#i hide my feelings in my tags but thank you for noticing ♡

[meeshimi]

Read your tags and I hope you’re doing well darling. Lmk if you need anything🫶🏾.

Sincerely,

Your mutual

thank you, I appreciate you 💞

its just been a very hard last year with some new issues arising in my personal life that need life-changing or serious solutions.

it's hard to think about & a lot of it is an internal fight...it just exhausts me. but right now im okay 💞

[reilemon]

🌹Surrender❄️

♡︎ synopsis: Sylus and Zayne show you that you can't get away with lying.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne

♡︎ tags: barely any plot, mfm dynamic, oral (both male and female receiving), orgasm denial, dvp

♡︎ word count: 5.5k

♡︎ a/n: this fic is part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event made by @nanamiscocksleeve and I wrote for @laddelulu30 . It was challenging ngl, but I had fun and I hope you'll like it!

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping. divider by @anitalenia

The car hums softly, the tension inside it palpable. Zayne’s hands grip the wheel, his hazel green eyes fixed on the road ahead, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror. In the back seat, Sylus sits with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You sit beside him, looking out the window, twisting the damp hem of your shirt as you can feel Sylus’ glare on you.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zayne’s calm voice breaks the silence.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It wasn’t planned,” you mumble. “My friend called last minute... I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Sylus shifts beside you, leaning closer. “You didn’t think lying about being at a coffee shop might be a big deal? Or leaving your location on so I’d find out anyway?”

You stiffen, guilt tightening your throat. “I thought both of you were busy and it was just easier that way.”

Sylus scoffs. “Easier? For who? You, sneaking out? Or us, finding out you’re not in your apartment like we thought?”

“Sylus,” Zayne interjects, his eyes flick to the mirror, catching yours. “This isn’t about the coffee shop, or even going out. It’s about trust. We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”

The word trust stings more than Sylus’ sharper tone. Your fingers clench tighter around your sleeve, twisting the fabric until it wrinkles under your grip. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” you say with a lump in your throat. “My friend needed me tonight. She just got out of a bad relationship, and wanted to go out.”

Sylus presses further. “And when it got dangerous? What then? You knew enough to text me—why not just tell me the truth from the start?”

Zayne’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Do you know what went through my head when Sylus told me you weren’t home?” he asks, his voice quieter now. “When I saw where you were? You’re lucky we got there in time.”

Your throat tightens, and you glance out the window as you mumble, “I didn’t think it’d turn into such a mess.”

Zayne exhales slowly, and you can see Sylus in the corner of your eye shaking his head. You know you’re in the wrong and that you made a few stupid decisions tonight, but your pride is not letting you admit it.

The car slows to a stop at a drive-thru, and you hear Sylus grumbling under his breath.

“This place again?”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you catch Zayne roll his eyes before answering. “Yes, it’s the only nearby place that works at this hour.”

Sylus sighs dramatically but complies, rattling off an order as though it’s beneath him.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The apartment greets you with its familiar scent and warmth. What also greets you is pieces of clothing and makeup scattered around the living room. You’re sure your boyfriends noticed the mess, but you’re surprised no one made a single comment as they made their way to the kitchen. You take off your shoes and join them. 

Sylus places the bag of food onto the table, his gaze flicking toward you. “Are those the new jeans?” he asks. 

Caught off guard, you glance down at yourself, smoothing your hands over the denim. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Told you they’d look good,” he says, leaning back against the table, his arms crossing over his chest. The way he says it makes your cheeks warm. 

Before you can respond, Zayne’s voice cuts in, giving you the same compliment. He steps closer, his eyes softening as they glance over you. Tonight, their attention makes you more flustered than usual, so you thank them, your cheeks burning, and you busy yourself with helping Zayne unpack the food.

The three of you engage in small talk as you eat the late-night meal, the earlier tension from the car ride dissipating with each bite. Despite his complaints, Sylus cleans his plate with the efficiency of someone who secretly enjoyed it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Remnants of the day washed away after the shower, the three of you settle on the sofa to watch a movie. Zayne and you slipped into pajamas while Sylus put on a shirt and sweatpants he kept in your apartment. As you sink into the sofa, the warmth of their presence surrounds you. You cover yourself with a blanket, nestling into the space between them. Sylus leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to send a small shiver through you. “Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

You nod, your cheeks warming as Zayne reaches for your hand. His touch is light as he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It’s been a long night,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “You should try to relax.”

The tenderness of each gesture dissolves a little more of the tension lingering from the car ride. For a moment, it feels like the night’s events have been smoothed over.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The blanket draped across your legs is warm, wrapping you in comfort as the faint scent of soap and shampoo lingers from the showers. You stretch out slowly, eyes still on the tv as you move to rest your head on Sylus’ lap. His hand rests on your head, the light touch of his fingers soothing. Your legs find their place on Zayne’s lap, his strong hands moving to cradle your feet. When his fingers press gently into your arches, eliciting a soft sigh from your lips. The way his thumbs knead into your soles sends tiny ripples of relief through your body. Sylus’ fingers gently massage your temple, while Zayne’s hands work slowly over your calves. For a moment, you’re content to lie there, letting their attention wash over you.

But your hand starts to wander.

It traces along the fabric of his sweatpants as you brush over the firm muscle of his thigh before your palm settles over his crotch. Sylus chuckles, and you feel his body tense slightly under your touch. His hand stills as he glances down at you. “You sure you’re not tired?”

You nuzzle against his thigh, “I’m sure,” you say softly.

Sylus’ gaze flicks past you, meeting Zayne’s over your head, the exchange passing in an instant.

You shift onto your back, blissfully clueless, the warmth of the blanket replaced by the cool air of the room as Zayne slides it away, folding it neatly onto the backrest. His hands move to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending faint shivers along your body as he pulls off the piece of clothing. You draw a sharp breath as Zayne’s long fingers trace the sensitive spot between your legs, the barrier of your underwear doing little to dull the sensation. His thumb presses gently, testing your reaction.

Above you, Sylus watches your face as you’re still resting your head on his lap. His hand threads through yours, his grip steady as he lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

Zayne’s eyes flicker down, his full attention locked on the slow movements of his fingers. The pads of his ring and middle finger press firmly against the soaked fabric of your panties, sliding back and forth at a slow pace. The pressure builds as he alternates his rhythm—pushing his fingers harder against you, dragging them in slow strokes, then pulling back just enough to make you whimper. The dampness of your arousal soaks through the thin barrier, your panties clinging to your folds.

“Fuck,” Zayne murmurs. “You’re so wet, my sweet girl. You like this that much? Being teased like the needy little brat you are?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but before you can respond—his thumb circles your clit, pressing firmly enough to draw a gasp from your pretty lips. Your hips shift against his touch instinctively, desperate for more, but his movements remain infuriatingly measured.

Zayne shifts, his hands pressing against your thighs, keeping you open as his head hovers just between your legs. Your legs tremble in his hold when you feel it - the slow swipe of his tongue over the fabric. A quiet moan escapes your lips as he does it again, his tongue dragging across the sensitive spot, his saliva mixed with your slick making the fabric cling to you. Your free hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding into Zayne’s dark hair, urging him closer, urging him to give you more. His eyes flick up briefly, and then you hear Sylus’ sharp tut from above.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice is rich with mock disapproval. He reaches down, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your hand away from Zayne’s head with. He presses your hand above your head, holding both of your wrists in place with one hand, while Zayne’s grip on your hips tightens, making it impossible to move. His fingers press into your skin, holding you down as his tongue flicks out again, swirling slow, maddening circles over your clit. Your head tilts back against Sylus’ thigh, a frustrated sound escaping your lips as you try to shift against Zayne’s hold.

“Look at her,” Sylus muses as he watches you squirm. “So fucking needy. Isn’t that cute?”

Zayne chuckles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. But, after a few more frustratingly dragged out swipes, he finally relents. His hold on your hips loosening just enough to slide your soaked panties to the side, the cool air kissing your exposed skin, spreading goosebumps all over your skin. His thumb brushes lightly along your folds, spreading the slickness, before his tongue is finally on you, dragging slow swipes from your entrance to your clit. Relief courses through you, your thighs trembling as the ache that’s been building finally begins to ease. His tongue moves with precision, parting your folds and swirling around your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Above you, Sylus’ ruby gaze flickers down, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. The fabric bunches in his hand as he lifts it higher, revealing the soft curves of your breasts, the cool air making your nipples pebble instantly. His free hand traces slow circles around one hardened peak, his thumb brushing lightly over it, teasing, before he pinches just enough to make your back arch off the sofa. Then, slowly, his hand trails up, over the side of your neck, before settling on your bottom lip. The gentle pressure makes your lips part instinctively, your tongue swirling around his finger. Sylus adds another finger, the digits sliding deeper as your lips tighten around them, coating them in saliva. Then he pulls them free and drags them down, swirling over the hardened peaks, the added slickness making you moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Sylus asks, his smirk widening as his fingers press harder, rolling your nipples between them.

Zayne’s lips seal around your clit with just enough suction to make you cry out. Each stroke and suck builds the pressure inside you to a breaking point, your toes curling as the pleasure coils tight in your core, threatening to snap. You’re so close—so close you can feel yourself teetering on the edge—

And then Zayne pulls back.

The loss of contact draws a frustrated, broken whimper from your lips, your hips jerking against nothing.

Zayne looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t look so surprised,” his voice calm and infuriatingly composed. “Brats don’t get to finish so easily.” His hands stay firm on your hips, keeping you still as you try to move.

Your lips part in protest, but Sylus cuts you off with a smug tut. “Ah, ah,” he smirks. “You’ll have to earn it first.” His fingers slide down, gliding over your soaked folds before delivering a sharp tap to your swollen pussy, the sudden jolt making you flinch with a yelp.

“Look at this mess,” he mutters, his voice dripping with mockery as he taps again, watching you flinch. “Needy little thing.”

His fingers glide through, your body arching into his touch in desperate need of more. But then he pulls away, leaving you trembling in frustration. His glistening fingers rise to his lips, his eyes locking onto yours as his tongue flicks out, savoring the blend of your juices and Zayne’s lingering taste. He chuckles, “You know we don’t let bad behavior slide.”

Before you can protest, Zayne’s hand slides along your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His hazel eyes meet yours, “You know we’re not angry,” Zayne says softly, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “But we will take our time making sure you understand.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body trembling under the weight of their attention. Frustration wells up, but so does the thrill of knowing exactly what they’re doing. Of course, they wouldn’t let you off so easily—it’s Sylus and Zayne.

Sylus releases your wrists, and before you can process the absence of his touch, Zayne reaches for your hands, pulling you upward with ease until you’re sitting on the sofa. Sylus stands up, stepping beside you as his hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. He tugs them down just enough to free his cock - thick, flushed with a bead of precum at the tip. Your breath catches as he strokes himself lazily, his eyes glinting when he notices your gaze drop to his length.

“Come here,” Sylus commands as he plants one foot on the floor, the other on the sofa, your mouth watering at the sight. He strokes one last time before dragging the head of his cock toward your parted lips. The salty bead of precum hits your tongue, and you can’t stop the whimper that escapes as you take him in. Sylus growls, his hand resting on the back of your head, holding you steady.

Beside you, Zayne stands up, mirroring Sylus’ stance, as he slides his pajama pants down and frees himself. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your hand to him, curling it around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, twitching as his hand envelopes yours, his grip firm as he helps you stroke him. “Slow,” he murmurs softly. “Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

Sylus’ hips begin to move, his thrusts shallow at first, as the thick head of his cock pushes deeper past your parted lips. You hollow your cheeks, your tongue flattening beneath him, and the sharp hiss that escapes his lips goes straight to your core.

“Deeper,” Sylus growls, “I know you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust—his grip keeps you firmly in place as his hips roll forward, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, swallowing around the thick length stretching your throat. Spit drips from the corners of your mouth as he moves, hitting the back of your throat, making you choke with each thrust. Sylus’ movements falter for a moment, his thrusts growing erratic and then, abruptly, he pulls back. The sudden loss leaves you breathless and you look up to see his jaw clenched, his hand squeezing the flushed tip.

“Fuck,” he mutters in a shaky voice. “Almost made me finish down your throat.”

Before you can catch your breath, Zayne’s hand tilts your chin, guiding your mouth toward him, your lips parting instinctively as the head of his cock brushes against them. He presses forward, filling your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as your tongue swirls around the tip, savoring the salty taste. A low groan escapes him, his hand resting on the back of your head as he sets a languid pace. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but the weight of him—hot and heavy against your tongue—makes you moan softly, the sound vibrating against him. Your hand finds Sylus, wrapping around his slick length as you stroke him in rhythm with Zayne’s thrusts. Sylus hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching in your grasp as he watches.

The ache between your legs becomes unbearable, your thighs pressing together in the desperate need for release. Unfortunately for you, Zayne’s sharp eyes catch the motion. Abruptly, he pulls back, his cock slipping free with a wet pop.

“No,” he says firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His grip on your chin forces your gaze upward. “Spread your legs.”

You almost whimper at the tone. “But—”

“Spread them,” Zayne repeats. The authority in his voice makes your thighs part, the frustration growing as Sylus chuckles above you.

Zayne’s hand shifts, guiding your mouth back to him. His cock slides past your lips again, and this time his thrusts are faster, each movement pushing deeper until the tip hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, the sound of your gagging pulling a guttural growl from him.

“Just like that,” Zayne murmurs, his voice rough. “Take all of it.”

Beside him, Sylus’ breaths become rough and uneven as his hand tightens over yours, his hips snapping forward, drawing Zayne’s attention.

Zayne’s hand slides to the back of Sylus’ neck, pulling him forward until their faces are almost touching. His voice drops low, quiet enough that you can’t make out the words. Their whispers drip with intent, and the thought of them planning your undoing makes your pussy clench desperately, slick spilling over as your body begs to be used exactly the way they want.

Sylus’ eyes flick to Zayne’s, hazy with arousal, with a faint smirk on his lips. Zayne’s lips press to the sharp line of Sylus’ jaw, followed by teeth dragging over his skin before he bites down, rough enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting rips a guttural, feral sound from Sylus’ throat, his cock twitching in your hand, precum spilling along your fingers.

“Good,” Zayne mutters against Sylus’ jaw before he pulls back, releasing Sylus’ neck. Their eyes meet for a moment, before their full attention is back on you.

Zayne’s thrusts grow erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat one last time before he pulls out, leaving you gasping. You barely have time to recover before Sylus’ hand grips your jaw, tilting your face toward him, but his other hand grabs at the hem of your pajama top, tugging it upward in one swift motion, leaving you bare before him.

“Open,” Sylus commands, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue slipping out. The flushed tip of his cock presses against it, dragging across it as he smears the salty slick, before his release spills suddenly, the first hot spurt hitting your tongue. The rest paints your cheeks, dripping down your chest, and clings to your skin in messy streaks. Zayne watches, his hand gripping your wrist as you stroke him. His cock twitches violently in your grasp, and when your fingers tighten, slick with his precum, it pushes him over the edge. A sharp, choked groan escapes his lips as his hips snap forward, his release spilling over your face and breasts, mingling with Sylus’ mess.

