure I love everything you put out ♡

don't apologise pookie this is sweet :) <3

warnings: 18+ sex (p in v), insecure/uncomfortable reader, loss of virginity, very quickly (+ poorly) written apologies x

This is decidedly not how you expected losing your virginity to go.

Art was a gentleman. Waiting patiently for months, never pressuring you into anything despite the fact he'd spent countless nights leaving your dorm blue-balled and in dire need of a cold shower. Even when you suggested taking that next step, he made you insist several times that it was really what you wanted.

No, he wasn't the problem.

It took fifteen minutes with his head between your thighs for you to cum. That part was great. It was what came next that made things awkward: Art perched above you, one hand entwined with our own while the other guided him into you. The stretch was overwhelming, enough to render you breathless for the next few seconds as he eased in slowly. Each thick, solid inch has your toes curling and your lungs desperately gathering air.

An affirmative nod of your head to confirm that you were okay (you weren't) and he was rocking into you, groaning about how tight and good you felt. Everyone always said it gets better. But it's been two minutes of him thrusting into you, jaw slack with pleasure and eyes screwed shut while he babbles praises senselessly about how well you're taking it, and things are decidedly not better.

You can't take it anymore. The discomfort of having another person so deep inside you, the stretch, the burning pain...

"Art, stop."

He doesn't hear you at first. You're quiet, drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin and his ragged sounds of pleasure.

"Art." Your free hand finds his shoulder. Fingers curling into the sweat-slick skin, face strained in displeasure. "Stop, please."

Now you've got his attention. His eyes snap onto yours again, hips slowing to a halt. "What?" He blinks lamely. Despite his initial obliviousness, at least he's stopped moving.

"I just... I can't," you explain weakly, choking on a hitched breath.

It's not the most eloquent reply ever, but what are you supposed to say? This is awful. It's nothing like I expected. I'm having a terrible time. It hurts, it's uncomfortable, it's—

You could say all of that, actually. You just don't want to hurt his feelings.

"Okay," he says, brows furrowing. "Are you, um... are you okay? I'm sorry, was I going too fast?"

His hand moves to push your hair gently out of your face. Sweet boy. You can't find it in yourself to be upset.

"No, you're fine," you reply, trying for a smile. It falls terribly flat.

"Are you—" A pause, hand squeezing yours as he braces himself up on his other one. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you reply, embarrassed by the way his eyes are searching your face with such genuine concern. You wish you could just melt into the mattress and pretend this never happened. "Can you just... can you get off, please?"

"Oh!" He blinks, glancing down. "Right. Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry."

The process of him pulling out is far less agonising, and you breathe a sigh of relief, body relaxing beneath him. He's still watching you with that same worried look as he lays down next to you, fingers twitching by his sides uncertainly.

"Too much?" He asks tentatively. You nod sheepishly, eyes averted. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't—did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

It feels like the hundredth time he's posed the question, but he's panicking inwardly about your apparent state of discomfort as you shift restlessly, eyes fixated on some point over his shoulder. You feel embarrassed. Guilty. Like a failure.

What's the point in him dating you if you can't even handle sex?

You don't voice any of that out loud, but he can see it in your eyes; the way your bottom lip quivers slightly as the all of the emotions cross plainly across your face. Or how your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, voice cracking.

"No, no, no. Why are you apologising?" He replies instantly. He lifts a hand, pausing before he makes contact. "Is this okay?" When you nod your head, his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It's okay."

Your head shakes insistently. "No, I should be able to do it. I mean, what's the point if I can't?"

His knuckles linger against your cheek, and then he laughs. Just a soft huff of amusement, but enough to have you knitting your brows at him.

"What's the point?" He repeats softly, eyes crinkling down at you. "It's just sex, babe."

"Sex is a very integral part of a relationship!" You argue, wiping feebly at your eyes.

"Maybe," Art says, shrugging noncommittally as he watches your aborted attempt sympathetically. "Doesn't mean we have to have sex right now. There's always room to try again in the future, right?"

You hate that he makes sense. It's hard to wallow in your own self-pity when he's looking at you so tenderly, still caressing your cheek. "Right," you mumble reluctantly. "And if the future is never?"

"We'll tackle that hurdle when we get there," he says, dipping his head to kiss the tip of your nose. "Stop stressing. Let's just put a movie on and relax, 'kay?"

You pout at him for a second longer before relenting. Your head falls back into the pillow with a sigh as he settles back beside you, an arm draped across your middle to reach for the remote. A few more sniffles can be heard as you settle down.

"Thank you."

It's quiet, but he hears it. He sends you a soft smile. "You don't need to thank me."

"Well, I am," you reply, shifting to rest your head against his shoulder. All you get in reply is a light chuckle.

A few moments pass as he flicks through the channels before you speak up again. "Can you maybe put your boxers back on? I don't want to see your dick."

He snorts, tilting his head to press a kiss into the top of your hair. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

[ariestrxsh]

can you write something of reader being too needy while chris is on matt’s livestream and she teases chris so he gets mad and handcuffs her to the bed and gags her with a vibrator on her pussy, making her cum over and over again and he doesn’t even stop when she can’t take it, just focusing on his game as if she isn’t even in the room

I hope you like what I came up with. 💖 Thought this request was totally hot btw.

Chris restrains you to his bed, gags you, and overstimulates you with a vibrator while he ignores you...

"Come on, Chris. I need you. Why do you always have to be streaming when I need your help?" You quietly asked, desperately tugging on his sleeve. "Why the fuck are you always being such a little slut?" Chris barked at you after silencing his mic.

You were just barely out of view to the audience, and you'd been slowly removing your clothes piece by piece, trying to get his attention all night. "What are you gonna do about it?" You challenged him, spreading your legs and pulling your panties to the side to show him how wet you were. He licked his lips as he glanced down at your wet pussy.

"That's it. I've had enough of you," he growled, the look in his eyes darkening. He momentarily clicked on his mic. "Hey, I gotta deal with something. I'll be back," he told Matt with a sharp edge in his voice. "Chris, what the fuck? Where are you going?" Matt inquired, sounding agitated as Chris removed his headset and shut off his mic once more.

He aggressively grabbed you by the arm, leaving red marks on your flesh from his strong grip and dragging over toward his bed. "If you're gonna act like a little slut, you're going to get treated like one," he said through gritted teeth, throwing you onto the mattress.

He carelessly ripped off the last few items of clothing you still had on as he started restraining your wrists together with your own bra and fastening it around the headboard. Excitement coursed through you as he tightened the knot to make sure you couldn't get loose.

"Wanna cum?" He sweetly cooed. He delivered a harsh slap to your pretty pussy, and you gasped and jumped at the sensation. "Please, Chris. More than anything," you pleaded with him, but you wanted to take back your words as you watched him make his way over to the drawer where the two of you kept all your sex toys. You knew what this meant.

You watched him maliciously grin at you as he pulled out a ball gag and your vibrating panties. "Careful what you wish for," he smirked, forcing your mouth open and placing the ball gag in it. He fastened it around your head before slipping the vibrating panties on over your thighs.

Your eyes widened as he opened up the app on his phone to control them, and your knees grew weak as you felt the buzzing start between your legs. "Don't worry, princess. You're going to be cumming all night," he whispered, running the soft pad of his thumb across your hot cheek.

Your eyes conveyed your desperation as he withdrew his attention from you, wandering back over to his game. Your thighs had never envied his headset as much as they did now as he placed it back on around his ears, turning his microphone back on. "Thanks for leaving me hanging," Matt huffed after Chris had announced his return.

The delightful vibrations hummed against your clit, your cunt dripping with arousal. You could hear the sound of his long fingers tapping away on his controller, wishing they were inside of you. He'd occasionally reach for his phone and turn up the intensity, but he paid you no mind, pretending you weren't even there.

You involuntarily tugged at your restraints and bit down on the ball gag as pleasure flooded your system. Your bundle of nerves became even more sensitive as your first orgasm surged through you. Your whole body began to shudder, and your eyes wandered towards the back of your head.

You could hear Chris' voice as he poked fun at Matt, and it killed you that none of his words were directed at you. You craved his attention, but you knew he was going go purposely withhold it from you no matter how you tried to beg him.

Recovering from your climax before the next one hit was nearly impossible as Chris turned the vibrations up one more level. You moaned his name over and over unintelligibly with the gag in your mouth, but your whimpers were drowned out by the sounds of Matt and Chris arguing with each other on stream.

Your heart rate and breathing pattern sped up, every muscle tensing up as you trembled. You longingly stared at the back of Chris' head as he read off other girls' names, thanking them for the gifted subs, tears welling in your eyes from the overstimulation.

Chris turned the vibrating panties up one more setting. Along with the increase in intensity, your orgasms became more so as well. You writhed around on his bed, kicking your feet, bucking your hips, and curling your toes. You came again and again, one climax cascading right after the other like waves crashing during a storm.

The sensation you once yearned for was now gnawing away at you, driving you mad. You were absolutely exhausted, and your nervous system shot, but Chris kept his gaze focused forward, disregarding you completely and continuing on with his game.

You knew you were in for a long night.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 4!

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

No warnings this is wholesome lmaoooooooo

His scent lingers on you when you walk into work on Monday. Despite how hard you'd tried to wash it off, it clings to your skin, seemingly unwilling to let you go.

Secretly, that delights you, emphasizes the strength of whatever there was between the two of you. It’s equal parts giddy, and terrifying.

That an alpha like him- that he could be interested in you, you have to resist a groan of delight as you wait for the elevator to get to your floor.

The doors slide open and you let out a long sigh, making your way slowly to your desk, smiling and forcing yourself to greet your coworkers.

You were already exhausted by the idea of working, wishing you were still in bed, hidden under piles of blankets to shield you from the world. Maybe a certain alpha would be willing to join you.

Or maybe… maybe you were better off never thinking about him again. 

Honestly, you'd probably be doing him a favour, your situations couldn't be more opposite, you couldn't imagine him ever seeing where you lived, it might hurt you to see the pity written across his face.

Worse, you'd just be a burden to him, he'd probably feel obligated to take care of you, and if things didn't work out- you shudder- you didn't even want to think about it.

But God, you were so attracted to him that it hurt. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the ways he would touch you, the ways he might feel, the size of him-

You blink in surprise, feeling a small flush of pheromones around you. Damn, work was the worst place for this.

At the same time, you catch sight of Renée, the only other omega in the department, making her way toward you, her desk situated nearby.

She glances at you, gives you a subtle nod while dropping her stuff, before pausing, and turning to you.

“You smell like an Alpha.” She says, no question in her tone.

Renée was the type of person to speak somewhat kindly to your face, the perfect facade of caring, but you knew people, and you knew that she would find a way to work this interaction into office gossip.

“I made a friend.” You answer inexplicably, trying to keep a poker face, knowing that shyness would do you no favours here.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” She says, smiling over at you sweetly. 

“Thanks.” You mutter politely, tugging your headset on, and getting ready to start your day.

Your phone pings in the middle of the morning peak hours, and you pause speaking to glance down at it, seeing yet another message from the alpha himself.

