#X-Rating

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[anbaisai]

The girlies are fighting… (featuring mentions of a friend’s OC)

Textless version can be interpreted as POV you're being bullied by mean girls or something

Hypothetical exchange based on Leona giving Jamil this ⬇️ piece of advice during Book 6

If this statement doesn’t literally also apply to Jamiyuu ships if Leona knew about things in universe… he’s a Jamiyuu shipper and he’s getting impatient (/j).

And instead of defending himself, I believe Jamil’d just pick something to fire back about because he’s like that. Men who can’t be direct or honest for their lives, sigh.

[choccy-milky]

bloody beater seb🥴💞

[arelliann]

For @steddiesmuttyseptember Week 3: Lingerie | M

[harmonysanreads]

Analysis↬Sunday and Jealousy

The Oak Family's leader doesn't get jealous, he shouldn't get jealous but still ; at times, it feels as though the practiced grasp he keeps on his emotions is more fragile than it appears to be.

「 words : 1.3k 」

Jealousy catches Sunday completely unprompted one day.

It's not that he'd been ignorant to the concept of envy, having met its acquaintance sporadically throughout his younger years. But envy in relation to a person, someone who's getting closer and closer to bringing down the barricades around his soul at an increasingly concerning rate — turns out to be an entirely new predicament for the Oak Family's Head.

Not that he welcomes it as well, because of the realizations it brings alongside itself. Envy is a reflection of insecurity, a gap in healthy confidence. That one has no faith in their capabilities. Alternatively, they refuse to acknowledge their worth or deem it insufficient before another's, but at the same time, can't bring themselves to focus on improving themselves — resulting in a state of inferiority complex.

Envy is a natural response scattered throughout one's lifespan, because no one is at their best all the time. To let it consume them further than a miniscule timeframe and drive those initial feelings of insufficiency towards hatred, that is where the problem arises.

Visible indication of these emotions is scarce, but his silence is meaningful. As a leader, it's more or less obligatory for him to use his words at the right place, while also knowing when to utilize silence. For you, he's willing to both lead a conversation and to remain a listener. But when jealousy sinks its talons into him, he's rendered a bit too silent, almost as though he's unable to process what is happening before him.

Further observation will reveal some other things ; namely the manner in which his wings curl around himself, how he withdraws both of his arms behind him and his overall countenance appearing even more rigid, withdrawn than before. Should you be perceptive enough to look into his eyes, you'll find their edges to be far sharper than what your memory suggests.

It takes no more than a while of contemplation in complete silence for Sunday to draw all these points. The feeling is uncomfortable at first, because dwelling in that pessimistic headspace isn't the most enjoyable. Sunday holds himself guilty before extraordinary standards, which is why his first course of action is self-improvement.

He attempts to pinpoint where exactly his subconscious detects himself insecure, what aspects of him he can improve so that his heart won't betray his soul and makes apparent progress in that pursuit as well. But it doesn't work in the long run, because he's harsh on himself. The cage of “self worth” lures many to make mistakes, but the human subconscious will always tilt towards asking external influences to take the burden. Because of this belief, he has difficulty in shifting the microscope away from himself for a long time.

When he finally wills himself to look at the source of the envy, he becomes even more confused. Objectively speaking, there are very few who can best the Oak Family's leader in an overall inspection. Perfection is but an estimate, he's aware everyone falls somewhere in the path towards it and for matters that concern human relationships, objective views don't really matter. So, he spares you of any judgement.

Supposing that the source of his envy is a person, Sunday holds himself back from comprising a resolute opinion on them as much as he can ; since he's aware that that opinion will ultimately be dictated by emotions. Still, studying people comes as a natural instinct to him. So when he spots certain... negative qualities in them, he's split between pity and relief. The latter stuns him initially.

Accustomed to viewing things from an overall perspective, oftentimes feelings such as anger and hatred seem futile to him. Like an instrument handled a little carelessly or left unused for an extended time, Sunday would not mind ‘tuning’ that person if necessary. After all, everyone deserves compassion and he'd much prefer settling things peacefully.

On the other hand, his relief stems from his trust in you. Because if he didn't place his faith in you, you'd not be as important to him as you're now at all. He knows sooner or later you'll see what he sees as well and return to his side on your own ; unless his perception of you was wrong. Though the thought births an ache in his heart, he doesn't reject it either. He's been betrayed and used too many times to cross out that possibility.

There is another case that'll hurt him far more, if the person is revealed to genuinely love and care for you and there is no such quality that tramples their positives. There is so much Sunday can't give you, being with him requires more patience than what one would think and worst, he knows this all. As such, he can't bring himself to just walk up and drag you away from them — not when he knows you deserve better.

If your relationship with Sunday was established even before this ; he's first displeased, then in disbelief until it settles on disappointment. This disappointment vacillates between you and him before he ultimately fixates it on himself. Sunday places before him nearly impossible standards to meet and unconsciously expects the same efforts from the people he cares about. It's not a hassle for him to be harsh on himself but he can't expect similar attitudes from others, everyone is different. You are not someone he can control and shape to his preferences.

So when his silent, impossible expectations aren't met, frustration and hopelessness replace them. He shouldn't have expected so much from you in the first place. When he thinks about them more, could he have just overreacted? Analyzed the situation so much that it became separated from what happened initially? This ensues a state of paralysis where his functions become static until he ultimately blames himself for everything.

After all, it's easier to do so. Take everything on himself so that no one, or worse — you get hurt. To know that he'd lowered his thoughts to such a degree and for a measly reason at that would undoubtedly fracture you, put forth the question of whether he has trusted you at all. No matter what, Sunday cannot ever bring himself to be cruel to you, it's not in his nature. Rather, his problem is that he cares so much for everything else around him that he has not a speck left of that kindness for himself to spare.

