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zimzalabimboo · 2 days ago

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Nerd!armin x reader

"do you want popcorn?"

Armin looked back at you from the couch, "as long as you dont add a whole spoonful of salt like last time" he physically cringes reminiscing on the taste of pure salt on his tongue, "hey that was an accident!" you screech out from the kitchen grabbing a pan to make the popcorn.

You flop down on the couch right next to him with a bowl full, "what do you wanna watch?" you say throwing your legs over his lap, leaning on the armrest of the couch,

"lets watch that anime we've been talking about" armin places a hand over your bare thighs,

As close as you guys were, his touch always gave you goosebumps, you gulp a bit heat flushing to your face grabbing the remote

The movie was just white noise to you, you couldn't seem to keep concentrated on the movie, he seemed to be a better subject of your attention. The blue light from the tv Illuminating on his face, his blonde hair that was a little too long looked so soft when it was down unstyled, you wanted to pull on it. But the thing that you found the most interesting about him was that silver piece of metal in his mouth. It had been quite a surprise to you when you found out he had a tongue piercing, always wondered what he could do with it, what a contrast to his personality.

"Is something bothering you?" his soft voice broke you out of your trance, it appears you were admiring him not so subtly, "o-oh no its nothing" your eyes flicker down from him for the first time since the movie started, he raises an eyebrow at you, "are you sure? I seem to be a lot more interesting to you then the movie", he tilts his head towards you the hand on your thigh wrapping around it, your cheeks heat up at that comment.

"I was just...wondering" you shyly mutter a bit, be stays silent urging you to continue, "have you ever put that piercing to use?" your voice decreased in volume barely heard over the tv, he seemed to be a bit caught off gaurd by your question mouth gaping a bit exposing the shimmer of said piercing.

"-what you mean like?" he pauses mid sentence to bring his hand up pushing his tongue in his cheek doing a motion, your blush deepens at the implication, "no! well kinda? you know what I mean" you look away unable to look at him in the eyes talking about the vulgar topic.

he pauses for a bit, the corner of his lips turning up,

"well wouldn't you like to know?" he says smugly, the hand on your thigh slowly inching towards your inner thighs,

"I was just curious..." with how shy you had gotten you wondered where you'd even got the confidence to ask in the first place,

"I could show you how I use it"

your brain stopped working.

you give him a blank expression, thinking he's just joking,

Oh. He was dead serious.

You stayed quiet so he took the initiative by moving his position a bit going inbetween your legs hovering over you, one hand on each side of your head, he looked so beautiful like this, his glasses were slipping off his nose

"tell me to stop if you want me to" he leaned down a bit hesitantly, looking in your eyes, you nodded allowing him to go forth with his actions, he kissed you.

His lips felt soft, he tasted swiftly of coffee, your arms wrap around his neck finally getting to tug on his blonde locks. He sighs against your lips at the feeling of your fingers wrapping around the roots of his hair, you pull him in closer deepening the kiss, his tongue slips past your lips coming in contact with your tongue, his piercing was tempting, you wanted to bite on it, would it hurt? too bad you were a bit sadistic

you tugged on it, he whimpers in response, he moans like a whore.

Slender cold fingers wrap around your throat pulling away with a smack, a string of saliva connecting both your lips, he looks at you dazed looking at you up and down in a way that makes a pool of wetness drip onto your panties,

He dips his head into your neck, his hair tickling your skin, he leaves open mouth wet kisses down your neck, making sure you feel the piercing when he does it, he sucks on your collarbones his teeth slightly grazing you, maybe you were a slut for pain as well.

You couldnt help the little noises you were making at how intense it all felt, his fingers slip over your jaw right into your mouth muffling your noises,

You feel him moving down, lower, he takes his fingers out of your mouth, the same fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts taking them off,

"you're so wet" he says it more to himself, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed

His hands wrap around your thighs, his head lowering down, kissing your inner thighs looking up at you through his lashes, keeping direct eye contact before he sticks his tongue out licking a stripe right up your cunt flashing the piercing, your eyes droop a bit, your skin felt on fire from the unbelievable amount of heat you were feeling, you couldn't believe your eyes

he tugs your panties off stopping to admire you a bit, before looking up at you and grinning at you, he gathers spit in his mouth and drools it down onto you, using his fingers to rub it over your pussy and moving in to suck on your clit, the harsh sucking making squelching noises,

You've never felt such ecstasy before, your eyes roll to the back of your head, biting down on your lips whimpering uncontrollably, his tongue circles around your clit before going back to sucking drooling all over you, soaking up the couch but neither of you really give a shit, the metal ball in his mouth feels so cold in contrast to his hot tongue it made you feel overwhelmed, tears forming in your eyes

"ngh- armin.." he was already painfully hard, hearing you moan out his name almost made him cum in his pants, it urged him to go faster licking you messy,

Your hands tangle in his hair pulling on it smothering his face in your pussy, you were trying so hard not to clamp your thighs around his head, not that he would mind.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your thighs shaking, you were close. He circles your hole with two fingers before pushing it in while still sucking on you, you bring one hand up to your face to bite on it in attempts to stifle your loud moans,

"mh look at me..eye contact" he muffles lowly, and you did, it was so filthy. The lewd noises from his mouth, his glasses were all fogged up, and his fingers were sliding in and out of you, embarrassingly easily due to how wet you were

"m-mhpf i-im gonna cum" he speeds up his fingers, spitting on your cunt before suckling on it, you saw stars, you couldn't stop shaking, he moans against you at the taste of you that sends you over a edge, dripping all over his wrists

You were so sensitive, he kept licking up at you, so you pushed on his head, then he finally pulled away, he took his fingers out looking at you while slipping them into his mouth, making the most lewd expression you've ever seen him make while tasting you

You lie there breathless

He gives you a smug look pushing his glasses up his nose, caressing your cheek with his fingers

"guess that answers you question"

That armin fanart unleashed the armin fans🛐 Idk this seems a little too fast paced, I suck at writing details tho💔

Art creds: @musapylsa

#smut #armin arlert #attack on titan #nerd armin #nerdmin #aot smut #armin smut #armin x reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 days ago

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jjk men seeing you in a gorgeous dress for the first time

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,8k

Warnings: pretty much all fluff except for Sukuna + Geto, Geto and reader are baddies in his part so be aware hehe

Gojo Satoru

“I hope I made myself clear.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, desperately fighting with that resistant zipper that refuses its service. This would be way easier with someone assisting you. After all, you’re not peeling yourself into a skin-tight dress every casual evening. Well, it’s not like you alone in this room. But asking him for help?

Absolutely, utterly and completely impossible.

“Hmm, I might need to hear that again.”

You sign to yourself while finally getting your dress all the way up without pinching your skin. Honestly, you were never the girl to wear dresses, let alone fancy gowns. Since you’re out fighting a majority of the time, pants simply suit your lifestyle way better – it’s not like all those monsters care about your clothes anyway. Well, there is one monster that definitely cares, though.

“First, don’t look at me a second too long or I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to see something with those pretty blue eyes again. Second, if you want one comment about that dress the second I step out, I’ll kill you-“

“C’mon, that’s not fair, I’m way too excited-“

“Silence.”

You can sense his pout from behind the curtain.

“I’m being serious, Gojo. One look, one comment and you’re gone in the wind.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath, taking a last look at yourself in the mirror. Why are you suddenly this nervous? You’re never nervous, especially not around that douchebag. There’s no reason to feel that prickling sensation crawling down your bare neck, right? It’s not like you see this guy every day, it’s not like you are secretly in love with him.

No.

You hate that guy.

You hate Gojo Satoru with all your heart. All of that teasing, all of his sly remarks, that dumb grin plastered onto his face when he knows he hit the right sport to annoy the hell out of you.

You couldn’t care less about his opinion, if he thinks that dress suits you, if he finds your curves appealing, if he likes what you did to your hair. None of that matters.

Right?

You step out from behind the curtain with the weight of your threat still lingering in the air before you can act like a pathetic teenage girl a second longer. Each click of your heel against the polished floor echoes like a countdown, and you don’t look at him, don’t dare to. You won’t. Not yet.

The room goes quiet - or at least it feels like it does get even more silent than it was before. You know he’s looking at you. You can feel it before you even lift your eyes, that gaze of his is like sunlight, so warm, bright, annoyingly impossible to ignore.

You brace yourself, fully expecting some smug, drawn-out whistle or a dumb nickname like “angel cake” or whatever unhinged thing he’s cooking up today.

But it doesn’t come.

No joke. No teasing.

Just silence.

Your eyes snap to him before you can stop yourself. And there he is, standing stock-still, for once not lounging or leaning or talking. Just… looking.

His lips are slightly parted like he might say something, but nothing comes out. The usual so cocky glow of his eyes is softer now - not dimmer, just quieter. Focused.

On you.

You almost miss the way his fingers flex at his sides, like he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out.

You hate him. You hate how that makes your chest tighten. You hate how just one glance into his oh so honestly amazed gaze makes your knees go weak.

“Well?” you snap, arms crossed, trying to summon your usual venom.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His expression twitches into the beginnings of a smile. Not a cocky one, at least not yet. It’s the kind of smile that only reaches the corners of his mouth, something more dangerous, realer than everything you’ve seen from him before.

“I was trying to respect your very generous warning. But it’s getting real hard.”

You narrow your eyes.

“One word, Gojo. One, and I swear I’ll walk into that event alone.”

“Then I’ll shut up,” he replies quickly, hands raised in surrender, but his eyes betray him.

It’s always in his eyes that are already speaking volumes. Hungry. Worshipful. Slightly amazed. Because of…you, because of you in that dress?

You step closer, fully intending to brush past him and leave, but he moves first. Not blocking you, but somehow forcing you to stop mid-track. Close enough that the air shifts, warm and electric. Fuck, what on earth is going on?

“You look…” he starts, then stops himself.

You catch the way his jaw tenses, how he swallows.

“Stupid? Like a pathetic clown?”

“You look like trouble. The kind I’d lose everything for.”

Your heart stutters. God, you hate him. You hate how this man makes you feel, how you can literally feel your own heart slipping away from you by those oh so sweet words.

“You’re an idiot,” you mutter, brushing past him, and you don’t miss the way his hand almost rises to touch your back.

Almost, but not quite.

As you walk away, you hear him exhale a breath like he’s been holding it since you walked out.

“Totally worth dying for,” he whispers, just quiet enough you’re almost not supposed to hear it.

Almost.

Nanami Kento

You’re still not sure how you ended up here. Since the day you’ve joined Jujutsu High, there was never something like this. Never a fancy occasion to dress up for, never more than a little chit chat with the higher ups. No, the life here was pretty chill.

Was.

“To be honest, I really don’t know how to feel about this.”

“You? I’m spending all day in a blood-soaked coat while slicing through stuff. I’m really not that into playing real-life dress up Barbie for some old farts,” Shoko replies dryly while tying her hair into a simple knot.

“Touché. But hey, do you…do you think he’ll be there as well?”

He, Kento Nanami, to be exact. It’s not a secret to anyone that he caught your eye. To be honest, it’s hard to miss him. Him with those gorgeous blonde hair, him with cheekbones sharp as knives, him with that oh so dark and tempting voice. The prospect of seeing him somewhere apart from the battlefield? More than tempting. If you’d only manage to look decent.

“You mean Nanami? If he gets paid for it, sure. Hey, what’s that look on your face, (y/n)? Don’t tell me you’re thinking you’re not good enough again.”

You can’t help but bite your cheek. Damn Shoko and her sixth sense.

“I gave up hope that he’ll love me back someday a long time ago,” you lie shamelessly.

“But still…I don’t know if this fits me right.”

Your eyes dart over your body, the sleek fabric of the dress Shoko chose for you. This isn’t something you’d normally wear. To be exact, you only wear your uniform skirt and a summer dress from time to time. Something this extravagant? Not in your wardrobe, not in your budget, not in this lifetime.

“You’re kidding, right? You look like a literal angel, (y/n). I’m sure half of that idiots won’t even recognize you.”

Heat rushes up your cheeks immediately while you start fumbling with your fingers. You hate being the centre of attention, hate the feeling of eyes scanning you up and down.

Before you can react any further, Shoko starts rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, okay? We need to get going or else we’ll be there after Gojo and I can’t accept that shame.”

You chuckle to yourself and allow your friend to lead you through the empty pathways of Jujutsu High. Oh, she’s definitely right.

The venue is lit like something out of an old, expensive movie: warm chandeliers, polished floors, and way too many people trying to look important while sipping champagne like it’s not just fermented grape juice. Is this really the Jujutsu High you’ve spent most of your life in? Impossible, unbelievable.

You shift uncomfortably in your heels as you step into the main hall, your arm looped through Shoko’s for stability, both emotional and literal.

“See?” she mutters under her breath.

“We beat Gojo. Small miracles do happen.”

You barely hear her. Your eyes are too busy scanning the crowd.

Looking for him. Looking for none other than Nanami Kento.

There is no way he came too late. No, a man like him never forgets the time, would never dare to be 15 minutes too late.

And then, there he is.

Nanami Kento. Standing near a window, dressed in a classic black suit with a gold tie that somehow makes his entire presence look even more expensive. He holds a glass in his hand, untouched, fingers wrapped around it in a way that makes something inside you stir. His hair is slicked back neatly, and his posture is, of course, immaculate, his shoulders straight, head slightly turned as if he’s only half-paying attention to whoever is speaking to him.

God, he looks unfair. And out of reach for a basic woman like you.

You feel yourself shrinking automatically. Maybe this dress is too much. Maybe you look like you’re trying too hard. You should’ve just stayed quiet and wore the boring skirt, you shouldn’t have allowed Shoko to make your hair like that. What if he-

“Go.” Shoko nudges your side.

You blink. Twice, maybe way too many times.

“What?”

“He saw you. Don’t pretend he didn’t.”