He’d been sending texts all weekend, texts that you had been ignoring, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

You shake your head, apologising for your pause, before resuming your work.

When the call ends, you take a bathroom break, pulling down your notification bar to see what he’s said.

You catch sight of all the other messages before, sighing as guilt fills you.

I hoped you had a nice time, sweetheart, I’d like to see you again.

Omega?

Please don’t feel shy about the car, I wanted it too.

Are you ignoring me?

Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s have dinner.

Are you really going to make me beg?

It was almost hard to breathe, the way he seemed so desperate for you. You could almost feel his desire through the phone, like an ache in your chest, sticking like tar to the back of your throat.

Denying him might be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but it was for the best, you decide as you lock your phone. You would not be played for a fool ever again.

He calls during your lunch break, you swallow and flip your phone over, muting the call while you eat your small packed lunch.

Why wasn't he getting the message? Would it really be that hard to free yourself of him?

You don't get any more messages or calls after that, and you assume he gives up when you hear nothing else from him for the rest of the day.

Your transit home is bitter, the thought that you'd successfully chased an alpha away hurts, like you knew it would.

He might have been amazing, he might have been warm. You tip your head back on the bus, taking in a deep breath and exhaling agony.

Worse, his scent fades even more the next day, and where you'd been trying to scrub it from you over the weekend, you cling to it now, wishing it would stay just a few days more.

You stop, surprised, when you see a single sunflower sitting on your work desk in the morning. 

It's in a little transparent vase, and your heart gives a violent uptick as you approach, reaching for the little card you see pressed under the vase, raising it to your nose, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pure scent of him. He'd probably rubbed the harsh little card against his scent gland, trying to get your attention by any means necessary. 

You go so weak in the knees that you're forced to brace a hand against your desk to support you.

You draw back, flipping the card open, finding one word written neatly in his hand.

Please

You bite down in the corner of your lip, smiling. Guess you hadn't chased him away after all.

Was this good? Was this bad? You didn't know, all you could feel is your chest fluttering at the idea that you'd pushed this Alpha away as hard as you could and he was still here, trying to calmly approach, not overwhelming you by physically getting into your space, but letting his actions speak for him, reminding you that he was still here.

Could you hope that his feelings were real? That he really cared about you, where other Alphas had only themselves in mind?

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

You turn, dropping your hand as if you've been caught.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, turning to busy yourself with work, feeling her eyes glued to the back of your head.

When you finally settle in, staring at the flower, you frown, remembering the way the second alpha you'd been with had used your own desires against you. He'd twisted your need to be cared for, making it seem like your only purpose was to serve him. Adam had left you aching for crumbs and hating yourself for it.

You could almost cry from the memory, that alphas could be so cruel, so manipulative, that it was always a game and you needed to keep your cards close to your chest.

Why, would William be any different?

Why were you wishing with everything you had, that he was?

You bring the card up to your nose, breathing in his scent, hoping.

.

You’re staring at his unopened messages yet again, trying to figure out what to say to him when the phone on your desk rings.

You straighten, grabbing your headset, tugging it on before answering, giving your quick, jovial greeting.

There’s a long pause, that alerts you to the fact that this call might not be totally normal.

“Omega.” The voice finally says, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“William?” You ask, almost choking on your words, “You- these calls are recorded for quality purposes.” 

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

Jesus Christ, you could feel your heart palpitating in your chest.

“We shouldn’t be talking on this line.” You respond shakily.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

Ohmygod, you clear your throat, adjusting yourself in your seat with the way his voice is affecting you.

“William-”

“-I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you again, even if it’s for you to tell me you want me to leave you alone. I’ll beg if I have to.”

You blink, mouth parting, unable to speak.

“We shouldn’t.” You try.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

Your breath hitches as he continues on repeat, slow, drawing out each word with his voice echoing through your headset, sending shivers over your spine.

“Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay.” You stumble out, “Alright.”

You hear him sigh a breath of relief.

“Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t-” You start before cutting off, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “-I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t fret little one, I’ll pick you up after work. I’ll take care of everything, you just have to withstand my company for one night, and if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone after.”

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

He hums over the line, a little laugh after a few moments.

“Thank you, omega, see you later.”

You mumble your goodbye, ending the call on your side.

It warms your core for minutes after, unbelievably turned on by him, unable to deny the way you were feeling, you bring the card up to your nose once more, breathing him in.

.

He sends you a quick message a few minutes before your work day ends to tell you that he’s waiting in the lobby for you.

You feel a nervous twist in your stomach as you close your files, and pack up your things, glancing over to see that Renee hadn’t come back from her trip to the bathroom just yet, normally bidding her goodbye before you leave.

You wonder if you should bring the sunflower with you, but you figure it would be fine here and you can just take it home tomorrow. On the other hand, seeing it here really did make the day more bearable. 

You decide to think about it later, heading for the elevator, your bag in hand.

You catch his scent as the doors slide open, smiling wistfully as bergamot surrounds you, tugging you to him.

You round the corner and stop short in shock.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

It's a very bold move, to openly present your scent gland to a possible stranger, and you glance up at his face, noting his expression.

His eyebrows are pinched, mouth turned down into a frown, confusion maybe, perhaps a hint of distaste.

You didn't know you were good at reading lips until this moment as well, but you know without a doubt that he says the words ‘I'm sorry, I'm not interested.’ despite how far away you are.

 Then, he turns, eyes meeting yours as if he knew exactly where you were.

He mutters something you think is ‘excuse me,’ before he begins walking in your direction.

In a well pressed white shirt, tucked into charcoal grey pants, he approaches you with even strides, never breaking eye contact, making you feel the intensity of him as he draws near.

You feel your spine stiffen, head angling upward the closer he gets, until he's standing before you, drinking you in.

“Hello, sweetheart, thank you for giving me another chance to see you.”

You gulp.

“D- don't make me regret it.” You stutter out, trying to stand your ground on your boundaries.

“Never.” He promises, extending his elbow out for you to take. You eagerly oblige, reaching up to grip his bicep securely, maybe a little bit more than necessary.

You keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone on your way out.

He's not driving this time, guiding you toward a very big SUV, with blackout windows and a cozy leather interior.

There’s so much room, enough for him to extend his legs when he slides in beside you, closing the door and tapping twice on the partition separating the two of you from the driver.

“Wow,” you murmur, looking around, even noticing a small fridge in the space across from you, “This- is this yours?”

He hums.

“Technically, they belong to the company, but I get to use it when I need to.”

You blink, realising that he was trying to be humble about it.

Smiling, you turn to look at him, eyes widening when you realise how close he’d gotten to you when you were distracted.

“You smell like me, omega.” He whispers into the space between you, his dark eyes searching yours, leaning in, he presses his nose to your hair.

You hear the soft inhale, your body stiffening, trying to resist your own instinct to present your scent gland to him. His own scent fills the space around you, and his shaky exhale brushes your ear as he leans away.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not pleased by it. You have power over me, sweetheart, I hope you know that.”

Your breaths sharpen, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down harshly trying to recenter your thoughts.

How could he say something like that so easily? As if it were in his nature to be so… devoted.

His gaze dips to your mouth, lingering there for a long moment before he smiles softly.

“How was work today?” He inquires, leaning back further, taking a few deep breaths, in what you can only assume is an attempt to calm himself.

It was great, you want to say, but the words won't come out with the way he's looking at you, as if you're his next meal, or his deity.

You can't decide.

“Omega?”

“Good.” You blurt, losing control of your thinking, did you even really have a good day? You don't have the brain power to remember.

You turn your head away, blinking, trying to… think. It was hard to focus on anything other than him, the way he was filling your head with primal static, the urge to obey, to succumb washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, dropping your head into your hands, “being around you isn’t easy. It’s hard to control myself.”

You feel pressure in your throat, tears springing to your eyes, a dam on the brink of bursting.

His hand presses securely between your shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” He says calmly, you turn your head to find warm, encouraging eyes.

Oh, you think to yourself as you follow his instruction, breathing in softly, feeling those primal desires soften under the guidance of the very man causing them.

“There you go,” His voice makes your stomach flutter, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, little one.”

There he goes again, making you want him.

What would it cost, to reach up and kiss him? To press your fingers into his jaw while your mouths meet, to feel him like that, to exist with him in that way?

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing, living in that thought for a few moments.

When he’s sure you’re calm enough, he smiles.

“Now, let’s start over- was your day actually good?”

You feel amusement rise inside of you.

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “No one yelled at me, so I call it a win.”

He blinks, his expression turning sorrowful.

“People often yell at you?”

You nod.

“Customer service… is an excuse for small people to make someone else feel small.”

Something changes in his eyes, sorrow moulting into something else- his jaw tightening.

“I don't like the sound of that.” He admits.

You offer him a wry smile.

“That's just how things are, I guess. This is what I have to work with.” You stop yourself from complaining more, worried that it might upset him to hear the way people treated you, to hear them make derogatory comments, to question your intellect as if you'd personally inconvenienced them.

His hand moves from your shoulder, tracing its way up to the back of your neck, and then to the side, his thumb in perfect reach of your scent gland and your brain goes hazy at the thought.

Instead of your gland, his thumb reaches up to stroke the edge of your jaw calmly.

“What happens if someone is too aggressive? What's the protocol? Do you transfer them to a manager?”

You gulp, remembering one time that happened, you'd gotten reprimanded after.

“Yeah that's the protocol, but I think it's best if I solve the problem myself, and get approvals on my own. It's not usually good to waste my supervisor's time.”

His thumb gently stroking your cheek lulls you, fits you into a space where you feel safe to talk about these things.

“Does anyone at your job yell at you?”

“Not… yell,” you hesitate for a moment, enjoying his caress, “they're just… warnings. I'm- I try to do my best to avoid that.” You huff out a breath, “I guess I got yelled at once, when I first started, but not after that.”

You gulp, glancing at him, the soft fire in his eyes as he studies you, his thumb dipping, circling the spot right above your gland.

Your lips part, your mind begging you to reach out to him.

The car slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath, eyes widening when you scent the mixture of pheromones in the air, you might as well be begging him on your knees with how potent it was. It sort of surprised you that he was able to resist it.

You want to say something to him, anything to fill the silence that swarms in as your eyes meet his, but your brain is blissfully blank, not a single cohesive thought other than how badly you wanted him.

He gives you a patient smile.

“We’re here.” He says.

“Where?” You ask softly.

“Hotel,” He answers softly, “I rented a room so you can get dressed and meet me in the restaurant for dinner.”

Renting a room? On a second date?

“Oh…” You mumble, trying to figure out if you needed to clarify your boundaries for him again.

You don’t get the chance, the door opens and you have to busy yourself with stepping out instead of addressing your concerns.

He extends his hand for you to take, and you do so eagerly, aching even more when you feel his large hand interlocked with yours.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

The doors close and you can feel your body throbbing. Was he expecting more from you than you were ready for?

“William?”

“Yes, Omega?”

You blink, looking up at him, unable to voice the words, the topic of conversation is too sensitive, the words can barely leave your mouth. Your mind races to find something else to ask.

