#but it just irks me like that's just a person i swear

[cosmicdahlias]

Christmas Across the Rio Grande

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Christmas has come and you’re spending it getting drunk with an old, hardened Logan.

tags: age gap, alcohol use, drunk sex, couch sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

sooo timeline-wise this takes place at the end of 2028. i tried to do my best research as to when caliban comes into the picture and there wasn’t much, but from what i’ve read it seems logan recruited him some time in 2029, so he will not be in this fic. sorry for posting a christmas fic a day late, i only got the idea for this two days ago 😭

Life had not been the same in months. Charles Xavier, once head and founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had developed dementia, leading to frequent destructive telepathic seizures. One such seizure became known as the Westchester Incident, leaving the school destroyed, many injured, and some of your fellow mutants dead.

Having grown up in an orphanage until aging out of the system and spending the first eight years of adulthood on the streets, Charles was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father and the school was the only place that ever truly felt like home. In such a short time you had lost both. Even though Charles was still very much alive, the dementia left him a shell of his former self.

After Westchester the United States government declared Charles’ brain as a “weapon of mass destruction”, leaving you and another mutant to take him and go on the run, fleeing to an abandoned smelting plant in Mexico just across the Rio Grande.

The other mutant was the notorious Wolverine, Logan Howlett. For reasons unknown to you, his appearance had changed dramatically in the last five years. Despite not being able to age he looked like he’d gone from forty to sixty in record time.

Since escaping with you and Charles to Mexico, Logan had taken to going by “James”, his actual name, and worked as a limo driver in the border city of El Paso. He would regularly smuggle in the drugs to keep Charles’ seizures at bay.

In the days before Westchester you were never fond of Logan. He was a loner, seeming to keep everyone at arm’s length, save for those he would bed. Perhaps it was his tendencies towards promiscuity when he claimed to be in love with Jean Grey, a married woman, that irked you more than his personality.

He was passed around the mansion so frequently that from what you’d heard there were times he accidentally “double booked” himself. There was a part of you, buried somewhere deep, that harbored a resentment towards him for never seeking out your affections like he did for nearly any other adult with a pulse.

Living in close proximity since being thrust into exile with him had softened your opinions considerably. The shared trauma of losing everything and everyone had brought you two closer, as close as he would allow.

December was coming to an end. The nights were blisteringly cold and the winds only served to make them colder. The poorly insulated, run-down plant did little to protect you from the elements.

You were heading back inside from painstakingly, but successfully, attempting to medicate Charles. The heavy gales howled, making it a struggle to close the door before finally managing slam it shut. You turned around to see Logan sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. He was wearing his typical non-work attire, a white tank top and jeans.

“He finally down?” He asked.

“For now, I swear those drugs used to knock him out for longer. He wouldn’t stop going on about Taco Bell for some reason.”

“Yeah, he uh… he does that a lot now.”

You gave a heavy sigh.

“It just sucks because it makes those moments where he acts like himself again hurt more.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“He just- I don’t know- whenever he actually says my name I know it’s him in there. Most of the time he calls me Jean, but I-“ your voice began to break “I don’t know how much more of this I can take Logan, watching his mind wither away into nothing.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

For a moment you swore you saw a flicker of concern spread across his face.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some extra help.” He said.

“And what? We risk someone else knowing that we’re harboring a fugitive?”

“With me working that leaves you as the only one here most of the time. If god forbid something happens while I’m out and he hurts you, what then?”

You fell silent. He was right, you couldn’t keep caring for Charles alone when his seizures could be so dangerous and unpredictable. You had no rebuttal.

“Fine, but finding another mutant won’t be easy.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m done talking business, you look like you could use a drink.”

Logan extended out his bottle of whiskey, a rare invitation for you to join him. You smirked and took it.

“Look at you actually wanting to interact with someone for once.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You sat next to him on the moth-eaten couch, drinking a few shots worth from the bottle.

“Thirsty?” Logan asked with a cocked brow.

“Shut up, it’s been a long day.” You retorted, downing another shot and handing the bottle back to him.

Between the two of you the whiskey was finished within half an hour, leaving you significantly intoxicated, him slightly less so. When drunk Logan was far more open, and for the first time since Westchester you actually saw him smile. As the night progressed the two of you reminisced about life before Mexico and shared life stories you hadn’t told each other.

“A cage fighter?” You giggled.

“Yeah, went by Wolverine back then too.”

“Wow, too lazy to even try to come up with another name?” You teased as you looked down at your phone and read the time, midnight of the 25th.

“Oh shit, it’s already Christmas.” You said.

“Honestly wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say anything, the days just run together at this point.”

“No kidding, everything’s so different now.”

“… Yeah.”

A wistful silence hung in the air for a moment before you spoke.

“You know it’s hard not to miss the holidays back at the school… can’t say I miss Jean’s cooking though. I know how you felt about her, but that woman could not season food to save her life. I’m pretty sure she thought salt was too spicy.”

Logan gave a chuckle.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”

“I think what I miss most was seeing the kids all happy on Christmas morning, growing up in an orphanage I never got that for myself. Thanks to Bobby they always had a good snowball fight.”

“I miss that kid. Him and Rogue.”

“Kid? They were both pushing 40.” You laughed.

“They were kids when I met them and that’s always how I’ll remember them. Especially Rogue.”

“I always thought she saw you as like a father figure.”

“She definitely did, no matter how many times I told her not to.”

“I miss her so much, she was the first one other than Charles to make me feel like I belonged there. Fuck, I just miss all of them. It was only five years, but it was the best damn five years of my life, actually having something like a family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You gave a wry smile.

“And in the end out of all of the X-Men to be stuck with of course it had to be you.” You teased, elbowing him playfully.

“You say that like it’s a joke, but you really had it in for me.”

“I mean I did, but you didn’t exactly come off as a nice guy.”

“I can be a nice guy, you just never tried to get to know me.”

“Would you have let me though?”

“Maybe.”

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen from him before, it made your heart do a backflip.

“You know, even if I wasn’t crazy about you back then I’m glad you’re here with me.” You said.

Logan raised a brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Because as much as I hate to say it, I’ve grown to like you.”

“A mistake honestly.” He chuckled.

A cold desert wind suddenly blew against dilapidated smelting plant. Frigid air crept in through the gaps in the walls, eliciting a shiver as it hit you.

“Cold?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.“

“Alright, c’mere.”

Logan pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. His body radiated an incredible amount of heat, a more than welcoming feeling in the bitter temperatures.

“Holy shit, you’re like a fucking furnace.” You said.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“God yes.”

His hands began to wander down to the small of your back. You traced the outline of his pecs with your fingertips. He looked at you, eyes betraying an intense desire as he cupped your cheek, coming in close.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.” You whispered as his lips met yours.

Starting slow and soft, Logan’s kisses quickly turned more passionate, a distinct hunger to them. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his hard cock press into you through his jeans. You rolled your hips against him, causing him to let out a growl. He lowered his head, kissing and gingerly biting your neck. You moaned as his teeth scraped against the soft skin.

His hands began to drift to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric in his fingers and slowly lifting it over your head. He unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing its aside. You watched his eyes take in the curvature of your breasts.

“Good fuckin’ god, you’re perfect.” He whispered, cupping one of your breasts and circling the nipple with his thumb.

Logan’s hands fell to your hips, tugging down your jeans until they landed on the floor with your shirt. His fingers circled your clit over your panties, the thin barrier of fabric did little to keep you from turning into a whimpering mess.

“Goddam, I love those little noises.“

Logan dipped his head down to kiss your neck again, you moaned and began to grind yourself against him.

“Hmm, getting excited there, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” You whimpered.

“Yeah? Let me make it feel even better for you, babygirl.”

Logan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs. He slipped a hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers along the slit of your dripping pussy.

“So wet and worked up for me.”

Logan returned his fingers to your clit, you dug your nails into his shoulders, the feeling of direct stimulation was almost too overwhelming. It had been far too long since you were last touched like this, or even touched yourself. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“F- fuck, I’m- I’m so close.”

“There you go, that’s it. Cum for me, princess.”

Logan pulled you into a kiss with his free hand as you came undone on his fingers, the electric pulses of your orgasm surging through you.

“Oh god, Logan.” You moaned against his mouth.

Logan kissed you aggressively as your orgasm faded. He dropped his head to your breasts, peppering kisses to them as he spoke.

“God, you’re so hot when you cum. You need to see what you’re doing to me, babygirl.”

Logan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, he unzipped his jeans and freed his already throbbing cock from his boxers. Logan took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his shaft. You gathered beads of precum from his head, using it to lubricate the length of his cock as you stroked him.

“Fuuuck, your hand feels good, but I need that pussy. You wanna ride me, princess?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shifted yourself to hover just above is cock, sinking down onto him, barely taking more than his head before wincing as you felt his massive girth stretch you wide.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, just been a while. Not used to one this big either.”

“Then take it slow, princess. Don’t rush it.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, following his instructions to go slow. A small shudder escaped his lips.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

You reached the hilt of his shaft, feeling him throb inside you as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Attagirl, just like that. Nice and easy.” Logan said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Christ, living with you was starting to drive me crazy. I could barely take seeing you in the summer, your ass in those little shorts. You don’t know how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”

You blushed and whimpered at the thought of Logan getting so worked up over you.

“Hmm, you like that, babygirl? You like knowing you made this old man stroke his fat fuckin’ cock to you?” He grunted as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.

You nodded.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You moved yourself up and down on his cock, sliding him all the way out until only the head remained before taking his full length back deep inside you. Logan’s eyes wandered over every inch of body. His hand moved to one of your breasts.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of these tits, and this ass.” He growled.

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Sorry, princess, couldn’t help myself.”

“N- no it’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh? You like it rough, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Well, guess I gotta fuck you senseless then.”

In one swift motion Logan grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you down onto the couch on your back with him on top of you. You barely had a second to adjust to the new position before he forced every inch of himself inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head as he fucked you with a punishing speed.

“How’s that feel? Am I rough enough for you, princess?”

“Y- yeah. F- feels so good.”

“Attagirl.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, his hips stuttering.

“Christ, that tight little pussy’s gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Where do you want it, babygirl?” Logan panted.

“In me, I need you to cum in me. Please.” You whined.

“Jesus, I know you’re not on the pill, but keep begging like that and I’ll have to knock you up.”

“Oh god, please. I don’t care if we’re unprotected. I need it, fucking breed me.” You pleaded.

Your words ignited something within him. He thrusted furiously into you at a blinding pace, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck and gave a loud growl, slamming the full length of his cock inside you as he came hot, thick ropes deep in you.

Logan gave a last few thrusts, his breathing beginning to settle. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Jesus Christ, princess, it’s been way too damn long since someone’s made me feel that good. I hope you know this is not a one time thing, you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

You laced your fingers in his salt and pepper hair, kissing him passionately. He pulled out and you moved to dress yourself, but were interrupted by him grabbing your waist.

“No princess, you’re staying with me.”

He picked you up and carried you to his room, setting you down on the bed. He laid next to you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. Between the exhaustion of the day and the warmth radiating from Logan, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. He kissed the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

[notlongerfunny]

The way some of you talk about younger sibling is wack

[capriszn]

theres no way to say this without sounding like an asshole but it fucking sucks being right all the time LMFAOOO

[itneverendshere]

BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party. 

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i  didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,” 

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

 “i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound. 

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body. 

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing. 

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver. 

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into. 

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different. 

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting. 

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe. 

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible. 

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up. 

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough. 

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips. 

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting. 

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed. 

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening. 

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.” 

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control. 

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window. 

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open. 

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body. 

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.” 

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you. 

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something. 

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch. 

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right, 

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?” 

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind. 

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick. 

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell. 

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm. 

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone. 

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace. 

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else. 

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes. 

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes. 

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb. 

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him. 

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you. 

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you. 

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more. 

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this. 

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place. 

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

[cvpidzcvrse]

𝔄𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔉'𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩?

MDNI, skadaddle nigga

✦A/N: i swear i try to post more but like but sitting on my ass is just rlly fun to do. BUT OFC I CANT BE GONE FOR LONGG!! also i didn’t proofread so ignore typos. here’s an ony fic that i pushed out my pussy bc i’m hot like that. ENJOY!

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and ony have been fwb for a few months now. On a strict “no emotions involved” type of situation. But he can’t help it if he gets jealous when you start talking to someone else. Your famous last words? "Make me, nigga."

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Wc: 2,233

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Warnings: Mdom, argument, jealous ony, degradation, light choking, oral male!receiving, manhandling, spanking, face fucking, orgasm denial, fingering, very little praise, he’s mean asf, p in v, and finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(reader is black)

You and Onyankapon have been friends with benefits for a couple of months now. It all started because you wanted to lose your virginity badly. You were gnawing at the bars of your enclosure, being that dick hungry you put pornstars to shame. But you didn’t want to lose something so special to someone you barely knew. So you went down a line of people you knew, most of them you immediately shot down. Connie was a whore, Armin had a girlfriend, Jean is…Jean, so what was left was your best friend. He took the opportunity and ran with it, now you guys fuck at least twice a week.

Ony made the sex strictly just sex, with no relationship or strings attached. Just adults blowing off steam almost every weekend. He said it was ok to talk to other people, that’s where Eren comes in. You met him through Armin 2 weeks ago and you guys haven't stopped talking since. Even now, you’re at Ony’s house watching a movie but you can’t separate your eyes from your screen. He invited you over with the notion of just “watching a movie” but he just wanted to fuck, and you knew that. 

“Me Personally, I’d definitely survive in the quiet place. Like all you have to do is be quiet, it’s easy.”

You nod your head slowly, paying no attention to Ony’s statement. Your fingers are flying across your phone, you’re having a deep conversation with Eren. Ony looks over at you and rolls his eyes, you can feel his attitude radiating off of him and steam coming out of his ears.

“My nigga, you’re not even listening to me,” 

“First, I’m not ‘your nigga’. Secondly, I am listening…”

You trail off after hearing your phone go off with a ding. You snatch your phone out of your lap quickly and start typing away. He gives you the most crazed look he can muster. 

“Nigga, are you f’real?”

You look over at Ony’s reaction and the fact that he’s acting like such a drama queen right now. There’s no way he’s hurt by the fact that you’re talking to other people. He’s the one who made the rules in the first place, so why does he care who you talk to? He’s starting to regret his rule-making skills. Your flawless brown skin-pops with your white hoodie and sweatpants to match. Even before y’all started hooking up he thought you were the most beautiful person ever. 

“Damn, what the fuck are you talking about? Are you good?”

You frowned at his outburst, confused by the sudden change in tone. You finally put your phone to the side and put your attention on Ony. 

“You’ve been on your phone this whole fucking time. Paying absolutely no attention to me or the movie. Who are you even texting?”

“No One-” 

Ding..

Ony groans before snatching your phone out of your lap and softly pushing you back from getting it. You get up from your position on the couch and start reaching over his head but his grip on your wrist won’t budge. 

“Let’s see who you’re so fucking focused on…”

He looks at the screen and goes silent before turning his head at you. You’re standing there with an overly irked look, hands on your hips, and eyeing him up and down.

“...Eren!? Eren fucking Jeager!? Don’t tell me you’re actually talking to that sorry ass nigga?’

You roll your eyes at his possessiveness. There’s no reason why he should be concerned about who you text and who you decide to mingle with. It’s your pussy and can determine who it wants, right? 

“It’s not something you should be concerned about. Shit, just give me the dick so I can leave, that’s why you called me over right?”

His eyes go wide at your boldness. He can’t tell if you’re upset or just trying to rile him up—either way, it’s making him go insane. 

“Take that bass out yo’ voice mama. I’m looking out for you, Eren isn’t the type you want. Stop talking to that nigga”

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue showing clear signs of irritation. His baritone voice sends chills down your spine. Even when he’s irritated he still looks handsome, the warning look in his eyes makes your pussy clench.

“Who are you talking to right now? I ain’t gotta do shit, f’real. I’m not gonna let some Chiptole bag-tatted ass nigga tell me what the fuck to do.” 

Ony’s eyes are bulging out of his head and the vein on his forehead is starting to grow. He isn't fond of your attitude, he snatched you up multiple times because of it. He slowly gets up from his spot on the couch, now looking down at you with a dark look in his eye. 

“Watch your tone…”

He says eerily calm, his low voice coming out as silk to your ears. It’s like he’s talking directly to your pussy and she’s listening to every word he’s saying. Instead of standing down like he said you decide to stand on business, which is one mistake amongst many.

“Make me, nigga..”

You scuffed and rolled your eyes. That statement alone made Ony let out a rich chuckle, his face displaying a cheeky smirk. Before you even have time to gauge his actions you feel his callous hand wrap around your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Make you what? Say it again..”

He whispers seductively in your ear. You turn away from him before he roughly drags your face back to his. You shake your head not wanting to even breathe, You started this mess now he has to finish it. 

“The cock slut doesn’t wanna speak, huh? Take off your clothes since you want my dick so badly.”

The tent in his pants is now noticeable. He lets go of your neck and sits back down on the couch. You start untying your sweatpants, then slowly taking over your panties, followed by your hoodie and bra. Now you’re standing in front of him, all dignity stripped away with your clothes. 

