#distracted at work and can't stop thinking about the shooting

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ CAN I PUT YOU ON HOLD? ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. cunniligus, lil' bit of dirty talk and more... i'm too tired to type it all out </3

author's note: idk personally i wouldn't take that.. but i guess i would if it was satoru. anywaysss enjoy

satoru's a busy man — balancing his responsibilities as a teacher and as a sorcerer is no easy task, but he finds a way to make it work.

anyone who's known him for longer than a minute can easily tell that satoru's committed to his line of work. as much as he complains about it, the truth is that it's one of his top priorities. maybe even the first one.

and you get a taste of just how devoted satoru is when he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you. 

"hello?" satoru cooes, eyes focused on your indignant expression as he holds a finger to his lips. "yeah, i'm free to talk. what is it?"

"free to talk?" you mouth at him incredulously. satoru replies with a wink and grins, enjoying the show. you're still pinned underneath him, bedsheets haphazardly strewn across your body, and satoru savors the sight of you all needy and pouty.

"yeah, take your time," satoru says amusedly to whoever's on the other side of the phone after a moment. when you reach up and swat satoru's chest indignantly, he uses his free hand to pin your wrists above your head, a clear warning in his eyes.

after a couple of mhm's and of course's, the conversation still isn't over. your patience is waning — who is satoru to just stop in the middle of fucking you to pick up a phone call and say that he's free to talk?

you try to distract yourself by thinking about the mindblowing sex you were having just minutes ago. the longing, glassy stares; the red scratch marks down satoru's back; and of course you couldn't leave out the words.

"fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetheart." "atta girl, you're a natural slut, aren't ya?" "your pussy was made to be fucked by me, wasn't it?"

how did that turn into "yeah, make sure the higher-ups know about this, otherwise they'll give me hell for it. mhm"?

after another bland minute, satoru rolls off of you and sits up with his back against the headboard, sheets falling to expose everything from his waist up. 

you whine in impatience, glaring at him like a sullen child. satoru basically just edged you — one second you're about to get to best orgasm of your life, the next you're forced to watch your boyfriend chat on the phone nonchalantly as if he wasn't just moaning your name like a slut three minutes earlier.

satoru shoots a glare at you and pats his lap, pressing a finger to his lips as a reminder to stay quiet.

well then, he shouldn't have picked up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

you scoot yourself into his lap, purposefully positioning yourself so that your pussy just barely rubs against the head of satoru's still-dripping cock.

it's so worth it when you hear satoru inhale a sharp breath and start to squirm under you, somehow both trying to push himself inside but also trying to inch himself away. it's like he can't decide, but the way his face flushes red speaks volumes.

his voice is breathier than normal as he squeezes his watery eyes shut. "yeah yeah, that's perfect. you mind if i put y'on hold for a sec? alright, thanks."

you glance over at satoru as he retracts the phone from his ear and puts it on mute. not even a second later, he's back on you, manhandling you into a position where he can comfortably eat your pussy, a cheeky smile on his lips.

"you think you're so fucking funny, don't ya?" satoru cooes, looking up at you as he eats you out sloppily. a mixture of his saliva and your essence drips down his chin, and the lewd sounds slipping from his lips are pornworthy. the wail that slips out of your lips when satoru bites down on your thigh hard enough to leave a mark is anything but appropriate, especially when he presses his lips back to your pussy and laughs in the middle of tonguefucking you.

"fuck, you're so lucky my phone's on mute right now," satoru groans, still buried in between your thighs. "god, if my old man could hear you now—"

"your dad's on the other end of the phone?!" you gasp, swatting satoru's head and frantically reaching over him to check if the phone was actually on mute — knowing satoru, it could've just slipped his mind. intentionally.

satoru scowls, muttering a reminder for you to stay still while he eats his dessert before rolling his eyes and grumbling "what does it matter?"

"uh, that's embarrassing!" you whine. when satoru nudges his nose against you again, you reluctantly spread your thighs for him so he can continue his meal. satoru mumbles a thanks, but he doesn't respond beyond that.

"satoru!"

"what??"

"don't you have to finish your call?"

satoru sticks out his bottom lip, fixing his cerulean eyes on you and pouting. "you were just complaining about the call and now you want me to go back??"

"it's your dad, satoru," you groan, pushing his shoulders away from your legs and ignoring his protests. "you don't get any more pussy until you finish that damn call."

"i hate you."

"love you lots, baby."

satoru sighs dramatically and unmutes the call, not bothering to respond to his dad's questions with answers longer than a word or two. after another minute of this, his dad finally hangs up and satoru lets out an elated cheer.

he turns to you with a mischievous smirk. 

"now, where were we?"

[vintagesimstress]

I've been trying to turn my Iron Age GBSC playthrough into a story for a good couple of months already, and if you're wondering why it takes me so darn long... That's why 😭

having an idea for your sims 😄

realizing you have to execute it in the sims 😔

[boyfhee]

MASERATIㅤ───────ㅤ재이

✶ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍ㅤ｡⠀bf ! jay, est. rel, slightly suggestive

you're focusing on the road & jay is focusing on you. ( 868 )

╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯ㅤ..ㅤ new work after so long omg this is a bit rusty >< hope u enjoy it nonetheless

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⠀⭑ rbs&feedback ♡

jay can't help but fixate his eyes on you as you drive the car— his car, slick black maserati— well, now yours too. he knows by the subtle smile on your lips that you're aware of his little staring game and, he's knows that you love the fact that he's obsessed.

“again, i could've driven us back,” he insists, leaning back against the seat with his eyes travelling to the ring on your finger. a shy smile makes its way to his lips.

you huff softly, giving him a brief glance before focusing back on the road. “you can trust me with this beauty.”

“i do trust you,” a swift reply, as if the words were waiting on the tip of his tongue to be said. the car is the last thing he has to worry about anyway. “it's just that you look prettier as the passenger princess.”

he notices the way your lips curl into a smile, the way you mumble something in response that he fails to catch because he's too busy admiring you.

unknowingly, he's staring at you again—how the setting sun is casting its rays onto you, the way your hair is tousling in the cool breeze, your neck adorned with a dainty gold necklace that's being reflected off the golden hues off the evening.

“you're staring again,” you chuckle, feeling his gaze on you.

and he simply shrugs, still looking at you shamelessly. “can't help when i've got the prettiest angel right beside me,”

you look peaceful.

your hands guiding the steering and changing gears with practiced ease, the way a quiet laugh rolls off your glossy lips at his words— he's dying for a glance, but you're looking at the road, and then it's as if the heavens heard his prayers when you turn your head towards him, giving him a smile that makes him go haywire. you're doused in warmth and he swears, he's falling for you all over again.

“you're beautiful,” he whispers softly, just loud enough for his words to reach your ears. “and i want to kiss you senseless but you're driving,”

your heart almost skips a beat at his words, cheeks heating up at just the thought of his implications. it almost takes you back to the quick & messy makeout session you had in the parking lot earlier this noon, the way the cramped space of the car made you more hot and bothered, and how his hands traced your curves—

“imagining it already, doll?” he smirks, words laced with a seductively teasing tone. his hands slowly trail up one of your thighs, feeling you shiver under his touch. “i think you should focus on the road,”

you try, you do, but it's just so damn hard when he gives your thigh a light squeeze. you know he's messing with you and it's working. you're a mess, letting out a soft gasp, torn between driving home and pulling over somewhere discreet.

he chuckles at your reactions, enjoying your flushed face and nervous eyes. you shoot him a quick glare but he doesn't let up, trailing his hand to the slit of your dress before you end up slapping his hand away.

“jay—” you speak in annoyance once you stop at the red light. “you're going to get us crashed!”

“that's why i told you to focus on the road, angel,” he shrugs innocently, the action betraying the mischievous glint in his eyes. “or am i distracting you?”

your eyes settle on the traffic light, ignoring his words, waiting for the signal to turn green.

“oh come on angel, are you sulking now?” he huffs at the pout on your lips, one that makes him want to kiss you even more.

and you mumble under your breath. “no,”

he shakes his head, gently grabbing your chin to make you face him before bringing his lips down to yours in a searing kiss. it turns out yet again that you can't stay mad at him, not when he's kissing you like you're the oxygen he needs to breathe.

and just when the lights go green again, he pulls back, much to your disappointment, whispering against your now swollen lips. “promise i'll make it up to you when we're home,”

[returnofeternity]

cant stop thinking about adult lottie being obsessed with you, shauna's (VERY adult) kid. both because you're literally the offspring of the wilderness and because she's insanely attracted to you. mainly because of your connection to the wilderness, though.

after showing up to find out where the fuck your mom went, and after shooting her old friend in the arm, and after their old teammate died, you try to forget it all and go back to work/classes. lottie, unfortunately, cannot go after you since she's locked up again, but she's formulating a plan.

maybe once she's out of the hospital, she starts stalking you. watching you from afar, literally shaking at the power you hold. she's upset that you don't even know how much power you have. you could do so much with it. freak, perverted lottie who takes pictures of you while at work or on campus and touches the screen (aka your face) while mumbling about whatever the hell she promised It, her eyes closed and clit throbbing as she prays to It and you.

lottie still showing up on shauna's doorstep, but only to get closer to you. lottie who almost breaks when you agree with her about letting her stay with your dad and shauna, feeling her whole body tremble at your voice. not that she hasn't heard it in a while; she's quite literally been by your side without you knowing for weeks.

that whole impromptu sleepover with misty still happening, but you end up fucking lottie at the end. lottie who has to control herself when touching you, being very cautious where she puts her hickeys because she can't have shauna suspect something. lottie who begssss you to touch her, who fucking thanks you over and over again as you eat her out, moaning something about you and It. you can't really find it in yourself to really listen to what she's muttering, though, you're too distracted by her taste.

sneaking out of the house after that to meet up with lottie, feeling such a rush as you lie to shauna about where you've been. calling lottie in your bedroom while your dad and mom are talking about your sudden aggression in the kitchen, begging her to come over and show you what she really means by worshipping you.

lottie who starts scaring you when she talks about taking you to meet Her. lottie who doesn't understand why you're so apprehensive now. lottie who could nearly cream herself when you get angry at her as she talks about your purpose, telling you things you don't believe about yourself because there's such anger and power and IT in your eyes.

lottie who finally convinces you to dress up as the antler queen so she can worship you. or, scratch that actually, (but still, she'd get you to dress up) shauna who finds you and lottie making out after coming home, only crashing the fuck out after spotting jackie's necklace on you.

just. adult lottie being perverted. that's it.