You’re trembling, every inch of your body aching with unfulfilled need. Sylus tilts your face up with two fingers under your jaw, making you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”

Zayne’s fingers brush the corners of your tear-streaked eyes. “She is,” he agrees with a smirk.

You bite your lip as your gaze flicks between them - they’re both still hard, their cocks twitching and glistening.

Zayne moves first – he sits back on the sofa and grabs a large pillow and positions it behind him. Reclining slightly, he leans back against the cushion, his legs spreading as his cock juts upward. His hands reach for you, pulling you toward him, guiding you onto his lap and helping you recline against him. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth melting some of the tension from your muscles. His arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Just relax,” His voice is calm and soothing as his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

Sylus steps closer, his sharp gaze raking over your trembling form, smirk widening as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters, his eyes burning as he spreads your legs, his grip firm.

Zayne’s hands glide upward, smearing the mess of their release over your chest before his fingers close around your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp. Then, his fingers trail downward, leaving a sticky path until they stop just above your needy core. You grab onto his veiny forearms at the first stroke of his fingers over your clit, before his fingers dip lower, gathering your slick before gripping his cock. He presses the tip to your entrance, dragging the length of his shaft through your folds, catching your clit in the motion, making your pussy flutter.

Zayne shifts beneath you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before nudging inside. The stretch is immediate, the delicious ache making your breath hitch as he pushes deeper, steadying your hips with firm hands. A raw, breathless moan escapes as he fills you, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it.” Zayne whispers in your ear, his grip tightening as he holds you in place.

Every slow thrust presses against your most sensitive spots, each movement tightening the coil in your belly. Sylus watches as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly to match the roll of Zayne’s hips.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters. “Look at her—dripping down to the base, and you’ve barely started.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his lips brushing your ear as his thrusts grow deeper, each one sinking to the hilt. The intensity builds with each roll of his hips, his cock filling you completely. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound making Sylus’ hand quicken as he strokes himself.

“Are you ready to take me too?” Sylus asks, his voice low and teasing.

Your body freezes momentarily at the question, your pussy clenching around Zayne’s length.

“You… both?” your voice trembles. The idea intrigues you, but you’re hesitant. “I don’t know if I can - I mean – I’m not sure it’ll fit -”

Sylus’ smirk widens. “Oh, it’ll fit,” his voice is almost mocking, “You’ve been so needy tonight. This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?”

Zayne nuzzles against your ear, his lips brushing your skin. “But only if you want it.”

You fall silent, your breath shallow as you process their words.  Sylus’ expression softens, his hand smoothing over your thigh as his gaze meets yours. “You can say no, darling.” he says softly.

Zayne presses a kiss just below your ear. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. You don’t have to take this any further.”

The sudden shift in their demeanor makes your chest tighten and their patience reassures you. You take a second to think. They’d never tried this before—never pushed to see if you could take them both at once. With how thick and long they both are, the idea had always seemed impossible. But tonight, the need is unbearable. You need to feel them—both of them—stretching you, breaking you, until there’s nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of them taking you completely.

You take in a shaky breath, “I want to. I’m ready.”

Zayne’s hands tighten gently around your waist, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll take care of you.”

Sylus’ teasing smirk returns. His hand grips his cock, the flushed head pressing against your stuffed entrance. Sylus’ cock nudges forward, catching your clit one, two times as he struggles to push inside. “Relax, sweetheart.” he whispers. Your legs tremble as Sylus presses forward again, the thick head of his cock pushing at your entrance again. A high-pitched whimper escapes you, as Sylus’ cock slips over your clit once more before the head finally begins to ease inside. Sylus moves slowly each inch forcing your body to adjust to the impossible fullness. The tip finally slips fully inside, your walls clamping down tightly around both of them. The sensation is almost too much, your gasps and desperate moans filling the air as your body struggles to adjust to the impossible fullness.

“Shh,” Zayne soothes, as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing perfectly. Just breathe, my darling.”

Sylus growls, his hand gripping your thighs as he stills. “So tight. Goddamn, Zayne, you’re not leaving much room.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his voice calm but you can feel his muscles tensing. Sylus shifts his hips, his tip stretching you impossibly as he inches deeper. The new fullness is overwhelming, every nerve inside you screaming for more.

“So fucking sensitive,” Zayne teases. “I bet she’ll cum before you’re even halfway there.”

The words make you whimper, your cheeks burning as Sylus pushes further. His hands tighten on your thighs as he finally bottoms out, holding still to let you feel every throbbing inch buried inside you. The maddening stretch of having both of them makes your pussy fluttering around them, pain and pleasure blurring together. Your breath comes in ragged, broken gasps as the tension in your belly coils tighter and tighter, impossibly close to snapping. You try to roll your hips, desperate to chase the climax that is right there, but their strong hands hold you still, denying you the friction you need

“I’m so close - !” you whimper, the desperation spilling from your lips as your head tilts back against Zayne’s shoulder. “I’m gonna—please, I need to—”

Sylus smirks down at you, “Close already?” he taunts. “I haven’t even fucking started yet.”

His hips shift slightly and that is all you need to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you with devastating force. The tightness of your walls pulls guttural groans from both men, Zayne’s breath hitching against your neck as Sylus growls above you. They hold you steady while your body trembles in the aftermath, shallow gasps leaving your lips.

Sylus’ hand digs into your thigh, the grip bruising as his other hand braces on the backrest. His cock moves with shallow thrusts, the friction making your eyes roll back.

“You’re so sensitive,” Zayne murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “I can feel you clenching every time he moves.” Sylus’ pace quickens slightly, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightens impossibly fast.

“Already?” Sylus teases, as he watches you writhe.

You don’t even register the question as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench tightly around them both, the overwhelming tightness pulling a groan from Sylus, his hips stuttering briefly, while Zayne sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on your waist.

But Sylus doesn’t stop. His thrusts deepen, slamming into you, the drag along your oversensitive walls pulling pathetic whimpers as your pussy tightens around him. The slick, maddening friction of their cocks sliding together, every thrust dragging a raw moan from your lips as the stretch pushes you closer to the edge. Your breath catches, your back arching as the coil snaps. Pleasure rips through you, blinding and raw, tears streaking your face. You clench around them tighter, milking them both as the aftershocks crash through you.

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his chest heaving against your back as his cock throbs inside you. The tight clamp of your walls around him has him on the brink, but he holds on as his hand moves downwards from your waist.

“You’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.” he rasps.

His fingers find your swollen clit, the first touch sending a shock through your body, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Easy,” Zayne soothes, as he presses his fingers firmly against the sensitive spot.

Sylus’ grip on your thigh is bruising as he rams deeper, his eyes locked on yours – watery and heavy-lidded. “You’re milking me—gonna pull me apart.”

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his fingers merciless on your clit, rubbing slick circles that make your hips jerk wildly. “Cum,” he rasps. “Now. Let us feel you, my love.”

Your body obeys - your walls clamp down hard, as you completely lose your voice from the overstimulation. Sylus curses, as your fluttering walls drag him deeper. His cock throbs hard before he cums, his release, hot and thick, floods you as his hips stammer. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice breaking. In your fucked out daze you hear Zayne moan in the crook of your neck, as his hips still, burying himself to the hilt, his release hitting in heavy hot waves, mixing with Sylus’, leaving you completely full, dripping, and ruined.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your head lolling back against Zayne’s shoulder. His lips press softly against your temple, his hands stroking your waist gently as Sylus leans over, his breaths heavy and uneven. Every inch of you feels hypersensitive, your skin slick with sweat and cum. You’re pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fullness lingering even as the men stay still, both of them still buried deep inside you.

Sylus’ hand moves from your thigh, his gaze scanning your face. “Breathe for me.” he says, still breathless. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that streaked down your face. You nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak, and you focus on steadying your breath. Sylus smiles softly. “You did so good.”

Zayne’s lips press against your temple again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “She handled it perfectly. Didn’t you, darling?”

The praise makes your cheeks flush, though you’re still too dazed to say anything. Sylus shifts first, pulling out slowly, the movement making you wince. His hand stays steady on your thigh, stroking softly for a moment before he walks away. Zayne follows a moment later, his withdrawal careful and deliberate. The sudden emptiness pulls a small whimper from your lips before Zayne’s arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. His hands rub soothing circles over your sides, grounding you as he shifts to sit upright, cradling you in his lap.

Sylus returns quickly with two warm damp cloths. Zayne takes one to clean your face, while Sylus kneels in front of you as he gently wipes away the mess from your thighs and belly.

Zayne murmurs against your temple. “Do you need water? Anything else?”

Your voice is faint, barely above a whisper, as you manage to say, “Just stay… both of you.”

Sylus chuckles softly. “Like we’d go anywhere,” He tosses the cloth aside and sits down on the sofa beside you, while Zayne adjusts his hold, setting you gently to sit in between them and covers your lap with the blanket. The warmth of their bodies, every soothing stroke of their hands, their quiet breaths, soothe you. Though, you can’t relax.

Their care, their unwavering attention, makes the guilt bubble up. Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. You swallow hard, your fingers clutching the blanket as you glance between them.

You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For lying to you. For sneaking out.”

Zayne presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice calm as he replies. “I’m glad you admit your mistake. We need to know where you are to keep you safe.”

Sylus’ nods as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Exactly. We weren’t mad because you went out. We were upset because you didn’t tell us.”

Tears prick your eyes again, but this time they’re from relief. “I won’t do it again… I promise.”

Zayne smiles softly. “We’ll hold you to that promise.”

You nod, the exhaustion catching up to you as your body sinks further into the sofa, your eyelids heavy. But Sylus doesn’t let you rest – he stands up and takes you hand in his. “We need to wash up.”

You whine. “I don’t want too - I’m too tired.”

Sylus grumbles something before he leans down, grips your waist, and hoists you up over his shoulder. You yelp as you’re suddenly upside down, your protests turning into a mix of laughter and annoyance as you squirm in his hold.

“Sylus!” you laugh, your fists half-heartedly thudding against his back. “Put me down!”

“Not happening,” he replies smugly, his palm landing a playful smack against your bare ass.

Behind you, Zayne shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he stands up, going around you two and towards the bathroom. “Take it easy, Sylus. She’s had enough for tonight.”

By the time you’re back in bed, wrapped snugly in fresh blankets, sleep takes you almost instantly, nestled between Sylus and Zayne, with your heart light.

[roturo]

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ I FOUND MY BEST FRIEND LITTLE SISTER FINISHING IN HIS BATHROOM WHILE MOANING MY NAME. So... I fucked her.

tags: smut, unprotected sex, dumbification, breeding, overstimulation, a lot of cum, age-gap, gojo is SO obsessed with you, tummy bulge, sadism, breeding, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, reader gets caught masturbating, objectification if you squint, possesive gojo...

A/N: wasn't my last writing of the year lol, wrote this while watching sinjin drowing so npr, happy holidays!!

You’ve known Gojo Satoru almost for your entire life. It was one day your brother Suguru introduced the both of you just so he could enter the house and have dinner to continue playing with Satoru.

Ever since Gojo has been a daily presence in your house. He was known as “Y/N’s big brother hot best friend” well, mostly to the ones who liked Gojo, because that didn’t stop the other girls from crushing into your brother. 

You told your friends you didn’t like Gojo in that way, since he was off limits for you- Not only because he was your brother's best friend but because it also ruined your hopes thanks to the age difference you had between. 

Being a freshman in college wasn’t easy. Not only you had the weird seniors going for the new girls, but being known as the Geto’s Suguru’s hot little sister didn’t feel like a compliment either. At least Gojo treated you as your own person, not like Geto’s other friends.

Geto invited you over at his dorm, having some of his close friends present, which included Gojo. It turned into an usual occurrence ever since you entered college, your brother making it easier for you to adapt into this new environment. 

All of you decided to take it easy tonight and just watch a movie. Nothing wrong with it, right? Well, there's nothing wrong. While watching, Gojo would try to make small talk with you, most likely because he’s just clingy and Geto is hanging with his girlfriend on the other sofa. Nothing wrong with what’s happening. During scary moments he would lean and hug you. Keeping his right hand on your left thigh, playing with the strings of your tiny small pajama shorts. 

That comment is his, obviously. Keeping the blanket covering both of your bodies and his totally not wrong act. And you’re pretty sure if he just moved his hand a little higher he would feel your wetness coating your shorts.

Gojo was trying to gain your attention. It’s pretty obvious he’s been crushing you for years now, and he’s pretty sure Suguru has commented about it. Taking it as a go to continue flirting with you and adorning your pretty face with reddish colors.

But ever since he entered college, he kinda forgot about his crush and got his head (and dick) into other girls. The first time he saw you again, he couldn’t believe it. You looked so beautiful and.. different in a good way. It’s like his caged feelings escaped and flew all across the room.

And he’s sure that happened to you too, because your pretty face didn’t hide those loving reddish colors he adored.

Coming back to the present, it was kinda weird everytime he hugged you or leaned into you. You seemed uncomfortable… Your thighs caging his hand, making his blood run straight into his cock. But he didn’t think anything about it, and assumed it was normal. 

While he was leaning into you, it became difficult and you decided to go to the bathroom to at least fix the problem going on between your legs and left. After a while, Gojo noticed that you were taking a long time, and he really needed to use the bathroom too to also fix his problem between his legs. He got up, commenting about going to the bathroom too. His friends clearly are not caring about it– too busy in their make out session.

He got out and decided to wait for you to get out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the bathroom door for a while until he realized the door was unlocked so he assumed that you already finished and just went somewhere else. 

He opened the door and then, he saw you.

Never in his entire life did he expect to see such a pretty sight. Your pretty fucking face could make him cum alone. Your mouth making an ‘o’ form with your eyebrows scrunched up, just whimpering his name. Legs opened up trying to find balance sitting down in the toilet.

And you might have an exhibitionism kink or maybe you were just at your limit. Because once you realized Gojo was standing there watching you, it brought you to climax. Taking you an embarrassing amount of time to recover from it.

He couldn’t believe his eyes and shut the door in front of you face and went back to the living room with a raging erection, and never mentioned the incident with you from the remaining time.

As soon as he left, you went up running towards him, begging to not tell anyone about it. And Gojo Satoru, being the asshole he is, saw this as an opportunity.

“Okay.”

“Okay?! Oh my god Gojo, thank you so much- I swear I can explain it was-”

“But,”

Fuck. There has to be a ‘but’

“You have to go out with me and do it on my face.”

Silence…

“I- I’ve never done it before…”

Oh fuck. You’re going to be the cause of the death of Gojo Satoru.

He wasted no time taking you to his dorm, stealing small pecks from you which helped you with the anxiety in your tummy turn into desire for him. Feeling confident enough, once the both of you entered his dorm he closed the door and you attacked his lips with no warning. Earning a groan from him, your hole clenching at the feeling of his clear erection making its presence between the both of you.

He picked you up, a moan leaving his lips once he realized the big difference of size between your bodies, thinking how you would be capable of taking his cock. He had to prepare you enough to fit him.