“Do you- um- live around here?”

He tilts his head for a moment, maybe sensing your hesitation.

“Not really, I live close to where I work, home to office you know?”

You nod, smiling, before facing forward once more, a slither of discomfort in your spine.

You can feel his eyes on you, no doubt trying to read you while you debate whether this was a good idea or not.

When the doors slide open, he begins speaking again.

“I hired a stylist, to help, if that’s okay, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He guides you down a well lit hallway, and stops at a door before turning to face you.

“Is this okay? Or is it too much?” He questions softly, and you dip your head, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s a bit much.” You mumble, looking down at your shoes.

He bends his body, smiling as he manages to fit his head into your line of sight, it pulls a small smile from you too.

“If you could bear with me, omega.” He whispers so softly that the words kick off a yearning need in your head, “I have a surprise that will hopefully make up for it.” 

You tilt your head up, and he moves, straightening his body to remain in your line of sight.

“Okay.” You surrender, trying to allow yourself to be swept up by him, even temporarily.

He gives you a pleased smile, hindbrain preening in response that you’ve made alpha happy. He turns, knocking on the door.

After a few moments, an omega with a kind smile opens the door. He introduces her as Maria, and you spare him one more glance before you step into the room, nodding when he says he’ll see you on the roof in two hours.

.

The elevator plays soft music as you travel upward, the sound of your own breathing heavy in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd picked the right dress, a little self conscious that you'd chosen something that might be too juvenile.

The strawberry dress had been too beautiful, your eyes had been drawn to it the moment you saw it, and no matter how hard you tried to convince Maria that it was a bad idea, she'd insisted that you picked the dress you most loved. 

You really did like it, the tulle and the colour, and the cut of the dress going so low that you'd skipped your bra and used boob tape to hold your cleavage in place.

You weren't sure how painful removal would be, Maria had suggested baby oil, you just hope you had some at home.

She'd fixed your hair into soft curls,  and she was really nice about what you liked and didn't, and by the end of it, she felt more like a friend helping you than a stylist being paid to do so.

The elevator doors open, and you cautiously step out. You take a deep breath through your nose, catching the faded scent of him, and following it.

Down a short hallway, and into a large open restaurant space. It was quiet, void of anyone, tables and booths empty.

You frown a little, confused as to why a restaurant this opulent would be closed. Sure, it was still daylight out on a weekday, but it didn't make sense to you on a business level.

The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with a large pane of glass in the middle of the room, blurry with falling water.

The soft sound invites you, and as you get closer, You make out a wavy silhouette behind the glass.

You step around it, finding William facing the window, looking down at his phone.

He's dressed pristinely in a dark blue shirt, black pants and shoes, though the top buttons on his shirt are open, giving off a more casual vibe than his work shirt from earlier.

You watch him take a slow breath, and then lift his head in realisation, turning to look at you.

You smile at him as he turns, fitting his phone into his pocket in one swift moment, slowly approaching you.

He doesn't say anything, and you're too afraid to see repulsion in his eyes to keep looking at him, so instead you study his attire as well, admiring the way he looks, noticing the delicate silver chain shimmering around his neck as he moves.

He says your name, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as he stands before you.

He takes another slow breath, and raises a hand to push some of your hair away from your scent gland, the tips of his fingers just gently brushing it, eliciting an almost violent shiver of pleasure. 

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Delight bubbles inside of you until you can't resist a pleased smile.

“Thank you, Alpha, you look very nice too.”

When you say his title, you watch his eyes darken, his scent growing a little stronger in the space between you as his body calls out to yours.

You can feel it, the heat between you, the promise that he would take care of your every need no matter what.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you swear his words have a double meaning.

You nod, because you can't say it out loud, that you were starving, famished, not just for food but for the pleasure of his company, for the pleasure of him.

He guides you to the far end of the restaurant, towards a secluded corner, where there's a table waiting for you. 

You don’t get a chance to study the table because you’re distracted by a large… object covered in a velvet shroud. 

You walk around the object, preoccupied with it, turning to look at William with your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s my surprise,” He explains, stepping closer to you so that you can breathe him in, “I hope you like it.”

You look at it, the velvet shroud going up high, hanging precariously from the ceiling you think, one firm tug might bring it down.

When you look back at him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“When can I see what it is?” You ask eagerly.

He blinks, as if coming back to himself, glancing at the object as if he’s just remembered it.

“Take a step back,” He instructs, waiting until you comply to give another directive with a low voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Your heart pounds, excitement and anxiety war within you, the former winning over as you let your eyes close.

You hear footsteps, and then a tug, the sound of the shroud falling and the wind it generates as it does, caressing your face.

There’s a moment of silence, where your impatience fights you to open your eyes before he says, but you try your best to wait for William’s permission.

“You can open them now.”

You gasp in shock when you recognise what you’re looking at.

There’s so much gold, the painting glimmers in the light of the falling sun, you take a step forward, unsure of where to begin your examination. 

You tilt your head, studying the little flowers first, eyes roaming up to examine the clothing of the two subjects in the portrait, then the hands, the different colours, the flowers in her hair, the leaves in his.

A larger, male subject, pressing a kiss onto his lover’s cheek.

The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

“It’s beautiful, so much like the real one.” You murmur absentmindedly.

“It is the real one.” 

You pause, unable to register his words, before turning to him in shock, lips parted.

The alpha’s pleased expression grows into a smile.

“What do you mean this is the real one? The real one’s in Europe somewhere.”

He nods, as if to agree with you.

“Vienna, yes.”

You turn to examine the painting once more.

“...How?...Why?”

“I think you’ll find that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your eyes glitter like they are right now.”

Me? You think in shock, looking away, down, towards the floor, unable to process the implications of his words.

He takes a step closer to you, catching your attention, you turn to him just as he reaches you. 

For a long moment, all you do is look into each other’s eyes. You take a slow breath, breathing in his citrus smell, the bergamot chasing after you.

You turn your head back to the painting, studying it while you feel his eyes on you.

“It’s gorgeous, Alpha, thank you.” You feel so much emotion, that it fills your throat and threatens to spill out.

Your lip wobbles, glancing up at him for a moment, and then turning away when you realise that he can probably see the tears in your eyes.

You feel his hand on your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?”

“It’s stupid, sorry.” You take a deep breath, sighing when he extends a handkerchief to you that you accept gratefully.

His hand moves, to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Talk to me.” He whispers, his breath disturbing your hair.

“No one’s ever-” You let out a little laugh of delirium, “-No one’s ever done something so thoughtful for me.”

He hums, as though he understands, sympathizes with you, he wraps his arms around you, tucks your head into his chest.

His scent wraps around you, soothing you almost instantly, your eyes flutter shut as you register the beat of his heart below your ear.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

You do.

.

Dinner comes in a few moments later, and he guides you to the table just behind, with soft, comfortable chairs to settle into. He even checks in on your level of ease, inquiring about the brightness, and whether or not it was satisfactory. You smile softly, calmly reassuring him that the area was perfect, the tint on the windows keeping the intensity of the light low. Dim and comfortable, you can’t really ask for anything more.

The first course is a light broth, and you're a little confused that they brought this out without having you look at a menu.

It's definitely refreshing, to not have to struggle with a decision on what to eat, but you're not sure if to ask William about it, in case it's just some rich person custom that you're unfamiliar with.

In any case, this arrangement pleases you because it means you can stare at The Kiss in admiration while the sun sets, casting a soft orange glow around the room, enhancing the mostly gold painting.

“Will you tell me about it?” William asks, and you spare a shy glance at him.

He tilts his head in the direction of the painting. You swallow your food, gathering your thoughts to answer.

“It's inspired by the painter and his lover, it's one of the most popular paintings of an alpha and omega pairing. There was a… speculation that they were soulmates, but I'm not sure how true that is. Some people think that because the omega is turning away, that the kiss isn't consensual… but I don't think so, she seems… happy to me.”

“You don't think they were soulmates?”

You turn to William.

“Not really, I don't… believe in the soulmate theory.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“No?” He says curiously.

You shake your head.

“It's a little unreal to think that there’s some kind of perfect match for a person.” 

“It's not necessarily a perfect match like in the movies, it's a suggestion of… compatibility really.” He says.

You blink, studying his expression, wanting to express your disbelief that he would believe in something so farfetched but not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It's not even a perfect match, it's the way the theory specifically targets alpha and omega pairings. As if omegas aren't already bound by their biology enough, someone had to come up with an idea to hold us back even further by romanticising the concept of an alpha match.” You keep your tone calm, so that he understands you're not upset.

He tilts his head in contemplation.

“You don't like the idea of being with an alpha?”

You swallow.

“That's… not what I mean. I just don't like being forced into thinking that it's my only option in search of companionship.”

He makes a face of contemplation, seeming to understand where you were coming from.

Plus, it was a trick alphas had used with you in the past to encourage you to stay in toxic environments.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

You had been fooled before, it would not happen again.

William studies you for a long moment, and you gaze back evenly, before he smiles, tilting his head once more to lighten the mood.

“You make a good point, but still, I can’t help but point out the ways alphas are made for omegas, of course a pairing between them would be stronger.”

His words take you aback, it's the first time someone has ever made the comment that alphas are the ones made for omegas, usually they say it the other way around.

“Maybe…” You concede, unable to stop yourself from thinking about his words. You wonder for a brief moment if he was made for you.

It sends a warm feeling across your chest.

You turn your head, looking up at The Kiss.

“My past experience has made me skeptical about the entire theory, Alphas before have used it to keep me compliant.”

He lets out an audible breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, you find his fists curled and his head dipped low.

The scent of anger hits you, spicy in the air, like a mix between smoke and hot peppers.

“Alpha?” You whisper in concern, worried that his anger is directed toward you.

Tentatively, you reach out, fingers shaking slightly as you touch one of his clenched fists.

He relaxes the fist, turns his hand upward so that his palm is pressed upward into yours. Your palm tingles where you touch.

“Angry on your behalf, omega,” He tries to explain with a low voice, “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

Realisation washes over you. The smell of his anger excites you now that you understand it's not directed at you.

You feel butterflies, you feel warmth, you suck in a deep breath to get some semblance of control over your hindbrain.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Your voice, almost a purr.

He blinks, studying you,  his eyes shifting from surprise to pleased as he realises the effect he has on you.

The sound of footsteps coming your way makes you draw back.

The second course is lobster pasta, creamy and delicious and you try extra hard not to make yourself messy while eating it.

“What do you think?” He asks between bites of his food.

You look up, eyes wide as he gazes back at you.

You swallow your food, thinking hard about what to say.

“I'm still skeptical about the soulmate theory, but maybe you're right that it does exist. Looking at the painting up close, you see that gold aura surrounding both of them? I think that's supposed to represent their bond. They loved each other, there's no question there.”

You watch a smile pull onto his perfect face.

“I meant the meal, sweetheart.”

Your face grows warm.

“Oh… It's good!” You look down at the plate shyly, “Yeah.”

He chuckles. 

“You're very cute when you're shy.”

You bite the edge of your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He grins down at you and something warm settles in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you could, maybe he would let you. 