“Get on your knees and suck this dick, I’ll show you exactly how to watch that mouth one of yours.” 

You nod before sitting in front of him unbuckling his belt. You slide down his pants to reveal his bulging cock through his underwear. You slowly pull down his underwear, earning a scuff from Ony. He pushes your hand away and pulls his cock out himself. His leaking mushroom tip was just inches away from your face. 

“Open your mouth.”

His passionless voice makes your clit throb and your stomach drop. He’s giving you no mercy tonight and you know that. You open your mouth wide as directed and impatiently wait for his next. He chuckles at how pitiful you look at this moment, taking a mental snapshot in his head. You’re waiting for his next command, your hand in between your thighs as you subtly grind on your hand for some type of friction. He grabs the base of his cock and slaps the tip on your tongue. 

“You like this shit, don’t you? Go on, suck it.”

You wrap your plump lips around his big cock, bobbing your head slowly. You trace circles around his tip with your tongue. He lets out a string of groans, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his cock. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down on his cock roughly. You gag when his cock grazes the back of your throat with force. Tears swell in your eyes as he fucks your face senselessly. The vibrations of your moans drive him crazy, your muffled moans and tears send him over the edge. 

“Mhm…Swallow this cock—fuck”

His head lays on the couch cushion behind him. His hand travels from your neck to the back of your head, gripping your hair harshly. Your faux locs are now scrunched up in his hand. He starts pushing your head down rougher as his pace starts getting sloppy. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and hot tears flow down your face. 

“Fuck–I’m about to cum. Make me cum, slut.” 

You moan at his command, your fingers travel down to your soaked pussy, and start massaging your aching clit. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head at his messy tempo pushing him closer and closer to his climax. White ropes shoot down your throat, and the warm thick substance slides your throat. His dick flops out your mouth with a ‘pop’. You rub fast circles on your clit wanting to cum as hard as he did. Right before you make it you feel Ony grab your wrist, halting any movement. 

“Who said you could touch yourself? Get up…”

You pout at your ruined orgasm. You get up before he grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap. Your ass grazes his cock and your back is to his chest. He spreads your legs and hands as he traces small circles on your clit. Your head falls back in satisfaction, he smoothly inserts two of his long fingers inside your damp cunt. You grab his arm roughly, leaving dark nail marks on his tatted skin. His finger moves in and out of you with wet sounds accompanying it. 

“F…fuck…right there..”

You whine into his neck when you feel his pace quicken. He’s knuckles deep inside of you, the speed of his strokes increasing by the second. He chuckles at the sight, you’re drooling, your eyes screwed shut, and pornographic moans flooding the living room.

He groans as you squirm in his lap, your bare ass rubbing against his hard cock. He uses his other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your grip tightens on his arm, your nail prints getting deeper every time he picks up his pace. His fingers plunging into your cunt with such speed and aggression brings you closer to your orgasm. 

“F—Fuck…s…slow down…I’m about…to—”

Ony chuckles before pausing his movement. He removes his fingers from your sloppy pussy and trails his hand over to your ass and gives it a small squeeze. 

“Only good girls get to cum. C’mon, face down ass up. Right now.” 

You whine at the absence of friction and he gives your ass a hard ‘Smack’ in response. He tossed you over to the other side of the couch before turning you on your stomach. He slides his cock on your warm slit, teasing your greedy pussy. He gives your ass a sharp slap before plunging his cock into your pussy without warning. 

You let out a porno-worthy moan and grab one of the couch cushions for stability. Ony quickly picks up the pace, abusing your cervix with every stroke. He gives your ass a couple of harsh slaps before grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your face into the couch cushion. The living room is overflowing with moans, grunts, and the sound of your sopping wet pussy. You put your hand back to stop Ony’s forceful thrust. 

“S—Shit…slo—ow…down…fuck” 

“Nah, Take this shit…Fuck, you’re such a slut.” 

Ony slaps your hand away before placing both of his hands on your hips, pulling you deeper into every thrust. You stifle your moans with your both as the bully of your pussy continues. 

‘Ding’

‘Ding’

You hear him groan as his strokes cease. He grabs your phone from the other side of the couch before scoffing at the name. 

“What the fuck does this lame ass nigga want?... Hold on.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice, his cock going at a slower pace than before. You let out a few whimpers that earn you a harsh slap on your already stinging ass. 

“Hush…” 

His monotone voice sends chills down your spine. You have no clue what's going on behind you until you notice the shadow of your silhouette on the neighboring wall. 

‘Is that a flashlight? Wait…is he recording?’

Before you can confirm your answer he goes back to abusing your pussy. You muffle a moan with the pillow in front of you. He presses your body against the couch, the only thing talking is the wetness of your pussy.

“Shit…She’s talking to me, mama. C’mon, tell him who this pussy belongs to.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out but slutty moans. He gives your ass a hard smack, placing his free hand on your lower back. 

“Y-You! F—Fuck!... You do! You own this…mmph…slutty pussy!”

You choke out, completely cock drunk. You hear him chuckle and groan. You pussy turning him into a mess also. His strokes begin to get messy and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Shit mama…cum on my cock baby .”

He reaches his free hand around to trace circles on your clit.  Almost like clockwork, you leave your juices all over his cock and coat his shaft in a slippery mess. You feel his tip hit your G-spot a few more times before you feel his warm and sticky cum engulf your inside. His cock is covered in both of your juices, a ring of the mix at the base of his cock. 

Your brain is fogged with lust, you can barely think right now. All you can see are stars and darkness before finally feeling him pull out. 

“Did my dick feel good?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re my slut, right?”

“Mhm…” 

“Thank you, mama."

[Sent: 1 Attachment.]

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part IX

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: It's been a minute, y'all! I've missed my Less Talk crew! Second last chapter, here we go!

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, smut, angst, fluff, you might dislike me when this is over

Masterlist | Part I

“Jake!” you call as you run after him out of the restaurant. “Jake, wait!”

But Jake doesn’t stop. He can’t.

The moment Mustang utters the words ‘we’re engaged’, he goes numb. Bradley says something that he can’t quite hear or doesn’t want to comprehend. The crowd starts cheering and closing in. And he sees your eyes, wide with alarm as you try to keep him in your line of sight despite the moving bodies between you.

And then he’s gone. Shoving his way through the well-wishers as he makes for the door. But he’s only halfway to his truck when he hears your voice. And as he pulls aggressively on the handle, he perceives your approaching footsteps; you’re running.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and turns to look at you without a word. You jog toward him, stopping just short of his bumper, and then you move forward slowly, as though you’re afraid he might bolt.

“It’s not true,” you blurt out, your words slurring into one another because you’re trying to get them out so quickly.

Jake gawks at you, not know what to believe anymore.

“I promise you,” you say. “It’s over.”

Jake furrows his brows, staring at you incredulously. “I don’t think he knows that.”

You let out a shaky breath and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He will.”

Jake watches you with contempt. “So, he doesn’t yet.”

Your eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun but you blink away the tears, conveniently averting your gaze. Jake sets his jaw; he isn’t falling for the innocent act.

“I can’t help you,” he says levelly. “Because I don’t know what’s going on.” He bangs a fist on the hood of his truck and then takes a step toward you. “Because you won’t tell me anything!”

You nod, catching a couple of tears with the tip of your index finger. You don’t let any of them fall and you manage to compose yourself before your emotions get out of hand. “I don’t need your help,” you whisper, looking at the dirt caked into the treads of his tire rather than up at his face.

“Fine,” he replies. Although it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. He, certainly, is not fine. “Then I don’t need to be here.”

“Fine.” You shrug, obstinately avoiding eye contact.

Your apathetic tone irks Jake, but he’s not about to let you witness just how much you affect him. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans before balling them up into fists. There’s only one piece of information he absolutely needs to know. The rest can probably wait. “Are you gonna marry him?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he anticipates.

You meet his gaze finally – guiltily – but don’t respond.

Jake says nothing more. He opens the door to his truck and gets in, and you don’t stop him. He turns over the engine and waits for you to step out of the way before he backs out swiftly and floors it out of the lot.

…

The sound of your voice jolts him awake. He sits up straight in his bed, listening intently, wondering if he’d dreamt it. But then your laughter carries up to the second floor. Jake closes his eyes. You must be in the kitchen with Bradley.

Jake hasn’t seen you in two weeks; hasn’t wanted to. Seeing you has only ever caused him pain. Even before he realized he liked you, your presence had always seemed to shift him out of orbit. Your stupid quips and endless debates, the judgmental look in your eye whenever Jake tried to stand his ground. It got worse when it finally occurred to him that he enjoyed that sort of abuse.

Jake runs his hands over his face, trying to tune you out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the arguments. You’re the only person who’s ever really put him in his place. And how he’s loved putting you in yours.

Jake gets out of bed with a sigh, pausing at the closed door of his bedroom to listen. It isn’t eavesdropping if he’s not actually interested in the topic of conversation; all he wants is to hear your voice.

“I swear I will never drink drip coffee again,” you announce with conviction.

Jake holds back a laugh, leaning his head into the doorframe.

“It’s basically sewer water by comparison,” you continue.

Jake snorts.

“Have another croissant,” you urge.

“You brought enough to feed a squadron,” he hears Bradley retort. “I’m not eating them all.”

You go quiet for a moment, saying something Jake can’t quite make out. He pushes off the frame and shuffles into the bathroom. He’s still pissed, and no amount of baked goods will convince him to go downstairs. He’s not ready for that. And, if all goes to plan, he’ll just slowly get over you and never have to see you again.

Once he’s out of the shower, Jake towel dries his hair and then quickly pats down his body. He listens for signs of conversation, but the house is quiet now. You and Bradley must have left.

“Bradshaw?” he calls, just in case.

No answer.

He heads down to start a pot of coffee before getting dressed but, when he enters the kitchen, you are the first thing he sees. You look up from where you're sitting at his table and yelp – because he’s butt naked – leaping out of your seat and covering your eyes with your hands, promptly turning away.

“What the fuck, Seresin!” you scream.

Jake jumps behind the counter. “What?” he shouts. “What the fuck, yourself! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you!” you screech. “But, like, not so much of you!”

Jake cringes, still in shock from the encounter. He grabs a throw blanket off the couch and wraps it around his waist. “Why didn’t you answer when I called down?” he yells, his temples pounding as if his head is housing a goddamn woodpecker.

“You called for Bradley!”

Jake shakes his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why are you running around naked?” you squeal, still turned away and holding your hands over your eyes.

“I thought I was home alone! You don’t walk around naked in your own home?” Jake cries in outrage. He’s not about to let you win this fight.

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” you admit.

Jake, who’s about to retort to whatever argument you make, falls silent. He stares at your back, trying very hard not to picture what that particular scenario might look like. He gulps. “Well, alright, then,” he says. He steps away from the counter, the blanket securely tied at his hips, and walks around tentatively. “You can look now,” he says wearily.

Hesitantly, you turn to face him, although you avoid looking directly at him. “You’re still not wearing a shirt,” you say pointedly, keeping a hand up to block the view.

Jake grimaces. “Is it too exhilarating for you, princess?” he bites back.

You drop your hand and finally look at him – albeit with a scowl. You narrow your eyes irritably. “Get over yourself.”

Jake shrugs. “You can always return the favor,” he suggests, gesturing at your baby tee that’s hugging your curves just right.

You roll your eyes and make your way toward the counter, purposefully walking around the table – which is the longer route – to avoid getting too close to Jake. He watches you levelly. “Why did you want to see me?” he asks sourly.

You glance up at him, still frowning, and push a bakery box across the counter toward him. “I brought you breakfast.”

Jake doesn’t smile; one breakfast two weeks down the road isn’t going to magically repair the damage you’ve done. “Why?”

You gulp. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and drops his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he responds moodily.

You reach further down the counter and drag a paper cup into view. “I got you a coffee, too,” you add, as though this might tip the scales in your favor. “Americano.”

Jake, who is dying for some caffeine, responds with, “I’m not thirsty.”

You exhale sharply. “Don’t be a baby.”

He fixes you with a scathing look. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I bothering you?”

Jake scoffs. “Well, for starters, you’re still here.” He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of eggs. “You hungry?” he asks grumpily.

You turn to face him as he sets a bowl down on the counter and starts cracking eggs. He’s right next to you now so he can see you seething out of the corner of his eye.

“I brought you breakfast!” you cry in outrage.

Jake starts to whisk the eggs without looking at you. “I don’t want that, I want this.” He glances over at you at this point and adds spitefully, “We all have to make difficult choices from time to time.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jake!” you exclaim, pulling the bowl out from under his nose. Half-beaten egg splashes onto the counter.

Jake tosses his whisk into the sink and takes a step away from the counter. He releases a quick breath and sets his jaw; but he still can’t look at you. “What is your problem?” he says in a low voice, keeping his eyes on a random chip in the paint of one of his kitchen cupboards.

“What’s my problem?” you screech.

He can tell that you’re getting worked up and it’s taking all his energy to keep his cool. He clenches his teeth and rolls his shoulders, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

“You’re so mad at me that you won’t even drink my coffee?” you yell, the bowl of raw egg still in your hands.

Jake stares harder at the paint chip because he’s on the verge of completely flying off the handle. But he could only devote so much of his attention to negligible bullshit until he finally breaks. Agitatedly, he meets your gaze and bellows, “I’M SO MAD AT YOU, I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT YOU!”

Your mouth falls open at his words and you blink at him in shock. After a moment, you look away, silently replacing the bowl on the counter. You’re chewing on your lip as you do this, your gaze lingering on the bowl even after you’ve released it from your grasp, like you’re reluctant to let it go.

Jake briefly closes his eyes. You’re not facing him, so you don’t witness the fleeting display of regret that steals over his features. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a way that makes you go quiet. He wants you to react – loudly, obnoxiously, passionately. He wants you to yell back. Because that’s how he knows you’re okay.

“I’ll go,” you say, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your shorts. You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a resigned sort of look.

He nods. As much as he might've missed this kind of heated warfare, the lingering hostility is not in anyone’s best interest. “There’s an idea,” he says sarcastically, still keeping a safe distance away from where you’re standing by the counter.

Your mouth falls agape again. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to go. But, if you do, he wants you to leave angry; not sad. So, he provokes you. “And take your crazy with you,” he says, gesturing toward the front door with his entire arm.

You let out an indignant scoff that turns into a sort of cry. “What did you call me?” you shriek, stepping up to him aggressively.

Jake glances down at you, squaring his jaw to keep from smirking. “What’s the politically correct word for completely unhinged?”

Your eyes go wide and, for a split second, he thinks you might actually hit him. But you’re not one for physical violence; you can strike below the belt with your words. “As if you give a damn about offending an already stigmatized group of people,” you retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “At least I give a damn about the people I actually know.”

You let out a derisive laugh. “Oh yeah? So much so that you’re practically shoving me out the door?” you yell.

Jake rolls his eyes. “No one’s kicking you out,” he says gruffly, walking past you back to the counter. “Just stop taking my eggs away and we’re gravy.”

You fold your arms grumpily and stand there in his kitchen, fuming.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “What?” he says.

“You don’t like croissants?” you ask crossly, as if he’s gravely insulted you by opting for scrambled eggs.

Jake sighs. He reaches for the box of pastries on his counter and throws open the lid. He grabs a croissant irritably and brings it to his mouth, taking a large bite. “Happy?” he asks, chewing.

You watch him impassively. “You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“You’re ridiculous!” he yells. “You’re pissed because I won’t eat your damn food?”

Your eyes suddenly well up with tears. “I’m pissed because – because” – you suck in your cheeks defiantly, as if you’re not prepared to elaborate.

Jake swallows uncomfortably; he doesn’t like the idea of being responsible for making you cry.

You shake your head and sniffle. “I’m not mad!” you shout. “I came here to make up with you!”

Jake tosses the croissant onto the counter and it lands in the spilt yolk from earlier. He ignores this and steps toward you. “Why?” he yells back.

“Why what?” you scream as he approaches.

“Why make up with me?” he presses.

You stare at him angrily. “What do you mean? We were friends!”

Jake shrugs. “We weren’t close.”

You scoff. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Jake says levelly, then he adds, raising the volume of his voice as if the conversation could stand to get any louder. “I never wanted to be your friend!” You go quiet for a moment, your tears subsiding as you take in his words. But he doesn’t give you a chance to mull them over. “You’re a fucking nightmare!” he continues emphatically, taking another step.

You lift your face as he draws nearer, glaring at him unblinkingly. You don’t back away; you stay put, even as he towers over you.

Jake grimaces in a way that conveys disgruntlement and despair in equal measure. He lets out an uneven sigh, his eyes skimming over your face. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, much quieter now, as he meets your gaze.

You stay perfectly still, as if his immense frame looming over your body is completely insignificant compared to your ruthless glower. In all fairness, you’re probably right. “I hate you,” you whisper.

Jake nods with a slight smirk. “Likewise.”

The thrill of riling you scorches his veins, but he’ll be damned if anger is the only thing he can make you feel. He wants you so desperately, he can hardly think straight.

You’re scowling at him but all he can see is the fire in your eyes, fierce and unrelenting, daring him to make another move. Jake is game – enthusiastically, to boot. He’s mad, sure. But, truth be told, you could be engaged to fifty men – none of them him – and he’d still want to fuck you. Hell, this only makes things easier; no fucking strings, just fucking sex.