[starmapz]

what are your hcs on wyk sukuna as a husband

cw ; based on what you know. f!reader. fluff! mentions of sex.

i definitely think wyk!sukuna would struggle with the idea of marriage. not because he doesn't love you or want to spend the rest of his life with you, he has no doubts about that- but because he's afraid. he never experienced the love of two married parents and he doubts his ability to provide for you, and he fears the idea of tying you down when he knows his life is a lot to handle. he fears it isn't what you want.

for that reason, it takes wyk!sukuna a long time to work up the courage to propose. when he finally does, he's beyond relieved that you say yes, overjoyed. he doesn't do grand gestures, he's not the type to make a big show of the proposal, but he does want it to be intimate, something memorable and special for you.

wyk!sukuna doesn't dress up often beyond slacks and a button-up, so seeing him in a full suit at the end of the aisle is just about the most jaw-dropping sight on the planet. his hair is freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, unable to stop fiddling with the sleeves of his suit. when he sees you, every fear fades away because nothing else matters anymore.

husband!wyk!sukuna is obsessed with you. he's not overly vocal about it, he's still the stoic and grumpy man you fell in love with, but it's clear if you're looking for the signs. no matter how quiet he is though, there's no greater pleasure than calling you his wife.

husband!wyk!sukuna is the type of man to show his love primarily through acts of service and physical touch. he's so accustomed to working himself to the bone that he's more than willing to do a few extra chores around the house if it means you don't have to. to him, it's still way less than what his schedule used to resemble, even if you complain that he never lets you help. you help him more than you could ever know, in other ways.

speaking of physical touch, husband!wyk!sukuna is touchy to an almost annoying degree. you're busy working? he'll come up behind you and massage your shoulders, but that quickly devolves into him trying to distract you to gain your attention. cooking something in the kitchen? there's a good chance he's there behind you, his lips on your neck and hands on your hips.

husband!wyk!sukuna has a high sex drive for sure, but the truth is that he just enjoys being the apple of your eye. he enjoys the intimate little pieces of love found within quiet moments watching movies with you held tightly against him. he's at his happiest when you give his foot a gentle nudge under the table at dinner, for no other reason than to shoot him your gorgeous smile.

husband!wyk!sukuna doesn't like to give you flowers. not because he doesn't value the thought behind it, but more because he doesn't like the idea of giving you something with an expiry date. his love for you will never die so why should he give you a gift that will? you're worth more to him than that, so he's more likely to give you a whole plant.

he can't get you too many plants though, because husband!wyk!sukuna wants to make up for all the experiences he missed out on over the years, and travel is absolutely one of them. he loves history and art and wants to visit all the places his dad mentioned when he was younger, but not without you there with him.

outwardly, sukuna comes across fairly cold, but you swear husband!wyk!sukuna melts when you visit paris and ask to do each and every romantic activity. he wants to visit the catacombs and the louvre, but you? you want to write your names on a lock at the pont des arts. he scowls the whole time, but only because if he doesn't, he'll be a big ol' mushy mess.

your house is filled with photos that husband!wyk!sukuna sneaks while you're traveling, though his favorite was taken beneath a waterfall. you caught him off-guard, his attention on the flowing water with his arms around your middle while you grin at the camera. it sits on his desk at work as well.

you're husband!wyk!sukuna's muse. he never stops drawing and sketching, he adores doing landscape pieces based on places he's been and photos he's taken, but you're a part of all of them, whether you're in the original photo or not.

anyone who meets you after college is caught by surprise when you introduce them to husband!wyk!sukuna. he's snide and cold-shouldered, while you're sweet and open. they don't know the bond you share, and honestly, you're more than okay with that. your husband prefers to keep the details of your life between you, anyway. his life is something he shares only with those he's closest to.

still, your new friends begin to warm up to husband!wyk!sukuna through his eye rolls and snarky comments when they get a glimpse of the person he is around you. all it takes for you to get his attention is a simple nudge and he's all yours. anything you need, he's at your service, even if he's teasing you or making a big deal out of it. it's all just a show, when it comes to you.

oh, and those who are privy to the fact he took care of his brothers? husband!wyk!sukuna becomes the go-to babysitter for them. he doesn't mind, either. he likes the opportunity to give his and your friends a break to go out, because he gets it. and although it might not have been the greatest point in his life, sometimes he misses when his brothers were younger and their biggest worries were who would get the last chicken strip. he may not want kids of his own, feeling as though he already has them in a sense, but he likes being an uncle of sorts to your friends' kids. plus, he's a great target for nerf darts. and when they get older? he's the cool uncle who takes them to paintball and horror nights at the local fair.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a dry texter, he's a man of few words both when chatting and texting, so it makes it that much funnier when he sends you a photo out of the blue, no caption. just a photo of a plush rabbit. why? "it's you," he texts back. this is an oddly common occurrence. anything that looks remotely cute and tiny to him, that's you. and when you're 6'11" and pure muscle, most things are small and cute.

husband!wyk!sukuna's prized possessions are the woven bracelets from his brothers and his wedding ring. As the years go by, the bracelets eventually tear and fall off, but Sukuna still keeps them. In fact, many years later, you notice there's a new ring that sits on his right middle finger, and upon closer inspection you find that the torn bracelets have been turned into a ring. nothing means more to him than family.

husband!wyk!sukuna knows he's a lot to handle, and he knows his temper is the biggest thing he needs to work on. he gets snippy easily, but he'll also own up to his mistakes before it gets anywhere. he's lost you once, he's learned his lesson. no amount of frustration is worth losing you.

your happiness is husband!wyk!sukuna's priority. he may be dense as hell when it comes to little signals (he begs you to just spell things out for him), but he's in tune with your discomfort and won't take it lightly. you're out with friends and your social battery runs out? expect his voice in your ear, telling you he's ready to go. he'll always present it to the group you're out with like it's him that wants to go as well, never forcing you to be the center of attention. he knows you wouldn't like that.

husband!wyk!sukuna tucks you so tightly to his chest while you sleep that you can't even get up to use the washroom in the middle of the night. and don't think about waking him up either, he gets so grumpy the moment he's half-awake and thinks you're trying to get away from him. and in case you're wondering, yes, summers are hell. you do need to get a/c.

husband!wyk!sukuna longs for nothing more than simplicity in life. nothing helps him wind down from a long day more than laying his head on your chest while you read, but he certainly won't turn you down either if you run your hand through his hair. he enjoys the silence, and finds joy in doing absolutely nothing, in particular if you're there with him. the greatest treasure for someone who once carried the weight of the world on his shoulders is doing nothing with the person he loves most.

husband!wyk!sukuna makes sure you know how much he loves you. he writes it on your skin in kisses and hickeys. he knows he isn't always the best with emotions, or showing his love, and he particularly knows his eloquence dissolves when it comes to words. sex with you isn't just about pleasure for him. it's the one moment where he feels like he knows what he's doing and can genuinely please you. maybe it's crass, but it lets him show you his love for you how he knows best, physically.

husband!wyk!sukuna is extremely secure with you. he trusts you to the ends of the earth, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like the look of hickeys on your skin. the sly bastard loves to show them off too. you've covered them in makeup? nope. he'll whisk you away for a makeout session and make a point of smudging the makeup, much to your dismay. yes, even at work. to him, it's about the way his love is written in the language that husband!wyk!sukuna knows best.

husband!wyk!sukuna is a quiet lover. You need to read between the lines at times to find the signs, but they're always there and he'll never let a day go by without showing you, even if he rarely uses words.

writing & format © starmapz. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[nlovesbjh]

꒰ 지젤 ꒱ ── pink haired girl 𖥔 synopsis. . . you just debuted and obviously dating scandal wasn't in your bingo card, but your senior was so pretty, it was hard to resist not to stare at her all the time ꒰꧞ ˃ ��� ˂ ꒱ྀི

지젤 ／ 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝 reader ៸៸ idol au fluff ⟡ ⌢ . kissing petnames ( baby, love ) now is playing! . . confessions by loossemble

𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝒩. omg so happy im finally posting something on this account because i couldn't wait any longer lol. this work is not proofread, i wrote this super quickly bc i love aeri uchinaga <3

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who you met at music bank after your pre-recording performance. you were the one who needed to film a tiktok challenge with her, so you brought a signed album of your group and learned whiplash choreography before meeting her.

honestly, you couldn't stop staring. giselle just looked incredibly beautiful, her makeup was flawless, her outfit was perfect and she looked hot to say at least. maybe your cheeks were blushing too much and your face were getting too hot or she was just so beautiful and her personality made you feel a little dizzy.

