#fucking up particularly bad at practice after a long day is always like. it adds a percent or two im not gonna lie

[technicolorxsn]

mobs percentage going up after tripping while running is so real

[crossover-enthusiast]

I blame you for reminding me I did that idea of the monster town AU, I have to give you my own ideas now.

Michelle: A skinwalker and the first monster Maurice met when he arrived in town (at first he thought she was human), Michelle made him think she would help him find a way out but uhh. Then she tried to eat him. Luckily for him,Ivan managed to save him just in time.

Carmen: A giant who proclaimed herself queen of the town's mountains. Everyone who lives on her land is practically her slave and those who disobey her will end up under her heels.

Streber: HE'S NOT A VAMPIRE >:), I still don't know what he could be but definitely not a vampire.

Radford: A sleep paralysis demon, He can only communicate with people while they are sleeping and can create nightmares when he manages to possess someone. He is not particularly aggressive but he and his nightmares have been a nuisance to Ivan for years.

Thats it for now :)

OOOOO THESE ARE SO COOL

I think I love skinwalker Michelle in particular because that is just so fucked up it's great

Sleep paralysis demon Rad too!! Hell yes!! That's SO unique. I feel like the nightmares he inflicts onto Ivan are based on movie plots- he's still Radford after all. If he can't watch movies anymore he'll just reenact them with Ivan as his unwitting lead!

Also Streber not being a vampire is funny. Rip bozo /silly Maybe he could be a robot?

Also wanted to add onto this-

Zombie Kevin is hilarious, yes. Sometimes he just falls apart but can easily put himself back together like a lego- however unlike Skid he needs to "manually" reassemble and the only thing that really moves when detached is his head (for obvious reasons), so it's harder for him to find his body parts. One time he lost his bottom jaw for a few days and it was torture

Also I had more monster ideas here you go:

Evermore: gorgon/Medusa type beat, he has a bunch of little snakes and then one big "ruler" snake in place of that bump of hair. Unlike a regular gorgon (or perhaps because of the nature of the town), the petrification from looking into his eyes isn't permanent and wears off after about a day. This has caused Evermore to stone himself multiple times because he keeps trying to look at himself in the mirror. Garcia finds it funny

Speaking of, Garcia! Not quite sure what to do with him, but my current thought is him and Mr. Clown are in a Jekyll and Hyde situation; Garcia is technically still human, but Mr. Clown very much Isn't. He runs on toon logic and wants to beat everyone -- and I mean everyone -- to death with a hammer. When they switch seems to be random, or at least as far as Garcia can tell

Lucky: living scarecrow. He got hung up in the center of town and can't get himself down, so he's just Stuck for a long while. Ivan had always assumed it was a trap and so left him there even if he felt bad about it, and it's not until Maurice shows up and Lucky's able to convince him to help that he actually gets down. On the brightside of Lucky's predicament, being in the center of town means that Lucky's heard a Lot of things and knows way more than he should

Morgana (I am including her as well bc Yes): living doll. She's made voodoo dolls of everyone in town and they actually work as long as she has something from them. She mostly just uses them to fuck with people tho

Also, take a Bonus Thought about the tree entity: she's a woman by the name of Teresa that's been here even longer than Ivan, however when she first came into town she was attacked and ran into the woods. She has stayed there ever since and is Not Doing Good

[ale-cart]

I’m absolutely dying for any information on Dave and Karkat in your gleestuck au. Im obsessed.

Okay so first of all I'm sorry sorry for this being so late- I've had to think real long and hard about what I wanted to add here.

Second, I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this as much as I do. It genuinely makes me so excited when I see y'all's tags and reblogs :')

Hmm I guess I'll start with how they met? Which would be in middle school when karkats family moved to town.

Almost immediately they Didn't like eachother, karkat didn't like Dave because of his "douchebag shades make me want to punch him". And Dave actually didn't mind karkat until he found out why karkat didn't like him, then it was, "Jesus what a prick, maybe I'll fuck with him later."

After that it sort of just began a whole "I can do better than you just watch." Sort of deal, UNTIL karkat started gleeclub in freshman year (when Jake started teaching) Dave basically saw that as karkat trying to one up him again but he legitimately could not join. Mostly because of his dad (bro) having just started being enemies with the glee teacher, and well because he knew he couldn't sing. "Touche vantas"

That being said, Dave had been playing the drums and the piano since before he had met karkat. He would always practice late in the band room when he'd have a particularly bad day, otherwise he'd wait til he was home to use his own.

Funny story actually, karkat (for the longest time) had a crush on dirk. Until he found out that dirk was interested in the schools paranormal obsessed dork. He only found out after accidentally hearing Dave rant to rose about it, afterwards he gave up on liking dirk completely (besides being friends).

Junior year, Karkat has just heard about dirk wanting to try out (due to johns antics) and went to look for him to ask to do a duo together. That's when he passed the band room and accidentally seen Dave just hammering on his drums. He then sort of snuck in, about to give Dave an earful about being in there without permission, when he actually listened to what Dave was playing and "woah isn't that one of the songs we were practicing earlier?"

Which Dave didn't hear obviously, but when he looked up and saw karkat you bet your ass it scared the shit out of him, falling out of his chair and on his ass with surprise.

That's when karkat just sort of blurts out that he should try out for glee, that they needed more people anyways and since his brother was joining he might as well too. Dave immediately shuts him down, making a joke about being too good for the club which pisses karkat off and gives him a new purpose at the school.

Getting Dave strider to join glee club.

Which proves to be a bigger hassle than he'd imagine because damn, striders are really fucking stubborn. But so was karkat, and eventually he had to settle with what they were best at doing. He called Dave out for being a Wuss, practically. Told him that he was admitting that karkat was better than him because he wouldn't join.

Dave being, well, Dave. Immediately jumped to being defensive, "fuck it! I'll join!" And boy did he, and boy did he like it, and boy was karkat getting cute? Oh shit.

I'll leave this here before it gets too much longer haha, but please! Feel free to ask me more, there's so much I can say on this au (there's so much for everyone please ask me about everyone pls pls)

[fortunawren]

lyrics ii;

This could be a meditation practice, but honestly, I was just trying to pass the time when I wrote these.

I shuffled my playlist for this one.

“Ace of Hearts” by Zella Day

For me, it’s the opening of the song:

“Caught you at midnight Not in my right mind What you're afraid of Is where I just came from An ugly confession I think that I'm broken When I try to be open I get the feeling that I'm giving up on something I love, too much The sweetest misery that's taking me, I'm lost in the rush.”

“Official” by Charli XCX

I overplayed this song circa 2021 as if it was a lifeline. I have a fond memory of leaving the DMV after moving back to Charleston after five years and poorly belting out this song with my Honda windows down. (I miss my Honda sometimes, she was my baby)

*“Look at us Isn't it obvious? Is it so dangerous? Is it so complicated?

You know the shapes my body makes Under the sheets at 4 AM with you The things that we break when we're switching positions You know the words to my mistakes You understand because you made 'em too

The things that I say when you don't wanna listen Things that you say when I make bad decisions Things that we do by the sink in my kitchen I remember our first date No chocolate and no bouquet But the way that you kissed me These are the things that could make us official.”*

“Slide Away” by Miley Cyrus

Of course this song came out after Cyrus announced her divorce to Liam Hemsworth. I’ve always loved her voice.

“Once upon a time, it was made for us Woke up one day, it had turned to dust Baby, we were found, but now we're lost So it's time to let it go I want my house in the hills Don't want the whiskey and pills I don't give up easily But I don't think I'm down So won't you slide away Back to the ocean, I'll go back to the city lights So won't you slide away.”

“It’s Been Awhile” by Staind

This is a particularly triggering song for me but also a favorite lyrically. I was involved with SH as a young teenager and I would overplay this song to try to process my emotions and the trauma around me. As an adult, it speaks different volumes on addiction and accountability.

“Why must I feel this way? Just make this go away Just one more peaceful day And it's been awhile Since I could look at myself straight And it's been awhile Since I said I'm sorry And it's been awhile Since I've seen the way the candles light your face And it's been awhile But I can still remember just the way you taste And everything I can't remember As fucked up as it all may seem to be, and I know it's me I cannot blame this on my father He did the best he could for me”

“What If We Could” by Blue October

I always use this song in my manufactured intense romantic pairings as a writer. It’s sexy, it’s dark, it’s longing, and it’s a different version of love.

“It's like a last chance For a first dance You're a sunrise Can't somehow exist I would meet you Would you meet me? I'm glad to say that we've met But I'm sad to say that the circumstances weren't On our side So go on Go on be your own Go on be your own star A superstar in my eyes”

“papercuts” by Machine Gun Kelly

Don’t come for me (or do). I actually enjoy his music. The song that came up on my shuffle was the album version which is different from the single version in lyrics. He edited to add a small dig at Kanye West (👀👀) most likely in response to his friendship with Pete Davidson.

It’s definitely about the fine print of reading your contract, and understanding a life of fame. It serves as a cautionary tale.

“I spend a lot of nights thinking I might go to sleep and never wake up. I spend a lot of money on these therapy sessions Even though I'm not showing up I spend a lot of time healing my mind and my heart But I still put these drugs in my gut Me and my girl were just screaming at each other Right before we both got out of the truck I got some demons inside I'm tryna free them inside I'm from the Cleveland East Side Where the boy who was just starving with you Now might try to eat you alive, damn Y'all said that I switched genres I saw the limit and took it farther I'm a genius, could've made Donda But this song is for my dead father”

I’ll probably do this again.

(Plot twist: I did)

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[berriniki]

[6:57 PM] — sim jake

includes: gn! reader, past lovers, exes, longing(jake is yearning a lot), angst(???), lapslock intended

wc: 979

jake sighed.

let’s breakup

it was a text message, sent not too long ago, by his now ex-girlfriend. he didn’t feel necessarily hurt by the breakup, more so hurt that it was over a text but if you were to ask if him how he felt about it, he would probably shrug and say that it was bound to happen. he’'''s not dumb. he knows why he can’t keep a relationship for more than a couple months.

you never ask me out on dates.

you always seemed so distant.

we’re practically friends that happen to kiss everyday.

he knows, knows that despite the fact he is emotionally unavailable, he keeps looking for more relationships to sate whatever dwells in his heart. they’re nice at first, being able to have someone’s lips pressed against his even if he knows he will stop seeing them after a couple months, having someone’s body against his and savoring that warmth that his cold body craves. it’s short-lived, only lasting until one of them gets bored, and it’s usually whatever partner jake has tied to him at the time.

he turns on his phone and before he realizes it, he clicks onto your contact.

his phone rings one, then twice, and then it clicks.

“hello?”

god, he loves your voice.

“hey.”

he can hear you smile.

“what is it this time, jake?”

jake calls you all the time, calls you nearly every single day even after you two broke up.

“my girlfriend broke up with me.” like he said, he isn’t necessarily sad about it, but since it happened, might as well use it as an excuse to call you. you sigh.

“again?”

jake tells you all the time of his exes and his failed relationships, recounting every one of them as they came into the comfort of your room or maybe his living room.

“yeah...again.” he says, his mouth running dry in between.

“that’s a shame. i liked her too.”

jake wants to say something that she did not like you, and actually talked bad about you behind his back because she knew he wouldn’t tolerate it if she told him her true feelings for you.

all he does is talk about them, it’s so fucking annoying.

and a load of other colorful insults tacked in between each sentence. he’s heard it all, none of his exes particularly liking you because everyone but you seem to be painfully aware of the fact that he still longs for you. there were some he liked, ones that weren’t mean to you, but rather, they were just so sad when they met you because they knew how much he cared for you and not them.

he felt bad for them the most.

“can i come over?” he asks. “i need someone right now.” he decides to add.

he doesn’t need someone, he just needs you. you’re the only someone he needs. you chuckle, and the noise still makes his stomach stir like it did all those years ago.

“sure, you can cry on my shoulder. you always do.” you joke, but you’re not wrong. he always finds his way back to you. not just after breakups but for anything. he finds himself holding himself back more after you two broke up. he had to stop himself from texting you so many times, had to remind himself he doesn’t need to talk to you everyday anymore, and for the days after you two broke up, he had to remind himself that he can’t call you everyday.