Your back arched from the bed as Satoru's tongue laps up the slick of your soaking hole, his lips around your clit, sucking like his life depended on it. It's been so long since he felt like this for somebody, the feeling that he just wants to bend you over anything and just... shove his cock in your tight little pussy.

It's like, you're created for the sole purpose of pleasuring him. You just have to be, that's what he thinks as he plays with your body. Fat tears fall out of your pretty doe eyes, your hands finding their way onto his scalp and tugging at his hair.

Why can't you just take it? Look at you now, whimpering and crying, but on the inside you know you love it, being a little whore for your brother’s best friend– you sob as he continues his assault on your poor pussy.

Why do you keep screaming at him to stop? You were just screaming his name some hours again. Is it the overstimulation? But you weren’t prepared enough for his cock!

Gojo knows you better than anyone, he knows you even better than your older brother. Why do you think he’s the one taking care of you this whole time in college? Who do you think has been scaring off the guys waiting in line to have a taste of this pussy? It’s so weird you don’t know about it because everyone thinks you’re off limits right now.  Is it because you’re really that naive? Maybe he loved that of you, how you’re so clueless of how crazy you make him. Being known as “Gojo’s Satoru’s hot next and official last real girl” instead of “Geto’s hot little sister”

 Like- That’s why he's giving your sweet little cunt a lot of attention right now.

“Ssatoru! Please, stop! baby… ‘s too much..”  All your whines fall into deaf ears as he continues without a care. Your pussy felt so stimulated as he sucked on your hole, his tongue licking and his throat groaning at the mere taste of your slick.You can barely lift your hands in exhaustion.

For hours, he didn't stop, continuously dragging orgasms out of you without fail.

“Aww, are you tired? But I finally have the girl of my dreams" You nodded, your tummy full of butterflies, making a mental note to talk about your feelings with Satoru tomorrow- your eyes droopy from all the cumming you've been doing for the past hours.

"But, princess, I'm not done yet~ I have to show you how much I desired you this whole time, how much I have waited for you to finally give and and realize." Gojo purred as unclasped the button of his pants, taking off his own clothing. “ But I guess you were just so dumb to get it all those years ago, at least you kept this cute cunt for me. We still have much time left. Fill you up and break you apart baby” You were faced by his raging cock, hard and full- he sits back down between your legs, lifting them up to his shoulders again, he then rests his hand against your clit. And after that, he slapped your pussy so hard that it made you jump and cry of his name. Never in your life did you expect your dream to become true and have your first time with him. Nor Gojo being a sadist and a have an obsession with your pretty little cunt compared to him

"I'm gonna pump your pussy with all the cum I have, girlie. You made a promise after all."

It's like Gojo doesn’t have a stamina limit in his body- able to go round after round in position after position - but at this point it’s been god knows how many times. He’s addicted to the way you feel around him, the sounds you make when he fucks into you a certain way, or just the look of your fucked-out, dazed face that has him needing more of you. 

“hah- made a big mess down there, huh?” Gojo sneers brashly, heavy hips rocking into you faster at just the lewd sight of his cum from previous rounds smothering your skin. the aching twitch in his cock won’t fade, pleasure burgeoning with every press of his cock into the hilt of your pussy. “I think there’s room for some more, yeah? just one more…”

Your little play doll for him to change, shape, and form. A clear bump showing and leaving your tummy, making Gojo’s eyes go crazier and more full of desire than before. He programs you to do things he wants, and you just nod your head at his words though you don't understand them, just giving him a smile on your lips- your delicate fingers already spreading your pussylips for him, ready to take his cock inside of you. Biting your lip, rolling your eyes as he plunges into you. 

You couldn’t count how many times Gojo’s said ‘just one more round’, but from the fatigue glimmering in his eyes and the raggedness lacing his breath - you can tell this is the last one. So naturally, he’ll make sure it’s the best one of the night. 

“g’na fill you up like you deserve, yeah? lemme fuck this pussy full,” Gojo grunts pantingly between a grin, fingers digging into your waist taut as the heavy smacks of his hips against yours get sloppy and quick. it’s with rasped groans and his hips fully bottomed out that he finally cums for the last time, ropes of white seeping out around his shaft and spilling onto the sheets. he can’t help but bargain and promise to clean the bed if you let him do it all over again tomorrow.

[esouliie]

COME FIND ME, MY LIGHT.

(natasha romanoff x reader)

summary | What began as an attempt to bring Christmas back to Natasha turned into something deeper as both of you realised that love is what truly warms the heart this season. By Christmas Eve, Natasha wasn’t just in love with the holiday again: she was in love with you, and maybe- just maybe- you had been in love with her all along too.

tags | christmas fic! hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, dead family trope, alternative universe so no avengers, you’re both a bit sad! :/

notes | i want a christmas love like this so what better way to manifest than by writing a fic abt it hehe. this was also inspired by my fav person’s return to tumblr and her love for the holiday - @please-destroy, thank you for inspiring this by just being you! this is also a part of your gift, surprise!! everybody, go read her stuff now. it’s truly amazing!

word count | 5K

Merry Christmas!! ⊹♡

Since the moment you met, you knew Natasha carried a storm inside her. It was always tamed, hiding just beneath the surface of her eyes. But, from a year of friendship, you’ve noticed that storm that seemed to erupt around this time of the year. Being your only friend, she was always the one to accompany you on your trips out around the city. It’s there where you noticed the way she flinched at carols and avoided the cheerful chaos of Christmas markets you brought her too, by moving through it as fast as she can. The world’s merriment seemed to mock her darker memories. She confessed one night, in a rare moment of vulnerability and a very expensive bottle of wine, that Christmas had always been a painful time for her. Her voice, usually steady and unwavering, softened as she looked at you across the table. She told you about her sister, Yelena—the only person in her family who had ever truly cared about Christmas. Yelena had been the kind of person who could find joy even in the bleakest of places, someone who refused to let the world’s coldness harden her heart.

“She loved it,” Natasha said, her lips curling into a wistful smile as if she could still see Yelena bustling around their childhood home. “The lights, the snow, the decorations. She’d drag me into whatever shop she could find, looking for things to make the house even more festive. Ornaments, candles, the cheesiest, most stupid Santa hats—whatever she could get her hands on.” She paused, her gaze unfocused as though she were looking back through the years.

Yelena had been the one to make Christmas feel like magic. She knew all of the Christmas carols, singing along even if the notes were slightly off-key. This joy followed her into her adulthood, and even when she became sick. Every year, she insisted on stringing up lights around their shared apartment —“even if we don’t have a tree, Natasha, we’ll have lights. You know it’s all about the glow.” She was fearless, mischievous, and relentlessly stubborn in her belief that joy was worth chasing, even if it didn’t come easy. “She’d bake,” Natasha continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Not well obviously— she couldn’t stand for long at the point. Plus, her cookies had always been terrible—but she didn’t care. She’d make a mess everywhere and laugh at herself, daring me to do better. I never tried, though. I always just watched her and took her to bed whenever she was done.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass, her knuckles whitening slightly. “She believed in traditions, even when there was no reason to. Especially when there was no reason to,” she added, “she said traditions gave people hope, something to hold on to in the dark. I didn’t get it then—I still don’t fully— but with time, I understood she was trying to help me be okay with the world when she was no longer around.”

Yelena had been more than just a younger sister to Natasha —she had been her tether, her mirror, her light. She was the last person left of her family, and the only one who ever made Natasha feel things she often tried to ignore: a steady warmth, a strong connection, the possibility of life being worth more. She was everything Natasha wish she could be.

And when Yelena died, Christmas died with her.

“There was no one to care about it anymore,” Natasha said, her voice breaking for the briefest of moments before she pushed the emotion back behind her walls, blinking her tears away. “No one to make it mean anything.” You reached across the table, placing your hand over hers. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t meet your eyes either. For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick. “She would’ve liked you,” she murmured after a while, her voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Yelena… she always liked people who made things feel… safe.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling deep in your heart. You realised, in that moment, just how much Natasha trusted you—how much she had given you by sharing this piece of herself. From that moment, you made a promise to yourself: a promise to return Yelena’s light back into her life.

⊹♡

One morning, you found yourself lost on a tree farm. Rows upon rows of evergreens stretched out like soldiers in formation, their frosted branches from the night before glistening in the morning sun. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound for a moment. Natasha walked beside you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, her eyes on swivel but not necessarily looking at the trees. She hadn’t said much since you picked her up that morning, you weren’t entirely sure if it was the early start or the occasion that silenced her.

“This one’s nice.” You said, gesturing to a stately Fraser fir with almost symmetrical branches. She stopped, gave the tree a quick once-over, and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, moving along until you could find the next one. You had planned on finding a tree that you both could put up at her place, but with each step, it seemed like this tree would be better suited living at yours. You tried again. “What about this one?” You pointed to a taller tree, its branches also slightly uneven but full of character. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess. If you like it.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t inviting either. You let out a small breath, watching it cloud in front of you before dissipating into the icy air.

“No, we can keep looking.”

Laughter and the occasional clatter of a fallen tree echoed through the air. You couldn’t see them mostly but could imagine families adorned in colourful hats and scarves scattered across the farm. Natasha, however, didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes back to skimming over the trees with a detached disinterest and her surroundings, her mouth set in a way that told you she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Do you want to go home? You asked gently.

She paused, her head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to respond. “You wanted a tree,” she said finally, her voice even. “So we’re getting a tree.”

“It’s not that important.” You said. “If you’re not into it, we can go.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” She said, her voice clipped. Then, softer: “Let’s just look over there.”

You didn’t press her further.

The two of you wandered deeper into the farm, the trees becoming denser, their branches heavy with snow. You found yourself wondering if Natasha even saw them, her eyes not even bothering with her environment anymore as she kept her head down towards the snow, her mind clearly somewhere far away. “How about this one?” You tried again, stopping in front of a modest blue spruce. Its branches were sturdy, the kind that could hold up heavy ornaments, and its shape was pleasingly perfect. She stopped beside you, her eyes lingering on the tree. She didn’t say anything right away, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss it like the others. But then she tilted her head, considering.

“It’s okay.” She said, and while it wasn’t glowing praise, it was a step up from fine.

“You sure?” You asked, not wanting to push.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the tree a second longer. “Yeah. It’s fine.” She finished, before turning abruptly back in the other direction. Later, the workers secured the tree to the roof of your car, their cheerful banter filling the space as you and Natasha stood off to the side. She didn’t say much, but when you glanced over at her, you thought you saw her mouth twitch—just the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” She said quietly.

You offered her a small smile. “I’m glad you came.”

⊹♡

Snow finally began to settle permanently in the middle of December. It clung to the rooftops and frosted the tree branches outside your apartment. Winter had truly arrived. You hadn’t seen Natasha since that morning; her work had whisked her off to the West Coast for an urgent business trip, leaving you to decorate the tree in your tiny apartment alone. Your living room was silent except for the soft hum of a holiday playlist you’d set to shuffle, but you were used to the lingering echo since moving in.

You missed her terribly.

Without Natasha here, you were unable to focus on anything but yourself: your terrible breakup last Christmas that had you packing your bags and running away to a different state, your argument with your family that had been the last time you’d spoken to them and the reason why you weren’t invited home this year, your sadness that crept up whenever you were forced to sit in silence with yourself. Deep down, you know she could see through you, could see how you suffered much like she did. It’s why you both clicked together instantly. But the difference with Natasha is that she never pried, never pushed you to talk about what you weren’t ready to say. And it wasn’t like you wanted to dwell on these things, but they lived inside you now, demanding attention in the silence.

Your ignorance was bliss, until it wasn’t.

And days when Natasha went away were the worst.

The doorbell rang at a late hour. Behind it stood Natasha, her coat dusted with fresh snow, her cheeks flushed pink from the nipping cold. She looked exhausted, her carry-on slung over one shoulder and her laptop bag in the other.

“You’re back?” You blurted out, wondering why she was here and not at her own place. It was Wednesday after all.

“I wanted to see you.” She admitted, shuffling awkwardly at her confession.

You pulled her through the door, allowing her a second to set her bags down with a tired sigh, her shoulders finally dropping as the door clicked shut behind her. “How was the trip?” You asked as you moved toward the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle and her mug.

“Exhausting.” She replied, shedding her snow-damp coat and draping it over the back of the chair. “And frustrating. Clients were indecisive, as usual, and the meetings went in circles half the time.”

You gave her a sympathetic look as you handed her a steaming mug of tea. “At least now you’re done for the holidays, right?”

She hummed in agreement, her fingers wrapping gratefully around the warmth of the cup. Despite the drink, you noticed her shiver and disappeared into your bedroom. You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out an oversized purple sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants.

When you handed them to her, she raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re not sitting around in wet clothes, Natasha.” You cut her off, gesturing toward the bathroom. “Go change.”

By the time she emerged, looking infinitely more comfortable in your clothes, you had noticed the snow starting to pick up outside. Large flakes swirled under the glow of the streetlamps, a storm intensifying.

Perfect weather for what you had planned.

You grabbed a spare hat and scarf from the coat rack, along with a pair of gloves, and tossed them at her.

“What’s this?” Natasha asked, catching the items with a puzzled expression.

“We’re going out.”

“Out? In this weather?”

You were already pulling on your own coat and boots, ignoring her protests. “Yes, out. You’ve been cooped up in airports and meeting rooms for weeks. You need this.”

“I need sleep.” She muttered, but she already had her coat, reaching for the hat, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to smile.

“Come on. You urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the door.

The streetlights cast a warm golden glow on the fresh blanket of snow, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her reluctant smile cracked through the guarded exterior she so often wore when you were outside. It was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Looking down at her watch, she noticed the time read 1am. “Oh my God, it’s the middle of the night,” she moaned, shaking her head, “and it’s freezing!”

“You’re Russian.” You deadpanned. “Aren’t you genetically programmed to thrive in this?”

She shot you a withering look, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

She turned back around towards your building but before she could move any further, the first snowball struck her shoulder with a soft thwump. She froze, blinking in disbelief. You stood a few feet away, grinning triumphantly, the remnants of the snowball crumbling in your hand. She swung back around, her eyes narrowed, lips parted in exaggerated shock. “Oh, so that’s how it is? These are your clothes you know!” Before you could reply, she bent down, scooped up snow, and hurled it at you. It hit squarely on your chest, the icy cold seeping through your coat.

“Hey!” You yelped, laughing.

“You started this!” She shot back, her voice light—playful in a way you rarely heard.

And then it was war. Snowballs flew in all directions, and the street filled with your laughter, echoing off the quiet houses. Natasha’s aim was deadly accurate, and you were sure she was holding back for your sake. It was quite pathetic. At one point, she feigned defeat only to pounce on you with a pile of snow that left you sputtering.

“You’re a cheat!” You gasped, brushing snow off your face.

“And you’re slow!” She quipped, already forming another snowball to smush in your face.

The cold stung your nose and turned your cheeks raw, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Natasha laughed—real and unrestrained, her head thrown back, the sound almost musical in the still night. It was the kind of laugh that felt like a gift, something rare and precious, and you never wanted it to end. Finally, both of you collapsed onto the snow, breathless and flushed. The stars peeked through the gaps in the clouds, and the world seemed impossibly quiet, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her knitted beanie (that actually belonged to you) slightly askew. “Okay,” she said between gasps, “I admit—that was fun.”