In this beautiful dress you feel like you're not yourself, your insecurities washing away under his gaze. For the first time, you’re just an omega, enjoying the company of an alpha that you hope could be yours in time.

You think about being in his arms, the way he makes you feel, his ability to soothe you, the ways you hope he would sate you.

You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before your pheromones give away your needy state of mind.

Should you take him up on his offer to be his Omega? Would it be possible to balance that? How would it even work?

“William?” You say softly.

He pauses his movements to look at you.

“Earlier- Maria called you ‘Billy’- made me wonder if you were friends?”

The corner of his lips pull into an affectionate smile, you try really hard not to worry about the other omega.

“Maria is mated to my brother, Frank. She owns a small salon on the east side, I thought she would help you feel comfortable.”

That's so thoughtful, you think.

“Yes, she was amazing, thank you.”

If this was a trap, then it was well set, you couldn't see a flaw, you didn't have any reason to think he could be like other Alphas.

“Everyone has called me “Billy” for as long as I can remember. My real name had never really appealed to me until I heard you say it.”

You give him a warm smile, your stomach fluttering at the privilege you didn't realize you had until now.

You wanted this so much that it terrified you. To be his Omega- what would it be like? To have unrestrained access to him, to be able to scent him as you please, to be scented in return.

He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away, it catches your attention. Your eyes widen when you realise your pheromones are heavy in the air.

His eyes roll shut, he lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling because of you for the second time tonight.

It doesn't help, the look of him, barely restrained, fighting his nature with every ounce of self control only makes you want him more.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, scared to break his focus.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

“Don't be.” He responds, his voice so deep that it almost makes you shiver with how pleasing it sounds.

You suck in deep breaths too, to calm yourself, eyes drifting to the painting to let it distract you.

You certainly were a match, there was no question about it, the urge to tear at each other was there, the only thing holding you back was social etiquette, and your internal reservations.

The effect your heat must have had on him- you almost feel sorry for what you might have put him through. 

Dessert is a caramel drizzled pecan cookie, soft and chewy, the right amount of spices and sugar that makes you lick your fingers afterwards with the knowledge that it was the best cookie you've ever had.

You catch him looking at you with kind eyes and you try your best not to shy away from his gaze.

When you excuse yourself to the restroom, you try to look like you know where you're going, at least until you're out of his eyesight, and then you wander around the empty restaurant until you find a sign pointing you in the right direction.

You’re in one of the stalls when you hear loud voices and footsteps.

“-my god! That is literally the hottest Alpha I’ve ever seen in real life.” A first voice says, on the side of a little too high pitched for your sensitive ears.

“I knoooow,” The other person responds, “I would literally do anything he asked me to do.”

You pause, feeling a little strange to interrupt their obviously personal conversation by stepping out.

“I heard from Tim that he rented out the entire restaurant for the night just to impress some omega.”

Wait, were they talking about William?

You hear the stall next to you open and close, the taps turning on.

“No, I think they had to clear the restaurant for the night because of the painting and something about security.”

“Oh, that makes sense, the amount he must have paid to get all that done in one evening. God, I would jump him literally after dessert.”

You hear a groan, the sound of water as the taps turn on.

“I know right? I’ve been totally scenting the air in hopes that he gives me a second look. Nothing too obvious, only subtle enough for him. I really, really hope…”

The rest is unintelligible as the voices fade.

You wait a few more moments to make sure they’re really gone before you unlatch the door and step out.

It’s a lot of information to have overheard, and you’re not really sure what to think.

You step up to the sink, washing your hands methodically, reaching for a little towel to dry your hands, before looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You smile at yourself, hindbrain preening that Alpha had gone through such lengths to capture and hold your attention. That maybe, Alpha wanted you, really really wanted you and no other omega would do.

He’s standing at the painting when you see him again, the table has been cleared, and you watch him as he focuses on the canvas in front of him.

He turns to look at you when he catches movement in his peripherals.

You’re very skittish to approach him, your mind spinning at a mile a minute, trying to both overthink and under simplify the actions you want to make.

The expression on your face must worry him, his eyebrows draw together as he studies you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks calmly, and you lift your head, studying his face of concentration.

You part your lips, trying to speak, no words able to leave your moving lips.

He dips his head, trying to make sense of the nothingness escaping you.

His scent fills your nose, the citrus, the bergamot, a very new touch of spice that pushes your hindbrain into desperation.

“Alpha.” You whisper softly, a touch of yearning in your voice, tilting your head up to press your lips to his.

It’s an instant, and total erasure of any higher thought. The way his mouth feels against yours, like something ancient and primal finding its way back to each other again. A familiarity that your mind and body has been searching for from the day you presented. 

It’s over too soon, even though it feels like it lasted forever. Time slows as you lean away, looking up at him, searching his eyes for any sign that you’ve made the wrong move, the ghost of his touch tingling at your lips.

You listen to the depth of his breathing, your heart hammering anxiously in your chest, awaiting his reaction. You catch a flare of his scent, the citrus notes deepening and your hindbrain eases your anxiety, a response that tells you that Alpha is pleased.

Finally, he makes a low hum, stepping forward, one arm winding around your back so that your bodies are pressed flush to each other.

“Omega.” He rumbles in response, fingers under your chin to tilt your head, guiding your mouth to his once more.

His mouth is insistent, pressing back, meeting every move of your desire with a response of his own. He moans, his warm breath on your tongue as the kiss grows into something… more.

Losing yourself, your hands cling to his shoulders, finding balance as you rise onto your toes, desperate to taste him, to feel the ache of yearning ease with each move of his mouth.

His lips are soft, sinful, you can feel his barely restrained movements, his hand gliding to grip the back of your neck, trapping you in place as if you could ever think about departing from his embrace.

Your scent gland tingles, spilling your need into the air, your body trying its best to entice him.

His mouth grows more insistent, demanding, and you find yourself responding, lips parting, tongue reaching out to gently graze along his bottom lip. 

His hold on you tightens, fingers gripping your hip deliciously, desire pooling low in your stomach in response.

Both of his hands cup your face, kisses slowing as if he's trying to find the strength to stop but unable to.

You smile into the kisses, each one more meaningful than the last, until finally he pauses, looking down at you with a pleased expression on his face.

His thumb glides along your lips, the scent of both your desires intermingling heavily in the air.

“I take it then, that you don't want me to leave you alone after this?” 

You huff out a laugh, almost rolling your eyes.

He grins too, before leaning in to get one more kiss.

“Maybe,” you murmur softly, “Maybe I don't.”

He hums in agreement, dipping his head, unable to stop himself from getting yet another kiss.

Your heart feels so full in your chest, it feels like you're going to burst with the flood of emotion. He doesn't push you into anything, avoids touching your scent glands though you know you both want him to. You can feel his fingers tightening their grip on your cheek and jaw, trying their hardest not to wander.

His scent grows more potent in the room, and by the time you leave, the betas in the restaurant are giving him their largest doe eyed stares.

It's a shame for them that he barely spares them a glance, his hand settled on the small of your back to put you at ease by making you feel protected.

His scent overwhelms you in the car, but you've been aching and wet for a while and you've just kind of gotten used to the discomforts of unresolved desire. You know without a doubt that you're going to have to relieve this ache inside of you by yourself tonight, and it's definitely going to be his name on your tongue the entire time you do it.

You take a long look at him beside you, and you wonder if he would be doing the same.

Tucked into his side, it's easy to tilt your head up, and press your nose to his scent gland, breathing him in, hearing him groan in response, your body tingling.

He doesn't stop you, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip hard to stop yourself from kissing the spot on the base of his neck.

It's surreal, the time you spend with him, that when he stops at the wrong building, it's like a punch to the gut.

This is where you'd lied and told him you lived… because you were ashamed of your real address.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks politely, warm reassurance in his eyes that he simply wants to make sure you're safe.

“No.” You answer hastily, smiling in an attempt to put him at ease, “I'm alright, thank you.”

You glance down at your strawberry dress, anxiety filling you at the thought of being seen in something like this, that it might catch attention you didn't want.

“It's cold outside, do you want my coat?”

You blink up at him in surprise.

He gives you a teasing smile, reaching for a garment on the seat in front of him, producing a familiar coat and extending it to you.

You swallow, accepting the coat on autopilot, face heating as you remember the things you did with this coat during your last heat.

You bring it up to your nose, hindbrain in control, taking a slow inhale of his scent.

Fuck, it was delicious. Your mouth waters as you meet his dark eyes.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You purr, sliding the coat on, over your dress, watching his eyes darken further at the sound of your voice.

He reaches up, trapping a lock of your hair between his fingers, twisting it, tugging on it gently as his hand slides down.

He looks like he’s deep in thought, but you’re just not sure about what.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

Stepping out of the car, leaving him behind, your limbs grow heavy with protest the further away you get from him.

When you make it into the building, you finally see his SUV drive away.

.

There’s an ache to leaving you behind that leaves Billy both confused and captivated.

He lets out a slow breath, sinking into the seat, head tipped back. 

Keeping himself in check had been the most difficult thing he’d ever experienced. To look at you, was to want you, and to want you, was to need you. Every look, every touch, every smile on your mouth was a lesson in self control. 

He was unbelievably afraid of scaring you away, that his control would slip, and his desires would show, and they would terrify you into leaving.

The ways he wanted you, the ways he thought about you. He lets out a soft groan, tugging at his shirt to get himself more air, but all he can smell is you.

He wants the feel of your bare hips in his hands, the taste of your skin in his mouth, his lips over your scent gland, your pitiful little whines filling his ears as he takes his time with you, discovering every way one human can make another fall apart, so that he can put you back together again.

Thoughts, that were maybe too insane to be thinking after a second date. Thoughts that would make you run if you knew just how close he’d been to actually carrying them out. No Omega, had ever made him hurt with the fear of rejection quite like this before.

That solid ache in his chest to be in your presence was only getting stronger, and then you'd kissed him.

He lifts a hand, pressing it to his mouth, remembering the way your lips had felt, the way your scent had sweetened. He resists a groan, your scent calling out to him like a beacon in the dark.

With his eyes closed, he could feel a pull, drawing him in the opposite direction of where he was going.

His apartment is lonely. The silence is loud, the smell is all wrong. He fits himself into his single sofa chair, large enough that his pretty Omega could fit herself into the space beside him, or on top of him if she’d like. He sips on the whiskey in his hand, an attempt to ease his nerves, to make the wrongness of his place feel a little less so.

He lets the silence fill him, wonders what you’re doing, thinks about texting you. He opens his phone and sees all his sent messages.

Billy hesitates.

Maybe he should wait, let you reach out this time, whenever you were ready. 

Puts his phone down, thinks about you more, groans when he catches your scent on his clothes.

It hurt to wait. It made his chest burn with the notion that he couldn’t just reach out to you, because you might draw back.

He presses a hand to his chest, tries to take a deep breath and be patient.

The whiskey is almost finished when he feels his phone vibrate.

He picks it up, and smiles.

.

.

.