“i’ll see you in a bit.” you’re only a couple blocks away but he’s going to sprint because he just wants to see you.

you hum.

“see you soon then.” you hang up the phone and then jake is left staring at his screen, your contact staring back at him. it’s a picture of when you two were still together, a picture of you kissing his cheek and he’s smiling so widely.

he doesn’t remember the last time he smiled like that for someone.

he misses you even though he’s going to be seeing you in a couple minutes, already getting up to grab his coat and put on his sneakers to run over to your apartment. he misses you in the way he feels his heart sinking into itself, like he hasn’t seen you in years. he wants to hold you so badly, but he has to grip his palms behind his back so hard to the point they hurt to hold himself back, especially when you open the door for him when he arrives to your apartment. it’s like coming home after so long, even though he remembers being here just two days ago.

you smile at him warmly, that warmth painfully friendly when all jake wants to do is kiss you until his lips are bright red and your cheeks are flushed the same shade. you welcome him in and take him to your living room, jake’s eyes lingering on your back until he sits down beside you. you resume the movie you were watching, the film playing on your laptop as you bring your knees up to your chest and curl.

he wonders if you notice how much he wants to hold you, tuck you under his arm and into his chest. he longs for you so much, to the point he feels his heart in his throat whenever he sees you, words threatening to spill out of his mouth, words reciting how much he loves you and misses you.

he’ll tell you them soon, show you his heart and hope you accept it again.

but for now, he’ll hold his hands in his lap and spend as much time as he can with you, even if it’s just him watching how your face slightly changes due to the film and listening to your soft mumbling.

a/n: tbh idk if this is even sad LOL

[hareharrison]

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest. 

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?” 

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

[x-chubby-reader]

Hey, how about hcs Ushijima,Terushima, Bokuto and Kuroo getting jealous when their chubby s/o being hitting on right before their eyes 🥴 what would they do? Might as well do nsfw a lil' bit? 🥺

Thank you! I love your works ❤🥰

 Jealous Haikyuu Boys + !NSFW!

Ushijima, Terushima, Bokuto, and Kurro x Plus size reader

A/N - Hope I brought this to justice. I loved this idea a lot but I think they might have made them a little toxic- Also sorry for this being very overdue with writing, but as most of you know my motivation for lots of thing is shit. Also Thanks to @livieeee for basically helping to edit and give ideas for this. I also may add to the other characters NSFW as I accidentally gave Bokuto the most detailed part

Lowercase intended

Not proof read

NSFW included

Cursing

The Characters are all aged up for this Headcannon

Ushijima

we are all very aware about how blunt he is with things

not one to bottle things up

if he doesn't like something, he will voice his opinion

ushijimas blunt ass will sat whatever he wants if he deems that its true

doesn't everyone want to know the truth about things?

he also isn’t one to be easily jealous over things too

his confident ass knows that he’s got you in the long run anyways 

he has complete trust in you, your his rock

ushi knows that you wouldn’t go off to flirt with some douche just for the fun of it

the first time that he had ever found himself jealous was when you had dragged him out to your friends birthday party in college

he wouldn’t of even gone if you hadn't forced him out to be social and to make some friends with people his own age and should get out of the house for something other than practicing with the volleyball team he was on

since the party had been for your friend finally becoming of legal drinking age, of course there had been alcohol

oh i wonder how this liquid luck could get you into a predicament?

you had needed to go to the bathroom, so you gave your boyfriend a little wave before leaving

it should of only taken you about five minutes, and ushi knew that

so when you took over twenty he decided to go looking for you

while he was searching for your thicker frame, you had been quite preocupied with something else

there was this guy, completely drunk off of his ass, who wouldn’t leave you along

“are you lightning? because your my mc-queen”

 just really icky and shitty pick up lines

homeboy was so touchy too omfg like back up ass hat

you hadn't even noticed the amount of time that had passed until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder

boy did that make you jump

and he looked pissed

~Nsfw~

homeboy really said posessive~

ushi literally ripped you away into the bathroom as you had been stuck in the hallways for god knows how long

for once his touch wasn’t gentle with you, it was more rough and less caring

he’s so rough with you right now oml

to make the story short, you won’t be walking easily later

he wants to make you yell out, to show everyone in the premis know that you are his

“how about you let everyone know who you belong to, sweetheart~”

his buff ass literally is holding you up, just fucking railing into you

only stops when he deems that you are done

he even apologizes if he hurt you too badly

cleans the both of you up with one of the guest towels hanging, before walking you ever so gently out to grab a cab and make your way home

Terushima

while the two of you had been out shopping for god know what, you happened to spot an old friend

he was ole of those guy friends that were overly touchy, but you never had really minded it since he was just being nice

your friend had been very high energy and affectionate, but they always meant well

so your boyfriend, terushima, had just smacked a smile on his face and acted as friendly as could be

But he was jealous of all the attention you were giving him

hey you couldn’t help it, you haven’t seen the guy in years

hello? teru is your boyfriend, not this guy!

the look on his face when you exchanged numbers to meet up later

you would of thought that you had just shot his puppy dear lord

he was so god damn sad

“he’s totally trying to get into your pants y/n!”

“no he isn’t teru, he’s just being nice”

“y/n, no-”

your so oblivious to it 

terushima has two levels jealously

he goes from pout-y little kid to complete asshole in a matter of seconds

homeboy is black and white with his personality, there is no gray area with him

even though he isn’t one to keep quiet about something he doesn't like, he did it anyways for your sake

though he glared holes into him

eventually when he had left ho boy did terushima give you an earful

you heard even more when he found about how you made plans with before mentioned friend to have dinner

it was just so the two of you could catch up after the many years that you haddn’t seen each other

“its just dinner”

“y/n its like he’s trying to date you

“can you chill out?”

“no! what? are you dating him now???”

okay he can be a little high strung sometimes, but its something you can tolerate

~NSFW~

remember how you had given him your phone number?

yeah, that may be important

while you had been getting ready for your little ‘dinner date’ with your friend, teru had still been glaring at the back of your head

you could see his annoyed look from the mirror, but you payed him no mind

hey, he would get over it sooner or later

your phone decides to start ringing, and its the guy

teru looks at it, then at you, then back at the phone

he hits answer before handing the phone to you

you decide to start talking, everything is in a friendly tone

and then he decides to play around a bit

a little nip here and there, nothing more nothing less

just to see what his little doll face can handle

then soon he escalates it more and more

soon lurking hands become groping and nips became hickeys

though you had to pretend that everything was hunky dory on your side of the phone

homeboy on the other line didn’t even think anything of it

“hey are you okay?” he had asked once when you particularly couldn’t handle his stimulation

“y-yeah i’m great right now...”

his hand would slip and dip into places that you had forgotten about until now

just the smooth and slick friction would bring heat to your face, though 

that’s when teru had taken the phone back

“screw off your asshat, never call her again!”

and he never did, even if you say him in public, he would walk the other direction 

Bokuto 

the two of you had just been out window shopping and peaking into stores on a saturday

when a store employee had started talking about a popular television show that had aired yesterday, you hadn't thought anything of it

in your mind it would of been rude to ignore them completely,

what if they were just having a bad day and you little small talk and brightened it just a little?

you didn’t want to have something like that on your consensus 

bo had been standing beside you the entire time, and you hadn’t even noticed the way he had stiffened and almost seemed to puff up, like an owl

there had been one person who did notice bokuto’s uneasiness

baby boy had thought that the two of you had been flirting when he walked by

omg he looked so sad

he went from being all perky and happy to looking like a deflated balloon

it was pretty pathetic

sooner or later the worker had felt so awkaward that he left, that’s when you had noticed his discomfort

he had waved if off until the two of you had gotten home, then you finally cornered him and asked

“whats wrong?”

he just rolled his eyes to himself, “you should know!”

yeah just the buffering circle above your head for that one

you really had no idea

“i seriously don’t bo...” 

“yes you do, in the store that worker was totally flirting with you!” he had finally spoke out

oh...

that had made sense you guessed

even though you had apologized to him, he had still been down, even needy

~NSFW~

bo had just been clinging on you for the past hour

if your standing, he’s right behind you, just looming

he became a shadow or a lost puppy, following you everywhere

his arms always found their way to your generous waist, holding onto you as if you would be blown away if a gust of wind decided to make its way though your home

as you had tried to walk down the short hallway that connected your bedroom to the living room, bokuto had stopped the both of you

he looked down to you before grabbing your wrist

bokuto half dragged and half lead you to the shared room you both shared since you moved in together

he had pushed you, not carefully may I add, onto the futon bed

koutarou soon climbed on top of your plush frame, his face lightly dusted in a red hue 

one of his hands wandered down towards the plush button that resided between your thick thighs

the other had cradled the back of your head, pulling you back lightly so he could have more access to your neck and collarbones

bokuto lightly kissed your skin, it didn’t matter if imperfections or not

now this would have been more of a sweet moment if you hadn’t noticed the almost mocking circles you felt at your core

“am i good enough for you now baby owl?”

you would of answered him if you were able to form words, but the amount of stimulation that he was able to give you simply from the tips of his fingers was astonishing

damn boy he got magic hands

you had opened your mouth but no words came out

that had made the two toned haired boy let out a laugh

the only thing that you thought to do was to wrap your arms around his broad back

“speechless, huh” he had taunted you, a smirk on his face

he just kept up his happy little circles, the stimulation bringing a warm, almost butterfly like feeling to your abdomen

 it was if he filled an empty part of you, and you needed him to survive

the tightness in your core had started to bubble, feeling as if you were going to top off the edge and boil over

your former speachless self was soon a babbling mess, telling bo how much you did need him

and even after you had reached and passed your high, he hadn't stopped, he loved the way your words flowed from your mouth in light, breathless pleas

oh he wasn’t even done

play nice you two

Kuroo

out of the two of you, kuroo had always been the more jealous one

baby boy is passive aggressive about it too

he doesn't do the keeping it to himself kind of bullshit

just completely straight to the point

he dosent often become jealous either

kuroo trusts that you wont get flirty or ‘advance’ on anyone else, because you have him for that

why would you need anyone else when he’s right there?

he has the confidence that all of us are jealous of

you and i know that this boy gives little insults to almost everyone

just in a joking and playful way, because that’s just how he communicates to people

but if someone decides to push it

ho boy

mr. rooster man slowly gets more and more passive aggressive

literally they turn into thinly veiled threats

you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears

so imagine his reaction when the waiter at a restaurant had decided to get a little too cozy with interacting with you

kuroo had been sitting right across from you, a pissed off look slapped over his face

who was this asshole and why the fuck was he going after his little kitten?

he had kept his mouth shut but raised an eyebrow at your plush form

it was as if he was asking if you were going to let this guy keep his shitty advances up

you just thought he was being friendly, but according to kuroo he wasn’t

when he had figured that you weren't going to stop him, he spoke up

“lay off dickwad” his voice had been laced with the utmost hate, you had never heard him ever use that tone before

with that, he had grabbed you by the arm before leaving, not paying for the two glasses

~NSFW~

the two of you had gone home in his car

no words had been exchanged between kuroo or you

“you were so into that, weren't you y/n” the bed-head boy had muttered to you, almost in a mocking way

you couldn’t think of a reason on why he was acting like that, so you had just kept your mouth shut until he would drop you off at your apartment

his hand that usually resided on your plush thigh while he was driving was currently white knuckled on the the steering wheel

even though he was looking at the road, he looked completely pissed

no plea for him to talk to you would make him speak up, it was as if he was stuck in thought

even when he had dropped you off at your flat, he seemed to still loom over you

when you took out your keys, he took them from your hand and opened the door himself as if you were suddenly incompetent of doing anything for yourself

“need someone to do everything for you huh? just too dumb in the brain to do anything...” kuroo had sneered to himself

“okay what the fuck is your problem you asshole?” you had finally spoken up, really what was this jerks deal with you?

homeboy had glared at you before pinning you against the wall in your own home as if he owned the place, “oh so now you talk, you were so fine with that guy in the restaurant huh? completely preoccupied with him to forget that i was there...”

suddenly everything is making sense right now, the puzzel pieces are fitting together

homeboy was jealous and you had no idea, you just though he was being pissy for no reason

he just sighed, putting his head in the crook of your neck, “idiot...”

kuroo had finally turned his head to look up to you, a slightly sad look on his face

oh you felt like complete shit, homeboy looked so down that your heart hurt

you leaned your head slightly down so you could give the top of his head a lil kiss kiss

homeboy almost seemed to purr from the affection

he slung his arms over your shoulders, it was as if he was leading you into the minimal living room that you had

the two of somehow ended up on the crappy couch you had, him on top humming happily down below at you

sandwiched happily together

“i’m still disappointed in you...” he muttered, looking down at you

“oh bite me” though you paused before thinking, “how about i make it up to you?”

kuroo had smirked, “and how are you going to do that?” he questioned you

it was as if you had suddenly forgotten how to speak, a burning heat spreading from your cheeps to the bridge of your nose

lets just say that you did not expect that answer from him in the slightest-

his slender hand ran up the side of your torso, as if he was memoriizing the peaks and valleys of your figure

“i’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” kuroo had muttered cockily, staring into your eyes

he had no shame making comments like these, why should he?

his fingers snuck under the elastic material of the underthings you had currently been wearing, teasingly testing the waters and rubbing fether-like circles over your sensitive bits that were located on your chest

“are you ready?”