In this stage of it all, he really has no idea who is at fault and everything that transpired in his head feels meaningless and he's tired. A part of him keeps probing that he should just be honest, confess everything to you and bare his soul — but he can't find any semblance of courage required to do so. To everyone he appears normal, with nothing out of place. But inside he's crumbling, everything he's pushed to the back of his psyche has come forward to crush him.

Sunday is not above letting you go should you desire. He's always been selfless, sacrificing everything of himself for the greater good. And for you and your happiness? Destroy him, take away everything but please, be happy. Be genuinely happy and he'll find joy in your smile, even if you forsake him.

Sunday has always known attachment would inevitably hurt him, which is why he doesn't bare himself to just anyone. This turn of events does not surprise him, but it still hurts. Admittedly, he would not mind being proven wrong for once, he yearns for it even.

Besides, he has far grander plans to execute, so many other responsibilities to shoulder. He can't dwell on that attachment for long. Granted, he won't just forget you and the thought of what he could've had would haunt him for a long while but still, he won't blame you for anything. He knows he could just prevent everything by coming clear to you, however, he doesn't have that courage yet.

His suffering is silent, as it has always been. Even in the sweet dream of Penacony, he remains plagued by nightmares he can't shake off. In other words, he's afraid to awaken, to face the inevitable. And until he learns to be sincere to himself, to not be as tenacious as he is, this cycle will remain a challenge to break.

[ninaninato]

I had 207 bones during the whole movie (promise I can take both Wade and Logan AUGHH)

[kabukiaku]

caved and put aside what I was doing to draw terzo getting hickies from omega. this ask prompted me to do so.

[ecstarry]

Fic: Home

When Regulus first mentioned he was moving out of Sirius and Remus’ place, his brother insisted it wasn't necessary. But today, on his last day, Sirius couldn't hide his excitement about living alone with his boyfriend. Regulus was genuinely happy for them, though what bothered him most was leaving their cozy flat behind and getting used to a new living arrangement.

Moving out meant finding a new place and a new roommate. Regulus had enough money to live solo, but the thought of loneliness irked him more than anything. Sirius knew this, which is why an hour after Regulus announced his departure, he received a text from James Potter.

[Jamie] Come live with me

Regulus smirked at his phone. James had saved his contact with that nickname, hoping Regulus would feel guilty about being mean to him. He didn’t, but that didn't mean he wasn't growing fond of James.

[Regulus] Where are your manners, Potter? Shouldn’t you at least ask me out first?

[Jamie] You’re such a princess. I have a spare room and you need a place to live.

[Regulus] So you’re my knight in shining armor coming to my rescue then?

[Jamie] I mean, I do have the looks for it.

[Jamie] Just take the offer.

[Jamie] Don’t even try to say you don’t like my flat when I know for a FACT that you do.

[Regulus] Fine. You sure?

[Jamie] Positive, princess.

AAAAH IM SO EXCITED

Read the complete work here

Snippet of the fic based on the concept that @noasmirrorball shared

[literatooru]

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

pairing: f!reader x dabi

warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI) slight exhibitionism, cockwarming, very slight degradation (calls reader slut exactly once), unprotected sex

Dating Dabi has taught you to always expect the unexpected. It's obviously tough, but you've learned to control your own reactions to deal with whatever he throws at you.

One thing you can always take for granted though, is that, no matter how used to him you are, he'll always manage to somehow catch you off guard. Especially when he comes and suggests for you to do things you would could never imagine yourself doing. But of course, it's Dabi. You couldn't possibly say no to him.

That's how you find yourself settled in his lap, his fingertips running along the plush skin of your thighs make your entire body shiver, his chin rested on your shoulder, and his cock buried so deeply inside you that the barest of moves makes your gut twist.

You were initially suspicious when he suggested —almost demanded— you wear a skirt for movie night. Granted, calling it that is a bit of a stretch. Yes, a movie is playing, but everyone in the league is drunk out of their asses to pay any mind to it. That, at least, is one of the reasons he managed to convince you to go along. No one will notice, he had said.

As soon as you both entered the room, he pulled you to the far end side of it, plopping into the couch and pulling you into his lap as someone started the movie. Of course, due to the season, everyone agreed on playing horror one. Just your luck.

You try to focus on it, you really do. But when a particular jumpscare manages its purpose on you, you start in your place, and the movement makes Dabi's body react almost immediately; his hips slightly thrust up.

He chuckles, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck making goosebumps arise all over your body.

"What's the matter, doll?" he murmurs, kneading his fingertips into your flesh.

A whimper manages to escape past your lips and you crane your neck to hide your face in the crook of his to conceal your embarrassment. He tuts, the sound laced with mirth. "Shh... you better make sure to keep it down," he says, shifting his hips once more to rip another moan out of you. Another chuckle makes his chest rumble, and he takes your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. "You don't want everyone in here to know what a needy little slut you are, do you?" After you shake your head, he nudges his chin forward. "Eyes on the screen," he says, then waits until you're facing forward once more.

His fingers continue tracing teasing figures on your exposed skin, sometimes slipping past the hem of your shit, moving up, up, up before stopping; never touching you where you need it most.

You let out an exasperated huff, making the corners of his lips quirk up. His fingers dig into your hips to halt your movements when you try to grind against him, and his hands almost slam you back down on him, another small moan managing to slip past your parted lips.

"So desperate," he mumbles against the back of your neck, his nose tracing a teasing trail that makes you shiver, and your entire body tenses up as you hold your breath. He groans against your skin, his tongue peeking out to taste it. "Stop squeezin' me so tight unless you want me to make a mess of you. I don't care who's watching."

You bite your bottom lip so hard that you think you might draw blood. His chest is flushed right against your back; the warmth of his body seeping through your clothes, his scent invading all your senses and clouding your judgment. You need him so, so bad that your legs start trembling from the effort of holding back.