He slides an arm behind your waist and pulls you forward abruptly. You gasp as if you weren’t expecting it. But with the way you’ve been staring him down, there is no way you didn’t see this coming.

He waits a moment, anyway, allowing you the opportunity to give him a smack for being overly presumptuous. But the animosity on your face has already been replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity. You’re very still, staring up at him sympathetically, because you know – you know – what he wants. Because you want it too.

Jake lifts his free hand up to the side of your neck, sliding it up through your hair to cup the back of your head and gently pull you forward. This is exactly the kind of situation he was meaning to avoid. But the warning bells are fleeting, and his lips are on top of yours before he can stop himself.

You push into him slightly – almost imperceptibly, except he perceives it – and instantly this kiss becomes the single most thrilling experience of his life. He moves in, absorbing your body in a rushed, impatient embrace, and you mold against him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

He can feel the soft fabric of your shirt rubbing against his skin but all that he truly registers is how your tits are compressing into his chest. He kisses you harder, stifling an entire anthology of dirty words that suddenly materializes on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t enough terms in the English language to fully express the way he craves to handle every inch of you, anyway.

You withdraw, at this point, to breathlessly exclaim, “You think you’re not a pain in the ass?”

Jake pulls you back with a mild roll of the eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth as you scoff in outrage.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you retort between the pecks he layers over your lips.

Jake grins against your mouth. “Shut up,” he repeats, dragging you backward as he steers you toward the staircase.

You let out a muffled – but distinctly indignant – cry. “Make me!” you exclaim as he stoops to wrap his hands around your thighs and lift you off the ground.

“I’m fucking trying,” he replies, closing his mouth around yours once he's picked you up.

Strategically speaking, making out while carrying someone up a flight of stairs is efficient. In practice, however, it’s a complicated task. Several times, Jake veers into one of the railings or nearly trips over his own feet. By the time he’s reached the second floor, his legs are tangled in the blanket he had wrapped around his torso, and the blanket itself is on the verge of unravelling. But Jake ignores the obstacles and resolutely marches you right into his bedroom.

He throws you unceremoniously onto the bed and retightens the blanket around his hips as though he means to keep it on. He looks down, pausing for a second to watch you catch your breath. Not because he thinks you might unexpectedly have a change of heart, but because he wants to savor the moment. He takes your legs and unhurriedly pulls you closer to where he stands. “You’re awful quiet,” he notes with a smirk, his fingers winding up the sides of your thighs.

You gulp with a relatively stoic expression for someone who’s about to be railed. “You told me to shut up,” you deadpan.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “You listened?”

You bite into your lips, nodding slowly, and Jake’s heart damn near somersaults right out of his body. For once, you want to give up the reins.

He reaches up underneath the fringed hem of your shorts, grabbing your ass and tugging you forward. “What, no instructions?” he says, his hands lingering on your butt cheeks because he’s waited oh so long to squeeze that flesh. The way your eyes half-close tells him you don’t necessarily mind.

“You need instructions?” you say in a breathy but still detectably mocking tone.

Jake chuckles. “Whether or not I need them isn’t likely to stop you.”

“I can do a post hoc analysis,” you say as one of his hands finally moves upward, bunching your shirt at your ribs to expose your stomach.

Jake grins at your words. “Hot.” So much for dirty talk. Apparently, the plan is to have sarcastic sex.

Your lips spread into a wry smile, and you reach up to the blanket tied around his waist to pull him on top of you. “Stop talking, Seresin,” you whisper.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he says, bracing himself on his forearm at the side of your head. He stares into your eyes, wondering if he could really go through with it. How much does he really need to understand the complexities of your situation with Mustang? Isn’t it enough that you’re clearly hot for Jake? Isn’t it enough to just fuck and forget that you’re technically taken?

You’re watching him back, probably wondering the exact same thing. Isn’t it enough?

The truth is, every single moment spent in your presence is enough for Jake. And he was a fool to think that he could ever stay away.

He glides his hand up your abdomen, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingertips every time he lets them linger for a moment atop your skin. Does Mustang know that you like it slow? That you want to feel the rush of anticipation? Jake is willing to bet that Mustang only goes one speed.

Jake traces the curve of your ribs, his exploration leading him eventually to the swell of your breasts. Your bare breasts. How he hadn’t noticed that you’d been braless downstairs bemuses him. He must’ve been too preoccupied with his own wardrobe to thoroughly examine yours.

His hand seizes for a moment as he gets used to the idea of touching you. Of feeling your chest flare into the palm of his hand every time you take a breath. Then, he wraps his fingers around your ribcage, his thumb grazing the side of your tit as he moves you upward on the bed.

“You comfortable?” he asks after repositioning you.

You nod, your eyes still locked on his like you’re trying to see right through to his soul. When his thumb sweeps underneath your breast, you let out a whimper that disturbs the air between your mouth and his. And there’s a dizzying note of desperation in your voice that paralyzes Jake.

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, wondering how long before he’s completely lost himself in you. Wondering if that ship’s sailed. Wondering if Mustang has ever felt like he’s drowning and soaring all at once. If he’s ever been this gone. If you’ve ever moaned like that for him.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your skin, realizing that he’s lost the upper hand. That he’s going to need a moment to recuperate. That there’s a debilitating weakness in his limbs that’s an extension of his weakness for you, and he can hardly hold himself up any longer.

He breathes heavily into your neck, his lips catching on your collarbone as his fingers skim across your nipple. You let out a breathy whine that vibrates his very core. You like being teased. Figures.

Jake drives his pelvis into your side, seeking a split second of relief. The blanket around his torso is a mess of twisted, sticky fabric that’s now pressing into your bare skin, hopefully arousing you. You move your leg up and down, stroking him through the fleece with your thigh, and Jake groans, spreading his fingers over your tit and finally giving it a squeeze.

You release a soft moan and Jake brings his lips to your other nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin cotton of your shirt. It’s not that he can’t be bothered to remove your clothes, rather, he very well might not survive the spectacle. So, he sucks on your nipple right through the fabric while continuing to massage your other breast, pressing himself closer and closer.

This is all that he could ask for, really. You, in his bed, at long last talked out. And yet, he can’t help himself; conversing with you has become second nature and, without even thinking, he mutters, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

You let out a laugh that morphs into a soft cry as Jake pinches your nipple.

“Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continues, smirking against your neck.

Your chuckle pleases him. “Maybe if I weren’t such a pain in the ass.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut, cringing slightly as he nuzzles his head under your chin. “Maybe,” he agrees, dragging your t-shirt upward. He lifts his head and meets your gaze as you raise your arms, letting him remove it. “Maybe if you didn’t hate me,” he adds, somewhat hoarsely because you’re half naked now and he’s understandably distracted.

You bring your arms back down and slide your hands unhurriedly up his chest, linking your fingers behind his neck. “And you me,” you remind him gently.

Jake lets himself take you in for a moment, his eyes slipping southward before he looks back at you with a smirk. “At least the feeling’s mutual,” he says, slowly lowering himself until his lips meet yours.

You open your mouth, bathing Jake in your hot breath as you kiss him, and he reciprocates the gesture eagerly. Urgently. His hand is suddenly gripping your leg, sliding up the inside of your thigh. You’re moaning before he’s even reached the summit, tearing viciously at his lips with your teeth. Your fingers are twisting into his hair as you pull yourself into him, breathless and impatient.

Jake unbuttons your shorts with a couple of fingers and is hastily pushing them over your hips as your breathy gasps warm his ear. “What is it, princess?” he whispers, suddenly slowing his pace. He kicks your shorts off your ankles and places his hand on your inner thigh where he gently strokes your tender skin. He grins wickedly. “What can I do for you?”

“Jake!” you whimper desperately, shimmying yourself down to meet his hand.

Jake obliges, sliding his fingers up between your legs. He’s not about to make you beg for it when he can barely keep it together himself. Another time, maybe. Assuming there will be one. He’d like to hear you ask for it. Tell him exactly what you want, sparing no detail. He wants you to talk dirty to him. Talk, talk, talk.

But instead of talking, you reach out and grab him by the waist. You blink up at him silently and maneuver his hips until he’s right over top of you. Then, without taking your eyes off his face, you unravel the blanket that’s somehow still wrapped around him and shove it aside.

Jake has never in his life made love. He’s fucked, sure. He’s had plenty relations. And this time is no different. Except, he’s feeling something pure amidst the lewd temptation driving his corpus. It’s a buoyancy that’s both nauseating and distressingly pleasant and it radiates outward from his chest, nearly overriding his ever-present desire to make – fuck you silly.

And then, as Jake slides slowly inside you, you cling frantically to his neck and utter a shaky, monosyllabic nonword that is the epitome of less talk.

And Jake is suddenly making love.

…

“Y/N came earlier today,” Bradley says to Jake that evening, casually popping open a can of beer.

Jake lifts his eyes and looks over at his friend with a straight face. “She did,” he confirms.

“Oh.” Bradley nods. “She caught you, then.”

Jake stares at him mutely before turning away and clicking the kettle on the counter. “You could say that.”

Bradley nods, taking a gulp of beer. “She told you, then?”

Jake freezes with his hand on his mug. The only thing he seems to recall you saying is not something you would have also said to your best friend. “Told me what?” he says, slowly turning to face Bradley.

The latter furrows his brows. “Did you guys talk?”

Jake watches Bradley curiously. “Tons,” he responds. “You know how she never shuts up.”

Bradley narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You did see her, right?”

“I did,” Jake says confidently because he, indeed, saw you. All of you.

“Weird,” Bradley says. “She said she was hanging back so she could tell you too.”

“Tell me what, Bradshaw?” Jake asks impatiently, forgetting about the boiling kettle as he walks toward the table with an empty mug in his hand.

Bradley sets down his beer and leans back in his chair uneasily. “That she’s leaving.”

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[jifloulette]

it was foolish enough that you fell for his trap, but now you know how to play the game — no way were you going to let him win.

what ? . . . hcs of blue lock men reacting to what you did the second you found out about their hidden affairs. who ? . . . shidou ryusei, reo mikage, itoshi sae warnings ? . . . swear words, reader is a diva, toxic men, cheating

SHIDOU RYUSEI !

The second you found out he cheated on you through a call he had with his so called “manager” when he was stepping out of your shared house, saying things like “don’t worry, babe.. y/n’s dumb as fuck. they’ll never know.” — you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop but when you heard him mentioning your name it got you curious. And like what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

It was safe to say you had your fair share of cries and screaming that night. Not because you were sad — well you might’ve been but it was mostly due to anger. Why couldn't you stop the tears flowing down your face and your eyes from going blurry when you knew this was always going to happen? He just dated you for clout. Swarms and swarms of fans came flocking to him so in order for them to stop, he chose to love one of them. You were just an easy victim.

You were oblivious to his plan to keep you with him for his own good at first but his actions inside and outside of the home you two shared showed that he really couldn’t care less about you.

You went from always asking him if he ate, packing him lunch, “i love you” messages daily to barely doing the bare minimum in a relationship.

You weren’t lying if you said that you did want Ryusei to notice about the change in your behavior recently — to reassure you that he genuinely loved you. Adding that it was a honest mistake and he’d try to change.

It was a stupid thought really. How delusional did you have to be to think that? Looking at the man who you once loved so sickly makes your blood boil knowing about his true intention about being with you was.

So when an article blows up about Ryusei getting caught by paparazzi making out another with another woman in a soccer event of his, you could only laugh bitterly.

You immediately packed your things, a medium-sized white luggage and a black duffel bag ready to go. You didn’t pack all of them, some of your trinkets and clothes were things he gave to you because of how “special” you were to him. It irked you knowing that he only gave it to you out in public, never in private.

So imagine his surprise when he sees you with your things on the way to your car, immediately running towards you so he could stop you.

He hugged you tightly, it really disgusted you knowing that this man who was holding you in his arms like his life depended on it had touched countless of women too. 

You could only do so much to push the behemoth of a man off you before laughing hysterically at how he looked so pathetic.

You told him to drop the act because you already knew what you meant to him. You were nothing more than someone who he used for his own comfort and privileges. You were a backburner, a rebound, a temporary person in his life full of fame and soccer.

He pleaded for you to hear him out so you let him, at least wanting to hear what this pitiful excuse the man in front of you had.

“Please don’t leave, y/n..! It was just a small mistake, she came onto me! I was drunk, I couldn’t do anything.. please I can’t live without you. You know everything I need, you know what to say and what to do. You’re everything I have besides soccer, I’ll be damned if you leave me.” 

You could almost feel like cussing the man out in front of you. I mean, the audacity? Saying that you were the love of his life, that he can’t live without you? It’s almost as if he never did anything to you, he was making you seem like the culprit!

You applaud his acting before giving him a nice, good slap to bring him back to his senses. You weren’t stupid, you know more than this feeble man could ever know in his entire life. 

Before leaving, you say something that leaves him speechless. 

“You know? Be glad you chose soccer as your career because you could never cut out for acting. Plus, shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving you? You can fuck around all the girls and guys you’d like! Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll expose you or anything, oh wait! The public already knows.. boohoo”

REO MIKAGE !

You and Reo loved each other more than the two of you could ever know. Everyone knew that. You, Reo, and Nagi were the dynamic trio in your school, everyone saw that. You loved Reo because you just did, not for his popularity, his looks, and his money. 

Well maybe you were considering that last part ever since you discovered that he was fucking around some random girl in your class.

You really only found out when Nagi told you about it after 2 weeks of your boyfriend’s secret affair. Nagi really only knew after he eavesdropped the conversation the girl Reo was cheating on you with, saying that the girl said she was using him for clout and for his money. Something you’d never do to him.

To say you were angry was an understatement, you were fuming. The audacity of this man who you considered to be your first and last to do something as cruel and shitty as this?

So, you did what you had to do. Use his own fears and insecurities against him, being used. You knew it was brutal doing something like this, but was it really that bad compared to what he did to you?

You started off slow, asking him for a few hundred bucks before spending it on your heart’s desires. Reo noticed how most of your conversations was just you blatantly asking him for money before kissing him goodbye. To be honest, he was scared. Not because there was a chance of you using him but because you might’ve known about what he was doing behind your back and you were doing this as revenge.

Then, you started doing something bigger. He gave you free will of his credit card, saying that you deserved to treat yourself because you were his so called “love of his life”. You bought designer brands, buying jewelry that god knows you can’t afford, treating your friends for days and days. You had no thought behind your eyes but to just hurt the taro-haired boy for whatever he's worth.

And when he noticed the fatal drop in his savings, he finally confronted you. You could only really laugh at him for now only noticing your intentions recently.

He became disheartened — but really, who has he to be disappointed in what you did when he had done something much more evil? So when you told him that you knew about his little act, he could feel his heart drop.

He tried telling you that the girl who he supposedly “fucked” was just a bitch who could only create fake rumors but you’re not dumb, he knows that.

Shortly after, he became mad. He was screaming at you as if you started all of this. Victimizing himself, saying that if you really loved him, you would confront and talk to him about it like a normal person.

“You know what y/n?! Fuck you and your shit! If you really loved me, you would’ve done everything you could to keep me by your side! But not, you had to be a cunt about it and hit me with this mess! You know how insecure I am about all of this so w-why..?”

You were flabbergasted at his sudden breakdown — to be honest, you had more right to be mad at him than he was to you! I mean, who cheated in the first place? His father was a billionaire, so why did he care so much?

Likewise, you screamed at him. Telling the teared up boy in front of you that no one could ever love him like you did, adding that everyone who has ever had a crush on him were only after his status and fame.

“Okay, who the fuck are you to talk about shit like this again? The last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who cheated, huh?! So why do you care so much about what I do with your money? You did say that I deserved to treat myself so here I am! Go fuck that litte cunt all your life because all she’ll really love is your money, nothing else. Can you really call yourself a man? It’s funny how you make yourself the victim when I have more right to be mad at you?!”

Not to mention, you and Nagi also had something going on the second you found out about what he did. You told that to him as well, saying that even if Nagi was sloth-like, he took much more care of you than he ever could.

Oh and, the girl he was cheating with you on left him shortly after, her reason being that she had enough money to leave him, lol.

ITOSHI SAE !

People would view your relationship with Sae as destiny, i mean it certainly had to be fate, right? The light pink-haired man really didn’t let anyone in his life except for you. The two of you were happy in the world that you had created for yourselves! Or so you thought.

It turns out that Sae actually never loved you that much, you were just a replacement for his ex. You knew how harsh his past relationship with this girl was and boy, it frustrated you because how did he manage to play with your heart for two whole years?

Your efforts to make him love you didn’t go to waste, right? He did say he “loved” kissing you,  making sure to cuddle you every now and then. But who were you kidding, you could see right through his ice cold heart.

He never loved you for you, you were just an easy target, prey in other words. He knew you couldn’t deny his irresistible charms and fuck, was he right.

You fell for him the second he held your hand that one night in the club. It was a dangerous game to play, the relationship you two had was like russian roulette, except Sae knew where the bullet was. He made sure to let the bullet hit you.

How did you found out a bit, you ask? Well, when the two of you were on the couch, cuddling. He was whispering sweet nothings in your ear. unbeknownst to him, he had accidentally said the name of his ex. He didn’t notice he said it and as the lovestruck person you are, you didn’t say anything. You couldn't afford to confront him and have the possibility of him leaving you.