[taeilskitty]

Hii

I noticed your request is open

I'd like to request celibate doyoung smut with arranged marriage au!

Would appreciate it if you could add a lot of nipple play!

Thanks!

Thank you so much for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope it was good enough. Enjoy love <33

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

He was nice enough, he was respectful and pretty funny, good company too. It wasn’t such an issue that you were going to have to be together for, well, ever.

Forever is a long time. In all honesty you’d always dreaded your wedding day because you knew there was no chance of marrying someone you actually loved; that’s a fantasy you knew you’d just have to live out in your next life. But the first time you were introduced to your future husband, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you could make the most of it.

You weren’t best friends by any means, let alone lovers, but at least you were on the same boat. Both living with parents who had a plan since before you were even born, a prophecy they’d already written out for you. Whatever.

Maybe the knowledge of your fate was the reason for it, but you were never overly concerned with love. Of course you wanted it, but you’d learned to be your own person too. And that was great. Doyoung had once admitted that he was relieved about that; “I was worried you’d be disappointed,” he’d told you, “because I can’t do… any of that.”

It sort of warmed your heart. He was fairly open with you, and for that reason was sure not to cross any of your boundaries. You liked that about him. You could certainly get used to seeing his face everyday. And honestly it helped that he was… really fucking hot.

Your wedding was actually really nice, what with all things considered. You made the most of the celebrations and he seemed really calm as opposed to you who was frankly scared shitless. His family liked you, your family liked him, and most importantly you liked each other - or at the very least you tolerated each other.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you laughed once it was all over. “Thank you for making the day a little less scary.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N. Honestly.”

You smiled at Doyoung and looked back out across the moonlit sky. It was proving to be an emotional night, a surreal one at that.

“Before we met I was scared you’d be some creep, like, a total weirdo.”

“You seriously think your parents would let someone treat their kid like shit?” Now he was the one laughing; you both knew your parents were a lot of things, but they’d never want to see you get hurt.

“Okay, fair,” you agreed, and turned back to face him. “I’m surprised they didn’t dump me with someone crazy ugly though.”

Doyoung smirked. “Oh?” His eyes darted away momentarily. “So you do like me. Huh.”

Something told you he was only half kidding, but the giddiness in your gut made you wonder if this was the feeling all the blockbuster romance movies tried to convey. You weren’t in love. But you sure were glad it was him next to you right then.

“Don’t get so cocky.” He gasped sarcastically in response to your playful rejection. “I’ll put up with you.”

“I give it a week before you’re head over heels in love with me.”

Standing up, he looked back sort of expectantly.

“You wish. I think you just want me to be in love with you.”

“You’re married to me,” Doyoung scoffed. “C’mon. Let’s head inside.”

You stood up and looked at him for a moment. He still had that glint in his eye that suggests something isn’t quite right, like he’s waiting for something.

His beauty is… almost unfair. There’s no way your parents’ taste in men was this good, especially when picking some guy out for you. It made no sense - how was he so attractive? You knew it wasn’t just the light because, let’s face it, anyone can see how hot he is.

You sighed, and you shook your head when he asked if something’s wrong.

Doyoung placed a hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more nervous than he did before, particularly when you stepped in just a little closer. He could practically feel your breath mixing with his; your lips almost brushing against each other.

“What?” You ask when he breaks eye contact. “Never kissed anyone before?”

“Actually, no…” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I wanted to wait till I was married. It just feels weird that now I am…”

You weren’t sure why this shocked you, but it kind of made sense. Of course he’d waited, he was so angelic. Not even necessarily innocent by any means, and honestly it wouldn’t have bothered you if he’d slept with 1 or 100 people before. But somehow this made him… cuter?

You vowed not to laugh. You wanted to, not because it was funny or anything, but because it was just kind of endearing. You smiled at him.

“That’s okay, I’m no expert at it.”

Doyoung was silent for a second, but he looked back down at you with confidence in his eyes.

“My parents made a good choice with you.”

The space between your lips finally closed.

-

Despite having no experience, Doyoung knew how to draw whines out of you and kiss you in a way that sent butterflies to your stomach. He tugged on your bottom lip and held you with just enough force to make you feel the perfect amount of helplessness. It came naturally. The kissing, the touching, the clothes coming off. He even took the time to admire your body. How the fuck did he get so perfect?

“You’re really gorgeous, Y/N…” he muttered against the skin of your neck, your hands wandering into his hair. “I’m so glad we found each other.”

“Mmh-” A gentle moan escaped you when he grazed his teeth over your sweet spot. “You’re - you’re so hot.”

Doyoung chuckled a little bit and lay back on your now-shared bed. You’d clambered on top of him nervously, adrenaline coursing through your body, excitement chasing after it. He couldn’t hide how hard he was, not in those boxers - and there was no way you could ignore how big his cock felt strained against you.

“I - are you okay with this?” He asked, pulling away for a moment. The look in his eyes was sincere.

You nod. “God yes.”

That’s when he pulls you back into the depths of his kisses and hisses when your hand tugs at his boxers. He’d waited so long for this moment, and it was happening with someone he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to marry. The pair of you were nervous of course, but the mutual understanding you had was enough. The fact that Doyoung had already asked if you were comfortable made you want him even more for some reason.

“Ride me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Doyoung’s cock felt so fucking good. It stretched you perfectly, which hurt a little more than you’d like to admit but the feeling of him inside you just felt… wow. He threw his head back as you moved on him slowly.

“God, fuck, keep doing that baby,” he moaned.

Baby. The pet name sounded incredible coming from him.

“Yes sir,” You mocked, but the way he cursed under his breath when you said that told you he was into it. “Oh you want me to call you that, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” He was blushing just a little, and brought your lips to his again. “Don’t try and tease me, I can’t take it. Not this time. Seriously.”

Something in Doyoung’s voice sounded desperate. You wanted to taunt him so badly, but despite the fact that he’d never done this before, it made you wince with pleasure to think of all the things he could do to you when you get more comfortable with sex. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down your collarbones, bucking his hips up into you. He mentioned how tight you were, how good you felt around his cock and how bad he wanted to cum in you. The rasp in his voice sent you reeling, and you tried to reply but when he took your nipple into his mouth you almost started crying with pleasure.

“F-fuck!!”

It was one of the most incredible sensations, his tongue lolling around the bud paired with his cock deep inside you. The way his teeth nipped against the sensitive skin was enough to make you both cum. You felt… amazing. Clenching around his cock, you dug your nails into his back and whined far louder than you intended; a hand began to play with your other hardened bud and sent your mind into oblivion.

“So good…” He moaned, kissing along the width of your chest to switch sides. The sudden cold air against your spit-sodden nipple made you shudder but the coolness was a part of what made it feel so much better. Doyoung’s tongue flicked and played with you to an unconscious rhythm played by the fingers opposite, not at all in tune with his hips now snapping against you but fuck it felt good. He sort of whimpered, not in a submissive way but in a way that sounded overwhelmed with pleasure. He was clearly enjoying what he was doing, his cock buried in your hole and his mouth on your chest; it was like he’d dreamt of this moment. He’d never admit that he had, not yet anyway, but the anticipation leading up to him finally getting to fuck was a lot for him. As for you… you were no stranger to fantasising. You’d wanted sex for a long time. It felt so much better than you could have hoped; it sure helped that Doyoung actually took the time to focus on how you felt too, but really you were perfectly happy grinding on his huge cock alone.

It slowly built up. The friction was unbearably good. The sensation of his mouth against your chest, his hand gripping your waist for dear life, his cock sliding in and out of you -

“Fuck, fuck--”

You came, hard, clenching and panting and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you did so. “That’s it,” Doyoung breathed, “cum for me baby.”

You rode your orgasm out on him and tried so hard not to let your entire body jerk with each thrust he made after you came, until finally he followed suit. He moaned into your skin and god, he sounded perfect. The noises that came from the man’s mouth were nothing short of beautiful. This was heaven, or at the very least Earth’s closest replica to it.

“Ah,” he panted, still inside you, allowing the both of you to come down from your high. “Thank you, love…”

“No, thank you,” you laughed. “That - I didn’t think it would feel so good.”

The smug look on his face was pretty hard for him to hide. “Hah. Well. Me neither, to be honest.”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes once more and you just felt so comfortable. A kiss came so naturally once again, and you realised that maybe, just maybe, spending the foreseeable future together wouldn’t be so bad.

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

But it would be a lie if you said you couldn’t see yourself falling for him.

[imagine-that-100]

Stop It

Description: When bad habits come back, it leaves you with worries and feeling self-aware. But when your boyfriend spots this, he just has to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This was requested by an Anon. Really hope this was okay, I tried my best with it. Hope everyone else enjoys and I’d love to know what you think! Thank you for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As a kid all you heard when it came to you and your little habit was, “Stop it.”

Picking and biting at your lips was something that had haunted you for as long as you could remember. Cracked and broken skin on your lips were almost a constant and it haunted you still even now.

After you’d been ill with the flu or a cold, or something your lips liked to taunt you. Even just after being out in the cold for too long without applying some lip balm.

It was a fucking pain.

And because they used to be in such a bad condition, you just assumed that once the dead skin was off you'd be fine. So picking at them and biting them seemed like it was helping.

Oh how wrong you were.

So that was when you got constant ‘Stop it’s from your parents and when you caught yourself doing it you said a silent ‘stop it’ to yourself.

And the past few days you’d fallen back into that bad habit because you’d just got over a cold. So when you were at work today, stressing out over a client, you caught yourself staring at your laptop with your elbow rested on your desk and your fingers on your lips, picking at a little piece of dry skin you’d found.

Stop it.

Then you caught yourself biting them later when you were trying to actually make the custom design for your client. Another ‘stop it’ filled your mind.

Then again on the phone to another client who was being rude.

Stop it.

And again, when you were driving back home to your boyfriend who’d just flew back in from a series of shows he’d done.

STOP IT!

All you wanted to do was be able to kiss your boyfriend, but no way would he want to go anywhere near you if your lips split. Thankfully the first day or two when Matty was back home your lips held out.

You tried your best to control your habit and with Matty distracting you from work stresses it became a little easier. But when you were at work and he obviously wasn’t around you fell back into old habits.

And after a particularly stressful day at work, you did the worst.

You accidently split your lip.

Never had you not wanted to go home to Matty more. He was affectionate with you in the best of ways and he almost always wanted a kiss and a cuddle when it was just the two of you alone together.

But you didn’t want to kiss him with your lips in the state they were. Despite trying every lip balm, lip scrub, and moisturizer, nothing had helped over the past few days they still fucking split.

You hated it, and you hated that it made you anxious for Matty to see you like that. Thankfully, he’d never seen you like this before but something in you made you think he’d want nothing to do with you.

Maybe it was your old anxiety creeping back in. Or maybe it was just the fear of rejection.

Whatever the reason, it made you want to hide yourself from the person you shouldn’t be hiding yourself from.