Her voice lowers, amused.

“He looked like someone just sucker-punched him with a love spell.”

Your stomach flips. You glance back toward him - and you catch it.

The second your gaze meets his, he’s already staring. None other’s than Nanami’s eyes are fixed on you. Not wandering, not casually observing. Focused. Stunned, even.

Your breath hitches.

You half expect him to look away and resume his conversation, but he doesn’t. In fact, he murmurs something to the person next to him and steps away, glass abandoned on a table. And then he walks toward you. Is he…really moving your way? Not to talk to Shoko, not to scold Gojo who just arrived? No, his eyes still rest unmistakably on you.

You freeze.

This is a mistake. You should’ve worn something less tight. Should’ve pulled your hair back. Should’ve-

“Good evening,” he greets, stopping in front of you.

His voice is quieter than usual, almost... cautious. You nod, fighting the urge to look at the floor.

“Evening.”

There’s a pause. A long one, to be exact. You can practically feel Shoko smirking beside you before she melts into the crowd with a muttered, “Don’t blow it.”

Nanami’s eyes trail down your figure. Not in a way that makes you feel picked apart, but in a way that feels... sincere. Measured. Gentle.

“You look,” he comments, and there’s the smallest catch in his throat.

“...Stunning.”

You blink. He sounds almost unsure that he’s allowed to say it.

“I hope that’s not inappropriate.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. Did he really just say that. Did he really just call you stunning? Him, that force of a man who turns women’s heads on a daily basis, the sorcerer who stole your heart?

“No, it’s not” you manage, barely above a whisper.

Another pause. Did you act too awkward? Why are you not able to just talk to that man? You’re always acting like a stupid little girl around him, no logical sentence leaving your mouth when his eyes rest on yours. Maybe he thinks you’re dumb, maybe he just came here out of sorrow-

“I wasn’t planning on staying long,” he utters quietly, “but now I think I might.”

You look up at him then. Really look. And maybe it’s just the lighting, maybe it’s your imagination, but there’s something in his gaze that feels soft. Curious. Maybe even nervous. No, this man doesn’t think you’re stupid at all.

“Would you walk with me?”

You nod before your fear can stop you.

“I’ve never seen that color on you before. It suits you. Brings out… more than I should say in public.”

You blink, unable to truly process what the just said.

“More?”

There’s a slight shift in his expression, a subtle softening at the eyes, a twitch of something resembling a smile at the corner of his lips.

“It brings out your strength. Your grace. Things you probably don’t see when you’re covered in dust and blood.”

He pauses, and then adds, with something dangerously close to warmth in his voice:

“You look like something people should kneel for.”

Sukuna

“Get it going or else I’ll change my mind and kill you right on the spot.”

You roll your eyes out of instinct. What’s even worse than being held hostage by the king of curses? Right, getting forced to accompany him to some strange event. All those curses roaming around you while you’re nothing but a simple grade 1 sorcerer. Are you even able to survive this?

Certainly not in that dress. Of course, he had to choose something for you, something you can barely breathe in, covered in glitter with a neckline so low that everything might fall out if you bend one inch.

You’d never wear something like this out in public, not to any event, to be exact. Good for you than no one knows you anyway.

Apart from the curses you tried to kill, maybe.

“That’s enough.”

The sipper isn’t even halfway up when he barges into the room like he owns this place.

“Who the hell allowed you to get in here?”, you shriek, desperately hiding your exposed chest behind your palms.

“Invited? I own this place, stupid human. I don’t need your permission to enter.”

His eyes scan you up and down, seem to devour you whole with each passing second.

You grit your teeth, the zipper still caught halfway up your back. Your palms stay pressed to your chest, heat crawling up your neck as you glare at him. What the hell does he keep staring at you like this?

“Turn around, you creep.”

Sukuna doesn’t move. No, not even a single inch.

Instead, he takes another step in, that wolfish grin playing at the corners of his mouth, all fangs and sin.

“I should be insulted,” he muses, voice a lazy purr.

“You think I haven’t seen a body before? You think yours is special enough to fluster me?”

You throw him a venomous glare, but your traitorous heart stumbles in your chest at the way his eyes narrow on you, low and dangerous. Your heart shouldn’t skip a beat when he looks at you like that, your very own eyes shouldn’t wander around his body, take in the sight of that black suits pressed against his tight muscles.

“…That said,” he adds, “you should see your reflection right now.”

You scoff.

“Why? So I can die of shame?”

He huffs a dark chuckle, stepping closer – way too close for comfort - until the heat of him fills the room like smoke.

“No,” he remarks, gaze dropping to the exposed sliver of your chest you’re trying and failing to hide, “so you understand what it does to me.”

You freeze. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You need to do something, need to shout at him, need to push him away and finally flee this place. But you do nothing. You just stand there and look up at him through thick lashes.

He reaches forward, slow and deliberate - and for a second, you think he’s going to touch you. Instead, his clawed fingers catch the zipper and pull it upward with one swift tug. You shudder at the brief contact of knuckles brushing your spine, of his body heat radiating through your dress so effortlessly.

“Better,” he mutters, though it sounds like he’s talking more to himself than you.

“I won’t have you walking beside me looking like prey.”

He circles you once, hands clasped behind his back now, expression unreadable.

“Though, you clean up better than I expected. Glitter suits you. Shame you’re not mine to keep.”

You spike, oh so eager to keep at least a spark of dignity.

“I was never yours.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re here, in my palace, in my dress, with my mark of protection. Tell me, little sorcerer-”

He leans down, lips inches from your ear, voice low enough to scrape against your bones. You feel like dying and flying at the same time, breath getting knocked out of your lungs as you stare straight into the devil’s eyes.

“-how long do you plan to keep pretending that doesn’t mean something?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Not when he’s this close. Not when your blood is roaring in your ears. Not when you can feel his breath against your skin and all you want to do is both shove him away and lean in. Not when thoughts darker than anything you’ve ever read about start to occupy your mind like parasites.

Sukuna straightens again, clearly satisfied by the way you’re stuck in place.

“Now, keep up. I want the room to see you bleed confidence.”

He pauses in the doorway, casting you one last look over his shoulder.

“And if anyone touches you?”

His voice drops, spiteful and dark.

“I’ll rip their arms off. Slowly.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you with the echo of your heartbeat pounding like war drums and the scent of danger lingering in the air.

Geto Suguru

You still don’t know how you ended up here. Was it the attitude from yesterday or that sundress you wore last week that gave the elders ideas?

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because you’re already on your way to that gala, already have a clear mission in your mind:

Find Geto Suguru.

Seduce Geto Suguru.

Kill Geto Suguru.

There first two tasks? Quite easy for someone in a tight red dress and an eyeliner as sharp as a blade. But actually killing him?

That’s a whole other thing. You never met Suguru since he went berserk before you joined jujutsu high yourself. What you do know though is the chaos he leaves behind whenever he decides it’s time to kill some non-sorcerers again. What will Gojo say when he finds out?

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you instruct the unknown driver briefly.

You can’t afford to care about that now. Without wasting another precious minute, you enter the grand hall.

The gala is a haze of velvet, perfume, and polished threats. You glide through it all like smoke - calm, unreadable, untouchable. Just here to get your job done and go.

You catch your reflection in the glass behind the bar as you lean in. The red dress clings to every inch it should, your gaze cool beneath the razor-cut eyeliner. You raise a finger delicately to the bartender.

“Pornstar martini,” you order smoothly.

He nods and turns to prepare it. And then, without even needing to look, you feel him.

It’s like a drop in air pressure. Like the moment before lightning cracks a tree in half. The calm before the storm.

“You don’t seem like someone who needs the liquid courage,” a low voice murmurs beside you.

You turn, slow and cautious. It has to be him. There is literally no doubt in the fact that it is him, the man you’re searching for.

Geto Suguru stands next to you, dark eyes full of quiet mischief and something heavier beneath. His long black hair is half-tied, draping over his shoulder in a way that's annoyingly perfect. He’s dressed sharply, but there's something loose in his posture, like he doesn’t believe anything here could possibly matter. Including you.

Wrong.

You smile - the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s not for courage. It’s for taste.”

Geto leans against the bar, elbow brushing yours.

“Ah. So you have standards.”

You sip, then glance at him over the rim.

“One or two.”

“And I wonder,” he mutters, voice dropping as his gaze trails down your frame, slow enough to be insulting if it weren’t so calculated, “do those standards apply to men with a high kill count and a price on their head?”

You click your tongue thoughtfully, swirling the passionfruit garnish between your fingers.

“Only if they buy the next drink.”

He chuckles, deep and rich, and it thrums through your chest despite yourself.

“So,” he continues, stepping closer, enough that his breath touches the shell of your ear.

“What’s a woman like you doing at a party full of ghosts in suits?”

You tilt your head, letting your perfume brush against him.

“Looking for someone interesting.”

“Have you found him?”

You meet his eyes head-on, unflinching.

“Maybe.”

There’s a beat. The music fades into the background. Everything narrows down to the space between his mouth and yours, to the tension crackling in the air like an old wire about to spark. Oh, he’s definitely handsome with that smile just as charming as it is threatful.

He leans in again, this time lower, voice a whisper meant only for you.

“Tell me, darling… are you here to kill me?”

You don’t flinch. Don’t blink. Just take another slow sip. Of course he knows. A man like him doesn’t attend a grand gala assuming nobody is here to kill him.

“Would it make a difference if I said yes?”

He grins - a wolfish, indulgent thing.

“Only in whether I let you finish your drink.”

You smile, matching his energy, then set the glass down with a soft clink. Maybe you can afford your evening getting just a little more interesting.

“And if I’m not here to kill you?”

Geto’s eyes burn like lit oil. He lifts a hand, fingers grazing just above your waist, not touching, not quite. Hovering, patiently waiting for the right moment.

“Then I’ll take that dress off of you tonight.”

Another pause, your heart skips a beat.

“I hope you’re as skilled with your hands as you are with your words,” you murmur.

He laughs again, softer this time.

“Stay close and find out.”

And just like that, he offers his arm, as if this was a royal ball and not a game of knives beneath silk.

You loop yours through his without hesitation. Because you’ve already made your choice.

Find Geto Suguru. Seduce Geto Suguru. Kill Geto Suguru.

And maybe… let him try to do the same first.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld

@kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez

@sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings

@sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix

@chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso

@gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper

@baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp

@localhehecat @alicerhr @sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami

@chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

@kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

Pics from the header:

Gojo: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/159596380538985199/

Geto: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719763/

Sukuna: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719719/

Nanami: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719716/

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littlemillersbaby · 2 days ago

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request: Hi lovely person ! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst loll" word count: 1,2k warnings: cursing!

you were supposed to be past this by now. the self-doubt. the little pinpricks of anxiety you never used to feel before joel. the kind that bloom right in your chest; it hadn’t always been this bad. at the start, it had been electric—hiding, sneaking, the way his hands used to shake the first time he touched you like he couldn’t believe what he was doing. what you were letting him do.

but that was when it was new. now it’s just uncertain.

you came home early. you tell yourself you’re doing it to surprise him, but deep down, it’s selfish. you missed him, wanted to see him and hear that voice all rough and possessive. you were gonna kiss his neck and make him groan like he always does when you wrap your arms around his middle from behind.

but, once you get there, the front door’s already open. maybe he forgot to close it all the way? no way not joel.

within that small moment of you questioning why the door was open, you hear his sweet laugh and a woman’s voice.

you freeze in the entryway, sneakers still on, keys tight in your hand. you see them before they see you.

he was in the kitchen, leaning on the island like he lives here. it’s an image you always love—him comfortable in your house. like it’s his too. but next to him is her. she’s got one elbow on the counter, her whole body tilted toward him, her legs crossed while she’s laughing at something he just said, flipping her shiny brown hair off her shoulder with practiced ease.

your throat goes dry seeing him grin widely at her..he was yours for fucks sake.

your feet move before your brain decides where to go. you make a little too much noise, keys clattering on the hallway table, and the door clicks harder behind you than it should. you know you should smile. a joke, maybe? just say something.

joel turns around fast at the sound.

“hey, baby,” he says, but it’s careful, like he’s trying to read your mood before you’ve even said a word. he straightens up, steps away from the island.

the woman turns to you too. she’s prettier up close, older too. just right..like if he wasn’t with you, she’d be the natural fit. not your frayed little heart that’s too young to have any right wanting something this serious.

“hi,” you say, and it’s clipped and fake.

you try not to look at him. because you know if you do, it’ll all show. how suddenly, irrationally fucking insane your brain’s gotten.

joel must see it anyway, because his eyes narrow, not angry. just—watching, somewhat worried. the older woman pushes off the counter, smoothly. “i should head out,” she says, glancing at joel. “thanks for the help. you’re a lifesaver.”

joel nods, kind of tight-lipped now. “no problem. let me know if it doesn’t start again.” she smiles at you on the way past. you can’t bring yourself to return it. your face feels frozen in place.

joel waits until the door clicks behind her before he speaks.

“you good?” you’re still standing by the entryway, arms crossed like you were cold.

“who was that?” you ask, and it comes out cooler than you meant.

he runs a hand through his hair, sighs, steps toward you, rushing out the words. “her name’s elena. neighbor’s cousin. she’s in town for a bit; had some car trouble.”

you blink at his simple explanation. “oh.”

he studies you. “okay darlin', what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

you almost laugh—but it’s bitter and sharp in your throat.

you walk past him toward the living room, not sure what you’re doing. you feel stupid, childish, pathetic. and still—you can’t stop. it’s gnawing at you. inside your chest, inside your bones.

you don’t sit down, just turn to face him.

“nothing. just…she’s pretty and normal. and probably not some big secret.”

he flinches. “what the hell does that mean?”

you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “you know what it means. i’m the one you sneak around with. the one you don’t talk about. and then i walk in and you’re laughing with her like..like you’re not ashamed to be seen with her.”

his jaw works, tightens, then softens again.

