#he carved those buttons into him after all
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Continuing my TGCF re-listen/read, and fuck. Shit.
The first time we encounter Jun Wu after now knowing everything that happens is so sickening. There's this obvious camaraderie and banter that they have, it reminds me a lot of how I acted with some of my favorite teachers in school. The ones who were in charge of clubs I went to, and would sometimes give me a pass on assignments being late because they knew I did good work. I still had to be respectful, but there was a little of the backtalk that was acceptable from being a favored/gifted student.
(just realized Xie Lian gives me a lot of gifted student burn out feelings, aughhhh.)
Like, I can feel how even with the banter, Xie Lian really respects Jun Wu and wants him to be proud of him. He's so eager to do any task that Jun Wu asks of him. This is someone who supported his first ascension after all. Especially in the face of his father's wishes for him to remain crown prince at the time, I know that he must have latched onto Jun Wu as being one of the only authority figures in his life who he trusted.
The first thing he does is apologize for the wounds he inflicted on Jun Wu during the mock battle of his second ascension. One of the first things Jun Wu does is chide him for not keeping contact. When we know that Xie Lian did cry out for him, but he ignored him in order to try and mold him.
With reflection, you can definitely tell that he's trying to steer Xie Lian away from Hua Cheng, and there's something about the way that he recreates and gifts and exact replica of Xie Lian's old palace to him without asking him first that sits wrong with me. Maybe it's because it's in tandem with a dig about Xie Lian's living situation at Puqi shrine.
It makes my skin crawl, because he definitely feels patronizing, enough so that Xie Lian comments at least once that he's not nearly as naive as Jun Wu seems to think he is. He's lived through a lot of suffering, and has 800 years of experience and decisions behind him. It's uncomfortable how Jun Wu treats him. Especially with the foreknowledge that so much of Xie Lian's initial suffering and hard learned life lessons where at Jun Wu/Bai Wuxiang's hands!!! How dare he act like Xie Lian is still that boy of 17, when he is the one directly responsible for most of Xie Lian's suffering?
Just reading through it that first time and thinking, wow, it's nice that someone in the heavens from Xie Lian's past seems to genuinely care about him, even if they don't seem to understand his current self all that well vs listening to it now, and knowing exactly what this man has done to Xie Lian. My heart kind of leaps out of my throat everytime he touches Xie Lian.
Like I remember reading through the first time and thinking that something about this conversation and the way he treats Xie Lian/the way Xie Lian reacts to him makes me feel uneasy. And to be right about that at the end was still way more horrifying than I thought it would be.
#my post#tgcf#tian guan ci fu#hob#heaven official's blessing#xie lian#jun wu#tgcf spoilers#everybodys so worried about hua cheng hanging around xie lian#and i just want to scream that the thing they should be most afraid of is jun wu being anywhere near him#because he knows exactly where to push xie lians buttons to make him unsettled/distrust people#he carved those buttons into him after all
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Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.
Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov
Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.
Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.
But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.
But then that pompous bitch got in the way.
The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.
"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.
Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.
Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.
Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.
The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.
"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.
Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.
Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.
"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.
"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.
He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.
Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.
#my writing#yandere#tw yandere#yandere male#yandere x you#yandere x reader#x reader#fanfic writing#yandere knight#dead dove do not eat#yandere character#yandere x darling
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cw brief mentions of pregnancy
hook-up culture was one of the only ways you could get your fix without commitment. it’s hard to maintain any real relationships now, especially as a full time student (and slut). but you’d always been careful, having taken contraceptives, keeping condoms on you, etc etc.
though, none of them are 100% full proof.
you stare at the pregnancy test, wide-eyed. someone bangs on the bathroom door of the gas station, urging you to hurry up. but you can’t, the implications of those two little lines keeping you stuck to the seat.
when you ask your friends, they dismiss you, saying “you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” and when you call your parents..
you block out the interaction from your memory.
with no financial or emotional support, you are forced to scour the internet for a solution. an abortion is too expensive, and you can’t raise this thing when you’re about to enter your junior year of college.
all hope seems lost, till you find the shadiest ad on craigslist;
Looking for Baby to adopt. Surrogate or already pregnant. Will provide care for entire pregnancy.
it seems like a scam, even more so as you open it and skim through the benefits (a roof over your head, food and water, nearly $25k to start). everything about this seems too good to be true. after all, can you really trust something you saw on craigslist?
still, your eyes find a phone number and email address at the bottom of the ad, belonging to some guy named johnny mactavish. the foreign name throws you off even more, surely a name like that isn’t located in the united states of fuck all. though, it seems like you have no other solutions.
hesitantly, your mouse hovers over the ‘reply’ button, the clicking sound ringing in your ears, settling your fate.
——
johnny knew it was futile to post an ad looking for a surrogate on craigslist, but he didn’t see any other options (or rather, he ignores them). simon and him have been retired for some time now, settling in some small state. the woods offer some sort of privacy, a silence that comforts them rather than makes them shake in their sleep.
it seemed natural that having children would be the next step after living here for so long. johnny thanks tommy for finding a pretty bird and producing a nephew since it would’ve been harder to convince simon otherwise. the riley’s don’t seem like family men, yet simon is carving a little bear to send back to manchester, congratulating tommy on the announcement of his baby girl.
it makes johnny warm, but he can’t help but feel jealous. sure, simon is everything to him, his whole world, but it’s hard to procreate when all you got is a prick and shitter.
so he set up his little offer, though he might as well be suppressed with how nearly no one has reached out to him.
johnny’s about to take down the ad, ready to talk to simon about doing things a different way, when he suddenly gets a reply.
> this isn’t a joke, right?
johnny raises a brow at this, swiveling back to the computer and typing up his response.
< would nevr joke bout smth srs
and when five minutes passed, he presumed that would be the end of this little interaction, fueling johnny’s desire to take down the post.
that is, till he gets another response.
> well, is the position still open then?
he feels his heart stop, eyes widening as he reads the phrase over and over. a certain excitement wells in his chest, and he gets back on the keyboard before he can run out the room and tell simon the good news.
——
his last reply consists of a time, date, and address.
#sgt soap#lt ghost#ghoap au#ghoap x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#cw pregnancy#call of duty#5tars writings
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Work of art
pairing: sub!hyunjin x dom!afab!reader
genre: smut
word count: 7.3k
warnings: masturbation, foot job, degradation, body hair(does that need a warning), spanking, butt play, sex toys, hyunjin is called 'slut', ruined orgasm, pegging, restraints, hair pulling, overstimulation, cock milking, slapping, dom/sub dynamics, reader is called 'boss', light bdsm, praise(lmk if i missed something)
a/n: i need subby hyunjin like i need air to breathe, no joke! plus he said he hates shaving so i had to incorporate that fact into my fic🫣
~check out my: Masterlist
The first time Hwang Hyunjin walked into your studio with his hair tousled, sunglasses almost falling off of his nose, a coffee cup in his hand and a walk full of sass and confidence, you knew he was different.
In your line of work, you've met many different models, your specialty being erotic photography, you've captured many beautiful people of all shapes and sizes but no one was as captivating to you as Hyunjin was.
He was full of sex appeal, even when he was dressed, something about him excited you so much that you wished you could cross that line between work and pleasure and indulge in your fantasy of absolutely ruining the man smiling cheekily at you.
It wouldn't be the first time you crossed that line with your models, it's hard to stay desensitized while capturing the naked vunerability of someone. It's exhilirating to command a person's movement, have them in all kind of positions, especially if you're attracted to them.
You appreciated the beauty of a human body, any human body for that matter, you loved encapsulating all the little details in your work. Freckles, grey hairs, spots, knuckles, tummy folds, stretch marks, body hair... You found beauty in everyone. And sometimes you just wanted to give special appreciation to those bodies and those people.
Today is already the third time Hyunjin came to your studio, and even though you've already seen every part of him, you are always in awe of how beautiful he is, like he was carved out by the hands of a god.
"Hi, boss."- he smirks, jokingly calling you silly nicknames is always fun to him.
"Oh, hey there."- you whip around to look at him, and he looks effortlessly handsome, like he got up and put on the first things he found though you know he actually made an effort with his outfit.
You can see the details, the rings adorning his long fingers, the necklace framing his neck and the black cashmere shirt, two of the buttons undone revealing his prominent collarbone. The shirt is slightly crooked, sliding off of his left shoulder, revealing his smooth skin.
He takes you in too, your hair in a half updo held by an oriental looking hair pin, the black eyeliner on your eyes, making them look even sharper, and your black top, loose around your frame, your perky nipples on display since you hate wearing bras, your pants also flowy and your feet bare.
You hate being restricted while you work so you always dress as loose and casual as you can, unkowingly turning Hyunjin on as he takes mental notes and pictures of you.
"Brought you coffee too."- he says as he comes closer, and your nose is filled with his intoxicating scent mixed with the comforting smell of coffee, making you dizzy.
"Thanks, Jinnie."- you take the cup from him, your fingers grazing against each other's, sending a wave of electricity through your body.
"Why don't you go get comfortable while I prepare my camera?"- you say after you take a sip of coffee.
"No foreplay? No how are you, how's your week been?"- he jokes around, placing his stuff on the side and you look at him, your eyes narrowed and a smirk on your lips.
"We're gonna be here for hours, there's time to talk. Besides, you've done this before, you don't need foreplay."- you chuckle as he takes his shoes off.
"Maybe I like foreplay with you."- oh you know he's a flirt, he does it every time he comes here, taunting you and testing your patience.
If only he knew that he was playing with fire.
"Hm, maybe I won't give it to you for that exact reason."- you smirk and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you.
"Wow, you're mean."- he chuckles.
"Oh, you have no idea, pretty boy."- you say and the nickname goes straight to his dick. He got called a pretty boy many times by many different people, in more lewd situations than this one but hearing you call him that in your sultry voice thrilled him like nothing else.
"Where do you want me?"- he asks, dressed only in his shirt and his boxers, his long legs looking delicious.
"On the bed. We're doing a bed shoot today."
"Straight to it. I like that, boss."- he smirks and climbs onto the bed as you chuckle, adjusting some settings on your camera.
"Alright, let's warm up. Just do what naturally comes to you first."- you say, bringing your camera up.
And Hyunjin is a natural, he flirts with the camera easily. As soon as it's on him, the look in his eyes changes and it makes your core throb, the way his eyes stare at you hungrily through the lens.
Hyunjin is propped on his elbows and he throws his head back, revealing his long neck. He spreads his legs a little, looking absolutely delectable as he stares up at you.
You take a few photos as he gives you a few different versions of that pose, his hand coming up to undo another button of his shirt.
"Is that The Cure?"- he asks as you hum along to the music playing.
"Yeah."- you nod. "That's the mood for today."- you add and Hyunjin chuckles.
"Are you depressed or deeply in love?"- he jokes as you come closer to him and take a few close-ups.
"Neither of those. Not that it's any of your business, Hwang."- you smirk, and he cringes.
"Ew, don't call me by my last name."- he recoils as he changes positions, kneeling on the bed and sitting on his feet.
"What do you want me to call you? Pretty boy?"- you taunt, your hands on his thighs, spreading them apart. Hyunjin visibly gulps, his eyes boring into yours as he looks at you sweetly.
"That's much better."- he says, his breath short as he lets you adjust his hands so that they're in his lap, one wrist over the other, like you were gonna tie him up.
Your hand comes up to touch his chin and you lift his face up, your thumb pressing into his plushy lower lip. His lips part as he looks at you like he's mesmerized.
"Stay like that, pretty boy."- you smirk as you grab a chair and bring it closer to the bed.
You get up on it as Hyunjin looks at you wordlessly, his eyes following your movements.
You reach towards him and slide the shirt off his shoulder before you get into a position so you can snap a few photos looking down at him.
"Looking good?"- Hyunjin asks after a few more positions.
"Need your shirt off."- you say as you look through the photos, your brows furrowed in concentration.
"Your wish is my command, boss."- Hyunjin smirks, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as you look up from your camera.
The shit eating grin he has on his face as he undoes and slides the shirt off as slowly as he can, lets you know he's teasing you.
You stare intenly at him as he leisurely slides it off, the sleeves pooling around his wrists as he leans on them, his legs still spread, head lolled to the side. You can see the outline of his semi hard cock, and his happy trail disappearing under the top of his boxers. It's nothing new, you've seen him naked and fully hard already, taking pictures of him in the most vunerable state.
"Don't move."- you say and bring your camera up as Hyunjin gives you a sultry look and you snap a few more pictures.
"I want a few shots of your back and shoulders."- you say and Hyunjin nods, a smirk on his lips.
He gets rid of his shirt completely and turns his back to you. Your hand comes up to touch his hair as you play with it, making it look even more tousled than it was before.
You can hear Hyunjin's breath getting caught in his throat whenever your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, goosebumps rising on his skin and you're so close to him, he smells so good and you just want to lean in and leave kisses on his neck.
Your hands slide down his shoulders and arms and he leans into your touch, shivering a little as you run your fingertips on his upper back.
"Keep doing that and I'll lose my concentration very quickly."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly and you laugh at him, squeezing his arm a little.
"You're not that easy, are you?"- you smirk, removing your hands off of him and grabbing your camera.
"You wanna find out?"- he flirts again, looking back at you with a smirk.
"Stop flirting, we're working."- you tease as you get ready to take more pictures.
"Alright, I'm serious now. So serious."- Hyunjin smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head at him before he stills so you can do your job.
After some time, he gets turned towards you again and your eyes fall down between his legs immediately.
Hyunjin smirks as you eye his erection that's bulging and straining in his boxers.
"I didn't shave."- he whispers. "But it's trimmed. Is that okay?"
You look up, your eyes slightly widdened, the thought of his pretty cock framed like that made you so unbearably aroused, your pussy throbbing.
"More than okay, Jinnie."- you say, leaning closer to him without even realizing it, and your knee brushes against his bulge.
"Ah..."- he moans a little, his head falling back, eyelids droopy as he looks at you.
"Sorry, didn't mean to do that."- you swallow.
"I don't mind."- he says quietly, legs spreading more as he moves his hips up, brushing against your knee.
"Hyunjin."- you say in a warning tone but his hands grip at the sheets as he starts slowly rutting against you.
You want to stop him but he looks so freaking hot with his lips parted, knuckles white and pupils blown as he ruts against you like a desperate dog.
"You can't cum Hyunjin, I need more pictures before that."- you warn him, your hands on his hips, pressing down to stop his movement.
"S-sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."- he looks pathetic and embarassed as he tears his eyes away from you.
You chuckle, arousal dripping on your lace panties as you grab your camera.
You stand up on the bed, balancing for a moment before you speak up.
"You look really pretty when you're pathetic like that."- you smirk, snapping a few pictures of his already fucked out face.
"Yeah? You wanna make me more pathetic then?"- he taunts.
"Don't challenge me, pretty boy."- you say.
"Why not?"- he bites on his lip, you can see he's so desperate for you to do anything, touch him in any kind of way and though you always flirted with him, you never went this far before.
Your mind is getting a little cloudy at the sight of Hyunjin under you like that, like he's giving himself to you on a silver platter.
"I don't know if you can handle it."- you whisper.
"I can."- he's sure of himself and you know you're going to have so much fun with him.
You've noticed he always stares at your feet and you smirk, your eyes getting hazy as you find your balance on the bed again and place your foot on his thigh.
Hyunjin jerks under your touch immediately, leaning into you. You slide your foot towards his cock before you press into his erection.
"Ah!"- Hyunjin whimpers, his back arching on the bed as you start slowly moving your foot on his length, his cock twitching every time you touch his head.
"Y/n... fuck."- he whines and you use that moment to take more pictures of him.
His eyes snap open as he looks up at you, his vision blurry from the pleasure you're giving him, your toes circling his head that's leaking pre cum, forming a wet patch on his boxers.
"You really are pathetic, Hyunjin."- you chuckle lowly. "This is what you get off to?"
"Mm, yes, yes!"- he whines, his hips lifting up into your touch as you speed up and press harder into him.
His cock twitches violently against you, and he looks more beautiful than before, his face and neck flushed, his nipples perky, face fucked out and hair messy, his legs spread for you.
You use that moment to take more pictures of him, ones you will keep only in your private collection.
"Say it, pretty boy. Say what you are."- you demand.
"Pathetic! I'm pathetic!"- he whines loudly, face scrunching up in pleasure and you know he's close. His thighs shake and you smirk evilly.
"Yes, you are. A pathetic slut."- you say and he whimpers your name loudly before you remove your foot, leaving him hanging on the edge, ruining his orgasm.
"W-why'd you stop?!"- he gasps, fisting the sheets in frustration. You snap a picture as you laugh.
"I told you not to challenge me. And we're not done with work."- you say, kneeling down between his legs. "I need your cock to be wet and hard for the next pictures."- you caress his thigh and he moans, tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.
"Will you let me cum after that?"- he asks and he looks so fuckable in that moment that you just want to put away your camera and fuck his brains out but somehow you manage to calm down.
"Maybe."- you say and he sighs, wiping at his eyes.
"You really are mean."- he pouts.
"Just take those off and shut up."- you pinch his nipple quickly and he gasps, his eyes widdening and cheeks becoming even more flushed.
He obeys your command and slides his boxers down, throwing them somewhere on the side.
His cock slaps against his stomach, it's painfully hard and throbbing, the tip is red and angry, pre-cum oozing out of it, the vein running over his length is prominent. But what grabs your attention most is the neatly trimmed bush framing his cock so perfectly and you can't help the gush of arousal pooling on your panties.
Hyunjin shrinks a little under your eyes as you keep staring at his cock.
"I-is it okay like that?"- he asks, his voice wavering.
"It's so fucking hot."- you lick your lips.
"Really?"- Hyunjin shivers when you look into his eyes darkly.
"Really."- you whisper, hand reaching towards him. He thinks you'll wrap it around his cock, instead you place it on his navel, fingers gently running down his happy trail to his bush, playing with the hairs and lightly pulling on them. Hyunjin jolts, his cock twitching as electricity runs through his body.