“You’re so welcome.” You teased, shifting to look at her.

“But that’s only because I beat your ass.”

She looked so beautiful in this moment. Her cheeks were rosy, the same shade as her damp hair where stray snowflakes had melted. She was at peace—something you wish you saw more of. You brushed a gloved hand against her cheek, then leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her icy forehead, unable to stop yourself.

“You were right. You’re freezing.” You murmured.

“Maybe.” She replied, her smile small. She shifted closer, laying her head on top of yours. “But I don’t mind.”

⊹♡

With both you and Natasha no longer at work, meant she could hang out with you more often. It was late one evening —you both had spent the day inside your apartment doing absolutely —when she insisted on a walk, claiming the air was getting "stuffy," though you suspected she just needed an excuse to stretch her legs.

Somehow, you had ended up in the suburbs in New Jersey.

“You know, this is kind of perfect.” She said, glancing over at you with a small smile. “No one’s out right now.” You laughed softly, the warmth of her gaze doing more to fight the chill than the layers you’d bundled yourself into. “Yes, well, the suburbs In Jersey are surprisingly magical when nobody’s around.” You joked, sarcasm evident, as you nodded toward the rows of houses strung with twinkling lights. It felt like something out of a postcard, the kind of scene you’d only read about.

The two of you turned a corner and were met with the soft harmony of voices carried on the wind. A group of carolers stood in front of a house, lanterns glowing in their hands as they sang “Silent Night.” Natasha paused, her steps slowing as she tilted her head to listen. Her expression softened, a rare kind of calm washing over her features.

“You don’t strike me as the caroling type.” You teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“I’m not.” She admitted, though her lips curved into a grin. “But... it’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

It was odd. This was the first time you’d seen Natasha act normal with the idea of Christmas.

“They make it look so easy.” She said after a while, her voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“They make it look easy believing in... I don’t know. The magic of it all.” She added, as her brow furrowed.

You turned to look at her, the soft glow of the carolers’ lanterns catching in her green eyes. “Maybe it’s not about believing.” You said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just about... letting yourself feel it. Even if it hurts, let yourself feel all of it.”

She stood quietly for a beat before adding, “Yelena loved this song.”

You stayed silent, letting the moment slip away as she became lost in the tune. Natasha's expression contorted with pain as the song finished and the group moved on, but made no move to leave. Without hesitation, you clasped her hand tightly, guiding her away and back in the direction of the city.

You both walked in silence the entire way home.

⊹♡

The next time you saw Natasha was the following weekend when she came over for a sleepover. You could tell the temperature had dropped even more just by the state you found her in at your door. You could only see her eyes. She was wearing your beanie again, with a scarf wound tightly around her neck and the exposed parts of her face. She carried a mismatched tote bag that practically bursted at the seams, the telltale sign of someone who couldn’t quite decide what to pack.

She’d never slept over before.

Well, purposely.

Later that night, in the cozy warmth of your kitchen, you began pulling out ingredients for gingerbread cookies, demanding the taller woman come stand beside you once her ‘bones were warm enough.’ Natasha remained perched on a stool, her favourite mug clasped in her hands, watching you with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk.

"Our first sleepover. And you’re putting me to work? At this hour? I almost died coming over to see you.” She teased, glancing at the clock.

It’s nearly midnight.

"It’s time for midnight gingerbread.” You replied, beaming as you tied an apron around your waist. "It’s a tradition now."

Now?" She echoed, laughing. "This is literally the first time we’re doing this."

"Exactly, that’s how traditions start."

Natasha rolled her eyes but hopped off the stool to join you, muttering under her breath about wishing she had froze to death on the way over before tugging at your apron strings like a mischievous child, pushing you slightly away from your spot so she could fill it.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The process was chaotic from the start. Natasha’s never baked before, and it showed. The first mishap happened when she cracked an egg with a little too much enthusiasm, sending yolk sliding across the counter. And from then, she managed to do nothing correct without your assistance. You were halfway through laughing when she retaliated by flicking a bit of flour at your cheek.

"Did you just—"

Before you could finish, she grinned devilish and dropped more flour over your head, “oh no, looks like you’ve got a little something there.”

Again, the process was chaotic.

Precision measuring gave way to messy improvisation as flour flew through the air in clouds of white. Natasha was unrelenting, chasing you around the island with a bag of powdered sugar like it’s a weapon. By the time you called a truce, the counters, the floor, and both of you were completely dusted with flour. "You look ridiculous.” You said, laughing so hard your sides ached. She wiped a streak of flour off her nose and smeared it onto your shirt. “Speak for yourself. You look like you’ve never seen the sun before.”

When you finally managed to clean up enough to resume baking, Natasha was benched to mixing the dough— far far away from the flour— but it took her all of ten seconds to abandon the spatula and dig in with her hands. “Are you sure this is hygienic?” She asked, grinning as she squished the dough between her fingers like it’s Play-Doh.

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t know what Play-Doh is.

"Absolutely not.” You replied, shaking your head. But neither of you cared. Somehow, The batter never even made it to the oven. After a mutual taste test—"for quality control," Natasha insisted upon —you realised you (she) had eaten most of it. "So, we’re out of ingredients." You admitted, licking a stray smear of molasses from your thumb. Natasha plopped down on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets with a satisfied sigh. “Good.” She said, licking a bit of dough off her finger. “The batter’s better anyway.” You sat beside her, the warmth of the oven lingering even though you never used it. The kitchen was a mess, the cookies a total failure, but none of it mattered.

You both fell asleep that night with the biggest smiles on your face.

⊹♡

Natasha ended up staying the next weekend too. Christmas fell on a Sunday, the big day seemed to sneak up on both of you, but for now, it was Christmas Eve, and the night stretched on, timeless and unhurried. After watching a few Christmas movies, the two of you found yourselves curled up in front of your fireplace — the fireplace being a YouTube video on loop coming from your television. The crackling flames painted your surroundings in shifting shadows, the room bathed in a burnt orange haze that made everything feel a little softer, a little more intimate. Natasha’s arms were wrapped securely around you, her presence grounding and warm. You hummed an old carol you heard once before under your breath, a lullaby that filled the quiet. Her hand traced lazy circles on your back, her fingers light but steady, as though she was trying to etch the moment into her memory. You watched her, unable to help yourself. The way the firelight kissed her skin, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the peace in her expression— how rare it was to see her like this. Truly at ease. Vulnerable, but not guarded. You wanted to hold this moment forever, to preserve it for her in the way she deserved, and selfishly for yourself.

Falling for Natasha wasn’t difficult. From the beginning of the friendship, there was a constant undercurrent, a slow burn that never fully ignited, yet refused to fade. You fell in love with her so suddenly—in the quiet moments—that you couldn’t figure out when she became more to you than just a friend. Or if she was ever just that. And over the past year, you’d learned there was so much more to her than the cold, unyielding exterior she presented to the world. No one loved as much as she did. And now, as you sat basically on her lap, the space between both impossibly vast and unbearably close, you realised that falling for Natasha wasn’t just easy—it was inevitable.

“This is what Christmas is supposed to feel like.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, like a thought she hadn’t meant to say aloud. As if she didn’t want to disturb the silence. Her gaze was distant, yet there was a softness in her tone that made your chest burn. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before they could fully form. “You miss her.” You finally said. It wasn’t quite a question, but Natasha understood. Her eyes flickered to yours, that same vulnerability reflecting through. “I always miss her.” She admitted, her voice even quieter now, almost fragile. She didn’t need to say Yelena’s name; you knew. “It’s strange… even after all these years, I still expect her to be here sometimes. Like she’ll just walk in, scolding me for not keeping the lights on all day or dragging me out of the house to help on her latest conquest.”

Your heart cried out with something deep and tender, the kind of feeling no words could ever quite capture. “I’ve got something for you.” She looked at you, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity as you stood and walked to the Christmas tree. From beneath its branches, you retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box and brought it back to her—one of many gifts you’ve bought for her. “This was supposed to be for tomorrow,” you said, sitting down beside her again, “but I think it’ll mean more tonight.” She took the gift, her fingers brushing against yours briefly before she began unwrapping it. Beneath the paper was a small music box, its pearl-coloured sides adorned with golden, intricate carvings. She opened the lid, revealing a tiny engraving inside: the words “My Light” in Russian reside underneath a picture of Yelena in her youth, dressed as an angel for a school nativity play, her beaming smile radiant and full of life.

Natasha’s breath caught, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edges of the engraving. “How did you—” she began, her voice breaking.

“You have to twist the key, Nat.” You said softly, closing the lid of the box.

She turned the key, the lid opening to reveal her younger sister all over again; as the music box began to play a gentle melody. But it wasn’t just music—it was a recording, faint but unmistakable hidden under the notes. The sound of Yelena’s voice filled the room, singing “Silent Night” with all the enthusiasm a child could muster for the slow song. Natasha’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears streamed freely down her face as the recording picked up another voice. It was quieter, steadier, but unmistakably hers. A younger version of her sang along with Yelena, their voices blending, only broken by their shared giggles as they sang together, sometimes stumbling over the lyrics. Her shoulders shook as she listened, and you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She clung to you, her face buried against your neck, her tears damp against your skin, as sobs rocked her slender frame. You held her tightly, wishing you could somehow ease the weight of her grief and the bittersweet joy of this moment.

Her lips trembled as she tried to form words in the broke of your neck. “This…this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t even know how you did this—” She pulled away from you to glance back at the music box, her fingers delicately tracing the engraved picture of Yelena. “She was my everything. The only good thing I had for so long – moya sestra (my sister), moy malen'kiy svet (my little light.)”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know. And now you have her again, even if it’s just a little piece.” Natasha set the music box down carefully, as though it were made of glass. She leaned forward, confident in her actions, in her love for you—a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

She had never kissed you before.

She wanted to again.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned in, kissing her once again, the taste of salt comforting. “You deserve everything good in this world,” you said softly, stroking the remnants of her tears, “and you deserve love, Nat. I’ll promise I’ll remind you of that every day.”

You placed a delicate hand over her heart and spoke, “I see you. And in this light of yours, I see her.”

She kissed you again, softer and longer than the last, her lips brushing yours; fuelled behind every emotion, every feeling, every part of her heart that now belonged to you, “Thank you for giving her back to me.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray red curl away from her face. "I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering, for as long as I can. To remind you there’s always light to find, even in the darkest nights."

She leaned in, resting her forehead gently against yours. "You already have."

You smiled, brushing a stray red curl from her face. “I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering for as long as I can. And to remind you of her light. With you. With Yelena.”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing gently against yours. “You already have.”

[jejewonster]

Tag, You're It.

he chased me and he wouldn't stop. tag, you're it 𖥔. ˖ ࣪𓂃 

⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  pairing: l.sm x f!reader ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  genre: smut, dubcon (MDNI 18+ only)

⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  wc: 3,090

— seokmin abhors your clear distaste for him. and he’ll do just about anything to change that. ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  smut tags & warnings: DUBCON, somnophilia, deflowering, corruption kink, oral (reader), creampie, multiple positions, mating press. slightly yandere!seokmin, reader is a lightweight and gets drunk easily. narcisstic!seokmin, reader is 'drugged’ by seokmin, if i have missed any warnings please let me know. ⊹ ִ۪ ֗ ּ ۫ ִ  a/n: read my guidelines. please do not take these warnings lightly. don't like, don't read, and feel free to block me if this isn't your cup of tea. thank u to @sunniques for beta-reading ♡.

seokmin has spent his life playing the good boy role, hiding behind the facade of someone well-liked, kind, and attentive. everyone knows him for his charming persona, everyone is in love with him. 

except you. 

he didn’t understand your clear disdain for him. you had always done everything in your power to avoid him. the more you ran away, the more it intrigued him. 

the first time he laid his eyes on you, he wasn’t sure what to think. you were obviously attractive and a little shy, but your beauty was not something that could be described so simply. 

the more he tried to interact with you, to get to know you the more you pushed him away. leaving group conversations mid-sentence, sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall… you were too obvious. 

seokmin hates when he cannot control how people perceive him. he needs to fulfill the expectations he had set: the perfect man. and if you didn’t fall for it, then he would just have to take matters into his own hands. 

…

his plan is simple— or at least simple enough for him to execute without getting caught. 

it’s the end of midterms, and your classmate somehow was able to convince you to join in on the group hangout. sat in the very corner of the booth, you looked around with eyes reminiscent of a newborn fawn. wide-eyed and just so lost. 

seokmin can help with that. 

“hey, anyone down to do a round of shots?” he asks the group, looking around to find everyone humming in agreement. 

boring holes into your figure, he sees that you’re the only one who seems reluctant to take a drink. well, seokmin can’t have that. 

you were quite the people pleaser, something he found out through his observations. it can’t be that hard to get you to at least take one shot. 

“are you not drinking?” your only acquaintance out of the group asks. 

turning to look at her, you shrug your shoulders. 

you didn’t have a ride home tonight, but you didn’t live too far. if you somehow find a way to stay sober, it won’t be too hard to slip out without anyone noticing. 

“i think i’ll pass, gotta walk home later,” your voice is meek, but your friend can’t help but frown. 

she shakes your shoulder as if attempting to pull you out of a trance. 

“c’mon! just one? we’re all here to celebrate!” she continues to push. 

filled with uncertainty, you reluctantly agree to her demands. it might be the only way she shuts up. 

sighing, you give in. “fine. just one. i’m too much of a lightweight though, so after that, i’m done.” 

a cheer erupts from her mouth, satisfied in being able to convince you to “let loose” for once. 

you don’t even know how you even got here in the first place. and you definitely didn’t think seokmin would be joining either. but now that you’re sitting there, in the corner of the booth, you know there’s no way to escape him now. 

it’s not that you hated him. god, no. you just had a bad feeling about his persona. it was almost like he was too nice. you weren’t sure what had your intuition swaying the moment you laid your eyes on him, but you simply can’t shake the eerie feeling that he gives off. 

“shots are here!” seokmin announces, handing everyone a glass. his charming smile practically blinds you, but anyone who isn’t entranced by him can see the dark energy behind his gaze. 

the way his smile never reaches his eyes, no matter how hard he tries. it had shivers running down your spine. who is the real lee seokmin? 

by the time there’s one shot remaining, your eyes meet. heartbeat drumming incessantly in your chest, you watch as his eyes piece through your very being. 

“you gonna take it?” he asks you. 

the breath in your throat is caught. this is probably the first time he’s ever spoken directly to you, and it has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. 

“u-uh sure? why not?” you chuckle nervously before grabbing the glass out of his hand. 

placing the rim of the shot glass to your lips, you swallow the alcohol without a second thought. seokmin’s eyes burn into your soul as you swallow every last drop. you weren’t sure why he was observing you so intensely, but you tried your best not to think too much about it. 