“Hey.” You called when you got home, knowing Matty was around somewhere.

“Hey.” Matty calls back from the lounge, “How was work?”

When you walk in and see your boyfriend with his long mop of curls, you smile saying, “Stressful.”

“Bastards being picky again?” Matty grins when his brown eyes connect with your Y/E/C ones.

You chuckle remembering you’d complained about your clients to him on multiple occasions. You loved your job but god you met some pretentious people along the way.

“Not more so than you when it comes to buying your vintage clothes.” You tease him, throwing your coat down on the settee before leaning over him and kissing the top of his head.

Matty playfully scoffs, “I’m not being picky, I just have taste.”

“Sure, that's what we'll call it.” You giggle as Matty pulls you down onto his lap so he could give you a hug.

His arms wrap around you and he buries his head into your neck. You smile, feeling him kiss your skin a few times but you just bury your nose into his soft curls that smell like his expensive almond conditioner, as you ask, “How’s your day been?”

“Boring without you here.” Matty tells you and even though he’s just being kind, it makes you smile.

As you ask, “How are the boys?” Matty’s lips slowly trace their way up your neck and to your jaw.

Your anxiety set in a bit then, knowing exactly where they were headed.

“They’re alright, I suppose.” Matty tells you, he kisses just under your ear before he says, “Wanna see you apparently.”

“Well that's no shock, they do love me more than they love you.” You joke.

Matty chuckles a little at that and kisses across your cheek as he whines, “You’re mineee.”

You giggle at that and throw your head laughing back just before his lips reach the corner of yours.

Matty chuckles too hearing your laugh and he kisses under your jaw whilst it’s exposed to him. Your laugh was so adorable, and he’d never tire of hearing it.

“Do you want a brew?” You ask the love of your life as you get up out of his lap.

Matty smiles, looking up at your gorgeous face, “I’d love a coffee please.”

You nod and head to the kitchen feeling a little relief that you’d got out of that one. You didn’t want him to be repulsed by the thought of kissing you, so you’d rather avoid kissing him instead.

But that turned out to be what gave you away.

That night you went to George’s for a Chinese with them all. Adam brought Carly with him so you ended up talking to her for most of the night to try and avoid PDA.

You just received passing kisses on the head or on the cheek that night, even when you crawled into bed later you just tucked your head under Matty’s chin and let sleep take over you quickly.

The following day you avoided them too and you thought you were being subtle about it. Sometimes you playfully dodged his kiss and kissed his cheek instead, and other times you made him kiss your cheek when he went in for one, because you’d put lip balm on.

But the day after you were still doing the same despite not being in a playful mood or having anything on your lips.

You were standing in your kitchen with Matty’s arms around your waist making the both of you an omelette for lunch. You’d told Matty to just take a seat at your kitchen table as he kept trying to distract you with hugs from behind and trying to lean over you and kiss your face.

You laugh but instruct him once more to sit himself down. After another minute of him pestering you, you nudge him with your hip to move himself over to the table and he finally lets go of you and lets you finish your delicious creation.

He says a thank you when you place it down in front of him and he was going to give you a kiss until you practically whipped yourself back to the kitchen counter, just ruffling his hair

“Hey.” Matty says to make you look over at him, and when you do, he asks, “What’s up?”

You put your own lunch on your plate and when you sit down on the seat at the end of the table, you say, “Nothing, why?”

Matty points out, “You've not let me kiss you for the past two days.”

You go quiet then feeling bad because you haven’t kissed your boyfriend. And for the fact you’d not been honest about it and its leading him to ask questions like, “Have I done something?

“No Matty.” You tell him softly, never wanting to make him think that.

You look into his gorgeous brown eyes and you can see he’s just curious about your behaviour. Usually you’re all over each other, but you have been pretty distant and with him only being back for 3 weeks it hurt your heart not to have him the way you wanted him.

But you’d rather not have the anxiousness that came with you being overly self-aware of your lips against his.

“Then what’s up?” Matty asks, watching as you avoid eye contact and just concentrate on your food.

You glance at his plate and see it’s going untouched, so you gesture to it saying, “I promise I’m fine, just eat before it goes cold.”

“Don’t tell me you've gone off me?” Matty says after a few seconds.  

And when you just take a deep breath to try and think over another excuse, Matty asks, “Oh my god, have you?”

“No.” Your eyes snap up to his in panic. You didn’t want him to think that at all, so you repeat, “No, never.”

“Then what's up?” Matty chuckles and then noticing your look of panic he makes light of it asking, “I’m feeling very affection starved.”

You close your eyes, sighing, “Matty.”

“Come on, love.” Your boyfriend chuckles before taking your hand and asking again, “What’s up?”

“Is it not obvious?” You ask, feeling like your lips were really disgusting right now.

Matty shakes his head, “I’ve got no clue why you won't let me kiss you.”

After a deep breath you tell him the truth, “My lips are a fucking state.”

“Your lips are fine.” Matty frowns a little confused, looking down at them. “What do you mean?”

You say in a vulnerable voice, hating having to point it out, “Matty it’s split.”

Matty glances back down at then again and he reaches up to cup your jaw. You resist the urge to pull away from his reach because after all he was the person who knew you best.

His thumb comes up and runs across your bottom lip then and he shakes his head, “It's tiny.”

You shake your head a little so his thumb drops. He was being polite; it wasn’t tiny at all. The only highlight was that it was starting to heal.

You follow up with, “I hate it, they feel all dry and disgusting.”

“You’re thinking they are a lot worse than they are Darling. I don’t hate them at all.” Matty says, scooting his chair a little closer so he could easily trace your lips again.

He softly asks, a little more sympathetic, “Did you really not want to kiss me because of that?”

“It’s vile.” You shake your head.

“It’s not.” Matty says and then adds, “You’re my girlfriend, I wanna kiss you all the time.”

You put your hand over your lips and shake your head.

“Stop that.” Matty bats your hand away but as soon as he retreats you cover your lips again.

“Stop it.” Matty insists, pulling your hand down and keeping hold of it, “You don’t have to do that.”

You try to pull your hand away but when he doesn’t let you, so you just bring your other one up when you say, “I do because you keep looking.”

“Only because I want to kiss them.” Matty grins at you.

You shake your head and look back down. Noticing your plates are still full, you try to change the subject by saying, “The food’s going cold.”

“It’ll get colder if you don't give me a kiss.” Matty grins.

You sigh then, still feeling conscious and you’re about to protest but your boyfriend doesn’t let you retreat again.

“Y/N.” Matty says before you can protest, “I want to kiss you all the time.”

He then makes a pouty face at you then and puckers his lips making kissing noises at you. He gets you giggling within seconds and your heart swells with how lovely he’s being towards you.

Matty can obviously tell it's something you’re not comfortable about. But he didn’t care in the slightest.

He loved you with the whole of his heart and he’d do everything he could to make you love yourself as much as he loved you. And if that meant kissing your pretty lips every second of every day, he would do.

You chuckle at your boyfriend puckering his lips at you and you ask, “Even wanna kiss me when my lips are mingin’?”

“They’re not mingin’.” Matty assures you before he just abandons his chair and just kneels on the ground in front of you.

He still has a hold of your hand and he gives it a little squeeze before he assures you, “I love you Y/N, course I wanna kiss you.”

You smile at him then and when he actually goes go for the kiss Matty is really happy you don’t stop him. Your kiss was just as sweet as it usually was and Matty felt the excitement bubble away inside him like it always had at the mere thought of kissing you.

But Matty just kept his one sweet, making sure you were calm and relaxed. And he was pleased to know you were.

When Matty pulls away, he smiles, “See...? Wasn't so bad, was it?

Your cheeks go a little hot then, seeing how much adoration was in his eyes. You don't hesitate to tell him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Matty grins, before cheekily asking, “Can you have another one?”

You giggle at his one-track mind, but you decide to make him wait. You pass him your plate and say, “After you warm up my eggs.”

Your boyfriend takes it with a laugh and grabs his own plate. But he steals one more kiss from his gorgeous girlfriend on the way back to the stove.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[ackerlert]

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways. 

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp. 

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself. 

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away. 

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels. 

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text. 

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet. 

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness. 

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement. 

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter. 

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.” 

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.” 

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you. 

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off. 

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions. 

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

[thefanfictionartist]

The Captain’s Paramour

A/N: I worked hard write this and would really appreciate any love you can give this story. I do intend to write at least one more part to this and would love to hear any feedback or requests that you all have! If any of you have a request for a one-shot, please feel free to message me!

Pairing(s): Tooru Oikawa X Y/N; Hajime Iwaizumi X Y/N; Koutarou Bokuto X Y/N; implied Aoba Johsai X Y/N

Summary

Growing up, Y/N knew that Tooru Oikawa was someone who intimidated her, regardless of her crush on him, and she opted to stay away. When they start college together and Y/N joins as team manager, Oikawa charms his way to being her boyfriend. Happy in the start of the relationship, Y/N has yet to wonder if she was right to stay away from Aoba Johsai’s captain from the beginning.

Word Count: 4.4k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

Warning: This fan fiction contains a toxic relationship and bullying. If you are not comfortable with manipulation, dub-con, degrative language, and otherwise abusive aspects, please do NOT read this. You have been warned. 

~         ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~ He was someone you told yourself to only admire from afar. Regardless of the fact that you had known him since the two of you could attend school. Even then, you hadn’t spoken much to Tooru Oikawa. 

It was intimidating to have him even look in your direction. 

He had a god-like presence that always shines too brightly when he smiles. His eyes had a way of singling out his admirers like a lion stalking his prey. On more than one occasion, you told yourself to stop going to volleyball games because you knew that if he ended up approaching you, you’d become a blubbering mess. At least, that’s how you always pictured it.

But rather than avoiding him at all costs, you couldn’t help to watch him at his practices and games. If there was anything that no one could deny, it was that Oikawa had a talent that was nearly impossible to beat. 

His talent alone had entranced you, and after years of watching him play in elementary and middle school, you found yourself applying for the manager position on Aoba Johsai’s boys volleyball team. 

Purely because now you had an obsession with the game. 

And since you’ve been so observant, you knew that you could at least help the boys on the team in a practical manner.

As a first year, you doubted that you would be accepted…

But after a week of waiting, you found yourself sitting in one of the school’s gymnasiums, helping Oikawa set up the net in the middle of the court for practice. You found that he was actually quite disarming in conversation, making it so that you could speak with him easily. Your anxiety about being around him slipped away with a single ‘Hello.’, and you weren’t sure if that unsettled you or not. 

When you applied to be Seijoh’s manager, you expected the long hours and dedication you’d have to put in. Actually, you welcomed the distraction it gave you as an extracurricular. 

What you didn’t expect was the disdain most girls had for you. 

Most girls at Aoba Johsai hated you and the time you got with who they considered to be the hottest guys in school. They’d blatantly ignore you and write cruel messages on your locker and desk. In the few times that any of the boys were present during these incidents, they’d come to your defense. And you couldn’t have been more grateful to have your team back you up. 

You would always assure them that the bullying didn’t bother you. It didn’t bother you much when you had friends on the volleyball teams all over the country, including the couple of female managers they had. 

It was something you reminded yourself of when the crude comments written on your social media did bother you. Although, the harassment progressed farther online with absurdly edited pictures of you on certain profiles. And the comments multiplied by the day, making it all the more worse.

When the remarks got particularly bad, you would hide yourself in the janitorial closet of the gymnasium, crying in the privacy of the vacant room. 

Having the girls at school, and only the girls at school, torment you was something you could deal with. 

But having strangers command you to die and tell you that you were worthless hurt you more than you could have ever expected. 

You were sniffling softly and nearly at the end of your tears when someone walked into the closet. Looking up at the shadow of whoever had come in, you wipe furiously at your damp cheeks, trying to erase the fact that you were just bawling your eyes out. 

“Oh- sorry, I’ll be out in a sec-” Speaking softly to the intruder, you stand up, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. 

“N/N-chan?” Oikawa’s voice surprises you. 

“Tooru..”

“Why are you in here?” He takes a moment to observe your features and asks another question, “Have you been crying?”