"oh my god Im so, so, so sorry.." you apologized again after you made a mistake in whiplash choreo. one of the easiest dance in your life and you were doing it wrong for the fourth time, what was your problem? obviously you were too distracted and nervous around giselle wich made her giggle.

"it's okay! we can do it again, yeah?" she tried to calm you down and smiled. her smile was so soft and sweet you almost melted.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who wanted to make you feel less awkward around her and asked if she can buy you a drink after you finished filming.

"what?!" you're eyes widened in surprise, you just couldn't believe that your aespa bias wants to buy you a drink. you were so excited to finally see her up close after years of fangirling, but you never would've guessed she would like to get closer? you blinked a few times and cleaned your throat before answer. "yes, I'd like that!"

"okay," giselle simply replied and led you towards the cafeteria to buy some drinks. she thought you were cute, blushing all the time and making mistakes in steps and she definitely knew it was because of her. she couldn't let such an adorable girl like you go away without her knowing you better, right?

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who asked for your number before you could disappear in your group's green room. you happily accepted her offer, taking her phone and accidentally touching her fingers with yours. the contact got you blushing more and you almost looked like tomato now, but you did gave her your number after all. what a win.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who will always text you something like "you fid a great job" or "you looked so pretty today" after she saw your group performance or show.

you would immediately blush, smiling at your phone as soon as the shoot was over and your members would tease you.

"so down bad that's insane.."

"y/n get up!!"

"can you just shut up! why can't I like a cute girl?" you whine, annoyed at their behavior as you sat down on the couch to reply to giselle's text.

"so you like her?"

"I didn't say that!" your head comes up as soon as you've heard your group mate's words which you have definitely said a few seconds ago without even realizing it.

"mhm, you obviously do."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who can't stop talking about you and your performances and her members are tired of it. she notices everything, the way your hair looks on stage and how good you look with that hair color, the way you smirked after successfully finishing your part and her favorite moments are where you're the ending fairy.

that was the moment when giselle knew she liked you and not because you're great artist, but because you were sweet, adorable and she just couldn't stop thinking about you. she never felt like that about anyone else before, all her attention was at you, now she was the one fangirling.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who's fancams from awards started getting viral in kpop community because she was smiling so hard seeing you perform, singing along to your parts and was basically simpling over you.

"aeri unnie is trending on twitter again?" ningning asked out of sudden, looking up from her phone.

"what? do not tell it's something bad.." karina already started freaking out if it's about hate or a dating scandal. "why?"

"because she's looking at y/n with heart eyes," ningning laughed at giselle's surprised reaction while karina sighed with relief.

"I do not look at her like that, what is your problem! they're definitely making it up," giselle was trying to defend herself, but it sounded so bad her members couldn't help but laugh.

"why are you trying to make us believe that you don't like her if we already do know you're in love?" minjeong rolled her eyes.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is making you nervous all the time when you're together even though you've been friends for a few months already and you were hanging out pretty much every weekend.

"are you blushing?" giselle asked, pocking at your cheek playfully which made you both giggle.

"yeah.." you reply shyly, continuing drinking your milkshake to get over this awkward situation.

"cute." she whispered and you almost choked on your drink out of surprise.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is always making sure you're eating well and resting even when you don't have schedule or comeback coming up just because she is worried and she cares about you a lot.

"have you eaten yet? we can go grab some lunch together." giselle said, placing her hand on your shoulder to get your full attention.

"mm? yeah, alright…" you simply answered, not looking up at her and continuing watching the choreography you need to learn until the month ends.

"hey, are you okay?" she asked. giselle was truly worried about you, she already told you about that and tried to help you with anything you might need, but you were so into that comeback preparation, she just couldn't do anything. "you need to eat, baby.."

"huh?" your eyes flushed open as you finally looked up at giselle, realizing how close she was sitting to you and the warmth of her hand on your shoulder was definitely doing something to you. you've never heard her using nicknames for you except one's that were versions of your name, but 'baby' was something new. and you liked it. a lot.

"sorry, I—"

"no, no it's okay! totally fine!" you tried to sound not as excited as you felt, but oh you failed. "I liked it.." you whispered.

"what?"

"nothing, let's go eat…" you quickly changed the theme and stood up from your seat, leaving giselle no time to think about the fact that you liked being called 'baby' by her let alone give her a chance to discuss it with you.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who loves watching your fancams and fan made videos just for fun because you always make her smile and laugh like no one else.

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who was the one confessing her feelings to you as soon as she get out of the red carpet at the award.

"there you are! you look so pretty.." giselle almost lost her mind when she saw you in that outfit. the color suits you perfectly, makeup makes you look even more gorgeous and elegant, she just couldn't help herself when those words came out of her mouth. "I like you."

"what?" you couldn't believe what you just heard. not only your friend that you had a crush on just confessed to you, but she looked incredibly good it was so hard to think about something but her in that black dress in that exact moment. fuck how can you be so stupid and act like that when she's right there saying she likes you. "are you serious?"

"dead serious." she nodded and you came closer to press a soft kiss on her cheek, pulling off quickly just to see a red lipstick mark on her skin and smile.

"I gotta go, but I'll text you later, okay?"

"okay." giselle smiled back at you.

"and I like you too."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who would spend all her free time at your doorm for two reasons: one. she's tired of her members. two. she missed you a lot.

"let's watch something!" you suggested, trying to escape giselle's grip on your waist although you didn't actually want her to let go off you. you loved when she acted clingy, it's sweet.

"how about this new kdrama that came out.. what was the name?" giselle pouted slightly while trying to remember the name of the show and she looked so cute that you already didn't care what you'd watch. your hands wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer to you. you breathed deeply, smelling her hair and smiling at the strawberry scent. her pink hair smelled like strawberries…

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who can't let her members steal you from her because they want to get to know you better but she knows they'll like you so much and would try to spend more time with you and become friends.

"absolutely not, love. can't let ningning befriend you, she'll definitely gonna hang out with you all the time and then with us two together and then we won't have time for each other and—"

you rolled your eyes at giselle and pulled her closer to you, kissing her to finally make her stop rambling about nonsense. her lips felt so soft against yours. not just her hair, but she even tasted like strawberries. when you pulled out to breathe, looking at her with the most adoring eyes possible, you smiled.

"don't be silly, she won't replace you. nobody ever will."

SUNBAENIM GISELLE! who is just the most supportive girlfriend ever. in all honesty, she is always there to make you feel better, to make you feel loved and say how much you've done and that she is proud of you.

obviously you can't leave her alone at those moments too, you both know how much it means for each other that you'll share your feelings, love and support. you will always be there for her and she will always becthere for you no matter what.

[angelltheninth]

Boku No Hero Academia Men + Teasing Them Under the Table

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya, Bakugo Katsuki, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Tenya Iida, Keigo Takami, Toya Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cock tease, under the desk blowjobs, handjob, cum licking, ball massage, semi-public sex, edging

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Got inspired from the Arcane fic about Marcus that I posted the other day.

Izuku looks around like someone's watching him but you're all alone. That doesn't stop his face brum heating up until it's completely red. He doesn't want to make too much noise even if you're the only one who will hear him so he has both hands over his mouth. Moans into them every time he feels your warm tongue licking up his throbbing cock and licking around the sensitive tip.

Bakugo holds your head firmly in place so you don't move away from him. Since you're the one who started this, getting under the desk and lightly sucking him off, you might as well finish it. He'll be pissed off at you if you don't, don't think you can tease him like that and not going all the way. Every time he hears you hold back a choking sound he looks down at you and smirks.

Shoto blushes while he watches you lick the cum off his dick while you're still making more come out by stroking him up and down. You need to hurry up and make him finish, he can't spend all day with you, as much as he would like to. His cock was always a little hotter in temperature than normal, and you teasing him this much really isn't helping any.

Eijiro keeps his hands firmly planted on the desk, his eyes shut and his teeth clenched. All in an effort not to let his Quirk overcome him while his cock is still in your mouth. That could potentially hurt you, which is the last thing he wants. But he also likes this edging sessions with you, they help him control himself better, and when it's all over he can jerk off until your whole face is covered with cum.

Tenya does his best not to drop his serious look even while you're under the desk sucking him off. Little grunts and whines do leave make it past his mouth but for the most part he manages to keep his composure. Safe for a few deep breaths he has to take here and there to help him stay sane. On occasion he will reach down to stroke your cheek, you're doing great, keep it up, and so will he.

Keigo really hates to rush you when it feels so good to have his cock warmed by your mouth, but he has a dumb meeting to get to. Trust him he would much rather stay here, but work is work. However he doesn't complain when he feels your hands on his full balls. Slowly massaging them, pushing them up, licking them before squeezing just enough to make him shoot his cum down your throat.

Toya will make you regret teasing him when you cupped his cock below the desk while he was talking. Those distractions that you thought were harmless, now he'll make you pay for them. As soon as he saw you going under the desk he knew he wouldn't let you get up until you were holding back tears and choking on his cock and cum. Fucking every bit of cum he has down your throat is quite the appropriate punishment.

[chatsukimi]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

featuring: needy!gojosatoru, childhoodfriend!gojosatoru. precious. fluff!, minute jealousy synopsis: you put makeup on your childhood best friend. you learn that he is more than you anticipated. masterlist

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you'd seen him as a child, two years younger than you, get scolded by his parents for sending a senile sorcerer to hospital. you were there when he first activated limitless and pummelled you accidentally in the face.

safe to say, nothing surprises you anymore. not even when he teleports into your room on the night of your date without even a knock and grabs you by the shoulders to turn you and your chair around.