"Oh... oh that feels good."- he whines as you play with his hair.
"Touch yourself for me, will you?"- you say, smirking as you move your hand away again and he whines in frustration again.
"Anything for you."- he says and the look in his eyes confirms his words, he would really do anything for you.
His long thin fingers wrap around his swollen cock as he starts stroking it.
"Slower."- you order and he obeys, hand moving painfully slowly as little moans spill from his lips. His eyes are trained on you as you keep taking pictures of him.
"Spread your legs more. Let me see everything, pretty."- you smirk and Hyunjin spreads his legs, bringing them up as he leans down on his elbow.
"This good?"- he asks, his voice breaking and lower than usually as he struggles not to jerk off faster.
"So good."- you chuckle and keep snapping pictures of him. Hyunjin's going crazy, he wants some kind of release but you have different plans for him.
"Stop now."- you say and he whimpers but moves his hand to the side, gripping at the sheets again as you snap photos of his pretty cock.
"Are those for work or for you?"- he smirks, almost breathless.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"- you smirk back at him and he sits up, his face close to yours.
"I can give you even better pictures for your private collection."- he whispers lowly.
"Oh yeah? What do you get out of it?"- you ask with a smirk.
"You."- he says.
"You want me?"- you chuckle, placing your hand on his chin and holding his face firmly in place.
"I want you so bad."- he whines.
"If you want me, Hyunjin... You're gonna have to be a good boy and take what I give you without complaints."- you warn, your voice sultry and low, your camera forgotten on the side.
"Okay, I can do that. I can be good for you."- he says quickly and you chuckle at his eagerness.
"We'll see about that."- you say and before he can answer you grab him and easily turn him on his stomach as he shrieks and scrambles to grab at the sheets.
Your hand wraps around the back of his neck as you push his face into the bed, your pelvis colliding with his ass. You lean over him, your other hand slowly running down his spine as Hyunjin shivers, his eyes wide and breaths ragged.
"You think you can take me, Jinnie?"- you chuckle lowly, blowing at his ear as your hand comes down to grip his asscheek and he mewls under you, scratching at the bed.
"Y-yes."- he whispers.
"Are you sure? This sweet hole looks so very tight."- your fingertips press into his fluttering entrance, just to tease him a little.
He gasps, leaning into your touch as his eyes roll back.
"I- yes, I can take it! Please!"- he whines desperately, dragging the tip of his cock against the satin sheets.
His eyes close in anticipation but you move away completely, leaving him bare and he hears the clicks of your camera before he can even open his eyes and look at you.
He starts getting up, but you're quick to place your hand on his back and push him down.
"Did I say you could move?"- you snap at him and Hyunjin shivers.
"N-no."- he gulps loudly and you tower over him.
"Then why did you move?"- you ask, pinching his butt and he jolts and whimpers.
"I won't do it again, I swear!"- he cries out as you smack his ass and watch as it jiggles deliciously.
"Good slut."- you smirk and leave him on the bed as you put your camera aside and go to your table. There's a drawer in the table, holding all kinds of fun things and Hyunjin breathes deep as he kneels on all fours.
It wouldn't be the first time he got fucked in the ass but no one was ever this demanding and degrading towards him and he was so excited that he felt like could cum untouched any moment now.
You found a bottle of lube and an unused butt plug, your feet padding on the floor and you get back to Hyunjin as he eagerly awaits for you.
"Eyes up front."- you say as you kneel behind him, placing the stuff on the side. You spread his legs more with yours and he whimpers a little, his hands gripping at the sheets above his head.
You practically drool at the sight of him, face down and ass up, his pretty hole on display just for you, the muscles on his arms flexing as he grips and releases the sheets.
You decide to take your sweet time with him, knowing how hard he is and how close to his release he is, the sadist in you loving the power you have over such a beautiful man.
You run your hands down his back to his dainty waist, grabbing it and caressing his soft skin. Your hands slide down to his ass and the back of his thighs as you explore his body, squeezing, slapping, fondling, worshipping.
Hyunjin keeps shivering and breathing hard as he leans into your hands, hungry for more, like he's never been touched before.
"P-please..."- he begs and you chuckle, spanking him lightly.
"You're gonna have to do better than that, pretty boy."- you click your tongue, grabbing his ass harshly and he moans, fingertips digging into the matress.
"Please, y/n, please touch me!"- he whines.
"You want me to touch you?"- you smack his ass again.
"Ah! Yes, please touch me!"
"Where? Where do you want me to touch you?"- you smirk, your hands massaging his asscheeks, fingertips close to where he needs you the most.
"My- I want your fingers inside me, please!"- he begs and you chuckle.
"Was that so hard to say?"- you tease him.
"N-no, it wasn't."- he stutters as you grab the lube and pour it all over your fingers, warming it up a little, before you place two of them on his fluttering hole.
Hyunjin's thighs shake in anticipation as you press on it and start moving your fingers in a circling motion.
"Ah, mm..."- Hyunjin melts instantly, leaning into your touch. What was it about you that made him surrender so easily?
You keep massaging his hole, circling it slowly as it pulsates and opens up under your touch, and you lean down pressing your lips into his upper back.
"Ahh!"- Hyunjin whimpers, enjoying the attention you're giving him.
His cock hurts so bad by now, he hopes you'll let him cum soon before he loses control and cums untouched.
Your lips keep worshipping his back as you slowly push your finger into him. He tenses for a moment and you bring your other hand up to caress his lower back while you keep pushing into him.
"Y/n"- he whimpers your name as you wiggle your finger inside him.
"So tight. Just for me."- you smirk against his skin, leaving another kiss on his spine.
"Yes, just for you."- he whispers, his breath getting caught in his throat when you start sliding your finger inside him slowly.
"But I think you can take more."- you say, slowly pulling out to add more lube before you push two of your fingers inside him.
"Ah, fuck!"- Hyunjin's body jerks forwards as he whimpers loudly.
"Look at that. Such a slutty hole, taking my fingers so well."- you say, and Hyunjin hears the camera click.
"A-ah w-what-" - he stutters as you push your fingers as deep as you can.
"Private collection."- you chuckle as you curl your fingers and start fucking directly into his prostate, making him moan loudly and claw at the sheets, his cock dragging against the bed and leaking onto it, and he feels like exploding right away.
"Please don't stop, please don't stop, please..."- he keeps repeating, his body shaking as he gasps and moans.
You sneak your hand around him, sliding it against his navel, until your fingertips reach his bush and you start playing with it again, pulling on the hair. Hyunjin falls apart, moaning loudly, not even caring how pathetic he looks and sounds as he pushes his ass back into you and ruts his cock against the bed.
"You wanna cum, slut?"- you ask, running your fingers through his pubic hair and pressing them into his skin as you keep abusing his prostate.
His cock throbs and he can't hold it in anymore, his body shakes violently, sweat sliding down his forehead.
"P-please I wanna cum."- he cries and you laugh, you got him exactly where you want him.
"Pretty boy wants to cum."- you mock him.
"Yes, please y/n! Please!"- he begs again.
"Will you let me do whatever I want with you?"- you smirk as you keep fucking into him fast, your other hand grabbing his balls and massaging them.
"Oh my fu- yes, yes you can do whatever you want with me!"- he whines and you smirk.
"You can cum."- you say and Hyunjin's whole body convulses as he explodes hard onto the bed, spurts of cum keep painting the sheets as he moans your name over and over again.
"Fuck, what a dirty slut you are."- you smack his ass hard as you pull out your fingers.
His hole flutters and he whimpers at the empty feeling.
"A pathetic dirty slut. Aren't you?"- you ask sternly, your hand tangled in his hair as you pull his head back.
"Yes, I'm a pathetic dirty slut!"- he cries.
You snicker, leaning away from him and he looks back at you, his eyes teary, sweat on his forehead.
"Wh-what are you doing?"- he asks, straining his neck and trying to look at your hands.
"See this pretty butt plug? I think it'd look even prettier inside you."- you say. "Don't you agree?"- you ask, teasing his entrance with it.
"Mm, yes. Put it in, boss."- he whines and you chuckle as you push the butt plug inside him slowly, watching his sweet hole swallowing it greedily.
When it's pushed all the way in, you caress his ass as you grab your camera.
"Be sweet and stay like that."- you say and Hyunjin just whimpers, the butt plug designed specifically to stimulate his prostate and his cock is getting hard again, twitching against the bed.
You snap a few pictures before you stand up and grab your shoes.
"Where are you going?"- Hyunjin shivers, still not moving from the position you ordered him to stay in.
"We are going to my house, pretty. Get dressed."- you say and Hyunjin's eyes widden as he scrambles to get up, his legs like jelly from the orgasm before and the toy inside him, stimulating him constantly.
You only ever brought one of your models home before, Nelle, and you had so much fun with her but Hyunjin was something different, he was captivating to you like no one else and a small part of you hoped this wasn't the last time you'd be going home with him.
Hyunjin barely managed to get dressed, having to somehow tuck his semi hard cock back into his boxers, whimpering while doing so and you enjoyed watching him struggle, he looked good enough to eat in that moment.
You practically dragged him to your car after locking up the studio and he sat in the passenger seat with a loud whimper, the butt plug pressing into his prostate harder.
The whole drive to your apartment, Hyunjin was tortured, he tried to get off somehow, gyrating his hips and palming himself but you slapped his thigh every time he did that, warning him to be good.
"Stop that or I won't let you cum all night."- you pinch his plushy thigh and he whimpers.
"S-sorry."- he apologizes, sweat trickling down his forehead as he breathes hard.
He almost fell apart by the time you arrived at your building and you had to help him walk to the entrance.
When you enter your apartment, Hyunjin looks around, trying to take in the modern art that was displayed everywhere in your space, the smell of you mixed with remnants of some kind of spicy scented candle was overflowing his senses and his body was buzzing.
"Want something to drink?"- you tease and he whines.
"Y/n please..."
"Please what? You have to use your words, pretty. Tell me exactly what you want or I won't do anything."- you smirk, pushing him against the wall, your thigh lodged between his legs, your hand holding his face firmly.
His eyes roll back as he whimpers and tries to rut against you.
"You can form a sentence, can't you?"- you say in a mocking tone, your hand sliding down to wrap around his neck.
"Y-yes... I-I want you to fuck me, please."- he whimpers and you laugh, stepping back from him.
"Oh you're gonna have to work hard for that."- you say, grabbing his wrist gently and leading him to your room.
"I'll do anything! I swear!"- he scrambles behind you.
"Strip."- you order as you push him into your room, closing the door with your foot.
Hyunjin obeys quickly, peeling off his clothes and throwing it aside.
"You're making a mess, Hyunjin."- you warn and he gasps, grabbing his clothes from the floor and placing it on the chair next to your table.
"Sorry."- he mutters, his face is flushed as he looks down, avoiding your eyes and awaiting your next order.
"Kneel."- you say and his eyes widden a little before he falls on his knees, hitting your carpet with a muffled thud.
"Hands on your back, head down."- you order and he does everything you say.
You can see his breathing is becoming ragged, his pretty cock twitching and leaking down onto your expensive carpet.
"You're gonna wait like that and I don't want to hear a peep from you, understood?"
"Yes, boss."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly, eyes glued down to his body.
You leave the room and a few moments later, Hyunjin hears the shower running.
He curses under his breath, you're really enjoying torturing him. But, he knows he wouldn't be here if he wasn't enjoying it.
His mind keeps making up scenarios of what you would do to him, he wondered if you're even gonna let him taste you or fuck you.
His cock was getting painfully hard at the image of you riding his face, making him suffocate on your sweet pussy as your plush thighs frame his face perfectly.
He wanted to touch himself so bad but he knew you'd punish him for that, even though he would take your punishments happily, he'd rather you reward him for his good behaviour so he stays still.
You come back some ten minutes later, refreshed and naked, the only thing you have on is a strap on and Hyunjin dares to look up at you, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he whimpers.
"Pretty boy, is this what you want?"- you ask, strolling closer to him.
"Y-yes, please."- he whimpers again.
"Cock slut."- you snicker at him, hand in his hair as you grip him and pull on his head harshly.
"Ah!"- he moans loudly, his fingertips digging into his palms, his thighs and biceps flexing and straining as his hard cock twitches.
"Suck."- you simply order, pressing the tip of your cock on his plump lips. Hyunjin's eyes get hazy instantly as he wraps his pretty cherry lips around your tip.
He looks so sweet as he keeps his eyes on yours, sucking eagerly on the head of the dildo, getting it wet with his spit as it drips down his chin.
"You can take more."- you say lowly, pressing his head towards you and pushing more of it in. He moans around you, swallowing around your cock as his eyes roll back.
You fuck his face slowly and Hyunjin keeps moaning, taking more in, the gagging noises he makes as he chokes on the dildo get you extremely wet and horny.
"You look so pretty with your mouth full of cock. You were made just for this."- you smirk, reaching towards the table you were near to and grabbing your camera that was left there.
Hyunjin whimpers around you, choking on your length again.
"I'm gonna take a few pictures of your pathetic face, slut. Stay just like that."- you say as he swallows as much of the dildo as he can.
Hyunjin tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn't gag while you take pictures and his cock keeps leaking and throbbing painfully, begging for any kind of release.
You put your camera aside and start fucking his face, Hyunjin whines around you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs so he doesn't fall from the sheer strength you're moving your hips with.
"Why are you touching me?"- you slap his cheek with two of your fingers lightly before you pull out of his mouth.
Hyunjin coughs, eyes fluttering as he grabs at his throat and looks up at you.
"Fuck, I'm sorry!"- he whines and you smirk, circling around him. He tries to turn around but you place your foot on his upper back and force him down into the carpet, his cheek leaned on it and his ass lifted up.
"You wanna be fucked, slut?"- you ask, holding his head down with your foot.
"P-please..."- he whimpers.
"Let me see you fuck yourself with the butt plug. I wanna see how much you want it."- you say with an insidious smile.
Hyunjin's hand is shaky as he reaches behind him and grips the base of the toy. He mewls as he starts moving it in and out of his hole slowly.
"Do you even want it? Try harder."- you press your foot between his shoulder blades, holding him down as his eyes wander and look at you.
He whines and starts fucking himself faster, his free hand gripping at the carpet as he tries his best.
"Faster, slut!"- you lean down and spank him hard making him jolt and whimper loudly.
"F-fuck!"- he swears, moving his arm faster, fucking the butt plug right into his prostate. His eyes are shut tightly, his cock is constantly twitching and he's close to his release.
"Faster!"- you smack him again.
"M-my arm hurts."- he whimpers and you chuckle.
"You're acting like a little princess, Hyunjin. You want me to lay you down and do all the work?"- you ask, moving your foot away and leaning closer to him, your hand covering his and helping him fuck himself.
"N-no! I want what you want!"- he cries.
"No, you don't. You don't get to want anything. I told you not to taunt me, didn't I?"- you smirk, pushing the butt plug deep inside his hole.
"I'm sorry, boss. I'm so sorry!"- tears gather in his eyes and you smirk, slapping his hand away and pulling the butt plug out.
"You're gonna do all the work."- you chuckle lowly, sitting on the bed as Hyunjin kneels and looks at you.
"I am?"- he asks, confused as to what you're asking him to do.
"Yes. What are you waiting for? Come and sit on my dick, slut."- you order and Hyunjin gasps, scrambling to his feet and almost running to you.
You have your camera with you and a bottle of lube which you hand to Hyunjin.
"Make me wet."- you say and he whimpers as he spreads the lube on his hands before he grabs the dildo and starts jerking it off.
His eyes fall to your breasts and he wishes he could suck on your sweet nipples and lay his face on them but at this point, he's sure you wouldn't allow that.
Hyunjin straddles you, hovering over your cock and you watch him with a smirk.
He grabs his asscheeks, spreading them apart and slowly sliding his hole on the wet strap-on.
The tip catches his pulsating hole and he mewls loudly as he slowly brings his hips down on yours, taking the whole thing in one slide, filled up to the hilt.
The way he looks in that moment is worth thousands of pictures and you grab your camera. Hyunjin stays still as you take pictures of him, his hole clenching around you, his cock twitching constantly, the pre-cum dripping down and pooling on your stomach.
"Come on, fuck yourself pretty boy."- you smirk and Hyunjin starts slowly sliding up and down on your cock, his dick jumping up and down with every move he makes, his thighs flexing from all the hard work he's doing.
"S-shit, ahh!"- he moans, beads of sweat already covering his forehead and sliding down the side of his face.
Your eyes roam all over his frame and you can't believe you have a man this beautiful falling apart on top of you.
Your eyes keep falling down to his cute bush, wanting to touch him again and pump his pretty cock, milk him dry until he cries for you to stop.
But you're patient and you let him set the pace for a little while as he gradually keeps speeding up, his hole hungry to be filled.
His eyes are closed and you smirk as you grab his hips and start fucking up into him without warning.
"Ah! Fuck!"- he almost screams, his eyes snapping open and finding yours.
You're fucking up into him fast and hard, using all your strength to abuse his prostate and he keeps moaning loudly, fucking himself on you like a feral animal.
"Look at you, taking my cock so well."- you praise him. "You were made for this."
"Yes, I was made to take your cock!"- Hyunjin moans, his mind completely gone as he chases his high.
"You're not allowed to cum yet."- you say and he whines.
"P-please, please, I need to cum! Please, I wanna cum for you, show you how good you make me feel."- he begs, his eyes glassy, the look in them like a kicked puppy and you adore him so much in that moment.
"Fine, but there will be consequences."- you smirk but Hyunjin just thanks you over and over again as he lets go, his cum shooting out and covering your stomach in it, a few drops reaching your breasts.
Before he can even come down from it, you manage to flip him over with your cock still inside him.
He gasps, grabbing at your sheets as you hover over him, pulling the dildo out of him only to push it back in harshly, bottoming out inside him.