It happened a little 5-6 times before you really knew that it wasn’t you that was on his mind whenever he was with you, it was his ex. It was always going to be his ex. 

You’ve had cries and screams the moment you created that conclusion. It seemed as if you were pierced through the heart yet you still remained alive.

So, what better way to get revenge than letting him get a taste of his own medicine? Let him think you were cheating on him? Why not make him think you had something going on with his brother?

You had met up with Rin a few times before, but was only usually because he wanted help with something outside of soccer. Sae had seen you with his little brother enough times to know that your intentions to him were good. Even if they aren’t in good terms, he still has to care about him.

You started doing in minimally — only doing it every now and then. But now, it seemed as if you couldn't stop saying his little brother's name, it was like the man holding you as he was caressing your hair was no other than Rin. You wanted him to get hurt, it was the only reason you could think of as why you were still with him.

It's only when Sae had enough that he blew up on you, for the first time in years has he showed true emotions and anger. He was scary when mad, but you were terrifying. How dare he say that you were a bitch for supposedly cheating on him with his little brother?!

But really, you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. A spoonful of what he was doing to you. If he's doing it to you, it's okay — but when it's you doing the same, you're suddenly the antagonist, the villain?! How narcissistic can someone be?

He was screaming all sorts of swears at you, adding that the only reason he was with you this long was only because you were a mere duplicate of his ex. A mirrored version of her, except you already knew that. It was a useless attack in order for you to get hurt.

"What the actual fuck, y/n? How the hell are you here cuddled up with me when the only person you could think of is my little fucking brother? What?! Did that bastard treat you as good as I did? You know, be glad I'm still here with you because you're nothing more than an exact replica of my ex. Yeah! That's the only reason I'm with you! You're just nothing but a gullible bitch!

To say you were revolted was an understatement, no words could describe the burning hatred you felt towards the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you.

You obviously would never back down from an argument. I mean, you had more reasons to be mad at him than he was to you. As much as you wanted to scream at him back, shout words that would be too harsh to say again, you just stayed quiet. He was throwing whatever was on the bed at you — blankets, pillows, even his own jacket.

You waited for him to cool down before saying your own side of the story. You were never the villain after all, he had to know that.

"I didn't even do shit with Rin, I was only doing the same thing you were doing to me! You think I don't know that your ex was on your mind just right now as we were cuddling? You think I don't know the reason why you're still with me?! I knew at least 2 months ago, the audacity you have to say all sorts of words at me as if I did something wrong? It's no wonder your ex was such a bitch to you!"

Then, you left his house shortly after. but of course, you wanted the public to know as well. Your ig bio had Sae's username tagged in it, which you removed. As well as any posts you had with him on all of your socials.

Let him clean up this mess he had created, let him put the fire he started out. Let the public and paparazzi attack him, asking for questions as to why you did all those actions which seemed as if the two of you were over. You were done with him after all, everyone clearly knew. You had made him do all the 'clearing up', it was his fault after all — why should you have to clean up after him?

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[calamarieater]

Daves ENTIRE PERSONALITY revolved around being just like Bro he never had the time to develop his own personality because from day ONE he wanted to be JUST like Bro he thought Bro was so cool to the point where he even ignored the abuse and just considered it normal, it's so common in abusive households for the abused kids to want to be JUST like their abusers because they've never seen like a normal household, and like most kids you tend to look up to your parents, which is what Dave was doing. Daves entire personality all his interests like everything were branched off from what Bro liked, he never got into things that Bro DIDNT like the only thing he didn't like was Bros puppets but dave wanted to be JUST like Bro he looked UP to him and people seem to completely ignore Bros abuse because of how dave reacted to it but ? what Bro does is still abuse and often when kids are introduced to abuse early in life they dont know that its abuse and they consider it normal which is why Dave reacted the way he did because he WASNT AWARE THAT IT WAS ABUSE WHICH IS NORMAL IN ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLDS AND ABUSED KIDS OFTEN THINK LIKE THAT which is why it comes off as such a SHOCK when you tell a kid they're being abused and whats going on isn’t normal and it seems like most of the fandom just ignores Daves abuse and everything and the fact that he never really developed his own personality until later on just because of the fact that he never really reacted or talked about it which annoys me SO badly I get its like hard to understand what abused kids are like and their bebehavior and stuff but!! you gotta understand like all his interests and everything came from Bro, his entire life until Sburb he wanted to be just like Bro he looked up to Bro so much to the point the abuse wasn't even something he considered abnormal because he thought Bro was just trying to help him be stronger and have a better reaction time or whatever but that's not what was going on and dave didn't know because he hadn't ever seen a normal household/this was his entire life this is what was normal to him so he considered it normal even compared to his friends lives, especially considering all the kids have semi abnormal lives other than john for the most part so dave was just convinced his life was normal because it was what he was used to and his friends also had odd home lives so he was just convinced that his life was the same gah I love Dave. I just think people should TRY and understand Dave’s character more, and it also just irks me how people see him as some flirty dude when thats not how he is, hes a wannabe cool-kid who has no idea how to behave and just mimics his Bros behavior!!! He WANTS TO BE JUST LIKE HIS BRO!!! HE SPENDS SO MUCH TIME TALKING ABOUT HOW COOL HE THINKS HIS BRO IS and you guys i swear he would NOT be a flirty little shit. He lives for bickering so he can come up with cool comebacks so people think “Wow this guy is REALLY fucking cool” when they're talking to him. So many of you guys seem to forget hes 13 in the beginning, his behavior is just a direct copy of how he saw Bro. He did not develop his own personality until later in life, and even then he still had a lot of Bros traits. Most kids dealing with abuse dont even know that its abuse until way late in life, because again, ITS ALL THEY KNOW!! If you lived your entire life not knowing what you were going through was abnormal, or even unhealthy, you would consider it as “the usual” WHICH IS WHY DAVE NEVER HAD A BIG REACTION TO IT, BECAUSE HE WAS SO USED TO IT. HE DIDNT KNOW IT WASNT NORMAL. Dave was a 13 year old boy dealing with an abusive father figure. From his interests to his personality, he just wanted to be like bro. that's all he wanted.

But, towards the end of his arc, we DO see him start to turn away from that desire to be like bro. We see him slowly realize, he isnt like bro. He doesnt want to be like bro. He isn't a "hero" like bro was, he doesnt WANT to be like bro was. But his entire childhood circled around being like bro, and it wasnt until bro died that he finally realized that wasn't what he wanted. But, as it wasn't until late in his life that he realized, he wasnt really able to form his own personality.

In conclusion: Dave is NOT some coolkid flirty boy, hes an abused child with no personality of his own. He is so much more than most of you guys let him be, and its so irritating to me.

[reblogandlikes]

I'm convinced I'm not the target audience for the acotar series because I just saw someone say that they're rereading it and somehow love Rhysand more...? The first time I can understand the lack of introspection and caught up in the hype, but the second time? Seriously? Do people honestly think as Feyre and the IC does about him and are unable to see past the false persona of "amazingness" when he's a terrible leader and throws his power around to those who rightfully challenge him as a form of intimidation?

Maybe because they know where they story ends, they're now reading everything from a 20/20 romantic lense because they "understand him", but even with this understanding, to me, makes his entire personality even more underwhelming, forced and unnecessary. Oh so powerful, yet barely does anything substantial with it. Then what's the fucking point of you other than to fill a "morally ambitious", super powerful, dark haired quota trying to convey feminism, but not actually?

And then, when I'm critical, I have to check myself and ask if I'm being bloody pompous, but no. No, I'm not. The love for Rhysand is baffling for the genre he is in, and i think that's one of my main gripes. Dark romance, sure. But not in a series that has the audacity to hammers down "abusive" behaviour on one character but not the other in the books and by fans in online spaces. It's so weird. If you have fae's, let them be viciously so, because they are not human. Their behaviours and customs should be the differences highlighted. That should be the appeal, or am I wrong? Not for the faeness to used to be OK in one moment, but not in the next because it doesn't suit the convience of the plot or may paint your beloved in a bad light. You've then just convoluted your own world, sjm, and takes away character depth.

I'm tempted to say that I've aged out of sjm's storytelling style, but i've witnessed fully grown adults eat this shit up. But age has nothing to do with this, and I'm just honestly at a loss. I feel like an outlier. Like, I'm just not getting the appeal to these favourable characters and get frustrated when things are clearly unjust or misrepresented, yet others swear ones actions and behaviours are perfectly fine yet hate to see it in others. You can't just pick and choose when shit is ok or not, especially when the characters have very similar reasoning behind their actions. Maybe I like shit to be nuanced too much, which would explain why it irks me of being told what to believe in contrary to evidence.

It's ok to like whatever book you want, but just dont lie about the content within or delude tourselfninto believing characterisations that are false because even authors fall victim to their own character bias. *Sigh* So I'mma chill and go tackle the books on my tbr.

[bubsmiraculousau]

These are my OT5 brainstorm pages. Elaborations on how I got to these below! I reference concept pages so if you see any pictures you don't recognize that's why. <3

First up is Cat Noir who I think is already perfect lmao. For my version though I wanted to lean closer to his PV design because I love it, like his larger triangle nose (you can't really see it at the angle in my drawing but it's there I swear!), the bigger bell, the more elaborate belt, etc.... so basically everything ... just in my style instead.

With my designs I think that whenever someone transforms into their miraculous persona it's based on what they think a hero looks like or what they think is cool. I think Adrien reads a lot of comic books and is a fan of characters like Batman (relatable for him LOL), Catwoman, and Nightwing, so his suit reflects that kind of vibe.

Extra: I decided that Ladybug and Cat Noir's masks go all the way up their foreheads because it looks nicer in my 2D style with their bangs haha.

Next up is the one and only Ladybug! Unpopular opinion but I actually like the all red suit! My hypothetical series would be a webcomic, and I feel like in action scenes the red differentiates her from Cat Noir esp at a distance, and more red style keeps their color ratios even.

I like the ladybug designs with a bunch of black sections they're very cute! Just not for my au. (I think it's just me but I find drawing the ladybug designs with inverted red dots to feel sacrilegious in a way,,, just my neurodivergent brain lol)

And I am a long ribbons truther, I love them and they can be very expressive. Also I knew I wanted Marinette to have a more vertical circular eye shape because her shape vibe is definitely a circle (Adrien's is triangle) and it reminded me of the eyes for the main girl in princess jellyfish (I've never seen it, love the style tho)

Her hair is a more bright blue to contrast her hair against her suit, and make her look more cartoonish. I imagine her idea of a superhero comes from kids shows and some magical girl anime. So her hair has a plastic shiny texture to it because when she thinks 'superhero' she thinks of kids toys. Also I just like color! The blue kinda gives comic spiderman vibes imo (the version with the light blue instead of the navy)

Queen Bee definitely changed the most throughout the design process. I really like her in-show design so I just tweaked it to be more my vibe. Adding a crown because she's a Queen.

Something that I've noticed is that Alya and Chloe actually share a lot of traits (There's even some old concept notes where I believe Alya and Chloe either switch names or roles at some point?? The miraculous concept info rabbit hole is real y'all) and I think this comes through in their final designs.

Like they both share a middle part, which bothers me for some reason, so I decided to give Chloe a little Ariana Grande side part into a ponytail.

I wanted each character to have a cool little piece on their costume, so I tried these little hip things to make her more commanding and girlboss, but currently her weapon is similar to ladybug's (but more like one of those hair ties w the little disco balls on them) and it would sit on her hip and would clash w her hip thingies, so I just decided to make her weapon the hip things instead, combining the two.

Something else that bothered me a lot was that Rena was the only one with white on her costume. Everyone has black but she's the only one with white... my brain says that this cannot be. So I tried to give Bee some fun white fuzzy bits but the texture just was too different...

And then I had the mega-brain idea to make her hair white to tie in the white from Rena. Her and Cat Noir both having blonde hair irked me as well LOL so this hit two birds with one stone. I wanted her hair to be sharper and more aggressively drill shaped because of her abrasive personality haha.

After that, is Carapace. I had an idea for him from the start because I felt like his in-show design just doesn't match his personality... I couldn't make his outfit all loose because I wanted to stick generally to the miraculous suit formula, but I feel like 'skin tight suit' just isn't his vibe. So he has a kind of hammer pants situation.

I think they capture Carapace's b-boy ninja turtle vibe while still looking like a miraculous outfit. Though I decided later that I wanted the pants to be a lighter color for contrast and the visor to be white (to tie in that Rena Rouge white).

Lastly is Miss Rena! Something that bothered me (back on the similarities to Chloe) was that they both have ponytails (yes I know I'm crazy). Even though they have very different textures I just wanted each of them to be distinct from each other. So I put her hair down and just dramatized her regular hairstyle.

Also her and Queen Bee both have black gloves to their upper arms, which, you guessed it, bothered me. So I shortened Rena's to just reach her elbow.

I wanted her to look like a magic-man, her illusion powers evoke a showmanship energy to me. I imagine her and Cat Noir are quite the dramatic theater kid-esque duo.

So, for drama I tried some flowy arm bits, which I think ended up just looking a little strange, so I'll pocket that idea for something else. Then, I tried to add her coattail from the show, but it ended up looking a little frumpy, not the drama I wanted.

I ended up making her coat more triangular in the front, to give off the vibe of a magician's vest, and changed it to solider red/orange double coattails, which I think makes her more magic-man-ish. And I think the white ends made it too busy.

So those are my hero designs! I'm still working out Hawkmoth and Mayura, esp Hawkmoth because I am not good at drawing masculine older men...

If y'all want LESS of the artistic process let a girl know lol! I know some ppl like it but this is very long,,, all my drawings will not have text this long! thx for reading if you did tho xx

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Blind Dates // Hazel Callahan

request: College Au! Hazel x reader, PJ and Josie trying to set up reader with someone else and reader tells at them " I just want Hazel! " And ofc she hears that...

prompts: none

summary: after being set up on numerous unsuccessful blind dates in your attempt to get over hazel, you’re just about ready to give up on ever finding a partner. but what happens when hazel finds out about your feelings for her?

warnings: pj being kind of a dick

word count: 1.3k

a/n: gn!reader, reader is implied to be bi/pan

join my taglist!

“Y/n!” Josie called as she practically ran across the quad to reach you, PJ following behind her.

Josie looked ecstatic, which could only mean one thing. She had set you up on yet another blind date. At first you thought it was sweet that your friends had wanted you to get with someone, especially after your continuous complaints about being single, but now you were just tired of it. None of the dates were successful, and after last week's one with that air-headed jock, you didn’t want any part of PJ and Josie’s “matchmaking skills”.

You forced a smile as Josie and PJ reached you, trying not to show how fed up you were with all of this. “Hey guys,” you said, acting as if you didn’t already know what they were up to.

Josie sat down beside you on the bench, trying to catch her breath from having run over to you. “So, do we have news for you!” Josie finally said, grinning excitedly.

Josie opened her mouth to continue speaking, only to be immediately cut off by PJ. “Josie got you another date. And hopefully this one’ll actually work out so you’ll finally stop bitching about being single.”

“You do that too, y’know,” you shot back, irked by PJ’s abrasive personality.

She just grinned in response. “Yeah, but it’s not annoying when I do it.”

“Anyways…” Josie cut in, trying to get the conversation back on topic. “You have a date tonight at 8pm. Her name is Lacy, she’s a science major, and I showed her your picture and she thinks you’re cute.”

“No thanks,” you huffed, not even trying to disguise your disinterest.

Josie and PJ looked baffled by your response, not understanding why you would shut this down.

“No thanks?” PJ asked, scoffing as she shoved your shoulder. “Is this about that last date we sent you on? I swear, I didn’t know he was so… dull. That one’s on Josie. But you need to go, Lacy’s interested and you need to not be single any more.”

“Yeah, I really should’ve known better than to set you up with a guy named Chad. But Lacy’s really great, I think you’d like her,” Josie said, sounding much less forceful than PJ.

You shook your head, dismissing both of their points. “I get it, and I’m sure Lacy’s nice, but I just can’t keep doing these blind date things. This is like the fifth one. And besides… I’m kinda interested in someone else.”

“Wait, seriously? So you’re telling me that we wasted all of that time trying to set you up with people, and you like someone else?!” PJ grumbled, annoyed at you despite having had little to no part in the actual setting you up with someone part of things.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you try to get with them,” Josie said, a bit disappointed about things, but not nearly as upset as PJ.

You sighed, looking at the ground as you fiddled with your necklace. “Because, it’s never gonna happen. She’d never be interested in me. And I really do appreciate you guys trying to set me up with someone, but I just want Hazel.”

Unbeknownst to the three of you, Hazel was heading over to you guys, completely unaware of the topic of discussion, which just so happened to transition to her. But as she walked over, she did manage to catch the last thing you said. Her eyes widened and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Hazel would be lying if she said she didn’t have a major crush on you. One that she’s been harboring since high school. And to hear you say that you liked her back… that was just about the best thing that ever could’ve happened to her.

“Oh… Hazel! Hey…” PJ said awkwardly, finally noticing the girl’s presence.

You immediately tensed up and felt your face grow hot. Your mind raced in panic, hoping and praying that Hazel didn’t just hear what you had said.