"oi, stop that."

you strangle him off you. he only grins.

"sure thing." he shrugs, before bending down to inspect you more closely. "what have you got on your face?"

you put the bottle of setting spray down. "makeup."

he ruffles his tousled white hair, windblown. "ah? makeup. are you meeting someone?" he grins halfheartedly, scanning your room for any changes since you last met.

"i am."

"it's about time. i've already dated loads of people," he boasts, his eyes lingering on the powder and blush on the table.

you roll your eyes. "of course you have." you lay on the finishing touches to your face. you notice him watching.

rule one about gojo satoru, when he stares, he's interested. as you grew older, it became harder under those pitch black shades of his to detect where he's staring, but when he really wants something, it's obvious.

you lift a brush. "you want me to do makeup on you?"

he shakes his head.

rule two about satoru gojo, he never says what he's thinking.

you stand up, gesturing at the bed. "sit down." without a word, the boy listens to your command, ready to try something new.

you can't say you're unhappy to try doing makeup on him. you had some spare time left and that beautiful canvas of a face is nothing but to die for. putting makeup on him would be fun.

"i'll have to take off your glasses. may i?"

he sniffs.

rule three about gojo, he pretends to hate it when people ask to take his glasses off, but he secretly likes it. you know. it makes him feel seen, more human.

"do it yourself."

you nod.

taking his sunglasses off, you revel in the familiar ocean which faces you.

another two facts about satoru is that he can't keep still and he can't stop yapping. shaking his leg in tandem with the news from his mouth, the movement makes you shoot him a frustrated glare, distracted.

half to shut him up, the other half to make him pay attention, you grip his jaw in place. your eyes lock. soon enough, he'll probably look away to inspect some other object of interest; he's known you for years, after all. nothing new.

as you work, you think to yourself.

gojo... he's really grown up, hasn't he? in careful brushstrokes, you drag the eyeliner gently to form a wing with the tip of the pen. your eyes narrowed in concentration, you haven't noticed the shallow breath which tumbles from his mouth.

"pretty."

you blink.

gojo satoru scoots closer to you, so that his gorgeous azure eyes are inches from yours. they are widened in awe.

in all these years, you can count on one hand the number of times this genius has focused on anything longer than five-ten seconds. sure, going to jujutsu high has stretched that time out slightly, but it's nothing compared to this.

you know what rule one says about his behaviour, but you couldn't believe it.

he reaches up to brush the hair from your face. unblinking, unwavering, as though memorising everything, the outline of your nose to the singular dashes which form an eyelash, he stares at you.

it is the first step from a boy to a man.

"you are... really, really, pretty."

"says you," you say, almost pushing his hands away.

he sinks his fingers against yours, clasping them in a bone-tight grip.

"you are," he asserts. "how come i've never noticed?" he mutters, furious.

um. you turn to look the other way. the heat of his stare is scalding. nevertheless, the strongest refuses to back down.

"i should've noticed, shouldn't i? and now you're all dressed up with your make-up to meet some other guy." he pouts.

truth be told, you are silenced. this is not the gojo you recognise. in a swift move, he carries you from the vanity to the bed. the display of strength startles you.

"don't go," he whines into your shoulder, shifting you with his strong arms to nuzzle himself into your chest. you did so often when you were younger but-

"stay." he pauses, letting each syllable cascade from his beautiful lips like a bell, ringing crystal clear. "stay with me."

stay with him.

you think you know everything about gojo satoru. you remember the way he begged for a break amidst his pre-adolescent training sessions. you remember the empty hallways of the gojo estate and his silent footsteps, how they left him behind to carry the world on his shoulders.

awaiting your answer, gojo feels his heart beating out of his chest. what if you leave? what if you choose your date over him? what if-

"why?"

he stares up at you again. truly shameless.

"because i want you to." he turns stern. "or else, i'll tell your friend that you didn't actually have work that day you decided to ditch her little meet-up and i'll-"

out of nowhere, a laugh breaks out of you. he frowns.

but then, you press a soft kiss on his cheek, another one on the slope of his nose, which -truth be told- didn't need the contour you'd gracefully put on it, and the strongest sorcerer in the world relaxes to your touch.

moments like these, satoru still manages to surprise you.

"i'll stay."

"promise?" he holds up a pinkie.

"come on, satoru, we're not children anymore."

his eyebrows scrunch together so you finally relent.

"ok."

you link your pinkie to his.

"promise."

getting comfortable, you shoot a text at your friend to move the date to another day.

"i knew you'd stay. you can't stand when i throw a tantrum," he suddenly begins to mumble against your skin. your eyes widen. "i know you... better than anyone..." his eyelids are dragging under the weight of sleepiness.

perhaps you didn't know everything about satoru after all.

gojo opens his eyes, seeing you fully. "i know you can't stand me being alone."

perhaps he knew more about you than you had thought possible.

on second thoughts, you grab your phone from your bedside table, typing up a message you send without a second thought.

sorry. something came up. i might not be able to meet with you next week either. thank you for your patience, but i think i've found someone who i want to stick by forever.

[familyvideostevie]

to close up all the rest

joel miller x reader | 3.2k

a patrol rattles you. joel keeps you grounded.

cw: typical tlou violence, intense emotions about being alive/death, love, something to live for. post-part i jackson au

a/n: just a little jackson au one-shot. this is a christmas present for darling @macfrog. thank you for existing, i love you. hope this is alright.

--

It's been a long time since someone died in front of you.

You don't even know her. Honestly, you should be glad the runner grabbed her, considering she just finished shooting at you. Your patrol partner, a kid called Joey who usually works the stables, shouts your name as you watch it sink its teeth into her neck over and over again.

She doesn't even scream.

"More are coming," he cries. "We have to go."

He's right. The woman's gunshot echoed in the valley and it's not yet cold enough for the herds to be slow, so you have a few minutes at most to get out of here. Probably less.

Groans on the wind. Definitely less.

You shake yourself out of the twisted thrall you've fallen into and look away. Heart in your throat, blood pounding in your ears, you quickly tie your bags to your horse and scan the street.

"Do you have your pack?" you ask Joey.

If she was screaming you'd shoot her. Put an end to it. But it might be a waste of a shot and then the runner would be on you in ten big steps. Fuck.

"Got it!"

You both mount skittish rides and take off down the cracked pavement. The patrol had an added ask of raiding some neighborhoods for linens that can be turned into bandages. You each have a big bag of old clothes, curtains, blankets, and the like strapped to the back of your saddles. The woman had appeared out of the tree line just as you finished the last house, demanding your stuff. There was protocol for this -- Joey would distract her while you went for the gun strapped to the back of your jeans.

But she was skittish, this woman. She fired at the pavement in front of you as soon as your hand twitched.

And then, well.

After a few miles of steady galloping you signal for Joey to slow. The forest is quiet as you turn onto the path down the hill that will lead you back to Jackson.

"I can't believe she shot at us," the kid says. "Stupid."

You sigh. "She was desperate," you say, remembering how wild her eyes looked. "And alone. If she had people with her she wouldn't have."

"You think?"

It's been some time but you did your days alone in this world. It's bloody, it's terrifying, it's punishing. You stop trusting anyone and eventually you stop trusting yourself. Wondering why you keep trying. Without community you lose sight of what matters. You lose sight of how you can not just survive this hell on earth, but live in it.

If she had wanted to do that, instead, maybe you could have told her it was possible.

"Yeah," you say. The walls of Jackson come into view and you think about what awaits you. A warm house, an even warmer embrace. Safety, security, home. "Having people makes all the difference."

Joey waves the green flag and the gates open for you. After returning your horse and checking to make sure the kid isn't too traumatized -- frankly, he seems totally unbothered -- you walk back to the house. The sun is starting to set, painting everything golden, but you can see the clouds rolling in. Might be that snow that everyone keeps anticipating. Most mornings you hear chatter about it. Small talk about the weather persists after the end of the world.

A few folks wave hello, ask after Ellie's new dog, say they hope you've got your firewood ready. Jackson is a thing out of dreams. Solid walls, even steadier people. Good rules, smart leaders. You feel lucky every day that they let you stay here. That you've made a home here.

That home is in sight when you turn on Rancher and what you spy on the porch makes you pick up your pace.

Joel.

He's rocking in the one chair out front, guitar slung across his lap like an afterthought as he strums with his eyes closed. It'll be too cold to sit out, soon, so he spends most evenings playing while he can still stand it.

A heaviness you didn't realize you were carrying lessens a little at the sight of him.

"Hey, stranger," you call as you walk up the steps.

His gaze falls on you, the hazel in his irises more evident in the fading light of the late afternoon. God, he looks beautiful. Like everything you've ever wanted.

"Howdy," he says. The guitar goes up against the house and he stands, meeting you at the top step. "How was patrol?"

You falter, smile frozen on your face. You should tell him, but you don't know what you'd say. A stranger died in front of you and it's put your stomach in knots? It's not that he'll laugh at you, or anything like that. You just need to chew on it a little longer. And right now you're steps away from the warm inside of your home and inches away from the man you love, so you decide to push it aside.

"The usual," you muse. Joel furrows his brow just a little and searches your gaze, but whatever he finds in your eyes causes him to let it go.

"Okay," he says, softly. He taps your chin with his knuckle and turns toward the front door, snagging his guitar on the way. "You hungry? Ellie brought by some soup."

"Did she make it?"