Anxiously, you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before fiddling with the ends of it. A sarcastic, curt laugh tumbles from your throat as your red-rimmed eyes find the linoleum floor. “Yeah..” You sniffle before adding, “Pretty lame, right?”

Before you have a chance to look at him again, Oikawa’s arms wrap around you in a binding hug. 

The jacket he wears feels cool against your skin and you find yourself leaning your heated cheeks against it, silent tears rolling down your cheeks from the gesture you’d never expect from him. 

“No.. No, you’re not lame at all, Y/N.” His mouth rests against the top of your head and you can feel his lips twist into a small smile. “Those people are gonna get what’s coming to them for being so mean to you, I’m sure of it. In the meantime, you should just ignore it, ya?” He leans back to look at you, thumb carefully wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe then they’ll get bored and find someone else to pick on.” He adds with his trademark dazzling smile. 

Nodding, you agree with him, leaning back onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back to comfort you. In that moment, your personal relationship with Tooru became much more than it was before. 

As far as you knew, Oikawa hadn’t spoken with anyone about what happened that day, but you did notice many things start to change. 

For one thing, the atrocious bullying had stopped quite abruptly and you now only had to deal with a few harmless glares during your classes. For another, Oikawa seemed to pay more attention to you. Not that you were complaining. 

He had a way of drawing you in and making you even more smitten with him, and he knew it. 

It didn’t take long at all for him to claim you as his girlfriend. 

And at first, you felt like you were walking on Cloud Nine. There was no way that you could’ve fallen any deeper in love with him. He was so considerate and gentlemanly and kind. He brought you on nice dates when he didn’t have practice and showered you with compliments all the time. And when he touched you, you felt a pleasure you could never imagine before. He made you happy. He did. 

Really. 

So you promised yourself that doing things like this wasn’t a big deal. 

Because Tooru wanted it. And you loved him. 

           - - - - -

“That’s right, baby girl. All of Iwa-chan’s dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.” Oikawa prompted you from the side of the room, sporting a sizable bulge as he watched the action. “I want you to make him feel really good, hm?”

Following Oikawa’s instructions, you force yourself to choke on more of Iwaizumi’s girth, your eyes watching as his head tilts back to let out a deep groan. 

Trying to evoke more of his noises, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to pump the inches you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Behind you, Oikawa tutts, shaking his head. “Naughty girl.. You should know it’s improper to use your hands.”

Your scalp screams as he pulls you back with a fistful of your hair. A pitiful whimper leaves your lips which are covered in a messy amount of saliva. 

You fall into Oikawa’s lap weakly, the back of your head on his shoulder as he pries your legs open to display your arousal. As you attempt to close your legs, embarrassed that you’re so turned on in this situation, he hooks his legs between yours, so that his knees rest on the inside of yours. 

“Look at this Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s slender fingers slide along the puffed lips of your pussy, causing you to whine and grind your hips. 

Before you can receive any lasting relief, Oikawa pulls his fingers away from you, displaying the way your slick sticks and drips down his fingers. “She’s such a cock-hungry slut that she’s already dripping after sucking dick.”

His fingers dip down again, and this time he teasingly enters your twitching hole and pulls a moan from you. 

Oikawa starts to curl his fingers against you in a way that you know will have you seeing white. Skillfully he adjusts his wrist to reach deeper into you, brushing continuously against the sweet spongy texture of your walls. 

“Tooru- ‘M close!” 

And just like that, he pulls his fingers away, making you cry out. “Please, I wanna cum, Toru!” Your eyes brim with tears as you look at him, desperate for the release you nearly had. 

“That’s not my name.” His eyes are dark and he gives you a small smirk before saying, “If you wanna cum so bad..” He pushes you unceremoniously off his lap, relishing in the whine you give him. “You better beg Iwa-chan really nice.”

You look up to Oikawa from the ground, wide-eyed and begging. “Sir..” 

Giving Hajime a blowjob while Tooru watched was the original agreement and you weren’t sure that you much liked this spontaneous new plan. 

“Please, sir..” Your hands reached for his lap, intending to try pleasuring him so he’ll want to finish you himself. “I want you to make me cum, please.” Oikawa’s vice grip stops your hands before they are even close to touching him. The grip is tight enough it brings tears to your eyes, and you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for later on. 

“You heard me, pet.” He nearly spits in your face and you flinch at the nickname as tears collect on your lashes. “If you want to cum, you have to have Iwaizumi fuck you.”

He pushes you away with ease, letting you fall back onto your palms.

“So you better beg him hard.” His eyes flash with sadistic intent. “And before you even think about it.. There’s no way I’ll let you finish yourself tonight. I’ll tie you to the headboard if I have to insure it.” The smile he gives you doesn’t match his words.

When you turn to look at Hajime, you can see pity in his eyes. Like he can see just how uncomfortable you are with Oikawa’s behavior. 

But both of you knew that Oikawa wouldn’t let you leave until he got what he wanted. 

And that he got. 

        - - - - -

Events like that intense night with Hajime and Tooru became typical for you. And even though you had expressed your disinterest with being shared, you found yourself still wanting to make him happy. 

What started out as a normal relationship started to feel like ownership. 

You dwelled on how similar you actually became to the posts those girls used to make about you being a slut, and that just seemed to make you feel worse about yourself. 

So you would go to Oikawa again and again, seeking that warm comfort he gave you that one day in the janitor’s closet, crying your eyes out about how worthless and whorish you felt. And you’d be comforted by him for just enough time to make you feel okay before he would make you feel like a whore again; crying under him as he pounded you into the mattress. 

Then his pretty words would bring you snuggling up to him in bed as he told you how precious and special you were, and how much he loved you.

Even though you knew that you felt terrible and wanted to end things with him, you’d stay because you were in love, and because Tooru told you he needed you. 

You told yourself that he at least made you happy sometimes, and that it was normal for him to flat out ignore you after games because he needed to make his fangirls happy. It was understandable to a degree. A guy like him would need popularity to bring him where he wanted to go and you supported him one hundred percent. 

It wasn’t like you relied on him completely for happiness. 

You had friends for that. 

Most of your friends were from the boys volleyball league; people you had met during the many, many volleyball camps you had attended with the Aoba Johsai. 

You couldn’t have been more grateful for the frequent training camps in your third year, given the growing uneasiness you had around your own team. The only people on your team you felt comfortable around were the coaches and Iwaizumi, who was always respectful to you. 

After a while, you had caught on to the fact that Oikawa was making Iwaizumi feel like he had to do what he says, similarly to the way he makes you feel. 

Shortly after, you heard an argument break out between them and though you haven’t explicitly talked to each other about it, you knew that Iwaizumi had gotten fed up and told Oikawa he wasn’t gonna fuck his girlfriend anymore. And that Tooru should stop using me like a sex doll to be thrown around because it’s pretty clear that I don’t like it.

You had always thought of Iwaizumi as a protector and close friend. Someone who was gentle with the people he cares about. 

He always made a point of treating you as a gentleman should. 

In fact, most of the boys who weren’t on your team treated you kindly and warmly. It was truly no wonder that you enjoyed the training camps so much. 

Or nights like this one. 

When the second and third years from the prefecture would decide to throw a party. The presence of other school’s teams made you more comfortable with the environment. 

Finally you’re able to relax. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N!” Bokuto’s voice makes you genuinely smile. You turn to look at him from where you stand on Kuroo’s porch, seeing as he was the one with the idea to throw a party during spring break. 

It takes you a second to realize that you haven’t seen Bokuto much in the past few months. 

But it’s like having the first breath of fresh air in a long time when you find him smiling just as wide as he had the last time you saw him. It’s enough to keep you floating, just like it always is. “Hi, Bo.” You answer without matching his energy, because you couldn’t scrape up the vitality to do so. 

His head tilts to the side and instead of pity, you see confusion in his expression before turning to lean your forearms against the railing like you were before. Your eyes simply watch the sky turn orange and fuschia as the sun sets, your face void of any expression except a small smile that Bokuto placed there.

“Uh oh..” You hear Bokuto approach you but remain looking at the evening sky. “I didn’t do something stupid, did I?”

A glance to Fukurodani’s ace has you softly giggling at the puppy dog eyes he gives you. He’s at your side, bent at the knees so he can be shorter than you, preparing to beg to be forgiven for whatever he thinks that he’s done. “No, of course not, Kotarou.” You shake your head at his words. “You’re nothing but an angel.” 

Your smile gets a tiny bit bigger as you pat his head, careful not to ruin the way he styled it. 

“Okay, then…” He brings his hand to his chin, straightening himself out to lean his elbow on the porch railing. Owlish eyes observe you carefully, a look of deep concentration etched into Bokuto’s features. It’s as though he thinks if he stares long enough, he’ll be able to read your mind. 

You look so much more dull and lifeless now than you had been when he first met you. You had bags beneath your beautiful eyes and your cheeks had sunken in a bit. What made him the most upset was how your eyes didn’t reflect your smile.

“I give up.. Why do you look so sad?”  His voice softly coos as he asks the question, head tilting with inquiry.

You shrug and give an unconvincing, “I’m just tired.” 

Bokuto is overwhelmingly unprepared for how depressed you sound. His smile falters with unease. It’s normally not so easy to read other people’s emotional states for him. He knew he could be dim-witted at times but this was not one of them. It was clear that whatever had you so down wasn't something you wanted to talk about. Regardless of how much he wanted to know, Bokuto felt it was his job to try to get your mind off whatever was upsetting you. 

In a few seconds, his smile is back in full force, wanting nothing more than to find a way to make you happy. 

“C’mon.” Bokuto holds out his hand for you to take, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

Now it’s your turn to be confused, but rather than asking questions, your hand slips into his and you let him pull you through the house to Kuroo’s backyard. Once you’re there, he lets go of your hand and runs to a playset that probably hadn’t been touched in quite a while. 

There are plenty of people lying in the grass and talking around the pool, filling the air with empty chatter combined with the music that flowed outside from the house. 

Your eyebrows knit together in a disapproving manner. “Bo..” 

The childish excitement he has when he sits on one of the two swings on the playset is admittedly a bit contagious. But, to save yourself embarrassment from accidentally breaking Kuroo’s childhood playhouse, you try arguing as you approach the volleyball player. 

“This is meant for kids like 10 and under, you know?” 

His eyes glint with competitiveness as he pushes himself back on the swing. “I don’t care, I bet I’ll still swing higher than you.”

Your eyes narrow and you quickly find yourself plopping into the other swing, quickly accepting the challenge. “Oh, you’re on, Mr. Owl.” Pushing off the ground with as much force as you can muster, your mind focuses solely on getting your own swing higher and higher. A grin spreads across your face, brightening your features as you allow yourself to have genuine fun. 

The rusted chains of the old swings squeak with sudden use, but luckily don’t show any sign of falling apart. 

Seeing as Bokuto’s body is dense with muscle, you find yourself soaring higher than him in no time; laughter seeping out of the both of you in a hysterical manner. “I win!” You shout as you reach the peak of your swing, glancing in the direction of Koutarou. Even though you can only see a blurred version of him, you can tell that he is wearing a look of utmost determination.

“No! I’m not even at my highest yet! Just wait!” He shouts eagerly and you concede.

“Fine, you have one more minute to beat me.”

In that minute, your eyes drift to the sky and appreciate the dazzling stars above. If you focus hard enough you start to recognize a couple constellations. The first thing you see is Orion’s belt, then the whole of Orion. 

As you pick out the stars of the Little and Big Dipper, you relax with the free feeling of your hair blowing back and forth with each rock of your legs. 

This is what you would imagine flying to feel like, and you get lost in the fantasy of having the power to fly away from the groping hands of your team. Although, you have no idea where you would fly. Maybe you find somewhere like Neverland and be able to live to your own whims and wishes. Or maybe on some desolate tropical island with natives who actually respected you. 

You’re so entranced with your thoughts that you don’t realize when you are genuinely airborne until you hear Bokuto’s voice shouting your name with panic. 

The impact with the ground comes just as soon as you’ve realized that you’ve tumbled face-first off the swing. “N/N!” Oikawa’s voice beckons you to look for him from where you are on the ground. When your eyes find him jogging towards you from the house, your cheeks burn with guilt at the thoughts you had. 