[luveline]

Jade I’ve been WAITING and HOPING for you to ask about spider verse and/or Miguel requests. He is the epitome of grumpy love interest falls for sunshine reader, would you maybe write something where he’s like in the midst of being scary and intimidating and then when reader walks in he is trying to maintain that image in front of whoever else is there but she just like totally ignores it and basically exposes how soft he is?

Obviously feel free to take or leave whatever parts of that you like I just love grumpy x sunshine

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

thank you for your request! for you my love, grumpy (lovesick) miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader, 1.5k

Miguel spends a lot of time arguing with Peter B. Parker, or as you've so fondly nicknamed him, Sweatpants-Man. Well, Miguel spends a lot of time yelling at him. It stopped for a while; Peter B. Parker took some time away from the Spider Society, but eventually he returned with a brand new spider. A baby girl. 

You linger at the door, startled to find him in company, but pleased when he isn't yelling as loudly as he could be. He looks desperately as though he wants to shout, and is holding back through sheer force of will, his eyes widened and his hair falling in unruly waves over his forehead, strands of it curled into his eyes. 

Miguel is a worrier. It isn't his fault. He's a great man with responsibilities beyond his control, and he may not always react how he should, but he tries his best. You don't agree with everything he does, but you like him. You adore him. For all of his goodness, his bravery, and the smile he gives you when you're alone. 

He's clearly troubled by something. 

"I don't really see the harm, I won't tell him a thing," Peter B. Parker says.

"Why do you refuse to listen to me? No. End of discussion." 

"I think we should reopen the discussion," Peter B. Parker says. 

He and Miguel are friends, you think. They would have been best buddies by now if Peter could abide by Miguel's rules. Then again, you ignore the rules often and indiscriminately, and Miguel likes you.

He's scraping his hair out of his eyes now, a fierce glare fixed on Peter's face, and you have the urge to go in there and try to persuade him to give Peter whatever it is he's asking for. You're almost certain you could do it. 

Not through your sheer mastery of the persuasive arts, though you have mastered them, but because Miguel O'Hara has a soft spot for you. He tries to hide it and you refuse to let him. You haven't tried to kiss him or anything (you secretly aren't that brave) but you run circles around him for fun, only letting him boss you around every now and then to keep things loose. You could be much meaner about the whole thing: what is so humiliating as falling for your lackadaisical subordinate? But you don't hold it against him, because he likely isn't finished falling yet, and because you really do like him. 

You pull your mask off of your face and then your gloves, shoving them into a concealed pocket on your thigh. 

"Miguel," you murmur, knowing he'll hear you no matter the volume, "what's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't glance your way. 

Peter B. Parker's shoulders sag in relief at your appearance. "Thank god you're here," he says. 

You hadn't realised Peter knew who you were. "I'm here," you repeat mildly. 

"Tell Miguel that the risk involved with visiting Earth-1610 is super, duper small." 

"Well, it is negligible," you murmur, though Peter's quest isn't your prerogative. 

Miguel groans loud and unapologetically. 

You stand near Miguel and look up at him. He's ridiculously tall. You’d have to crane your neck if you stood at his feet. You maintain some distance and look him over from a gentler incline, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes for the hundredth time. They don't look too bad today, but you wish he'd get more rest. 

He has a very fierce face, but you know how it softens when he laughs. It's hard to find his glaring intimidating when you've witnessed the white flash of sharp teeth as he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his eyebrows relax from their stern set when you bring him something to eat on late nights. It's almost always smothered as soon as it happens, but it does happen. 

"The risk involved is not super small," he says, still not looking at you, "the risk involved is actually incredibly big, and it isn't worth it." 

Peter puts his arms out just as Mayday drops from the rafters above. You huff a laugh at his coordination and Mayday starts to laugh, her knitted beanie drooping into her eyes. 

"Hi, baby," you say softly, reaching out to hold her hand. She squeezes your fingers. 

"It's worth the risk. Absolutely, it's worth the risk, and I would argue that me visiting would actually strengthen the state of the multiverse–" 

"In what scenario–" 

"–and, like, make your job easier." Peter stops Mayday from climbing up your shoulder. 

"If there's one thing you've never done, Peter, it's make my job easier. I can't believe you're asking me again," Miguel says, taking a big breath, like he's going to pop. 

You step away from Peter to catch Miguel's attention. When his eyes lock onto yours, you smile as fondly as you're able, the kind of smile you know he likes. Your eyes widen just a touch and your eyebrows rise, the corners of your mouth not quite dimpling. It's a smile that says all the same stuff you love to say aloud. Hi, handsome. What's got you so stressed today? 

"Don't be like that, Miguel," Peter says. 

You tilt your head to one side. "You don't look very well," you say. 

"I'm fine." There's a thread of gentleness there, almost indistinguishable from his serious tone. "Or I would be, if Peter would listen to me for once." 

"I'm listening, man, I just think you should see sense." 

Miguel's face flickers like he wants to correct him, but he keeps getting caught on you. Nothing specific, just that his gaze lands on your face or your shoulder or your arm before he looks at Peter, and all the steam rushes out of him. He’s trying not to smile at you.

"I see sense," Miguel insists. It's like he wants to be angrier than he has, gritting his teeth weakly. "It's not feasible right now." 

You smile at that. Right now. You're not sure he's ever said something that could lead to a compromise. You are sure that he hadn't meant to. Peter is understandably thrilled, hiding his own smile as he puts Mayday back into her carrier. 

"Alright. Well, I've gotta take her home. But I'll see you both again soon," Peter threatens, wiggling his eyebrows. "Thank you," he adds, nodding at you. 

You laugh as he leaves. Miguel is nowhere near as pleased. 

"You did that on purpose," Miguel says. 

"I did what on purpose?" 

"Coming in here." 

"Yeah, of course. I come to see you all the time on purpose. Did you think I was drifting in here on the breeze? That would be difficult, considering." You gesture to the entrance of his office, which is far from easily accessible. 

Miguel looks at you, unimpressed, with his hands on his hips. You wonder what it would take to make him put his hands on yours. 

"Don't even think about it," he says. 

"About what, handsome?" 

"You think I don't know what that look means?" He sounds fond rather than angry. It's a win. 

"I bet you know, but I'm in the dark, so if you'd… illuminate it for me, that would be greatly appreciated." 

He checks that no one's about to enter his office. You feel your heart jerk in your chest, and if his super senses are anything like the other Spider People, he can hear it. 

"You really can't come in here when I'm trying to set people straight," he says. 

"Why?" you ask. You could pout at him, but you think that might be too much. 

"You know why." Somewhere between words he drifts closer, soundless, his face inching down toward yours with a surprising swiftness. "You know why," he repeats.

You lift your chin as much as you dare, which isn't much, but enough that your giggly confirmation fans over his lips, "Yes, I do." 

He nudges you away, and it isn't without affection. His warm, big hand lingers on your shoulder, even as he says, "Go, go do something." 

"Miguel, I came to see you." 

"I know, and I have a meeting with Jess in a minute, so you can't be here. It'll undermine my authority." 

"What will?" you ask, smiling, because you already know. His fondness for you. 

"Go away. Come and see me later," he says. 

You sigh and spin away from him. "I will, but not because you told me to!" you call, leaving the office with an awful sense of victory. 

Miguel scrubs his face with his hands as you go. He's really not sure what he's going to do with you. His plan to hold you at arm’s length isn’t working anymore, and honestly? He doesn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. Thank whoever’s watching over him that you actually do as he asks for once and leave. 

Miguel was one sweet smile away from kissing you up against the wall.

[fictionalwench]

Want

Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings: smut, age gap, size kink slightly, praise, foul language, Jim being fucking oblivious.

Hoppers old.

Or getting there at least.

And he knows it.

   But somehow you're still here in his bed, your youthful cheek squished against his chest, your arm thrown around his middle that he knows isn't as toned as it used to be. 'A Dad bod,' you'd called it. Said it was hot. He'd just rolled his eyes, giving your ass a playful swat.

   You'd met when you began secretary work at the police station. It was a long, pining heavy minute before he ever approached you romantically. You'd flirted with him, or tried, but he couldn't possibly fathom someone as young and vibrant as you wanting him. He'd tried to avoid you, despite working so closely together. That all changed one night when he had to stay late to do paperwork, and you'd volunteered to stay behind to help. He'd tried insisting you go home, telling you he'd take care of it, saying you should get some rest. But you'd stayed, helpfully pointing out that it'd go twice as fast with 2 people.

   So there he was, 1am with the prettiest girl to give him any attention in a long time, your thigh bumping his under the table. He crosses his legs. Partially to put space between the two of you, partially to hide the growing tent at the front of his pants.

The view you'd given him wasn't helping. The white button down you wore was slightly undone at top, unbuttoned in you're frustration, allowing him a view of your breasts swelling past the top of your bra everytime you bent to retrieve your dropped pen.

   You're barely through half the stack of reports and files when you suddenly stand and lean across him, your hair in his face, your chest brushing his arm.

   'Sorry Cheif, just looking for the notes that go with this case,' you explained, flipping through the stack. He let out an involuntary groan, the scent of your shampoo flooding his senses, his cock straining painfully against his pants. If you heard, you never let on, finding the folder you were looking for and sitting back down. Looking back now, the memory makes him chuckle, wondering how he'd been so oblivious to your advances.

   'I'm gonna..ima run to my office quick,' he said, standing and turning quickly, 'left some notes somewhere in my desk. Might be a minute.'

   'O-oh! Take your time!' You told him, but you looked-and it had to be his mind playing tricks on him-disappointed? He shook his head as he hurried off to his office, quickly shutting the door behind him, fumbling with his belt, desperate for some relief from the pressure. He fell back into his chair, giving his throbbing cock a couple long pumps.

   'Fuuuck,' he breathed, precum leaking out of the angry red tip and onto his fingers. He used it to glide his hand over himself with ease, moaning as he imagined it was your spit, your pretty lips wrapped around him, bobbing your head up and down, those big innocent eyes staring into his. Your name tumbles from his mouth, sweet on his tongue.

   Just as he felt his release rising in him, there was a knock on the door.

His door.

That he forgot to lock.

    There was no time to stuff himself back into his pants before you're opening the door and peaking your head in, so he just spun his chair to face front, hiding his lap under his desk.

   'Hop? Everything good? You find those papers?' You asked, knitting your eyebrows together, making him want to kiss the bump that formed between them.

   'Oh, yea, no, sorry,' he said a little too quickly, 'I uh, I think Flow might have had them last, but she keeps her desk locked at night. No big deal.' He shrugged, wishing you'd take his explanation and leave. He was still exposed under his desk, twitching, his release still sitting on the brink.

   Instead of leaving, you stride into the room, shutting the door behind you, 'maybe they're still in here. Here, lemme che-,' you'd walked around the edge of his desk and he'd nearly jumped to stop you.

   'No! That's REALLY ok, it doesn't matt-,' he didn't speak quickly enough, watching in horror as you shut the drawer open next him, finally exposing his dirty secret to yourself. He braced himself, ready for you to scream, ready for you to call him a dirty old man, a pig, ready for the profanities to spill like venom from the mouth he'd wished so many times to kiss.