"Tōya..." you mewl softly in a weak attempt to make him do something.

"Yeah?" he whispers in your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin. Moves his head to kiss your pulse point, nibbling on the skin and licking it. You've just opened your mouth to speak when he gives another teasing thrust, your lips instantly clamping shut to prevent any noises from coming out. "C'mon. What is it? Cat got your tongue?"

His hand sneaks under your skirt once more. You yelp when he pinches the top of your thigh, his hand moving inward to brush against you. "Look at you. Soakin' wet and I've barely even touched you."

"Please..." you whisper, your hips shifting on top of him when he uses a single finger to tease your aching bundle of nerves, his amusement growing when he notices how you clench your jaw; the way your brows pinch together and your face scrunches up. The way tears well up in your eyes after almost half an hour of his teasing, feeling so full of him yet feeling no satisfaction at all.

"Please, what?" he snickers. "Use your words, doll."

You're just about to do exactly that when Dabi yanks his hand out and adopts a nonchalant posture. You grit your teeth and are about to complain when a drunken man you don't recognize stumbles forward, catching himself on the arm of the couch before he can hit the floor. You don't have to look too closely to know just how intoxicated the man is; just the smell alone makes you scrunch up your nose, and he's not even standing that close.

"What do you want?" Dabi drawls, discreetly pulling the hem of your skirt down to cover as much of your body as possible.

"Wha's the matter wiph her?" the man manages to say, pointing a finger at you. "You cryin'?"

"Ah, she's all right," Dabi says with a lopsided smirk. "Aren't you, sweetheart?" As he says this, his arms curl around your hips and pull you flush against him, readjusting his position, his hips grinding against yours when he does.

You've managed to to merge your moan with a groan and hide your face behind your hands.

"Sure," you blurt out, your voice muffled behind your palms.

"She's just a crybaby," Dabi has the nerve to add, patting your leg. "Not a fan of horror movies."

"Ah, well. I see," the man says, nodding as he staggers away. "They ain't tha' scary! They ain't real! Jus' actors 'n stuff," he mumbles as he makes his way through the crowd.

"Dick," you hiss at your boyfriend.

He smiles, his body relaxing against the cushions of the couch.

"Isn't that what you want?" he retorts.

You grumble something under your breath (definitely a bunch of insults, all directed at him), and he snorts.

"Right then," he starts, his hand going under your clothes and finally touching you where you need him most. "How about I take care of you properly now?"

[hypewinter]

Batman was hunched over, looking for evidence on his latest case when he felt a weight sag against him. He looked behind him to see a boy who looked like he could be the next Robin slumped against him.

"I very eepy," the boy murmured into his cape.

[lunoxin]

Heart Game with Sounds.

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[remotewatch]

some call it arrogance

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 2.5k wc

summary: Let’s face it: you kind of suck at paddleboarding. Thankfully, your boyfriend is an eager instructor with a trick up his sleeve!

cw: shameless smut, outdoor recreation, questionable teaching, peppy upbeat softdom jack (good lord), fingering, unprotected sex, if you want to keep your plan b go VOTE ‼️‼️, play fighting, jd is catching strays, this is somewhat a comedy

minors dni and stay out!!!!

Time and time again, you realize that you and Jack have very different definitions of what constitutes a short paddle. You could pass out right here on your little break, sun hat plopped over your face and one leg dangling in the pleasantly cool water. He tugs you closer to his board to drum a few fingers on your knee and ask “You asleep?” just as you’re drifting off.

A barely audible “mhm” is all you care to let out. Jack’s hand slides to your inner thigh, a polite veneer of concern slapped onto his more crude interests.

“Do you need something?” When you lift your hat to squint over at him for being so euphemistic, he’s already zapping you with those doe eyes you struggle to resist.

“Diva, the telephotos,” you mumble as you flop back down. There’s almost certainly no one hiding out in the mangroves waiting to catch you two, but the press had noted the extension of your Japan trip to stop at Iriomote. Your growing collection of condemning paparazzi pics is already nudging at the edge of your mind, and you have no desire to add to it today.

“They can’t get a good shot this far out.” His hand stills when you don’t murmur back how much of a whore he’d have to be to know that so definitively.

“Here, let’s get out of the sun for a bit. Get you a honey stick or something.” A grateful thumbs up is the most movement you care to make.

As much as you like getting into Jack’s hobbies with him, it’s undeniably more fun to have him tow you around whistling Elvis tunes like your little chauffeur. It would be so easy to fall asleep to the sound of it paired with the waves crashing in the distance; maybe you do; it’s really none of your business.

The temperature suddenly drops, and you briefly tilt your hat up to see he’s steered you into a particularly thick mangle. It’s a straight, narrow shot from it up to the shore; exactly the type of hidden launch he’d know about.

He turns around from rooting in the supply bag and waggles a fanned out selection of power bars, honey straws, and glucose gels at you.

“What’re we having today, huh?” Still hiding under your hat, you grasp blindly until you find a few straws and tear one open with your teeth, shoving your dentist’s exasperation to the back of your mind. Jack knows better than to pester you until your temperature and blood sugar level out a bit. Eventually, you rise from the dead and get a better look at your spot.

The mangrove roots here are as thick as you’ve ever seen and rise far enough out of the water that you could set up a hammock under them. Schools of diminutive silver fish swirl beneath the surface, bouncing light back up to paint the underside of the overhead foliage. The two of you are technically visible from open water, but a pap would have to drop anchor at the perfect angle to get more than a glimpse. You remind yourself that you’re on the west side of the island anyway; surely there’s more exciting things to report on than America’s most notorious SUP proficiency gap relationship.

“You’re getting better, you know.” You gnaw at a second honey straw and scrunch up your nose.

“Am I?”