"Fuck!"- he curses, tears and sweat mixing on his face and you grab his sensitive cock and spit on it.
"Y/n..."- he cries as you start jerking his soft cock, moving the dildo slowly inside him.
"It's not y/n to you!"- you warn him with a slap on his cheek and Hyunjin gasps, his cock twitching in your hand from the pain you gave him.
"Boss! I'm sorry!"- he apologizes for the nth time tonight and you push in deeply, placing your hand on his stomach and pressing down.
Hyunjin moans, his legs jerking up and you chuckle.
"See how deep inside you I am? You love being filled up like this cause you're just a little cock slut. My cock slut."- you run your hand down and pull on his little bush.
"I'm your cock slut!"- Hyunjin whines, arching into your touch as you keep stimulating him both on the outside and the inside.
His cock hurts and he thinks he can't take anymore but you know he can. You keep jerking him off, running your fingertip on his slit, your other hand playing with the hair framing his dick, your cock deep inside him, the tip pressing into his sweet spot.
Hyunjin has completely surrendered to you, his head lolling to the side as he lets you torture him.
When he's fully hard again, you slide your cock out of him and he looks up at you, his eyes almost crossed from the pleasure running through his body.
"Get on all fours."- you order and he slowly turns around, his face smushed in your pillow and ass up in the air. You stand up and Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you open up a drawer. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you'll pull out of it this time.
"Close your eyes and put your hands above your head."- he obeys, his forehead pressing into your pillow as he breathes hard.
You place one handcuff on his wrist, putting the chain around the headboard of your bed before you snap the other handcuff closed around his wrist. Hyunjin whimpers, looking up at his restrained hands.
"Spread your legs more."- you say and he does as he's told. He looks down between his legs and sees you grabbing more restraints. His heart skips a beat when you secure the bar between his legs, keeping them spread apart for you.
"Oh god..."- Hyunjin whimpers loudly, trying to close his legs just to test it but he can't.
"This is to make sure you don't try to close your legs on me."- you smirk, your hands roaming on his back, ass and the back of his thighs.
"I would never!"- he says and you chuckle.
"Good boy."- you praise him, hands on his asscheeks as you spread them apart.
You slowly push inside his little hole, stretching him to adjust you again and Hyunjin grips at the handcuffs, moans spilling from his pretty lips as you bottom out.
"Since you wanted to cum so badly earlier, you will cum now. As many times as I want you to."- you snicker and grip his hips, fucking into him harshly.
"A-ah!"- Hyunjin's voice breaks as his eyes widden.
Your hips keep slapping into his as you fuck his ass, his cock brushing against your sheets contantly as he drools on your pillow, little moans and groans spilling out of his lips, making your pussy throb with arousal.
Two orgasms later, Hyunjin is constantly trying to close his legs and move away but you keep pushing him back on your cock, you know he's okay unless he uses his safeword.
Your hand tangles in his hair and you grip it, pulling his head back, your other hand wrapping around him to grab his tortured cock.
"I- I can't..."- he's crying and drooling, his body sweaty and his muscles aching.
"You can give me one more, I know you can."- you coo at him and he whines, he will try for you. "Yours is a greedy little hole."- you smirk.
You fuck into his prostate, jerking him off at the same pace and Hyunjin's whole body shudders violently as he moans so loudly that you know the neighbours can hear him.
"B-boss ahh, it hurts!"- he moans.
"You love that, you little slut. Come on, give me one more!"- you order, smacking his ass hard.
Hyunjin chokes on his spit as he spasms, coming all over your hand and the sheets and you milk him dry as he shakes.
"No more... please no more..."- he cries and you finally release him and slide out of his abused hole.
"Wow."- you grab the camera and snap a few pictures of his ruined body as he shivers.
"P-please, untie me."- he says and your eyes soften as you put the camera on the night stand.
You remove the restraints slowly, removing your strap too before you put your arms around Hyunjin and pull him into your body. Both of you are sweaty and gross and the bed is a mess but neither of you care as you cling onto each other.
"You okay?"- you ask, running your hands through his damp hair.
"Mhm. So good."- he whispers, the side of his face smushed into your breast.
"I'm gonna run us a bath and you wait here, okay?"- you say and Hyunjin looks up at you with a dopey smile.
"You forgot something, boss."- he says.
"What is it?"- you ask and he sits up as best as he can, his face close to yours.
"You never kissed me."- he pouts and you chuckle as he leans in.
"Can I?"- he whispers on your lips.
"I think we're way pass that."- you say and press your lips into his.
The kiss is heated and messy like both of you were thirsty and couldn't get enough of each other, teeth nipping at your lips, your tongues dancing together, spit dribbling down your chins.
"I- I didn't get to make you cum."- he pouts at you sweetly again.
"That is something you need to deserve, darling."
"I will work extra hard for that, I promise."- Hyunjin's hand is on your cheek and your heart stirs awake at his touch.
"I believe you."- you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.
"By the way, I was gonna ask you something before all this happened."- he says as you get up to prepare the bath.
"Yes?"
"What are you doing tomorrow at 7pm?"- he smirks.
"Depends on what you're offering."- you smirk back.
"I was gonna ask you out on a d-date."- he stutters shyly and you almost melt into a puddle. "There's this gallery I wanted to visit and we could grab some dinner too?"
His eyes are big and pleading as he stares up at you and the small part of you that hoped to take Hyunjin home more than once, grows bigger.
"Alright, it's a date, pretty boy."
✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz
#stray kids#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz smut#stray kids smut#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin hard hours#hyunjin hard thoughts#hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin imagines#stray kids hyunjin#skz fluff#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin#sub stray kids#sub hyunjin#sub skz#dom reader
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hello mae! you said that you’re tentatively thinking about doing poly! jily? how about them x shy!reader who is used to spending holidays alone but now that she’s in a relationship, James and Lily wanna give her experiences of like carving pumpkins, baking cookies, or something like that.
just cute and domestic fall activities!! I hope that’s enough.
Thank you for requesting lovely!
poly!Jily x shy!reader ♡ 845 words
You smile, and James plants his lips on your cheek just before the flash.
“Perfect,” Lily says while the camera whirs. She takes the photo it spits out, going to stow it in a shady corner of the porch.
“Now one with you,” James urges.
“No.” Lily waves him off as you second James’ request. “How would we get all of us and our pumpkins in it?”
“James has long arms,” you say.
"Yeah, Evans." James grabs you roughly around the shoulders, making your face heat even as you smile. "I have long arms. Give it here."
After some debate Lily hands over the camera. James holds it out as far as he can, waiting until you’re all holding up your jack-o-lanterns before pressing the button.
It goes beside the other photo, waiting for the film to develop. You know as soon as it does, both photos will be clustered in with the others on James and Lily’s fridge, held up by magnets beginning to lose their strength under the weight of so many. Lily has always liked to take pictures, and ever since you got together she’s been cramming ones of you into every empty space. This relationship is relatively new for you, and most days you’re still trying to figure out where you fit, but Lily and James do everything to make you feel welcome. In a million tiny ways, they show you all the time that they care just as much for you as they do for each other.
James looks between your pumpkins pridefully. “Whose do we think turned out the best?”
“Lily’s,” you say at the same time as Lily says, “Mine.”
James’ mouth falls open. “Mine was good too!”
“Sorry, Jamie.” You give his shoulder a consoling pat. “Hers is just better.”
The fact of the matter is, your girlfriend was simply patient where you and James were not. She outlined her jack-o-lantern’s face beforehand in marker, used a small knife to achieve the curvatures of one heart-shaped eye and one winking one, and took the time to make the edges of her cuts look nice and clean. James and you, however, tried to freehand things with much larger knives; it had not gone quite so well.
“I think there should be points for creativity,” says James, frowning at his botched pumpkin. He’d tried to give it round eyes, and in the process accidentally cut more than he meant to. The result is jagged and vaguely upsetting, so eventually he decided it was an ill pumpkin and trailed its entrails out of its mouth so it looks like it’s vomiting pumpkin guts.
“It was a very creative solution,” Lily tells James. And to you, “You did really well for your first time, too, sweetheart.”
You snort. Yours is nearly as bad as James’. Both of your partners had to show you how to saw through the pumpkin flesh more than once to keep you from yanking the knife out and stabbing yourself. After many tutorials, you’d managed two triangle-shaped eyes, but the teeth you’d tried to put in your jack-o-lantern’s mouth had fallen out, so now it just looks like a rather simplistic, very upbeat face.
“You did,” Lily insists, but she’s repressing a laugh too as she looks down at your pumpkin. “It’s cute.”
“It looks like something a five-year-old could have done,” you acknowledge.
“You and a five-year-old have about the same amount of experience carving pumpkins, so that’s not really so bad,” says James. He reaches for the polaroids Lily took. “Let’s see how these turned out.”
“James Potter,” Lily’s voice goes sharp, “don’t you dare touch those with your slimy hands.”
“Okay, alright.” James holds his hands up in the air. He stands instead, backing away slowly like Lily has him at gunpoint. “C’mon, lovie, let’s go fish the seeds out in the sink.”
“What for?” you ask, following him as he carries your large bowl of pumpkin entrails inside.
“If you separate the seeds and roast them, you can eat them.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pumpkin seeds before.”
“Nope.”
“Ugh. You poor, deprived girl.” James takes your face in his hands, and you smile despite the slick feeling of his pumpkin-y fingers on your cheeks. His eyebrows scrunch pityingly as he kisses above your nose. “We’ll right that wrong today, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”
“You haven’t been missing out on much,” Lily says, slipping past the two of you with your photos. She wedges them underneath a magnet on the fridge. “It’s a lot of effort for a snack.”
“She only says that because she can’t stand the guts,” James tells you conspiratorially.
“Really?” You mash your hands into the stringy pumpkin bits. “I kind of like them.”
Lily makes a face. “They’re all slimy and weird. And sticky.”
“Wimp,” James teases.
“You’ve just called them guts, James. In what world does that sound appealing?”
“Angel,” James says in a quiet voice, “you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
You frown at him. “Why?”
He picks up a small mass of pumpkin guts and lobs it at your girlfriend.
“James!”
#poly!jily#poly!jily x reader#poly!jily x shy!reader#poly!jily x fem!reader#poly!jily x you#poly!jily x y/n#poly!jily x self insert#poly!jily fanfiction#poly!jily fanfic#poly!jily fic#poly!jily fluff#poly!jily imagine#poly!jily scenario#poly!jily drabble#poly!jily blurb#poly!jily oneshot#poly!jily one shot#james potter#james potter x reader#lily evans#lily evans x reader#james potter x lily evans x reader#jily x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders valkyries#marauders girls
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Exclusive Scoop: Love on the Grid
✦- Authors Note: isaw this in my drafts and decided to post it, might also be my last fanfic on tumblr cuz i js dont rlly like tumblr anymore idk but i'll still be posting blue lock fanfics on ao3 ig...
✦- pairings: Carlos Sainx jr x Journalist!reader.
✦- summary: After interviewing him for so long, carlos dcides to take the reader for a date, finally confessing his feeling for the journalist.
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You had always felt that the interview was much more than asking questions; it was a dance of finding a balance between curiosity and rapport. It was your mantra as a motorsport journalist, and it worked quite well. From coverage of Formula 2 to interviews with world champions, you had carved yourself a little nook within the paddock.
Among the many faces you’d come to know in the sport, Carlos Sainz stood out. From your first interaction during his Toro Rosso days to now, as Ferrari’s pride, he’d always been gracious, witty, and effortlessly charming. Over the years, your interviews with him had evolved into something more. Something that felt personal.
But it was still work. That's what you kept telling yourself as you navigated your way toward the Ferrari hospitality area on a steamy Saturday in Singapore.
The paddock was alive with energy, the air alive with the purring of engines and the chatter of fans and teams. You spotted Carlos leaning against the railing, his red Ferrari cap slightly askew as he laughed at something said by an engineer.
"Carlos," you called, stepping closer. He turned, his grin widening as he spotted you.
"Ah, mi periodista favorita!" he exclaimed, pushing off the railing. "Here to ask me why I'm so good around street circuits?"
"Maybe I'm here to ask why you're so insufferable," you shot back, smirking as you adjusted the strap of your bag.
He clutched his chest dramatically. "You wound me. I thought we were friends."
"Pals who pose the tough questions," you shot back, digging for your recorder.
The interview flowed as smoothly as ever, with Carlos giving thoughtful answers to your questions while sprinkling in his usual humor.
He spoke of strategy, his confidence in the car, and the challenges of Singapore's grueling track. But there were the moments his gaze would land on you, his tone softening as if this conversation meant more than just a headline.
You always ask good questions," he said out of the blue, and he caught you by surprise.
"Thanks," you said, blinking at the sincerity in his voice. "I try to keep it interesting."
"You do," he said, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.
It was one of those moments that just hung in the air, making you slightly flustered and scrambling to wrap up the interview. As you were about to leave, Carlos seemed to have hesitated.
"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked casually, though looking uncharacteristically nervous.
"Just editing this interview," you said with a tilt of your head. "Why?
Carlos shifted, scratching the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me. Not just as a journalist," he added hastily. "As you."
Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't every day that a Formula 1 driver- Carlos Sainz no less-asked you out.
"I'd love to," you said, a smile spreading across your face.
Back in the hotel room, one could not help but have the evening weigh upon their shoulders. Was this dinner? Or was this something entirely else? Carlos was being friendly, always, but this felt very different. A hesitant kind of nervousness in him all that evening betrayed something deeper.
You dismissed the thoughts and began to get ready. You put on an outfit that was just right-balanced between chic and casual enough to feel confident with but not overdone.
Then, when Carlos texted to let you know he was downstairs, you grabbed your bag and began to head toward the lobby.
He stood waiting beside the car, his caramel skin set off by a crisp, white button-down shirt. He grinned when he caught your eye and opened the door with a flourish.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice husky.
"Thank you," you said, your face warming. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
The restaurant Carlos had selected, La Perla, was tucked away from busy thoroughfares in Singapore-a little jewel of a place. Darkened light and soft live guitar music playing made the setting intimate.
Carlos pulled out a chair for you; his hand brushed against yours as you sat down. "Hope you like Spanish," he said with a grin.
"I'd be worried if you didn't take me to a Spanish restaurant," you teased, drawing a laugh.
The meal was a real culinary masterpiece: plates of jamón ibérico, perfectly cooked seafood, rich paella -all shared between you as conversation flowed effortlessly.
"So," said Carlos, leaning back against the chair, "tell me something about yourself that I don't know."
An eyebrow had arched. "That's a tough one. You've asked me a lot of questions over the years."
"Exactly," he said, eyes shining with play. "Now it's my turn to be the journalist."
You'd considered for a minute before responding with, "Okay. I never actually planned on being a motorsport journalist. I went to school for literature."
"Literature?" Carlos leaned forward, interest piqued. "How did you end up here?
It was a sideline, you continued, "Doing a few local races for this little magazine, and then I was hooked. The energy of it all just drew me in. The rest is history."
Carlos nodded thoughtfully. "You're good at it. Really good."
"Thank you," you said softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.
He leaned across the table, his fingers brushing yours. "I mean it. You're more than just good-you're one of the best."
After dinner, Carlos suggested a walk along the waterfront. The city's lights reflected from the water, making a shimmering backdrop as the two of you strolled side by side.
"Do you always sweet-talk your way through interviews?" You asked, looking up at him.
"Only when the journalist happens to be someone special," he returned, smooth and low, sending your heart fluttering for cover.
You rolled your eyes, though couldn't suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Is this your way of saying I'm the favourite?"
"Absolutamente," he replied deadpan, though with a naughty glint in his eye.
You laughed, shaking your head. "Careful, Carlos. People might start talking."
"Let them," he said, stopping in his tracks.
You turned to face him, your breath hitching as his gaze locked onto yours. "What is it?" you asked softly.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time," he admitted, his voice steady but quiet. "Every time I saw you in the paddock, I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how. Tonight, I realized I didn't want to wait anymore."
Your heart pounded as he stepped closer, his hands gently cradling your face. "Life's too short not to take a chance," he murmured, before leaning in.
The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but as you responded, it deepened, filled with all the emotions words couldn't express.
When you finally pulled away, Carlos rested his head against yours, the tiniest of smiles on his lips. "This feels right," he whispered.
"It does," you replied, your voice not much above a whisper.
As you sat reviewing your interview notes the next morning, you just couldn't help but smile. The professional line you'd always maintained had blurred, and for the first time in your career, you didn't mind.
It was as if Carlos had changed something inside you-he had reminded you that it wasn't just the stories you told, but those you lived.
And as your phone buzzed with the new message from him, that is when you realized this was only just the very beginning of your own inspiring story.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
#anonziesssz#f1#formula 1#laylas works ⊹ ࣪ ˖#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz jr x reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz x y/n#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine
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Bite Me (HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃)
A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! I’m dressed as a kitten tonight because…well. ;) This year's Halloween Imagine simply had to go to Sylus.
Words: 2029 Warnings: semi-public smut, biting
“Pleeeeeease?” You drew the word out, putting on your best puppy face. Sylus was a hard one to convince. But if there was one opportunity to spend time with him in public, with your friends, it was Halloween.
Tara and Simone had invited you to a party on the 31st, a costume party you desperately wanted to go to with Sylus. It would be the perfect chance for him to dress up and remain undetected. Besides, the idea of dancing with him, grinding against him on the dance floor surrounded by strobe lights and fog…it was on occasion you both knew would lead to sex sooner or later.
“No, kitten. You go and have fun with your friends. I’m not the type to play dress up and get drunk on cheap party alcohol.”
But Sylus was a tough nut to crack. He really wasn’t the type for parties like that, you knew him well enough by now to know that. Still, you’d hoped he’d make an exception for you. After all, it was Halloween! The best time of the year!
The connection of the video call wavered for a moment.