Your layers go on the hooks by the door, your boots next to his in the hall. He heads for the kitchen.

"Hell no," Joel says, deep voice echoing through your house. "Dina did."

"So it's edible?"

You pad on socked feet over creaking hardwood and find him over a pot on the stove, bowl in hand.

"Tried a bit and it didn't kill me," he says. "Waited for you to get home to eat, though."

"And Tommy says you were raised in a barn," you tease, kissing his cheek before he ladles the soup for you.

Joel grunts and you laugh. "Hot bowl," he says. "Careful."

For some reason, his gentle caution makes your chest hurt. You think about the woman from today, how she had no one telling her to be careful. How she made a mistake, or maybe a reckless choice. How she didn't even scream.

There are many very difficult days in this life and you dealt with them on your own for a long time. It's taken practice and mounds of patience from Joel and the other people in this town who love you, but you've learned that you can let other people help you through those days. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard.

You sit at the table across from Joel and try not to let your mood take over.

"You alright?" Joel asks, frown firmly in place. "Maybe Ellie did make the soup--"

"It's good, Joel," you say, smiling a little. If he asks you how you are one more time, you'll crack. And you're not ready yet. "Will you tell me about your day?"

He sighs, no doubt seeing through your second deflection, but allows it.

"Let's see," he starts, leaning back in his chair. "Tommy had me handlin' that bullshit with the kids who went huntin'."

Last week, three teenagers snuck out with the grand idea that they'd bag an elk or something just as big and bring it back for fame and glory or whatever kids think is worth life and death these days. It hadn't gone as badly as it could have, but it was pretty bad. They'd stolen a rifle from the patrol cache and only made it a few miles before one of them slipped down a bank and broke his ankle. Joel had been the one to lead the search party when someone realized they were missing.

He's got a soft spot for teenagers.

"It's good for them to learn," you remind him. He sucks on his teeth and rubs at his jaw. You slurp on some more soup and a thought at odds with your sour mood dances through your memory -- how good his beard felt on your skin last night. Jesus. He does something to you, this man.

"Should know better," he says, oblivious to the echo of your desire. "Havin' them clean all the guns is one thing but once that kid heals up I'm tellin' Tommy we oughta start a trainin' class or somethin'. Let them get outside the walls and hunt if they want. With supervision."

"Keep talking like that and Maria will make you join the council," you muse.

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure as shit not doin' that."

"You'd be good at it, Joel. People listen to you."

"I have a hard enough time gettin' my own kid to listen to me," he reminds you. "Hell, you, too."

It's less of a jab and more of an attempt to get you to cheer up, and it works. You laugh at him, delighted to vex him so. As if he does anything but melt for Ellie. And for you -- both of you know just how wrapped around you he is. He'll do anything for his family. You've seen proof of it.

"If only the council had a uniform," you sigh, exaggerating your disappointment. "You'd look so handsome in one."

"Watch it," he says, eyes sparkling.

You tap his foot under the table with yours. "Just being truthful," you tease, though it rings a little hollow given the fact that you're swerving talking about your own day.

Joel hums and leans back in his chair. "You gonna tell me what happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

Even as you chew on how to swerve him once again, you find yourself going back to the patrol. The way your senses sharpened when she stepped out of the trees, how you saw all the ways it could go wrong. Her twitchy hand, her wide eyes. The crack in her voice when she demanded your packs. The echo of the gunshot and your own heartbeat loud in your ears wondering if today was the day you wouldn't make it home. When the runner leapt out of nowhere and latched onto her. How easily your life could have ended that way, too.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," Joel says, not unkindly. "Where are you?"

You chew on your lower lip. This would be a lot easier if the words would just come to you, if you knew how to explain yourself.

"Joel--"

"Alright, that's it," he says. Joel gets up with a groan, stretching his arms high in the air, and heads for the front door.

"What?" you ask, confused, but you follow him into the hall. "Joel, where are you going?"

"We're goin' for a walk." He shrugs on his jacket and waves you over. "C'mon."

"But the dishes--"

"Will be here when we get back," he finishes. "Now, get your coat on. Hat, too. Reckon the snow is gonna start tonight."

You could fight him about it, say you're cold and tired and just want to sit on the couch. Tell him to stop badgering you, to let sleeping dogs lie.

But that's the thing about Joel -- you trust him. Outside the walls, inside your home. With your life and with your heart. You're safe in his hands. And you've been here before plenty of times. After nightmares from both of you, after hard days in town, after his fights with Ellie or Tommy or whatever it is. You walk and you talk it out. Fresh air helps, Joel often says. It's the father in him, the caretaker, the man who knows when to listen and when to push. He's taught you a lot about that.

So you shove your feet back into your boots and Joel tugs a knit hat over your ears. The sun finished setting while you were eating, Jackson now illuminated by the gas lamps and string lights hanging between the posts.

Normally you'd be content to just walk with Joel side by side, as is your usual routine. He's not a particularly public man when it comes to affection, though you never doubt that he's thinking of you. His eyes find yours in every room and he easily finds you in every crowd. By now, you've got your own language.

But, given that he's brought you out here to no doubt get you to be honest about your complicated feelings, he offers you his arm for support. You take it with a dry look that he matches.

Never one to let you off easily, this man. Not when he knows he can help, at least.

"You know what I'm gonna say," he grumbles.

It helps to talk.

It's basically a mantra in your house. Ellie says he didn't used to be like this. The total opposite, in fact. You know that it's her that brought him back to this version of himself -- he did it because she asked. And maybe you coming along helped, too. He might seem gruff and guarded to those who don't know him but it's all so he can protect who and what he loves.

And this is one of his ways -- not letting things go unsaid.

"I don't know where to start," you say. "I don't know how to explain it."

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw. "Try the beginning," he suggests. "It was patrol, right? Somethin' happened?"

You nod.

"We saw a woman," you start. You close your eyes and picture her, letting Joel lead you down the street. "She came out of the woods just as we finished the last house."

"Hostile?"

You look at Joel. His jaw is tense, as if you're not standing in front of him safe and sound. Always trying to fix hurts he had nothing to do with.

"She had a gun, yeah," you continue. "Demanded our stuff. We were ready to do the protocol but then she shot at us."

Joel stops in his tracks, pulling you with him. "She did what?"

"And missed, obviously," you remind him. "But it was a stupid mistake, since we weren't far from that town with the herd. She had to have seen traces of them and known they were there."

"Christ," he mutters. You tug on his arm and he starts walking again.

"And before we could do anything a runner tackled her to the ground."

Joel curses under his breath. "Unlucky."

It starts to snow. You look up at the white flakes falling from the dark sky as you figure out how to say what happened next.

"Go on," Joel says, softly. "This is the part that bothered you, I reckon."

"She didn't even scream, Joel," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "She just went down."

"Ah."

All of it comes to a boil and the words pour out of you.

"I mean, why did she shoot in the first place? She was jumpy, sure, but she was alone, too. She looked so tired, so desperate, and the way it lunged for her I know it didn't kill her on the first bite. No screaming, she just took it. She took it and gave up. I don't -- she must have had nothing, to give up like that. It's just so fucked up --"

Your voice breaks. Joel pulls you to a stop and unwinds your arms so he can put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ain't nothin' you can do about someone else's lot," he says. "She made her mistakes."

"I know," you retort, "but that could have been me."

"It ain't you."

"But it could have been, Joel!" You're not angry with him, but you're frustrated. "If things had worked out differently for me, it could have been. If I never found Jackson, if I was still out there. It could have been me."

He exhales sharply, reigning in his own desire to remind you that you're safe. That you're here, that you're with him. That he won't let anything bad happen to you.

"Lots of things could be different," he says, slowly. "Could spend days thinkin' 'bout that stuff. Years."

"I guess I'm just sad for her." The snow has gathered in Joel's hair and you reach for him to brush it away. He allows it, keeping his eyes on yours. "I think she wanted to die."

"It's a hard life on the road."

You sigh. "I know, Joel," you say. "I just -- it's been a long time since things have been that bad for me. And it was hard to be reminded, you know?"

His hands move from your shoulders to cup your face, thumbs your skin. "I know, sweetheart," he replies. "We've all been there. Hard not to think about givin' up at least once in this shit hole."

It gets a dry laugh out of you.

"But you ain't givin' up. You fight tooth and nail every single time 'cause you've got so much to get back to. And it'll get you home."

You lean into one of his palms, your lips brushing along the heel of his hand. "I know, Joel."

He's not done. "For a long time I was like that. Not carin' much how things went, so long as I got to get my hands dirty. But Ellie --" he swallows, the love he has for his girl getting in the way of his words " -- and you tie me to this damn place. Make me get up every day, make me remember how things can be good. And someday it'll be my turn --"

"Joel--"

"No, listen. Someday it'll be my turn, and I'll go knowin' I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to get what I got. Time."

You can't take it anymore. You pitch forward into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. Now that he's said it, you realize why the whole thing bothered you so much. You don't want to die. You don't want to lose the life you have now. The home you have with this man, the way he loves you. The way you love him. It makes you feel human, it makes you feel alive.

And you feel damn bad for anyone who doesn't have something to live for.

Joel's hand presses into your spine. Maybe in a different life you'd be worried that he'd think you're silly for being so bothered about this, but he always takes you seriously. You both know how quickly you can lose something, how much it matters to make the time you have count.

"Thank you," you say into his jacket. He scoffs.

"C'mon, now." He gently pulls away from your embrace to look at you. He brushes snow from your shoulders and hat with careful fingers. "Let's go home."