“ashamed?” he echoes, incredulous. “is that what you think this is?”

you don’t answer. you just keep going because now that you’ve started it, it’s like you can’t stop. every thought you’ve shoved down in the last few months starts rising like bile in your throat.

“sometimes i just wonder how long this’ll last, you know? how long before you realize i’m too much or not enough. that this is all some dumb phase and you’re just waiting for a reason to bail. like maybe you wake up one day and look at me and wonder what the fuck you’re doing wasting time with some girl barely out of college who still calls her dad to ask how to fix her tires.”

joel walks to you, leans over you in an endearing manner. “hey..hey..look at me.”

you don’t want to. your eyes are wet and you feel like an idiot. but he cups your face in both hands, rough thumbs brushing your cheeks, and you have no choice.

he leans down, rests his forehead against yours.

“i love you,” he says. “i’m not goin’ anywhere. and don’t you ever—ever—talk about yourself like that again.”

your lip trembles as his grip tightens.

“you think i don’t wish i could take you everywhere? shout it from the rooftops that you’re mine? i do, baby. every fuckin’ day. i just…” he sighs, jaw clenching again. “i worry, alright? i know how people see me. old enough to know better. and you? you’re this bright, gotdamn beautiful thing, and i don’t wanna drag you down into all my mess.”

you shake your head, fast, angry now. “you don’t get to decide that for me, joel.”

he smiles fondly, even with the tension thick between you.

“i know. you keep remindin’ me. but this? this ain’t a fling. you’re not some secret i’m ashamed of. you’re the best thing in my life, i swear.”

you swallow. “then why does it feel like you’re always waiting for it to fall apart?”

he pulls you in—both arms around you, holding you so tight it aches. his lips press to your hair.

“’cause i don’t deserve you. but i’m selfish enough to keep you anyway.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in his chest.

his voice rumbles in your ear. “you’re not too young. you’re not too much. you’re not anything but exactly what i want. every second. every day.”

you’re quiet a long time. his hand strokes your back comforting you.

“you smiled at her,” you whisper. “like it was easy to do.”

he leans back, just enough to look at you. “and you smile at bartenders when they spell your name right on your smoothies. doesn’t mean you wanna fuck ‘em.”

you snort against your will.

he grins. “see? there she is.”

you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on tight.

“i hate how much i love you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“nah,” he mutters, kissing your temple. “you love how much you love me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go. and never will.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @lowrisemiller

#𓇢𓆸 requests #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #divider by @i-mmaculatus

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orimuraa · 2 days ago

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• The sun’s engaged to the sky - 이희승 ↳ ┊: falling behind - laufey

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆you were shy and introverted, but meeting a certain someone made you want to try and be more his type ⨾

۶ৎ heeseung x fem!reader┆fluff┆heeseung is the son of reader’s parent’s coworkers┆petnames, slight insecurities?┆wc 973

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this was supposed to be a short drabble but i got a bit carried away…thank you to the anon who requested! i hope you enjoy >.<

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

"y/n let's go!" you mom called out from downstairs.

your parents often had business meetings that they would take you on just so you wouldn't be alone all the time. however, you loved being alone. you were on the shy side and you found socializing immensely difficult, making the work meetings awkward for you.

"our client has a son who's around you age, sweetie!" your mom says in her bubbly tone when you arrive downstairs.

"great...friends..." you say sarcastically, letting your shoulders droop just at the dreadful thought. you weren't sure if you looked too dark but you wore your usual color—black. it wasn't anything too fancy, just a black collared shirt and some black dress pants.

the car ride was comfortable as you were able to drown out your anxiety with music while your parents talked. it wasn't that you were incapable of talking to people, it was just hard as you were a serious introvert.

when you arrived, you slowly got out of the car, attempting to delay your parents as much as possible. unfortunately, it didn't work as the other couple was already waiting for you at the entrance.

there stood a couple that you hardly looked at because right next to them was the most gorgeous man you have ever seen.

he was in a casual white dress shirt but damn he looked good. his hair was a shade of deep red while his bambi eyes sparkled brighter than the sun.

"hi, i'm heeseung! y/n, right?" you nod. "gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl" he winks. god damn his stupid flirting skills.

"h-hi..it's nice to meet you," you blush, unable to think properly anymore. he was so pretty it made you nervous and you resisted the urge to dig a hole and hide it it.

“nice to meet you to, i’m lee heeseung,” he smiled, sticking his hand out to shake yours. god- even his hand was pretty-

“well, you kids have fun while we do the adult talking,” you mom jokes, making you scowl.

your parents and his walked into a conference room, leaving you and heeseung to keep each other company.

“sooo…what do you like to do?..” you cringed at your poor attempt to make small talk.

“i like to write songs,” he smiles, everything getting more perfect each time you looked at him.

“oh? really? that’s cool,” you reply, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward.

“how about yourself?” he asked, his voice so smooth and warm. no wonder he was a singer.

“i like to do art,” you say shyly, feeling your ears heat up.

“that’s so cool! i’ve always admired people with artistic talent..i..i can’t draw whatsoever,” he laughs, his eyes forming into little crescents.

“maybe i could draw while you make music..i think our parents will be meeting a lot more,” you offer, fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleeve.

“that sounds lovely y/n,” he smiles once again, his voice now softer.

when you got home, you realized that heeseung seemed like a very outgoing person. definitely the type of person you weren’t. then your mind started to drift. would he ever date someone like you? if you changed, would he then consider you?

you spent the test of your evening watching videos on how to be social and also fixing your all black wardrobe.

so the next time you went with your parents, you were basically a whole new person.

each time, you tried to slowly change. more laughs, more smiles, more personality. you hoped it caught heeseung’s eye.

you finally decided to go full out this meeting. maybe then heeseung would notice you for someone more his type. you were giddy and excited to go, skipping out of your room clad in a pink sweater and a black skirt.

“oh- sweetie are you okay?” your mom questioned, blown away by the change in her daughter.

“eh, leave her, she’s having fun,” your dad said, chuckling as he got in the car.

heeseung was just as perfect as he was the last time you saw him—if not more so.

“hi heeseung!” you smiled, a huge smile on your face.

“hi y/n, you seem different today?” he asked, an amused hanging on his lips.

“o-oh? really?” you stutter, caught off guard.

“y/n, you don’t need to change to please me,” heeseung says gently, moving one of his hands over to yours. “you were perfect as you were the first day i met you. in fact- i think i enjoy the shy ynnie better.”

“you really think so? but you’re so- you’re so…i don’t know! perfect!” you blurt, your confession coming from your lips.

“me? perfect? please, nobody’s perfect,” heeseung laughs, pushing back his hair. “plus, if i’m perfect, you must be beyond perfect, angel.”

“gosh- i don’t know how anyone could keep that up for their whole life! that was exhausting,” you sigh, letting your shoulders relax a bit. “but you really think i’m better all shy and unable to socialize?” you question, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks.

"i thought it was cute," heeseung shrugged, smirking when he saw how flustered you got. "besides, i want to be fall for the real you, not this made up one."

"what- you...you like me?" you freeze, unsure if you heard him correctly.

"yeah, i mean- you're so sweet and i find it so cute how you get so shy," heeseung chuckles lightly. "maybe i could take you on a date, angel?"

you didn't trust you voice enough to respond so you managed an enthusiastic nod towards heeseung. "i would really like that..." you said, your voice barely over a whisper.

"i'm glad our parents work together, and i'm glad i met you, cutie," heeseung says, booping your nose like you were a little kid.

he could get used to making you flustered.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

#₊˚⊹♡𝖄ᥱȷі's 𝖂᥆rks #enhypen #engene #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heesung enhypen #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung soft hours #lee heeseung soft hours #enhypen heeseung #kpop x reader

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sebmindbreak · 2 days ago

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ITRAPPED X YOU/READER HEADCANONS!

Hehe I love that manipulative mf

HEADCANONS

-platonic

-proposal

-romantic

First of all , 3 parts !

iTrapped (Platonic When he first meets you)

-You weren't scared of him, and that alone made him interested.

-chance had introduced you back at their casino and Itrapped was here.

-He noticed you were observant. Too observant. It made him both grin and grimace.

-Instead of jumping to hostility, he tried talking to you first, just to see what you'd do.

-You gave him a reaction he didn't expect. Not fear, not awe ,curiosity and kindness?..

-He decided he’d follow you a little. Not in a creepy way. More like a cat watching someone open a tuna can.

-When you spoke to him like a person , even though he had countless times tried to manipulate you, he tilted his head. “Weird,” he muttered. But didn’t walk away.

-You somehow reminded him of chance and he both loved and HATED it

-At first, he thought it was to "study your weaknesses." , seeing what you liked , what's your favourite things , Then it turned into routine.

-he realised.. he fell , he fell HARD.

iTrapped (Proposal – How he proposes to you)

-He would never go traditional. No ring-in-a-glass-of-wine , or roses garbage. He’s too theatrical.

-He makes a fake trap one day, just for you. Tells you to step in the middle, deadpan serious.

-“Trust me. It’s not lethal. Unless you say no. Then it might be.”

-When you step inside, lights flicker and a voice (definitely his voice, altered) echoes “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME.”

-He drops down from the ceiling (yes, literally LOL) holding a bouquet of icy flowers.

-“Will you be my partner?”

-He’s not even nervous. He knows you’ll say yes. But he still watches you closely for the reaction (part of him still is afraid you'll say no..)

-When you say yes, he looks stunned for just a second then grins.

-“Sucker,” he teases, before pulling you into the sweetest kiss

-He's proud of making you say yes , and brag about it.

iTrapped (Romantic After you're together)

-He still makes jokes about how he could "trap you again" if you ever try to leave.

-He’s annoyingly clingy but in a way that makes your heart hurt. Always leaning on you, draped over your shoulders, poking your face.

-he demands attention 24/7 , but will DENY it

-Calls you things like “mine,” “sweetheart,” or “my lucky clover.”

-He has no shame being affectionate in public. Especially if it annoys others.

-Whenever you get mad, he just smirks and says, “Aww. You’re cute when you threaten me.”

-He actually gets jealous extremely easily, but hides it behind snide sarcasm.

-unless it gets serious

-If someone flirts with you, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and says something like, “Excuse me , but.. they're MINE...”

-Loves hearing your laugh. Will do the dumbest things to make you smile.

-He keeps the things you saved to him in his room , like trinkets and stuff, One of them is engraved with your initials.

-Sometimes he just stares at you when you sleep. Not creepily. Just… like he can’t believe he got this lucky.

-He once whispered, “How am I even here with you?....”

I HOPE YOU ENJOY! I did a mix of normal Itrapped x FORSAKEN Itrapped, I love Itrapped HEHE

#forsaken x reader #forsaken roblox #forsaken #forsaken x you #forsaken itrapped #itrapped x reader #itrapped roblox #itrapped forsaken

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jsooly · 1 day ago

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death in the family (7) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, you try and fail to intervene with spider and the recoms, much to the chagrin of a certain clan leader.

note, sorry i was away for so long

(MASTERLIST)

when lo'ak returned, he expected to get chewed out. jake and neytiri didn't disappoint, scolding him in front of everyone. normally he wouldn't be too keen on forgiving aonung, but it seemed easier.

as jake and neytiri squabbled amongst themselves, they sent lo'ak back to the marui. his siblings trailed beside him, excited and curious despite the gravity of the situation.

"brother, you were out there all alone?" tuk's eyes shone, her expression unreadable as if she couldn't decide between being concerned and amazed.

lo'ak's eyes creased as he smiled. "not alone."

"your ilu stayed with you?" kiri tilted her head, her voice soft. neteyam's eyes narrowed behind her, still annoyed that lo'ak was led astray by those other kids.

they all sat in their little corner, as if holding town hall.

"no. it was tulkun," lo'ak grinned. "and y/n."

tuk screamed and kiri hurriedly shushed her, positively shocked herself. neteyam gaped at his brother, leaning closer.

"are you joking with us, lo'ak?" he hissed. "this is not a funny joke."

"no, no, i'm serious!" lo'ak held his hands up in surrender. "you cannot tell mom and dad."

"how did she find you?" kiri asked urgently. "why was she out here?"

lo'ak shook his head, scooting closer to them and closing off the circle further. "she was riding. a stormglider."

neteyam shook his head, rolling his eyes. "you're lying."

lo'ak glared at him, swatting his shoulder. "no, i am not. she really was riding! they bonded without tsaheylu, just mutual need for each other. i swear on my life."

neteyam wanted to believe you were capable of something like that, yet he couldn’t bring himself to. not when he hasn’t seen you himself. “that’s…”

"where is she now?" tuk whined.

lo'ak turned his stern look to her. "probably back home by now. it was hours ago. you can’t tell anyone, okay, tuk?”

tuk launched herself at him, her grubby hands viciously tangling in his braids and pulling. “jerk! why didn’t you let us see her?!”

“tuk!? get off!”

kiri pulled her little sister off, hissing at her to quell her explosive anger. she then looked at lo’ak and sighed. “tell us everything.”

your knife chipped at the spare gas masks at the recoms' temporary base, searching and searching for the tracker. nothing. there was nothing. driving your knife further for the sake of releasing your frustration more than anything, you were uncaring as the clunk ... clunk ... clunk ... sounds echoed through the forest.

could nothing work out for you when it really mattered?

you groaned and settled for frying the circuits so nothing would work, tracker included. it wouldn't matter if one or two masks couldn't filter properly if you were switching them out anyway.

you knelt to the ground, rifling through your duffel bag for the masks you swiped from the RDA. you were about to switch them out when—

a undulating cry from the distance made your head snap up, the hairs on your skin raising. within the next second, an arm molded against your stomach, collecting you in their arms as they pulled higher into the air on their ikran.