“Sylus, pleeeease? You don’t have to do anything crazy. How about we just smear some fake blood all over you? Then you can say you’re dressed as a serial killer. That should do it!”
“A serial killer? That’s what you think would suit me?” He didn’t sound offended, instead he gave you a low chuckle. “Go to bed, kitten. I still have work to do and you will complain to me in the morning that I kept you awake.”
“Well, you are keeping me awake! Just say yes and I can go to sleep peacefully!”
“No. Good night, sweetie. Sweet dreams.”
He hung up before you could prepare a comeback. You growled. Damn it. But for what it was worth…at the very least, Sylus had just given you the perfect idea for your Halloween costume this year.
You were a little irritated when you got ready for the party the following evening. Applying your make-up meticulously, you eyed your outfit. A black bodysuit, a black skirt, black tights, high boots you normally wore for hunting, glued-on fake whiskers, and adorable cat ears made you absolutely certain that Sylus would have loved your costume of choice.
As you drew on a little button nose with your eyeliner, you debated whether you should send him a picture. But he didn’t deserve that, really, right? You could respect him not wanting to go to a party with you but you couldn’t help but feel bitter he’d turned you down regardless. He knew you loved Halloween!
You sighed, glancing down when a message from Tara popped up on your phone.
Are you ready, friend? We’re outside!
You nodded at your reflection. You were ready. With or without Sylus. Tara’s friend would drive you tonight so you could drink. And you were just on time too, arriving just before midnight.
The building where the party took place was decorated brilliantly. There were spiderwebs in the corners, garlands and pumpkin string lights lining the walls, and orange and purple strobe lights illuminating the dance floor. Fog wrapped around the ankles of the people dancing.
Pumpkins with spooky faces carved into them laughed at your face, and the selection of snacks and drinks was phenomenal. The bass of the music reverberated in your chest the more you mixed in with the crowd, with Tara holding your hand so she wouldn’t lose you.
You went with a Dracula shot for your first drink—vodka and cranberry juice—before hitting the dance floor. It’s just that someone was missing for this to be truly fun. God damn it.
You didn’t want to be one of those girls who couldn’t enjoy themselves without their boyfriend anymore. You could and you would. Still, it was alright to wish Sylus was here, right?
With a sigh, you nodded when Tara gestured she would get another drink and kept on spinning around on the dance floor—and rolled your eyes when a stranger placed his hands on your waist from behind.
“Go away! I have a boyf—” You flipped around only to be met with a very familiar figure. Your heart skipped a beat. Sylus.
“Sy-Sky! You…you’re here!”
“And you look absolutely ravishing. My kitten is a kitten. How adorable.”
Heat crept up your cheeks. Sylus didn’t exactly look bad either. A small trickle of blood decorated the right corner of his mouth, and his black shirt wasn’t buttoned up all the way. A pair of fake fangs completed the look when he flashed you a mischievous grin.
“You…you’re a vampire!”
“Let’s just say our conversation inspired me. Besides, I wasn’t keen on the idea of smearing fake blood all over myself.”
Oh, but I would have loved to roam my hands all over your bare chest, Sylus. You cleared your throat.
“But…you’re here! I thought you didn’t want to come…”
“I changed my mind. You seemed rather upset when I declined.”
You smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Tara returned with your drinks before you could say anything else. You passed the one she handed you on to Sylus and leaned against him, careful not to smudge your makeup on his shirt and ruin it.
“Oh hello! Sky, right? Lovely to see you again! So you’re a vampire?” Tara began.
“And you. I am indeed. And you’re a…”
“A werewolf-zombie-witch!”
You chuckled. “Tara couldn’t decide which of the three she wanted to do so she combined all three of them.”
“I see. Very creative.”
“I’m sure you two want some alone time. Here, take my drink, I’ll meet you later!” She left with a wink before you could protest—not that you had any. You all but longed to throw yourself into Sylus’s arms. Which you immediately did as soon as she was out of sight.
“Kitten, you’re going to spill our drinks.” But instead of pushing you away, his arms wrapped around you even tighter.
“Let’s get rid of them then.” You downed your little cocktail way too fast for it to be healthy and put the plastic cup on a nearby snack table. Sylus took his time with his drink before doing the same though. You almost started tapping your foot impatiently—and you were certain he was doing this on purpose because the amused expression on his face spoke volumes.
God, he looked so handsome tonight. Your mind drifted back to that conversation you’d had with him, back when he’d taken you to this old castle and you’d slept in front of the fireplace. You’d told him he resembled a vampire…and right now, you wanted him to bite you so badly you could already feel yourself getting wet. Fuck.
“Dance with me!”
“Are you tipsy already?”
“That first shot was strong. And I had two glasses of wine prior to coming here so… probably yes.”
He shook his head, smirking.
“Now dance with me!”
“So demanding, kitten.” Sylus wrapped his arm around your waist and flung you around so your back was pressed against his chest. He moved you both to the rhythm of the music, his face buried in your neck.
“That’s a new perfume,” he muttered.
“Should the fact that you can tell concern me?”
“You tell me, kitten.”
You grinned and kept on dancing, your behind grinding against his crotch in the process. Again, and again and again…for what felt like an eternity, ignoring the rest of the crowd as if you two were the only one who existed.
“I can’t guarantee anything if you keep rubbing yourself against me like that, kitten,” he murmured with a start.
“Maybe that’s the plan,” you whispered back.
Sylus’s gaze darkened. Challenge accepted. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Still, you were unprepared for when he wrapped his hand around your wrist with a start and dragged you out of the main room into the hallway, crimson eyes darting around in an attempt to find...somewhere private, assumingly.
You laughed, the sound echoing through the building. Out here, the music was duller, the bass more bearable. Your eyes were ringing from the noise inside and you registered a little too late what was happening when Sylus tried for a broom closet and pulled you inside without any forewarning.
“That’s not very romantic!”
He huffed a laugh. “Romantic is for when we get home and I can make love to you in my bed. Be glad we’re gonna be here for a while longer or else I would have ripped those clothes off of you already. This…will have to suffice.”
With but one swift motion, he hooked his index fingers under your tights and pants and pulled them down to your knees before you lifting you up and against the wall, forcing your legs apart to accommodate his body.
You bit your lower lip, your pussy pulsing with need.
“S-Sylus,” you choked out, “c-condom?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, kitten. I have some with me.”
Your breathing was heavy by the time he nestled with his belt and eventually, freed his erection. You understood now why he’d been so eager to drag you off now. He was hard. He was struggling to roll the condom over his length while refusing to let you down. But as soon as he managed…you did not receive a forewarning before he buried himself inside you to the hilt, growling against your neck.
“F-fuck, Sylus!”
His hand came up to press against your mouth, keeping you from making a sound. “Quiet, kitten. We don’t want anyone to hear us, now do we?”
“T-the music is t-too loud a-anyway…” you said, muffled because of his palm.
Sylus chuckled, his lips ghosting over your neck as he thrust up into you, hitting your sweet spots with every single stroke.
But instead of giving you a hickey like he normally did (and then watching your reflection in the mirror afterward, smug and amused as you tried to cover it up with make-up when you had to get back to work)…he bit down on your neck. Hard.
Whatever fangs he was using, they held onto dear life as if he’d superglued them on. They were pointy, painful…but not painful enough to seriously cause you any distress. If anything… fuck, this was so hot…
You moaned, throwing your head back to give him better access. At this point, you didn’t even care if he drew blood. Would he drink it? If he broke the skin and a few droplets sneaked their way past his lips?
Sylus fucked you like the filthy girl you were being, teasing and riling him up like that, and much to your luck, it had worked. He knew. Of course he knew. This man was always in control, and you would be lying if you claimed you did not love it.
“Sylus…” You repeated his name over and over again against his mouth as if it were a prayer that would bring you salvation. It would. Oh, it would…for with every single thrust, you felt yourself creeping closer and closer to an annihilating abyss of pleasure. If you hadn’t been pressed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his hips, your knees would long have given in.
“I’m…I’m gonna come…” you whispered out of breath.
Sylus released your neck, the wound pulsing with a dull pain as he licked over it with relish and then released your mouth to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. His strokes grew more frantic, more eager. And it drove you straight over the edge.
You came with a grunt, moaning into his mouth. Pleasure rippled through you as you squeezed around his cock repeatedly, triggering his own release.
Sylus’s heavy breathing turned into a carnal groan as he came, his length jerking against your slick walls gripping him tightly. He slumped against you once he came down from his high, cradling you in his arms.
“Sylus…”
“Yes, kitten?”
“Take me home?” There was no way you were going to return to the dance floor. Not after this. Oh god…
He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
#sylus imagine#sylus x you#sylus x reader#sylus smut#sylus x mc#sylus#sylus lads#sylus lads imagine#sylus lads x you#sylus lads x reader#sylus lads smut#love and deepspace#love and deepspace imagine#lads imagine#lads
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー2024> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT
STICKY HONEYMOON 🍼 SABO X F! READER KINKTOBER DAY 9: CREAMPIE
🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Hey! 🎀 May I request Sabo(OP) x female reader for the 9th day, please? I'm not sure if I can ask for this, but let it be in the style of Fluff with a bit of spice, just like our blond. Thank you and wishing you inspiration! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. as requested it is fluffy and smutty 💕 a couple of newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon with loads of sex. cream pie. masturbation. and so much lovemaking. 🐙 wc: 1,1 k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist
Arms like snakes all around your body. Sabo’s golden locks grazing your nape, his nose buried on your spine. Warm breath wetting the space in between your shoulder blades. His fiery hands hanging on your belly, hardness against your ass…
“Nmhg…” Sabo mutters, as he inhales the scent of your skin. It is late, very late. Night has fallen some hours ago, with bodies sore from the day… you’ve chosen your honeymoon to be an adventurous one.
“Mh? What is it, babe?” you ask, lifting your ass a little bit more so that you can feel his erection growing bigger against you. Being the little spoon with your now husband, is all you want for the night.
Sabo knows, exactly, what you are doing. And excitement, lust and need turns a little flame into a big fire…
“I love you…” he murmurs, planting a peck on your shoulder. His hips begin to move; it feels as if he was dry humping on against your buttocks. “I still can’t believe you have finally become my wife…”
You smile against the pillow, a beam so big can’t even fit your face. Sabo can be this and even more romantic when it comes to you.
“I love you too, my sweet husband…” you whisper back, passing your hand to the back, caressing his hip side with a loving sexy graze. Such graze, then, turns into your nails clawing into his milky skin… and that, to him, it only means one simple thing; go ahead Sabo-kun, fuck me!
Needless to say, both lay naked on silky sheets. Already sweat imbued fabric, as it’s been putting up with nights of hot love making sessions. And tonight, it won’t be the exception.
“What you want, mh? You want me deep inside you again?” Sabo asks, whispering right into your ear, biting your lobe right after.
You giggle, once again your nails carve marks on his flesh. Pulling him even closer to your ass, you can even feel how his hard sex slides in between your cheeks.
“Deep, yes. Very deep, babe… plus, this time, I want you to fill me up with your cum” you request; the intimacy of your relationship has stripped you from any shame whatsoever.
Sabo grunts, there is only so much a man can take. He can be strong, but those words are simply a detrimental move you have just made.
His right hand slides down your waist up to your lower belly and then to your sex. His fingers wander through your anatomy, separating your folds just enough to reach your clit. Sabo finds those lands as expected; wet, more than dampened. He gloats, he knows his dick will slide so deliciously in and out, and the sound of every ram will be music to his ears.
He begins tracing circles on your pleasure button, as his free hand reaches for your left breast. Erect, hard, sensitive, that’s how he finds it everything he touches on your body.
You react to his pinching and massaging, whimpering low, jolting every time he stimulates it all at the same time. His sex, as well, hasn’t been left out of this intercourse prelude; it, by itself and powered by increasing hardness and throbbing pulses, moves in the search of your entrances. Coated by your honeys, that have already wet the inner side of your thighs, and mixing with his own precum, finds enough lubrication to finally meet with your fleshy folds.
“Fuck me, please…” his masturbation can be perfect, but the heat growing stronger inside you and walls that ache to be stretched get the best of you. “Fuck me, Sabo… I want you so deep inside of me…”
You didn’t need to ask, and still Sabo enjoys such pleading like a trophy, like a medal. Ego bursting; ego and shaft exploding.
“Are you sure you want me inside you, my sweet wife?” he asks, enjoying a little bit more how your hips move on their own, desperate to feel him pumping into you.
“Dear husband, if you don’t fuck me right now…” you playfully -and perhaps even a little cranky- threaten him.
The blond revolutionary laughs sweetly; there is nothing more he could ever want now than to fuck you as you ask. And so, he does…
On its own, with a simple forth hip movement, his sex finally penetrates you. It takes him no effort, as it seems your body has been made for his, and his has been made for yours. Truly soul, mind and flesh mates.
He hugs your waist from behind, ramming into you so deeply and violently, exactly as you like it.
The back of your head fall on his shoulder, reaching with your mouth his. Million kisses that deepen the more the in and out rhythm increases. It lets the commissure of your lips shiny, erratic tongues sometimes can’t be precise, and the need for oxygen also makes it even more messy.
And just as predicted, your juices both mix and let him move so perfectly in sync with you, and the sound of the slapping skins play a sinful ambrosial melody. But it is what abandons your lips from time to time what makes it even magical; whispered, breath, inhaled “I love yous” fill the room, the love nest you both chose to consummate your marriage.
Your milking walls, your spasming muscles, your moans and whines…
“Don’t stop… don’t… stop… I’m close, please-” “ngh… not… stopping….”
Your pleads. His grunts. The scent of sex...
“Were… you- for real? Inside?” “Fill me the fuck up Sabo, I beg you please… I am… about to… fuck…”
Sabo takes a deep breath; he needs to get ready; he is about to burst and your core to be flooded with his relief. Sabo is desperate, your climax keeps milking him with no mercy, it feels like you are going to drown his cum from him and he can’t stop it…
“Take it all inside babe… I want to make you so fucking full” he grunts, giving the final thrust to reach for the deepest possible spot.
You can’t even talk, you are just still orgasming, still trembling, savouring the incipient pulses of Sabo’s climax. His belly becomes hard, his arms lock you against his dick; there is no scape now, you are trapped there to be overfilled with his seed.
Seed so hot it feels like a burning fire taking over your womb, getting to every little corner of your anatomy, going in with pressure as Sabo pushes your lower belly down… oh, Sabo-kun… it feels like fire, it fills so good.
“I love you, my sweet husband… thank you for the treat” “We are just starting, babe… you are still not even remotely full of it”
Taglist of amazing babes: @kwnblack @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @votaeto @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓
#kinktober 2024#kinktober#kinktober 24#sabo op#chief of staff sabo#op sabo#one piece sabo#sabo#asl brothers#sabo the revolutionary#sabo x you#sabo x reader#sabo headers#sabo one piece#sabo imagine#revolutionary sabo#one piece fanfiction#one piece x you#one piece x oc#one piece x y/n#one piece x reader#one piece#sashi ya
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Omgg the dimension in the stcmo au where Stanley destroys his own dimension with Stanford and the dead twins in it is fkn killing me 😭 He was fully ready to die with the world, seeing that his world (the kids) had already ended anyway :(
How do you think Stanley died in the other dimension, where Stanford and the twins survived but he didn't? I also really wanna know what their reactions were to meeting each other again or if their memories were altered or not!
I love this AU to death and beyond, please never die 😔🙏
Honestly, the possibilities are endless in terms of how exactly Stan goes out (destroying Bill in the process).
And as for the relocated Stan...
Stan hit the ground and, for the first time in his life, he just stayed down. That tiny voice in the back of his head that had kept him going all these years had finally fallen silent, leaving him to drown in his overwhelming despair. He didn’t care to pick himself back up again. There was no point.
His kids were gone. Snuffed out before they could even live their lives. His brother, who he had just brought home, killed with the press of a button. He was pathetically thankful that he hadn’t been the one to activate the doomsday device, he didn’t think he could’ve lived with himself knowing that he had killed his big brother with his own hand.
Not that he had been planning to survive the explosion, which was another matter that he was just too worn down to address. Honestly, he didn’t really give a shit about the mystery man or his intentions. Even so, he should be furious that the mystery man kept him from joining his family, but he was hollowed out by the realization that he was the only one left.
Why was he always the last man standing?
He couldn’t bear to go another day without Mabel’s smile. The girl had bullied her way into his heart and carved out a space for herself, bringing enough love for the both of them with her. His sweet girl who loved glitter a little too much and drew trouble to her like a magnet, the girl who saw a sad old fuck and reminded him that life was worth living with every joke, every kind word, every laugh, every hug.
How could he possibly face another day without Dipper’s laugh? The boy had snuck into his heart not long after his sister had gotten comfortable, settling down like he had simply always been there. His brave boy who reminded Stan so much of his brother and himself, a strange amalgamation of both of them. Their best qualities put into one body.
Had he told them that he loved them? Even once? Had he ever uttered those words to his kids?
Did they die unsure of how much they meant to him? Did they die doubting that Stan loved them more than anything in the entire universe? Did they die quick or slow? Did they die scared, wanting their Grunkle to protect them from a cosmic bully? Did they die wishing that they’d never met him? Did they die cursing that they ever came to Gravity Falls–
His kids had to know that Stan would’ve given anything, struck any deal, endured any torment, killed anyone he had to so long as it meant that they got to be happy.
Stan didn't even realize he was crying until he pressed his forehead against the ground, shocked back into his own body by the soft rasp of greenery against his face. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs, hands fisted into the grass as he wailed his grief into the soil.
Grief for not telling Soos that he was like a son to him. Grief for not thanking Wendy for putting up with his shit. Grief for not telling Dipper that he was proud of him. Grief for not putting Mabel’s insecurities to rest before they could fester. Grief for waiting for a fucking ‘thank you’ instead of just hugging his damn brother like he had longed to do for the past forty years. Grief for not spending more time with all of them while he could.