Home. For so long you never thought you'd have one.

Joel must see the vulnerability in your eyes because he leans in to press his lips to yours gently. An anchoring touch, a reminder of how he feels.

"Getting frisky, Mr. Miller," you mutter when he pulls away. He snickers and you sneak another kiss as he pinches your hip through your coat.

"Home," he says again.

You couldn't agree more.

[ghost-proofbaby]

foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m getting the watch.” 

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. 

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.” 

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.” 

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them. 

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better. 

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.” 

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now. 

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you. 

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.” 

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine. 

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal. 

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you. 

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?” 

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly. 

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?” 

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it. 

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.” 

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch. 

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.” 

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now. 

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time. 

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you. 

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him. 

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe. 

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely. 

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?” 

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. 

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.” 

“Wait, babe, no!” 

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.” 

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around. 

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it. 

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago. 

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred. 

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?” 

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.” 

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all. 

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because. 

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…” 

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.” 

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime. 

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him. 

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day. 

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder. 

Our wedding. 

It has a nice ring to it. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time. 

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year. 

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted. 

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

[joshujin]

#11: i can’t promise you that x jeonghan 🙏🏼

(っ˶˘ ᵕ ˘˶)ᐣ✎ ᝰ request from this prompt game

can't promise you that

pairing: jeonghan x reader cw: mention of weed, cheating (not b/w main characters), toxic hannie <3 a/n: sorry, my brain is stuck on cheating rn since i’ve been working on “dude, nice try!” lol. hope you like this!

you exit your apartment, hulking trash bag in hand. it’s heavy, burning your forearm as you attempt to keep it off the ground, and you curse yourself for never taking the garbage out earlier, when it’s still a manageable weight.

you turn into the hallway to get downstairs to the dumpster when you find someone you don’t recognize trying to enter your neighbor, jiyeon’s, apartment. he’s crouched in front of the door, one knee on the floor like he’s been there long enough, he got tired of standing.

“what the fuck?” he mutters to himself as he puts in a code and the lock beeps erratically.

the stranger doesn’t notice you until you come to a stop a few paces away and let your trash hit the floor with an unceremonious clunk.

his frame stiffens but he doesn’t look up immediately, instead opting to side-eye you. he must have mistaken you for somebody else because he releases the tension in his shoulders and sighs, turning to you with a slightly strained but winsome smile.

you've definitely never seen this person; you would've remembered.

“hi!” he says a little too loudly. a little too brightly.

you frown. “why are you trying to get into jiyeon’s apartment?”

“‘hi! how are you?’ ‘i’m fine, thanks! my name is jeonghan, and you are?’” he mumbles sarcastically to himself as he turns back away from you to tinker with the lock again.

“i don’t know if i owe good manners to strange men trying to get into my neighbor’s apartment,” you say, crossing your arms as you cautiously watch him put in another wrong password.

obviously giving up, he reaches up into his chin-length hair, undoes a bobby pin, and to your horror, he shoves it into the key hole and starts violently jiggling.

you really need to be better about bringing your stun gun out with you. in fact, maybe you need to be better about not confronting strangers at all.

“well, good thing i’m not a strange man,” jeonghan exclaims, raising his eyebrows and shooting you a closed, tight-lipped smile. the hair that was previously pinned back now sweeps down into his face and he has to keep shaking it back to see properly. “i’m jiyeon’s friend.”

against your better judgment, you relax a little at that. “friend,” you repeat, deadpan. “well, i’ve never seen you around.”

he snorts but he’s obviously unamused. “i’ve been here. not often, but i have,” he says, sighing when it’s clear the violent jiggling isn’t helping. he takes a breath like he needs to calm down before trying a gentler approach. “jiyeon is having a family emergency. she asked me to stop by and get her some stuff she needs.”

“oh,” you breathe, letting your arms fall from where they were stubbornly crossed. “i’m sorry to hear that. is she okay?”

jeonghan tilts his head and squints one eye like he’s thinking. “uhhhh, yeah? for the most part?” you take it he’s too distracted with the door to talk normally. “she’s just not answering her phone and she changed the code since i last came.”

he says that last part like it’s the biggest inconvenience of his life.

“well, i’m sure if you explain, the landlord can open the door for you!”

“nah, don’t wanna bother them this late.”

“it’s only eight,” you inform him.

he glances up at you and laughs a little like he can’t believe he’s here. “like i said, late. they’re probably off the clock.”

“oh no, minghao is available around the clock!” jeonghan’s fingers work quicker now. “he’s really great about helping his tenants! well... he'll probably complain a little, but he's still going to insist on helping. i know where he lives! he's just one floor up!” the knob shakes from how fast he’s moving, quickly entering violent jiggling territory again. “i can go and get—”

the lock clicks and the door swings open, jeonghan practically falling over and into the apartment from how heavily he was leaning on it. you hear the sound of plastic crinkling from the pocket of his hoodie as he quickly gets up, gestures to the door, and smiles politely.

“no need! see? got it! thanks for the company!” he doesn’t bid you goodbye as he steps into jiyeon’s apartment and closes the door behind him.

you want to huff at him for being rude, but you know you also didn't give him a proper greeting, so you probably deserved that. you sigh as you bend to grab your trash bag, groaning when you remember how heavy it is.

you make your way down the stairs, trash heavy enough that you have to stop every few steps to set it down on the ground. there's only one dumpster for tenants to throw their garbage into, and it's across the apartment building. you know that no matter how much you complain to minghao about how far it is from your unit (and how there's more than enough space for another dumpster at the bottom of the stairs near jiyeon's unit), he won't budge because "you can just take out your trash before it's bursting, you know that, right?"

"jesus, i need to work out more," you pant as you pick up the bag one more time, enduring the burn in your forearm as you try to make it all the way to the dumpster in one go.

you finally make it, and you struggle enough to get it in that you have a thin layer of sweat on your forehead by the time you're done. you turn back the way you came from, eager to get back to your apartment and get ready for bed.

you only make it a few steps up the stairs when you hear: "oh, hey."

you look over your shoulder to find jeonghan at the front gate, his back pressed up against the push bar since his arms are full of random shit. you stop and turn fully to face him without leaving the step.

"hi," you return. "i see you have jiyeon's stuff. that was quick."

"yeah," he laughs a little. "i wanted to—" he wobbles a little when a box almost falls from his little mountain of things. "uh, i—"

jeonghan stops speaking altogether, stepping forward and letting the door close behind him. he walks forward until he's standing just in front of the first step, head slightly craned back to look up at you.

"i wanted to say sorry," he announces. "i might have been a little short with you back there. i was just... kind of stressed, i guess."

"no worries," you assure him. "your friend is having an emergency and her door was giving you a hard time. i get it."

jeonghan smiles and this time, it isn't constricted by the tightness it was before. it dawns on you just how cute his smile is now—the way it makes his cheeks plumper, more prominent, and his eyes pretty crescents.

"right," he says. "thanks for offering your help, though. i appreciate it." you settle for nodding and offering him a smile of your own.

his lips part but nothing comes out as he continues to stare. you try not to fidget, suddenly too aware that your hair is a mess from making dinner, your shirt probably has pasta sauce splatter on it, and you're still a tiny bit sweaty because of the trash—and if you think about it, because of minghao too. mostly because of minghao.

"i, uh... never even got your name."

you raise your eyebrows playfully, suppressing a laugh. "i mean... do you need it?"

his laugh is abrupt and loud like that was the last response he expected. "uh, yeah," he finally says when his laughs subside. "i do."

you hum and nod. "and why is that?"

he shrugs, a faint blush on his cheeks. "what if i want to see you again? how will i find you?"

you smirk, gesturing vaguely to the space around you. "relax, prince charming, you literally know where i live."

he rolls his eyes in exasperation. "are you always this difficult with men who want your number?"

"oh is that what you're trying to get?" you ask. "because you asked me for my name."

he grins. "well?"

you fake a sigh of defeat as you take the few steps down and meet him on solid ground. his head is tilted down to look at you, and you realize you enjoy the constant attention now that he's not so preoccupied with a lock.

you tell him your name and he repeats it, staring so intently at you, you almost want to take a step back. instead, you do the opposite, taking a tiny step forward when you notice something in jeonghan's hair. you reach up and grab it, realizing it's a fleck of glitter.

jeonghan pays it no mind. "is there anything else you want to give me?"

that makes you laugh. "sure. it's—"

"hands are kind of preoccupied," he reminds you, giving you a sheepish smile.

your eyes fall to the items his arms hold tightly to his torso, and you tilt your head in confusion as you process what he's gathered for jiyeon's family emergency for the first time.

one medium sized file box, a quart-sized ziploc bag with a glass pipe, a grinder, and a smaller baggie of bud in it, several hoodies, two boxes of lego sets, and a few books.

you frown skeptically. "what... interesting things jiyeon needs for her... emergency..."

jeonghan follows your gaze and nods. "yeah, what can i say? girl has her priorities all mixed up."

you look back up at him, and you think he's too laidback to be telling you anything but the truth, but his eyes also flit back and forth between you and jiyeon's items before finally staying on you. and when they decide to stay on you, they stay on you. piercing and purposeful and like he'd have to die before he took his eyes off you.

you have no idea if you're being dumb. you do know you hate your hormones because the reaction your body has to jeonghan's steady gaze pushes you to throw caution to the wind.