Bokuto’s at your side before Tooru and insistently, yet gently, squishes your cheeks in both of his warm palms to get you to look at him. 

Apparently you hadn’t been answering his questions while Oikawa's presence clouded your mind. “Hm?” You raise an eyebrow at Bokuto, telling him that you’re listening. 

“Are you hurt?” 

You bat away his hands and shake your head while brushing the dust from your knees, which had taken most of the impact. “M’ fine. Just scraped my knees a little.” A reassuring smile settles on your face, although it falls just slightly when Oikawa approaches your side. 

You could swear for a moment that Bokuto picked up on the shift in your mood when Oikawa appeared, but ended up just blaming that on wishful thinking. 

“I’ll go get some bandages.” The ace leaves you with the setter before you can detest.

Tooru remains silent in an eerie manner, and it takes a lot of courage for you to look him in the eyes. “Can you stand?” He reaches out to you with long slender fingers and when you grab them, a shudder runs down your spine from how cold they feel. 

“Yeah.” You answer, and within a moment you’re on your feet, being pulled into the kitchen by your tyrannical boyfriend. 

“Sit.” He motions to the island countertop and you obey, swinging your legs as you wait for Koutarou to emerge from the bathroom with the promised bandages. When he arrives, Oikawa swiftly takes the bandaids from him and bends down to apply them to your knees. 

Oddly, he seems to completely disregard Bokuto offering to help bandage you. In fact, it honestly seemed as though he were ignoring the ace. He must’ve gotten the same vibe, because within a minute Koutarou left the kitchen with Kuroo. 

“There. All better, right?” Tooru smiles as he gives you a kiss on the cheek, holding your hips to help you off of the counter. “Come sit with me for a while, hm?” 

His fingers swirl delicately at the skin peeking from between your shirt and shorts; you resist pulling away from the icy chill of his gaze and nod. “Yeah.” You agree and follow him into the living room, which was now clouded with smoke. It was hard to tell the exact source, but it was clear that a few of the people in the room were extremely high. 

After a few moments, the smoke was dizzying. 

You were never one to indulge in intoxication and you never really saw an opportunity where you would feel comfortable with it. The atmosphere of this room made you queasy, even more so when Oikawa pulled you into his lap on the sofa. 

He pulls you close against him, and for a moment you swear you feel like you’re suffocating. Your mouth becomes dry as you pull in an uneasy breath of pungent air. 

“ ‘Kawa, I need some water.” Your voice is small against the thumping music inside the house, but Tooru acknowledges your request. 

“Oi, Matsu!” The setter calls to his teammate from across the room. “Can you get Y/N some water?” Miraculously, the dark-haired middle blocker hears his team captain and within a short amount of time, you have a glass of water in your hands and chug it thirstily. 

Oikawa chuckles from behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection. “Slow down babe, the water isn’t going anywhere. I promise.” He kisses the junction of your neck a bit more sultrously than you would like in public and you push your shoulder up to signal your apprehension with the gesture. 

He chuckles again, his chilling breath caressing your neck and making you tense. Another kiss touches the nape of your neck as Tooru snakes his hands to your inner thighs, fully intending to pull them apart. 

“Not now, Tooru.” You keep your voice quiet, not wanting to make a scene around so many people as your hands pull him away from your thighs. 

If he heard you, you couldn’t tell but it was clear in your body language that you were not comfortable. Oikawa, either ignoring your words or not getting the message, again latched his lips to your neck, this time nibbling to mark you. “C’mon, don’t you think our friends here deserve a show.” He cooed the words to you while his fingers nimbly began to unbutton your shorts. 

“No.” You push his hands away again and this time strain to get up and walk away. His strong arms easily pull you back down against an obvious bulge that grinds against you. 

“Tooru, Stop it.” Your voice gets slightly desperate, realizing that he really isn’t letting you go, and that your pleas are falling upon deaf ears. Writhing, you free yourself of his grasp momentarily before his hand is wrapped around your wrist to pull you back. 

“Oi- Shittykawa.” Hajime’s voice breaks Oikawa’s concentration and focuses the setter’s glare on his ace. “She said ‘No.’ So fucking stop it.”

With his focus on Iwaizumi, Tooru’s grip loosens and you take the opportunity to leave the vertigo-inducing room to find one that feels more safe. 

The house feels much bigger now than it did when you first arrived, and even after leaving the living room, you swear your surroundings are spinning. When you reach the front door, you hear faint chants reminiscent of a fight in the very background of your mind. Whether or not the fight was actually happening, you had no idea. 

All you knew was that there seemed to now be two door knobs that led out onto the porch. 

You blink and focus extra hard and end up grabbing for both of them. One of your hands ghosts through the imposter knob, while the other successfully twists and opens the door to the fresh air outside. 

Hope that the outside air would alleviate your symptoms quickly washed away as the wooden panels of the porch lurched beneath your feet, causing you to fall. Despite the desperate desire you had to get away from this place, you laid your feverish body on the ground. 

The only thing you could do against the spinning world was to close your eyes and hope it would go away soon. 

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

[voiceswithoutlips]

Calico - Chapter Two

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU , fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 2K — Rating: M — warnings: trauma, mention of past abuse.

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Y/N runs a animal shelter, Calico was built on a simple principle, to help those who were in need. What will Y/N do when her sanctuary is threatened by an unexpected hybrid?

— A/N: This is going to be a series, I’m just getting back to writing, so I’d really appreciate your input and feedback <3

Ch. 1  Ch. 3  Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

I stumbled out of bed with a groan, it was almost noon and my hangover was killing me. Last night I was too stressed so I drowned my worries in a bottle of whisky. Why was adulting so annoying, ugh. The house was quiet, Jason had probably already gone to the shelter. I made my way to the kitchen, my zombie brain screaming for coffee. I like my coffee black and bitter, just like my soul. Kidding, I don’t have a soul. 

My phone rang somewhere in the living room. The place looked like a tornado had torn through it. The floor was covered with papers and cushions and clothes and other unidentifiable mess. What the fuck happened last night? By the time I found my phone the ringing had stopped. 28 missed calls from Jason and 2% battery ...great.  

I made my way to the exam room, the most likely place for Jason to be. It was just a five minute walk from the house. I was in my pajamas, my hair sticking out and the coffee cup in my hand. It was Sunday, I was grumpy.

There was a half-naked man sitting on the exam table, no not a man, a hybrid. His white fluffy tail was droopy. Long white ears poked from his long black hair, he desperately needed a haircut. His ears were limp on his back. There was a hole in his left ear, it was properly done but too big for a piercing. My eyes widened with realization, I’d seen that before on cattle, his previous owners must’ve tagged him. 

The hybrid showed no reaction as I went to stand beside Jason, and directly in front of him. His upper body was muscular, he had a thick neck and washboard abs. He was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline, cute eyes and a small nose. The combination of cute and sexy was deadly. His hands were clasped together and he was hunched over, trying to make himself look small, not an easy feat to achieve.  

“Y/N, this is Jungkook,” Jason introduced the hybrid. The bunny stiffened, he didn’t raise his head to look at me. What do I do? I wasn’t good with people, I preferred animals to humans.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N,” I greeted. He was sitting so still that you would think he wasn’t even there. Was he even breathing? He was still looking down. 

I looked at Jason, I didn’t know what to do. “I found him near the hatch this morning so I brought him in for a checkup.” I nodded. 

“Are you hungry? I’m practically starving!” I asked, extending a tentative hand towards the bunny, palm up. He flinched.  I kept my hand where it was. I would stand here for hours if I had to. My stubbornness knew no bounds. Minutes passed slowly, Jason was leaning on the counter perfectly at ease, he was a good actor. 

Slowly Jungkook took my hand. “Let’s go have breakfast,” I whispered, a smile on my face as I slowly led him to the kitchen. Well kitchen was an overstatement, it was a small room with six refrigerators and two freezers, most of them contained medical supplies. A sad, overused coffee machine and a small stove for “Emergency Ramen”, it was our own special recipe. 

I opened the fridge with a “No Science Allowed” poster taped to its door. I pulled out a bunch of greens to make a salad, rabbits need their greens. We always stocked the fridge for humans and the animals. I wasn’t a particularly good cook, I could cook enough to not starve but that was the extent of my cooking skills. A quick chicken salad, eggs and toast and a bunch of pancakes and breakfast was served. 

Jungkook was still standing near the door where I had left him, eyes downcast, ears flopped. I was an idiot, a massive idiot, I assumed he would sit at the table on his own. Bad Y/N! 

“Jungkook, come sit with me,” I mentally hit myself, it sounded like a command, I was terrible at this. I was used to animals, you tell them what to do, you can’t ask a dog if he’d like to sit with you, but Jungkook was a person. I can be an animal therapist but humans? They were beyond me. I didn’t know how to get to him.  

He sat at the table. I pushed the food in front of him, expecting him to eat, another mistake. Hybrids are supposed to obey, they don't do things on their own. I was supposed to tell him what to do. I wanted to pound my head on the table. Stupid Y/N. 

“What would you like to eat?” I asked in the gentlest voice possible, at least I hoped it was gentle. 

 No response.  

“Go on this is all for you,” I tried to be encouraging. 

 Nothing.

 “Tell you what, if you finish your breakfast, I’ll give you a treat,” his ears twitched. He tentatively picked up a fork and started eating. His movements were small, he barely made any noise as he chewed but at least he was eating. 

I was still confuzzled, it is a word, a made up word, but then again all words are made up words. Confused and puzzled. I had no idea how to approach him, do I treat him like a human or a rabbit. The ‘treat’ card worked but will it work every time? He was taking small bites, I wondered if the food tasted bad. Maybe I forgot to add sugar to the pancakes? Did I forget to season the salad? I sighed internally. He needed a proper meal but sadly, Jason and I were terrible cooks. We lived on take-outs and ramen. Maybe it was time to learn how to cook.

I stood up, he froze. I had to get him used to people. I ignored his stiff posture as I walked to one of the freezers and pulled out a container that held my favorite ice cream. It was ‘ice cream for breakfast’ kind of day. I didn’t bother with bowls, two spoons and I was back in my seat. 

“You know this is my absolute favorite ice cream in the entire world. It's called Chocolate Brownie Fudge with Marshmallows. It's like a little piece of heaven in a plastic container,” I offered him a spoon. He looked at it as if it was going to bite him. “Go on, it's your treat!” I encouraged with a grin. It was meant to be a small smile but he was too cute and the ice cream made me happy. 

I dug into the ice cream as if my life depended on it. Jungkook watched me curiously, the spoon still in his hand. He hadn’t finished his breakfast but it was a start. For me, it was Sunday, the day where I threw caution to the wind and ate what I wanted. He hesitantly took a spoonful of ice cream, watching me as if I was going to pull the container away from him and tell him it was a joke. 

As soon as the spoon touched his tongue his eyes lit up like christmas. “Amazing isn’t it?” I asked, taking another bite. He nodded excitedly. Apparently he had a sweet tooth. I pushed the ice cream towards him and watched him devour the whole thing in minutes. God he was adorable!

I settled down on the couch in my office, I desperately needed a shower but that’d have to wait. Jason had taken Jungkook back to our house, he was going to stay in the guest room for the time being. It's not like I was going to put him in the hybrid shelter building, nobody deserved that and he couldn’t stay as a rabbit forever. 

I had a file in front of me, a file on Jungkook. All hybrids are installed with a microchip and registered in the hybrid database as soon as they are born ...or rather created in the labs. Hybrids couldn’t procreate, they were made in labs owned by big corporations. Jason had scanned Jungkooks microchip, the file contained everything about his life.

He was created in Corebear Tech’s lab and sold at the age of six to a wealthy family as a pet for their son. He was sent back to the company when he was twelve because he had grown too big for a rabbit hybrid. Corebear Tech then sold him to Apexi Pharmaceuticals and I guess that’s where Yonu found him.

I felt …I didn’t know what I felt. Maybe a sense of defeat. Jungkook was twenty-three, he was in that lab for eleven years. He was just one year younger than me. I was lost. I couldn’t even imagine what he must’ve gone through. There was no way I was going to let Apexi take him back. I called Song Hwa and gave her the file. After all we had evidence to collect and a case to build.