"hey—!" you screamed, gripping the na'vi arm pressing into the plush of your stomach. you watched the ground and your plan drift further away from your grasp as the banshee soared higher.

you were wrestled up onto the saddle like a ragdoll, sitting behind the rider. you recognized his markings and beads, your annoyance spreading through your limbs as you held onto his waist a bit too tightly.

"tarsem..." you hissed lowly.

"tell me my eyes deceive me." he snapped back over the wind. "tell me that wasn't you at a devil camp."

you grit your teeth, your initial panic calming. despite the exhausted irritation you felt towards him, tarsem was still a familiar face. "relax, you don't know the whole story."

"you put yourself in danger!" he growled, momentarily turning back to give you an incredulous expression.

put off by his audacity, you refused to drop your glare. danger? at an unaccompanied camp? "look at who you're talking to!" you shot back, ire bubbling over.

"oh, i'm about to," he grumbled, communicating to his ikran to land. your grip tightened when you took a dip through the sky, skidding onto the nearby cliffs. you swiftly dismounted his banshee, storming off to survey the surroundings.

"don't walk away from me." tarsem sneered behind you, to no avail. "you cannot leave here without my help."

you scoffed at the blatant power trip. "i suppose that makes you happy?"

"no—" he cleared his throat, running after you and hovering at a respectable distance. "i do not mean to corner you. i meant you shouldn't try to climb down on your own."

you waved him off, covering your eyes to peer into the distance. would katir hear you from all the way out here? you stationed him an area where he would be safe from the omaticaya's hunt, but you were dubious your call would travel from the cliffside. another problem.

as if sensing your growing burn-out, tarsem placed a cool hand onto your shoulder. "y/n—"

you shrugged him off, "not now, tarsem." you mumbled, massaging your temples. how would you manage to pull of your plan now?

tarsem's mouth twisted, eyes set in angles. he clicked his tongue in distaste. "watch yourself, tawtute. your father is not here. i am your olo'eyktan."

you turned slowly, your last nerve snapping; an unnerving smile spread on your face in sharp contrast to the thoughts swirling in your head. "did you just pull rank on me?"

he stood tall against your quiet animosity, but your careful eye noticed the way he shifted on the balls of his feet. "you are part of my clan, and so it is my responsibility to look after you. prevent you from your... reckless curiosity."

you didn't have the energy to be offended. "you don't have to look after me, tarsem. if my weeks of absence weren't an indication, i'm not the clan's problem anymore."

he nodded slowly. "that... is actually why i came looking for you." he stepped forward. "i told you a half-truth yesterday. i do not wish for you to visit; i want you to return to high camp."

"i'm not going back," you answer instinctively, a dry laugh on your lips. "the people do not want me there."

"ah." he scoffed, shaking his head vigorously. "those are adults aging out of their influence. there is a new generation who would benefit from your example. they already look up to you against their parents' wishes—you shine too bright for them to ignore you. teach them your skill."

his praise wormed its way under your skin, making you more cautious of your words. "that's... a nice idea, but i'm more than content to keep my distance—"

"i'm not." tarsem cut in firmly, a deep frown on his face as he stepped into your space. then, softer, "i'm not content with you being away. i am clan leader now, and i will run my people as i please. come home. it is where you belong."

he was closer now, blocking the sun with his tall, lean figure. his shadow was a relief against the heat, but that was the only calming thing about his presence. his tone left no room for negotiation, and the finality of his voice riled up the annoyance that his compliments dulled earlier.

"i was doing something down there, you know." you pointed angrily to the camp below. "i was trying to save a friend. should i inform him he remains in the RDA's clutches because you wanted to goad me with your new title and status?"

he bared his teeth, circling you like a predator playing with his food. "i said watch yourself, tawtute."

"nearly two decades of wishing me gone, and when it finally happened, it's another issue?"

"srane. yes, exactly!" tarsem retorted matter-of-factly. "i mean—no, you are not a problem—"

you sighed. "i appreciate the offer, but i have every reason to avoid high camp." you rolled your eyes, turning from him and pressing your fingers to your comm. "spider—"

"don't walk away from me." tarsem interrupted, gripping your shoulder and spinning you back around.

"tarsem—"

whatever words came next were swallowed by katir's ear-shattering cry, his shadow drowning the cliff in darkness. tarsem's grip around you tightened, his free hand curling around his bow. your stormglider soared over the clifftop, descending to see you in his range of vision. you could see his eyes dart between you and tarsem. to be fair, it didn't look good—tarsem's hand around his weapon, imposing himself into your body, both of you having combative body language...

katir took tarsem as a threat, circling back around with his barbed tail poised for attack.

"run!" tarsem grabbed your bicep, yanking you to his ikran.

"wait, he's—" you grunted as he no less than chucked you on top his saddle, jumping on behind you and yipping his command to his ikran. "tarsem!" you yelled indignantly. why does he insist on disregarding you?

your protests fell upon deaf ears as tarsem maneuvered his banshee through hallelujah mountains. you attempted to squirm out of his arms.

"are you so stubborn that you would sooner die than accept my help?" he wrestled with you while trying to maintain tsaheylu with his ikran. "stay—would you just stay still—"

you whistled, waiting for katir to fall from his vantage point and rest at an altitude just below tarsem. finally worming yourself out of his grip, you leaped from his ikran. your stomach flipped as you dove through the air.

katir churred as he rose to meet you. you grunted when you landed on him, relief washing over you as you breathing in... and out... you smiled against katir's skin, rubbing his neck appreciatively.

"good boy, kitkat." you hummed, beaming when you felt him purr underneath your palm. "good boy!"

you and katir climbed to tarsem's height, flying comfortably beside him. a triumphant smile slowly spread on your lips upon seeing his shock.

his eyes trailed over you, then the stormglider you tamed. "...when i warned you about the slotsyal yesterday, did you already bond with it?"

"yeah." you grinned.

despite it all, he smiled too.

spider didn't respond to any of your calls, making your gut churn with unease. you knew he knew how to handle himself, but this was the longest you've gone without checking in with each other. how would you tell him that your plan fell through, and you had no answers for the next step?

the sun yawned and started to droop, bathing the forest in its orange-pink glow, the cool night breeze starting to overcome the heat of day. for the last few hours, you and tarsem talked about your plan for spider since your family left.

"it is admirable you would go out of your way for him," tarsem fiddled with the stem of a flower, his long legs folded and his torso reclined against the soft grass of a mountain top beside you. high camp was minutes away, far enough that no one would see you but close enough to zip back home before it gets too late. "and i know you are very skilled. i just fear for my life should i let you continue your pursuits and your father hears you've been injured. or worse."

"didn't you say my father isn't here?" you tease, casting him an amused look. "suddenly you are not olo'eyktan anymore?"

he whacked your shoulder with the flower with a playful glare. "i am olo'eyktan. but concerning you, jake sully has higher authority than me."

you rolled your eyes, your smile dropping. "not anymore."

tarsem's hands returned to his lap. he heard of the rift between you and your parents through rumor and gossip alone, but the effects of their departure on you were true across all accounts. "i'm sorry for... how everything happened."

you waved him off. "it's not your fault, just... circumstances and stuff."

"do you forgive him?"

"huh?" your head whipped to face tarsem, caught off-guard by the question.

forgiveness? you hadn't considered whether you'd grant it to or withhold it from your father in the slightest. the pain of abandonment stung, yes, but like the last 19 years of your life, you were expected to shoulder all your angst with a polite smile. from small things like every older sibling's experiences of tolerating the pests they call their younger brothers and sisters, to big things like honoring elders even though every other breath was spent trying to get rid of you.

it's why you were able to sit through that stupid medical checkup call with them without airing out your grievances, or breaking down from how happy and ... normal they seem without you.

so, no, forgiveness wasn't on your mind at all. you'd continue to play the part of responsible, strong, older sister as long as you live, but you figured for once in your life, you could allow yourself to feel this all-consuming whirlwind of emotion after your family left you behind.

"i don't know." you settled for an answer, avoiding his gaze.

tarsem's expression was neutral with a softness you remember from your childhood. he sighed, leaning over and slipping the flower into your hair.

"i will not force you to do anything," he began. "but i will ask you once again to come home."

"tarsem..." you mumbled, shaking your head gently, the warmth of his fingers lingering on your cheek long after he had pulled away.

"i know, i know. you don't think you should." he stood, stretching his arms over his head. "i'll keep asking. but you know how to find me if you do choose to return on your own." he adjusted his garments, fastening his knives back into their pockets. "you need people now more than ever, tawtute. and if the clan won't hold you in their hearts, i will."

you simply stared at him, returning his parting smile with one of your own and watching him mount his banshee and fly off into the night. what a way to reenter your life—with words soaked in charm that gained favor with the clan to begin with; with a heartfelt and stubborn sincerity that made him olo'ekytan.

you shook your head to yourself, the smile he left you with refusing to leave your lips. the sounds of the night comforted you as you snuggled into katir's side, his throaty chirp joining pandora's symphony. you climbed onto his back and flew to norm's base for the night, having a feeling that it might be your last.

…

thanks for reading! <3 IT'S BEEN SO LONG so lmk if you wanted to be removed from the taglist :)

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce@strawbaerriesvt@avatar-lover@ryiana@lxon-kxnnedy@zukki33@chalahyung01@ssc7514@shmaptainbonky@aureolinb@whosbibi2000@childishname@nen-nyy@moonchildxoxx @hdjfvnd @spqrkles @bigchungusdrinksspritecranberry @avatar4eva @sleepykittycx @jackiehollanderr @lovelygirl8 @akiraxmoon @thebipi @ghouliazinterlude @just-pure-trash @krys0210

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pricegotmedickmatized · 3 days ago

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Gaz with his best friend, they’ve known each other since they were in diapers, their families have been neighbors since the dawn of time, every holiday and birthday and wedding and funeral and reunion of one of their families automatically invites the other’s

and Gaz is usually so good about smiling and nodding and behaving like a good, normal, well functioning person, pretending to be so well adjusted, just a Nice, Sweet, Good Guy. carries in his bestie’s grandmas groceries, driver her little brothers to football practice when her mom was busier than all hell at work, went to every single one of his besties band performances and orchestra accompaniment, eyes never on the opera unfolding on stage, but always on her and her alone, because he may pretend he’s just a well adjusted normal guy, but in his head? there’s this voice.

cw: manipulation, extremely possessive behavior, stalking (ish?), pervy behavior, gaslighting, manwhore Gaz, breeding kink? or possibly just Extra Strength Manipulation depending on how you wanna see it

also this got extremely long lmao sorry

in his head there is a fell voice telling him to sink his teeth into his best friends neck and never let go, keep her pinned on the goddamn ground beneath him so he can rut her like a fucking animal. it started small on a tropical vacation their families took together in their mid teens when he’d just figured out what his hand and his dick were for. and suddenly his dorky best friend was wearing bikinis, skin warm and gleaming with tanning lotion in the sun and he had to stay half in the water to hide how hard he always was around her

was easier to keep his cock under control when he noticed other people looking at her, but that voice in his head hissed that they wanted her too, they could see her, all her curves and her youth and her bright laughter and wanted it for themselves when it belonged to him, all of her belonged to him

it only got worse after that summer. he bided his time in a way, not making a concrete move on her, not yet, learning all he could about sex and pleasure and how to keep himself under control during it because he wanted her first time to be perfect, and he would make sure that her first time was with him. first, last, and all the times between. but even though she didn’t know she belonged to him yet, and even though he didn’t make that intention known to her, everyone else around them knew it. all the lads who tried to flirt with her after class got cornered in the halls or in the alleys on their route home, or if they didn’t get the message he’d be waiting in their bedrooms where they jerked off thinking about her, and very quickly all interested parties disappeared. leaving just Gaz.

Gaz who would walk her to every class and tell her jokes to make her laugh, sweet and attentive, giving her his jacket or holding her books and offering her some of his water to keep her hydrated on hot days, even while he had his head on a swivel for anyone he didn’t approve of being within ten feet of her. he’d chill out once he got his cock in her, probably. Gaz fucked lots of girls, but was clear with all of them it’d never be serious. he was gentle and charming enough none of them noticed they were being used, studied, and then discarded. all he needed from them was experience, research.

and gaz would hold her when she cried about no one asking her to a school dance, and how when she’d gotten her courage up to ask someone he actually ran away. gaz would kiss her cheek and rub her back, cuddling her close and grateful for the huge stuffed bear he’d won her last year at the summer fair that kept her from feeling his cock (hard, so hard because she was so close and smelled so good) and he’d tell her sweetly how all those guys were fools, any of them would be the luckiest man alive to go with her. why didn’t she just go with gaz, just have fun with him and forget about all of them, didn’t gaz always make sure she had a good time? didn’t he always take care of her?

he’d sneak into her room while pretending to use the bathroom during loud, rowdy group family dinners between their families, and he’d paw through her messy drawers, take quick pictures of her bras and the secret stash of smut books she’d stolen from her mother and stuffed beneath her bed, and every time he’d steal a panty from her drawer. and later that night he’d have it wrapped around his cock, leaking pre and grinding his teeth as he looked at all the pictures of her he’d taken: a blurry shot under her skirt, her ass in tiny shorts while she’d been sleeping in his bed, a zoomed in picture of her tits in a bikini top, the pictures of her naked and wet from her shower in her room he’d taken outsider her window since she never fixed the blinds after he’d carefully ruffled them to give him the perfect view inside.

cleaning his cum out of her panties in his sink by hand was a pain, but way preferable to the lecture from his mum when she’d caught him throwing a pair of girls underwear in with his laundry (he’d done his own laundry for years, thought there was no way his mum would catch him. wrong. he can’t imagine how much worse it woulda been if she’d known they were his best friends stolen without permission)

all in preparation for the day the two of them were home alone together, just before he was set to go off for training camp, and she sighed and asked him if he thought she was desirable. to which of course he told her honestly she was the most beautiful girl in the world, the way he always had since they were in a goddamn playpen together.