“Hey guys! Whatcha talking about?” Hazel asked, sitting down on the other side of the bench, sandwiching you between her and Josie.

“Science homework!” “Clothes!” Josie and PJ blurted out at the same time.

You felt yourself growing increasingly nervous, especially with Hazel sitting so close to you, and you became desperate for an out. So you took what Josie said and ran with it.

“Speaking of science homework, I better get going. I have a paper I have to finish. Bye!” you rambled, hurriedly grabbing your things before bolting off in the direction of your dorm room, leaving your friends behind.

“Well that was weird…” Hazel said.

PJ shrugged, “You know y/n. They’re always like that. Really weird.”

“Anyways, while we’re talking about y/n, I need your guys’ help with something…”

~

You grumbled as you trudged over to your door, the incessant knocking driving you mad. You threw open the door, ready to rip whoever was on the other side a new one, when you came face to face with Josie, who had that same ecstatic look on her face that always appeared when she had secured you another date.

“No! I’m not going on another blind date! I’m sure Lacy’s great, but I told you that-”

“It’s not with Lacy,” Josie said, cutting you off.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I thought you were setting me up with Lacy tonight?”

Josie waved her hands dismissively, “Yeah, I was. But… now it’s with someone else. Just trust me, okay?”

“I already told you-”

“I know. But please, just this last one. And then I’ll never bring it up again. I promise.”

You contemplated this for a moment. On one hand, you really didn’t want to go on another blind date. But on the other hand, you really did want Josie and PJ to stop bothering you with all of this. What was the harm of spending one more night on a horrible date to finally get Josie and PJ to leave this alone?

You sighed, giving in. “Alright, fine. But this is the last one.”

“Great!” Josie said, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you out of your room.

“Josie, what are you doing?”

“Taking you to your date.”

“What?! Now?! I look horrible! Don’t you at least want me to attempt to have a successful date?”

“It’s fine! And besides, you look great! You always do. So stop complaining, and have fun!” she replied, pushing you towards an open door before you could even process whose room it was.

“Wait-” you said, turning around to talk to Josie, only to have the door slammed shut, leaving you alone in some rando’s dorm room.

“Great,” you mumbled under your breath, turning around to see who you were stuck with for the next hour or so, only to see Hazel standing there, smiling awkwardly.

“Hi…” she said, taking a step towards you.

“Hazel? You’re who Josie set me up with?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But only because I asked her to. I… I kinda overheard you in the quad today.”

You felt your stomach sink at her words. “...You did?”

“Mhm. And I was going to say something to you, but I wasn’t like entirely sure that it was me you were talking about cause I don’t know how many other Hazels are here. So I asked PJ and Josie to help me because I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

You smiled at her words, feeling a tiny bit less nervous. “So I guess it’s safe to assume that you like me too?”

Hazel laughed softly as she nodded again. “Yep. I’ve actually liked you since high school…”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Is that bad…?”

You quickly shook your head, finally walking over to her. “No! It’s just… I’ve liked you since high school too. God, we’re such idiots.”

Hazel smiled. “We really are.”

“So… what did you have planned for our date?”

“I thought we could maybe watch a movie? I asked Josie what your favorite one was. If that’s okay with you…?”

You nodded excitedly, sitting down on Hazel’s bed, Hazel quickly following suit. “Definitely, but only if we watch your favorite movie too.”

Hazel smiled, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I’d love that.”

tags: @hazelvrr @ohnomywenis

[rhinestonz]

☆ CLEAN IT UP ☆

The way your ass moved when he fucked you like this never ceased to amaze Geto. The way he wanted to set up camera after camera just to see your curves from every angle irked him. The urge was too strong , he just had to see you. Had to see how your tits bounced , how your mouth hung open , how your ass rippled as he hit you from behind. “ Fuck baby , I’m so sorry “ he cursed out , sultry voice soothing your ears. “Fuck you Geto ~” you choked out , “ if you think some dick is going to make up for this your so full of yourself” you said confidently. “Baby …” Geto started , furrowing his brows in faux concern “… is that why your arms are giving out ?”

Suguru Geto x thick!reader. Reader is poc. Doggy style. Pussy eating. Missionary. Eye contact. Sweet talk. Suguru is sweet.

☆ Geto was almost always away , he’d met you abroad on a mission actually. It was like lust at first sight rather than love. His eyes immediately scanning your figure, curvy as ever. Boobs full in your dress shirt and hips begging to be freed from the confines of your pencil skirt. Not to mention your ass , that grazed against his cock so many times during that mission that it ended with you full of his cock as he begged you to come home with him. So here you were , in your shared home , cleaning up the blood that trailed in with your boyfriend. Wincing away when he tried to kiss you. He took notice of your tired expression. “ baby what’s wrong ?” He inquired, pulling his hair tie out, letting his locs free. You simply grumbled , looking down at the ground , mopping furiously. He quickly got the hint , “ Oh baby I’m so sorry, the mission was hard” he pleaded, grabbing your hands , kissing the light of your palms. You still looked away from him , your bottom lip jutted out. “ The mission is always hard isn’t it ?” You sassed. 

And that’s why you were in this position now. Ass jiggling lewdly with every slap of Suguru’s hips. You swear you loved this so much. You told him that this wouldn’t make up but damn… you might just forgive him. His cock being hugged by your walls. His thrusts, fast but nestling deep inside you. Fat tip kissing your cervix. His huffing and small low grunts. This was bliss. Bliss , all you could feel as you creamed on his cock. White liquid, dripping slow down below you like honey. Your arms flickered as your chest heaved up and down. Your boobs moving with every breath. You don’t know what persuaded you to think he was done, this was Geto after all. 

“Cmon baby , gotta make it up dont I ?” He teased, hands digging into the fat of your hips as he turned you around. Your tits jumping , sloshing around in a circle before resting. Only to start to bounce again as Geto’s cock fucked into you. Your face burned, you couldn’t handle the way his dark eyes stared into yours. Studying your face , the way it contorted in pleasure. His large hand pushing down on your stomach , trying to feel himself under the fat of your tummy. “ There I am baby , can you feel me ?” He asked , lips curling into a smirk. “ Sorry dumb question , I’m all you can feel right ?” He slurred, making your face burn even more as those words broke the dam inside you. You felt your liquids gushing down his length. “ fucckkk Geto '' you whimpered out, feeling your prior confidence melt under his gaze. Your hands covering your face with urgency. And he took that personally ( 😒). Cock sliding out of you as his hand came to scoop up your wrist like nothing. Prying your hands away from your face , watching tears form as your eyes met his again. 

“ Look at me baby “ he coaxed, face lowering towards your cunt as his tongue swirled around the pink flesh. His eyes never left yours. You shut your eyes closed, biting your lip from the numb ache of overstimulation. You felt a slap on your thigh that he had pried open as a warning to look at him. Thighs pried open and wrist held behind your back. Your one free leg trying to push him away desperately. He detached himself from you just for a moment, looking up at you. “ Baby , let me clean you up , isn’t that why you're mad ? Cuz I’m messy ? Let me clean the mess' ' he said , smashing his lips back down to your core , lapping up all the juices until you were as pristine as before. Letting go of your wrist , watching your body fall back, chest still heaving up and down. “ Does that make up for it baby ~?” Suguru coed as he climbed next to you , hands lacing around your waist. You managed to roll your eyes `` sure “ you huffed out, lacing your arms around him too , placing a small kiss to his forehead. 

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. spending a week taking care of fushiguro... how bad could that be?

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing wc. 5.2k author’s note. in this story, we use first names in text when reader feels emotionally connected to the person xoxo and that's on stylistics

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

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CHAPTER 10: fushiguro megumi's week-long suspension

“i can’t believe it has come to this…” you utter, squint, and try seeing past the unrelenting glare of the july sun. gojo, always nearby, kicks a pebble, looking much more like an elementary kid rather than the one you are going to pick up.

moody, blushing, shoulders slouched and head hung; he says nothing because he tried saying something five minutes ago when you repeated yourself, but a sharp look and a displeased pinch of your lips made him promptly shut up. where was this deference when he was making your life a living hell while you begged him to leave you alone? at this point, you might tell him to jump and he’d land on pluto, if only you weren’t glaring at him anymore.

you shake your head and tut, “absolutely unbelievable.”

“oh god, please, spare me,” he grumbles, shoving a hand out of his pocket only to offer it to you.

you examine it. unappealing, “sweaty.”

the way he instantly scowls at you could be adorable, if you weren’t so irked. your bingo list for the summer, or ever, really, didn’t include attending a parent-teacher conference about an unruly seven year old that’s not even yours. fushiguro megumi keeps breaking toys and beating up his classmates – detention, teacher’s notes (which gojo did not read), extra homework, and a one on one with the parent (which gojo did not attend) did not work. a public trial is all that’s left, and even this would have slipped through gojo’s fingers. the notice arrived a week ago, but gojo neglected to check his email, and he missed the whole of 5 calls before yaga-sensei was informed of his outstanding failure as fushiguro’s legal guardian.

you shake your head again, almost closing your eyes – it’s too bright and too hot, and you think you hear the sidewalk sizzling, and maybe this is one of those days you shouldn’t be outside at all, “still can’t believe it…”

you wouldn’t be doing your duty as a concerned citizen if you weren’t even attempting to guilt-trip him into oblivion. you had plans today anyway, namely melting into your mattress or heaving by the conditioner, but he has ruined them all by asking you to come along. why didn’t you just say no? maybe because he looked especially miserable.

maybe because…

*

"here, give me that," your fingers curl over his tie, straightening the knot and smoothing it out. the inside of fushiguro’s school is thankfully cool, "is this really necessary though?"

"how do i look?"

"well...good?" your answer doesn't satisfy him much because he reaches for his hair and runs a hand, as if that will do him any favors. it doesn't. you wince and adjust the strands.

"like a respectable adult?" he is still wearing his shades, a necessary evil in the afternoon sun, even within these pale walls.

"that's a stretch."

he frowns, "not helping. the hell, i dressed nicely and everything,"

"not sure how a tie and an untucked shirt is 'nice' exactly, but okay,"

"you are so bossy," gojo has a small, pitiable expression on his face, and he's got it bad. he'd better; there's a ton of disgruntled parents lining the corridor of the conference room, and though this doesn't involve you in the least, they stare a little too hard as if you're the problem. you find you can't meet anyone's gaze directly.

"anyway," you squeeze his forearm, which feels nice – soft, his muscles yielding under the fabric – "keep it together,"

he doesn't, really, "this blows.”

"will you keep it together?"

"you're going in with me," his knuckles rap a rapid, anxious beat over his knee. he is seated and not happy, and you can't help noticing how big he is compared to the other men milling in the room, but most of all, how stupid and incompetent. it makes your heart patter in your chest.

"didn't agree to that. why do i have to?"

"because," he glares, "i'll tell them you're the mom."

he's lost it. your arms cross and your brow flattens. you take a few seconds to regard him before giving your answer.

"satoru, don’t they know you're, like, a step-dad?"

"i'm the dad that stepped up."

"seriously?"

"technicality."

"you pay the utility bills," you whisper back, annoyed.

"i'll tell them it's your biological child if you don't go in with me," he threatens.

the tips of his ears have turned a telltale pink, and even he notices, ducking his head and leaning further against the wall. when his leg won't stop bobbing, and he keeps the nervous tapping going, your heart sinks, "satoru," he really has you hook, line, and sinker, because you falter faced with his obvious distress. you didn't expect him to be this nervous, since he's always so carefree, "you..." he looks so very uncomfortable and unhappy in his white button up, which is a bit crumped, mind you, "oh, what the hell. fine."

"thank god."

the faculty makes an appearance, but not one person recognizes him. a brief discussion and introductions later, the room is emptied save the offended parents, the teacher, you, and gojo.

adults can be scary, but your job involves cursed spirits, and those are much scarier than a disgruntled salaryman will ever be.

what is more terrifying than a cursed spirit or a perturbed father trying to lynch gojo with his glare is a scorned mother. you try to not shrink into yourself as she points an accusing finger, as if you've committed the crime alongside fushiguro, "explain yourselves! what kind of parenting is this!?"

if you were sweating before, well, now you're really sweating. you and gojo share a quick, worried glance before the faculty intervenes to give an account of fushiguro. she must have some kind of hearing impairment because she yells, "young parents these days, treating their children so dismissively!"

it would be highly unadvisable and probably a very bad idea to mention the circumstances by which gojo is legally fushiguro's ward, or the fact that he's neither your biological son nor your son at all, and luckily, gojo is smart enough not to disclose any of that. no, what he says is so much worse, "i can assure you that we provide all the attention and care in the world for our son!"

it takes your mind a second to fully comprehend that, yes, he has, in fact, said 'we' and 'son' in the same sentence, and then his hand comes to clutch and yank you painfully over so that you're sitting half on the edge of his chair, "tell her!"

and the room falls deadly quiet for a few moments, which you use wisely to consider: first, kicking gojo right where it counts, and second, bolting for the nearest exit.

the silence is stifling, "err... yes, we take care of him."

"are you even out of college?!" the woman is flaring red with anger.

this isn't exactly your proudest moment, or his, and you can feel your legs shake, and how is it possible that gojo's arm, slung around your waist, is steady and strong, "we're not, but we're, we’re doing the best we can."

when the hell did you become so willing to dive into danger for a man? you'd never met such a troublemaker, and yet, here you are, listening to gojo tell the concerned parent in a voice far more confident than it had been just seconds ago, "you need not concern yourself, ma'am. we take care of megumi every single day and provide a nurturing, homey, and responsible environment for him. and we also love him very much. he and his sister. which we love. right, dear?"

and that’s your cue, “yes. my children. very well behaved.”

"he broke my son's nose!"

"did he deserve it?" gojo quips.

"no!"

he sighs. you eye the door longingly.

"i'll pay the medical bills."

*

the heat's less severe when you leave. a suspension.

with fushiguro safe and collected from his classes, the three of you stroll back to jujutsu technical. gojo lets him lead and you lag, half embarrassed, a third disinterested, and two thirds disheartened that you're now seriously involved with someone like gojo satoru, that this is your life. god, that whole experience was so bad, and his word vomit was the cherry on the shittiest cake you've had in a long time.

you are still, quite frankly, mortified. you know that gojo was talking out of his ass because explaining the real situation would actually make it look even worse than a case of young and stupid parents, but it somehow unnerved you greatly.

this is none of your concern. or it shouldn't be, at the very least. but it's making you consider the distant future and wrangle with the question of – do you want to get married? do you want to have children? such a line of thinking is unacceptable for many reasons, namely that you don't, and you're young, and you'd rather not die with any false hopes in place, because it's likely you'll never reach past your mid-20s and be with someone you actually would want to start a family with.

the city is hazy and humid, the people around appear sluggish. a vendor sells a bunch of sweet watermelons by the street. gojo stops to buy some slices for the three of you, and fushiguro accepts his reluctantly.

then, he marches onward, gloomy as always.

"megumiiiin," and gojo is right on his tail, wiggling his fingers in what's supposed to be an invitation, "let's hold hands."

"no."

"come on, i got you a week-long vacation," he insists.

"it's a suspension!" you hiss, chewing.

gojo glances back. shrugs, "eh."

fushiguro drags his feet, his chin tucked into the front of his uniform's collar, black bangs shifting messily and sticking over his eyes, "m'not apologizing."

"don't, you got good aim," gojo says wisely.

fushiguro offers gojo nothing else to say. the awkward and mortifying experience is, for him, nonexistent. he doesn't know what happened behind those doors, and he shouldn't to preserve his innocence.

for the remainder of the walk, he trudges forward without uttering another word, or without once turning back. the way he's sulking and putting distance between you, however, makes the unpleasant feeling linger a bit longer than it should, though there's really nothing you can do.

once he's already making his way to his temporary lodging, you call out, "ne, megumi," and his footsteps cease immediately. he turns about and stares expectantly, "do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"...no."

gojo watches you with sharp interest as you try not to bend under the pressure of both of their gazes, "well," you try, sounding a bit shy, "in that case, would you like to go shopping with me? i could use the company."

silence. the awkwardness from the earlier meeting hangs heavy, until fushiguro seems to recover and crosses his arms, mouth set a little firmly, "i have to finish my homework."

what a horrible excuse.

"we could visit the arcade and get slushies," you say, feeling a bit more confident since he seems to be cracking.

he narrows his eyes, considering his options. then, with a very pronounced scowl, "is he going?"

gojo perks, having been slouching listlessly with a grimace, "oh! me? sure, i'll be there," he even beams, the prick, while fushiguro gives him a deadpan stare.

"oh, no no," you try to rectify quickly, "satoru isn't going," and you jab your elbow into his side, sunny smile and all, "you're busy tomorrow, remember?"

gojo frowns. then he pouts. then, he looks annoyed. but finally, he looks away and says, "yeah, right. i am. totally forgot. so busy."

"figured," fushiguro hums, shrugs a little and says, "sure."

"awesome," you grin, feeling somehow very lucky, "it's a date!"

"not a date!" gojo declares.

fushiguro stomps through the door, his entire demeanor shifting entirely from apathetic to downright irritated, muttering, "you two are weird."

and then he's gone. the door creaks shut behind his small frame.

"it's a date?" gojo parrots, giving you a look.