As Stan’s pathetic tears finally dried up, a sound was carried on the breeze, every muscle in his body locking up as he raised his head. His brain stalled like an old engine, wide eyes staring off into the thick foliage. He was half convinced that his mind had finally fractured and he was hallucinating even as his body moved, scrambling to his feet to race through the forest.
Even if it was just a cruel trick of his mind, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not when it was his kids. And certainly not when his kids were crying. In no world could he ignore the sound of the niblings' distress. If they needed him, he’d be there. Easy as that. He would sooner light himself on fire than let them think that they couldn’t come to him with their problems, his discomfort with feelings and emotions could fuck right off.
As he got closer to the origin of the sound, he could actually make out words. His heart stuttered in his chest as he pushed himself faster and faster still because they were calling for him. They were wailing his name like two scared little kids lost in a big world that was too cruel for the likes of them. So, he answered their desperate call, just like he always would.
“Kids!”
Stan charged through the brush, erupting into a small clearing with three people standing in it. The first figure he recognized immediately as his brother, whose arm was raised to aim a triangular gun at Stan’s chest. The niblings were hidden behind him, clutching the fabric of his slacks as they peeked at Stan with huge wet eyes. Stan stumbled to a stop, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
Surprisingly, no one in the clearing broke the silence, a voice ringing out from a sturdy branch in a nearby tree.
“It’s not a trick, Stanford.” A heavily modulated voice spoke as a dude in flashy getup stared down at them from his perch. In the blink of an eye, another gun was drawn from Ford’s trench coat, pointed at the man that Stan had been manhandled by earlier. His face was set with grim determination, but there was a telling shake to the hand that aimed the gun at Stan.
“You better start talkin’ or I’ll come up there n’ beat some answers outta you.” Stan demanded, sparing a glare for the stranger. He must’ve followed Stan here, which meant that he had also seen Stan blubbering like a pansy earlier. Great.
“The Stan of dimension F9-2 took his own life to defeat Bill, leaving your dimension without a Stanley Pines. Stan from dimension C40”0 was the only one to survive Weirdmageddon, his world destroyed by his brother’s last-ditch effort to kill Bill, leaving him without his family.” The stranger explained, gesturing to each brother in turn as he addressed them.
“So, you… brought him here?” Mabel tentatively piped in with a sniffle, poking her head out more, and Stan had to swallow the urge to tell her to keep out of sight. Now that he was getting a good look at the trio, he was noticing the differences, like how Ford was wearing the same suit that Stan himself currently had on, except it was far less tattered.
“I did.” The stranger confirmed with a slow nod and the niblings shared a look, communicating with just their eyes. Stan remembered when he used to do that with Ford, way back when their only worry was if they could get one last game of pirates in before they were called home for dinner. Stan hadn’t been that close to Ford since middle school, back before a yawning chasm of distance opened between them.
“Who are you?” Ford growled, his eyes narrowed as he shifted most of his attention to the stranger, who tilted his head in a predatory manner that made the hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. Stan let his arms slowly drop down to his sides since the gun that had been aimed at him had been lowered slightly, Ford clearly prioritizing the bigger threat.
“A concerned third party.” The stranger said, not missing a beat before he shifted his weight to fall backward. He disappeared in the blink of an eye only to reappear right behind Stan, who squawked in alarm and outrage as one hand seized the back of his neck while the other pointed a weird gun behind them to open another colorful gateway. Stan threw an elbow back at the stranger, who caught it with practiced ease after swiftly holstering the gun.
“But if you’re unwilling to house him in your dimension–” The stranger began, before being unceremoniously interrupted by two small bodies darting out from the safety that Ford's body provided and throwing themselves at Stan.
“No! You can’t have Grunkle Stan! Please don’t take him away!” Mabel wailed with no small amount of terror, her tiny arms struggling to fit around Stan’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Dipper was no better, quite literally sitting on Stan’s shoe in order to cling to his right leg with all four of his limbs while he begged the stranger to let Stan stay with them.
“Hey, hey… I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Stan soothed, voice lowered to a low rasp as he abandoned his effort to get the bastard behind him to let go in favor of getting a hand on each of the kids. One of his hands went to Dipper’s head while the other pressed against Mabel’s hitching back, the two pressing into the contact like they were starving for it. Stan turned his head just enough to level the visor of the stranger’s helmet with a dark look, daring him to disagree. “Right, pal?”
“Depends on him.” The stranger retorted, pointedly nodding at Ford, who had taken to aiming the gun directly at the stranger’s helmet. Thankfully, the portal had closed on its own, shrinking out of existence, and as a result, Ford’s posture had visibly lost some tension. Stan figured that it was because the kids had been in danger of going through with him had the stranger followed through with his threat.
“My brother stays.” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, something bordering on manic in his eyes. Stan noticed that Ford’s hand wasn’t shaking this time, his aim perfectly steady. Stan wasn’t sure why this stood out to him until he recalled that Ford’s hand had been trembling earlier when he had the gun pointed at Stan, which was far more shocking than it should’ve been.
“If you ever hurt Stan… I’ll be back and you will never see him again.” The stranger warned, drawing the weird sci-fi gun in a dark blur and firing it off to the side, smoothly stepping into the swirl of colors before both the stranger and the portal were gone. Stan stood there dumbly, staring at the empty space where the portal used to be until his attention was redirected to the warm body that crashed into him.
Stan yelped as he went down in a heap of flailing limbs, instinctively struggling as strong arms wound around his body. However, Stan froze when he heard a choked sob, blankly staring up at the cloudless blue sky in utter disbelief as Ford broke down in tears. Ford’s face was buried in the crook of Stan’s neck, his glasses digging into skin, but Stan didn’t care because he was clinging to him and the kids just as tightly.
And if his eyes were wet and his cheeks damp, it was just allergies.
#gravity falls#side quest#somebody to call my own au#mini series#so far from home au#ford pines#stan pines#mabel pines#dipper pines#stan and ford#stan twins#pines twins#pines family#ask box
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Like An Angel | Eris x Reader
summary: Eris is dancing on the edge of despair when he finds you. The one person who reignites the flickering flame within him, breathing life back into his weary soul.
warnings: angst, slight mentions of abuse/burn marks
a/n: this is purely inspired by Kali Uchis's song Igual Que un Angel. I've been listening to it all day on repeat, it's sooo good! Eris came to mind when I thought of which ACOTAR male to pair to this song and I have been wanting to write something for him for awhile now 🥰
Eris slumps into an intricately carved chair, sore and bruised body sinking into the softness of the cushions. He hastily undoes the top buttons of his white dress shirt, wincing as he catches a glimpse of the maimed skin below. Exhaustion tears through his mind, body and soul. He tilts his head back, a silent effort to contain the tears that sting at the corners of his eyes, despite being in the privacy of his room. He refuses to let those tears cascade down his cheeks. He refuses to let his father’s cruelty win.
Sensing the weight of his pain, the oldest and leader of his hound pack slowly approaches, emitting a soft, empathetic whine. Ember, her dark fur tinged with the wisdom of seasons, brushes against his trembling hand. The remaining hounds, still and watchful on their plush cushions in front of the fireplace, pivot their heads towards their master, their sharp eyes mirroring her concern.
A gentle lift graces the corner of Eris's lips as he strokes Ember's fur. He then eyes the other hounds and notices there is one missing. “Where’s Clover?” He quietly asks Ember.
As if answering his question, Ember nuzzles him once more before pacing toward the window. Intrigued by her behavior, Eris follows suit. He pulls back the heavy curtains and a panorama of gloom unfolds before him. The sky is laden with heavy gray clouds that hang low, concealing any glimpse of the sun. Raindrops compose a melancholic symphony, mirroring his inner turmoil, as they tap rhythmically against the window.
In the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard, he easily spots Clover–the youngest but fiercest of his hounds. She’s prancing around one of the court’s magnificent fountains, tail wagging happily behind her. Eris feels the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. It falters when his eyes catch the movement of another presence outside with Clover.
You.
You’re like a burst of sunshine on the gray canvas of the day– like an angel sent from above to shine light into the darkest corners of his soul, reigniting the flickering flame within. Your soft pink dress molds to your skin, yet you remain indifferent to the elements. As Eris marvels at your beauty, he thinks heaven must be your residence because not even the pouring rain can bring you down.
He blinks sharply, snapping out of his trance, as he hears the echo of Clover’s bark. His eyes widen when your laughter follows, and he watches as Clover chases after you. It's not the usual chase he sends his hounds for. This one is rare, playful, and Eris finds himself at a loss for words when Clover licks your arm and nuzzles against you. Such a tender gesture from one of his fiercest hounds. You must be the Cauldron’s favorite, he thinks as he feels a gentle stirring within him, awakening something deep in his chest.
**
Eris can’t bring himself to care for the way the cold rain stings at his fresh wounds nor the way his shirt and pants drenches immediately along with his hair. Clover’s ears twitch at the approaching footsteps but you don’t seem to hear them. You’re lost in your own world, eyes shut as you tilt your head up toward the sky and embrace the cool touch of rain against your burning skin.
Clover nudges at the hand at your side, alerting you of the new presence behind you, before happily darting toward Eris. He can sense the way his beloved hound holds back, as she must smell the injuries hidden beneath his clothes. She licks at his hand instead of jumping on him.
Eris wonders if he should wait to see how long it takes for you to finally notice him but he’s much too impatient for that. He clears his throat, and at the sound, you gasp, spinning around to meet his gaze. His amber eyes pierce through you, delving into the very depths of your soul, causing you to falter and instinctively step back.
A fleeting frown threatens to mar his features. He banishes it, concealing any vulnerability behind a stoic mask. "Who are you?" he questions, his voice sharp, the intensity of his gaze unwavering.
"y/n," you respond, blinking at him, your eyebrows furrowing at the abruptness of his tone. Your own voice carries a softer, much lighter tone and it’s as if the sky responds to your warmth, the rain slowing to a mild drizzle. Definitely the Cauldron’s favorite. "And who are you?"
Eris, with a taunting scoff, asserts himself as he takes a step forward. Closer to you. "You enter this court without knowing who I am? Has your mother neglected to teach you any manners?"
A downpour of regret engulfs him, more turbulent than the relentless rain from earlier, as he witnesses the glistening in your eyes and the subtle downturn of your lips into a frown.
“My mother is dead,” you say quietly, more to yourself than him, as you drop your gaze.
“I’m sorry,” his tone carries a genuine sincerity, and for a fleeting moment, his impassive mask wavers, the amber gaze softening. It invites you to meet his eyes once more. “I’m Eris.”
“Eris,” you repeat, eyes widening in recognition. There’s no hint of anger or guilt in your eyes at his earlier harsh demeanor. He finds a rare softness instead, the corner of your eyes crinkling as your lips form a small, welcoming smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eris.”
There’s a gentle fluttering, akin to the delicate wings of butterflies, awakening in the pit of his stomach because now that he’s up close and the rain has stopped, he can appreciate the depths of your beauty as you smile at him.
Clover nudges at Eris’s waist, eliciting a wince from the male. Your gaze swiftly descends, settling on his exposed chest, where a glimpse of red and irritated skin meets your eyes.
"Are you hurt?" you ask, and Eris is unexpectedly comforted by the genuine concern etched across your face over him. Someone you just met.
Engrossed in observing every little subtle shift in your expression, Eris fails to notice the hand you extend toward him. Delicate fingers graze against his skin, tender and cautious to avoid causing further harm and his breath catches in his throat. He’s almost certain you can feel the rapid heartbeat beneath.
“y/n! I’ve been searching everywhere for you! What are you doing out here? Are you mad? You’re going to catch a bloody cold and–” Sawyer, one of Eris’s younger brothers, voice wavers, prompting you to take a couple of steps back and put as much distance between you and Eris.
“Brother,” The younger Vanserra greets Eris as glances between you two. With his hands behind his back and shoulders held high, he approaches Eris. Fear flashes in his eye and he comes to an abrupt stop when Clover lets out a deep menacing growl, baring her sharp teeth at him. A striking contrast to the way she regarded you.
“I see you’ve met my future bride.” Sawyer steps closer to you instead, lips curling up into a smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, forcing you closer to him. Eris doesn’t miss the way your body tenses at the possessive gesture.
Future bride. As the words sink in, Eris feels a rage of distaste simmering beneath his skin. No.
“Your father and mine are asking for you.” Sawyer says to you, brown eyes taking in your drenched form. His nose crinkles in disgust. “Gods, you’re a mess. Let’s hurry and get you changed. My father does not take lightly to those who make him wait. ”
Sawyer doesn’t bother to spare his brother a glance as he pulls you along with him, missing the way Eris fists clench at his sides. Even Clover’s gaze darkens, not liking the way Sawyer speaks to you in a condescending manner.
Eris hears you reply quietly as you struggle to keep up with Sawyer’s longer strides and the burn marks marring his skin are nothing compared to the burning ache set alight in his chest. Clover nudges his hand, sensing his distress the same way Ember had earlier.
“Heaven must’ve sent you, love,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of longing, as he recognizes the magnetic pull, akin to a golden thread, in his chest the further you walk away from him.
It’s as if you feel that pull too. You’re turning back to steal one more glance at him and in that moment, a myriad of emotions floods your wide eyes. Yet, there’s a purity that remains in the depth of your eyes, mirroring the innocence of heavenly beings and bringing life back into his weary soul. If only you had a halo and wings, the image would be complete…
Eris was aware of Sawyer’s upcoming arranged marriage but he never fathomed for someone as sweet as you to be his bride. People like you are a rarity, the subject of fervent prayers. A heart like yours is precious and on the verge of extinction in a brutal world like this.
You’re pure light, a beacon of goodness. One that the Cauldron favors but how cruel, he thinks, that the Cauldron does not favor him. It’s a bittersweet dance of fate because though you are close to him, you remain just beyond his grasp…promised to another.
a/n: if you'd like to read more about soft reader x Eris, you can find the masterlist for it here (:
#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris acotar#eris x y/n#eris x you#eris vanserra x reader#eris vandaddy#eris imagine#eris fluff#eris angst#acotar x reader#acotar imagine
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Turning Point - Part 8 (Final)
Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability. Sylus myth mentions.
Word Count: 5610
Written: 17th January 2025
Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This was rough... Truly romance is hell for me to write (don't ask why an otome game is the only game I write fic for, it's a mystery). I hope you enjoy, final chapter of Turning Point. Thank you for reading ❤️
Now Playing: I Adore You, By HUGEL
Masterlist AO3
<- Previous
Sylus has spent a lot of his life alone.
It's an indisputable fact of who he has been, and who he continues to be.
A monster, a warlord and a criminal.
There was one fragment of time when he was surrounded by those that loved him, and then they were taken from him.
The dreams of cutting through thick scales, of tearing parts of himself off, throwing them across the cave floor, shivering in the corner. He begs and pleads with gods that don't listen, to fix him. To make him better. To make him worthy.
Good.
Instead he is punished, and reminded of why he is a beast. A failure. A creature to despise.
His hands useless when faced with the blood splattered members of his family. The once warm home turned to a desolate cave, full of nothing but remains.
Home is deeply embedded in a soul, the parts of himself that he wishes he could erase, will never leave him. He is a beast that has little value, outside of what he can provide. Be it a scapegoat, or sating greed.
Throughout his life, he has abandoned being seen as anything other than a monster. That even you, with eyes full of hatred and hurt, had seen him that way. Fury curling your lip, and snarl in your throat. Lunging for him with the knife in your hand.
He has been alone for such a long time, he has forgotten how to be around others. Luke and Kieran are the sole exception. They are unbothered by his harsh tone, finding him more amusing than terrifying. It should not surprise him that EVER are as capable of breaking a mind, as the Justiciers were. They may as well be cut from the same disgusting cloth. He sometimes wonders if they are.
So when he snarks, or bites, or teases, they respond with laughter and response. He has adapted to their countenance. Understands that they will mirror what he offers back.
You… sometimes you respond in kind, biting and scratching, little crooked smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye. Other times, you ache. Look at him like his words have cut somewhere he can't reach to heal. That is when he eases, remembers a field of flowers and the ways he wanted to be before the world decided to destroy dream and hope.
He thinks he is learning to be around you, how to hold you without hurting, and how to soothe your heart with his words and actions. How to be who he wants to be… a fragment of the man left over from the moment he truly thought you could be together after you shared your souls.
With poetry and music, he has carved out a place as himself, so that he can share it with you. In a world where he gets more time, and more space, to share and offer what he is to you. Regardless of what the world says about him, he has only ever cared what you say about him.
He is learning to believe the words you offer him, as who he truly is.
You may not remember, but he always will.
He is, however, still adjusting to the others. He has no basis for adjusting to others, it has been too long since he was in a home that was warm. He has approached them similarly to Luke and Kieran, and while their responses rumble his chest. Fill him with amusement at the discovery of something new, he is aware that they are not as unbothered.
The doctor will ignore him if he teases, until his buttons are pressed enough that he will get a furrow between his brow and speak to Sylus in a voice that is deep and close to a growl. He finds the push entertaining, because breaking people who are so upstanding is a sick satisfaction of sorts.
There are, however, moments when he returns with a wound, and the doctor tends to it. Your hands aren't as steady yet to handle a needle and thread when his EVOL cannot help repair him. The shackles around his power too sturdy, too hindering, and he cannot keep pulling your resonance to him until you feel stronger. Wary of pushing you too far, or making you feel as though that is all he wants. As the doctor watches over him, carefully mending his skin, he wonders at the concern in the man's eyes. Teases him for it.
To worry for a criminal. Not many would.
It receives a huff and eyeroll, and a slight pressure in his wound as the needle pushes through skin, "What you are doesn't matter, who you are does."
Sylus finds himself thinking about it, he knows the doctor is a moral man. His files affirmed that much, observations to understand your life. To blend in better… to be part of it.
It still feels odd for the doctor to help tend to his wounds. Like he doesn't deserve it.