"i'll give you my number..." you say slowly and hesitantly. "but you have to promise me you're not some kind of little, evil demon man who robs people on his downtime."

jeonghan grins. "i can't promise you that," he says, voice low and eyes full of mischief. "but," he interjects when you're about to complain, "i can promise you i have never robbed a person in my entire life."

you snort at the admission that he could still be an evil demon. "okay, fine. give me your phone."

"again, hands preoccupied."

you scoff. "okay... how are you going to take my number?"

"on my phone."

you narrow your eyes at him. "so give me y—"

"it's in my back pocket," he says, shit-eating smirk on his face now.

you fight to keep your own grin off your face, lips puckering and tongue poking the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling and enabling him.

"and i can't really reach back there and grab it..." he sighs dramatically. "so you're going to have to."

you laugh humorlessly, glaring at the ceiling above you two for a moment before shaking your head and stepping forward.

"i see why you couldn't promise me you weren't a demon," you mutter. "which one?"

"left."

you reach around him, trying to be brave and maintain his intense eye contact as your hand meets the denim of his jeans. but in the game of sexually tense staring, jeonghan seems to be a champion. you look away when your hand slips into this pocket, freezing when your fingers meet nothing.

you look back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

his smirk deepens. "oh, sorry. my left. your right."

your eyebrows settle into a glare. "funny."

without warning, you pinch his butt through the denim before taking your hand back and quickly grabbing his phone out of his other pocket. he flinches a little but his face turns a shade of pink that tells you he liked it.

"okay," you say once you're done. "it's in there."

instead of slipping it back into his jeans, you rest it on top of the pile of hoodies.

"i'll call you," jeonghan says, looking too proud of himself for scoring your number. you like it, though—feeling like you're a prize he just won.

"do that."

he doesn't call; he texts. and he texts just 30 minutes later. you're about to open it when you hear a bloodcurdling shriek from the hallway. you're up and outside in seconds, finding yourself in front of jiyeon's apartment, where her door is wide open and she's standing just a few steps inside, her hands over her mouth.

you're mortified when you look inside.

it looks like someone ate three tons of glitter and then promptly threw it up in jiyeon's living room. every surface, every cushion, every screen—everything is covered in glitter.

"oh my god..." you breathe.

jiyeon whirls around to look at you and she shrieks again, making you flinch. you two never really had the chance to get close because the sheer volume of her voice overstimulated you.

"can you believe this?!" she screams. "what the fuck is this?!"

your mouth stops functioning properly, simply opening and closing like a dumb fish. do you tell her her friend did this? well, obviously he's not her friend! your stomach twists. i gave this psycho my number.

she gasps sharply and you follow her gaze. she stomps over to a note on the counter and reads it out loud.

"jiyeon, i wanted to celebrate you and your relationship with m—"

her eyes widen comically as she continues to read silently. her jaw drops as far as you think it can humanly go before clamping shut with a threatening snap.

"are you fucking kidding me?!" she shouts before simply screaming at the top of her lungs and tearing the note apart.

you slowly back away from the open door, leaving jiyeon to her meltdown and escaping back into your apartment. you don't need to be there when she realizes all the random things jeonghan did steal.

in a daze, you settle back into your couch and you unlock your phone.

you suppose things can be worse. you just can't ever cheat on jeonghan. and with your spotless track record and his face looking the way it does, that will be incredibly easy.

[kkuzushi]

Haii, it's been a while but can I request sub!scaramouche smut again? Feel free to ignore if not comfortable but I can't stop thinking about him in women's Lingerie while you praise him and kiss him all over, thrusting into him gently while he cries in your arms basically melting from you being so gentle? Thank youu!! ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

-🎸anon

“ 𝗣𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗥𝗮𝘄 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: scara in lingerie, gentle sex, praising, dacryphilia(?), angst if you squint, penetration (either cock/strap; not mentioned)

✦ 𝘄ord count: 943

✦ 𝗻otes: Hello, 🎸 anon! It surely has been a while. This one is shorter than my previous works since I got straight to the point, I do hope it’s still enjoyable. Maybe this could be my D1 for Kinktober?? [PS: here’s the reference for the lingerie]

Being vulnerable was seen as a weakness by The Balladeer. Over the centuries, he mastered the ability of hiding the flaws he had always seen in himself, never allowing to open up with others. It was shameful; letting his guard down, inviting ridicules and betrayals.

He'll never allow such a thing to happen again.

So why were there pitiful sobs coming out of his mouth? Why were warm tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes? No matter how much he suppressed them, it continued, along with sniffles he desperately tried to silence.

There laid the puppet in his most delicate form—adorned with black, babydoll lingerie. The off-shoulder garment stretched back up as his arms clung around your neck. Its flowy and see-through fabric teased your eyes, subtly revealing his slender body beneath it.

“You're breathtaking,” You whisper, pressing your hips firmly against his. He'd shoot a glare if he wasn't distracted by the slow, tantalizing rhythm of your movements. Breathtaking? That almost made him scoff, when in truth, you were the one that's taking his breath away.

“Shut–mnhah..! ♡” Scaramouche tried to retort only to fail as a shiver ran through his body. His usual sharp tongue faltered, leaving him flustered and struggling to regain his composure.

A chuckle left your lips, the desire to push him further fueled by his reactions. Each time you thrust into him, a kiss was planted on his neck. This was too much, you were simply too gentle.

“Are you embarrassed?” You asked softly, sweeping his disheveled bangs away from his face, revealing the red tint around his cheeks.

“Embarrassed?” Scaramouche repeated, his flustered expression increasing before attempting to retort once more, “D-Don’t make me lau—hAH♡♡ngmm..?!~”

As he feels your mouth latch on to the soft skin of neck, a mewl emits out of him. Sucking so gently yet firmly, this would for sure leave a mark. Still, you kept in mind to leave it somewhere less provocative—knowing Scaramouche, he'd complain about it the next day.

You pulled away shortly after, seeing the small red mark on his neck, “We're the only ones here, dearest,” you continued, coaxing the puppet out of the walls he built around himself.

The Balladeer's pride was slowly crumbling, your comforting presence mixed with your intimate gestures, and the way you nestled inside him.. archons, what did he do to deserve this?

His very existence had always been marred with abandonment, rejection, and betrayal.. yet here you were, making him feel accepted, cherished even. Just the thought of it brings him to tears.

“You’re so.. annoying..” He sniffled, his voice trembling as he tried to maintain his pride. His eyes darted away from your gaze, but despite his words, his actions betrayed him. His legs wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer, almost instinctively seeking more of your warmth.

With you settled deeper inside him, a sigh collectively escapes the both of you. “Let me hold your hand,” You murmur softly, lifting yourself just enough to free his arms from around your neck. Your fingers find his, intertwining gently as you guide his hands to yours.

Scaramouche's eyes flicker towards your hands, “Hnm.. you’re too gentle,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the words themselves pained him to speak.

“You deserve it.”

“No..! I don't–”

Before Scaramouche could finish, your lips pressed firmly against his, silencing his protest. His breath hitched in surprise, his hands tightened around yours, trembling slightly as he kissed you back, hesitantly at first then with growing need.

As the two of you get lost in the kiss, your hips start to move again, languidly thrusting into him. The puppet's whimpers are muffled into the kiss—he gasps and you take the opportunity, entering his mouth with your tongue, exploring the warm cavern.

“Mmph..!♡ Hnmm..” His eyes are shut tight, tears spilling uncontrollably. Every movement you give him is slow and gentle, yet filled with intensity that makes him want more. It almost made him feel guilty, if it wasn't for the way your thumb caresses his hands, your bodies meeting each other in a tender dance.

Soon, you pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting both of you. Scaramouche's eyes slowly opened and you instantly noticed how they've softened.

“Kuni, my good boy–”

“Don't call me that!” Scaramouche quickly cut you off, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment and frustration.

“But you are my good boy ♡,” You repeat while kissing his chest, the lingerie obstructing the sensation. A sigh escapes your lips as you rest your head on his chest, the absence of a heartbeat catching your attention.

“There's nothi–mm♡ngh! nothing.. for you to hear..” Scaramouche sobbed, his voice wavering with the weight of his emotions. How he wished he had a heartbeat for you to hear. If there ever was, he bet it would be racing faster than he could imagine.

You smile softly, guiding one of his hands to your chest. "Then I'll just share mine with yours ♡, " you murmur. His fingers press against your skin, feeling the steady thrum of your heart. It reminds him of enemies on the verge of their end, frantic and fearful. But with you, it felt different—grounding, safe.

Suddenly, a warmth poolrd in his stomach. Butterflies? No, this sensation was too familiar. "W-Wait... I think I'm going to..." The harbinger gasped, his breath hitching as your pace quickened, pushing him closer to the edge.

"Me too," you sighed, your voice now breathless. Scaramouche could feel your heartbeat racing against his hand, the rhythm matching the rising tension between you both as the two of you chased release.