"oh, don't be mad. it's just fun teasing him," you smile a little sheepishly, tugging him along to the direction of your dorm room.

he matches your pace, steps becoming slower. his arm is warm around your back.

*

“you don’t offer to hang out often,” coming from fushiguro, it sounds less of an observation and more like a thinly veiled accusation. you give pause.

true to your word, you have taken him to get slushies and some light shopping after a stop at the aquarium, which he enjoyed the most because it was quiet and the room felt never-ending.

for a kid, fushiguro is too perceptive, too grumpy, too. you hadn't expected that your presence could be missed, or even desired, since it was so rare to see him when he wasn’t on college grounds. with his sister still at summer camp, he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay. the two of them living alone with semi-regular visits from gojo is already wildly weird and unsafe, and leaving him by himself in the apartment was out of the question.

maybe you should have invited him earlier. he must be so lonely.

"mm. s'always busy with jujutsu studies," you tell him a bit shamefully.

a tic twitches underneath his eye. he finishes his cherry-red drink in two long gulps before taking you up the escalator to his favorite candy store.

you hold his palm. he grips tight but releases hastily as though embarrassed the second the mom and pops duo in their late fifties make a aaaw sound at you two. you almost throw your electric blue slushie at them – the workup to this very moment had been nothing short of arduous. the old man and woman look absolutely infatuated.

you will have to try to sneakily hold his hand again, under the pretenses of safety or whatever, even if you’re fairly certain fushiguro would beat up a kidnapper if it ever came down to it.

he dives straight for the large jar that has the 'bullet gums' printed on the container. he holds it up, and somehow, he's more of a little kid than the angry gremlin he usually is in gojo's presence. you have to battle with yourself to not fish out your phone and snap a million pictures.

"so cute..." you mutter under your breath.

you don't think it reaches his ears until his forehead wrinkles into an offended scowl, but he doesn't say anything as he goes on picking and tossing the good ones in his basket.

"how much money do you have?" fushiguro looks at your purse suspiciously.

you’re a bit affronted – maybe he and gojo do have a lot more in common than anyone would suspect, because this child has just called you poor.

"ehh, don't worry,” maybe you should be worried for the future generation and their manners, “satoru gave me his card, so you can buy anything you want.”

fushiguro scowls. he sets down the bulging bag on the floor beside him, and looks away from you, "...i don't want anything."

you blink and peer at the selection of items. it will likely be a hefty sum, but nothing too egregious. fushiguro picked his candy with care, and you note that it’s mostly sour things.

“but it looks tasty,” you say, and you mean it, even if you prefer sugar on sugar atop liquid sugar.

“no.”

you ponder for a second what might have made him so upset so suddenly. you hum. time for some mathematics. fushiguro hates gojo, gojo is sponsoring this outing, which, maybe, somehow equals fushiguro wanting to spend time with gojo, hence, fushiguro is grumpy and probably wants to go home.

you feel like 2 + 2 = 5 since you’ve uncovered one more piece of information.

well, this is a problem. you raise an eyebrow. how does one deal with an upset seven year old? you think you’ve been doing good so far, but it’s only because fushiguro was in a good mood and somehow tolerable of your presence. suppose you'll have to play by his rules. suppose you can do that, or at the very least try.

slowly, you take the bag. then, you extend your hand to him, "we could try maxing out satoru's card – doesn't that sound fun?"

he furrows his brow and looks like he's having a bad idea. slowly, hesitantly, his tiny palm comes to land in yours, fingers slotting, and then you are both making your way to the counter.

the next spot you visit is a bookstore.

"do you like reading?" you inquire curiously.

a shrug. you assume he's shy, so you let it pass, instead picking up a few manga. they seem popular these days, and maybe you’ll actually have some free time to read it before missions swamp you and you’re off to battle curses in the muggy heat.

meanwhile, fushiguro chooses a coloring book and a plethora of new, shiny markers.

"looks cool," you say.

"yeah," he agrees, and he seems happy. you would really like to take a picture right about now, but you swipe gojo’s credit card instead. you and fushiguro share a pleased look.

when you visit the food court, it’s already buzzing.

"let's get something to eat," you suggest. he nods, "pizza?"

"yes please."

you notice him getting a bit anxious when a large group of people move in front of the two of you, and without a word, your push him closer to your body as you shield him. he stiffens, but doesn't ask you to let go, and leans his head into the comfort.

that's sweet. too sweet. you resist the urge to melt down. god, this kid is growing on you like fungus. you can't believe how happy you are to be spending time with him. that this is actually happening, and you're not imagining any of it. you almost regret not doing this sooner. you feel stupid for being scared and skipping out before.

you might even, and this you find startling, put yourself through the whole ordeal with the parent-teacher conference again. only this time, you might be the one screaming and pointing fingers. what a cute kid.

when the person in front of you finally vacates a table, you squeeze into the tight space, but not before flagging down the server.

"is it just me, or does today feel like a celebration?" you ask him in the attempt of stirring conversation.

his bored eyes wander around, perhaps not finding the occasion anything special or remarkable. but then, with a nod, he says, "i guess."

that's as much enthusiasm as he's going to allow himself to show, and that is completely fine, you decide. you don't need him to pretend for the sake of pleasing you. you're just happy to be here, and you can't wait to tell gojo all about this in great detail. he'll be so jealous.

*

yes, gojo can get any michelin star meal delivered within the hour if he’s persistent and snooty enough. he might also be able to import something from korea in the timeframe it took you to decide on what to eat if fushiguro so much as implored he wanted anything. the real problem is that fushiguro does not want to eat anything touched by gojo’s hands or credit card – the outing being the only exception, as that was done with malicious intent to scam gojo out of more money than was necessary – and you think it’s not healthy to have a growing kid survive on the instant noodles and snacks you purchase from the convenience store.

the cafeteria food is alright, but it, too, lacks the nutrition needed for strong bones and a healthy immune system. you also were unable to find the allergens or a basic ingredients list on the food served there, and the cooks you inquired were suspiciously tight-lipped about it, which only left you pondering about what exactly you have been eating for the past three years.

that, and fushiguro seems to be missing his sister lately, who, apparently, made him food, or made food alongside him, but your newfound big sister instincts send you into a frenzy even imagining this child next to a sharp knife. he is way too independent. when you think of yourself being his age, you think your childhood was much more carefree.

a homecooked meal it is. only problem is that you’re not a great cook, and whatever you made you could only serve yourself because it was just mediocre enough to teeter on the scale of enjoyment, if it could be called that.

still, you were wrestled into an apron by a pest named gojo satoru, who dons a matching one but avoids the pots and pans and stays by the television with fushiguro, as he was made aware that whatever he touches will be promptly thrown into the trash.

you chop, and stir, and haughtily avoid the counter where you were propped up to be devoured by the same man throwing his head back and cackling at some painfully unfunny late night tv show. you catch your reflection in the sharp blade of a knife and pause for a moment.

so this is my life now, huh?

as expected, neither the presentation nor the actual food is up to fushiguro’s standards. it’s evident by the way he skeptically pokes the mess on his plate with his fork. the noodles are too crisp, the broccoli – burned. you might’ve gone overboard with the seasoning, and yes, you can wrangle a curse into submission, but you cannot prepare a decent dinner.

you wait for the verdict with your hands curled into your apron, like some maid about to be scolded by a temperamental prince.

when a minute passes of just examination, you thread carefully, “ne,” fix your best smile, tilt your head to the side even – this is beyond humiliating. nothing gojo has put you through could ever amount to the small curl of queasiness on fushiguro’s mouth, “how about we order food in?”

“i’ll pay!” comes gojo’s enthusiastic agreement. he even waves the remote around, like it’ll summon something delicious on the coffee table just like that.

fushiguro, faced with this unprecedented cheerfulness, stabs his dinner and eats without a word spared.

you stare. no, this can’t be good, you might give him food poisoning, “no, really. let’s order something edible.”

fushiguro chews thoughtfully before he answers, “…it’s edible.”

“liar!” gojo accuses.

“shut up!”

well. it doesn't go too badly, and after a while, gojo puts on a nature documentary as a peace offering, while you wash the dirty dishes and keep sending worried glances to a now placid fushiguro who dutifully finished his meal and has moved on to polishing the bowl clean.

and you can't help the sudden onslaught of fondness that fills you up as the warm water from the sink hits your fingers. this is oddly nice and comforting. it reminds you of the dinners you had back home, only they never were this late and you always pouted when having to wash your plate and utensils.

"eh," you almost drop the soapy spatula; your head ticks to the entrance of the dorm kitchen, and you see shoko leaning by the doorway before the smell of cigarette smoke reaches you. her eyes jump from your apron, to gojo sprawled on the couch, to fushiguro neatly folding a small towel, "feeling a bit left out. what's going on here?"

oh no. you feel your face heat all the way to your forehead. how incriminating, how do you even begin to explain this strange and off-putting development of your relationship with gojo?

maybe you should have told her as soon as it happened, but you didn't know how.

you wanted to, though. each time you meet shoko’s gaze, you had the overwhelming urge to come clean. you can’t phantom how criminals can lie to the police with a straight face, because you’re having significant trouble. what’s worse, it always felt like shoko knew anyway, somehow; that that information breached the kawakami-gojo bubble and bled into the common knowledge pool.

shoko always seemed so suspicious, and in this case, for good reason. now, suppose you don't have to explain anything at all.

gojo points at you with this thumb, "she can't cook for shit, you know that?"

"oh, yes," shoko hums, pleased, "know it too well. i won't need to use reverse on you, will i?"

"nah," he drawls, "think i'd eat that drivel? i'm not suicidal."

"hey!" you bristle.

fushiguro frowns and glares at the tuff of white hair peaking over the back of the couch, "it wasn't so bad."

and your anger vanishes, just like that. your honor has been defended by an seven year old, and now it's just a matter of having to bear with shoko's probing look and the telltale curve in her smile.

"ah, well, if megumi vouches for you, then maybe you've improved," shoko says sagely.

gojo snorts in clear disagreement. fushiguro scrunches his brow and purses his lips.

*

there’s definitely something somewhere written about proper bedtime, but being with fushiguro has made you sentimental about your childhood, and you recalled sneaking around at night to watch tv and having too much energy to sleep, even when you were tucked into your favorite blanket with your favorite stuffed toy under your armpit and read your favorite story.

so you take him to a pastry shop at near closing time, and smile particularly sweetly at the disgruntled cashier who just finished cleaning up. you feel a bit bad, but alas – a tasty treat is a tasty treat, and what is more, everything’s on discount, so you spend a generous amount to make sure fushiguro and you have enough to snack on all the way back to jujutsu tech and then some.

you also got some for gojo, despite how brattish he can be. the only reason he didn’t follow you here is because fushiguro had forbidden it, but even now, you’re not sure if you aren’t being monitored.

fushiguro bites into his colorful fish cookie and chews. the sky is already dimming, but there’s still plenty of people out and about, enjoying their summer. he keeps close, but doesn’t reach for your hand. you hadn’t been able to achieve your initial victory at the start of the week, but maybe you still have some time.

“you’re leaving for a mission,” he says after a pleasant silence, blunt as always. you try remembering if you were this honest when you were his age. certainly, you must’ve been more tactful. when your gaze flits to fushiguro, you find him disgruntled, an expression reminiscent of gojo when he doesn’t get something he wants.

it’s starkly similar, actually. a father that stepped up…

“it’s only for a few days,” you tell him, keeping your voice light in an effort to appease him, “i’ll be back before you know it. with souvenirs, too.”

a tic creases his brow as he seems to give the offer some serious contemplation. a couple of moments pass before, with a sharp huff, he mumbles a sour, "do as you like."

you manage a patient, "look forward to the present, hm?"

he is very stubborn and says nothing but chews with a little more fervor.

"maybe you want something specific? or would surprise be best?"

you hear a short sound of exasperation at that, and a shake of his head.

"no... you can choose, nee-san."

you nearly collapse. fushiguro, no, megumi, megumi hasn't ever been so malleable before; the things this boy has been doing to your heart must be against the law. it’s too precious, and so sweet it makes the glazed cinnamon bun grasped so tightly between your fingers taste bland. how could you ever recover? is it even worth bringing it up? just how much does megumi truly care about you to call you something so tender?

you have to swallow a disgusting ball of coo for the sake of everyone, namely megumi, who seems especially irritated, “…how about a plushy? or a phone accessory? satoru said he bought you a nice new model.”

your efforts do not go unnoticed. there is a gleam in his eyes, and his cheeks flush in pleasure.

"can..." his tone lowers, quiet, almost timid, "can i choose when you're back?"

there isn't a bone in your body strong enough to decline that.

"of course," you smile, "tell me when i should come back and i will."

a pair of small fingers come to grip your sleeve, hesitantly, shyly.

"the sooner, the better," he mumbles, glaring at the sidewalk, "so... be quick."

*

“’s stupid,” gojo grumbles, making himself comfortable on your bed instead of helping you pack your suitcase, “why you needa go, anyway?”

not him, too. christ, why are they ganging up on you?

you sigh, folding a sweater. it’ll likely be too warm to wear it, but you’ll take it just in case, “cuz yaga-sensei told me to?”

“coulda said no,” he answers stubbornly. you pause to stare him down.

if not for the sunglasses, he would be giving you the same look as megumi; a bit less angry, more passive aggressive.

he presses, the smirk fading, a sharp edge to his voice, not quite biting, not yet, "wanna stay and fuck a bit instead?"

god. the word makes your spine crawl with something familiar, or rather, a mix of emotions that is indescribable and difficult to disentangle; something close to exasperated fondness, perhaps.

but you shake your head, the weak protests die out on your lips, and he rolls over, sated, like a cat that had gotten its cream, "...you sure?"

"stop trying to seduce me," you snort, ignoring the lingering glance directed at your back.

"then you'd really miss your train."

"satoru."

"right, right..."

"go be annoying somewhere else."

a heavy exhale. you don't dare to turn because you hear the mattress creak and his footsteps drawing nearer.

the warmth envelops you easily, his hold is lazy, his mouth is by your ear, hot breath sending a shiver up your nape, "mean. and here i am, all ready and eager."

but his fingers linger on the waist of your shorts, just above the material. it's a small touch. noninvasive. you can feel him holding himself back.

"...'s gonna be too cold," gojo continues, quietly. he isn't helping, his nose nudging your hair, a soft kiss pressed below your earlobe, "in bed without you. who will i cuddle now?"

oh, damn him and the things he does and says. and that honey sweet voice of his, teasing you.

but you won't fall for his tricks, "well, it won't be forever. you won't even notice i'm gone."

and he laughs. like he's telling himself not to show his irritation at you dismissing him so easily, "always notice," he mumbles, or maybe he doesn't, because he kisses your cheek one more time before he disentangles and plops down onto the mattress again, "anyway, megumi wants to escort you to the train station, so expect an entourage."

you ponder who would be more clingy: gojo or megumi.

*

it's gojo.

tags (couldn’t tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l ,

[knavves]

˖ ࣪ ꒷ KNOW SHE'S SUCH A PRIMA DONNA ꒦

synopsis : you hate kaiser's guts but he loves to rearrange yours.

wc: 1.1k ノ cw + tw: nsfw (18+). fem reader. kaiser is rlly mean and kinda possessive. hate fucking. cursing. slapping. spit kink. degrading. choking. unprotected sex. use of petnames.

"why don't you tell me how good i'm making you feel?" the figure looming over you from behind rasps, a shiver crawling up your spine feeling his warm breath tickle your shoulder. it feels good, so so good. he knows all the right places to touch you, he knows what makes you moan, what makes you come undone.

and you hate that. you hate michael kaiser.

it irks you. he's the one making you see stars. you're suddenly aware that the man who you swear up and down you despise is the one buried balls deep inside you right now, fucking you with the mutual feeling of hate.

you sink your face further into the sheets, drowning out the irritating thoughts. you turn your head to make sure he hears every syllable laced with venom, "shut the fuck up." to tell him how good you feel would only feed into his ego that's already many sizes too big, you'd rather die than fuel it any further. you gasp when he lands a sharp slap onto the flesh of your ass, a warning. a reminder that he's the one in charge.

his slender fingers take hold of your throat, a suffocating grip restricting your air ways. he yanks you from the pillows where you were attempting to tune out your moans, to take that satisfaction away from him. his thrusts, cruel and merely chasing his own pleasure, don't relent as he speaks directly into your ear, "keep running your mouth, slut. don't you want to cum? i'll fucking leave you here." you whimper, a pathetic one that you quickly regret letting out especially when you can practically feel the smug smirk gracing his face.

"open." he commands, hands leaving your neck to grip your jaw. you do, for once not wanting to push him any further. he lets spit pool in his mouth before pursing his lips, allowing a fat glob to land on your tongue that's lolled out just for him. "swallow it."

your eyes widen and you don't know why but you listen, obediently swallowing what he gave you. your head dips and hangs low in shame at the way you're clenching around his dick. "oh? you like that, when i treat you like a good for nothing whore?" fuck everything he says irritated you as much as it aroused you. you grimace and shake your head. no, you're not a whore, especially not for the likes of him.

you whine, feeling him slip from the confinements of your walls. but not for long as he flips you onto your back, shoving all of his length back into your dripping pussy in one go. slap. dead smack across your face, not too hard but definitely enough to leave a sting. your eyes water and you stare up at him baffled, with uncontrollable tears starting to gloss over your eyes. what was he so-

"don't fucking lie to me. i can feel the way you're squeezing around me. you're soaked and it's all for me, sweetheart." so arrogant but you're still dripping, tightening even harder around his girth that's stilled inside you at his words. your body betrays you but you still deny it, "whatever. i could have anyone i wanted."