“For sure. Remember Lake Superior?”

“God, must I?” you groan, wincing at the mere thought.

“Gotta appreciate where you started!” Jack is laid out on his board doing alternate toe touches, and the fact that it’s more of an unconscious ritual than a way of showing off his balance makes it all the more annoying.

He’s truly so pretty, even after putting your legs through hell on the way out. The little gaps in the mangrove canopy cover him in spots of sunlight, and he still refuses to buy a smaller pair of shorts, just rolling down the hem of those ratty old ones until they’re shorter than any of yours. You’re too busy watching them fall further down his thighs with every leg raise to notice he’s still talking.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said-,” Jack finishes the last of his coconut water and smacks his lips. “Why don’t you stretch a bit before we head back?” You press your hands flat as if to push yourself up, and he notes your hesitation.

“What is it?”

“…Can you spot me?” His smile cracks his whole face open like a fresh daffodil, clearly thrilled to be needed.

“Why, certainly.”

You brace yourself as he slides onto your board as easily as scooting closer on the couch, quads flexing delectably while he helps you stand up.

“Do a forward bend for me,” Jack effortlessly slips back into his instructor cadence, to the point that you could forget he’s your boyfriend aside from his hands feeling far more than professionally comfortable on your hips. He leans up against your backside to peer over you as you place your palms flat on the deck, not bothering to conceal how much it excites him. After the tension of the paddle out and stiffening up during your nap, the stretch in your hamstrings is virtually orgasmic. Jack doesn’t miss the little sigh of relief you let out, nor do you the the smugness that spills into his voice.

“And walk it out, just like that,” you can feel him staring at your ass and can’t even kick his shin without knocking you both over.

“Can you at least pretend to enjoy this a little less?” it doesn’t sound very commanding with his dick pressed right up against you before you shift into downward dog. Even less so when he knows how much you love a good calf stretch, knows exactly how far to push you into it to make you melt in his hands.

“If I’m not happy to be here, how can I expect you to have any fun?” There’s a brief wobble as he reaches to grab your ankles and help you move to a headstand, but one shift of his heel and you might as well be back on dry land.

“That’s why I said pretend.”

“That’s why I’m not an actor. And, push yourself up!” If nothing else, you’re decent at handstands, at least with Jack ready to catch your legs. Decent on a good day, that is, when the humidity isn’t bleeding your energy like a stuck pig. Your right palm slips into the water, and you screw your eyes shut in anticipation of a face full of board and a few tree bark scrapes.

“Fuck!” you hiss, but his grip instantly locks down on your ankles and lifts you out of the line of fire. Jack’s obliques ripple as he rights the board, and he’s very clearly pleased to catch your notice of it.

“That’s alright, you had a few good seconds there.” He lets you swing a few moments longer than necessary before lowering you back down and piping up again. Ever the show-off.

“It’s always…,” he hesitates as if he’s searching for the right words. “-been my understanding that if you can balance on all fours in unfavorable circumstances, you can stay standing just fine.”

“And what kind of unfavorable circumstances would you be talking about?” it’s obvious, though you’d rather hear him say it. He knows you too well to take the bait and cheekily rolls his eyes.

“You know, the favorable ones.”

“Is that what they teach you at surf instructor school?” Your hands are back on the board now, and you kick one foot free to slide it down his chest under his shorts.

“Oh yeah, the first thing,” he chuckles, fishing it out before helping you down into a plank.

Jack somehow wriggles his way under you without causing any major upheaval, claiming it’s the easiest way to check your form. He’s talking like this is your first time on a board just to wind you up and making no attempt to hide how much he enjoys doing so.

“Now, there’s nothing to it, just gotta make sure you’re not leaning too far to the left-“ he tugs at one of your bikini ties.

“Or the right,” he twists the other between his fingers, not quite loose enough to fall off, but certainly plenty of room for him to slide his fingers below your waistband. His smile grows wider when he pulls them back out to observe their newfound shine. You have a halfhearted go at defending your reactivity.

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh yeah? You’re pulling a JD, getting riled up by the dolphins?” If your balance or endurance were half as good as his, you’d shove him off your board and ditch him right there. The best you can do is double down; a bit pitiful, but better than giving him any satisfaction right after that bullshit.

“And these are the unfavorable circumstances? Seriously?” It’s more the stupid fucking grin on his face than the controlled circles he’s tracing on your clit that’s disrupting your concentration. You’re hoping that focusing on the space between Jack’s eyebrows will keep your mind blank, but his fingers feel better and better the more you try to ignore them sliding around like he’s trying to memorize every cell you’ve got down there.

“It would be deeply irresponsible of me to throw you right into the deep end. Safety first, after all.”

“So irresponsible,” the mocking tone you’re going for doesn’t really work when your pitch is stuttering in perfect response to his movements.

Your eyes slip closed out of habit, but he’s right there playfully pinching your nipple to bring you back to reality.

“Hey, now! No daydreaming during your lesson! That’s not very considerate to your instructor,” he’s trying to pout up at you, hit you right in your weak spot, but he looks far too pleased with himself for the illusion to work.

“What if he deserves it for comparing me to a bloated couch fucker?” Again, the conviction isn’t really there when you’re bending your knees into terrible form trying to chase his touch every time they recede.

Jack yanks his fingers away, sucks them clean with a slippery pop, and kisses you on the point of your chin before shuffling out from under you.

“Clearly you’re not being challenged enough if you can complain like that!”

This time, you do try to kick him off the board, but you have no range at all to put some power into it. That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

“Look at you! You wouldn’t have been able to do that at Lake Superior. Told you you’re getting better!” He’s tugged his shorts down and your swimsuit to the side before you can snap at him, and he actually cackles when he sees how much your lats twitch when he first slides in.