He finds the fish the most fun to tease, to argue with, no fire in his words as the fish gets more agitated with him. He reminds him of you, feline-like and prone to swishing his tail and baring fangs. You are jovial with yours ever since he has gained access to your life with affection. The fish it depends, on his mood, on his health, on the day of the week. Some days he enjoys the clash, Sylus notes, finding the chance to bite and growl fun, other days it is accompanied by genuine frustration. Evening out as the months have gone on, settling down to be less angry.
The more they argue, the more Sylus sees the entertainment in his eyes, even though the fish denies it. There are times when he sees the man painting, stepping over to watch the paint to canvas. Sometimes the fish will ask if he's looking for anything in particular.
"I'm trying to understand." He answers honestly sometimes.
He would be ashamed at the widening of the fish's eyes, but then he shrugs, and speaks as he paints, "Everyone sees something different in my work, some see nothing at all. I see something that others may not. Doesn't matter what you see, as long as it's what you see."
So Sylus stands, and watches him paint, and thinks. The fish makes no other comments, but moves to the side a little, so that he can see better. So he can study easier. Sylus thinks he sees the sunrise over daturas, another day coming, this one with more hope than the last.
He later goes to buy one of the fish's paintings. To think about more.
The prince is more complicated, he is quiet and he sleeps often. Sylus is unsure if he's sick, or simply prefers the land of dreams to reality. If he had been asked many years ago, he would have agreed. Dreams had been the only time he had kissed you, afterall.
He teases the prince, but receives little in response, except for the occasional cold look. The moments he understands the man most are when Xavier is helping you. He notes the way he lights up, and takes account of the differences. It is in small actions, often that you may not notice, but Sylus does.
He, along with the doctor, ensure Xavier's pillow is clean, that he has food when he returns from missions, that he isn't eating junk food every day.
That when he returns, there is something warmer waiting for him.
Sylus thinks if it were him, that is what he would want, after long days working.
This process, of understanding, of learning, unsettles him to begin with. That he is changing, not just for you, but for others. He enjoys feeding you and your heart, and he begins to look forward to reactions to his food from the others. It is a strange feeling to sit down at a table with others, to share food.
It is… pleasant. The voice that sounds like yours speaks in his mind. Like your busy soul in his chest. Singing and dancing everytime he teases the fish, or chuckles at the doctor's dry wit, or realigns the blanket on the prince's shoulder.
He enjoys his days more, the more you grow and become yourself. No longer as restricted into yourself. No longer aching as dearly. He sees when the days are harder, but you are brighter. He knows that being able to hunt again, likely buoyed you beyond anything else. Still, he is relieved to have a hand in helping you climb the cliff out of the abyss.
Sylus was honest, when he told the others that he had no intention of leaving. That no matter what your heart spoke to you, his path would always lead him to you. That he would keep hold of your hand as long as you wanted it. No matter what form it took. That he was not simply there for your heart but every part of you, that no matter the snapping fangs of fate, you are his destiny.
He has spent too long without you, he is not about to lose you now that he has you again.
While he has long known himself to be greedy, craving your presence, what contact he can receive, every laugh from your lips, every look in your eyes that tells him more than your mouth has managed to… He has found himself craving more.
The warmth around a table he has never known.
The return to a home that is not empty, or full of skeletons.
A place that does not tell him he is a monster.
Perhaps it is the blood on the fish's hands, and the blood on the prince's, that he knows he is not a beast to them.
It is the lack of judgement in the doctor's eyes, that he still matters despite what he has been created to be, forced into being.
Every choice he has made, every path he has taken, he has never expected to find those who do not look at him and see what he is told he is.
You bring change to his life, no matter the time. Opening up worlds he cannot hope to understand in just a moment. He needs many moments, all of them. So he is greedy, he does desire, and he knows those feelings will never fade away from his soul. That hungers and needs and demands.
Seeking the warmth of this space for as long as he can, not leaving its embrace without good cause, just like he does not leave yours easily, when it is offered to him.
Sylus can only hope you will see his heart as well, and accept it once more.
He is, however, struggling with the fact that his kitten has decided to become jumpy once more. Skittering out of his grasp, fleeing at the first moment.
The recent weeks you had sat in thought, mumbling to yourself, keeping them at arm's length. He has seen you leave with Tara and Simone, and he has waited for you to come to him.
To explain the startled look that you give when he sneaks up on you. To finally stop running away from him.
He believes that he is growing accustomed to you, that he knows now when you run from him to hide in an alley, to lick wounds that you're too scared to show, when he would happily dress them for you. To when you are simply thinking, and processing, and trying to find the space to work out how to approach.
He did not lie when he said he did not wish to pry, despite his impatience, and his need to know everything there is to know about you. He does not want to pull it out with his EVOL or against your will. You will speak to him when you are ready.
Sylus does find the skittish nature somewhat adorable, but the fact that he has not been able to hold you, touch you for any long period of time, or share a bed with you as you slept and he watched over, is bothersome. He misses watching you lower your guard, and he does not want to go back to when you daren't even touch him casually with a tease.
So he uses the morning to try to… corner you. He will not pry into your mind, but he will seek out the touch of your hand. Place it against his chest, and let you feel your joined hearts beat a song against his ribcage.
Instead, however, as he approaches you before you leave, intending to go out with Tara, yet again, he is called by the twins. Demanding his time, a report that cannot wait. Time he cannot waste, because he needs to see to Onychinus.
As much as he wishes to tell them to handle it, he has not heard them sound so frantic and serious in a long time. While he has little desire to leave, he is not willing to abandon them or his organisation, when he needs both.
Sylus catches your hand before you pull away, tugging you into his arms and crowding you against the door.
"Sy?" Your voice shakes, soft against his ears, as beautiful as always.
He leans down, long fingers tilting your face up so that he can look at you. Mismatched eyes wide, and trembling with something. Something he wants, something he yearns for, something he desires desperately. Waiting for the moment you speak it into existence.
"Have a good day, kitten. Miss me." His lips brush against your temple, and he inhales against your hair, before leaving you.
Not before he feels the twitch to your fingers, and the tightening of your grip…
And the soft, pleased exhale against his skin.
—-----------
You have spent two hours setting up. Two hours spent scurrying around, cooking, decorating, arranging.
Tara has run in to grab supplies for you as well, eager and excited. You're sure it's so she can hear every single detail when you're done, but you're thankful. You can leave the house alone, but it is always to meet someone. Being alone in a supermarket fills you with dread, least of all because of your arm.
She doesn't question, and she helps. When she finishes lining the things up you forgot, she offers further help which you reject.
You have to do this, you have to make this worth it. They have raised you up off the ground, caught you when you slipped. You have to return it.
You know they would not ask, would not want you to see it as something to return, but you have to make them see.
When you have struggled, or been tired, or worn down, they have offered food, or gifts, or presence. If that is how they show you that they care, you will return it.
You can only hope you return it in the way you hope.
There are some half deflated balloons that you failed to breathe enough air into, your lungs aching before you could even get through one. You are not as dextrous with your metal hand, so when you cut ingredients they are uneven. You fight to swallow the irritation and the pain in your chest. Even though the need to cry burns at them at things you cannot quite get right.
That it has to be perfect. You have to be perfect. Even if you never were, and even if you never can be. At least for this, you want to be…
There's a voice in your head, cold as the chain around your ankle, that reminds you you're incapable of perfection. That you are going to mess this up, and hurt yourself and others.
The knife trembles in your grip as your limb shakes.
It is a squawk that shakes you out of it, Mephisto flies over in a flurry of feathers and glowing red. To settle on your metal shoulder, talons steadying him. He has gotten familiar with perching there over time, since you stopped flinching at anyone touching your prosthetic.
It has become his favoured perch.
His feathers settle, and he bumps your cheek with his head, keeps red eyes on you as your hand settles.
He does not move, as you resume cutting, as you breathe through the feeling, edges closer to the heat of your neck with his body overtime. You think if a robot bird can sleep, he would do so settled there.
His presence helps, he reminds you of Sylus, but he also reminds you that you're not alone. That even the robot bird that Sylus denies is his pet, cares to see you keep going. It silences the beast at your ankle enough that you keep going.
You prepare meals that Caleb taught you how to cook, when he worried you wouldn't be able to survive alone during your studies, even though he never left you alone long enough to really go that long without food. Turning up at the apartment you shared with friends when he got chance, to hand you over a tupperware of food. To poke around the place and make sure you were alright. To lie on your bed and listen to you tell him about what you had been doing.
Even if you lied. That things were fine, that you were doing well. You knew he saw the truth, but you think he just liked the moment to listen to you talk. To see you in front of him. Alive.
You think you understand better now, how he felt. It always hurts to remember that it took losing him to realise.
Tara's words about regrets flit in and out of your mind. That there would be things you wished you'd done if you died tomorrow. As you cook, and you think about the last hour you have before the people you care about return, you know there's a few.
You're going to make an effort to tick them off.
—-----
He has been listening to the twins talk for two hours, and he cannot help but feel like this meeting should have been a call. Or a message.
The twins aren't stupid, despite their chaotic inclinations and their need to cause trouble wherever they can, they don't often bother him without need. Not concerning work. He trusts their capabilities for a reason. Despite their curiosity over if someone will ever claim his head.
He has been tempted to tell them that you are the one, but has decided when the day comes for you to cut his shackles, he would rather see the looks on the twins' faces.
No warning. He imagines it would be quite a sight. He hopes they're not wearing their masks when it happens.
Still, as he reads through his messages, he thinks he knows why they dragged him out here.
So he looks at them, watches as they chat. Luke waves his hands as he speaks, and there is something he notes. The two are trying to feed off each other's energy. Getting more animated as they go.
They are running out of fodder.
"You two-" They jump as his voice drops, looking at him through their crow masks, "are you going to explain why Kitten sent you to summon me away?"
"We don't work for the Hunter!"
"We work for you, boss."
"That's not an answer to my question."
"Why would we follow their orders-"
"-when we don't work for them?"
He says nothing, watches them, watches the way their shoulders pull in, and they gravitate towards each other. As if being closer will defend them from the glowing red eye in Sylus' head.
Before he even gets time to pry, they deflate. "Aww man, we didn't even manage three hours like they asked."
"We got close though bro. Two hours and twenty minutes with the boss, that's good going."
"Is it enough?"
"You two!" He raises a brow, and watches as they look at each other, then back at him.
"We were told to keep you away for three hours, so they could do something at home."
"Don't tell them we told you, they'll be disappointed…"
He's joked before that you have the two acting like your henchmen, and he's starting to realise it is not simply a joke. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposes. You have full control over Onychinus, every password, the location of every base, access to all of his weapons.
Full dominion over him.
Of course you've won over the twins.
"They won't be disappointed." Sylus sighs, "I'll stay for the last fourty minutes." It's a small concession, time wasted in favour of not ruining whatever you are doing. He could check with Mephisto but there is some warning in his chest. Over the heart he has shared with you, that asks him to wait.
That the waiting is worth it.
So he will wait for the three requested hours, and not a second longer.
It is a long wait, however, so while the twins chatter to him, they have abandoned mission reports and are now sharing information on games they want to play, or places they've been, he messages the other three.
The minutes go slower than expected, but finally he watches it pass, and stands.
"Have fun boss!"
"Good luck!"
He doesn't question them, he's almost curious what you told them to gain their help, but he thinks if it was any plan to be mischievous with him, they'd accept without any reason.
There is a kind of satisfaction in knowing he has the twisted loyalty of the two, they certainly don't work in any way his enemies would understand.
He also doesn't hate the fact they bring a smile to your face, or you to theirs.
When he finally returns to the apartment, he sees the other three sat outside, staring at the door. "You all look like loiterers. You're going to get reported. How will the good doctor cope with a criminal record?"
"How does one suit you?"
"Always a story to tell at parties."
The prince's head is resting on the fish's shoulder, he blinks a little, "You're late." Before he stretches and stands.
"Yeah crow, we've been waiting."
"Rafayel almost walked a hole into the floor going around in circles." Xavier adds.
"You almost broke the door down."
"Impatient." He yawns, shrugging as if it's not a problem. "Sylus can replace the door again, it's fine."
"Have you forgotten your fingerprints are registered?" Sylus asks, raising a brow.
"Quicker to break through the door."
He watches as the doctor rubs at the bridge of his nose, sighing so deeply he's surprised he doesn't fall under the weight of it, "You two act like such children sometimes."
"Not gonna share the macarons I bought with you then."
The doctor frowns, the furrow of his brow deepening, turning his face so he can hide some of the blush on his cheeks, "I'm alright with that."
"They're strawberry."
"I apologise."
"Too easy doctor."
"Can we go in now?" Rafayel stands, barely holding himself back from beginning to bounce on the heels of his feet.
"Alright fish."
Sylus watches as Rafayel opens the door. When it swings open, and they enter, the first thing he notices is bunting.
Hung from the ceiling, along the walls, in purples and blues. There are large red ribbons tied around chairs. Balloons half inflated on the floor in pink and green. A banner along the length of the dining table that has 'Thank you' drawn onto it in messy block letters, yellow stars decorated around it.
All four of them pause. The smell of fresh food, plates and bowls piled high on the table. And gift wrapped boxes, messily wrapped with some torn paper, next to each of their seats.
You are standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot to music, bouncing a little on the spot. Singing along with Mephisto whose squawks leave a lot to be desired in the music department.
He is sure that in this they are unified. Watching as you sing, and move, and twirl to grab something from the side. The feeling in his chest is molten and bright and warm, and if he ever loses it he knows he will have truly died.
"Kitten." Escapes him on an exhale as you smile that familiar crooked smile to yourself.
Your spatula clatters to the floor as you twirl to face him, and see all four of them. "Oh, I lost track of time, shit." You squat to clean up the mess in a panic, receiving a disgruntled cry from Mephisto as he flies off his favoured perch over to sit on the top of a dining chair.
"What is all of this?" The doctor asks, as Xavier rushes over to help you clean up.
You hesitate where you stand, toying with your fingers, before pointing over at the table, "I wanted to thank you."
"You don't have to thank us, cutie. Is this why you've been so jumpy?"
You close your eyes and he watches as you take in a long inhale, steadying yourself, and shivering a little, before you open them again. Flames burning in the depths of them, "No. I wanted to tell you something."
He wants to make a joke that you look like you're about to go to war, as you walk past them and indicate the table, to where there are gifts on the table, each with an initial scrawled on the paper. Yet there's a feeling like if he jokes, he's going to shatter something, and he hesitates before pushing it down, to follow as you lead.
He finds the one with an S, and lifts it up, it's a cube wrapped in black and red paper, with a small golden ribbon. He can tell you've torn the paper, struggling with the hand you still can't control for intricate work. You have given him one gift before, the handmade crow phone charm, one he knows matches the charms for the others. It's crooked and it's not perfect, but you made it. For him.
He has shot a man for almost breaking it during a fight.
His chest feels too hot, as a dragon he isn't sure he's ever felt such a thing before. He thinks if he had really kissed you that day so long ago, before it had all shattered, it would feel like this. It makes him feel sick, but he wants it to last forever.
"They're nothing big, it's. I wanted- You needed-" You sit then, slumping and covering your face to force their air in and out of your lungs, "Sorry. Please open them."
The paper comes away easy, and nestled inside with tissue paper is a red mug with a crow that looks suspiciously like that plushie you'd had him catch, and a key inside, with a series of charms. A crow, a star, a snowflake and a fish. He hesitates as he stares at it, hand careful. Like he could crush it easily if he tenses too hard.
Like it will shatter if he moves just a little.
Disappear if he blinks.
"Rafayel was right, when he told me that the password to your place can change easily, your key can't." You're looking down as you speak, and he can see you out of the corner of his eye, though he doesn't want to look away from his gift, "Well I could change the locks, I guess, but it's- That's not the point."
There's a wince before you tighten your hands into fists in front of you, the air is still and they watch. He can feel something and he's not sure what it is.
"You all made sure I could stand back up again, you were here for me when I needed you and wanted you. I wanted- needed you to know that I'll always want you here. That when you go back home, you're welcome anytime, that I-" Your voice keeps trembling, and pausing, and he wants to reach out, to hold you, to take your face in his hands, to cry with you he thinks, "I love you all so much. I needed you to know, before you went. Before this was over, and I had to say bye to this life."
"Cutie, do-"
"I love you. The- ah- the kind with- shit. I should have written this down."
He finally releases the keychain, approaches you as your hand trembles, eases his thumb over your skin, and watches as Xavier hooks his chin over your shoulder. Zayne and Rafayel crouch down to look up at you, a hand pressed to your knees. The contact eases the strain out of your body, but you must feel the small tremor in his, because you tighten your grip on him.
When you speak, you have found your ground, "I never settled down long enough to think about it, what you all are. I knew you were important, precious, but I didn't have a name for it, or wanted to think about it. I was sure if I didn't think about it, if I lost you it wouldn't hurt as much. If something happened to me, you'd be alright." He watches hands tighten against your skin, because he knows his own does, losing you is not an option, "I was wrong. Even though so many days have hurt, or felt like agony, you were home for me. Safe. You feel like love should feel. When I think about where I want to be, it's anywhere you are."
Your hand shakes as you reach out, to ease over Zayne's cheek with your fingers with your metal fingers. Flinching when he gasps at it, when he leans into your hand, taking it in his to press it further against his skin. "I don't know where to go from here, or what you all want. I know I'm asking a lot, and I understand if you don't feel the same way. I needed you to know, before you left, when I was ready. I don't want to keep looking back, I want to move forwards."
There is a shudder in your frame as you swallow, you take the time to look at them all, even though the angle Xavier at pulls at your neck, and Sylus feels that feeling he got when he used to fly, when you hold his gaze. Freedom, falling, soaring. Able to go anywhere, and do anything. When he held you and soared when you could not sleep, while he can't do that now, he can always take you on the back of his bike. Every sleepless night.
Forever.
"I love you."