… 

an hour passes and seokmin continues to keep his undivided attention on you. the shot glass he gave you was stronger than the rest, and he could only hope that’s all he needed to do to get you pliant for him. 

your eyes are glossed over, staring into the distance. even in a drunken state you’re still so quiet. he can only wonder how loud you might get once he gets the chance to fuck you. 

“you doing okay?” seokmin asks as he slips into the empty space beside you. 

everyone else at your table is too drunk or too busy to even pay attention to either you or seokmin. he can’t help but congratulate himself inside his mind, everything always works out in his favour. 

“yeah, just feeling tired. i-i think i should go home,” you mumble. 

exiting through the other side of the booth, the side seokmin wasn’t sitting on, you tumble out of the cramped space with clumsy steps. 

you’re on the verge of falling over, so seokmin quickly steadies you, grabbing your waist with lightning speed. the blush on your cheeks is obvious, both from embarrassment and the little alcohol you had taken. 

his face inches towards yours, the same ominous smile on his lips. 

“let me give you a ride. it’s not safe to walk alone this late at night.” 

… 

seokmin snatches the keys from your bag, your body slumped against his side as he unlocks your front door. with ragged breaths against his neck,  his arm is wrapped tightly around your waist. 

the alcohol is doing wonders. 

you were practically in and out of consciousness. seokmin had no idea it would have this much of an effect on you. Even though you did seem like a lightweight, he was assuming you were able to take more than one shot. obviously, his assumptions were very wrong. 

the effects of the alcohol should be wearing off soon, but that didn’t matter to seokmin anymore. he had you in his clutches and he has no plans to let you go. 

without wasting another second, he makes his way to your bedroom. opening and closing each door until he’s found your safe space. 

the last door down the hall by the bathroom. your room is cute, typical for someone of your age. several manga line the shelves of your bookcase, but he has no interest in indulging in your hobbies. not when you look absolutely ravishing under the moonlight that peeks through your curtains. 

your eyes are closed as you snuggle into his side. he can feel you twitch every so often, breaths shallow and warm. 

laying you onto your mattress, seokmin doesn’t waste any more of his time. his cock straining against his pants at the very thought of you taking him in every possible way that he’s been imagining. 

you flip onto the bed, your brows furrowing from all the sudden movement, but your eyes stay shut despite all the commotion. seokmin is unbelievably hard now, to the point his cock pulses at the sight of you. 

the sinister smile on his face intensifies, staring down at you as you stir in your drunken state. laying there, you stir in your vulnerability like a mere fawn waiting to be hunted like prey. everything had fallen into place so easily, it’s almost like you were destined to get your cunt fucked by him. 

seokmin’s hands roam your body with deliberate fervour, squeezing your thighs till they quiver open ever so slightly. his nails imprint your skin with half-moon-shaped marks. how did he get so lucky?

the whimper you let out resonates in his eardrums, clearly the drink he gave you was just enough that you’re at least reacting to his touch. 

“bet you taste like a fucking dream,” seokmin whispers. 

whether you register his words at all doesn’t matter to him. he just wants you as his little cock sleeve. to fuck, to cum into, everything. seokmin fantasizes about a time when you’ve become so pliant to his wishes, bouncing on his cock and taking everything he gives you. 

his nose trails along your inner thigh, inhaling your scent until he’s face to face with the wet patch staining the cloth of your lacy thong. only a complete slut would be turned on over something so simple. with a deep inhale, he gets one last whiff of your sweet nectar before he dives in. 

tearing your panties with calculated movements, seokmin mouths at your pussy, making out with the folds of your delicious cunt till your slick drips from his chin. the juices that flow from your hole show just how much you truly are enjoying this. how could you not? seokmin is the perfect guy for you. 

a little shove and you’ve fallen right into his trap. 

there’s one hand gripping at your thigh, while the other starts to ascend to the peak between your legs. his fingers prod at your entrance, sticking two digits in before curling them inside you. seokmin groans against your skin, the squelches that emit from you cause his cock to twitch even more than before.

a few seconds pass until seokmin is satisfied with the defilement of your virgin hole. agile fingers crawl towards the notches in his belt, unbuckling the leather from his waist until his pants plop towards the hardwood. 

as if on cue, your eyes snap open, although that's the least of seokmin’s worries. if anything, your sudden consciousness has turned his night into a great one. 

“oh. you’re awake,” he grins down at your half-naked body, tongue shooting out to lick his lips. 

“w-what are you doing here?” your voice wavers, eyes wide and filled with fear. your thighs clamp shut as you feel the cool breeze gust against your bare pussy.  

seokmin chuckles, his figure brooding over your defenceless body, cock exposed, long and standing proud; ready for you to take without a complaint. one of his large palms grazes against your knees until they force your legs open again. 

“you invited me here.” 

“no? i would never…” you trail off, but the past few hours were all a blur. 

as you try to recall this past night, your memory falls short. the last thing that arises from your mind is the cold rim of a shot glass brushing against your lips. 

your worst nightmare doesn’t dare speak, waiting for you to finally realize that situation you’ve been put in. parallel to a debilitated sheep in the hands of a ravenous wolf, you’re left to die in his hands. 

fuck everyone. fuck your classmate for peer pressuring you to drink that damn shot, and especially fuck seokmin for taking advantage of you. 

“fuck you,” you spit out, but your mind is still swimming. the alcohol had affected you more than you’d like. 

the thought of even trying to defend yourself only leaves you feeling sick. dazed and confused, you lie beneath him in utter despair. 

“you will, and just know i’ll make it worth your while,” seokmin leans down, lips sweeping over yours. “you’re quite the lightweight. couldn’t even take a second shot before you’re begging me to take you home.” 

the pulse in your veins intensifies, the heartbeat drumming within your chest could probably pierce your flesh till blood splatters against your torso. 

“be a good girl, yeah? your pussy is already soaking,” seokmin whispers in your ear, licking right underneath it sensually. 

your breath hitches and he smiles against your neck. his hands grip your thighs once more, his tip prodding against your folds. your body is on fire, it shouldn’t feel this good. 

“w-wait,” you whimper. 

“i think i’ve waited long enough, you’re already prepped, i made sure.” seokmin grumbles before leaning back to sheath his hard cock inside you. 

it all happens without a second to spare; you’re completely filled. the hilt of his dick presses against your pelvis, and seokmin groans into your ear. his eyes roll back as he becomes suffocated in your heat. rutting against you, he relishes in the way your walls squeeze him. nothing beats an untouched pussy waiting to be stuffed to the brim. 

“you’re gonna cut my dick off, that’s how tight you are,” seokmin grunts. 

the palms of his hands slide to the underside of your thighs, forcing your legs flush against your chest. 

“p-please. i don’t want this,” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

seokmin doesn’t even acknowledge your useless pleas. instead, he continues to ram his length into you, and you can’t ignore the pleasure that comes along with his malicious undoing. 

your stomach caves in as he trails kisses along your neck. this shouldn’t be happening, especially to you, but as he continues to fuck you, your mind begins to reel. this shouldn’t feel good, but there’s something about the way his balls smack against your ass that leaves you panting. 

“s-seokmin, fuck, i can’t,” you purse your lips, but your attempts to stay silent fail. 

“keep talking, baby, wanna hear you beg for it,” seokmin shudders. every time he speaks, your pussy clenches even harder. the juices that coat his dick and the snap of his hips fill his ears like a symphony. 

“i don't want this, please,” but your moans say otherwise. 

“pretending you don’t want me to fuck you just makes my cock harder,” he chuckles while releasing you from his hold. 

he sits down on your bed before forcing you onto his lap. lining himself up with your entrance, he tightens his hold on your hips before bouncing you on his cock. you squeak at the new position, not prepared to have him force you into even more pleasure. 

“i-i can’t,” you cry out, hiding your head in the dip of his shoulder.��

“you talk a lot for someone who’s absolutely soaking,” he jeers, slapping your ass till your hole sucks him in entirely, “you’re dripping on me, too. tell me, are you secretly enjoying this?” 

you choke out a pathetic ‘no’ but seokmin doesn’t believe it. instead, he lifts the sweater covering your chest until you’re completely naked. the sudden temperature change has your nipples pebbling over in seconds. letting go of your hips, he swallows your left tit, tongue swirling against the erect bud. 

as he sucks on your left boob, he keeps his other hand in place, groping the meat of your ass till hand marks litter your skin. 

your mind is still glazed over— from the alcohol or the sheer pleasure you’re receiving, you’re unsure at this point. but something deep within you forces you to continue bouncing on his lap. the tip of his cock poking at your cervix and the pain of his girth bruises your pussy, but the knot in your stomach is starting to unravel. 

“seokmin, please, it’s too much,” you whimper once again, breath hot against his neck. 

“you feeling tired, princess?” his tone is filled with faux concern. 

seokmin is brimming with satisfaction. not only does he have you in his clutches, but you’re clearly succumbing to the undeniable spark of lust between you. 

“just make the feeling go away, feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you cry, unsure of whether you should be embarrassed by how much you’re secretly enjoying the way his dick is piercing you or the fact that you can’t stop the unusual build-up in your stomach. 

“you wanna cum for me, baby? it’s okay, just let it go,” unlatching from your tits, he smirks before capturing your lips into a zealous lip lock. 

the bed creaks beneath the two of you, the mattress moving up and down as your hips continue to hump against his member. 

“it feels good,” you sigh as you pull away from his plush lips. 

there’s regret in your decision to unveil your true feelings, but it has become so hard to ignore. 

seokmin is glowing with triumph, observing the way your lidded eyes exude with desire. pants leave your mouth, the redness from your cheeks trickling down to your neck. he can’t let go of you after this. he won't. 

“the faster you go, the faster this is over,” he informs you, hoping it will coerce you into riding him like a bitch in heat. 

“o-okay, i’ll try,” your voice wobbles, your hands moving to his shoulders to ground yourself. 

lifting yourself up, you slam back down onto his cock. seokmin’s brows are strewn as he attempts to savour the feeling of your pussy rubbing against his length. then you speed up, speeding up your movements until the sounds of skin and skin echo within your bedroom. 

“f-fuck, i’m gonna cum,” seokmin’s voice strains, his dick starts to twitch within your velvety cunt. 

you moan out, your eyes screwed shut. the funny feeling in your stomach snaps like a strained rubber band. the abnormal sensation flows throughout your limbs, but it’s so satisfying at the same time. 

then it comes, the spurt of semen filling your hole. he holds you tight against him as his hips stutter, the warm liquid hitting your walls until you're completely stuffed. 

you’re panting against his muscular chest, breath ragged while sweat drips from your forehead. realization hits you seconds later and you’re jumping off seokmin’s lap. 

“you need to go,” you mutter, not able to meet his eyes. 

the clothes are scattered on the floor and you make haste as you pluck your sweater near the foot of your bed. it shouldn’t matter that it felt good to have him inside you, but the thought of him fucking you against can’t help cross your mind. 

“i could go. but why should i? that pussy of yours is mine now,” seokmin shrugs nonchalantly before standing from the bed to dress himself. 

a sense of dread wreaks havoc inside you, your heart plummeting to the floor. this whole situation has you feeling powerless, but you can’t deny the spark that seokmin had lit inside you. 

“expect me to come over when i need my dick sucked, okay?” 

[therantsofawriterrr]

buckys first time since the 40s? smut with reader, he cums embarrassingly fast and reader has to console him and she tells him she thought it was hot….

Ok so my first smut req. Thanks anon. Y'all know the drill, 18+ only, MDNI pls. Smut and warnings under the cut. If you don't like this stuff, just don't read it, thanks.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, ya filthy animals), creampie, mentions of fingering, dirty talk and dumbification if you squint, tell me in the comments if i missed anything

A/N: First time writing smut, sorry for any tense mistakes. I get confused with those. Also, this ain't proofread, so pardon any mistakes.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ok so, in my mind, Bucky's kinda composed about it at first. Y'all have been dating for a long time and you both are finally ready to go to the next base.

But as soon as he sees you in your underwear, your breaths getting deeper and heavier as you see him in his, he feels himself get so hard so fast, his mind finally picking up the fact that he hadn't gotten laid since the 40s.

His body already had the memo, begging for a release, making him want to just sink into you and let himself loose.

Even as he got you naked, laying down on top of you, holding himself up, he tries to keep himself in line. Even as he sinks his fingers into you, whispering praises into your ear, he feels his cock strain against the fabric of his boxers. His voice is breathy and needy, not that you noticed, your mind flooded with pleasure.

"So pretty for me, baby."

"Just like that, doll, be loud, no need to hide those noises, yeah? It's just us."

"Good God, you're heavenly. So tight and so wet. It's all for me, isn't it?"

And when he finally sinks into you, he still keeps himself composed. Inch by inch, he works through it, as his mind goes blank every time he gets deeper. When he's finally in, though, he couldn't help but rut into you. He didn't start thrusting just yet, waiting for your permission.

You'd moan and whine for him to move properly, to fuck you properly and he would. He'd be long gone as he'd pound into you, groaning into your neck and marking the pretty skin. He'd lavish your nipples with attention as he'd try to hold back, to not flood your insides with his cum.

But finally, he was a man who hadn't had a proper release for more than a hundred years. In a few thrusts, he ended up, arching his back, groaning as he came, as spurts after spurts of cum filled you up.

He'd keep his face buried in your neck as you both panted. Too embarrassed to even look at you. He couldn't even wait for you to finish.

"Bucky," you'd whisper, kissing the side of his forehead. "Baby, it's alright."

"I'm sorry, doll," he' say, his voice muffled. "I couldn't hold back. I should've but-'

"No, hey, listen to me," you'd say, urging him to look at you. "It's fine. I understand. And to be honest..."

His eyes would light up with curiosity as he'd see you blush, his hand brushing away the few strands of hair sticking to your cheek. "What, baby? Tell me."

"It was kinda hot," you'd murmur, your hand fiddling with the dog tags hanging around his neck. "Like, really hot."

Immediately, a smug grin would appear, his prior embarrassment and guilt being washed away. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You'd whisper. "It's hot knowing that I did that to you."

"Hmm, baby," he'd say, bringing his mouth to your ear, starting to thrust into you again. "You have no idea what you do to me."

And he'd stare at your face as it twisted in pleasure, this time hell-bent on making you clench around him like a vice before he gives you another load.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[alygator77]

♬♪ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : beat of my heart ♬♪

♬ pairing. college au // drummer! gojo x psychology major! reader (f)

♬ summary. being a psychology major with a passion for music, you're no stranger to chaos—between juggling school, caring for your mother, and working at a local music shop, you've learned to keep your cool. but when a cocky drummer pushes your patience to the limit, a chance encounter with satoru gojo—an enigmatic, sharp-tongued musician—turns your world upside down. as you're drawn to his dangerous charm, an unexpected connection deepens, but so do the secrets you've both been running from. will you get caught up in his rhythm before you realize it’s too late?

♬ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, slow burn, smut, angst with comfort, some fluff, readers mom has dementia, mentions of suicide, alcohol/weed usage, unresolved trauma, commitment issues

♬ words: 7.3k

♬ a/n. hi lovelies, welcome to the debut of this fic :) very excited to explore this dynamic between satoru and y/n, thanks for reading ♡

♬ taglist: open

series masterlist ♬ next chapter → pending...

ch 1 // the first measure

“Emotional regulation is defined as the process by which individuals influence the emotions they experience, when they experience them, and how they express them in response to different stimuli.”