“You’re unbelievable.” The way your voice shakes makes it sound more like a compliment than a last ditch effort to compose yourself.

“That’s what I’ve heard! There you go, arch for me.” He’s not causing much motion yet, only waves big enough to scatter the fish, but you’re wound so tight he might as well be putting you straight through the deck. Your arms are already shaking, and of course Jack notices; how could he not?

“Keep your arms steady. No, don’t lock them up, lean into it,” he’s saying like they’re not on fire, like you can’t feel yourself clamping down on him in some sort of weird unified muscular system effort to keep you from falling on your face.

“Can’t believe y-“

“How fast you’re progressing? I know, right! You must have a pretty good teacher!” He’s absolutely insufferable. You’ve been moving nonstop since dawn, he’s got your ass locking up like an NDA, and his voice is still perfectly fucking steady.

Jack’s middle finger just barely trails along your side, feather-light enough to raise goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re holding too much tension here.” Thank god, he mercifully spares you the lecture about proper abdominal engagement.

“Jack, I can’t- I’m gonna fall!” The wavering in your voice is so unbelievably humiliating when he’s barely breaking a sweat. Your arms buckle, threatening collapse, and there he is seamlessly shifting his hands from your hips to swing under your torso and support you when they finally give out, the other splaying flat across the deck.

“Noooo you’re not, you’re fine. You can have a little break, and then we’ll try again, okay?” All while his thrusts remain infuriatingly consistent. The board barely even moves when he catches you. Your nails scrabble at the deck pad, then the limb supporting you, trying to regain your balance, ground yourself, Jesus, something, but he’s got a better angle now and can haul you back onto his dick as hard as he likes without worrying about your arms giving out.

“You’re such an asshole!” you sob as you claw at his forearm.

“Tell me to stop then! Be silly and turn down a free lesson, why dontcha?” Any attempts you make to thrash your way out of Jack’s grasp just stimulate you more, and he’s suppressing a fit of laughter watching you jolt like you’re stuck in a bear trap. When all that’s left for him to knock out of you are little stilted squeals, his resolve softens, and he leans down to kiss your ear.

“I know you can do it. Push yourself up for me.”

The only way out is through. This time, your arms do lock up; blame the unfavorable circumstances. The world narrows to tunnel vision as you watch the board tilt left, then right, with the ringing in your ears making the whole spectacle feel a tinge nightmarish.

Your orgasm hits you hard enough to have Jack choking out an “oh, fuck” that sounds just as strangled as his dick must feel. You can hardly enjoy it over both of your triceps cramping terribly, though you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself for staying dry when you slump to your elbows halfway through.

As unceremoniously as Jack thuds down at your side, he still instinctively spreads out enough to keep the board steady. He looks about ready to fall asleep, so of course you roll over to bother him.

“Is that how you taught people to surf?”

“Nah, they were way more advanced.”

“Fuck you!” He’s back on his board and paddling out of the inlet in a flash, somehow not flipping yours in the process.

“Sounds like someone doesn’t need any breaks on the return trip!” By some miracle, you manage to grab his leash before he flies past you.

“You’ll tow me back.” Jack spares you a full glance over his shoulder, and there’s an unmistakable streak of you remaining on the left side of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m your favorite student.”

[azul-marie]

— a touching of souls.

their kisses with you. fem. reader. suggestive. feat. bi-han, kuai, tomas, syzoth.

bi-han —

steady and sure, grabbing at your waist, wrapping a hand around your throat to keep you still as he indulges himself in your lips. although he is not the most affectionate man, bi-han has an exceptional fondness for kisses. perhaps it’s the breathless sounds you make, or the soft gasps in between his tongue — perhaps it is simply that he prefers you at his mercy, a pretty little thing caged beneath or within strong arms. typically at night, when the moon is high and all is silent, he allows himself to calm, to open before you and allow you to initiate. bi-han tends to lose himself in these moments all too easily, an annoyance at his expense. most times, without even trying, simple kisses from you lead to sleepless nights and sore bodies.

kuai liang —

ardent, unrestrained, grasping at hips and breasts and hair, unable to keep what little space remains between the two of you from heating up — figuratively, literally. his lin kuei ways may have taught him restraint, focus, but kuai’s hotheaded tendencies always get the best of him when it comes to you, only for you. his kisses trail like fire all across your body, his teeth leaving scorches in their wake, a tongue like that of flames licking at tender flesh until you melt like caramel in his hands. kuai is unrelentingly keen on smothering you with every bit of adoration he has; his lips alone are more than capable of proving it. you are a goddess worthy of worship, and he a devotee all too willing to bow down and serve, evermore shall his love burn for you.

tomas —

soft like daytime mist, cupping apples of cheeks, the tremble of fingers when his lips touch yours. he has little experience with romancing women, much less the gift of their kisses; you are his beginning, his end. it is precisely why tomas pecks, rather than lose himself to your lips, for a bashful nature keeps what eager will he has in check. his boyish charm only adds to the endearment, and often he finds you to be the one most content in initiating them. it’s a strange comfort, that you still pursue him despite his meeker approach to affection and love. assuring him that he is wanted sends his self-confidence soaring, and gradually does he ease into the idea of receiving and giving kisses on a more constant basis — privately, of course.

syzoth —

quick and light, flurries of kisses, all about your pretty face, your petalsoft lips, sometimes at those sensitive sweet spots across your décolletage if he’s feeling cheekier than usual. syzoth, fairly new to the concept of kissing with warm, wet mouths, tongue and teeth and all, hadn’t expected warm-blood affection to be so pleasant. he is cautious of physicality, having grown to live without its softer aspects for years prior to you, but kisses are easy, innocent enough to practice. you have made it this way for him, precious as you are. he kisses you hello, goodbye, as luck before either one of you leaves for calling duties, and simply when he feels like it, even if friends are around to witness and tease. he doesn’t mind them, as long as you don’t.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire enhypen (part three). you are their personal (human) blood bank

ni-ki is out of his damn mind (sigh)

jungwon feeds on a human (you) for the first time

sfw with some nsfw innuendos and interactions (groping, making out)

please reblog, comment and like! but please do not repost or translate! not proof read.

next two parts may have some nsfw scenes

thank u for the love and support!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

you, jungwon, and jay arrived at the hotel a little while ago to set your stuff in the rooms, then went straight to dinner in the hotel’s restaurant.

that’s when you learned jays father owned the hotel (and many others). and that him (his father) was rich. and that his father was still alive as an even older vampire.