“Cum with me, Kuni. ♡”

“Y-Yes.. hahn..♡♡ yes please..♡”

[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, so, let's entertain the idea the ryliver stuff is one big distraction and Ryan is leaving for whatever reason that has twitter's panties in a twist. Ryliver did stuff together when Eddie was introduced, which makes sense, since Ryan was just getting to the cast, Eddie was written in to be Buck's partner in the field, but when they realized the people were shipping buddie, the show stopped letting them do stuff together for official purposes. They didn't even allow the 2 of them to stand next to each other after 2a ended. There was NOTHING in an official capacity to promote the show with Oliver and Ryan (tsunami? nothing. well? nothing. shooting? nothing. will reveal? nothing. eddie's breakdown? nothing) until the ET tv spot for s6. They got like 15 seconds of classical ryliver flirting in. Then nothing until the space between 703 and 704. They did a bunch of tv spots talking about the show. Then nothing until now, even though there were a lot of moments where it would make sense, Buck's coming out scene, Chris leaving, Eddie leaving. Why? Because they know queerbaiting is a marketing tactic. And they know that if they don't let Oliver and Ryan out together, they are mostly safe from the accusations. I think they are toeing the line, but for all we know they are terrified of the allegations, to the point that Oliver has fought with people on the internet about it before. Using ryliver will always feel like they are teasing buddie. That's a fact. So they are careful with how they use the two of them together. But using them right now without an actual follow-through in the show would kill the show. Everyone is pissed. They killed Bobby, and not only did they kill him, they leaked Bobby dead and buried alive before it aired and Bobby is still dead. They have 1 (one) trick up their sleeve to retain their current audience and draw in a new type of audience for s9. And that's buddie. Buddie is a one-of-a-kind ship because they would be the first queer slow burn in a procedural where neither of them was introduced as queer. This would be history in the making. Especially because they have an actual foundation with everything that happened to them. BUT this only works if the audience doesn't feel like it's them trying to cover their asses for a bad writing decision. So if they use ryliver as a distraction now without actual explicit follow-through on the show, I don't mean a kiss or getting together, in this case, a feeling realization would be enough since Eddie is still straight for all we know, they are in for a whole summer of people accusing them of queerbaiting to turn down the heat about Bobby's death, and with a reason. Because Oliver and Ryan aren't doing a few tv spots talking about filming in the middle of the ocean, they are doing thirst tweets with Buzzfeed and a 10-minute segment on ET where they interview each other that's marketed as "We're spilling the tea with Hollywood's favorite couples and biggest stars." I'm sorry, Oliver and Ryan are not "biggest stars", they're not even breaking top 3 on the main cast of the show, or an irl couple. Doing what they are doing now if nothing happens for buddie on the show is pouring gasoline into a pr crisis. They're already on fire over the Bobby stuff, using ryliver to be "oh they are brothers hihi" in current climate, will make people not watch s9. And they can't afford that because buddie is the one thing they can pull out of their sleeves to have any hope of a viewing anywhere near the one it had this season. If nothing happens, then s7 and 8 suddenly becomes a masterclass in queerbaiting. They literally can't afford that because this show is expensive as fuck to make for them to shoot themselves in the head twice in a row. So either something is happening or we are watching the show commit suicide.

[ohburgee]

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Noli x Myth-Hunter!Reader

tw: implied physical violence, threatening behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior an: i can't stop thinking about Noli so i decide to make a fic of him then i remember when i was a myth hunter before with no knowledge about ways of hunting, try to investigate Noli because i was interested on his myth story. summary: you are a myth hunter deicide to visit Noli once again after you heard about him disappear and no news about him, you decide to check him on his place when you got captured and teleported to this mysterious place.

You feel a sharp pain in your head as you try to clear your blurry vision. Slowly, you sit up from the ground. Once your vision begins to clear, you look around, confused and disoriented.

You don’t remember much, but one thing is certain; you were captured. Now, you’re in some unfamiliar place.

Another strange, mysterious location... You rise to your feet, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You’re used to this, these weird, unexplained situations. As a myth hunter, you’ve learned to face whatever lies ahead, even if it means risking your life.

You begin walking, carefully observing your surroundings like you always do. It’s quiet. No signs of people. You’re unsure of where you are, but you keep going.

Eventually, you reach what appears to be the center of a map. Behind a large, untouched stone, you spot a broken generator. You approach it cautiously and begin fixing it. Just as you're about to finish, you see movement, someone running.

Two figures come into view. They stop when they notice you, just as confused as you are. You look at them with suspicion while continuing to work on the generator.

“Who are you two?” you ask.

“I’m Elliot, and this is Shedletsky,” one of them replies. You study their faces, still unsure.

“Where am I?” you ask, trying to piece together the situation.

They exchange confused glances. Before they can answer, a loud thud echoes nearby. Elliot grabs your wrist, and the three of you sprint into a nearby cave.

“I swear, what the hell is going on!?” you demand.

Elliot cautiously peeks outside. “Answer me,” you insist.

“We’re in a survival game,” Elliot says. “We have to survive until the round ends.”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you mutter, pacing in a small circle as you try to recall what happened. That’s when you notice a shadow approaching from outside the cave.

You turn to Elliot and point toward a broken hole in the wall. He quickly understands and pulls Shedletsky with him into hiding.

You duck behind a large rock just as someone slowly enters the cave. You hold your breath, heart pounding. Searching for a distraction to get out, you spot some small rocks nearby. You toss one to the opposite side of the cave. The figure in purple-glitching smoke pauses and turns toward the sound. You throw another rock, drawing their attention further away.

Once the coast is clear, you rush over and whisper for Elliot and Shedletsky to move. Grabbing them, you all sprint for the exit, until the figure notices and acts.

A tendril shoots toward you three. Without thinking, you shove Elliot and Shedletsky out of the way. Then you freeze.

Your eyes widen.

It’s Noli.

How? Was he the one who captured you and brought you here?

He gazes at you, amused, smiling in recognition. He remembers you.

You hear Elliot and Shedletsky calling you. You glance back at them, but Noli’s gaze shifts to the two and he begins to pursue them. “Run!” you yell, and they do.

You chase after him. You know Noli better than they do. He’s worse, far worse, than any other myth you’ve encountered.

But you lose them in the chase. When you finally catch up, your heart drops. Elliot and Shedletsky are suspended by tendrils, hanging upside down.

You kick at the tendrils, trying to free them, when suddenly, everything goes dark.

Your vision clouds with thick, suffocating fog. You look around, trying to see through the haze. “I know it’s you,” you mutter, spinning to catch a glimpse of him.

You hear footsteps, then laughter. It rings in your ears. This is new. You don’t remember Noli having this kind of power.

Then you see him, smiling.

“Hello, my lovely hunter,” he greets, and tendrils coil around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

“I’m so glad you arrived safely, no injuries from the teleport,” he says as your vision clears, revealing his new form.

“What do you want, Noli!?” you snap, struggling in the tendrils.

He chuckles, circling you like a predator. His gaze is intense.

“When I was offered something greater, I took it,” he says. “The Forsaken made me stronger than a mere myth.”

You blink, confused.

“I’m no longer just a myth. I’ve become something far more powerful, this new body, this power… and I accepted the role of killer in this game.”

He draws you closer with the tendrils and gently brushes his hand against your cheek.

“I love this new me. The thrill of hunting, the fun of killing, chasing prey like a true predator.”

He laughs again, clearly enjoying every second.

“And now, with my favorite myth hunter here… doesn’t that sound fun?” he whispers before suddenly kissing your cheek.

“You’re no longer out there investigating and searching for answers. You’re stuck here with me now. And I’ll make sure you see me.”

[222col]

please write something about danny lyon! anything really. pleaaaaaase pleaaaase pleaaaaaaaase <3333

+ what about bimbo!reader and danny lyon?? him making photos of us in cute lace?!?!?!

bimbo!reader x danny lyon

summary: danny wants to take some pictures of his pretty girl on his bike

cw .ᐟ nsfw, public setting

꒰ notes ꒱ thank u for the reqs anons <3333 i need to rewatch bikeriders immediately

danny had been taking pictures of you since the moment you met, always snapping photographs in any situation possible. you signed up for that, the second you agreed to date a documentary photographer. you didn't mind, it was nice, actually. he'd always have his cheeky smile on his face every time he looked at you through the lens. almost like he couldn't believe you really were on the other side of the camera, you were real, and you were his.

"you're so damn pretty, doll," he murmurs from behind his film camera, looking over to you perched upon his bike. pink sheer babydoll dress on your body, a soft blush on your cheeks at his words. "you really think so?" you mumble, batting your lashes to him, your legs dangling over the side of his bike. "oh yeah, baby, fuckin' gorgeous."

he'd finally gotten you to agree to a planned shoot, unlike the candids he usually took of you. danny loved how perfectly you juxtaposed his usual pictures, placing his bike in the backyard with his pretty girl on top. he had to force down groans, watching the curve of your back as you leant forward to grasp the handlebars. how sweet the pink fabric looked on your skin against the black metal of his bike. clicking the shutter through chuckles at your little gasp as you accidentally rev the engine.

danny was already on his third roll of film, unable to stop himself from filling up roll after roll of pictures of you. "doll, ya think you'd mind takin' off the dress?" he can't help but snap a picture of the shy look on your face at his question, your bottom lip between your teeth as you mull it over. "just for me, baby, won't show no one else."

his jeans were already growing tight at just the shy smile and little nod you gave, sliding the extra fabric off of your body. looking around the houses surrounding you as you sit upon his bike in just your lacy pink lingerie. "don't worry, pretty girl, no one's lookin'." danny murmurs softly, camera back up to his face, watching you through the viewfinder as you start to get comfortable again.

walking closer to you, shooting you from different angles, gently instructing you into different poses. his hand leans over to the handlebar when you're distracted, testing a theory, shall we say. "oh!" you gasp slightly, biting your lip as your eyes widen. danny's hand stays gently revving the engine, as he lets the camera drop down to sit around his neck. "oh..." you whimper softly, holding his gaze. he can barely take watching you, out in the open like this as the vibrations run through you.

"danny!" you gasp, giggling as he hoists you up over his shoulder, with one thing in mind. his hand spread across your ass, carrying you inside through the back porch. "too fuckin' pretty, doll."

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.