"that's why you always come back to me, right?" your face screws together, who did he think he was? is what you planned on telling him but the words are ripped from your throat almost as quickly as they formed in your head, replaced with a guttural moan. he grinds his hips into yours, pressing his cock into your sweet spot. your glare softens as your mouth hangs open, whining right there and yes, completely forgetting about what you'd said earlier.

"i'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this." he spits, thinking about you with another person agitates him. no matter if you aren't even technically dating, you belong to him. yeah you piss him off just as much as he does to you but he can't lie, he'll always crawl back to you.

he situates one of your legs around his waist, angling himself to reach deeper inside you. you sling your arms around his neck, raking your nails into his back. he groans at the slight pain that comes with the angry red marks dancing across his skin. and you hope it hurts, fighting back for some dignity because right now, he has you shamelessly bucking your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

"feels good, yeah?" he mutters, hands digging bruises into the skin of your hips. you're close, you can feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. you have to bite your tongue. you want to swear at him, maybe even strangle him. he'll leave you high and dry and you know it, he's done it before after all.

"fuck off... y-you know it does, asshole." he settles with the fact it's the nicest you can be so he lets it slide, only humming in reply. your eyes sharpen, trying your best to show how much you hated him in them rather than vocalize it. "keep glaring at me like that, i'll cum." "y-you're disgusting." but you're not any better letting the man you loathe, michael kaiser, drill in and out of your cunt, greedily sucking him in for more.

you're breathless, each drag of his cock is followed by another sharp snap of his hips, efficiently knocking the air right from your lungs. that coil in your stomach is getting ready to snap, he knows it too. he takes one of his hands from your waist to use the pad of his thumb to smear your slick all over your messy clit. you're thrashing against the sheets, hands wandering your body, you were losing your mind. tweaking at your own hardened nipples and tightening your hand at the base of your neck, wishing, no pleading for him to replace his hand with yours.

he complies, groaning at the sight of your eyes rolling back into your skull at the way he squeezes your throat as the coil in your belly snaps with a gargled cry. he doesn't stop even with the white ring forming around him, the wet noises of his cock slamming in and out of your drooling pussy and the sounds of your skin colliding with one another fill your ears and do laps in your mind. you beg for him to slow down and spew a few curses at him, you were so sensitive and all he was doing pounding himself into your overstimulated cunt.

he swears under his breath, pulling away from you to jerk himself off, needily dragging his hand up and down his aching length before cumming all over your clit.

your body jumps in surprise when he slaps his tip onto your bud, smearing your arousal and his cum all over it. "fuck you, michael. m still sensitive-"

"i think you deserve a punishment for all that shit you were talking earlier. hm? sweetheart?"

© knavves : reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[house-of-lovin]

grouch

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: Wednesday barely found you tolerable. But, now as you were standing there, all dishevelled, sickly. She couldn't help but find you a bit endearing.

Warnings: you're a bit of a grouch when you're sick. swearing.

Note: just a regular sick fic

Word Count: 4.8k+

This is what death feels like.

You were aching, sweat dripping down your overly warm body; unsure if you were too cold or too hot for a blanket. There was a bug going around the school and it seems you were the latest patient of the virus. You figured you must’ve caught it from Enid when she got it earlier this week.

You should've told Enid to stay away from you with a ten-foot pole.

A groan leaves your lips when you remember the botany assignment you are meant to submit soon was left to be finished on your desk when you got too exhausted from working.

Mentally counting to three before heaving yourself up from your comfortable position and stepping on the hardwood floor; even with socks on you felt a shiver run up your spine.

Being sick sucks.

Just when you manage to sit down at your desk, a loud knock resounding through the room halts any further movements.

You drop your head in frustration, now having to lug yourself up once again to answer the door; internally cursing the person on the other side.

With slow strides and a rough yank to the door handle, you answer grumpily, “What?”

Wednesday Addams was one on the other side of the door, sporting that impassive stare that always manages to irk you. A slight uprise of her brow was the only crack in her deadpan expression as she ran her gaze up and down your figure; feeling slightly insecure under her watchful leer.

Sighing, you lean your weight against the door when she doesn’t answer. “What do you want, Addams?”

“What is wrong with you?” Was her response.

“I’m sick, can’t ‘cha tell?’ You remarked sarcastically, eyes blinking slowly.

“Now, hurry up and tell me what you want so I can be sick in peace..” You roll your eyes impatiently.

“Enid – your cousin, needs your past exam from 2nd-year potions to study for her own. She ask I come get it from you.” Wednesday replies with ease.

You are Enid’s cousin – older by two years. Although your paths don’t cross often, you were around enough because of your connection to Enid. At first, she thought you were going to be exactly like her roommate; all rainbows and sunshine, must run in the family, right?

Instead, you were snippy and quick-witted, never letting Wednesday get the last word. You acted indifferent to her threats, often throwing one back; it was infuriating not being feared.

Wednesday wanted to jab a knife through your jugular but alas, you are off limits. Enid would never forgive her. So she had to learn how to ‘get along’ with you – if that was even possible.

“Damn it. I knew she’d forget to grab it.” Shaking your head in annoyance before pushing your weight off the door to walk further into your room. Wednesday follows suit, letting the door close shut behind her as she surveys her surroundings.

This was her first time inside. Wednesday recalls tales from Enid about your cleanliness and need for order around you, but as she looks around it was anything but.

Clothes were thrown haphazardly on the floor and on the top of the armchair near your bed. She even excuses the overflowing trashcan of tissues and the mess on the floor that followed. Then the goth notes the scattered papers and opened books on your desk.

“Were you studying?” She asks; lips pulled into a tight line as she awaits your answer.

“Huh? Oh yeah… Got a botany assignment due in a couple of days. This semester is kicking my ass and this flu surely isn’t helping.” You chuckle hoarsely; distractedly looking for that exam she came here for.

“You are practically on death’s door.” Wednesday remarks, observing your weak slouching figure.

You are heaving with any sort of effort, moving in slow shuffles instead of your purposeful strides. Your voice got rougher and hoarser the more you talked; the congestion surely wasn’t helping. Even your eyes blinked much slower as if you were unable to focus on what’s in front of you. Wednesday wasn’t sure if she should step closer, afraid you’d suddenly faint on her.

“Gee… Thanks, Addams. You sure know what to say to charm a gal.” You roll your eyes with an exasperated sigh. No luck in the cabinet you just checked. “Where is that damn thing?”

Wednesday’s cheeks tinge red at your response. That was not what she meant to say. “I just mean… you are visibly ill. You should be resting.”

“I would love to do that too. But this scary-looking girl just had to knock on my door asking for something.” Glancing at her with a side-eye; teasing despite your dissolving energy – waving the paper you valiantly searched for.

How foolish of you to waste energy on a pointless taunt.

With an eye roll, Wednesday takes the paper from your extended hand. 

“Now, if you don’t mind.” You gesture to the door with a sarcastic smile, “I’d like to rot in peace.”

Wednesday makes no indication of leaving. On any given day you would have put up a fight, but no, not today. Not when you, woefully, were on death’s door and had an assignment calling your name.

With reluctance, you ignore the unmoving girl and sit down at your desk to continue your work and trusted Wednesday can find her own way out of your room. But before you can sit on the chair, a rough tug on your forearm has you pushed to your bed instead.

“Whoa… too fast.” You stumble, the quick movement making you feel queasy. 

“Lay down,” Wednesday says when she pushes you to sit on the bed.

“Dude, what the hell?” You sneer in an agitated tone, attempting to stand but she merely steps closer – holding a hand out, preventing you from doing so.

“Addams, I need to do my assignment.” Huffing as you stare into the warning glint in her dark orbs. She crosses her arms, unfazed.

“What you need to be doing is resting. Lay down, I will not be repeating myself again.”

A staredown ensues between you and the Addams. Wednesday unsure if you were truly foolish enough to try and disobey her. But eventually, you look away and sigh but not without complaint. 

“Who made you King of the World?” You muttered bitterly as you pulled the covers over your body, getting comfortable in the warm bed.

“Quit acting like a petulant child. You are literally shaking right now.” Wednesday scolds; her tone was harsh but her touches were anything but as she tucks you into bed, making you sure you were agreeable.

She moved around the room to gather any supplies you might need close and placed a cool wet towel on your warm forehead. Any hints of diffidence on Wednesday’s side about being in your space are gone as she nurses you. And, as you lay there, tucked under a pile of blankets, Wednesday finds herself about to tuck an astray strand of hair, but her touch halts. Too soft.

Wednesday scolds herself for thinking of acting on such an urge.

“Since when’d you care about me, Addams?”

“Never. But Enid cares about you, and I care about her – so by extension, I am obligated to help her loved ones.” She responds in a quick, even tone as if she rehearsed it before.

Humming, “Obligated huh?” She nods blankly.

“You make it an obligation to tuck people’s hair back too? You know when you’re out and about helping her loved ones.” Wednesday’s hand stalls in the air, not even realizing she subconsciously tucked your hair back anyway; her efforts of restraint were futile.

The goth stands quickly; pulling away as if she was burned by something hot. Ignoring your words, she replies, “Get some rest. If I find out that you got up to do some work, I will deliver you to death’s door myself.”

“How are you gonna manage that?” You question with a challenging tone, she merely raises a brow at the defiance. “Thing will check in hourly and report back on your status.”

She walks towards the door and opens it, “I am serious, Y/N.” Warning you once again, knowing of your stubborn tendencies and a strong aversion to being told what to do.

“I hear ya’, I hear ya’” You wave off with a nonchalant tone.

Wednesday inhales a slow grounding breath to stop herself from going back over to you; unsure if she wanted to strangle you or…or do something else! To shut you up! Instead, she grips the exam paper she came to your room for and shut the door behind her; walking away.

– – 

“Wednesday! How was it?” Enid asked excitedly, turning so fast in her spot when she opened the door – Wednesday would be shocked if she didn’t have whiplash at the moment. Thing sat next to the werewolf, tapping his finger on the bed repeatedly, signalling the girl to sit down.

“She is dreadfully ill.” Wednesday deadpanned, handing the paper to a grimacing Enid.

“Yikes, Y/N has never been pretty when sick. God, she’s also like, ten times more sarcastic and whiny too.” Enid furrows her brows as she recounts all the times you’ve been sick when growing up together.

Wednesday wanted to disagree. You were not…dreadful to look at. Actually, you looked quite decent standing there wearing your pyjamas. Wednesday felt… privileged …to see you in such a vulnerable state.

The bags under your dead stare and pale clammy skin were not... unattractive to someone like an Addams.

Even as you were fighting her about going back to study, you were kind of…adorable for thinking you can fight Wednesday back in your state – not even in your healthiest form could you win against her. As you lay there buried under the bed covers, you looked so fragile; it was quite alluring – Wednesday shuts that thought away. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and lets Enid ramble about the times you’ve been a horrible patient.

In the meantime, Wednesday orders Thing to check on you every hour to make sure you truly were resting like you said you would.

– – 

The next time Wednesday visited, it was only a few hours later. Thing was the one who opened the door this time, she stepped in seeing you sat up in bed with your books scattered on your lap, pen in hand – you were wearing glasses, she notes. Wednesday doesn’t know why her heart is palpitating at the sight of you in spectacles, they are a common utility for humans. But on you, it looked… slightly better.

“What are you doing?” She questions with furrowed brows once she got a grip.

“Addams!” You greet, “Doing my assignment, but in bed. So technically, not breaking your rules.” Beaming in mischief, you shrugged your shoulders.

“This is not what I meant and you know it.” Wednesday stomps closer, placing her bag of supplies for you – mostly from Enid, she would like to note – on your bed. "I distinctly remember saying what would happen if you were to leave this bed."

You sigh in defeat, “Look Addams, this is the most I’m willing to compromise. I wasn’t even sure you were serious about sending Thing in here to check on me until I got whacked for leaving for the bathroom.”

Wednesday smirks at the mental image.

“I’m not really sure why you care so much – it’s actually kinda freaking me out. But, I really need to finish this. So if you wanna deliver me to death's door yourself, you're gonna have to wait until this is finished.” You finish off with a huff, pointing to the books in your lap with pouting lips and Wednesday feels remnants of spiders crawling in her stomach.

“Fine…” She concedes very reluctantly, “But you are going to stay here as you do it.” 

Taking a seat on your bed, she says. “As am I.”

You study her wearily with a probing gaze, unsure why she was being so nice to you right now. Even her threats had lost a bit of their edge. It was unsettling but not unwelcome.

“Fine with me.” You say after a couple of seconds, breaking your surveying of Wednesday.

The goth nods, taking her supplies out of her bag, an assortment of snacks, drinks and a book she managed to slip in were among some of the other items. She would never outwardly say that it was one of her favourite books and that she would somewhat like to know what you thought of the plot – but just so she can tell you how her analysis of the book is better.

“Woah! Chocolate popcorn.” Roughly grabbing the packaged snack, staring at it with childlike glee. “This is, like, my favourite. They don’t sell these around here.”

Wednesday knows.

“How’d you get these?” You look up and Wednesday detests how she feels a physical stutter in her chest when you do; all wide-eyed, grinning – you look foolish being so galvanized over a menial item.

“Unimportant… and those are for after you get better, not during. Eating these now will only prolong your condition.” You pout disappointedly but obey nevertheless, putting the snack back down.

She sees your careful glances at the medicine in her hands. “Please don’t make me drink pills.”

You were in clear fear, shaking your head. Wednesday frowns at your genuine dislike for the medicine.

“What is wrong with it? Would you have preferred the liquid version?” She looks down confused at the items in her hand.

“I… can’t swallow pills.” You admit, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

Wednesday blinks, “Oh. Well… No worries, I have the liquid version in my room.” She dismisses but you audibly huff, crossing your arms in the process, confusing the Addams.

“I don’t like medicine okay? I don't take it, never have.” You admit with a puff and Wednesday takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“That is a childish reason.”

“No, it’s not! Lots of people don't like to take medicine when they’re sick.” You defend.

“Most of those people might not be as sick as you.” She reasons but you shrug unperturbed, slipping on your headphones. “You would prolong your illness simply because you don’t like medicine?” Still ignoring the goth’s clinched jaw and flared nostrils.

Realizing that you were going continue your childlike behaviour, Wednesday sighs, standing up to survey your room for the second time today – this time with more attention to detail.

Like the gaming controller thrown absentmindedly on your desk, the wilting plant on your bedside table, or the sweater thrown on the back of your chair. Wednesday walked further into the opposite corner of the room. A make-shift nook of carpet, blankets and pillows was on the floor – barricaded by two large bookshelves. Inside is spacious enough to be comfortable and move around; it had an inviting atmosphere and Wednesday finds herself walking closer to it.

She steps inside the reading sanctuary; the carpet was crumpled, blankets unmade, obvious signs of its frequent use. A hanging light bulb illuminated the small corner. Wednesday runs a tentative finger through the spine of some books, before landing on a cozy familiar – H.P. Lovecraft, she didn't expect you to be a fan. She pulls it out from the rest, and takes a seat on the carpet, keeping a watchful eye on you.

For a while, you two just existed in silence. Only remnants of dull pen scratching against paper, coughing and the timely flip of a page are the only sounds to be heard in the room – it was calming. You were unsure how much time had passed by the time you decided you had done enough work for the night – the familiar aching of a migraine creeping at the back of your skull.

You scanned the room, forgetting the Addams girl was still with you, having fallen trance in your own world – she was sitting in your reading corner. Her body is hidden behind the large bookshelf but you can see a glimpse of her knees tucked close to her chest as her chin rests on top, flipping through the pages as you continue to observe her. She looked kinda cute.

Wednesday was often reading during the times you were around her – unless she was hurling threats at you. Enid said she preferred it over talking to other people. What is often an evasion tactic when out in public, is instead enjoyed as she curls up reading one of your favourite books. Almost looking relaxed, you note.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

You snorted, closing your books, and throwing them to the side on the floor. Wednesday looks over disapprovingly at the thud. “I’m finished for the night, so you don’t have to worry about me sneaking off to do some work. I tap out.” You cross your arms in an ‘X’ motioning to emphasize.

“Good…” Wednesday answers, returning to her book.

You blink, unsure of what to do, “Um… what now?”

She thinks for a second before standing up, “It is time for medicine.” You groan, wincing in pain from the effort.

“Anything but that please.” You pout, hiding under the covers, hoping she spared you of this torture.

“I can tell your migraine is returning. You were wincing in pain for 15 minutes before you decided to stop studying.” That makes you halt, not realizing she was watching you so intensely.

“Don’t care.” You mumbled from under the covers. “Y/N…I know you’re in pain. Now.” She huffs impatiently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Your usual fight and resistant attitude was dwindling with every passing moment, you’d really love to tell Wednesday to kick it but you’re half scared and half exhausted. With a defeated exhale, you pull off the covers and sit up; taking the medicine packet from her open palm. When your fingertips touched, Wednesday had to tightly curl her fingers closed when she dropped them back to her side.