“order whatever you want.” jay said to you and jungwon.

neither you or jungwon knew jungwon was feeding tonight. jay didn’t want either one of you nervous during dinner, making the conversation awkward.

you and jungwon only knew that ni-ki was out of his mind (your words not jays) and it wasn’t safe for you to be in the home. sunoo stayed back at the house, with jake and heeseung taking turns on watch to make sure he behaves (which they know he will, but they have to be safe). sunghoon had to stay back as an elder to keep an eye on ni-ki, but also, they were upping the antics used on him to quickly get the human lust out of his system. they didn’t want you there just in case you heard anything.

after dinner, you felt you could combust at any moment with how much you ate. jay made sure you ate.

the three of you took the elevator back up to the suite you were in. it had 2 separate bedrooms with an en-suite each, a huge balcony overlooking the city, a kitchen, and a living room. you looked up the price of the room on the hotels website and glad you were close with the CEO’s son. ($5,000 a night).

“i need you both to sit on the couch. i need to discuss something important with you two.” jay announced and it worried you and jungwon.

“what’s wrong?” you asked sitting on the big couch, and jungwon sat close to you. again, jay opted to sit on the coffee table in front of you both loosening his tie. oh fuck he looked good doing that.

“jungwon is going to feed on you tonight.” jay ripped the bandage off.

you and jungwon gasped. “jay, i—,”

“you’re ready.” jay cut off jungwon.

then you added with humor, “is that why you fattened me up?”

jay smiled. “i just made sure you ate well.”

you huffed. “why are you just now telling us? do the other boys know?”

“only sunghoon. we didn’t want you both nervous. and jake can’t keep his mouth shut so we decided against to tell any of the others until afterwards.”

“can i at least shower first?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

after your shower, you dressed in another one of jays oversized shirts you took from his dresser. you opted out of boxers or pants, and kept it classy with a thong.

you walked out from jays room to the living room, both boys in a hushed conversation, but when they saw you, their attention turned to you.

“where do you want to be? living room or jungwon’s?” jay asked. “i was also thinking after your feed, you sleep in jungwon’s bed tonight. it’ll test his confidence in his ability to control himself.”

jungwon was shaking his head as if he had disagreed with the plan.

“i can do that.” you stated and looked at jungwon who looked at you surprised. you smiled. you trusted him.

“good. you’ll keep the door unlocked. if anything goes wrong i will be able to sense and hear it and i’ll be by your side in a flash.”

you nodded. “okay.”

all three of you went to jungwon’s room, and you laid down.

“how—how do the other guys typically do it?” jungwon asked.

you smiled, sitting up on your arms trying to ease his mind. “well first, where do you want to feed? jays favorite place is classic, my neck. heeseung prefers my hip or waist, or my sides. sunghoon and jake prefer my upper thighs.” you explained.

you lifted your shirt to show the upper part of your thighs. “sunghoon is pretty possessive over my right thigh, but you can share the left with jake if you want.”

“are you sure jake won’t get possessive?” jay snorted.

“i can handle jake.” you said. “so where do you want to feed jungwon?”

“why do you chose the neck?” jungwon asked and looked to jay.

jay blushed and scratched the back of his head. “uh—it’s more intimate.”

“he does it while we’re having sex.” you said, not embarrassed at all.

here’s the thing, you are their blood bank, you are okay with that. but you’re not their sex toy, and jay made sure to get that through your head. if you wanted to have sex with them, fine, but you didn’t have to.

jay was the only one you’ve had full sex with, as you figured out he likes to feed after your orgasm cause it lessens the pain.

jake and sunghoon have both been between your legs, and it wasn’t just to feed.

jungwon swallowed. “i’ll take the left thigh.”

you smiled, “good choice.”

you laid back down, as jay assisted jungwon in making sure to find a thick part of your thigh. jungwon gave a kiss to your inner thigh, but not as close as jake and sunghoon like to be.

“her body will tell you when you’re done. you need to listen to her, not yourself.” jay stated. “if you get out of control, which i doubt you will, i will force you off of her. you may get upset as you’ll be driven by lust.”

jungwon nodded listening attentively.

“hold my hand.” you said to jungwon and he did. “i’ll let you know.”

jungwon was excited but nervous. his first human feed as a newbie. your blood always smelt so fresh, so sweet, so good to him. he couldn’t explain it. it was a different smell, and as the olders explained, you were a different and better taste too.

jungwon kissed your thigh once more, you squeezed his hand in reassurance, and jungwon’s eyes changed and his fangs dropped. his teeth grazed your skin before it broke through.

you immediately groaned in pain, but soon it felt pleasurable as usual. since jungwon was new, he fed a little harsher, through his lips and teeth.

after a few minutes, jungwon felt your body feel different. it’s done. but his mind was telling him not to stop. to drain you of all your blood. or to turn you into what he was.

“jungwon.” jay warned, but jungwon’s ears weren’t listening.

his body and mind wasn’t either. until he heard you.