It is measured, it is careful, and it is spoken on a tremble. Unused to vulnerability, wilfully shown. A wound on display, not hidden and kept under covers. No longer smothered under the bloody blanket, no longer trembling in the darkness.
He watches you look at him, tears streaming down your face with the weight of feelings he knows you struggle to process, and he was right.
You truly are beautiful when you cry and let him see.
"We're not going anywhere, darling." Zayne whispers against your hand, as he kisses against your palm. Cool lips against cool metal. You close your eyes at the feeling, shiver down your spine.
"You're home, starlight." Xavier nods, brushing lips against your cheek.
"Of course we love you cutie, forever, and always."
Sylus watches as Rafayel kisses your knee and squeezes your leg, watches more tears spill from your eyes, in what he knows is relief. Turns your hand so he can press his lips to your wrist, to your palm, to your fingertips, and sighs against your skin, "Thank you for telling us, beloved."
Thank you for loving him again. For embracing him once more.
For seeing him as more than a monster. For seeing a future that he has a part in.
For walking the path with him once more.
For accepting him as your home.
Later when Sylus has had his moment of breathing in the scent of you. Eased against the junction of your neck, hand tracing shapes into your hip. Whispering affection and murmurs of beloved against your skin.
When they have eaten, when mugs have been placed in the cupboard of your apartment, waiting for when they are needed. When he has stared at the key you have given him willingly. Offering him entrance whenever he wishes, trusting him in your territory. That he watches you sleep against the doctor's chest. Relieved and exhausted.
He knows there is more to do, conversations to have, things to fix, to arrange, but he feels like he is finally back at the starting line, prepared for the race ahead.
As he places your prosthetic back on its stand, and pulls a blanket over the prince who has rested his head in your lap, and cleans up some of the mess, so that the fish can paint the image in front of him, he leans down to place a kiss to your head.
Sylus thinks back to the empty cave, the blood splatter and the bones of the past. He thinks about loneliness and eternal exhaustion, of a search for something he worried he may never grasp again.
He is a boy again, standing in the cave, surrounded by family and loved ones, and this time, he has the power to protect it.
#zayne#zayne x reader#rafayel#rafayel x reader#xavier#xavier x reader#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace#lnds#lads#wonder writes#lads x reader#Zayne lads#rafayel lads#Xavier lads#Sylus lads#lads x mc#poly!lads#smau
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thinking about how after a night out with your friends, you couldn’t get Hanta out of your head. before you left, he looked so hungry.
“baby…” it was like he couldn’t decide which part of you was calling his name the loudest, his eyes were slowly shifting down each inch of your body, “looks like you’re on a mission to get free drinks tonight.”
The blush warmed your cheeks a little too quickly, just like the smile that you were trying to push down.
It’s been a little over two years since you’ve first gotten together, so when he looks at you like that… you know it gives you the slightest glimpse into later tonight. The thought has you shifting, clenching under his weighted gaze— something that doesn’t go unnoticed.
hanta pulls his lips in before his skilled tongue darts between them and licks his bottom lip, “or is this for me?…” he draws out, wandering gaze leading back up to your weakening stare.
“Is this for me to peel off when you’re done with the club?” he mumbles, stepping towards you; close enough to where his toned front is against your back, the curve of your ass slots perfectly against his stiffened cock. “when you come home after being ogled at by strangers nd all you wanna do is feel how full I can make you?” his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps all along your skin. His hands, spread and open-palmed, cupped the fat of your hips as he presses impossibly harder against you. “This is a little reminder for you that no matter how bad those lame asses want you, they could never fit the print of my dick carved into that pretty pussy.”
you were close to salivating, the temptation to stay home was weighing heavily on the scale of options— you did promise your friends that you’d go out… but you didn’t specify for how long…
A couple of hours. That’s how long you could take before all thoughts led to the yearning of feeling just how full your boyfriend could make you. The way his dick perfectly curves to hit the gummy spot that makes you feel like you’ve melted into a puddle of warm wax, the way his toned arms hug you close— skin on skin, hot and sensual. In your semi intoxicated state, you needed it now more than ever.
“Hanta…” you whine uncomfortably into the phone, fiddling with your keys while trying to balance the device between your cheek and your shoulder.
“what is it, baby? Are you home?” his voice comes through the phone like velvet, warm and inviting, enticing the human equivalent of a purr out of you.
“‘Mm home but the keys are being so mean…” you trail off as the keys jingle in opposition while you sift through them.
It took no more than 3 seconds for the door to swing open with a shirtless and disheveled Sero Hanta to greet you. He was back-lit, mullet extra shaggy, his broad chest rising and falling as if to even out his breath— not to forget the grey sweatpants that hung low to expose the dark happy trail that guided your eyesight from his belly button to the fulfilling print that was teasing you with every passing second.
You felt yourself salivate.
“those clothes need to come off-“ he nearly growled before cutting himself off to pull you in by the waist.
You could barley gasp, there was almost no time before his lips were on yours.
Animalistic was how it felt, everything went by so fast— your shoes were scattered somewhere, bag dropped and so were the keys. Hanta’s hands were everywhere, feeling everything, all the while, you were reminded how fit the man before you was with every passing second.
“Were you stroking my pretty cock while I was gone?” you moaned, attempting to sound like syrupy honey as you watched him haphazardly kick off his sweats.
“fu… your cock?” he looked back down at you, almost rabid with his pupils so dilated, only making the thump of your clit heavier.
taking a few steps back, his calves hit the back of one of the seats in the living room, prompting him to fall back onto the cushion.
“that’s my cock, just like this pretty pussy is yours.”
the look on his face was that akin to a worshiper seeing the deity he’s placed all his faith into— eyes wide and jaw slacked. he followed your movements as you slip out of the base of your fit, leaving you in only your top as you go to straddle his bare lap…
tagging: @nkogneatho
#sero hanta smut#sero hanta#sero x reader#sero bnha#mha sero#sero x you#hanta sero#bnha#mha#sero smut#autumnal’s writing 🍂 !#HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT THIS#WHERE I LEFT OFF IS WHERE YOURE SUPPOSED TO WATCH (or rewatch) THE VIDEO!!!!!!!!!!#IDK IM JUST TRYING SMTHN OUY
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party 4 u
gojo x f!reader 𓆩⟡𓆪 college au 𓆩⟡𓆪 wc: 1.3k notes: i rewrote this so many times before i decided to simplify it to what we have here with us today, i hope you enjoy! feedback is encouraged but please be nice!!
Gojo’s been up against the wall all night, the perfect spot to watch the door for you’re arrival. Geto leans next to him entertaining the small crowd that gathers around the two of them. Gojo blatantly ignores the smiling faces,
Then he sees you, leading your friend group into the house. He doesn’t wait a second, he digs into his pocket pulling out his chapstick. He applies it as he seems to carve space into the crowd making his way to you. Gojo doesn’t take his eyes off of you, that little black dress he got you and those black platforms that you loved, you were calling to him with the curls in your head and that lip combo he goes crazy over.
Gojo doesn’t hesitate. Once he’s close enough, he reaches out for your waist. You jump in surprise then settle nicely into his arms once you realizes who it is. He smiles at you, big and bright, looking down at you all hungry and wanting.
“Hey sweets, you look tasty,” then he kisses you deep and slow.
You wouldn’t admit the way you relax into his arms, or the quickness you kiss him back with, or how you pull him in for more. It was just, he’s such a great kisser and it had felt like forever since the last time you kissed him. You hope your friends forget the way you crumble after you insisted he’d have to beg for even a glance in his direction.
He pulls away leaving you a bit dazed, “let’s talk upstairs?”
Time slows for a second. You think of the car ride over and all the shit you talked but it was always different when he got in front of you. Gojo was a whirlwind, pulling you in or pushing you out, filling your mind with him.
You don’t even spare a glance to your friends before taking Gojo’s hand and following him upstairs.
You sit on his bed, his room surprisingly tidy like he knew he’d have company tonight. You wave your hand ushering for him to speak.
Gojo removes the stupid sunglasses he always had on indoors and his bright blue eyes shine in your direction. The eye contact is always jarring, his eyes typically hidden behind those round shades. He drops to his knees right in front of you. You click your teeth at the theatrics. He’s tugging your legs apart but you keep them firmly closed.
“Come on sweetheart,” he places a kiss to the top of your knee, “don’t be like that.”
You shake his touch off and he slouches in front of you like a kicked puppy. “Say something or I’m leaving.”
“Something.”
With an irritated sigh you stand up but Gojo latches to your torso quickly. ”I’m sorry, it was just, there.”
The impatient look on your face is loud and you don’t have to say anything else
“Baby please listen to me,” he pouts up at you from where his chin is digging into your belly button. “I’ve given you a week just like you asked! Did you get my email?”
“Yes and why did you send me an email?”
“Because you weren’t responding to my texts!”
You roll your eyes, flopping back onto the bed. Gojo had sent you a lengthy email towards the middle of the week. He was sorry for not understanding why you wanted him to unfollow all those girls on his SNS. Those were just all the people that wanted his number and got his account instead.
“I only follow them back if they’re attractive.” he heard himself after the fact but you were already over the conversation.
He put himself in your shoes. The idea of you following a bunch of guys, random or not, had made him so angry. At almost one in the morning he drafted that email and the next morning unfollowed everyone but friends on SNS.
“i unfollowed them,” his voice is saccharine. He lays his head on your knee looking up at you, “all of them.”
The email said the same thing and you had watched his following count drop in real time but you never replied. All for the satisfaction of this moment. Gojo on his knees begging for your forgiveness.
“None of them are as pretty as you, as beautiful as you, as interesting as you.” he places another kiss to your knee.
You let him ramble, “if you told me to jump off a cliff I would, if you told me to kill someone I would, I would do anything for you. You are my everything.”
He pulls your legs apart and this time you let him. Gojo places gentle kisses to your inner thigh, sorry eyes peering up at you. Heat pools in your stomach at his pitiful expression.
“I brought us something for when you started talking to me again," he continues with trying to appease you.
Not if but when.
Gojo doesn’t wait for you to ask what, “they’re matching undies. With I heart Gojo on the band, mine say your name.”
His big hands slide up your thighs and under your dress. His fingertips tease about your panties.
“I want you to wear them so I can pull them to the side and fuck you in them.”
Your breath catches in your chest. Gojo’s fingers dip into your underwear pulling them down before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. Your dress slides up and gives you a great view of Gojo leaning in closer to your core.
His breath ghosts over your cunt. “Do you forgive me baby?”
He presses his lips to your mound tongue darting out giving it a firm lick. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and pulling off. The rise and fall of your chest his heavy, pleasure zings through you. Gojo hums against your pussy, asking again for your answer, as he stiffens his tongue.
The sound of him lapping at you makes your head swim. This entire situation was overwhelming. From the sounds, to Gojo slurping you up like a man dying of thirst, to the fucking question. You begin to grind against his fact. He holds eye contact as you thread your fingers through his hair.
“Make me cum and I’ll forgive you.”
His eyes roll back into his head. White eyelashes brush his cheek as they flutter shut at the idea. Gojo rises to the challenge doubling his efforts. Your body trembles at his vigor. You let your body fall back onto the bed and he pulls you closer to him.
You gasp and writhe, toes curling, “Satoru!”
Drowning in pleasure you miss his right hand shoving its way into his pants.
Gojo’s favorite taste is you. His favorite flavor is your juices and he doesn’t want to waste a drop. He slurps and sucks loudly, dragging his tongue all across your fold. He’s determined to earn his forgiveness. He knows it’s coming with the way you’re twitching under him. Your moans rise in pitch getting louder.
“Fuck,” it’s strained, “ah! fuck!”
You breath through your orgasm, tingles prickling across your skin. Gojo goes a few seconds longer before pulling off. You finally notice the frantic movement of his arm.
“Do you forgive me baby? Fuck, did I do a good job?” His voice is whiny and his mouth drops open to pant, “Will you talk to me again sweets I miss you.”
“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, “you did such a good job Toru, I forgive you.”
Gojo lets out a long loud groan and he cums hard into his fist.
“Thank you,” he cries out, “I'm sorry! thank you!"
His head rests against you thigh as he catches his breath. He places a kiss to your inner thigh before climbing on top of you. Gently, he kisses you, and you kiss back with hunger.
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#fem reader#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo smut#satoru gojo
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Home Is Where I Want to Be (But I Guess I'm Already There)
Summary:
The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.
Read below or on AO3 (3.8k words)
The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.
Those first few giddy weeks and months (like bubbly champagne buzzing through his veins every time he saw Tommy’s smile, kissed Tommy’s full lips, found himself tangled in Tommy’s bed sheets) of staying over in his boyfriend's cozy, Venice bungalow have him living almost exclusively out of his trusty duffle bag. Which isn't a big deal. He's used to lugging that ratty thing back and forth from the firehouse to his apartment.
Can it be annoying sometimes? Sure. His clothes are constantly wrinkled (which majorly sucks when he's trying to dress to impress on date nights) and he's always forgetting or running out of one toiletry or another. If it’s not his deodorant then it’s his mouthwash. If it’s not his aftershave then it’s his moisturizer. Minor inconveniences, really, but worth it every time to wake up in Tommy's king-sized bed with Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him and Tommy's hot breath on the back of his neck.
It doesn't take long for that to change. Like a seed beginning to take root, Tommy, as he’s done since the very beginning, makes room for Buck in his life. Just as he opened his helicopter to Buck and his friends and flew them headfirst into a raging hurricane on nothing more than an outlandish hunch. The same way he took time out of his busy schedule to grant Buck a private tour of Harbor Station and answered all his jumbled questions as Buck nipped at his heels like an overeager golden retriever, tail wagging a mile a minute, wanting nothing more than to be closerclosercloser to the cool guy with a megawatt grin, who called him ‘Evan’ and had his heart skipping a beat even if he couldn’t identify the why of it all at the time.
So it’s not a surprise at all when he carves out precious space in his closet and lets Buck's colorful and patterned button-ups and polos blend in with Tommy's neutral henleys and shackets. They’re two big guys with a penchant for working out, so their wide array of tank tops, sweatpants, and basketball shorts become indistinguishable from each other. Their LAFD-issued shirts are so interwoven that they've given up trying to tell them apart and frequently go to work wearing the other's name branded on their backs, much to their coworkers’ loud and endless amusement.
Buck’s grapefruit shampoo and citrus body wash relocate to the shower niche alongside Tommy's own sandalwood and frankincense-scented products. On the vanity, Buck's red toothbrush is a companion to Tommy's green one.
All these minute modifications to Tommy’s home are simple and understandable ripple effects of Buck regularly spending a few nights a week there.
The offshoots of that single seed deepen into winding vines without Buck even noticing.
First, it's Buck's lucky set of boxing gloves hanging innocently alongside Tommy's Muay Thai gear in the garage. After a frustrating and tedious shift, he enjoys nothing more than a few vigorous rounds with Tommy’s punching bag. Then, Buck's large and varied assortment of books (ranging from biographies on famous figures such as Marie Curie to The Book of 10,000 Incredible Facts to the new YA fantasy series that is all the rage among Christopher and his friends) slowly but steadily find a home among Tommy's WWI & II aviation history collection on the shelves of the reclaimed redwood bookcase Tommy crafted by hand.
His favorite cast iron skillet and Instant Pot take up permanent residence in Tommy's kitchen, alongside his garlic press and waffle maker. His 'Buck Off' coffee mug (a gag gift from the 118) is always ready to go for lavender and daffodil-colored mornings spent on Tommy's front porch overlooking the canal as kayaks and paddle boards drift by in the early morning light. The sinfully soft, ocean blue afghan Carla knitted for him during the pandemic is draped over the back of Tommy's unfairly comfortable sectional. Christopher’s US History textbook is lying open on the coffee table, left behind after a pizza and study session. The newest season of The Bachelor (the combined forces of Maddie, Chimney, and Josh got him hooked. What can he say? He loves love.) is TiVoed on Tommy's flatscreen TV. His Jeep has its own designated spot next to Tommy's ’71 Bronco.
The roots of their budding relationship grow deeper and extend farther than the eye can see.
Buck's most cherished brand of coffee is readily available in the kitchen cabinets. His all-time favorite blend just so happens to be named The Beast. A fun fact that never fails to stop him from leering at Tommy and waggling his eyebrows every time he brews a cup. His favorite cereal is stocked in the cupboards and his favorite yogurt is in the fridge. The same fridge that is currently plastered with Jee-Yun's vibrant crayon drawings alongside pictures of Tommy’s nieces and nephews in Chicago. A true collage of sparkly princesses and menacing dragons beside Polaroids of beaming faces on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan and sitting in the stands of Wrigley Field with messy hotdogs and giant foam fingers.
Even food Tommy turns his perfect, aquiline nose up to but Buck loves (like quinoa and chirimoya) are now staples in his pantry. His most treasured cookbook, battered with stained, dog-eared pages with the margins filled in with his own corrections in his scratchy scrawl, holds a place of honor on Tommy's countertop on a wooden stand Tommy scrounged up at the local flea market.
He has to rack his brain to remember the last time he spent a night at the loft. The last time he had been there, to pick up some clothes from his rapidly depleting wardrobe, it had looked even emptier and barer than usual with hardly any food in the fridge, the bed sheets stale and unloved, and a thin layer of dust on his kitchen island. The industrial, modern space had felt cold and clinical and nothing like a living, breathing home.
It lacked the wooden floors Tommy had spent weeks refinishing as he lovingly sought out the perfect stain. It lacked the extra-long, extra-wide hammock hanging off Tommy’s back patio where Buck delighted in taking the occasional catnap on sunny afternoons. The loft hadn't inspired even a fraction of the warmth that Tommy's home did every time he walked through the door with the key Tommy had given him three months in, dangling from a helicopter keychain that made him grin like a dope whenever he pulled it free from his pocket.