Staring at the neatly printed words in your psychology textbook, your mind automatically begins to dissect the concept.

Emotional regulation. The holy grail of human behavior, wrapped neatly in clinical terms. It’s the ability to keep yourself in check, to craft a perfect mask that hides what’s boiling beneath the surface. The world only gets to see what you allow. If it were as easy as the textbook made it sound, half your classes wouldn’t exist.

Letting out a breath, you sink deeper into your chair.

People aren’t simple equations you can balance, after all—people are… complicated.

Emotions, even more so.

They ebb and flow like unpredictable tides, swelling when you least expect them, crashing down when you think you’ve regained control. They are messy, stubborn, and relentless—especially when the brain stops following its own rules.

Your mothers face comes to mind—uninvited. Her once-bright eyes are now dull with confusion, emotions flickering in and out like static on a broken TV. Dementia has stolen the filter that once kept her reactions in line with reality. It’s as if her mind is betraying her, one piece at a time.

You press your fingers against the pages of the textbook. Will any amount of psychology truly prepare you to untangle the complexities of the human mind? Can it allow you to help her—or at least understand her—before she’s lost entirely?

Before you can sink further into that thought, an ear-splitting crash reverberates through the store, jolting you back into the present. Glancing up with a sigh, the peaceful hum of the music store is shattered by the clumsy cacophony of someone abusing a drum kit like it owes him money.

Clearly, emotional regulation isn’t on that guy’s radar.

Yet, somehow, you’ve grown used to it. Working part-time here has taught you how to tune out chaos, as if the dissonance of the store has become its own kind of background music.

It’s chaotic, but it’s your kind of chaos.

The strings of guitars being tested, the pounding of drum kits, the chattering of customers—it all blends into a rhythm you no longer notice.

You’ve been working part-time in this quaint little music shop for so long that silence has become unsettling. If it’s too quiet, your mind starts wandering, spiraling into places you don’t always want to go. And so, the chaos is your anchor—it helps you focus, keeps you present.

Studying in silence feels foreign.

“Ugh… I have such a headache,” Utahime’s voice breaks through your thoughts, her hand pressing to her temple. Standing a few feet away, she shoots a glare towards the drum section. “He’s been at it for practically an hour now. Like… come on. Is he trying to destroy that kit or learn how to play it?”

Glancing up from your textbook, you eyes land on a brawny guy with jet-black hair, slamming away on the drums with no sense of rhythm, no control—just brute force.

“Has it really been that long?” you ask, blinking at the scene. The noise had faded into the background for you, becoming just another layer of the store’s soundtrack.

Utahime gives you a look that screams disbelief.

“You didn’t notice?”

You shrug.

“Guess I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“Tch… wish I could do that,” she rolls her eyes, rubbing her temples like the sound is physically burrowing into her skull. “That guy is killing me.”

Oh, shit. Now that your attention is focused, you notice just how bad it really is. It’s not just noise—it’s borderline offensive to music. He’s not even playing the drums—he’s assaulting them—completely unaware of the sonic devastation he’s unleashing on the store.

Utahime lets out another long, exasperated groan, her entire body sagging as she leans forward in defeat.

“I swear, if he keeps going, I’m going to snap,” her elbows rest on the counter, and she presses her forehead into her hands. “y/nnnn,” she whines, lifting her head just enough to glimpse at you. “Can you please do something?”

Glancing around the store, you catch the irritated looks of other customers—one guy near the synthesizers is glaring openly at the drummer, his hand gripping a set of headphones so tightly you half expect him to snap them in half.

It’s like the whole store is holding its breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to make it stop.

A sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook. It’s one thing to tune out the chaos when you’re focused on studying, but now that you’re paying attention, the noise feels like an assault on your senses too. You can’t blame Utahime for losing her patience—though she’s never been one to take matters into her own hands.

“Fine, I’ll handle it,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from your seat.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, finally peeling her hands away from her temples. “Please, work your magic. Before we all go deaf.”

You roll your eyes internally, though you can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Magic. Sure—that’s one way to put it.

What Utahime calls ‘magic’ is really just years of learning how to manage other people’s shit without losing your cool.

It’s not magic—it’s survival. A skill you’ve honed out of necessity, not desire. And sure, maybe your love for psychology helps—you’ve got the theories to back up the practice—but most days it feels more like wrangling toddlers who never learned how to grow up.

Taking a steady breath, you step into the fray, weaving through the store’s labyrinth of instruments and displays. As you get closer, the vibrations from the drums rattle through your bones, crawling up your spine. The sound is unbearable, like nails on a chalkboard amplified through a megaphone.

The guy doesn’t even look up, his head bent low over the drum kit, raven hair falling in messy strands across his forehead. His arms move with the rhythm of someone who has no idea what rhythm actually is, and the muscles in his forearms ripple with each heavy-handed strike as he slams the sticks down like he’s personally offended by the drums.

You stand off to the side for a moment, watching him have at it. You’ve dealt with a lot of difficult people working here, but this guy? He’s so oblivious to the fact that the rest of the store is on the verge of mutiny.

Clearing your throat, you raise your voice, hoping to break through his focus.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

Another crash of the cymbals, loud enough to rattle your skull. Your jaw tightens as you try again, this time louder.

“Excuuuuse me!”

Still nothing. He’s completely in his own world, bashing away with reckless abandon. It’s like he’s in a vacuum, utterly disconnected from the chaos he’s creating around him.

Jesus this guy… your patience thins and you step closer—close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him from his overexertion. His shirt clings to his back with sweat, and the muscles in his arms continue to ripple with each reckless swing of the drumsticks.

He’s not just playing hard—he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.

As you reach out to tap his shoulder, you try to keep your touch firm but not aggressive, although, the moment your fingers make contact with him, his entire body jerks—drumsticks freezing mid-air as he whips his head around to face you.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and filled with a flicker of annoyance.

“What?” he snaps, voice dripping with irritation.

Keeping your expression neutral, you try not to let his attitude get to you.

“You’ve been at this for a while,” you begin, as calm as you can manage. “We have a limited selection and there are other customers who may be wanting to try this kit.”

His eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed.

“So?” he drawls, waving the drumsticks lazily, like your request is beneath him.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you press your lips together in protest. Stay professional, you remind yourself. Shifting your weight slightly, you square your shoulders and look him directly in the eyes.

“So,” you continue, voice firmer this time, “store policy is thirty minutes per instrument. You’ve been playing for over an hour.”

A low, sarcastic laugh bubbles from his chest, the sound filled with mockery as he tilts his head back slightly.

“And… what are you gonna do about it?” leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees like he's settling for a show—eyes glimmering with amusement as his lips curl into a smirk. “Throw me out?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek—every fiber of your being is itching to knock this guy down a peg.

Ugh. What a tool.

The condescension in his voice grates on you like sandpaper, but you force yourself to stay composed.

“Look…store policy is pretty clear,” you reply evenly, nodding towards the sign behind the counter. “You either give someone else a turn, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Your words seem to pique his interest—his smirk widens, eyes flicking over you slowly, appraisingly. Suddenly you’re more interesting to him than this drum set. He pushes himself off the stool in a slow, deliberate movement, and you hold your breath the moment he towers over you.

He’s by no means, a small guy.

The light behind him is blocked from his broad shoulders, and there’s a new edge to his gaze now. The moment he invades your space, it is just a little too close for comfort.

“Oh yeah?” your stomach turns from the low suggestive timber of his voice, “And what if I don’t feel like leaving, sweetheart? You gonna make me?”

Ick.

This guy might take the cake for being the most difficult prick you’ve had to deal with here, and that’s saying something. Working in this music shop, you’ve come across a lot of full of themselves wannabees, praising themselves like the next big thing—acting like God’s gift to music when all they want to play over and over again is ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ and ‘Wonderwall.’

A surge of discomfort ripples through your body, but you stand your ground. You know how this goes—he wants a reaction, and you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“Look dude, I’m not asking,” your tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. “This is your last warning”

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, and a low whistle escapes his lips, as if he’s impressed—but it’s the kind of faux admiration that makes your skin crawl.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he muses, chuckling softly.

Leaning in, the heat of his breath brushes against your skin as he invades your space once again—far too close for comfort—and you feel his gaze sweep over you slowly, lingering in a way that feels slimy and unwelcome.

“I like a girl with a little fire,” he adds, voice dropping lower. “It always makes things more fun.”

Gross.

Your hands curl into fists by your sides and you fight the urge to recoil as a surge of revulsion twists through you like a knife.

But before you can respond—before you even have the chance to formulate the sharp retort already forming on your tongue—the air shifts and a new voice cuts in.

“Wow, did I just walk in on the world’s worst pickup line, or are we about to throw hands over a drum kit?”

Turning your head towards the source of the voice, your eyes land on a tall figure standing a few feet away—his hair is a striking shade of snowy white, messy and untamed, falling in tousled strands that almost brush against the black sunglasses obscuring his eyes, and even with his face partially hidden, there’s no mistaking the mischievous glint tugging at the corners of his mouth—like he’s watching the scene unfold for his own amusement.

Despite the casual nature of his appearance—jeans slung low, a loose-fitting hoodie—there’s something undeniably striking about him. It’s the kind of presence that demands attention without asking for it

Who the hell is this guy?

Clearly irritated by the interruption, the drummer straightens up—his smirk faltering as he sizes up the newcomer.

“This doesn’t concern you, man,” he growls, tight with irritation. “I’m just having a little conversation with her.”

The snowy stranger’s grin turns sharp, though his voice remains light.

“Yeeeah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” he steps up beside you, and without hesitation, his arm slips around your waist, pulling you smoothly into his side like you’ve always belonged there. “Everything concerning her concerns me.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the sudden, possessive gesture. Part of you bristles at the boldness, but another part… feels oddly safe in his grasp—like he’s been by your side forever.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere as the drummer's eyes narrow—like the balance of power has tipped—the presence of this stranger throwing him off.

“Oh really? And just who the hell are you?” he snaps.

Your mysterious stranger doesn’t miss a beat—he chuckles softly, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his eyes—brilliant, vivid blue, and gleaming with a spark that teeters between playful and dangerous. It’s the kind of look that makes your heart flip.

“Oh, me?” he feigns innocence with a nonchalant shrug, like this whole thing is just mildly amusing to him. “I’m nobody special.”

Sliding his sunglasses back into place, he casually pulls you in a bit closer, and you are met with the warmth of his body as he leans into you just slightly.

“Just here to make sure my girl doesn’t have to deal with assholes. Y’know how it is.”

Your mind scrambles to catch up.

Your girl? You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks as the words rolling off his tongue begin to register. You barely know this guy—hell, you don’t know him at all—and yet here he is, acting like the two of you are something.

But…maybe it’s working? Because the drummer’s eyes narrow further, his expression twisting as a furrow darkens over his features. Ah…but then you realize he’s not focused on the claim your stranger just made—no, his attention is locked on a different word entirely.

“Asshole?” he echoes, voice rising with indignation, practically spitting the word back. Clenching his fists, he steps forward with a scowl twisting upon you face. “You calling me an asshole?”

“Well, yeah,” your stranger remarks casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs again, utterly unfazed by the tension mounting between them. “When the shoe fits…I mean, you’re acting like one, aren’t you?”

Pure rage flashes across the drummer’s face, and you can visibly see his fists trembling slightly.

Uhh… on second thought, is this guy even helping?

Now you’re not so sure if your so-called rescuer is making things better or worse, because clearly, the drummer is on the verge of snapping.

“You better watch your mouth man,” the drummer snarls, fury simmering beneath the surface.

But the stranger’s grin only widens, and he exudes a confidence that makes it clear he’s not worried in the slightest.

“Heh. That’s a warning I get a lot,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “But y’know what? I don’t usually listen.”

It's a wonder the drumsticks the drummer is fisting haven't cracked under pressure, given how tightly he clenches them—his knuckles turn white.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls through gritted teeth.

A low hum rumbles against your strangers’ lips as he ponders the question thoughtfully.

“I mean, I’ve been told I’m pretty hilarious,” he scratches the back of his head, like he’s seriously considering the statement, then, glancing at you, his eyes gleam with amusement as his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose slightly.

“Whatcha think babe? Am I funny?”

The question—and that pet name—catches you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But the drummer isn’t interested in the little game your stranger seems to be playing. His jaw clenches—teeth grinding audibly as his face hardens into something feral.

“I’m about two seconds away from wiping that stupid grin off your face,” he spits, taking another aggressive step forward.

Fucking hell, is a fight really about to break out at your work?

Your pulse quickens, and for a split second, you think he might actually swing at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the stranger says, still grinning like none of this phases him.

He releases his hold on your waist and steps forward with a smooth, almost lazy movement, placing himself between you and the drummer. His hands slip casually into his pockets, posture relaxed, but the air around him shifts.

“Let’s pump the brakes, big guy,” he tilts his head slightly, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “You’re welcome to try. But I’ll tell ya right now—” his teasing lilt diminishes, replaced by something colder, more commanding, “you’re not gonna like how it ends.”

His words—a warning and a challenge wrapped in one—hang heavy, and for a moment it feels like the entire store is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next. Glancing around, you notice a few customers watching the scene unfold.

Fucking hell—this has gone from bad to worse.

And yet…the drummer doesn’t swing. He doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch.

He’s seething—rage evident in the set of his jaw, the clenched fists at his sides—but something about the stranger’s calm, unwavering demeanor is throwing him off balance. It’s almost impressive, really.

No, scratch that—it is impressive.

You misjudged this guy. He might have walked in here like a cocky troublemaker, throwing out cheesy one-liners and pushing your buttons, but now? Now, he’s cool under pressure, defusing a situation that could’ve easily escalated into violence.

Body language often says more than words ever could, and his is completely in control—relaxed, hands in his pockets, not a single muscle tensed for a fight, yet there’s a sharpness beneath the surface—an unspoken control that demands attention.

It’s brilliant in a way. He’s defusing the threat without lifting a finger—a textbook example of how to manage tension without aggression. This guy is winning a psychological game the drummer doesn’t even realize he’s playing.

Their silent standoff stretches, until finally, the stranger breaks the silence with his smooth and almost disarmingly casual voice.

“Look, man,” he shrugs one shoulder with a nonchalance that seems almost practiced. “This is me giving you a chance to walk away with your dignity intact.” Tilting his head slightly, he gestures toward you with a subtle nod. “She asked you politely to stop. This is a store, not your personal garage. So maybe it’s time you pack it up and go before you make things worse.”

There’s a moment—a pause that feels like it stretches just a beat too long—where you can practically see the drummer’s gears turning in his head, weighing his options, trying to hold onto whatever’s left of his bravado.

Then, finally, he mutters through gritted teeth,

“Whatever.”

The word is spat out, dripping with frustration and barely-contained rage, and with a sharp movement, he tosses the drumsticks onto the kit—the wooden sticks clattering against the drums in a final act of defiance.