“wonie, that’s enough.” you sighed through pleasure and squeezed his hand.

he stopped. he reluctantly removed his teeth, instinctively licking where his teeth once were, and kissed it softly. his forehead soon rested against your thigh.

you ran your hand through his hair. “you did good, jungwon.” you praised. jungwon smiled and chuckled.

he looked up at you. then he looked at jay who looked like a proud dad.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

that night you slept in jungwon’s bed with him comfortably. that was until you woke up to him hovering over you, his eyes had turned red. however, the fangs weren’t out.

“jungwon?�� you questioned, and he groaned. he groaned like he was in pain and leaned in closer to inhale your scent from your neck. he kissed your neck then sank his human teeth as he nibbled.

it startled you and you yelped. he leaned up eyes staring right at you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

his hand gripped your thigh—hard. “ouch, jungwon.” you groaned and he smiled.

shit.

before you knew it, he pulled your shirt up, and ripped your thong off, his nose going straight to your inner thigh where he last fed.

jay came through the door, but you held out a hand to stop him, and jay listened.

“wonie, look at me.” you pleaded. jungwon looked at you with his red eyes, before his nose ran up your body has he inhaled you.

jay went to move, but you stopped him again. jungwon’s attention turned to jay, and he literally snarled.

“wonie, look at me!” you repeated and took his head in your hands to make eye contact once again. “wonie, are you hungry or do you just miss my taste?”

jungwon closed his eyes, internally battling with himself. “taste—i miss your taste.” he cried through his teeth. he was fighting himself, literally.

“then taste me.” you said, and brought jungwon’s lips to your own.

the kiss was anything but romantic. jungwon was craving you, craving your taste. he was animalistic with the kisses, dominate, often taking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

all while, he was grinding his lower half into you. well, his hard lower half.

you moaned into the kiss, and jungwon took the opportunity to stick his tongue inside your mouth searching for your own tongue. you whimpered just as he used his hands to grab all over your body. he was harshly gripping your thighs, stomach, hips, ass, breasts, anywhere and everywhere as he grinded against your lower half with his. he had a barrier, you didn’t.

the messy make out session didn’t last much longer, as jungwon started to whimper himself, and he stopped grinding as his mouth moved to your neck, stopping the kissing altogether as he took deep breaths.

“it’s ok wonie.” you patted his back and rubbed it. he shook his head.

“im sorry, im sorry, im sorry.” he kept repeating and sniffled. he was still hard as a rock but didn’t move.

“it’s okay—,” you began but again he shook his head.

“jungwon.” jay stated using his authoritative tone.

jungwon got up, “i’ll go shower.” and he immediately ran to his en suite bathroom.

jay quickly came to your side, checking you out. “why did you stop me? it could’ve gone really south.”

“but it didn’t.” you challenged. “you trusted him for a reason and so did i, jay. he stopped. he didn’t feed further, okay?”

“do you want to come sleep with me?”

you shook your head no. “i’m fine jay, i promise.” you told truthfully. you also didn’t want to hurt jungwon, thinking you didn’t trust him anymore.

jay left, and you turned your back to the bathroom, shutting your eyes once more. jungwon’s shower was quick, redressing in nothing more than pajama pants. he smiled at your sleeping figure still in his bed. he got in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissed the back of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispered and you turned to face him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

“didn’t know you were so dominating in bed.” you teased and jungwon laughed with a flush to his cheeks.

he rubbed his hand up and down your arm in a soothing gesture. “i’m sorry about that.”

“what matters is that you stopped.” you moved a fringe of his hair. your hand rested on his cheek as you moved your thumb back and forth. you finally took note of his naked chest and smiled. “nice shoulders.” you complimented.

“sorry about your thong.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the next afternoon you three returned to the house. earlier that morning, the university released a statement stating that the incident with the student was an isolated incident and no further danger was present. classes would resume after the weekend.

“what if ni-ki isn’t better?”

“then we kill him.” sunghoon stated with a straight face. you didn’t find him funny.

“he’ll go to a boarding school for newbies who don’t listen.” jay offered as a solution instead.

“that exist?” you and sunoo both asked at the same time.

jay nodded. “yes, in switzerland. my father is on the board of trustees.”

“wait, if you all are up here,”

“he’s fine by himself for now. we knocked him out with something to shut his ass up while his body detoxes.”

“sunghoon!” you scolded.

“any way,” jake changes the subject, “how was the night away at the fancy hotel?”

“it was good.” you and jungwon both said together, then looked at each other and smiled.

“jungwon fed on her.” jay said. “he did good controlling himself. and she did good keeping him grounded.”

“no way!” jakes thick accent came out as he clapped jungwon on the shoulder. “how was it? where did you feed?”

“her thigh.”

“better not be the right thigh.” sunghoon stated, eyes narrowed.

“and the left is better?” jake questioned. “how come you get a thigh to yourself?”

“i’m an elder.”

“alright old man.” jake teased.

“was it scary” sunoo asked jungwon.

jungwon shook his head. “not like i thought.”

you patted jungwon’s head, “he did good and didn’t hurt me.” you smiled.

then jungwon suddenly remembered, “did yall know jay only feeds when he’s being intimate with her?”

you snorted at jungwon saying intimate like he was scared to say the word sex.

jay and heeseung look surprised. sunoo looked disgusted like it was way tmi. sunghoon wasn’t fazed.

“sadly i did.”

you looked at sunghoon confused. you were never loud.

“baby doll, vampire hearing.”

“well shit.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP Fic idea: Retired-Rouge.

Danny gets into making teddy bears. He didn't start that way; honestly, he was mostly trying to fix Bearbert Einstein after his mom accidentally burnt him with a misfired ray gun.

Jazz had broken down into tears, and it had ripped apart his heart and his core to see her so distressed. He went to the local- and only- fabric store in Amity Park to find materials and try to repair his sister's beloved teddy bear when his mom's attempts to fix the bear only made him look worse.