“No one else seems to think so. I’ve got friends and I know I should be happy with that, but I want…I want-”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“…I want a boyfriend.”

Gaz smirked, rising from his slump on the couch where he’d been watching her more than the movie on the screen, and he pressed his sudden advantage. watched her eyes get wide, her breath catch, the confusion pinching her brows even as her mouth parted, pupils dilating as he braced a hand on the back of the couch, the other on the arm behind her back, looming over her.

“That’s not what you want, is it, love?” against her ear as she trembled, breathing hard, “You wanna be fucked.”

“K-Kyle”

he sat back just as quick, smirking, keeping his eyes on her.

“I’d be happy to give you what you want.”

she gaped at him, face flushed, making a small sound of surprise when one of his hands dropped to her thigh, lightly tracing circles there.

“B-but…but I…you never…I’ve never-”

“I know, sweetheart.” a kiss to her temple, to distract her from his hand sliding beneath the hem of her skirt “but don’t I always take care of you? Who can you trust if not me, angel?” another kiss to her cheek, his fingers hooked in the fabric of her panties over her hip, tugging lightly. now that he’s this close to finally sinking inside that pretty pussy he feels like his control is slipping slightly. “Don’t I always make sure you have a good time? Let me make it good for you, sweetheart, prove how desirable you are.”

in less than two minutes her skirt’s flipped up, panties tucked into his pocket, her bra and shirt are on the floor, his hands are anchored on her thighs brushing the tender skin with hers in her hair and clutching the back of his neck and she’s screaming his name as she shakes apart and gives him her first orgasm with a partner on his tongue.

in ten minutes he’s got three fingers in her, his mouth fastened around her clit as she cums again slurring his name like an appeal to god as he hums, drunk off the honeyed taste of her cunt as he humps the cushions to give his cock some relief

relief that doesn’t come until he’s worked his cock balls deep, pouring praise all over her for every inch she takes “so pretty, baby, god, look at you, made to take this cock, feel so good, so tight, fuck, so fucking perfect, just a little bit more sweetheart, you can take a little more can’t you?” and goddamn she takes it so fucking good, fat tears sliding down her cheeks as he grinds the base of his cock against her clit, the head pressed tight against her cervix and he’s not wearing a condom

“Ky-Kyle, god, ah, s-so d-deep, fuck, but what, ah! You’re not wearing a, ah, ah!”

he doesn’t let her ask, just shushes her sweetly, catches her mouth in a kiss and swallows her protests as his hips start to roll. she’s even wetter than he dreamed, tighter, hotter, just fucking better, no other pussy he’s ever had could ever compare to her, and by god he’s going to keep his cock warm in this cunt for the rest of his life, get her as addicted to him as he is to her, and if he starts out by fucking her bareback and risky while she’s too horny to think about it (and ovulating, he’s got her cycle tracked on his phone) then that’s how he’ll get started

he’ll make it up to her in the morning after she passes out on her fourth orgasm, taking his second load in his bed. he’ll make her breakfast and ask her out on a proper date and she’ll say yes because she always says yes to what he asks her to do.

she’s such a good girl.

she’ll probably get pregnant too, and it’ll only take him his first three loads.

he kisses her slack mouth and groans as he fucks deep, his cum squelching around his cock, mixed with his saliva and her own wetness, sloppy wet and drooling out, dripping down his still far too heavy balls. he’s just gotta have her one more time. he’s waited so long to have her on her back in his bed like this, he’s gotta drain his balls dry, make sure his cum gets pumped deep into her womb to breed her up right. she’s so good for him, giving him everything he needs. she always does. this won’t be any different.

and he’ll take care of everything after this, sweetheart, just leave it to him

#call of duty modern warfare Kyle Gaz Garrick #cod gaz #call of duty gaz #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #I’m sure I’m missing a bajillion tags but fuck it I want this posted #Kyle Garrick I am in your fucking walls and I will be your wife #gaz x reader #gaz x you #gaz x y/n #roryswrites

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knowbites · 3 days ago

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　　　I GUESS I'M IN LOVE　　۶ৎ　　kim seungmin.

☕　────　you're everything that i want but i didn't think i'd find ..

⠀ ksm x f reader !⠀⠀6, 3 k.⠀⠀fluff, college au⠀⠀ 𓈀 ⠀⠀ wc.⠀⠀descriptions of social anxiety, getting drunk and kisses. this is based on a personal experience, but it's also based on the love of my life @skzms 's drabble "seungmin in love" which you should check out!

notes.⠀⠀i hope may doesn't mind i bring this back... on her bday <3 (and hour late but let's pretend) happy, happy bday mayy! my lovely teri asked me to post it again because she really liked it, so i saved it for your bday. i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this btw!

You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell.

The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows—hanging on every word, your heart racing restlessly. You hadn't known anyone among the crowd, and you had decided you would rather focus on the speech, secretly hoping some extrovert would adopt you, than take the first step and start an interaction with a stranger.

But making new friends wasn’t as easy as your high school besties, studying in another town, had made it sound.

You had been shy since you were a child, feeling a sense of panic creeping up your chest at the mere thought of you ending up alone but unable to do something about it, and you were incapable of approaching someone and starting a conversation from scratch. Your fear had always been a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled inside your ribcage, but at college it translated as the number one reason why you had ended up hiding in that lonesome table at the library during all your free hours, instead of hanging out with classmates.

Everyone was new in the first year, most of them didn't know anyone either, but unlike them, you had felt that an invisible wall separating you from them, preventing you from mingling with other students and interacting properly. Not that you wanted to—sometimes you thought you were better off alone, with your music and your inner peace—but there were times when the solitude became suffocating.

Until you met Kim Seungmin. Quiet boy with warm coffee gaze and broad shoulders, usually sitting in the front rows, focused on your professors’ words.

You hadn't spoken to him, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed, at the beginning. You were too scared, mind set on the classes to avoid noticing the silence that clouded your room, and he was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same degree as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his exasperation when the annoying student in the first line of desks made their trademark rancid comment. By late October, you hadn’t even known his name.

But eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, sitting alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with some music. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his shoulders, and a book in his hand—the same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.

And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were already a regular visitor of the silent place, always at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, ears covered by his black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat.

And then you had looked away, going on with your work.

It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't even know.

Right?

But the next day you repeated your little choreography, sitting opposite of each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection of your own, right in front of you, as if there was a mirror in the middle of the tables. And the next day, and the next, and the next... For weeks, until it became a habit between the two of you.

You would leave class a little late, too, just because you knew it took him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, a shy gentleman stopping in its tracks to let you in first, and you would smile sweetly at him. You would walk up to your designated table, and when you lent him the book you had used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in your lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.

Not a word, but you didn’t need them to feel at ease in each other’s company.

You were comfortable with your dynamic because you didn't think you had any expectations. You didn't think you did. But as the days went by, you started to find him among people even when you weren't looking for him. Your friends, with whom you exchanged text messages, encouraged you to say hello, to introduce yourself, making you think that he could really be interested in you. And you'd let them, flushing at the thought of it. Then exam season had come around, and you had locked yourself in your dorm room to study—realising, in his absence, the impact he had left on your heart.

In February, you returned to your routine. And instead of facing the feelings that had been blooming even before spring, you welcomed back the habits you had implemented with Seungmin, happy to find that the time apart hadn't changed them. You hadn't really made a move, neither of you, but you were alone in your little bubble, and so you continued to meet at your library spot.

But by the second semester, the people around you had already got used to college life. The one you saw in the movies, going out half the nights of the week, hanging out in large groups of friends in the evenings, complaining about professors and gossiping in class. That comfort, you discovered, meant that there were people who would try to make more friends, or seek out a college crush that would motivate them to romanticise their lives.

One of the last days of winter—when the weather got warmer but still rainy— you realised that there was another girl waiting for Seungmin at the end of your class. A more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher and had a bunch of cool friends she hung out with. You heard her asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building’s cafeteria. And your heart sunk in your chest.

You had been waiting for him, like you had learned to do, in the edge of the door—ready to shamelessly accompany each other to the next lecture—, but staying there while the girl flirted with him made you feel uneasy, like you were intruding in the intimacy of her charming smile and casual brushes of her hand on his arm. A creep, in the corridor, witnessing what you couldn’t have. What you would never be able to be like. So you had ended up leaving. Without him.

That had been the first day you had gone to the library alone since your non-arranged meetings had taken place there, and you’d had to open the door for yourself. It had hurt, somehow. Like a dog so used to having a delicious meal when the bell rang that he started to salivate at the sound of it. You had taken the same steps every day, stopped in the same spot and waited for him to open the door for you with that silly bow he always did.

But when you arrived at the door, your mind chose to forget how to wrap your hand around the handle. As if it wasn’t right because he was the one supposed to do it. Dragging yourself to a table that suddenly seemed emptier, you realised that you missed his smile. His steady presence, right by your side.

It hadn’t made sense, the way your heart jumped in your chest every time you noticed someone approaching your table. He was just a classmate. You hadn’t even talked that much, besides a quiet ‘Good morning’ and the usual nods of acknowledgement when you saw each other. Seungmin. The boy attending the same degree as you, another student in the faculty. But somehow you had grown accustomed to him as a constant—especially because there were so many absences in your life, it was easy to notice when he was gone.

And it had scared you. For a moment, thinking you had taken things way too far, that you had let the attachment blossom under your own watch. Wondering if it was unhealthy, the intensity, the muchness you carried with yourself. If you were somewhat broken, unable to keep normal relationships with the people around you, or it was just an illness you had no control over.

You had wished, as it usually happened, that you were braver.

Instead, the next day you skipped class.

A coward, really. You had only missed the class you knew you shared with Seungmin, and you had felt guilty enough. You'd gone to the interactive seminars without fail, your mind scattered and an emptiness in your chest, but you hadn't been able to purposely attend the same class as him. You would have felt compelled to talk to him, to greet him or ask him about the girl from the day before, and at the same time you hadn't felt able to deal with it. So you had spent the day thinking you were an absolute coward, not fully understanding why your brain worked the way it did.

But an afternoon of self-loathing and overthinking, curled up on the sofa in the common room of the dorm一all a wandering gaze and sad music playing softly in your headphones一, made you realise that you had gone numb. Stuck. For a long time, imprisoned in the confines of your own mind, shackled to what people could say about you and the overwhelming burden of failing. To avoid bothering or speaking out, to reduce yourself to a shadow of what you could be so that the people around you could shine brighter.

And it didn't seem fair at all.

So you had muttered a quiet ‘fuck it’ under your breath.

The following day, early in the morning, on the bus一on your way to class一, you had managed to gather the courage to talk to a boy. For the first time, and all by yourself. To that boy.

You had approached him before class, slipping into a seat one line forward of where he was, taking a deep breath of air and exhaling it as you had tried to keep your nerves under control, eyes tightly closed. With your pulse racing, you had turned, resting one of your hands on his desk and catching his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your tender bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.

Your words had been quick and breathy, stammering over possible coffees and shared hours, your eyes anywhere in the class but on his face. Your cheeks got incredibly heated when he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you had only interrupted the conversation when the teacher finally began the lesson, heart pounding against your ribcage.

But you had done it! Stepping out of your comfort zone, and risking your carefully threaded silence, your convenient and easy peace, just to approach someone. In return, you got the chance to spend time with Seungmin, and the exhilaration of a new achievement.

That was the first free hour of your strict schedule you had disrupted your way to the library in favour of a trip to the cafeteria. You had felt that warmish touch in your shoulder every time his had brushed yours, and a burst of pride inside your chest when you had realised you were finally enjoying something you had worked for—even if it was as silly as hanging out with a not so new friend.

You had heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting—his gaze tracing across the profile of your face—for you to ask for what you wanted. Then he had guided you to one of the tables at the back, letting you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred.

For a moment you had wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he actively thought of you as much as you had thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you had sighed, setting your bag down beside you, and intertwined your own fingers in a nervous gesture.

You had been the one to propose the plan, but you realised then that you had been so sure he would say ‘no’ that you hadn't planned any further.

You had wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word. At least until the waitress had appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You had uttered your own appreciation, no sound actually coming out of your throat, but the beginning of a smile tugged at your lips when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking you how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college, and how was life at your dorm.

And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your mouth had tightened, answering in few words and short sentences how your university experience had been going until then, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, painfully eager to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you had reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.

You had tried not to let it show, but the bitterness of the drink enveloped your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and when you looked back at Seungmin, you noticed he had been watching you like a hawk. He had tilted his head, almost like a puppy would have, and picked up the cup you had just set down, wetting his lips to taste it. He had opened his eyes slightly, almost comically, and muttered what you both were thinking: “This is not what you ordered.”

Then he had gotten up to go reclaim it.

You had felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier. She was surprised and certainly apologetic because of the confusion, and he had shared a complicit grin with you while she repeated the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place.

It had been Seungmin's gentle words when he finally returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had had at the tip of your tongue. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility—that the barista had mistaken the order—, but he had stood up for you because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.

“Thank you so much,” you had said, a shy smile curving your lips, brushing his knuckles with your fingers as you took the new mug. You had closed your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much, sighing dreamily against it. “You didn't have to.”

Spring was coming to an end, but the mornings were still tinged with a freezing air that bothered you, because you never knew what to wear to class—when you got out of the dorm it was cold, but as soon as midday struck, the sun heated more than usual. So you had told Seungmin when you had opened your eyes and realised that he had been watching you again, but you tried not to retreat into the bashfulness that had kept you from interacting with him for so long.

You had been ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.

After that moment, it had been relatively easy. The words had flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other’s gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language—a new person—, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone had started ringing, and you had realised you were late.

You had apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, and heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You had been surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you had looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He had mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his hand in response. It had been when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister for lunch, that you had realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.