“Not this again!!” I ran through the front door as soon as I smelled smoke in our kitchen. Jason was standing in front of the stove fanning a pot with a newspaper. 

“I was cooking rice, I don’t know what happened,” he said opening the windows.

I took a peek, the rice was black, utterly totally burnt. “Jason …you’re supposed to add water to cook it…”

“Oh,” Jason loved to cook, the problem was he just couldn’t. I was 200% sure that he was cursed by some evil witch. The moment Jason tries to cook, all hell breaks loose.  

“You’re on clean-up duty,” I grumbled. At least it wasn’t that bad, the cake incident was still fresh in my mind. Once upon a time, when we still lived in our dorm, Jason decided to bake a cake …in a pressure cooker. Needless to say, it was a disaster. The cooker blew up, damaging half the kitchen. Thankfully no one was injured.

I softly knocked on the guestroom door. Jungkook had spent the whole day in his room, not that I blamed him. New place, new people, it was bound to be scary.

“Hey Jungkook, you want to come out for dinner?” I asked. I could deliver him ramen to his room if he wanted but I hoped he’d come out and eat with us. Yes, we were having ramen, Jason and I still lived as we had lived in our dorm, the only difference was our house was nicer and we had a garden.

Jungkook opened the door, he hadn’t locked it. He scrunched his nose as soon as he stepped out. The house was full of burnt smell from Jason’s cooking adventure. The smell must be stronger for him.

“Yeah, Jason tried to cook rice. Pro tip, never eat the food that Jason makes, he’s a terrible cook. Do you want to come eat with us?” I asked. I got a small nod in return.

“Let’s gooooo!! Do you like ramen? We have a really good recipe, well its nothing special, we just throw in some bacon and rice cakes and of course a fuckton of cheese,” I rambled as he followed me to the dining table. “You can never go wrong with cheese, unless you’re Jason,” Jason made protesting noises, I rolled my eyes at him.

Dinner was a bit awkward. Jason and I kept trying to make Jungkook talk but it didn’t work. The poor bunny hadn’t spoken a single word since he’d arrived at Calico. The only thing we got out of him were small nods and silence. I wondered if we should consult a therapist. He was human after all and he needed help.

I heard a sharp gasp from my left. Jungkook’s eyes were huge, he was frozen in his chair. He had accidently knocked the salt shaker off the table.

“I’m so..sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’ll do anything,” his voice was so small, it made my heart ache.

“Oh honey no!” I said as I held his hands. “It was an accident. You remember what I told you? This is a safe space, you’ll never be punished here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” I was mentally cursing myself for holding his hands on impulse. What if he didn’t like people invading his personal space? My worries were put to rest as he squeezed my hands.

“Okay,” he said in the smallest voice.

 Previous || Next

[novelconcepts]

I’ve always wanted a first real date after bly scene. Light and right.

Where Dani is thirsty AF bc Jamie wore a dress

Where Jamie feels like she’s in an oven under Dani’s 👀.

Where Jamie wants to remark on Dani maybe using that weapon *👀👄* sparingly, but remembers her complete lack of autonomy in the past and is just like ~yes love, look. It’s for you.

Does it count as a date, Jamie wonders, when we’ve not been apart in four months? Hard to imagine, but it’s true--the time has very much gotten away from her in Dani’s company. Not that she’s complaining. Not that she can find much at all to complain about, with Dani at her side.

Nervous, Dani may be. Uneasy about planning for the future. Sometimes, she turns her head and finds Dani gazing back with a chillingly blank expression, and thinks, She’s going. She’s going already. 

And then Dani will blink, and she’ll smile, and Jamie can’t fathom how she’d ever thought the worst. Even for a second. There is so much life to Dani--different now than the woman who had pulled her close in a hallway, maybe, but full of life all the same. Dani’s eyes are different these days, beyond her newfound heterochromia, and her dreams are darker, but she is in all other ways the most alive person Jamie’s ever known. 

Particularly the way she tends to stare.

“What?” Jamie asks, grinning. There’s a certain steady pleasure to this moment, how Dani’s eyes snap to her the second she enters a room. “Why are you looking at me like...”

She hesitates. Like you want to take a bite. She doubts Dani would respond well to that phrasing. Four months in, Dani still tends to dart away from her when caught staring, her posture tightening up. Blatantly pointing out exactly what her face is doing just now is sure to send her into a mild tailspin.

And yet--hard to deny the truth of it. Dani, perched on the edge of the couch they’ve only recently hauled up the stairs to this very-new apartment, is gaping at her like she didn’t expect Jamie to even be home, much less stepping out of the bathroom. The surprise is etched into every angle of her, partnered with something Jamie is inclined to call naked desire. 

Bit much, she thinks, heartbeat increasing tempo, but if it walks like a fuckin’ duck...

“Like what?” Dani is shaking her head, smoothing out her skirt, fingers tightening around the fabric like she doesn’t entirely trust her own hands. “I’m not lookin’ at you any special way.”

She’s right about that much--if only because Dani has a tendency to look at her this way always. Doesn’t matter where they are, or who’s around, or how Jamie’s dressed. Turtleneck, battered jeans, or this, her eyes always darken the exact same way. Her jaw tenses, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, and every single time, Jamie thinks, No one. No one has ever looked at me like...

Like it’s second nature. Like she’s been doing it all her life. Like Dani has forgotten how to even begin to tame her own expression, so long as Jamie is standing in front of her.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it.

“I didn’t even know you kept a dress,” Dani says. She’s still staring just over Jamie’s shoulder, as though the only thing holding her in check is the blank wall.

“Didn’t,” Jamie says. “Recent acquisition.”

To see what would happen, she doesn’t add. To see if it would make a difference to the way Dani looks at her like she can’t get enough. A part of her can’t forget how Dani had lit up the day of the funeral, as though the sight of dress and lipstick and flirtatious little grin had been powerful enough to keep the monsters at bay.

Truer than Jamie could have realized, then. Still true now, she thinks, as Dani slowly rises and allows her gaze to take in the full picture once more. Dani is, she can tell, being as careful as she can. Dani is trying not to be too much. Like they haven’t been spending endless hours together, strolling through states, watching the seasons change. Like they haven’t spent all these weeks learning one another in motel rooms, and--as of very recently, in this flat. Like Dani is still, somehow, embarrassed by her own inclinations. 

It’s okay, she wants to say. You can look. You can do anything you like. Dani believes it, in the dark. Dani believes it when it’s Jamie at the wheel, guiding her hands. She believes Jamie wants her then--naked and pressed into a mattress, under the pulse of a hot shower, even in the backseat of a car. There are places, Dani seems to think, where she is allowed to want and be wanted.

But Jamie has to start it. Jamie has to expressly grant permission. Somehow, Dani still hasn’t quite realized it is her want--wherever it comes, whenever it comes--Jamie most prizes. 

Look, she thinks. Touch. Do what you want. No one’s ever told Dani that before. No one’s ever been able to make her believe it. Understandable; some things can’t be resolved a few months in. Some trunks have been locked too long.

She offers her arm, pleased when Dani hooks a hand through the bend of her elbow. “Shall we?”

Dani glances at her, glances away again, swallows. For a moment, Jamie wonders if she might tilt them back against the front door, taking the date off the table entirely. Wouldn’t be so bad. Would, in fact, be a glorious way to spend an evening with this woman.

But date was the plan, and date Dani seems committed to. Even as her fingers trace the soft skin of Jamie’s wrist. Even as her hip presses lightly to Jamie’s own. Even as they make their way to the restaurant, to a table near the back, and order. 

“This feels strange,” Dani says quietly. “Being out like this.”

“We go out all the time,” Jamie points out, knowing what she means. Knowing there’s a difference between lounging in a booth for dinner and going out like this--hair up, makeup done, Dani trying so hard not to take her in with hungry eyes. Is it really a date if you’re always together anyway? It would appear the answer is very much yes.

And it would appear Dani is just as out of practice with the whole idea as she is. Her hands are twining on the tablecloth, her head bent. Every so often, her eyes flick up to Jamie’s face, and it’s like having a campfire turned directly against her skin.

“You can do that,” Jamie says after the third or fourth time. She can feel herself grinning--the old flirtatious good humor, which has grown to encompass so many private moments. She may not be able to resist Dani’s big doe eyes, but Dani’s never been good at turning away from this particular breed of smile, either. Well-matched. And fucking lucky. 

 “Do what?” Dani isn’t feigning innocence, she’s sure. Dani is genuinely trying not to do this very thing. Dani is trying to be polite, and proper, and in public, and Jamie’s heart clenches a little to think of how often she’s done the exact same thing with any number of women she’d felt she couldn’t even glance at.

“Look at me,” she says. Dani’s eyes rise, her lip pulling between her teeth. “You can do that. However long you like.”

“We’re in--”

“It’s just looking.” Jamie smiles. “No one can stop you.”

Dani shifts in her seat, fingers knotting together. Jamie would bet her life she’s gripping her own hands that tightly to keep from reaching across the table.

“I don’t mean to.” Dani pauses. Smiles a little. “I don’t mean to look at you like--like I--”

“Want me?”

Dani makes a small noise under her breath, something Jamie suspects might be a groan. She laughs. 

“Poppins, you do know the idea of a date.”

“Yes.” Dani has this predictable way of huffing words out in irritation when she’s embarrassed. It’s entirely distracting in its own right. “But you’re--I’m not--”

Jamie waits. Things like this take time, she reminds herself. Things like this are not instantaneous. What Dani is comfortable doing--being--in private might never quite look the same out in the world. That’s all right. What matters is that Dani gets to choose. That Dani knows she’s allowed to.

“I don’t own you,” Dani says in a low voice at last. She’s looking Jamie in the eye now, and there’s so much happening on her face--an embarrassed pull of her mouth coming up hard against the heat of her gaze. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m always ten seconds from...from...”

“Tearing my clothes off?” She can’t keep the amusement out of her voice, and suspects it’s the only thing holding Dani here. That, if she were to say the same sentence with no humor at all, Dani might actually burst into flames right over the nearly-full wine glasses. “Can’t see a problem with that.”

“Jamie.” It’s nearly a whisper. She sounds so ashamed, even as her eyes flick from painted mouth to the low cut of the dress’ neckline. 

“It’s not ownership, wanting the person you’re with,” Jamie says, as gently as she can. “It’s...welcome. Very.”

“We’re in public,” Dani repeats in a strangled sort of voice. “And you’re wearing that, and I...”

“Do you like it?” 

Dani nods, very quickly. Jamie glances around, and, finding the waiter absent, slides a hand beneath the table to cover her knee. 

“I like that you like it. Might surprise you, but I did put it on because I hoped you’d like it.”

Dani swallows. Her leg is rising and falling in an unsteady tattoo under Jamie’s palm, the skirt riding precariously up her thigh. Jamie smiles. 

“You are allowed,” she says, “to look. And to tell me what you think. And, shocking though it might be, to respond according to what you want. I like that you want me.”

“I know,” Dani says, in the kind of voice that says she doesn’t entirely believe it, even now. Jamie shakes her head. 

“No, don’t think you get it. It is the best goddamn part of my day, watching you watch me. Knowing you’re thinking what I’m thinking. It’s...” She hesitates, her thumb stroking along Dani’s kneecap. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Or you.”

Dani is breathing a little less sharply with every pass of her thumb, her cheeks pink. She closes her eyes--and then, with the air of a woman turning a particularly stubborn key, opens them again. It is the memory of the funeral dress turned up to eleven. It is the moment she’d stepped out of the bathroom doubled, tripled, almost too much to stand in the middle of a populated restaurant. 

It is perfect. 

“See,” Jamie says, taking her hand back and settling it beside her fork. “That. With me, you never have to tone that down.”

“I do,” Dani mumbles. “I really do.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Dani says, leaning across the table, her voice pitched dangerously low, “we haven’t even been served yet, and I want to drag you home already.”

Jamie grins. “Going that poorly, would you say?”

She’s a little surprised Dani doesn’t kick her under the table.

She’s not surprised at all when Dani’s hand appears on her own thigh, intentionally driving her dress up. Dani is, she’s pleased to find, grinning. 

“Ah,” she says breathlessly, “now you’ve got the idea.”