Just his luck that the only fabric shop for miles around was Weston Fabrics and that the person manning the cashier was Wes himself. The other boy had nearly thrown him out when Danny walked in, but thankfully his older brother Kyle had talked Wes down and helped Danny find fabrics for Bearbert.

Surprisingly, Wes had even helped him set up one of their sewing stations to get started on Bearbert.

The strange part was when Danny turned the machine on and found his hands moving independently. As if he had been doing it for years, he expertly put together the bear and even went through the other fabrics to make him new outfits. Wes had watched the whole time, raising a brow when Danny got up to pay.

"Thought you didn't know how to sew?"

"I thought so too. Must be a ghost thing." Danny replied then smirked as the redhead glared.

"A ghost thing?" Wes all but sneers. He still trying to expose Danny as Phantom and had yet to get proof, even with Danny teasing him in the open. As it were, Kyle, who was unpacking new needles rolled his eyes behind the red hair teenager.

"Yeah, since I have a protection core as Phantom, it sometimes transfers into my human side. Do you know how teddy bears guard children at night against bad dreams? Same thing"

Wes pauses, then slowly blinks; he whispers with a small baffled smile, "That's kind of adorable. A teddy bear to keep you safe through the night."

And Danny? He didn't mean to, but he found Wes sort of hot at that moment. Not the Wow, that guy is a celebrity hot but a Be careful who you call ugly in middle school because Puberty made them delicious over the summer break hot.

He will admit that he returned to Weston Fabrics to flirt more with Wes and made so many teddy bears as a disguise. The good news was that all his works were a hit, and even some kids at school started asking for special commissions when word got around about the special Nightmerica teddy bear he made for Sam's birthday.

He makes money, gets a boyfriend, and when he donates the teddy bears to a local hospital, he discovers a new power. Through items he made himself, Danny can send waves of comforting energy to the people around the item, like a miniature zen distributor. The patients that have his toys start to show greater rest from both nightmares and lower anxiety, depression, and general sadness.

He lets Wes name this power, which later becomes the name of his teddy bear business- Phantom Relief. After dating for two years and graduating, both boys agree the spark had been lost but remain good friends. Danny takes his thriving teddy bear-making skills to his new college in Gotham while Wes leaves for Star City.

In Gotham is where things get....stranger. See, Danny knows someone new to the city will never truly understand a city's problems. But the rapid amount of homeless kids is so shocking he starts making clothes and blankets to try and give them out because they shouldn't be out there freezing like that! He even tries passing along some teddy bears to them, hoping to soothe their pain with some Zen waves.

The key word is tries.

Gotham kids do not trust or like free handouts. Danny burst into tears when a thirteen-year-old asked if he wanted the kid to use his hand or mouth in exchange for the new blanket. The street kid seemed surprised when Danny was horrified by the question. No one else found it strange, the kid said, wrapped in a Superman blanket that Danny made only a day before, it's just how things are done around here.

The worst part is the homeless thirteen-year-old is right. Everywhere he looks, Danny finds more people needing protection- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Gotham is just filled with people suffering. He couldn't keep up. It's tearing him apart trying to help everyone.

His core feels like it will burst from all the overloaded cries of help it can pick up. One night Danny can't take it anymore, so he shifts into Phantom and flies out to the old Drake manner, abandoned since Janet Drake's murder, where the cries are muffled, and dials Wes' number with shaking hands.

His ex picks up listens to his sobs and tells him "You can't save people who don't want to be saved. But you can try to reach them in a way they understand."

It's precisely what he needs to hear.

Ancients, but he misses the man sometimes. Why did Danny ever let Wes Weston go? Well, as they say, Right person, wrong time. Maybe that was why.

So Danny decided the only way to get to Gotham was to be like Gotham. And who were the people that dramatically changed the city with every random plot? With every random heist?

Gotham Rogues.

So all Phantom had to do was become one, which shouldn't be too hard since people in Amity Park still debated if he was good or not years later. He fixes up his Phantom suit to something more Gotham villain, keeping the colors but removing the jumpsuit and adding a suit and vest alongside a mask and two giant needles.

He appears in Crime Alley- because that's where the most cries come from- and just challenges everything and everyone to take the area from him. He fights off so many gangs- even Red Hood, who puts up a great fight- but after the dust settles, he now runs the place.

He then starts- fixing the place. Starts sending out clothes for the homeless, starts fixing up buildings, gives Phantom Reflief out-teddy bears to kids, fake emulates to adults, starts sending the gang kids back to school, forces landlords to lower the housing, and illegally makes everyone get along.

He spreads his tyranny to the rest of the city, fighting the good and bad sides of the law. The bats give him one hell of a challenge, but Danny beat the Ghost King when he was an untrained brat. This is nothing. Batman gets better with every fight, and so do his associates.

Things look good until the Joker tries him too much when the clown somehow gets to Wes. Has the love of his life tied to a bomb with enough Joker Venom to fill half the city, and Danny sees red.

When he comes to, it's to Wes holding him in his arms, whispering reassurances, and Joker nothing but a smear on the ground. Danny can't live with what he's done; he runs away, shifts into his human side, and vows to never be Phantom again.

After four years of peace due to Phantom's hostile takeover, Gotham mourns the loss but doesn't fall into so much crime now that the ghost crime lord is gone. Danny thinks he's done his job and chooses to melt into the background. He opens a little shop for fabrics and custom-made teddy bears.

Wes finds him, agrees to try and rekindle their love, and a year later agrees to the marriage.

All is well until seventeen-year-old Tim Drake strolls into his fabric shop. Clutching a superboy teddy bear, he gave a shivering fourteen-year-old the first week as Phantom Gotham Villain with a stern look in his eye.

"Phantom- I need you to help me find Batman, who is lost in time, or I will expose your secret identity to the rest of Gotham."

Well, shit.