   But it never came. You just stood there, your mouth open in a small O shape, your clear and intelligent eyes wide.

   'I'm so sorry,' he breathed, and moved to pull his pants back up, his face cherry red, 'God, I'm sorry, please-' you stopped him in his tracks, resting your small, soft hand on one of his large calloused ones. You bit your lip and looked up through your lashes at him, and he swears he's never wanted anyone or anything like he did in that moment.

   'I thought- thought you-,' you spoke softly, fumbling over your words, and then you whispered 'I thought you didn't want me.'

   He pulled you forward by your waist at this, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing out shakily, 'you have no idea how long I've wanted...' He trailed off, brushing his hands lightly over both sides of your face, like you're delicate and precious, like he could break you if he touched you too hard.

He wanted to break you.

   'Can- can I?' He looked at your lips as he asked his half question. He didn't need to finish. You knew what he meant because you wanted the same thing. You nodded slowly and bit your lip again. He threw  his head back and whispered a curse under his breath, and sighed, 'let me do that for you.'

   He kissed you softly at first, his pointer finger and thumb tilting your head by your chin. And then he got hungrier, greedier. He kissed you like you were fresh air and he was a man drowning, his fingers digging so hard into your sides that you could imagine his fingerprints bruising onto your skin, his teeth nipping the soft flesh. He kissed down your jaw and neck, his stubble scratching and tickling your skin in just the right way, and you moaned, digging your nails into his back. He pulled you down onto his thigh, one leg on each side of his, the pressure and friction on your clit making you dizzy.

   'So damn beautiful,' he said it against your skin, like it pained him, and it did. In his mind, this was a fluke. There was no way you'd want him more than once. Sex with an older man, that's all it was. Just a taboo to you.

   So when you ran your hands down his chest and sang his praises, he thought he was going to melt right then and there.

   He put his hands on your hips and began guiding you on his thigh, relishing the way your eyes flit back into your head. 'Yeah sweet girl? Feel good? Come on, ride my thigh, get yourself nice and wet for me. That's a good girl' he growled the last part, ripping open your shirt, the snap buttons coming open with a loud CLACK. He bent his head and softly kissed your chest, sucking and leaving hickeys anywhere that wasn't covered by your bra.

   As if reading his mind, you reached around and undid the clasp, letting both your shirt and your bra fall off your shoulders. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as he looked at you. The moonlight from the window behind him illuminating your skin, your head thrown back and your eyes shut tight as you ground yourself onto him. The need to be close to you was settled in his very bones, every fiber of his being wanted you like an addict wants a drug.

   He had so much he wanted to do. He wanted to sit you on the desk and bury his face between the pillowy thighs he so often found himself daydreaming about. Wanted to see you bruising your knees for him, your eyes glassy while he hits the back of your throat. But all that could wait. He needed you too badly to take his time, to worship your body like the alter it was to him.

   'Want me pumpkin? Hm? Need me to stretch you out good? Make you feel full?' He purred, brushing the hair from your face. You could hardly answer, your mind already so scrambled for him, babbling your pleas and cries.

   He lifted you by your thighs, his hands finding home on your ass under your skirt as he held you above him, ready to lower you down onto him. He couldn't believe his luck as he watched you in wonder, his head falling forwards and into the crook your neck as you lowered yourself onto him, your tightness wrapping around him, ripping a loud, full moan from his throat. He helped you bounce, keeping you upright as you fucked yourself onto him, kissing him hard and deliberately.

   'Jus' like that honey. Fuck, you're so good. Wanted you for so long. Drive me absolutely insane,' you felt him say against your lips. He hugged you tight to him, one hand cradling the back of your head, and bucked his hips up into yours, holding you and cooing sweet praises as he used you, just like he always wanted to. The amount of times he'd imagined this exact scenario at night, when the only one to keep him company was his hand, was uncountable.

   He could feel his orgasam rising again already, and he would have been disappointed in himself if he couldn't feel you reaching your own breaking point.

   'Gonna cum for me? Hm? Gonna cum for your Police Cheif like a good little whore?' Oh, he was loving this. 'Where do you want it baby? Where do you want me to cum? All over that pretty face? On those perfect tits of yours?'

   You're were panting, your face pressed to his shoulder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

   'Jim- I,' you stumbled over your words, moaning as he hit your sweet spot over and over again, 'pill. Have the pill.'

   His head spun, 'yea? Want me to fill you up with my cum? I wanna see it leaking all over those perfect fucking thighs of yours, oh FU-' he almost loses himself to his own words, hips slamming messily against your ass.

   'Cum for me princess. That's it, be a good girl, scream it for me.'

   And you did, your release white hot. You pulled down the collar of his shirt, biting his shoulder, leaving teeth marks he was still admiring in the mirror the next day.

   He followed you closely, shooting thick, hot ropes inside of you, moaning and cursing, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you shook against him.

   'Did so good f'me honey. Made me cum so hard. God,'  he buried his face in your neck and breathed in, high off the scent of you and him mixed together.

  

Now, as you stir against him, whining softly in your sleep when he kisses your forehead because he just can't help himself, he smiles softly.

   He might be old, but damn do you love him. And if a few gray hairs don't bother you, then he can keep coping with it.

[rexhya]

You the reader have built a successful career as a jujitsu sorcerer. The pay is great, but the hours are long and stressful. After completing an extra grueling mission, the reader decide to reward herself by taking a few days off for a much needed stay home vacation. That means no missions, no meetings, and no emergency calls! The only thing the reader has to concern herself with is how she is going to enjoy the warm spring weather.  The night before the reader’s vacation, she is met with a call from Nanami. No one is sure how, but Gojo has been hit by a curse! Is he okay? Sort of... He has not been physically harmed but our beloved white-haired sorcerer has been turned into a cat! Since the reader has the next few days off, it has been decided that she will be the one to care for the feline. Any concerns from the reader are brush aside and she is assured that the curse will (hopefully) wear off after a few days. So tell me my dear Rexhya, how does the rest of the reader’s vacation pan out with cat Gojo?

days spent w/ catoru — ✦ ✦

warn — not proofread!

incl — catoru

You stretched your back wildly, todays missions were grueling as usual. One special grade was enough to make you wanna take a break for ages. Luckily you didn't have to wish, today was your last work day before a week long vacation full of irresponsible spending and vegging out. Someone had to spend that sorcerer money.

You sighed again, trying to settle into your nightmare routine when your phone began ringing. It was from Nanami, and you automatically let out a breath of desperation. You and Nanami were close but both agreed to not call each other outside of work unless it was work related. This would be bad

"Hey, this still counts as my day off, no takebacks." you groaned, phone to your ear.

"And I apologize for that however this has nothing to do with your time off I'm afraid."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"Explain, you're making me nervous..."

And he does, you almost want to hang up because of how rediculus it sounds.

"Gojo's been hit with a curse...and now he's a cat?"

"Correct."

"And you've deemed me responsible for taking care of him."

"Also correct."

"On my days off."

Nanami, sighed. "Once again, I apologize, this is secondhand information for me as well. A decision not made by me, they say it'll wear off in a couple of days."

You sigh again, soaking into your bath, "Well in that case I suppose it's fine. Send him over or do whatever it is you need to do, so just as long as I can continue my own life." Nanami grunted and hung up the phone, this probably wouldn't be to hard. You've known Gojo for a long time now, his personality was already something similar of a feline anyways.

How hard could this be?

"Meow."

You stare at the soft whites of the cat in front of you. His vivid blue eyes piercing yours.

You cocked your head sideways, Gojo cheekily doing the same.

You furrowed your brows, "Copy Cat." but he only meowed softly, nuzzling your fingers as if he were a real cat.

"You know I'm not going to spoil you or anything like that, you're probably going to be gone in a week so don't get your hopes up or anything." Gojo made a rather halarious gesture with his jaw, flicking his tail in mock irritation. After he'd been hit by this quirk things had been going in circles, but he knew one thing and that was in this cat form, you would have full advantage of him and he would make you pay attention to him if it was the last thing he did.

It was only the first day of you vacation, you didn't have any plans besides catching up on shows and lazing around all day, even with your new companion that wouldn't stop you. You slumped into the couch tiredly, practically ignore Satoru in a his fluffy whiteness.

"Mreowww." the cat had whined, pawing at your leg insistently.

You ignored him, this behavior wasn't much different from the regular Gojo anyways.

"MERRWWWW," he was practically hissing at this point. You rolled your eyes and paused your show, "What."

"Meow?" he cocked his head sideways, you didn't buy into the innocent act but decided to entertain him anyway. He continued pawing at you untill you leaned over so that your head was facing his directly.

"What, was is it Satoru, I'm trying to watch my show here." Satoru said nothing as he climbed his way up your legs and onto your lap, nuzzling your hands affectionately.

"Are you seriously asking me to pet you?" you said incredulously.

"Merw." and presented himself before you.

"You're not a real cat you know, this is only temporary so don't get used to it." but you began stroking the feline anyways, scratching under his chin and running fingers through his long fur. A very loud and prominent purring sound could be heard coming from him, although knowing Gojo, most of it was probably exaggerated.

Not long after this a simple routine between the two of you developed. You go, he goes. You stay, he stays. It was aroundmid week when your pretty little kitty became a slight problem.

"GOJO NO, LET GO OF HIM YOU TYRANT." but the cat just wasn't budging, his teeth and cawls fully gripped on the store employee who was helping you buy items for Gojos stay.

You hadn't even known what went wrong, one moment you were talking to the guy, joking in fact, the next Satoru's claws were wrapped around the poor mans neck, practically trying to kill him. And for what reason you had no clue, could Gojo seriously be turning to an animal?

"Get, off of him sicko." you finally were able to pry him off, but the guy was already a bloody mess. Gojo only hissed as he cradled his neck, was there some sort of cursed energy you couldnt detect or something? You doubted it. Even if you weren't the strongest sorcerer you were no doubt an extremely powerful ome. A curse during this time wouldn't have gotten past you.

"God, I am so sorry. Are you okay?" the man nodded and temderly nodded.

"Y-yeah, fistey little cat you got there." you smiled, at least he wasn't mad, though he had total right to be. People shouldn't bring there pets into stores if they can't handle them.

"Yeah, he's been very irritating these days." Satoru shrunk back into his cage, and for a second he almost looked scared.

You offered to help the worker but he insisted he was fine, thankfully. You immediately put Satoru in timeout, ignoring his insistent calls for you, he was so loud you almosost gave in.

You stood your ground howeverx you wouldn't let anyone be hurt by him under your care anymorre.

Gojo didn't seem to mind though, after all you wlats returned to him.

+ bonus !!

satoru: lying in you bed like its his, it's you last day of vacation

you: lying there as well

you: welp, time for bed i guess

overnight: you arise to a very tall and veryy lanky, 6 foot blue eyed non feline in your bed

you: you have GOT to be kidding me

satoru: merw?