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART I - Literally can’t believe I just sat here and posted that 500 characters at a time lol I hope you’re not too disappointed with this, I’m well aware it’s a bit of a disaster but it’s been real nice sending it to you :))

haha its unreal but i loved it sm!!! thanks for sending <3 btw if you want to send me a summary, i can add it into the masterlist!

here’s part 1 in full!

Prince of Ashes. Part I.

masterlist.

Eris could feel his heart beating as he ran through the halls of The Forest House. His breaths were unsteady and panicked, but he tried to school his features into a mask of calm in case he ran into his father. He adjusted the sword at his side, had grabbed the weapon and shoved it messily in his belt as he’d rushed out of his room. The torches he passed along the walls flared brightly, as if in warning. Eris hoped his father hadn’t done anything foolish.

The rumble of magic that had passed through the estate could only mean something horrible had happened. Eris didn’t slow down as he practically slammed through the doors of his mother’s chambers, not caring that he hadn’t bothered to put a tunic over his thin undershirt and knowing he looked ridiculous in an old pair of brown leather boots.

Eris paused at what he saw once he spotted the woman who’d raised him. He was not expecting his mother to be weeping at the healthy babe in her arms, her shoulders hunched as her breath hitched every so often.

Eris had perfected his carefully crafted image. He was the Tamer of Flames, the Heir of Autumn, the Prince of Ashes. He was calculated and hateful on his good days, cruel and horrible on his bad days. He wanted to be a son his father could be proud of, and he wanted to be a son his mother could look in the eye. As he stood in the doorway of his mother’s room, he bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling very much like a nervous child instead.

“Mother,” Eris breathed, not knowing if he should approach. Eris had been in the middle of reading through some reports when he’d felt the magic, he must have looked a mess after having run through the halls of The Forest House like some youngling.

“Eris?” His mother asked through her tears, more emotion than Eris had seen from her in centuries. “What’s happened?” Eris said as he walked towards them, his tone uncharacteristically soft. The pulse of angry magic that Eris had felt minutes before had worried him, but looking at both his mother and the seemingly healthy child had Eris very confused.

His mother merely shook her head and carefully placed the little bundle in Eris’ arms. Eris had only ever held one of his brothers when they’d been this small and fragile. It must be a girl, Eris thought, why else would his father be so angry, why else would his mother weep. He felt an odd sadness, pitying any female born into this court. “I want to name him Lucien,” his mother whispered, as if it were a secret.

Eris was only more confused, “Cauldon bless him,” he muttered, moving the blankets so that he could peer at the face of his brother. The baby’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted as he huffed tiny breaths in his sleep.

“Eris, I must ask something of you,” his mother tugged on the loose sleeve of his shirt, her other hand wiping the tears from her cheeks. Eris was still looking at the child in his arms, but he nodded for her to go on. His mother never asked anything of him and Eris had never asked anything of his mother. “You must protect him.”

Eris nodded again. He thought he’d done a particularly good job at taking care of Rufus since his mother had been an empty shell when he’d been born. Not that Eris could blame her, he figured spending too much time around Beron was the cause. Eris had kept Rufus as far away from his father as he could, and while Rufus had a reputation for taking nothing seriously, all things considered, he was a good male.

“Give me your vow.” Eris furrowed his auburn brows, glancing to his mother as she gently took the child from his arms and placed him in his cradle. Strange, Eris thought, but would not question it. His mother had said it so firmly that Eris had been reminded of the female he remembered from his childhood. 

“I give you my vow, my solemn oath, to protect this child,” Eris said, unwavering eyes on his mother.

“Beron wants him dead,” she said softly, calmly.

“What?” Eris snapped, probably much harsher than he needed to be. 

“Your father wants to leave the babe to the elements,” she reached for Eris’s hand, but he jerked away from his mother. Fool, Eris thought, he was a fool. Hadn’t his father taught him since he could speak to never give anyone his oath. 

“Why?” Eris growled, and while he might have been frustrated with having agreed to his mother’s wishes, he was horrified at the thought that his father would kill an innocent child.

Even if the High Lord of the Autumn Court did not care much for his sons, he had always valued them as political pawns. Fae children were rare, his father had always known they would grow to be assets. Eris had spent much of his life fearing what his father would do to him and his brothers in anger, but he found a strange comfort in knowing Beron would never kill one of his sons. Eris looked at his mother, mouth dropping open slightly.

Eris took great pride in the fact that his emotions never openly showed on his face, not unless he wanted them to, but he couldn’t help it. Eris was a little horrified, a little concerned. His mother had gone off and had an affair, right under Beron’s nose, the runt in the cradle was his half-brother. Eris needed a strong fucking drink to swallow that realization. No. Beron would never kill one of his sons.

His mother looked at Eris with devastation, she sniffled once, ran a hand through her hair. She looked tired, but Eris couldn’t remember the last time his mother had looked so alive. “Eris, please, he… he is still your brother, please. Your father has doubts, but it is mere speculation.” She lifted her face to look up at her eldest son, “If he is under your protection …” She broke off then, looking at Eris with hopeful russett eyes.

Eris nearly flinched at her words, of course Lucien was still his brother, he thought. And not only that, but he’d vowed to keep the runt safe. Eris didn’t need to be a seer to know this vow would become a problem at some point, but he pushed those negative thoughts from his head. Eris moved to look into the crib, at the small babe inside it, “Are you sure about calling him Lucien?” 

His mother’s shoulders sagged with relief, “What’s the matter with it?”

Eris tilted his head to the side as he continued to stare at his youngest brother. “Mother, his name means sunshine in the Old Tongue, perhaps you should reconsider.” 

His mother flashed him a small smile, momentarily shocking Eris, “It means light.” 

“I hardly think that’s any better,” Eris was debating whether or not to ask who the father was when he heard the loud steps approaching the room, and he turned to face the carved doors of his mother’s chambers with a deep breath.

The doors slammed open with a loud crash, Eris was surprised the babe didn’t wake. “Give me the child,” Beron said with a frighteningly quiet voice. 

“Father,” Eris said, warning in his tone. Eris was many things, but he wasn’t an oath-breaker. 

“Do not involve yourself in matters that do not concern you,” Beron spat, “Give me the child.” 

Eris moved closer to his father, his hand moving towards the sword at his side, “Father.”

The High Lord of Autumn paused, looking at his son carefully. Eris let golden flames flare in his eyes. His father stood straighter, eyes flicking to the hand Eris had placed on the hilt of his weapon. “You would fight me, boy?” His father laughed with no amusement before he flashed a taunting smile in Eris’s direction, “You would fight me?” Eris knew that perhaps he should have reconsidered his approach to the whole situation when he felt the magic in the room swell.

The crackling magic that flowed through Eris’s veins was lethal, but not as strong as his father’s. Eris lifted his chin, “Father, leave the child.” Beron reached for his own weapon, and Eris drew his sword. His father was more experienced, and Eris knew his talents did not lie in combat, but he would fight for this. If he died, though, he worried what Beron would do to Rufus, but he wouldn’t let Beron leave Lucien to the elements. At least not without a fight.

“Eris!” His mother moved to stand between them, but Eris pushed her back with his arm. He would regret sending her crashing against the wardrobe later, but he was much too focused on his father to care too much about that now. Beron lunged at Eris with his sword, and Eris easily deflected the blow that was aimed at his chest. Eris’s amber eyes widened, but he wasn’t entirely sure why it shocked him to know that his father would strike to kill.

Eris had to lead his father away from his mother and the child, so with a small snarl Eris threw himself at his father, his sword arcing in the air. With a powerful blow, Beron stumbled out into the hall. The servants that had dutifully been attending to their business shrieked as their swords slammed together, the sound of metal against metal echoing as the servants ran away from them.

Beron was much stronger than Eris. He had been fighting for much longer, and Eris knew that if he started using his magic against his father, his father would respond with magic much stronger than his. Eris parried his father’s first series of blows, but it was an effort. High Lords were a different breed, and with each clash of their swords, Eris was reminded of that fact. “Ungrateful,” his father spat, cutting Eris on the thigh with a long swipe of his sword.

Eris heard his mother screaming at Beron to stop, and he knew that the cut along his leg was deep, but he managed to whirl out of the way of his father’s blade as it came frighteningly close to his neck. Eris put all his weight in the next swing of his sword, and Beron grinned as their swords met and they faced each other. “Why protect the little runt?” Beron’s grin merely widened, “You wish to have another brother fight you for the throne?”

Eris flashed him a crooked grin in return, ignoring the pain in his leg as he spoke to his father over the cross of their swords. “I am not afraid.” 

“Perhaps you should be.” Eris could not respond fast enough as his father stopped pushing against him, and Eris lost his balance. It was only a moment, but it was enough. Beron’s blade skidded across the edge of Eris’s sword, and Eris knew he had made a terrible mistake. Beron thrust his blade into Eris’ side.

Eris felt blank, he vaguely realized he’d cried out as his father twisted the blade before his own weapon fell from his weak fingers. He didn’t hear the sound of it as it dropped against the floor, the roaring in his ears was much too loud. “Are you happy now, Eris,” Beron said, putting a hand up to his son’s face in a strangely father-like gesture, the other still tightly gripping the sword in Eris’s side. “I have lost a son this night.”

Fingers curling in Eris’s long hair, Beron pulled his eldest son to him and placed a kiss to his temple. In his entire life, Beron had never shown any affection to Eris, and if Eris had been able to think properly, he would have been shocked. Eris groaned as his father yanked the blade back, his shaking hands going to the wound at his side as his legs faltered and he fell to his knees. Ruby red blood glimmered on the silver blade of his father’s sword.

Eris tried to take a deep breath, but found that his lungs wouldn’t let him. Eris coughed, feeling blood drip down his chin. He supposed that he should not have expected to beat his father in a duel. Eris felt like he was drowning. As a youngling he’d tripped on a rope and fallen off a dock in the Spring Court and into a lake, not knowing how to swim and in a panic, Eris had thrashed as water filled his lungs.

Each breath had burned in a way that Eris had never imagined he’d feel as the heir of the Autumn Court. Surely, Eris would have died had his mother not pulled him out of the water, sobbing as she’d told him to hold her hand next time. His mother was sobbing now as she fell to her knees in front of Beron, begging him to stop. Eris slumped forward with a gasp, the burning feeling in his chest becoming nearly unbearable.

He made a strange choked noise as more blood filled his mouth and Eris gritted his teeth as someone dropped down by his side. “You alright, Eris?” Rufus asked, his face close to Eris’s as he put his hands around Eris’s arm, trying to help him up. Eris looked at his younger brother through the curtain of his red hair, “Hello, hey, you alright?” Rufus repeated, russett eyes wide.

“Never better,” Eris rasped as more blood dripped from his mouth onto the marble floors. Eris tried to lift himself up with Rufus’s help. He couldn’t stand, Eris noticed, and put all his weight on his younger brother. Rufus laughed nervously, the sound hollow to Eris’s ears. Holding a hand to the wound on Eris’ side and abandoning his attempt to get Eris up off the floor, Rufus moved the hair from Eris’s face. With the back of his hand, Rufus wiped at the blood along Eris’s chin before he spoke. Eris wasn’t really worried, but he could tell from the tone of Rufus’s voice that he probably should be. 

Cato’s voice rang like a bell in the nearly empty hall, “What the hells happened here?” Calm and steady and definitely not worried. Cato would soon become heir, Eris thought briefly, all his brother had ever wanted and he hadn’t even lifted a finger to get it. 

“Your brother seems to have forgotten his place,” Beron replied with equal calm.

Rufus snarled softly, having been the youngest of six for thirty years, no one paid him any attention, especially not father, and Eris knew Rufus favoured him. Eris would be lying if he told anyone he didn’t favour Rufus as well. Eris could feel his eyelids drooping, but he watched as Maddox ran towards them from the other side of the hall, Priam close behind him. Eris felt heavy, so he leaned into Rufus, pain flaring through his side.

His vision was becoming blurred and he could barely hear his mother begging Beron to spare him and Lucien. The last thing Eris remembered before he lost consciousness was staring at his sword, thinking that the ruby eyes of the lion’s head on the hilt glowed with flames.