Apparently, you hadn’t been the only one to think so.

The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you had arrived early. You had sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you had begun to doodle in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You had looked up, startled, until Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of asking if he could sit next to you, and you managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher had come through the door to start the class.

And it had been when you had barely been able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleepy state, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You had turned slightly, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You had opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn’t even bother to suppress the grin that curved your lips as you read a tight “Can I have your phone number?” in his collected handwriting.

You had written it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You had nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, parting ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You had grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture.

At least until twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.

from: unknown number: hey, is it true that mr choi’s classes are soo boring? or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?

The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about his classes to Seungmin, and the unknown number had to be him. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice, and typed in the answer:

from: me mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact they wouldn’t be boring if you were here

from: seungmin 🫶🏼 naah, i bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them

from: me you can't use my own sentence as an answer that's like cheating

from: seungmin 🫶🏼 would it be cheating if i bribe you with another cup of hot chocolate?

from: me whatever you say, lover boy

You had tried to imagine Seungmin’s reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of his class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your entire day.

From then on, you continued to develop your friendship, intertwining yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. You shared more hours in the library, actually talking in between classes—in between and during classes—, and even hanging out together in some afternoons, when the summertime was closer and you ignored the upcoming exams with his guitar and iced tea in the park.

You too learned to enjoy the revising period leading up to the finals season, by exchanging knowing glances and turning boring lessons into jokes. You left your quiet table for the privacy of your dorm room, and he became comfortable enough to stop acting shy and feel like in his own home. You helped each other take breaks when the stress got too much, and explained what you knew better if the other one couldn’t quite understand the subject. He was the perfect study partner, and it had reflected in your grades, none of which had dropped below a C.

At the end of finals, once you had finished your second term and the beginning of your degree at college, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He wanted to properly celebrate a successful academic year, and excused himself for not inviting them—he wasn’t ashamed of you, he just hadn't wanted them to say anything stupid in front of you.

But you hadn’t missed them, and neither did he. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, his neck flushed and his eyes shying away from your figure when he realised the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely, flirting non-stop. It had been a memorable night, though you hadn’t kept a lot of memories, just inebriated snippets. When three in the morning struck, he was the one who escorted you to your dorm, just to make sure you got there safely, and you had been the one who drunkenly begged him to stay with you.

He woke up in the same bed as you, limbs intertwined, and almost dizzy at the softness of your skin against his.

The following summer break had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a couple of months of relaxation back with your family, although you did text weekly to each other with updates about your lives. But September started, and when the second semester began, it did so with many hours of late arrivals to class—something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company and because of him.

You would gather together as soon as you arrived at the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance—him sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing. It always startled you, the high pitched, thundering sound, and you would always run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher.

You had learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Hovering behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.

And in the free hours you had gotten to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time had been in a class that had been cancelled last minute, on your way to the library, when you had seen Seungmin’s silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You had felt a little bit awkward at first, but still greeted them both—the short boy and the narrowed-eyed one—with a bashful smile, before asking them if they would let you sit in the chair by Seungmin’s side.

You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you had shaken the creepy feeling out of your body. You had stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother—teasing him to death. And from then on you had always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.

Your easiness with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, had solidified at about the same time you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you had tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the academic year, you had begun to participate in more conversations with his friends, becoming a little bit more social around them, and even actively participating in class, interacting with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop.

You had noticed Seungmin had been turning somewhat distant, but with your mandatory Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee dates—hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again—, you assumed he had simply decided that he had more priorities, or had found himself so comfortable in your presence he didn't feel he had to contact you every second of his day. You were fine with having any part of him he decided to share with you.

At least until the beginning of your third year, the night of Minho’s birthday celebration. That October night you arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, giving a high five to Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a tight hug.

You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because of a joke you two had, and Minho’s genuine reaction to the gift was to stand up, take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giddily giggling.

You remembered that he had told you he couldn’t wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you commented that it was a crime for him to be all alone at the end of the table on such a special day. With that excuse, you sat next to him, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair, keeping you in his embrace.

At one point, after the whole group had gathered, during the dinner, when you followed Minho’s unfocused gaze directed at Seungmin, you discovered such a hard acrimony in his usually warm coffee eyes that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.

After that weird, tense moment, he didn't approach you during what was left of the night, not even to accompany you home, like he usually did.

You tried to talk to him about what had happened the next day, texting him when you woke up in your bed and he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would have been curled up against one of your pillows, didn't even bother to answer your message.

When you asked him again in the middle of the corridor, at the faculty, before a class you two didn't even share, you got no answer. You saw him building up anger and complex emotions inside, his narrowed eyes as transparent with his emotions as he usually was, but he refused to utter a word, leaving you to attend your lecture.

The absence of that trust you had thought you shared broke your heart.

And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had organised—Thursdays were his favourite days to go out—still frowning. He arrived at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table.

That was the second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other. You thought you shouldn't have been so sickenly desperate for his attention, so instead of begging for it, you just ordered a drink.

After the first sip, they just kept on coming.

You pretended not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it seem real. But then that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, and the same wide smile he reserved just for you… So you decided that knowing that you were willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it.

He took you to the dance floor, his polite hands sticking to holding you by your waist, and swayed to the rhythm of the music, his body pressed to yours. You pretended, again, it was him, and not this boy you couldn't even remember the name of. He was nice and gentle, and you had drunk a little bit too much, so when he slid his hands to your hips, and his mouth hovered dangerously close to yours, you couldn't help but allow it.

You exhaled a laugh over his lips, beaming smile under the coloured lights of the pub, and even though his body didn't feel right pressed to yours—it wasn't Seungmin's—you opened your mouth unders his when he kissed you, messy and hungry, and you kissed him back just as eagerly.

But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. He really wasn’t him, even if you had tried to pretend it did, and all the suppressed feelings flooded off you, eyes drawing in unshed tears.

You had apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smirk, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the tragic pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, trying to understand if he had crossed a line with you, if you were okay.

All you had managed to do was deny, before drunkenly asking him to take you home.

It was a terrible night. For you, crying for a certainty that felt heavy in your heart, throwing up until the first lights of dawn, and for him, who stayed and nursed you to sleep. And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.

Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, as he hadn't been since Minho's birthday, but you sat down to wait for him anyway—just in case. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, hungover, like a ghost wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door of the class. You paid no attention to his words, sitting down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as it was over.

You skipped the next one. It wasn't responsible, you knew, but it hadn't been responsible either to go to a pub on a weekday, and you had still attended to Jeongin's invitation. If the consequences to your actions were going to be going back to your dorm to sleep some more, you were glad to comply.

The quietness of the library sounded good, too, but it held too many memories.

So you put on your headphones, drowning the background noises to nothingless. And you wandered back to your dorm, weighted steps over the pavement, gaze sliding around the landscape… Until you saw him.

With his navy blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him in some chilly afternoons. He was going to class, you supposed, when you made eye contact with him. But you forced yourself to ignore him, continuing on your way.

You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had avoided you, even when you had asked him why, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went upstairs in your building, the necessity to get as far as possible from him bubbling in your chest, walking through the doors of the elevator.

You knew he had followed you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.

Until you heard him.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped dead in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination.

You took your headphones out, letting them rest around your neck, and looked at him—watched his expression. But his kicked out, glassy eyes were a reflection of how you actually felt, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, and brows pitched.

You didn't feel as hungover anymore.

‘Ding!’

You reacted before the doors of the elevator closed, pressing the button on the panel, and took a trembling step out of it, into the hallway.

He looked tortured. His cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know everything you could think was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you doubted he could feel towards you, like you hung the stars in the sky. But you had heard him.

Had you?

“What do you mean you love me?” you asked, and you hated the way your voice quivered.

“Don't—” he said, and he paused, like he knew he could mess everything up in seconds. “I love you. I hadn't realised, or maybe I did, but I hadn't accepted it until a couple of weeks ago.”

“What—”

“I love you, and I'm sorry because I've been an asshole about it, and you didn't deserve it,” he added, interrupting you. You shut your mouth, trying to understand what he was implying. “I got so jealous… When—You spent the whole night with him, and he did it on purpose, and I couldn’t—And then you kissed him and I—I didn't know what to do with what I felt about it—About you.”

He locked his eyes with yours, and he looked so broken it was almost tragic. But you were putting together the pieces of his improvised, chaotic speech—he was talking about Minho, about you, about you two—, and you couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips.

You nodded, taking a step towards him.

He seemed frozen in the middle of the hall, frozen as you approached him, air caught at his throat as you slid a hand over his shoulder, like you always did before hugging him. You looked up, innocent beam in you eyes, and whispered into the shell of his ear:

“I love you too.”

His breath hitched, your mouth close to the corner of his lips, and his heartbeats quickened under your hand as you rested it on his chest, mirroring yours.

And then you kissed him. Eyes closed, devouring his sweet sighs as he pressed you to his body, backpack long forgotten on the floor. You kissed him, and his relieved smile, as you grinned into his mouth, sliding your hand up until you buried it into his hair. And he took you by your waist, and he hummed into you, and you breathlessly giggled when he pushed you into the wall at your back.

“I love you too,” you repeated, kissing him again and again, and you couldn't understand his answer but his lips were over yours again, carving those three words into your mouth.

ㅤㅤwith love ,　© mars.　do not copy, translate, repost, share this work as yours on other platforms or feed it to the ai !　🔭 ˚. ⋆͏

#WRITTEN BY⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@ 𝑘now𝑏ites.#𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 💻 oneshots.#[ 📁 . kim seungmin ]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabble #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin #seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff

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all444glo · 1 day ago

Text

SATIVA

summary: i’m ngl this is porn with plot LMAO

warnings: 18+, judes an eater, praise kink central

You were excited to see Jude.

It hadn’t even been that long since you’d seen him, but when you loved someone the way you loved Jude, every day apart felt like a week. He rarely made it out to the States during the season, and when he did, it was quick—just long enough for a dinner, maybe a night together, and then he was gone again. You loved how much he thrived in Madrid, but you hated that you couldn’t show him your side of things like he showed you his.

Fortunately for you—unfortunately for him—Real didn’t make it all the way this year. Knocked out of Champions League, no trophies to bring home. He wouldn’t say it, but you knew it crushed him. Still, it meant he had almost a month free before heading back to Europe for pre-season training. And you were going to make every day of it count.

You wore a red tight silk dress, strapless, soft against your skin and clinging to all the right places. You cooked for him, too—baked chicken, mac and cheese, greens, cornbread. Real soul food. Stuff he’d only ever seen online and begged you to make. You liked taking care of him like this, especially when it reminded him of what home could feel like, even far away from it.

But your final surprise? That was sitting on the coffee table.

A perfectly rolled blunt. Yours.

Jude had mentioned it a few times—joking about how he’d never smoked, not even in England. Between drug testing and being in the spotlight, he never took the risk. But here, in Chicago, off-season, tucked away in your apartment? It felt safe. And something about the idea of him being high for the first time around you made you curious.

You had music playing—smooth R&B in the background—and the scent of dinner filled the space when he finally knocked at your door.

You opened it before he could even knock again. “Hey, baby.”

He smiled, his boyish grin that still made your chest flutter. “My shaylaaa,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. He lifted you off the ground with ease, kissing the side of your face as your dress rode up. “You look... wow.”

You flushed a little, hiding your smile in his neck. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” He stepped in and froze the second he saw the table. “No way you made all this.”

“I told you I got you.”

He set his bag down, still taking it all in, then noticed the blunt.

He looked at you, half surprised, half impressed. “You serious?”

You nodded. “Only if you want to.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Let’s do it.”

You watched Jude fumble with the blunt, his long fingers awkward as hell around it. He rotated it and inspected it, as if he was holding some kind of alien technology. “Jude why would you have me light this shit if you’re just gonna stare at it.” You said slightly getting irritated, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t smoking anymore cause you sure were. Jude mean mugged you as he took a deep drag, held it in like he was trying to prove something, then let out this sharp cough that caught you off guard.

“Oi, that burns,” he muttered, voice rough, eyes watering.

You smirked, handing him a glass of water. “God don’t like ugly.”

He rolled his eyes as took a slow sip, then blinked a few times, trying to focus. “I’m feelin’... a bit dizzy. Like my mouth’s on fire, but my head’s floaty?”

You laughed softly. “That’s to be expected honey, you clearly got yourself a little buzzed”

He slumped back on the couch, blinking like he was trying to process a million thoughts. “ Not really—this one hit is barely doing anything.”

You nudged him playfully. “You’re a big guy, Jude. Over six foot, what, 220? One hit ain’t finna get you rapper high.”

He groaned, sliding down further, hair tousled, cheeks flushed from the cough. “Feel like I’m on a boat. Sea’s moving, but no engines yet.”

You took the blunt from him and took a few puffs, already feeling your eyes get heavier and heavier. The familiar high creeping in on you, you took another puff once again and motioned for Jude to come closer. You kissed Jude, exhaling all the smoke from your mouth into his. You could tell he was surprised but it only got him higher. You didn’t even need the weed, your presence made him dizzy enough.

You laughed harder as you pulled away, he looked incredibly dazed. “You gonna be alright?”

He looked over at you, eyes glassy but mischievous. “I don’t know, babe. I think I wanna... I don’t know how to say this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

He cleared his throat, voice a little shaky, “I wanna eat you out. Like, really —’cause I feel like I need to focus on somethin’ other than this dizzy nonsense. You get me?”

You bit your lip, surprised but amused. “You’re all hot and bothered already? Thought that would’ve came later in the night…”

“Shut up,” he said, sitting up straighter, fingers twitching. “I swear, if I don’t get my hands on you, I might pass out. You look so good, I can’t think straight.”

You smiled, sliding closer. “Who knew weed turned you into an eater”

He chuckled, voice soft, “Am I not an “eater” any other time?”

You reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it gently. “I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this, you’re usually not this excited to eat it”

“Love what are you talking about, i’ve literally ripped the gym shorts off of you and ate you in my kit—“

You promptly stood up, tugging him with you toward the bedroom, the haze around him making every step feel a little surreal.

Once inside, he dropped his bags, eyes wide as he took in the sight of you—your dress clinging to your curves, the candlelight casting soft shadows.

“Fuck, y/n, you look—wow,” he whispered, voice cracking just a bit.

You chuckled, walking over slowly, hand trailing down his arm. “You said that already”

“I know,” he admitted, teeth clenching for a moment. “Every time I look at you I remember how much I wanna taste you.”

You laughed softly, the way he said it was so genuine it made your heart flutter.

“Alright,” you said, “but you gotta tell me if you need a break, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly, voice low and needy. “Promise.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him down with you. His breath hitched as your hands traced the line of his jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured.

He swallowed, eyes darkening, “I want to make you feel good. I wanna make you cum everyday i’m here.”

You smiled, heart speeding up. “Cmon.”

Your voice was soft but steady as you guided him down between your legs, the silk of your dress rising inch by inch until the back of it kissed your hips. Jude knelt on the floor, fingers pressing into the meat of your thighs like he needed to hold on to something real. His eyes moved slowly, drinking you in like he’d never seen anything so divine.

“You sure?” you asked, the teasing laced in your tone, but your heart still beat hard against your chest.

“I’m not stopping, y/n,” he said, gaze locked on yours. “Not until you’re shaking”

You blinked down at him, lips parting slightly. Something about the way he said it… that slow, quiet confidence… made your stomach twist. His hands ran up your thighs, slow and steady, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your underwear.

“Let me have it,” he whispered. “Been thinking about this all flight—he’ll even during my games Don’t make me beg.”

You laughed, just barely. “I thought this was the begging.”

“Not yet,” he murmured, voice low and rich, mouth moving close enough that you felt the heat of his breath through the fabric. “But I can & I will.”

Then he kissed over the cotton between your legs, like it was holy. Once. Twice. His lips moved deliberately, mouthing you slow through the softness, and your hips twitched before you even realized you were reacting. His eyes flicked up, watching the way your head tilted back slightly, mouth parting.

He smiled.

“Yeah,” he cooed, “just like that.”

His fingers curled around the waistband and you lifted your hips to help him, your panties sliding down your legs and tossed aside. Then came the pause — Jude just stared for a moment. Blinking. Lips parted. A breath caught in his throat.

“My lord,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

Your legs shifted slightly, unsure what to do with all that attention, but his hands were quick to press your thighs apart again.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said softly. “Let me see you.” Then his tongue was on you. He started slow, so slow it nearly drove you insane. He was gentle at first, tentative — tasting, exploring. You could feel the way he adjusted, learning your reactions, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be. His tongue traced slow circles, then flattened against your clit, dragging up deliberately. Your hips bucked just slightly as he chuckled against you

“There she is,” he murmured, breath hot against your slick. “Y’like that?” “Mmhm,” you breathed, hand sinking into his curls. “That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, voice thick with hunger. “Give me more. Need all of it.”

Your thighs tried to close around his head, but he kept them spread, arms locked around them as he dove in deeper, tongue flicking in tighter patterns now, confident.

He moaned into you, low and guttural — and that almost sent you over. The vibrations rocked through your core and your hands gripped his hair tighter.

“Jude—shit—right there—don’t stop—” He groaned again like he loved the way you said his name. Then he pulled back just a little, letting his fingers glide into you, one at first, then two, slow and steady as his mouth came back to your clit. Your body arched up into him, eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he grunted, kissing you messily. “You’re squeezing my fingers like youn want me to come out.”

You whimpered — it was all too much. His voice, his mouth, the pace he’d set.

“I could eat you for hours, y’know that?” he said, licking slow up your center again. “I could’ve done it the first night I met you.”

“You didn’t even know me back then—” you choked out, laughing breathlessly.

“I knew,” he said, voice hard now, tongue teasing your clit again. “I knew I wanted you like this. Mouth full of you. Hands holding you open. You makin’ those pretty sounds.”

Your legs started to tremble and he noticed immediately, never letting up, never losing rhythm.

“Yeah… you’re close, huh?” he said, lips glistening, tongue relentless. “Come on, y/n. Don’t hold back. Let me feel it.”

“Jude—fuck—I’m gonna—”

You fell apart then, hips jerking, a moan tearing from your throat so raw and loud it made the windows shake. Jude didn’t stop — not right away. He kept licking until your legs were twitching and you had to physically push his head back, breathless and dazed.

When he pulled away, his lips were swollen, chin slick with you, and the look in his eyes?

Starved.

You stared at him, chest heaving. “You okay?”

He nodded, crawling up toward you, hovering above. “Still hungry,” he admitted, smiling. He kissed your lips slow and deep.

“Still hungry? You’re insane” You said as your body still trembled faintly. You laid back on the bed, legs loose and splayed, your chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths. Jude’s weight shifted beside you, but he didn’t say anything at first — just watched you like he didn’t quite believe what he’d just done. Or what you let him do.

You turned your head slowly, catching the awe in his expression.“You alright?” you asked, voice soft and hoarse, lips curling gently. He nodded, licking his lips absently, still tasting you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I’m good… better than good. You?”

You chuckled a little, brushing sweat-damp hair off your forehead. “Amazing’.”

That made him laugh, the tension cracking a bit. You sighed, letting your fingers spread across his skin, your nails tracing lazy shapes near his collarbone. “You did good, Jude. Real good.”

He smiled at that — not cocky, but quietly proud. “Didn’t hurt, right?” he asked gently. “I wasn’t too rough?” You shook your head. “You are a good eater, I tell you this every time”

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, then your neck — slow, lingering kisses that felt more like thank yous than anything else.

“Come up here,” you murmured, tugging lightly on his arm until he laid fully beside you, chests pressed together. His skin was still warm from the rush, muscles soft now, loose and pliant.

You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, your arm resting across his waist as his fingers drew slow circles on your back.

“You still high?” you asked quietly, your breath ghosting over his throat.

“A little,” he confessed, chuckling. “Everything feels... floaty. Warm. Like I’m wearing a blanket made out of you.”

You laughed into his skin. “That’s so corny.”

“You love it.”

You sighed into him, letting the comfort settle. “Yeah. I do.”

His hand found yours again under the sheets, fingers lacing together. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “About wanting to make you cum every day I’m here.”

You hummed softly. “We’ll see if you keep that energy tomorrow.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, voice dropping just slightly again. “But right now… can I just hold you?”

You nodded into his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

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itoshiierae · 1 day ago

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Hii i LOVE ur writing sm ugh!!!! i also have a req so pls hmo.. (I thhink this would look good in headcanon format) so ur describing ur type to them(u both have crushes on each other) and its the exact opposite of them, but in the end u tell them u were just joking and that they are ur type

I rlly wanna see this with Bachira, Barou, Gagamaru, Chigiri and maybe pre wc Kunigami<33

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ not your type (except… maybe he is) 𓂃⋆.˚

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: bachira meguru, barou shoei, gagamaru gin, chigiri hyoma & (pre-wc)kunigami rensuke

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hii there and aww thank you!!! 🥹🩷 anyway, this was sooo much fun to write omg. i loved the chaos of making them spiral a little before giving them the relief they deserve HAHAH <33 btw i tried doing this in headcanon format like you requested!!! c:

ᡣ𐭩 cw: mutual pining, light angst ( but fluffy ending! ), light teasing, barou might seem ‘harsh’, mentions of body type and appearance preferences, eventual fluff

♡ BACHIRA MEGURU ♡

𖦹 you say it without thinking, “i like quiet, serious guys. y’know, mysterious types who barely smile.”

𖦹 and he just… freezes. like straight up stops swinging his legs, leans back slowly, blinks at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline.

𖦹 “so like… not me?” his voice goes all awkward and small, like he’s trying so hard to sound chill but he’s already spiraling inside.

𖦹 he starts sulking. draws a sad little monster on the table with his finger — doesn’t say anything. doesn’t make eye contact. just wilts in real time like you personally broke his spirit. won’t even look up when you call his name — just keeps doodling his tragic little guy, like he’s going through a breakup you didn’t know you were part of.

𖦹 so obviouslyyy, you push him a little further by saying: “no offense, but you literally talk to your shoes when you’re bored.”

𖦹 after hearing that, he looks genuinely offended. like his jaw slightly dropped, blinking at you as if you just told him his dog ran away and then he turns back to his little monster drawing & makes it even sadder.

𖦹 you let the tension simmer for just a second more, then finally crack a smile, laughter curling at the edges of your voice. “i’m just messing with you... you’re totally my type.”

𖦹 he pauses — stunned — like he seriously didn’t expect you to say that out loud. the sad monster he’d drawn???? now suddenly has hearts for its eyes. “you little liar,” he whispers, fighting a smile. “say it again.”

𖦹 and when you do??? he throws himself at you in a hug and won’t let go for like another 3 hours.

♡ BAROU SHOEI ♡

𖦹 it starts with a joke you didn’t mean to land: “… y’know i like laid-back guys who are chill & someone who doesn’t care too much about appearances.”

𖦹 he deadass stops mid-sip of his overpriced protein shake and just blinks at you like you spoke a forbidden language.

𖦹 his eye twitches like you’ve just personally disrespected his gym splits, his skincare, and the 17-step hair routine he claims he doesn’t have. “…what the hell did you just say?”

𖦹 “wait so… you seriously want a guy who doesn’t groom himself!!?” he mutters, practically spiraling, listing off how those kinds of men probably don’t floss, don’t moisturize, and — with full offense — are just plain disgusting. “low standards,” he scoffs, as if you were the one who needed to reevaluate your life.

𖦹 he’s seething on the outside, sulking on the inside — muttering that ‘you just don’t know what’s good for you.’

𖦹 so after dragging it out justtt enough, you laugh and reassure him, “i’m joking. i actually like guys who take care of themselves…. that means you’re exactly my type, barou...”

𖦹 he immediately scoffs. clicks his tongue and then glares at you before saying, “tch... you better not say stupid shit like that again.”

𖦹 but he’s blushing all the way down to his collarbone. half-hiding behind his protein shake like it could shield his pride. you could tell that his entire mental system just crashed, and you know he’s probably gonna replay this moment mid-set at the gym later, scowling while angrily curling dumbbells.

♡ GAGAMARU GIN ♡

𖦹 “i like pretty boys... yknow, those that are skinny, delicate, almost as if the wind could carry them away….” it slips out mid-convo, lighthearted and harmless

𖦹 or so you think. you don’t mean it seriously. it’s just a throwaway preference, a passing comment you figured he wouldn’t take personally

𖦹 but gagamaru pauses mid-sip of his drink and then glances down at his six-foot-something wall of a body, the kind that could body slam a tree and he’d probably win.

𖦹 then he looks at his hands — big, calloused, rough — almost as if they’ve betrayed him. you watch in real time as his soul briefly leaves his body.

𖦹 and worst of all? he’s not even sulking. he’s just… solemn. he stares straight into the void and mutters under his breath, “guess i’ll go learn ballet or something…”

𖦹 you panic because no way??? he’s not even joking. the man is spiraling, full gentle-giant overthinking mode unlocked, and you’re scrambling to stop him before he ACTUALLY signs up for a modern dance elective.

𖦹 you laugh, reach for his hand, and lean in just enough to murmur,“…gagamaru, no. i was only teasing… you’re exactly my type.”

𖦹 he immediately freezes like someone just pressed pause on him. and then, slowly, the softest smile unfurls across his face. it’s not his usual blank-faced calm — this one’s hopeful, warm, basically the kind that makes you want to melt into his hoodie and never leave.

𖦹 his voice cracks faintly. “you’re serious?” like he’s trying to hold back the smile tugging at his lips, just in case it’s a joke.

𖦹 afterwards he lets out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding, then starts grinning — all goofy charm and too-big emotions crammed into one oversized frame. “okay. good. ’cause i was about to buy eyeliner.”

♡ CHIGIRI HYOMA ♡

𖦹 “i’m into super tall, muscular guys. yknow like those bodybuilder types….” you say it without thinking — casual, teasing, maybe even just to see his reaction. but the moment those words leave your mouth??? oh, you’ve just triggered something in him.

𖦹 chigiri immediately stopped whatever he was doing initially. his expression doesn’t even change at first — he just freezes. and then: “…so you’re saying… you want a guy who can squat me?”

𖦹 his voice came out flat. unimpressed. offended on behalf of every race he’s ever run. “yeah, basically,” you say, just to be annoying.

𖦹 he side-eyes his own legs like they’ve failed him. and the fact that they’ve carried him through national matches & broken records — but apparently, they’re not ‘squat-my-girl’ worthy. “i could sprint you into the next century,” he mutters under his breath, “but okay.”

𖦹 he starts tying and untying his ponytail, trying to look all unbothered — but you can clearly see the crack in his cool facade. the silent fluster. the subtle pout. the internal monologue of ‘so what if i’m not six-foot-five? i have definition. i have stamina. i have quads built by god.’

𖦹 “… you really like those types, huh?” he asks it too casually — like a test. almost as if he wants to see if you’ll actually say it again.

𖦹 satisfied with his reaction, that’s when you finally lean in and say: “not really... i actually like pretty, fast guys with killer legs… so you’re literally my type, hyoma.”

𖦹 he malfunctions on the spot. tries to play it cool, but fails miserably. then he mumbles something like, “…tch. whatever.” but his ears??? red. his neck??? flushed. his hands??? suddenly became too fidgety… and the second you’re not looking? he’s smiling to himself like an idiot the entire day.

𖦹 later that night, he sends you a post-workout mirror selfie. shirt half-damp, towel slung over his shoulder, muscles flexing just right with the caption that reads “still not tall enough?”