[thebluester2020]

If you're taking writing comissions.. I really liked your post about sdv bachelors with reader who squirts...but let's turn it around! How about a farmer (female) who is really quiet during sex? Cuz you know, when she was touching herself alone, she didn't want to be loud and it stayed that way. You don't have to write all the bachelors, I'm interested in Harvey 👀 I imagine he would be concerned at first and overthinking if he did something wrong

Harvey x Quiet Farmer Who Squirts For The First Time

Summary: Harvey makes a quiet reader squirt for the first time. Warning(s): Munch Harvey, Reader is a bit quiet in this one, Slight dom!Harvey(?) [It quickly goes away though lol], Both Harvey and the reader are shy together tbh. Side note(s): Sorry this took so long anon- the procrastination virus hit me hard 😭 [I hope this is close to what you were asking for!] Also, shout out to Aaryan Shah for being my song inspo that allowed me to write this. His music is so good I swear to god.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

He couldn't help the nervousness that racked his entire body as he feasted upon your sex. You...you were just so quiet!

And that was something that he never minded. Your comfort and pleasure came before any wishes he may have had or would ever had, so long as he was allowed to suckle at your cute clit, sweet babbled murmurs and moans flooding his ears like the welcomed warmth of water over cold skin. He was was fine with you never making a single sound in the bedroom.

Your reactions and silent pleas for him to continue were enough for him, enough to make his cock absolutely ache.

But, at this moment? As your cunt practically begged and drooled for more of his skillful tongue, the sight of your glistening pussy wet from the sheen of your slick making his throat dry as if he hadn't taken a sip of water in days. Coupled along with the fact he was admiring your panting figure through his lashes, a question mark silently formed in his head.

Why were you so adamant on making as little noise as possible?

As arousing as your attempts were...from how you bit your lip so hard to the point he feared it would bleed.

Or how you'd squirm and turn your head side to side, biting either the pillow sheets or covering your lips with the back of your hand if that wouldn't work. Adorable as it was, his desire to hear you moan out his name all the stored-up breath in your lungs frew ever fervent in his mind. To the point he feared he'd begin to cum inside his boxers like some teenager!

But...rather than try to confront you about it, it was far more fun to let his tongue and fingers do the convincing. To let them coax your voice out of you.

"H-Harvey...?" You whispered in a daze as you finally registered Harvey's tongue no longer circling your sex, your breath labored as you shakily rose your head to look at him.

"Yes?" He responded with devotion in his gaze, apologetically pressing a kiss to the inside of your thighs as his fingers slowly traced your labia.

You sucked in a breath, electricity pulsing through you at the simple slow touch. "W-Why did you stop?" You whispered.

Harvey pressed another kiss on you, to the hood of your clit this time as he steadily worked you back up, as well as silently worked himself up to the plan he was about to commit. He almost felt bad for it! Torturing his poor wife who looked like she was on the verge of tears if she didn't get to cum in the next minute.

"Harvey..." You moaned, trying to get his attention once more. "A-Aren't you going to— Oh!" There it was...the noise he'd been so desperately searching for, yearning quietly since the moment you two had started becoming intimate with one another, all from him suddenly plunging his fingers inside of your wanton sex and curling them up into your sweet spot.

An action he more than eagerly repeated as his head dived back towards your sex, lapping and suckling at your engorged clit as he unconsciously rutted against the sheets, aching to release his cock from its confines and find relief in your sweet sweet pussy.

"I'm so clue," You cried out, your thighs shaking as your peak rapidly approached the more Harvey's fingers continued its assault on your G-spot inside your pussy. Something that didn't register in the doctor's head as he became drunk off your juices, barely paying mind to how your thighs twitched more than usual or how you were becoming more and more vocal.

It was like finally receiving that badly wanted gift during Christmas.

His groans against your pussy creating a delicious buzz against your clit that further brought you closer and closer to orgasm until...something felt different.

You grabbed his hair, fruitlessly tugging to try and catch his attention. "H-Harvey...!" You keened, Harvey's free hand digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you open before you came. The sheer force shocked you as a guttural scream ripped from your throat, white flooding your eyes as wetness gushed out of your cunt.

And it was silent as you came down from your explosive high, your chest heaving up and down as you struggled to focus your vision and come back down to reality. Your vision was blurry and...filled with Harvey's worried expression as he looked down at you. "Y/N! Are you okay?" He asked, his voice distant as you smiled all dopey-like.

"Y-Yeah..." You said.

As you steadily propped yourself up on your elbows and rose an arm to loop around Harvey's neck, bringing him closer to you. Both you and he began to blush as you tried to work up to asking your question. "C-Can you do that again...?"

His words choked up in his throat, his cock twitching at your words.

Rather than it being a one-time thing, it seemed he'd have all night to continue to hear your unashamed moans...

[thevoidscreams]

Mating Press March request here!

Can we have some Guilliman desperate to have a normal, loving family with his pretty little wife? He wants kids SO bad and Lady Guilliman looks particularly sexy today....

Thanks!

Giving him something other than some pencils to push. ;3

Warnings: Breeding, descriptions of violence, discussion of child birth (None graphically), free use sexually, biting, rough sex.

Words:2150

Guilliman watched the pict feed as the planet below him burned, the charred and brutalized remains of xenos bodies gave him a quiet measure of satisfaction but he did not voice it allowed. The movement of the crew around him was a reminder of what they were doing this for. This endless conflict. Ripping apart pocket after pocket of the tryanid's fleet. When one went down two more sprang up to take its place.

He'd been down on the ground not even twelve hours before. He could still feel the leathery flesh of his enemy and their solid bony chitin coming apart under his blade, the crack of bolter fire still echoing in his ears as he recalled the bloody splinters of flesh and bone that splattered the earth of this planet from each shot. He wasted not a single round as he fought back the tide. His presence gave his men the renewed vigor to keep fighting.

"My lord. We've taken the city square." The vox came in cut through with bursts of static and the rapid staccato of bolter fire, finishing the final few xenos that still writhed against the oncoming tide of blue armored bodies.

"Excellent work, how are your reserves of ammunition?" "They are low my lord. The tyranids did not go down without a fight. I have one clip left, as do most of my brothers." "Hold the square, I will send down reinforcements and more munitions." "Understood my Lord."

The vox cut as the human crew around him rushed to make ready a drop ship to carry down more bolter rounds and flamer canisters.

A younger hand found himself within reach of the Primarch and he nodded in deference to the towering transhuman as he went about relaying orders through the proper channels. What was his name again? Riko? Rilo? No, it was Rito. The primarch found his urge to speak to the human to be oddly palpable and so he did. "Rito." The man jumped as he turned his gaze up to the primarch in shock. "Yes, Lord Guilliman?"

Guilliman wasn't sure what to say but he'd recalled the conversation he'd overheard earlier between the man and another, most likely a friend by the sounds of their conversation. "I heard you earlier, you mentioned your wife was in the medicae. Is she well?"

The man suddenly smiled as if he was incapable of stopping the spreading joy. "Oh quite, my Lord, she's just given birth. I'm a father." Roboute found himself quietly happy about the news. "That is good news indeed. Congratulations. Have you named the child?" "Yes, his name is Andre. After my wife's late father. He's only a few hours old and already he has the old man's scowl." The primarch nodded."Is she well after the birth?" "It was a long process, more than a day, but she is recovering." "Good to hear. I wish you and your wife luck with little Andre then." He nodded down to the baseline man and he took his leave, returning to work.

He couldn't shake the feeling the conversation left him with. Hearing the good news and returning his gaze to the feed left him tired in a way. His hands itched to know what that small weight would feel like, a babe of his own. A child not only of his gene stock but of his actual genes. The mental image of you sprang to mind as he pictured it. You, corralling a small army of your children as he worked. It was an enticing mental image.

"Calgar." Roboute spoke, not needing to turn to know that his gene-son had come immediately. "Yes?" "Take this station for me. There is a matter I must see to, in person." Calgar didn't question the order, simply followed it as he took over for his gene-sire. The walk down to his quarters from the bridge was too long for his liking. He stopped into the armory on his way. The tech priests seemed to take their sweet time removing his battle plate and with each minute he grew more impatient. "Could we hurry this along please."

To their credit the augmented humans did, performing their rituals with more haste. It still took almost half an hour.

Roboute had been grateful to the healing and assistance he'd received to finally be able to live without the armor. It allowed him to finally enjoy the regular aspects of living that he'd missed out on after he'd awoken from his coma. Such as having a little wife waiting for him in his quarters, with which he could dine and speak with on personal matters and even, other things.

He felt a regularly suppressed appetite beginning to grow in lower body. He pictured your body pressed beneath him as he gave you the child you'd both eagerly craved since the wedding some months before.

When the door to the unit opened he found you curled up on your bed with a book. You looked so comfortable even as he entered and you set the book aside excitedly. "Roboute! You're back early!" He stopped at the edge of the bed peeling away the skin tight glove that helped him interface with his armor more readily.

You hugged him around his now bare torso, enjoying the heat of his body. "Is everything okay Robu? You're not usually back until much later." He smiled. "Yes, my love, all is well, I just needed to see you." One arm encircled your form and he finished pushing down his body glove down below his thighs where he could finish removing it with just his legs alone.

Freed at last he lifted you up and further onto the bed, his hands tugging at the fabric between the two of you. Your heart raced as he disrobed you, pushing you down onto your back as he loomed above you.

"I see you needed more than just a hug." You sighed happily. "Forgive my impertinence in this matter, my love. I have a terrible need for you." He explained, not at all actually sorry as he slid his cock into your warmth without a moment's hesitation. Not that you cared in the slightest that he'd left his post to come lavish you with attention and sex. "Not at all. If I had known my husband would be coming home early to ravage me I would have worn something less restrictive and left myself bent over the edge of the bed to make it more convenient."

He chuckled and kissed your cheek as he began to thrust, it drew a beep moan from him, and you felt every bit as elated, your . His cock stretched you in the most delicious way, leaving you gasping under him, just how he liked it.

His mouth traversed down from your cheek to your throat. peppering the tender skin there with a myriad of kisses. He loved the way it made you writhe and giggle, which in turn made the muscles in your stomach clench and squeeze his cock oh so delightfully.

If he could spend the rest of his immortal life with you just like that it would be more than he felt he would deserve. His kisses finally landed on your lips, you welcomed them with kisses of your own until your lips melded together in perfect sync your arms wove around his neck, hugging him closer as he fucked you in gentle measured strokes. "You know you can be a bit rougher than that. I can take it." He pressed his forehead to yours. "I do not wish to rush this. I want to ensure that we are both satisfied by the end and that I do this right. I have a desired outcome from this." "Oh, and what would that be?" You panted. He fell back on an old habit as he replied. "Theoretical, if I come inside you there is a chance that you will become pregnant." You moaned at the idea. Enjoying the thought that he'd come all the way down from the bridge just to try and knock you up. "Practical, the more you cum inside me, the higher that likelihood." "True enough." He ground out as he felt you begin to return the kisses he'd given you earlier. Your mouth moved over his neck till you felt the powerful pulse of his double heart beat. In a moment of pure desire you nipped the spot. Roboute's hips jerked forward at the feeling. "Oh, enjoy that did we?" You chuckled. He groaned. "Cease." "Hmmm, theoretical, I keep doing it?"