“You’re not worth it, and this place sucks anyway,” he mutters, full of aggravation, but his heart no longer in it—it’s clear his fight has deflated.

Turning sharply on his heel, he shoves past both you and the stranger with a forceful shoulder, storming toward the exit, and once the door slams shut behind him, the sound reverberates through the store with an unmistakable finality.

Just like that, the tension breaks. It’s like the whole store exhales at once—the weight lifting from the air as the distant murmur of customers resumes.

Before you can fully process what just happened, the stranger beside you turns his attention back to you.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarks, “Could’ve gone worse though. I mean, I didn’t even get to throw a punch. Talk about anti-climactic, huh?”

You barely manage to take a breath as he closes the space between you just a little more, his movements slow and intentional, and your heart flutters the moment his sunglasses slip down slightly, just enough for you to get a direct glimpse of his eyes. They lock onto yours—those bright, vivid blues—and for a second, everything else around you fades into the background.

“Seriously though,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You okay?”

There’s something undeniably genuine in his tone, something that cuts through the playful exterior and lands right in your chest. You weren’t expecting that—this tenderness from someone who moments ago had brushed off a near-fight like it was nothing.

His eyes—soft but still burning with intensity—hold yours captive, and for a second, you forget how to speak.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage, “I think so.”

“Good,” he says with a nod, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Because I think you owe me a ‘thank you’ for that stellar rescue.”

You blink out of incredulity.

Thank you?

So much for tender—who does this guy think he is? You nearly scoff aloud. He wants a 'thank you' for a rescue that, truthfully, you weren’t even sure you needed?

Unsure whether you’re amused or annoyed by his arrogance, you open your mouth to respond—but before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a wink.

“Kidding,” he says with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Always happy to help.” His hands settle into his pockets and he pauses, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Especially when it means I get to rescue a pretty girl like you.”

The compliment lands harder than you’d care to admit as you feel the warmth creeping up your neck and into your cheeks—betraying the fact that—against your better judgment—you’re not entirely immune to his charm.

A flicker of something stirs in your chest…

—nope. Let’s not go there.

Pushing it down before it can grow into something more, you refuse to let that feeling root itself.

You’re not looking for attention, especially not from a guy like this—a guy who flashes a cocky grin like he knows it works. The kind of guy who acts like the world bends to his whims.

Romance? No thanks. You’ve got bigger things to focus on. He’s exactly the kind of distraction you don’t need.

“Rescue might be a strong word,” you mutter, finally finding your voice again as you cross your arms over your chest. “I had it under control… mostly.”

“Oh, you did? My bad,” leaning in slightly, his voice lowers as if sharing a secret. “But trust me, that guy? He was one wrong word away from turning this into a full-on disaster. You’re lucky I stepped in when I did.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at his comment, refusing to let him rattle you this time, and there’s a flicker of amusement creeping into your voice as you challenge him.

“Lucky, huh? So, what now? You expecting a medal or something?”

His grin widens—a grin that’s undeniably magnetic, but you resist being pulled into its orbit.

“Naaaah, I’m not that high maintenance,” straightening himself, he regards you with a slight tilt of the head. “But… I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off by his response.

Did he just… ask you out?

“Wait, what?” you stammer, not quite sure you heard him right.

“A coffee,” he repeats smoothly. “Y’know, like a reward for my heroic efforts.” He pauses, just long enough to make it clear he’s toying with you. “Or is that too forward? I can settle for your number instead.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips—a sharp exhale that’s part disbelief, part amusement. This guy is unbelievable.

Nope. You’re not going to let him get to you that easily.

“I don’t even know your name,” you shoot back, lifting your chin just a little higher, “and you’re already angling for a reward?”

“Ouch, y/n,” he replies, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as if you’ve wounded him deeply—his grin, however, never falters. “That stings.”

You stare at him, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“How do you…?”

“How do I know your name?” he finishes for you, clearly enjoying this a little too much. He tilts his head. “Well, for starters, your nametag.”

Oh.

You glance down quickly and—of course—there it is, printed neatly on the tag pinned to your shirt, and now you are mentally kicking yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Right… of course,” you shake your head in mild embarrassment. It’s infuriating how easily he’s messing with you.

An amused chuckle dances on his lips and he leans back ever so slightly—hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world.

“But that’s not the only reason I know you,” he adds, voice taking on a more playful tone, almost like he’s daring you to figure it out. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”

You blink, trying to piece together where you might’ve seen him before. There’s something vaguely familiar about his voice…have you heard it before? Do you know him?

“I don’t…” you start, trailing off, searching for any spark of recognition, but you come up blank. “Uhh… should I?”

Flashing you a toothy smile, he's clearly delighted by your confusion.

“Ouch again. Double whammy,” with a dramatic sigh, he shakes his head in mock disappointment as his crooked grin curves up. “I guess I’m not as memorable as I thought.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his theatrics, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips do too. Ugh. You want to be irritated with him but somehow, he makes it incredibly hard to be.

“Right… well,” tilting your head, your voice dips with playful sarcasm, “maybe if you told me your name, it might jog my memory?”

With a soft chuckle, he slides his sunglasses off and rests them on top of his head, and just like that, you’re greeted with the full, unobstructed view of his eyes—striking, electric blue, so vivid they almost don’t seem real, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

“Satoru,” he says smoothly, as if his name alone should be enough to make everything click. “Gojo Satoru.”

The name floats in your mind, like it’s circling around something, but still, nothing concrete surfaces. He seems so confident—so sure that you should know who he is—and it only adds to your frustration.

Do you know him?

Generally, you keep to yourself, both at work and on campus—with your moms condition you don’t really have time for the exciting college life. Tilting your head, your eyes narrow as you study his face—surely, you would have remembered someone like him... wouldn’t you?

“Gojo Satoru…” you test the name on your tongue as if saying it aloud might unlock some hidden memory. But still—nothing. “Sorry, not ringing any bells.”

Satoru laughs again, rich and unbothered, like this is the highlight of his day.

“Wow, I’m really striking out today,” he shakes his head in mock dismay. “I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Before you can muster a response, he reaches out casually, plucking a pair of drumsticks from an endcap display nearby, twirling them between his fingers like it’s second nature. He examines them for a moment, then looks back at you with a raised brow.

“So, since we’re here and I’m feeling generous… how about you check me out?”

You glance down at the drumsticks in his hand, then back up at him—his expression is unreadable, that signature smirk lingering as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“...you mean ring up the drumsticks, right?” you clarify, though your voice is uncertain.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” he murmurs, and then, with a sly wink, he adds, “But I don’t mind if you do both.”

For a beat, your breath hitches, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

Okay—this is guy is definitely a flirt. You’re not falling for his trap.

“Wow… you’re really not subtle, are you?” reaching out, you snatch the drumsticks from his hand. “How many women actually fall for that?” you turn on your heel towards the counter, and he follows in step.

“Hmm…I’m not exactly keeping score,” he admits. “But let’s just say I don’t hear too many complaints.”

Glancing back at him, you arch an eyebrow as you approach the register—fingers automatically moving to unlock your cash drawer, and he leans casually against the counter beside you, propping his elbow on it—like he owns the space.

“Will say though,” he adds, voice dipping lower, “I don’t usually have to try this hard. You’re pretty special.”

You scoff, your fingers hesitating slightly over the keys, though you refuse to let him see how his words make a tiny flutter bloom in your chest.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you mutter under your breath, trying—and failing—to focus solely on the transaction.

Satoru hums, watching you with that same playful gleam in his eyes.

“Nah,” his tone drops to something almost conspiratorial, “you’re definitely one of a kind.”

Yup. He’s a smooth talker—and without a doubt, bad news.

Pressing your lips together, you force your gaze to remain on the screen in front of you. He’s playing a game, and you’re determined not to lose.

As you scan the barcode on the drumsticks, he casually pulls out his wallet to pay, and that’s when something catches your eye—a student ID peeking out from the clear pocket inside his wallet.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, your fingers hover mid-air as you get a better look. The ID is familiar—yet you can't make out the school’s name plastered right across it, but the logo and the colors are unmistakable.

Wait a second…

“We go to the same school?”

Satoru looks up, his grin stretching even wider and the glimmer in his eyes practically daring you to catch up—he’s been waiting for this moment.

“Took ya long enough,” he teases, playful but with a hint of smugness. “Yeah, we do.”

You blink, the pieces clicking together a little too late.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you demand, unable to stop the half-accusatory, half-embarrassed tone that underlines your voice. A groan slips past your lips and you shake your head in frustration. “I swear…you’ve been messing with me this whole time.”

With an amused chuckles, Satoru lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug.

“Hey, it’s more fun this way,” he leans in a little closer, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “Besides,” he pauses, tilting his head just slightly while his lips curve into a sly grin. “I like watching you piece things together. You’ve got this cute little furrow in your brow when you’re thinking hard.”

The intensity in his eyes makes your breath hitch, and no matter how hard you resist, there’s that undeniable flutter in your chest, warm and unwanted.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation back onto safer ground.

“Oof. You’re killing me, y/n. I pass by you every day, actually.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes.

“Every day? Where?”

“The water fountain,” he says smoothly, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically, just a light touch. “Y’know, where you sit and study. Every afternoon, without fail. I walk by almost every day.”

Ah. That’s why his voice must’ve sounded familiar. You probably heard him—another voice blending into the background while you were studying.

“Really? Guess I never noticed you.”

Resting his chin in his hand, a dramatic huff falls from Satoru's lips as they form into a pout.

“Jeez…you don’t quit. I can’t believe I’m that forgettable.”

You can’t resist the soft laugh that escapes you, despite yourself—it’s hard not to find his antics at least a little amusing, and though you’d never admit it, the way he’s so desperate for your attention is almost… cute.

“Maybe you just blend into the background too much,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow while extending your hand, silently gesturing for his payment.

“Ouch...” he winces dramatically, pulling out his card before placing it in your hand. “Okay, that one stung a little.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sure your ego will recover,” you quip, glancing up briefly before focusing back on the transaction. But there’s a brief pause as you swipe his card—a silence that suddenly feels charged with something else.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, heavy and expectant, and you try your hardest not to give in to the pull to look at him again—but the heat of his attention is unmistakable, almost like a gravitational force pulling you in, and you can feel your pulse quicken under his scrutiny.

“I gotta say, you’ve got a sharp tongue—I like it,” he murmurs.

Your fingers freeze for just a second, your breath hitching slightly as his tone shifts, and you can’t resist—your eyes flick up and he holds your gaze captive yet again.

“But it’s a bad habit, y’know,” he continues, his voice dropping, growing more intent as his eyes flicker over your features. “Not being aware of your surroundings like that...” leaning in just a fraction, his words become a quiet murmur between the two of you. “What if some creep tried to take advantage of you?”

The gentleness in his demeanor… is he genuinely concerned? It’s hard to tell—harder than you’d like to admit—and it’s easier to convince yourself he isn’t—that this is all part of his charming routine, because that makes it easier to ignore the subtle pull he has on you.

“Well,” you keep your voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest, “lucky for me, no one’s tried. Unless…” tilting your head slightly, a teasing smirk tugs at your lips, “you’re secretly admitting to being a creep.”

Satoru’s laugh spills out, rich and warm, breaking the moment just enough for you to catch your breath.

“Nah, I’m not creep,” his voice lightens as he straightens up just a little. “Just a concerned citizen looking out for someone who’s too absorbed in her textbooks to notice the world around her.”

You huff, though the corners of your mouth twitch upward against your will.

“I can handle myself, thank you very much,” you quip back, determined to maintain control over the situation. In a quick, defiant motion, you grab the receipt and shove it into his hand, a small victorious gesture.

“Right, right. You definitely proved that today when I swooped in for the rescue,” he teases, and his hand brushes yours ever so briefly as he takes the receipt—a touch so light is sends a tiny spark up your arm. “But hey, what if you don’t show up at the fountain one day? I’m gonna have to file a missing person’s report.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

“A missing person’s report? Seriously?” you roll your eyes.

“Yup,” he grins, emphasizing the ‘p’. “You’re there so often it’s practically routine. Same spot. Same time. Every day. It’s kinda predictable, y/n. If I don’t see you there one day, I’ll just assume some creep finally got to you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you can’t help the faint heat rising in your cheeks.

“Predictable?” you retort, trying to sound indignant. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you are,” he counters, clearly reveling in your reaction as he slips the receipt in his pocket. “But hey, that’s not a bad thing. It makes you easier to find if you ever disappear.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, a snappy reply ready on your tongue, but he’s already raising his hands with a dramatic flair, like he’s about to paint the scene in vivid detail.

“I can see it now: ‘Missing: Cute girl who spends way too much time by the water fountain. Last seen buried in a psychology textbook. Answers to y/n.’”

It’s impossible not to laugh again, the sound bubbling up as you watch him weave his ridiculous scenario with such confidence and flair. His eyes flick to yours, and a satisfied grin tugs at the corner of his mouth—clearly pleased with the effect he’s having on you.

“Wow,” you manage between chuckles. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement, leaning slightly closer. “Gotta be prepared. I don’t want anything happening to my favorite water fountain girl.”

Your heart flips—and for a second, it feels like he’s given you some kind of title you didn’t realize you wanted. You try to brush it off, to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks, but it’s not so easy with the way he’s looking at you.

“Riiiight… well, lucky for you,” you manage, attempting to sound nonchalant, “I’m not planning on disappearing anytime soon.”

“Good,” he murmurs, low and smooth. “Because I’d miss seeing you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the upper hand, though the small smile that tugs at your lips betrays you.

“Uh-huh. Sure you would.”

There’s a brief moment, just the two of you—his gaze still locked onto yours, when—

“Ahem.”

You jump slightly at the sound, turning to see Utahime standing beside you, arms crossed, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She gives you a look—a very knowing look—that sends heat rushing to your cheeks all over again.

“I’m taking my break,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes dancing with mischief as they flick between you and Satoru. “So… don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of the tension in the air, you swallow hard and offer her a tight smile.

“No promises,” Satoru quips, that cocky grin returning to his face as he leans against the counter slightly—clearly unfazed by the interruption.

After Utahime saunters off, he continues smoothly, picking up right where he left off.

“So...” he starts again, “What do you say? How about you give me your number? Just in case I need it, y’know, for emergencies.”

He’s relentless, isn’t he?

Heat creeps up your neck as you blink from his boldness—with a soft, incredulous laugh, you desperately try to find your footing again.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

That familiar and confident gleam glistens in his eyes as his grin widens.

“Not when it comes to someone as interesting as you.”

There’s a flicker of something in your chest—a flutter that you’re quick to squash.

“Mmm… sorry,” you murmur, tone sweet but firm. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of disappointment. I’m really not interested in players.”

For the briefest moment, his grin falters, and something unreadable flashes behind his eyes—a momentary crack in his facade. It’s so quick, so subtle, that you almost miss it. But there’s just enough time to wonder if maybe you hit a nerve.

Still, Satoru recovers in an instant, his playful charm sliding back into place like nothing happened.

“That’s cold, y/n,” his voice light and teasing, though there’s a trace of something deeper, almost wounded, lurking beneath. “You really think I’m that kind of guy?”