Buck doesn't realize any of these very important and essential truths until one morning when he nearly trips over his running shoe that was lying discarded by the front door. At the sound of his clumsy stumble, Baron, Tommy's five-year-old Shepkita ("That's not a word, Evan. He's an Akita Shepherd.”), raises his head from where he's lounging on his overstuffed dog bed, exhausted from their early morning run at the beach.
At the sight of Buck being Buck, Baron lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and puts his head back down to resume his beauty sleep. Kicking the offending sneaker out of the way, Buck stops dead center in the living room, hands on his hips and wearing Tommy’s faded USC sweater that’s been worn soft from years of washings and smells tantalizingly of Tommy’s laundry detergent, and can't help but survey the terrain and take stock of how much of himself is residing in Tommy's space. He's visible in every nook and cranny.
He has completely, and totally, infiltrated Tommy's home.
The thought instantly fills him with indescribable joy that blossoms like radiant sunflowers inside his chest. For all of ten seconds. He then remembers the last time he unknowingly moved in with someone and the heartbreaking consequences of it.
Abby.
She had been so terribly sad and broken in the wake of her mother's death. It had been as easy as breathing for Buck to step up, to prove himself, to try and do everything in his power to fix her with his love and devotion. So he stayed with her day and night, and his things had steadily trickled into her apartment. It had been easier back then to do, he had had so little to his name other than the Jeep and his clothes. And he can't lie, it was a relief to get out of that glorified frat house filled with Connor and the others.
It had seemed natural to move in with Abby (even if she had been unaware of it). He thought they were building something special together, something made to last. He hadn't known at the time that while he saw a new beginning, she saw entrapment. For her, she would be trading one role of caretaker for another. Going from a sick mother to a young punk (at 26, he had still been a kid) who was stumbling like a newborn giraffe through his first serious relationship. Had she stayed, there would have been so much handholding on her part as he continued to figure out all the volatile nuances of life and commitment. And that hadn't been fair of him to ask that of her when she was so vulnerable, he understands that now with valuable time and distance. She had been so lost that the only thing she could do to find herself again was travel halfway across the world and leave him behind in the process.
He had lived (however briefly) with Abby. He was living with Tommy, even if he hadn't clocked it until just now.
And he wants it, he realizes with a jolt not unlike the bolt of lightning that had struck him. He wants to live with Tommy. He wants to wake up with him every morning and come home to him every night (demanding schedules permitting, of course). He wants their high-energy workout sessions that always turn into a different kind of workout and their sunset strolls through the canals with an enthusiastic Baron (complete with goofy selfies in front of David Hasselhoff’s house from Baywatch). He wants their weekends at the Venice Farmers' Market. He wants their monthly meetings of the LGBTIQA+ book club that Hen and Karen started and that Tommy and Buck have hosted twice now inside this very house.
He wants Tommy. Plain and simple. He always wants Tommy. Tommy, who has the world’s worst fake mouth static, but jokingly brags all the same about winning a medal for it. Tommy, who acts big and tough on the job and up in the air, but he never fails to shed a tear whenever they watch the climax of a romantic comedy. Tommy, who always has a heating pad and massage waiting on standby for rainy days when the pain in Buck’s bum leg flares up like relentless flames.
Tommy, who has no idea that they're living together.
An icy sliver of fear sluices down his back at the terrifying thought that once Tommy learns they're essentially playing house with each other he might turn tail and run away, just like Abby did. Or, perhaps, even worse, he won't run, but he won't want Buck here anymore either. He can already see it in crystal clear HD: Tommy's handsome face shuttering to stone as it does when he's uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it. His blue eyes darting away and his lips thinning into a brittle line as he tells Buck that this is all moving far too fast, that maybe they should take a step back and put some space between them, and then Buck will be banished back to his sad, pathetic loft that doesn't have Tommy waiting for him in it.
He cuts the catastrophizing off at the knees before it can spiral into something far more treacherous. Tommy, for all his flaws — he drinks orange juice straight from the carton like a Neanderthal and he doggedly believes that his directions are better than the GPS ("I spend most of my time in the air, Evan. I know all the shortcuts throughout Los Angeles County.") — isn't the kind of man who runs away from a fight when the going gets tough. He's the kind of man who digs his heels in and comes out swinging the next round. And he's been nothing but kind to Buck the entire time they've known each other. He enforces tough love when he deems fit, but it always comes from a place of kindness and gentleness.
They love each other. And they live together. It's time Tommy knows it.
So, screwing his courage to the sticking place (Jee-Yun loves Beauty and the Beast), Buck shuffles his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend is manning the stove and making their breakfast. In the oven, a frittata bakes away in Buck’s cast iron skillet and on the stovetop, turkey bacon sizzles as it fries. Tommy, hair curly and wet from his earlier shower, flips crispy pieces while humming along to The National playing softly in the background on the radio.
God, Buck adores this man with everything in him.
Tommy catches him out of the corner of his eye hovering there like a massive dweeb and flashes a dazzling smile his way.
“Hey, babe. What was that noise I heard?”
He can feel an embarrassed blush rapidly bloom across his cheeks until his face is as pink and splotchy as his birthmark. “Oh. That was just me. I, uh, tripped over my running shoe,” he lamely explains.
“They can be quite the menace,” Tommy says with his usual brand of wry humor. He chuckles quietly to himself as he turns his attention back to the mouthwatering bacon. For a tempting moment, Buck just wants to forget the stunning revelation he’s had and instead stay in this blissful, domestic bubble that seems to exist whenever the two of them are alone together. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, there’s just an undeniable ease to the two of them existing in the same space, breathing the same air, hearts beating in tandem.
But, alas, he’s a man on a mission.
Reaching up and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, Buck thinks through his options. He’s come to learn, through many a messy trial and error, that honestly truly is the best policy. The last time he had so thoroughly ignored the elephant in the room was when he had asked Taylor to move in with him for all the wrong reasons.
That had been a train wreck of epic proportions, even for him. He had well and truly bucked that situation up beyond repair.
But that was then and this was now. And the only things Tommy and Taylor had in common were their initials and their partiality to cruising around LA in helicopters. His feelings for them were night and day as well. He had loved Taylor, but by the exhausting end of their relationship, he hadn’t genuinely liked her anymore as a person. They were too different, their morals too misaligned to exist harmoniously together. It isn’t like that with Tommy. He both loves and likes practically everything about his fellow firefighter, even the traits and bad habits that annoy the ever-living shit out of him.
“So, hey, I, uh, kinda just realized something…pretty important.”
Smooth start. And to think, before he met Tommy he had honestly had game. But something about the self-assured pilot, from the moment they met on the tarmac at Harbor and he introduced himself as Evan instead of his standard Buck, had him tripping over his tongue in both the best and worst ways. His foot-in-mouth syndrome had ruined their first date and nearly all chances he had had with Tommy, but it was that same unfiltered nature of his that had Tommy granting him another shot and scoring him as his plus one to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that never was.
Which reminds him: he owes Tommy a dance. He files that tidbit into his mental to-do list for another day.
Tommy looks at him with a quizzical raise of his brow as he lazily twirls the spatula in his hand. “What? Found some more facts about that jellyfish? What’s it called? The spotted—“
“Chriodectes maculatus,” Buck corrects automatically. “Or more commonly known as the spotted box jellyfish. Only the rarest jellyfish in the world, I might add.”
The corner of Tommy’s lush lips curl up into a fond half-smile. “Yeah, that’s the one. I thought you exhausted all knowledge on it last night when we watched that documentary.”
“In the words of Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, ‘Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite.’ So, no, I’ll never know enough about jellyfish, rare or otherwise, to exhaust myself, Thomas.”
Tommy mouths ‘Thomas’ to himself and looks to be gearing up a quippy retort of his own when Buck realizes with tightening dread that he’s on the road to derailing this potentially monumental conversation with talk of jellyfish, of all things. Honestly, he can’t even believe himself half the time.
Time to pivot.
“Forget about the jellyfish. They’re not important right now.”
Swiveling his broad-shouldered body, Tommy gives him his full attention as his eagle-eyed gaze slowly sweeps over the entirety of Buck’s 6’2” frame. Buck, for his part, staunchly fights the urge to fidget as he knows it would give him away in an instant. There’s something almost surgical in the way that Tommy, without ever saying a word, can expertly peel back all the layers of bone and marrow of Buck’s psyche down to his bleeding center where his festering insecurities and crippling self-doubt reside.
If it were anyone else it’d feel violently invasive. But Tommy has only ever treated these undesirable parts of him with the tenderest of care, delicately stitching up invisible wounds Buck hadn’t even known existed until the moment Tommy kissed him in his kitchen and completely shook the bedrock of all his pre-conceived notions about himself.
“Sounds serious,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound in the kitchen is the hiss of the bacon roasting away on the stove. Through the window over the sink, a beam of sunlight shines in and bathes Tommy in its golden rays.
Buck heavily exhales a breath out between his teeth. “It is. Or, it could be. Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it, I guess.”
“Look at what?” Tommy asks, even-keeled as ever. It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t such a damn turn-on.
It’s now or never.
“Look at the fact that… We kinda, almost…sorta, seem to be living with each other?”
Tommy freezes to the spot, his eyes going wide as he blinks, coming off as a perturbed owl for a moment before he schools his features back into his usual calm facade. He looks back down at the bacon and quickly flips some pieces before they can turn into a charred mess of meat.
Composure regained, he asks, “Was that a question or a statement?”
He’s always lightning-quick to toss the proverbial ball back into Buck’s court. Always willing to let him take the lead in their relationship and set the parameters and boundaries. Without fail, where Buck goes Tommy follows. It had been a sweet relief in the early days of their relationship when Buck was stumbling around blind, but nine months in and Buck needs Tommy on equal footing with him. It’s the only way forward.
“It’s, uh, a statement.” Damn. That didn’t sound convincing at all. Closing his eyes and centering himself the way Dr. Copeland taught him, he slowly takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more for good measure, opens his eyes, and looks Tommy square in the eye. “It’s a statement. We’re, for all intents and purposes, living together. And I want, no, I need to know what you think about…that.”
Tommy’s gaze slides away and catches sight of Buck’s mug already topped off with his second cup of coffee for the day as swirling mist rises off of it. He sees Buck’s LAFD hoodie hanging off the back of one of the stools situated at the island. He spots Jee-Yun’s drawings on the fridge, giving the stainless steel appliance so much color and joy. He spies the Fokker Dr. I triplane chew toy Buck specialty ordered for Baron lying on the floor near the dining table.
Tommy’s home hasn’t just been Tommy’s home in quite some time.
He spots every single change that Buck has brought into his house with his very presence, and he gathers them to him like they’re the most precious of jewels. He turns to Buck and smiles at him.
It nearly stops Buck’s heart for a moment.
He loves all of Tommy’s smiles. He loves his smirk when he’s said something particularly snarky or deadpan. He loves the closed-mouth grin he does when Buck is batting his eyes and pouting and Tommy is steadfastly pretending he isn’t endeared by the silliness. He loves the smug curve of his lips when Tommy moves just right inside of him, hitting that elusive, perfect spot that has him seeing stars and clutching Tommy tighter to him until he can’t tell one limb from another.
But this, this is his favorite Tommy smile by a far-flung mile.
It is simply radiant. His smile is wide and open, with his straight, white teeth brilliantly on display. It stretches broadly across his rugged face, exposing his deep-set dimples on either side of his ample mouth. His nose adorably scrunches and his eyes are squinty with unbridled happiness. At the corners of his eyes, his crow’s feet spread like tiny estuaries spooling into the grooves of his tan skin.
He looks boyish and carefree. And so very in love.
All because of Buck. He was the cause of such boundless euphoria. No one has ever loved him the way Tommy unashamedly does.
“What I think is,” Tommy says clearly and concisely, “I think we should make it official. What do you say, Evan? Will you move in with me?”
Buck feels like he was socked in the gut, but only in the very best of ways. His breath is stolen from his body and he doesn’t even know if his feet are still on the ground or if he’s simply floated away with how incandescently lighthearted he feels at this very moment.
“Y-You really mean that? You want to live together?”
It never hurts to double-check. He does that every time with his faithful clipboard. It is truly the only way to be efficient.
Tommy’s smile only widens further. “Evan. You’re my favorite person in the world. Of course, I want to live with you.”
The sunflowers inside Buck’s chest come to full bloom.
He and Tommy live together.
#911 abc#bucktommy#evan buckley#tommy kinard#tevan#kinley#buck x tommy#fanfic#i know it's wildly impossible for a firefighter to be able to afford to live in venice ca#just let me have my fantasy#i've been watching baywatch and i like the vibes of venice#so tommy gets to live right on the canals and he's a fan of the art scene there#let's also pretend that the s3 tsunami wouldn't have also totally destroyed venice and tommy's house#and yes#he did name his dog for the red baron#he's a history nerd (I'm a history nerd)#sue him (sue me)#hope everyone enjoys this little fic
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𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.
synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”
contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao
wc. 1.3k
note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲
comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3
the inverted spear of heaven was no more.
the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.
it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.
however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.
no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.
always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.
if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.
satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.
you couldn't possibly blame him.
after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.
the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.
among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.
it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.
almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.
“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.
the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.
the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.
just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?
satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.
“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.
satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”
you wanted to ask, but decided against it.
“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”
in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.
“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”
“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”
a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.
“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”
“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.
to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.
“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.
satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.
quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.
“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.
“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.
ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.
“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.
“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.
taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#fic. his antithesis#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru angst
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BIG FAN OF YOUR WORK do you mind maybe creating some sort of succubus type fic 🤭🤗??
mdni. nsfw 18+
pairing: mark lee x succubus!reader (office au)
warnings: manipulation, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, reader takes control, mark is tied up
mark was in deep shit.
he didn’t mean to develop the hots for his hot coworker in the cubicle adjacent to his, alright? to a certain extent, you couldn’t really blame him. every day, you’d show up wearing a white button down, slightly unbuttoned just enough to remain professional but also show even cleavage to leave his pants tight. you would wear those black tights and a matching black pencil skirt that made your ass look amazing. red nails, red lipstick, and a cat-eye that could carve his heart out. and you always had those red bottom pumps that mark would definitely let you stomp on his throat with. you were literally a vision of sex, in your office work attire, to mark. he would let you ruin him.
you were so confident and a little sly too, which made mark so flustered around you. “hey, baby boy,” you’d say to him with a smirk on your face, as he walked over to his desk one morning. your legs crossed as you watched him spit and splutter at the nickname.
“b-baby boy?” he said, eyes bulging.
you rolled over to his desk in your rolly chair and pinched his cheek. “yes, baby boy,” you cooed. “you’re so cute. just like a baby boy.”
but mark didn’t want to be known as cute in your eyes. he wanted to be sexy. he wanted to be fuckable.
“m not a baby,” he’d grumble to himself, scooting away from your teasing grin and going back to (pretending to) work on his computer.
you thought he was just so adorable and you loved teasing him like this to get these cute reactions out of him.
mark was so frustrated. after all, his office crush just couldn’t stop teasing him for being “cute”. puppies are cute but you wouldn’t fuck a puppy. he didn’t want to be a stupid office pet in your eyes. he wanted to be a man, your man to be exact.
and on top of all your teasing, he’s been having these… dreams about you. for several weeks in fact. every night. his dreams would always center around you but in different situations. and they were always, always sexual. every dream was different. sometimes he would top, sometimes you. sometimes you would be sucking his dick and sometimes he’d be the one going down on you. and in those dreams, you have gone through every position imaginable. reverse cowgirl, missionary, doggy, 69, standing up, on the wall, in the shower. literally anything and anywhere, you have done it in mark’s dreams. mark would never remember what happened leading up to the sex either. he would fall asleep and next thing he knows, he’s balls deep inside you and you’re milking the hell out of his cock.
every morning, he wakes up hot and sweaty and panting, like he just ran a marathon. he’s normally an evening shower type of guy but now he has to take a freezing cold shower every morning in order to put himself in somewhat decent order before he has to face you at the office. and of course, you’d always be there, teasing the hell out of him. and them he’d remember those dreams… they feel so real to him. it frustrates him to no end how he has been plagued by these sex dreams with you when he isn’t even close to even asking you out in real life.
this night was no different. mark fell asleep and the next thing he knew, he was back sitting in his office chair but this time pants around his ankles and tie bound around his wrists behind his back. you had your tights ripped to shreds, skirt rolled up all the way to your waist, and shirt completely unbuttoned and hanging off your arms to show off your bouncing tits as you bounced up and down on mark’s painfully hard cock. fucking at work? this was a new one.
“fuck, mark,” you panted, tilting your head back and sighing in pleasure. you grabbed his waist with one hand for support and rested the other on his bare chest.
mark couldn’t move his arms from the tight knot his tie had around them but god how badly he wanted to touch and grope your bouncing tits right in front of his face. he growled and surged forward, grabbing one of your tits with his mouth.
your cunt felt so so warm and wet, he was about to lose it. then he felt your pussy spasm and clench around him, causing him to let go from licking and sucking on your breasts and groan in pleasure.
“fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking hot. you feel so good, sweetheart,” he hissed, bucking his hips into yours. “baby, i’m gonna cum.”
you felt his thick cock twitch inside you. you grinned widely and started bouncing your hips harder, faster against his. “cum, baby, cum inside my cunt,” you whispered seductively into his ear.
mark leaned his head back and let out a loud groan as he came deep inside your warm pussy. he unloaded right at the entrance of your womb, bottoming out so deep. every time he cums inside you in these dreams, he feels that he had never cum that much in his life, yet he could still feel your cunt milking him for more. you rocked your hips and grinded them against his, making sure to get every last drop.
he thought this was all a dream but you knew better. afterall, this was how you bound him to you and made him yours.
a/n: i intended this to be for jisung but i got carried away and wrote it for markiepoo instead whoops
#nct dream smut#nct smut#nct dream x reader#nct x reader#nct dream#mark lee x reader#mark lee smut#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 smut#mark x reader
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