Roboute growled, his voice a low threat as he returned. "Practical, I will plow you into this bed until you cannot move from it." Well that was your choice made for you, you latched your teeth into the spot again and felt the snarl he let loose as he wrapped an arm under your body, pinning you to his chest as the other grasped the edge of the bed to sturdy himself. He drew out slowly at first and you grumbled against his throat. "I warned you."

It was all the warning you received before he snapped his hips forward, impaling you on his cock with more force than he ever had before. It felt as if he shifted everything in your body. "Robu!" You cried but he didn't respond, only continued his rough pace and forceful thrusting, the bed squeaked under the force. Your teeth had lost their grip on his neck but he hadn't seemed to notice. Neither did you, too caught up in being his personal fleshlight as he hissed and came hard. You felt a bit disappointed but then, he didn't stop. He pressed even more of his weight onto you, forcing your legs up further. Roboute growled something unintelligible as he rutted into you with what felt like reckless abandon. His forehead pressed into the bed next to your ear and you began to gather bits and pieces of his mumbling.

'Going to fill you.' 'So full you can't walk.' 'Going to empty my balls in you.' 'Keep you nice and pregnant.' He'd let himself dive head first into his need to impregnate you, his need to breed overwhelming him.

His hips didn't slow as he came again, and with the force of his cock rutting into you and the things he was mumbling, you fell right over the edge with him.

"Roboute!" You cried out, your body tightening around him. He continued through his orgasm, painting your insides white with his seed and he went on. 'Perfect, so beautiful, my love.' He nuzzled the side of your head. Whatever switch had flipped in his brain, he's clearly needed this for a while. Your hug around his neck tightened as you replied to his ramblings. "I love you Roboute." He groaned and let go of the bed, wrapping both arms around you. "I love you too." He panted as he came back to himself bit by bit as his lips found yours once more. His body pressed you into bed further all the while kissing you as he dragged another orgasm from your tired body.

He came two more times, filling you as he promised. He rolled off of you after gathering himself. He felt thoroughly drained.

"Think that did it?" You laughed as you ran a hand through your hair to try and put it back to some semblance of order. Roboute grabbed a brush and set to helping you. "I hope so." You rested your back against his chest, and lay there basking in the moment. "I did not hurt you did I?" He inquired, setting aside the brush in favor of a lotion which he intended to use on you.

"I might have a bruise where your balls kept hitting my ass." You smiled impishly. He grunted. "Be serious here." You let him take your arm in his hand as he began massaging the lotion into your skin.

"I'm okay Roboute. I promise." You let him tend to the rest of you. Massaging and kissing his way over your body.

"I assume you have to go back to the bridge to oversee things?" "I do, yes." "Can I come with you?" You asked, and he hummed. "Why? There isn't much for you to do." "Sure there is. I'm going to need to start practicing aren't I?" "Practicing? Practicing what?" "Bossing around a bunch of your kids. I figure Calgar would be the perfect place to start." His laugh was warm as he nodded. "Very well, my love. You may join me on the bridge." "Yes! Thank you Robu." You gave him a quick kiss, and hopped off the bed, to gather your clothes.

Roboute stood to join you in the activity. Replacing his body glove as he prepared a list of explanations for his poor unsuspecting chapter master.

[saeun]

ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝟏

(1,689 words)

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was the fourth year of undergrad at the University of Pennsylvania. There were times when Luigi wished he'd gone to a regular university, where no-one would try to inflate their egos just because they were an Ivy-League-r. It was tiring when fake 'friends' tried to get close to him, only to ditch and snitch when they took what they wanted and left.

Sure, he made some good friends in the years he had spent at Penn, making and leading a few clubs and having a few reliable classmates, but overall, there was a sense of grounding he still hadn't gotten. There was no-one on campus who was down-to-earth the way he was. No-one shared his perspective.

That all changed when it came time for homecoming. Luigi was the star of his friend group and they were desperately trying to set him up with a Philosophy major who, on paper, would be his picture perfect match. She was fairly tall - a humble 5'5" - dirty blonde hair, slender legs and a toned body. She even had perfect grades with a beautiful capability to hold conversation that had meaning, perhaps explaining why she chose, pursued, and succeeded in a philosophy major.

They tried and tried all they could, but failed in making Luigi ask her out. Ash, everyone had called her, did have a huge crush on Luigi, feeling encouraged by how Luigi's friends always nudged her when he came around, but they were doing her an injustice. Things came to a head when she took it upon herself to ask him out for homecoming.

"Luigi?" A soft voice comes up behind Luigi, who turns around, stopping his work on the wall. He was hanging up papers for UPGRADE, encouraging everyone to scan the QR code to register for the first meeting. His tense shoulders relax, but confusion immediately covers his face when he sees not only Ash, but her entire group of friends giggling behind her.

Ash's face is covered in blush, her eyes giving away how nervous she is. Luigi gives a small smile, stepping down from the ladder before repeating her name back.

"What's up Ash?" Luigi speaks with a steady tone, mind scattered across having to deal with the club and unable to focus on Ash entirely, but still caring about what she has to say.

"I-I- was wondering um-" Ash gulps and Luigi is clueless, wondering if she's okay. He watches her friends push her lightly whispering in her ear. She stops moving around and finally straightens her back, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I was wondering i-if you wanted to go to homecoming with me." Ash finally gets the words out and her friends freeze, staring at Luigi to see what his answer is.

Luigi internally slaps himself - how could he not realize why they were laughing and screwing around with Ash? Of course it was about homecoming and for a second, he felt anger flare up. It was convenient to catch him in the middle of a busy hallway and come with an entire group because the pressure to say yes was tenfold now and it was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Luigi stares at an unsure Ash, who seems to have her hopes increased after proposing the deal to him. The rational part of him is screaming to say yes and later talk to her in private, but he couldn't. He didn't like Ash because yeah, she was great at holding conversations and she was conventionally attractive, but he never clicked with her. In the few times he had gotten time alone with her, she came across as...boring. She was knowledgeable but gah-- something didn't click. Maybe it was the nuances in how her ego showed and how shallowness presented itself. It was tiring, typical, you know?

Luigi wasn't a pawn; he didn't want to be played and for that reason, he goes against that urge and tells the truth.

"Ash," Luigi starts talking but freezes upon seeing her friend huddle in closer. His smile slowly disappears as he's shaking his head.

"I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to ask me, but I'm going to decline that offer. I'm sorry if my friends have led you on in thinking I like you, but that's not true. I've been keeping to myself in this time and I-I just can't do it." Luigi finishes talking and doesn't know whether the ground or wall would swallow him whole, because he sees Ash getting tears in her eyes while her friends gawked, faces transforming into disgust.

Soon enough, Ash's face followed suit.

"You," she points a finger in his face before talking. "Rejected me in front of everyone? What kind of a guy are you?" Her anger is obvious but Luigi's face becomes neutral. What else did he expect?

"You're the one who came up to me when the hallway is busy and you brought your triage with you. Not my fault. Your attempt to pressure me into saying yes didn't work. I'm not apologizing for say no. Only if my friends have led you to believe something that isn't true." Luigi finishes talking before realizing the hallway he thought was bustling away was frozen and holding up countless phones in his face.

Oh no.

Ash lets out a sob before cursing him out and walking away, her girls comforting her and leaving Luigi forced to feel bad since everyone decided to stare at him silently and add in their two cents by giving blank or angry expressions.

He didn't have time for this.

"What are you guys looking at? Fuck off!" Luigi shouts and people seem to snap, muttering words as their phones lower and everyone starts walking off, still giving glances. Luigi returns to his tasks from before, stapling the papers into the wall for the next ten or so minutes. He feels relieved once the hallway is buzzing again as usual, taking solace in the monotony of his task.

But life just has to ruin that, doesn't it?

Luigi is about to lift his head up and staple the last paper before the short stool beneath him shakes, and eventually, leading him to lose his grip. The wall is smooth and it takes less than a second for him to realize he's going straight down to the ground.

He yelps, trying to keep himself upright but fails, falling over and groaning as soon as he hits the ground, except...

he feels something soft underneath his head.

Luigi looks up, facing the wall before looking to the side and beneath him to see a soft, faux fur backpack placed under his head, perfectly set to stop his head from hitting the ground. He looks up and sees the last poster, ripped into two halves making him nearly tear his hair out. He grabs the bag before scrunching it in his palm and talking.

"Who. The. Fuc-" Luigi's eyes are closed before he turns around to open them, ready to shout at whoever is looking at him before he freezes.

That's when he meets you, or your eyes, more specifically. There you are, biting your finger and looking at him with ridiculously glossy eyes stuttering out apologies and threatening to cry if he even says a word.

"I'm s-so sorry I didn't check where I was looking 'n I had a terrible day and I-I-I-" You're over your own head, afraid of his reaction and worried something had happened to him. You didn't kill him. You saved him and it wasn't your fault people were shoving you around even after they saw your cast on your left leg.

Luigi's eyes flicker down to your cast and back up to your eyes before he gently sets the bag down, walking towards you.

"Hey." He speaks softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look up at him. The tears have already streamed down your face and he gasps, taking in how beautiful your eyes look.

They're shaped like adorable almonds, widening at any shift in movement yet sparkling with so much emotion and fear. The brown hue looks stunning with a docile sun ray shooting right through them; Luigi has to gulp and shake his head before he speaks.

Instinctively, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your head into his embrace. You follow suit, snuggling into his arms.

"I'm so sorry I swear." You say, another tiny sob escaping you before he pulls back, shaking his head.

"Stop. I'm alive and you saved my life with your bag. I didn't see your cast. I'm sorry for getting so mad." Luigi says, running his hand down your back before letting go. You nod quietly, sniffling after you hear his words.

Luigi's heart is leaping out his chest, desperate to just grab your face and kiss those fat drops off of your face. But he can't.

"Listen, how about I make this up to you? Cafe Amore, 3pm. Tomorrow works?" Luigi asks, tilting his head down to catch your reaction. You look up with a gentle smile while wiping away at your tears.

"R-Really?" You ask and Luigi nods, prompting the previous anxiety to melt away and you let your arms drop to your side.

"Okay. Okay. Deal." You say and Luigi's smile widens impossibly more, nodding his head as he turns around but stops. You, getting ready to leave, also stop.

"Do you uh-" Luigi clears his throat, clearly blushing now. "Do you need help getting to class or- or wherever you're going?" You smile, feeling warm at his soothing voice and kind gesture, but you shake your head.

"No. I'm alright..." You pause. What's his name?

"Luigi." He fills it in and you nod, sniffling before you talk.

"I'm alright Luigi. I'll see you tomorrow." You giggle before walking away, limping with ease on your cast. Luigi watches from afar, his heartstrings breaking into two every time he watched you take a step on the same cast. He turns his head away, lightly placing his forehead against the wall.

He just fell in love and your eyes did the trick.

~

@cherrysolo and @luigis-wetdream (whoever the anon was that requested a bambi eyed reader, please tell them somehow a fic is being written for 'em bc idk who they are to tag them!!)