𖦹 and you???? you almost combust on the spot.

♡ KUNIGAMI RENSUKE ♡

𖦹 “…honestly, i like bad boys. cocky, unhinged, the kind that makes your friends worry.” you say it with a grin — playful, but laced with just enough bite to make him pause. and kunigami???? oh, he takes it personally.

𖦹 “so someone like… barou?” he doesn’t even say it sarcastically. it’s genuine confusion like he’s already doing mental gymnastics trying to understand how you ended up liking the complete opposite of everything he is. and then it begins — the spiral.

𖦹 he starts listing his own good qualities like you’re about to file a complaint: “i cook. i clean. i floss. i don’t fight strangers unless i’m legally allowed to. i hold doors open for people—”

𖦹 and then his voice just trails off and he immediately goes quiet like something in him just deflated a little.

𖦹 “…guess i’m not your type, then.” he says it so softly it actually hurts a little.

𖦹 until you lean in and say with a small, almost mischievous smile, “nah… i was just messing with you.” and then — without even letting him recover — you drop the real one: “i actually like guys with strong morals. and a killer body. and guess what???? that’s literally you.”

𖦹 you could’ve SWEAR that the sunlight got brighter after that. he blinks at you — once, twice, mouth slightly parted like he genuinely didn’t expect that coming from you.

𖦹 “…wait. wait you’re serious?”

𖦹 you nod, and that’s when he turns red. not just a light blush — but full on red, ears and neck included. he immediately looks away, trying to hide it by adjusting his hoodie like it’s a shield.

𖦹 “…thanks.” he mumbles. “that means a lot.” and for the rest of the day, his smile got a little brighter. and he also flexes his biceps a bit more than usual during workouts. just in case you’re still watching (which you are.)

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justevelynnnn · 1 day ago

Text

Just helping a friend

Summary: Rex had offered to “help” you out after you broke up with Mark. So, now you’re at his door at 2am.

Pairing: Rex Splode x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI🔞, Smut, oral (male receiving), PiV, cûmshot mentioned, profanity

A/N: This is my first Rex fic. We love Rex over here. He’s so cocky I love it. I also need him carnally.

Anyways, the reader is implied to be part of the guardians and has powers but it’s not specified what kind so go crazy. Also, Mark kinda sucks in this universe.

You didn’t know why the fuck you were here.

This was just so stupid.

You broke up with Mark a month ago and you were having dick withdrawals a week in.

Rex noticed when he saw you looking stressed one day and joked about “helping you”, but you just told him to piss off. Called him a man whore and to get out of your face.

He laughed and just told you that you knew where to find him.

Whatever.

Right?

Okay, then why were you here? Knocking at his door at fucking 2am? In a long tshirt with no panties on?

You couldn’t even answer when he opened the door and you really couldn’t say anything when he stood there smirking either. Hell, you wanted to slap him and run off, but who were you kidding. At this point, a dick is a dick.

“So……” He started. You could tell he wanted you to admit you needed him.

You weren’t gonna beg.

He looked half asleep, hair down which was a rare slight in itself, and loose pjs that just consisted of a shirt and shorts. The hair being down though almost made your heart skip a beat.

“So, nothing. Let me in.” You muttered, but he didn’t move.

“Nuh-uh! Tell me why you’re here baby.” He teased while he crossed his arms and leaned close to your face. You just wanted to slap him. So, so bad.

“Rex. Let me make this clear. I’m not gonna beg you, and you should be happy i’m even considering this shit. Don’t make me change my mind.”

He scoffed and stepped aside. “Fine. But don’t forget you came to me.”

You walked in his room as he closed the door and immediately took notice of all the empty soda cans, dirty clothes and posters of half naked women on his walls. And then the smell of weed hit your nose. You knew robot would freak if he saw the state of this room and almost giggled.

“Um, your room sucks.” You say dryly. You wanted to avoid jumping to the point on why you were here, but you could tell you wouldn’t be able to stall for long with how he was looking at you.

“Wanna know what else sucks?”

You almost didn’t answer. But out of curiosity…

“What.”

“That mouth in a minute.” He smiled a shit eating grin. Your heart fluttered but you ignored it.

“Die.” You spat and immediately pretended to get ready to leave but he stopped you.

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry. Dick move…wrong kind of dick move anyways.”

“Stop with the jokes Rex. Are you gonna be serious about this is or not?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You stood by his bed and looked around once more. You wondered if it would really be worth it. You prayed it wouldn’t cause Rex to get the wrong idea too. You guys were just friends. Just friends…

“So…you probably know why i’m here…”

“For a dick appointment.” He said smiling again.

You rolled your eyes.

“This means nothing. I swear it Rex.” You pointed at him to make a point and tried to look stern, but, god, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to hurry up and satisfy this itch inside you.

He didn’t say anything for a minute but just kept smiling.

“Rex!”

“I know, geez. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well, swear it then. Or you don’t get this. I don’t care, I know you’ve been trying to fuck me since forever.” You sighed. That last part was a fib. You didn’t know that but it sure felt like it sometimes.

“I swear I won’t tell anyone. And, i know it doesn’t mean shit when we’re done.” He dramatically expressed, hand on his heart and all.

“Just sex?”

“Yup.”

“Okay….” You sighed.

Now this is the awkward part…getting to the sex.

“Soooo…”

“This was your idea, dude.” You crossed your arms and looked at the ground. Looking into his eyes were impossible now.

He shifted towards you, but you still refused to look at him. Once in front of you he put a hand on your shoulder so you could kneel in front of him and suddenly a strong hand lifted your head and you were looking into his eyes once more. They looked different oddly enough. Already clouded with lust. Who was this?

“I think we should put this pretty mouth to work first…”, he mumbled softly. His gazed shifted towards your lips as a finger slipped inside and honestly who were you not to suck it? At this point why not?

It was hard to ignore his growing bulge especially when it was right in front of your face. It was harder not to palm it through his loose pj shorts.

You started sucking his finger eagerly as you looked into his eyes. The more you rubbed his clothed cock, and the more he bit his lip and groaned.

He pulled his finger out of your mouth slowly, and you let a “pop” sound out. He didn’t take his eyes off of you while he moved to pull his shorts and boxers down simultaneously. His gazed shifted towards on you was heavy as you proceeded to yank off your shirt to reveal you bare chest to him. Really it was all of you that was bare since it was the only thing you had on. He groaned.

He stroked himself slowly to the sight. “Fuck.”

“You like what you see?” You teased cupping your breasts.

“Are you kidding me? When wouldn’t I?”

You giggle as you leaned forward to wrap a hand around him. He fits in your hand almost perfectly, nice and thick. A prominent vein runs up the side beautifully and his flushed tip is already oozing with pre.

“I hate how pretty your dick is.” You whined before licking the underside slowly. Then you licked and teased his tip a bit earning you a delicious, deep moan. Rex never responded to this but a hand held the back of your head as you started to suck gently. You wasted no time blowing him just to hear him more.

If you knew this is the only way to shut Rex up you would’ve suck him off ages ago.

You started to deep throat him over time while you rubbed in his thighs. Your jaw was starting to ache after a while and your throat was tired. He was big enough to hit the back of your throat each time.

You looked up at him a few times and each time he was looking right back at you. Face reddened, but his eyes filled with hunger and desire. He watched you intensely as you tried to give him the best head ever. He watched as spit dripped from your chin and how your pretty eyes watered.

This ordeal didn’t last long. He started to damn near face fuck you as he got closer to finishing, and you had to pull away. You felt him twitching in your mouth and after being with Mark you knew it meant he was going to finish very, very soon.

“Hey, I did not agree to swallowing cum tonight.” You blinked at him. He just groaned, most likely out of frustration, but said nothing.

You got on the bed and you both moved silently. You noted Rex’s lack of immature jokes and jabs since starting this. His new serious persona almost gave you butterflies. You’re were so used to him just cracking jokes, but now…now he’s so focused on you. All of you. The way you moved. The way each curve of your body was on you.

His bed creaks as he gets on top of you. A quick wet kiss is pressed against your neck then another on your collarbone. He kissed you like you were fragile. Big hands hold you in place on each side of your hips.

“You ready?” He asked huskily.

You felt heat rush to your face as you realized what you were about to do. His warm body caged you in and his half lidded eyes anchored down on the soft messed up sheets on his bed. He truly was eyeing you down like you were some goddess. Something divine. He made you feel seen in a way Mark never did and it was weird. You didn’t even like Rex, hell he annoyed the fuck out of you.

But something about him now…

You just nodded and wrapped your arms around him. You felt him probe against you and you mentally prepared yourself though your head still swam. You felt as he inched in slowly. A sigh left both of your lips. Fuck, you needed this.

He gave you a second to get used to him and his size. It’s been a minute. 5 weeks and 3 days to be exact. You couldn’t stop looking at him though. While the eye contact felt intense there was something about him that was different and you couldn’t pin point what. Not yet anyway.

He started moving again a minute or so later after you gave him the go ahead. His hips immediately found a good rhythm as he thrusted into you at a deep but steady pace. You were already a mess. You felt every inch of him once he bottomed out and it felt like heaven. Moans escaped your lips over and over with each slam of his hips. This was a fucking a girl would fantasize over.

You back was arching minutes in, forcing your chest to press against his. Both of you were sweaty and aching but driven by pleasure. His pants and quiet whines fill your ears, making your pussy clench around him. Swears come out and your name falls from his lips like hushed prayers. The sound of him sliding in and out of you only get slicker, wetter, as time went on. It almost wasn’t enough. You didn’t just want him in you, you wanted him in your soul. But that was something you’d take to your grave.

He suddenly pulls out of you flips you over so you were on your hands and knees now, a hand pushing on your back so your ass arched in the air. You whined as a finger teased you.

“Beg.” A quiet, deep voiced command. You bit your lip. You hated how he sounded and how bad it turned you on. How one word made your thighs tremble and your hole clench around nothing.

“Pl-please, Rex.” You whined softly, eyes flicked over his toned body. “Please, please fuck me. Take me. I need it. I need you. Rex…”

A growl. Almost animalistic.

This just couldn’t be Rex anymore.

Regardless, he’s satisfied with your begging and pushes in. It’s even better than went he went in the first time. The new angle has you open mouth moaning. You started getting too loud, breaking an unspoken rule between you two since obviously others were in the building and could hear, so he pushed your face into the pillow. And fuck, did it reck of him. A slight hint of musk, ash, weed, and axe body spray.

His hands, still on the sides of your hips, grip tighter. He was close.

This thrusts were sloppier and he was chanting your name a million times. He kept saying how good your pussy was, how he loved the way your ass moved when it met him. Other murmurs of loving this….you? You probably heard that last part wrong. Head in a pillow and all. But who cared what he said as long as he didn’t stop. You never expected him to fuck this good. Never.

Your orgasm has been creeping up on you. Slowly, like the way a predator stalks prey. And just like when it catches the pray, sudden and quick, that’s exactly how you came. You let out a muffled loud whine from the pillow to warn him and he encouraged you to “cum all over his big, fat cock”.

You weren’t going to argue.

You shook hard and clenched him harder. You body locked. You haven’t came this good and ages. Rex continued to fuck into you but more sloppily. Your body was still shaking from the aftermath when you felt him twitch inside of you. Part of you prayed he didn’t finish inside.

“Fuck, fuck—please, fuck, ahh~” He breathed.

Quickly, he pulled out of you and you felt multiple hot spurts of him meet your back and ass. It was all over you. He came with another growl followed by obscene swearing.

“Holy shit.”

You fell on the bed after all was done. You just couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.

Finally, after you both caught your breath, he wiped you down with some piece of clothing. Probably a shirt. You lifted your head from your pillow to see it was fucking yours.

Okay, the mood was killed.

“Rex-” you whined tiredly.

“What?” Rex smirked still almost hungry. “You won’t be needing it anymore tonight anyways…”

You wanted to ask what the hell that meant, but you were still catching your breath. Your heart still was beating frantically from the height of what just happened.

He finally laid down with you as you rolled on your back, still processing the fact you just fucked Rex. Because you needed dick that bad. And of top of it all, you enjoyed it like crazy.

“Soooo…am I good or what? Better than Mark? Hmm?” Rex said in his usual playful tone. He laid a hand on yours gently. You didn’t know what it meant, what it could mean now.

“Ugh, shut up.” You gave him a weak laugh, wincing a bit from soreness as you sat up a bit. He laughed back. It was warm. Full of something you couldn’t explain.

You guys sat in silence for a bit. Still naked and clammy. Rex was notably still half hard and you wondered how he wasn’t tired yet. You wondered what this meant for him, sure it was silly because he probably didn’t care, but what if he did? What if you did? There were looks he gave you that did not say “Hey, I’m just fucking you as a favor”. No. It said something deeper. Something he was probably too scared to say, and something you were definitely even more scared to hear.

The drama if you two got together. Especially, this close after breaking up with Mark. The idea of it…it genuinely almost made you sick.

But you noticed how he’d look at you sometimes. When you looked down because Mark bailed on another date, he lifted your spirits with his usual jokes and had that look in his eye when you finally laughed. Or when you got hurt to the point of ending up in the hospital. He was there, by your bed, with that look again. Something soft. Something yearning. Desire. When Mark left, he was there. Always there.

So, when he jokingly pitched the idea of “a dick appointment” to you after you broke up with Mark part of you wanted to throw up. He said it would mean nothing, no strings attached. Just a friend helping a friend. Heh, yeah..

You looked at him quietly in the dim room. And, you finally really looked at him.

He looked at you the same. The smirk was gone. His expression unreadable.

A seed was planted tonight and you were terrified of what it will bloom into.

#rex splode #rex sloan #rex splode x reader #rex splode x you #rex splode smut #rex splode invincible #invincible smut #invincible fanfic #invincible imagine #invincible x reader #invincible #invincible x you

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