You begrudgingly swallow the pill.

With an exasperated gulp, you ask, “Satisfied?”

Even while she was helping you, you were acting like a whiny brat. Just like Enid’s warnings, she recalls.

“Has anyone told you that you become increasingly whinier when you are ill?” Wednesday says matter-of-factly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really bossy when you want something?” You retort with an upraise of a brow.

“Yes, actually. A few times.” Wednesday answers honestly. And you’re not even surprised, just laughing and shaking your head.

Tossing the medicine packets and other junk off your bed, you scoot off to the side patting the open spot. Wednesday looks at you blankly. “Come on, do I have to spell it out for ya? Sit beside me, Addams.”

The goth doesn’t respond, just getting up and sitting beside you; thighs and shoulders so close that Wednesday can feel the warmth radiating off your skin. Or maybe she’s just hyperaware of you and your movements.

You lean closer into her space, not quite touching, “Figure if you can ‘nurse’ me back to health, you can also sit through a couple of movies with me?” You asked in such a hopeful tone that Wednesday would never dare say no.

So, Wednesday nods, silently and you were excited – Thing who had taken a nap sprang to grab the remote and pass it to you – before then taking his leave for the evening.

– –

You two get through a couple of movies, some Wednesday liked more than she was willing to admit. You nudge her shoulder, “Told you How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days isn’t that bad, you just have to give it a chance.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes not wanting to admit defeat. “It was…interesting, they had both lied and humiliated each other for professional gain. It was cruel…I think it was tolerable.”

Knowing that was the best you were going to get from the goth, you beam back at her. You supposed you never thought of one of your favourite movies in that way before, but Wednesday is not without interesting opinions. 

You two decide to start another movie, this time Wednesday’s choice. Halfway through the movie, you found yourself burning up uncomfortably; no position was comfortable for you, you think all your fidgeting is annoying Wednesday. It wasn’t until the familiar churn in your stomach was felt that you made a break for the bathroom; legs all stumbling from being tangled in the covers.

You gagged and vomited out all of your dinner; only stopping when your stomach begged for reprieve. You closed the lid of the toilet, flushing it as your shoulders dropped. Suddenly you feel a hand rub comforting circles on your back and another holding your hair up. The touches were so comforting to your overheating body that you let out a groan at her cool skin.

“I would like to say that came out of nowhere, but you were moving around so much it was only a matter of time.”

You just groaned again, letting your head drop to the toilet cover; stomach still feeling weak and queasy. 

Wednesday sighs, her chest uncomfortably clenching at the sight of your weak figure – it was pathetic. “Why did you not just say you felt sick?”

“I thought I was fine.” You grumbled back.

Wednesday rolled her eyes knowing that’s most likely a lie judging by how much you were moving around 30 minutes into the movie. She knew you were trying to hold back whatever queasiness you were feeling.

“Do you think you can stand?” You nod.

Wednesday helps you up, about to lead you back to bed when you push her helping hand away. “Need to brush my teeth.”

“I think bad breath is the least of your concerns. You can barely stand, Y/N.” She tries to usher you back to bed, but you refuse.

“I may be sick, but I am not gross.” You push her back with what little strength you have left, shutting the door in her face; she hears the faucet running.

All Wednesday could do was scoff and cross her arms over her chest as she waits for you. Of course, she would wait for you. You have been whiny, bratty, and grouchy but even still, Wednesday finds it annoying how she still can’t bring it in herself to leave.

The Addams girl would like to blame the churn in her stomach for the same illness that you have but she knows it would be untrue. Wednesday always feels this way around you; ever since she grew to accept that you would be around. Sometimes with Enid at lunch, sometimes in the library, sometimes at her dorm. 

She always, without a doubt, feels the remnants of creepy crawlies all over her body, hair raising, senses more aware; even if she wasn’t talking to you directly or even if you were on the other side of the room. 

Those would be the times Wednesday elects to keep herself busy to avoid talking to you, whenever you two fight it always ends up with one of you storming off. So, sometimes she chooses to bask in the one-sided silence; whether it be a book or her typewriter.

Enid and Thing think it’s pathetic, hence why they tried to send her to pick up an ‘exam’ from you, hoping Wednesday can finally have a… pleasant interaction with you. But now that was all quickly backfiring for the Addams girl as she thinks of ways to torture you after you get better – to even the playing field.

She gets swept up in fantasies of her glossary of torture methods, mentally crossing out the ones she knew would not suit you. But as the bathroom door opens and you stand on the other side with a guilty frown, Wednesday finds all her murderous urges dwindling away.

She stands straighter at your expression, uncrossing her arms.

“I’m sorry.”  Was all you said, looking up at her with glistened eyes. Wednesday’s stare unknowingly softens. 

“I didn’t mean to do that. I become a real grouch when I don’t feel well.” You rub your palm into your eyes, wiping away the tears. Being sick also makes you emotional, she notes.

Wednesday steps forward, bringing a cautious hand to your wrist, bringing your hands down. “I know. I have been trying to tell you that.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Just let me take care of you.” She all but fretted. Finally, you give in and nod; allowing your arm to go limp as Wednesday leads you back to bed, tucking you in.

Just like before, she moves about with familiarity. This time setting a bucket on your bedside – just in case. “If I knew how terrible this sickness would get, I would have made you the Addams special tea.”

“What’s in it?”

“Just the normal medicinal herbs and a drop of liquid from a vile.”

“What’s… in the vile?”

“Its origins are unknown. My mother says it is from an ancestor who took samples of a deadly virus in the old days, though no one is quite sure. All we know is that it works.”

Your nose crinkles at the thought, having heard of the macabre tales of the Addams family and their eccentric ways. “As thoughtful as that is… I don't think I'm there yet.”

Wednesday shrugs, stepping back. “You’re all set. You should sleep, it's quite late.” She looks at you bundled up in bed once again, this time looking worse than before and she feels short-lived feelings of pity. There was a brief moment of silence as no one says anything, unsure of what to do next.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Wednesday tries to spin around to leave, but you’re grabbing her wrist this time. “Or you can stay…It’d be unfortunate for you to get into trouble for missing curfew just cause you were taking care of me.”

Wednesday raises a brow, asking ‘are you sure?’ choosing to ignore the way her heart dropped to her stomach at your question.

You tighten your hold on her wrist, “I would… like it if you stayed.” You stammered out.

Wednesday nods, removing her boots and sweater then she starts to undo her braids and it makes your brain short-circuit a bit – never having seen her without them. When she gets in beside you she scoots closer than intended – shoulders almost touching. She moves down allowing herself to get down in a comfortable position on your pillows; it smells like you and Wednesday detests that she finds the scent to be so comforting.

You, on the other hand, weren’t really sure where you got that sudden inclination to ask her to stay, but as you look down at her adjusting form in your bed, bundled up under your covers, you knew you made the right choice.

When Wednesday doesn’t feel you moving to lie down, she looks up at you. “Y/N, you need to sleep.”

“The TV is helping me sleep.” You mumble.

“It is making your migraine worse.” Wednesday props herself up on her elbow so you two are face to face. “What is the reason this time?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, playing with the loose thread of the covers to avoid her gaze. “I get night terrors when I’m really sick. Sometimes I just wake up screaming ‘cause I’m so terrified. So I try not to sleep until my fever breaks.”

Wednesday is silent at your revelation. “Would you…like to hold me? While you fall asleep.”

Your eyes widen, not answering. 

As the silence grows Wednesday starts to feel insecure about her question. Then your face softens, “Are you sure?”

“I would not have asked if I was not comfortable.” Your heart skips at her words.

Then Wednesday is turning her back to you, glancing behind her curtain of raven hair as a reassurance that she was serious about her inquiry. Your body is moving closer to her before you can even let yourself think about it, carefully wrapping your arm around her waist. It should be illegal how comforting this feels, at how unearthly it feels to have Wednesday this close.

“You can move closer, I am not fragile,” Wednesday whispers into the quiet night air. She grabs your arm, bringing it closer to her chest as you fall flushed against her; your front to her back.

“Tell anyone about this and I will bury you six feet under alive.” Wednesday threats with firmness.

You chuckle, “I would never tell anyone about this, it’s embarrassing for me.”

“Good. The same for me, as well.”

“Good.” You agreed.

“Great.” She agrees.

There is silence for a while.

“Are…are you…comfortable?” Wednesday breaks the stillness that grew in the room.

“Yes…I am.” You muttered softly; Wednesday fights her body’s reaction to shiver as you whisper the words so close to her ear. Instead, she curls herself into you, hoping her movements disguised the shudder.

“Good. Go to sleep.”

You chuckle, “Goodnight, Wednesday.”

– –

The next day, neither of you mentions how you wake up with Wednesday’s face nuzzled against your neck; hand under your shirt; practically on top of you. You also don’t say anything when she kept coming back every night to ‘help you’ with your night terrors until your fever broke and then a couple more days after that until Enid was practically begging her to come home.

–

:)

[starrihan]

l i f e i s c o o l - Bestfriend! Boynextdoor

-> Pairing: boynextdoor x gender neutral! Reader

-> Plot: what I think bnd would be like as best friends/ bnd best friend dynamics (not specified)

-> Genre: fluff, cute, hyung line scenarios are set in college, woonhak's scenario is set in high school

-> Warnings: none

-> Word Count: 19.99 (teehee), each part is ~300-400 words

-> Notes: i just wanna say thank you to all the beautiful people who have read my works! i wanna keep writing and posting more and I still have so many ideas so i can't wait to publish them! in the mean time, my requests/ asks are open so send something in!

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Sungho: 

You were either always at his house, or he was always at yours. Yeah, you guys would hang out outside with your other friends, but usually, it was just the two of you in either of your houses. He was the literal boy next door. You guys grew up together, knew each other’s most embarrassing moments, past relationships, etc. Everyone swears that you two will end up together one day, but you both know your relationship is strictly platonic. Sure, you guys could admit each other was attractive, but you guys know you wouldn’t work well in a relationship. 

He would be the type to get mad at you for not doing the dishes in your own home when you knew he was coming over. But he’s so dramatic about it. The one time you did clean up he went ‘I can’t believe you cleaned up just for me’. Cue the fake teary eyes. You knew he loved the areas he was in to be clean, so you would leave messes on purpose just to irk him. But at the end of the day, he was the friend that you called for almost anything. When you broke up with your first partner, when you failed your first exam in college, and even when you tried to run away in high school because you had a fight with your parents. 

He was always there for you and he never judged you for who you were, even when you were being ridiculous. He would listen to you no matter what, giving both support or advice whenever you needed it. And he knew you better than you knew yourself, often being the only one that could calm you down when you were panicking or needed a moment. He was the bestest friend you could ever ask for <3

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Riwoo: 

He seemed very calm, cool and collected on the outside. People knew him as the smart, nonchalant guy that would fly through school without even trying. He never had trouble making friends, being quite popular in school, but he chose to keep his circle small, and that included you. People often wondered how he was friends with you. Whether you were bold and loud or shy and quiet, it seemed like his perceived aloof personality didn’t mesh well with yours. But people didn’t know your dynamic. 

Actually, behind closed doors, he was a goofball. He would see you actively trying to study and poke your cheeks to get your attention. If that didn’t work, he would start dancing in front of you until you rip your eyes away from your laptop screen and say a mindless, ‘what do you want.’ And you were the same to him. You guys were like siblings, acting all cool in public but really annoying each other when it was just the two of you. But with all the goofiness came all the love your best friend had to offer. 

Like you once told him about this person you went on a date with and how they treated you terribly. He said he would ‘show them a piece of my mind’ and you had to remind him that he couldn’t just beat someone up because they made you feel upset. He would go to the end of the world and back for you. And of course you reciprocated that sentiment. Like the one time he got a bad haircut in the beginning of high school and you were making fun of him, but when other people did it you’d shoot them daggers and tell them that they weren’t allowed to make fun of him. All in all, one of the best friendship dynamics you could ever ask for.

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Jaehyun: 

One time you left the door to your college dorm room open with a sign saying ‘I’m new to the city, let’s be friends!’ and he ran in, smiled, and said ‘I’m new too, let's be friends!’ And you've been friends ever since. You guys were each other's first friends in college and were surprised that you had similar schedules and even similar majors. You guys both had roommates so you would opt to hang out with each other outside of the dorms. Your go-to spots were the game room in you residence hall or the small cafes that were littered all throughout the campus. 

You commonly had study dates (platonically of course) where you’d spend countless hours at the library preparing for midterms, taking turns being the one to grab coffee for the both of you from the late-night cafe across the street. You once fell asleep at the library while studying and instead of bringing you back to your dorm or his own, he left you there until the morning. You didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. 

But you were the casual bestie duo. You went out to your first parties together, having to shoo off any girls that would try to talk to him after he would clearly express his disinterest. You guys took your first shots together, and even got drunk for the first time, together. To which you both agreed that you wouldn’t be really drunk together ever again because you got back to your dorms and didn’t remember anything about the night before and Jaehyun lost a shoe. But all those experiences is what made you guys as close as you are, and you wouldn’t trade any of those experiences with him for all the money in the world

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Taesan:

An annoying little shit that you can't stand and yet you love him so much. You became friends in elementary school. You were playing with a toy by yourself and he came and ripped it away from your hands. Instead of crying, you hit him and then he hit you back and you guys got into a little kid fight. The teachers had to come break you guys up but instead of screaming and crying, you guys were both laughing. After that, snatching each other’s toys had become a joke to you, always trying to catch the other off guard about when you’d strike next. That’s what blossomed into your current relationship. 

You both went to the same university. You decided that the cheapest option would be to get an apartment together off campus, (but still close enough to the university because neither of you can drive.) You realized that was mistake number one. As you got older, the mischievous little kid that would start fights with him slowly got replaced by a sensitive and irritable adult. You loved his pranks, and you wouldn’t want him to treat you any other way. But sometimes, he would get under your skin. Like the time that you were getting ready for an event that you deemed important enough for you to dress to the 9’s for, only to have Taesan 'accidentally' spill his, now cooled down, ramen broth all over your white outfit. That was the first time he’d ever seen you cry, and he knew he messed up. He apologized over and over again for weeks until you got fed up with it. You weren’t mad at him for long, but he still felt really bad about it. 

But that was your favorite part about Taesan. Even though you had changed as you grew up and he didn’t, (thinking about the time he said that he’s always had a bad personality), he never criticized the person you became. He always welcomed your new personality traits with open arms. You could always fully be yourself around him and not have to worry about if he’d judge you or stop being your friend. Plus, you’d seen the worst of each other, you couldn’t stop being friends now even if you wanted to. 

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Leehan: 

It all started when you moved to Busan. You were 4 years old, making you the new kid. You were still shy, having been so young and this being your first time in school, you had no idea how to make friends. You would just keep to yourself for the first couple of days, and Leehan would notice. He didn’t say anything at first, quietly observing you and your behaviors. He noticed one day that you had brought in gummy bears to eat during snack time. You were the only other person in class that he saw with gummies, so he immediately went up to you. You guys bonded over your shared love for gummies and he even brought enough to share with you the next day.

Leehan was the type of best friend that was always nice, not only to you, but to everyone else as well. He was very liked in high school and even going into college, people loved him. He was the literal definition of ‘big friendly giant.’ Your friendship was very helpful and domestic. Whenever you needed help grabbing things at his house, he would always reach up and get it for you. He loved helping you out, despite his lazy personality. You had mentioned to him that you wanted to make a poster wall in your room and he showed up to your house the next day ready to help you, even though you never asked. 

He was never a man of many words, but he was a great listener. He would always be so focused on what you would be saying. He always gave you his full attention whenever you were telling a story, stopping whatever he was doing to listen to you. And you would do the same for him, especially when he would talk about fish. He always told you whenever he was going out to buy a new fish and even let you name one of his when you were kids. Your friendship is so cute an innocent and Leehan is your comfort person, as much as you are his. 

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Woonhak: 

You guys had met in middle school. You had both participated in the school’s talent show, where you ran into each other using the theatre room to practice your performances. He wanted to practice his singing, and you wanted to practice your dancing. After arguing back and forth, one of the teachers had heard your bickering, proposing a schedule where you guys would switch off days to use the theatre room until the day of the talent show. When the teacher said he could use the room to practice that day, he stuck his tongue out at you in a mocking way, to which you replied with a teasing look of your own. 

You were older than him by a couple months, and you’d always use it to your advantage. He distinctly remembers when you two were kids and the ice cream truck only had one popsicle left. He was about to speak up and ask for it, when you started talking first using the ‘I’m older than you so you should let your elders pick first,’ argument before eating the popsicle right in his face. It backfired on you when class presentations were going on and Woonhak volunteered you to go first because ‘I have to respect my elders and let them go first.’

Even though it had seemed that you guys were rivals, it’s what caused your friendship to grow. Even going into high school, both of your desires to perform only grew stronger. You both always auditioned for any role in the school play, talent show, festival, etc. and would always mock the other if one of you didn’t get what they wanted. But even during those silly antics, you would both stay with each other while practicing your performances, giving tips and pointers on how to be better. You had always cared for each other, even though you both sucked at expressing it. But that was the beauty of your friendship, the words didn’t need to be spoken that you guys cared for each other because your actions did all the talking for you