Tilting your head slightly, you cross your arms over your chest as you study him—gaze sharp but not unkind.

“Yeah, well, I’ve met enough guys like you to know how this works.”

With a soft chuckle, and a smooth, almost lazy motion, he lowers his sunglasses from where they’re perched atop his head—resting them back on the bridge of his nose as the dark lenses now obscure his eyes from you.

He’s hiding behind them—letting them do the work of shielding his real thoughts. Huh. Typical behavior for someone who enjoys the chase but avoids real vulnerability.

“You’re quick to judge. I’m just a guy who knows what he wants. And right now? I just want your number.”

Classic deflection—you think. He’s not even denying it. Still... something about the way he says it makes that familiar flutter stir in your chest, and you hate it.

“Yeah... that’s not happening,” crossing your arms more tightly, you try to maintain control of the situation.

His hands come up in mock surrender as a small, amused sigh slips from his lips.

“Bummer,” he concedes, though there’s no real disappointment in his tone, only amusement. “But hey,” he picks up the drumsticks from the counter, “offer’s on the table if you ever change your mind.”

“Right... I’ll keep that in mind,” you dryly reply, knowing full well that you won’t.

“Please do,” he shoots back with that infuriatingly confident grin. “Besides, I’ll be seeing you around, water fountain girl.”

The familiar nickname brings an unwanted warmth that you attempt to shake off.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Gojo.”

But Satoru just steps back toward the door, exuding that same unshakeable confidence. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he says with a cocky smirk. “You’re predictable, remember? I know exactly where to find you.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but before you can, he’s already halfway out the door, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers with effortless ease.

“See ya around, y/n,” he calls over his shoulder, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft jingle before you even have a chance to respond.

And just like that, the store feels quiet again, as if the air shifted back to normal now that he’s gone. You stand there for a moment, blinking at the closed door. You should feel relieved that he’s gone, that the exchange is over, but instead, you’re left with this strange, restless feeling you can’t quite shake.

What the hell just happened?

Shaking your head, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. There’s a part of you that’s frustrated—frustrated at how easily he slipped under your skin, how effortlessly he managed to unsettle you with nothing but a grin and a few flirtatious remarks.

You hate that you’re even thinking about it. About him. He’s just another guy with too much confidence for his own good.

But something about the brief crack in his facade sticks with you. That fleeting moment where his grin faltered, and something else—something almost vulnerable—flickered behind those cocky blue eyes.

What was that?

With another shake of your head, you push the thought aside. He’s a flirt. A player. The kind of guy who never takes anything seriously.

That’s all there is to it.

You don’t have time to psychoanalyze every flippant guy who crosses your path, even if there’s a part of you that’s still curious.

Just as you’re about to shake off the thoughts entirely, your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, glancing down at the screen.

Kyoko: Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know your mom's been having a rough day today. She’s more confused than usual, keeps asking for you. Maybe you could visit soon?”

Reality crashes back in—grounding you in the weight of your responsibilities.

With a sigh, you run a hand through your hair, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

You: Thanks for the update, Aunt Kyoko. My shift is almost over, I’ll be home soon.

Focus. There’s no room for distractions—not right now.

Not with Satoru Gojo. Not with anyone.

a/n. thanks for reading the debut of bomh (or i guess the re-debut since this is a rewrite? hehe). i'm excited to explore a lot of topics in this fic, and rewriting it definitely helped rekindle my passion for this story. so, i'm looking forward with whats to come! hope ya'll enjoyed 💕 → you are currently all caught up ♪

taglist:

@gojoslefttoenail @satoryaa @ninjaturtletoes @murtabuckz @sorcerersseestars

@reagan707 @sakurasimppp @sugxryratz @tkyemfk @lovelyjkook

@lovebittenbyevans @kaemaybae @bloopsstuff

[strang3lov3]

Downpour

Jack offers you a ride home, pulls over to wait out the storm, and fucks you. (4k)

Tags - smut, fingering, oral (f! receiving) hand jobs, unprotected piv, infidelity (Jack is married still), dirty talk, pet names (darling, sweetie, sweetheart, dear), unspecified age gap, kissing, finger sucking, bit of comeplay/come eating, reader has a bush but is otherwise undescribed #bushnation, Jack is all sweet and tender but kinda pervy too, i've headcannoned that mr. delroy is a man who comes a lot. like just so much come. references to late night with the devil but this fic can be understood without watching the movie, I write car sex uniquely in that I am not bound by physics or logic or any bullshit like that. So it’s like a Mary Poppins bag in there. Lots of room for fucking. No, don’t ask questions. Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Fic Help - @noxturnalpascal thanks for your help sweetheart ♡ i love you forever A/N - the David Dastmalchian brain worms infected me months ago and have not let me rest, so here’s this. Car sex with an older and married Jack Delroy.

I feel a little nervous about writing Jack, as I feel with all characters that are new to me. It takes me some time to find my groove. Kind comments would be appreciated 💕 maybe a prompt or two in the inbox for me to play around with if you wanna see more of him 🙏

  As Night Owls comes to a close for the evening, and laughter and chatter begin to fade out, you busy yourself tidying up your station. Cleaning your makeup brushes, packing away your supplies for the weekend. You watch the television in your room and see Jack waving goodbye, shaking audience members’ hands. He’s so handsome tonight. He’s handsome every night.

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on Night Owls for about a year now. It’s a job you kind of stumbled your way into. You had won a raffle ticket to watch Night Owls live show. You were so excited to go and yet you don’t even remember who the guest was that night. You went alone, and found yourself charmed by the show’s host, Jack Delroy. While on commercial break, while the television crew changed the set, you noticed Jack glancing at you as you touched up your makeup, fidgeting and tapping his foot. You offered him a kind smile, and he approached you. 

“Jack Delroy,” he said, holding out his hand. You took it, and he kissed the backs of your fingertips. Starstruck, you giggled and gave him your name, tripping over the syllables. “Beautiful name, darling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy.” 

Jack held your hand longer than what was appropriate. Realizing this, he quickly dropped it. “So, I apologize, but I'm about to be very forward. Gosh, this is very embarrassing,” he laughed awkwardly, then scratched the back of his neck. “I get a little oily in the face. The lights, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have like, a…” he trailed off, stuttering as he tried to find the right words.

You smiled and held up a finger, then dug through your makeup bag for some Mary Kay Beauty Blotter sheets your friend had given you. “Here.” You held the pack sheets out for the handsome talk show host. “Would these help?”

Jack took the sheets from you and inspected them. 

“And this,” you added, handing him your mirror compact. “You just press one of the sheets against your skin.” 

Jack grinned kindly, then took one of the small sheets and pressed it on his forehead and his long, gorgeous nose. “You are a lifesaver,” he said. “There. This is much better. I’m almost as pretty as you now, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your lap to hide your smile. 

“Apologies, I’ve been told I'm a chronic flirt.” 

“I don’t really mind,” you told him softly.

Jack pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded, then sat in the empty seat next to you. “Alright,” he said, “This is an odd question,  but I’d like to toss it out there anyway because you seem to know what you’re doing with this kind of stuff. We’re short a makeup artist here at Night Owls. It’s unorthodox, I know, but you wouldn’t happen to be interested in–”

You gasp. “I’d love to. Yes.”

“--Being our makeup artist,” Jack finished, chuckling at your excitement. 

“Sorry, I just - oh god, I’d really love to,” you gushed. Jack opened his mouth to speak further, but was called back to set. 

“Stick around after the show, will you?” Jack winked.

“I will, Mr. Delroy.” 

And that’s how it happened. The job was simple: A little powder here, moisturizer there, hairspray to seal it all off. Nothing complicated, and it paid well. Lots of perks and advantages, like meeting TV stars and music artists. You consider yourself lucky. 

Perhaps your favorite part of the job is getting Jack ready for his shows. You’re no stranger to his handsomeness, but it’s special to experience it the way you do. To wash his face, moisturize it, paint a little makeup on his skin - as if he even needs it. “Make sure you cover up my crows feet, please, darling,” Jack said, pointing to his perceived flaws in the mirror. “Gosh, I’m getting so old. Don’t get old.” 

“Noted,” you told him. 

“And my hair, could you use a bit of that makeup to cover up my grays? They look so much worse on the screen.” 

Your heart broke a little. He’s always asked you to cover his wrinkles, but covering his grays was new. You hate doing it. That’s your least favorite part of the job. 

“Oh, but they don’t look so bad, Mr. Delroy.” You combed your fingers through his hair, inspecting the silvery strands he complained about. They look so beautiful against the inky black rest of his hair.

“Jack,” he corrected. “Just Jack. Who says they don’t look so bad?”

“I um…” you hummed, nervously messing with his hair. “Just fans, some of your fans kind of like it.” 

“Do they, now?” Jack teased, his eyebrow cocked. He laughed at your bashfulness as you stuttered something in defense. So shy, so sweet.

Jack loves you all the same. He loves the special affection he gets from you as you get him ready each night, he loves getting to peek down your shirt. But he plays the gentlemanly act well, never going further than a little harmless flirting. It’s fun to make you squirm, tease you for your little crush on him. He’s not oblivious to it. 

When the Night Owls theme finally ends and the studio lights go out, you get a phone call at your station. You hold the receiver up to your ear. “Hello?” 

“It’s Shar,” the voice says. Sharon is your roommate, and also your ride to and from work most nights. She drops you off at the studio before her shift, then picks you up after the show ends each night. Tonight, however, she’s at a party. “I met this guy, and I wanna go home with him. So that means…” Sharon doesn’t finish the sentence. She sounds guilty. 

“But you’re my ride, Shar,” you complain. “And they’re saying it’ll rain. What am I gonna do?”

“I promise I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? Don’t be mad. You’re not mad.” 

“Sharon,” you groan. 

Sharon says your name. “Just listen - he’s so fucking hot, seriously. He’s like a movie star.”

“A movie star, huh?” 

“Don’t judge. Like you wouldn’t fuck Jack Delroy if you could. You know what, why don’t you ask him for a ride?” Sharon teases.

“No way, not happening. He’s married, and his wife is sick. Absolutely not.” 

“Pussy.” Sharon pauses. “If you really don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you.” 

“No, no. It’s fine. I can take the bus, I guess. But you owe me.”

“I do owe you,” Sharon says, “I owe you so much. I love you. Bye. Be safe.” 

“You be safe,” you quip. “Condoms.” 

Honestly, you’re not mad. Is it an inconvenience, sure. But Sharon works hard and deserves a nice night, and she’s right - you’d fuck your movie - television - star crush if you could too. You’ve taken the bus before, and it’s usually empty this time of night. It’ll be fine. 

You grab your purse, pull your knit cardigan over your torso and walk out of the studio, down the hall, then take the elevator down to the lobby. Through light rain, you walk down the street until you’re at a bus station, then sit down on the bench. A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, causing you to shiver and pull your cardigan tighter around your body as you wait for the bus. 

At least you don’t have to wait for long, though. Headlights approach, and the vehicle slows down. Except, it’s not the bus you were expecting. It’s a cerulean ‘74 Buick Electra, Jack’s car. He pulls over and leans across the seat to crank the window down. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for the bus,” you yell. Rain’s starting to come down harder, now, soaking your clothes. Jack makes a face and motions for you to get into his car. You wave him off, “It’s okay. It shouldn’t be much longer.” 

“Nonsense! Get in the car.” 

“It’s really okay, Mr. Delroy.”

Jack rolls his eyes. He gets out of his car and rounds the front of it, then takes your hand and pulls you up from the bench. “I’m not asking. I am telling you, as your boss, to get in my car.” 

Jack opens the passenger door and ushers you inside, then shuts your door and gets into the driver’s seat. “It’s supposed to be the storm of the century out there, and you’re gonna let it blow you right away. Crazy girl.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy,” you murmur sheepishly. 

Jack puts the car into first gear and takes off. “What’ve I told you about calling me Mr. Delroy? Jack, sweetie. Just Jack.” 

“I’m sorry, M- Jack.”

“Too sweet for your own good, you know that? Always so polite. Where am I taking you, sweetheart?”

“It’s a little bit far. You’re just gonna take this road for a while,” you instruct. “And then I’ll tell you where to turn. I’m not in the city proper.”

“Must be nice,” Jack replies. “Quiet.” 

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not usually. My roommate is kind of noisy.” 

Jack chuckles. “The roommate days, gosh. I don’t miss those a bit.” He pauses, thinks of something to say to fill the silence. “You don’t usually take the bus, do you?”

“Not usually, no,” you answer. “My roommate gives me a ride most of the time. But she ditched me tonight, so…” 

“That’s a real shame.” 

The rain starts to pick up a little more. Jack squints and at the road and increases the speed of his windshield wipers. He tries talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the drumming of rain against his car. Thunder booms, the drumming becomes louder and the windshield is nearly impossible to see out of. Jack has slowed the car down to a crawl, but when hail begins to fall from the sky, he pulls over. He shifts his car into neutral, then pulls the emergency brake to keep the car from rolling. Jack leans in close so you can hear him, “We’re just gonna wait out the storm, okay? It’s not safe to keep driving.” 

“Yeah, that seems smart,” you agree. You’re thankful Jack showed up when he did, and that he’s keeping you safe in his car. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint sound of music playing on his stereo. You still feel a little nervous, though. Maybe it’s the storm, or the jitters of being alone with Jack - older, married, handsome Jack. You shiver in your wet cardigan. 

“You’re cold,” Jack says. He tugs on your sweater, “Let’s get this off of you, huh? Not gonna let you catch a cold on my watch.” He peels the sweater off of you entirely, then lays it in his backseat. “And look, watch this–” Jack presses a button on his dashboard, a little orange light glows beneath the tiny image of a seat. Within a few seconds, the leather underneath you begins to warm. “Neat, huh? That should warm you up nicely.”

You still look cold, it’s evident in the way you hold yourself. Shoulders curled inward, hands clasped together. Jack thinks about holding you close, using his body to warm yours, but decides against it. You want it too, but you’ll never initiate touch. 

You look out of the raindrop-covered window at the creepy woods off to the side, the trees illuminated by the lightning. Jack sees the worry on your face reflected on the glass. “Everything alright, sweetie?”

“It’s just the woods,” you answer. “I don’t know. I don’t like it. I’ve heard about…I don’t know. Scary stuff happens there.”

“Like what?”

“Satanic rituals or something. The occult, that kind of stuff. I’ve heard about it on TV.”  

Jack lies to assure you, “It’s all make-belive,” he says, pushing down his own memories of The Grove. The sickly sweet smell of decaying leaves, sticks and branches crunching beneath his feet. The cold, metallic cup against his lips, that awful taste of whatever it is he drank. “But don’t look at the woods. Just look over here, right at me.” Jack turns your face toward his, then taps your nose. “There’s that beautiful smile.” 

You grin even wider. You know it’s just his nature, that it’s his job to be charming and likable, charismatic and sweet. It makes you feel so special and seen nonetheless. 

Jack smiles too. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He admires the details in your face for a minute, your perfect nose, sparkling eyes, your pretty lips. His eyes travel lower, tracing the endlessly beautiful curves of your body - breasts, waist, hips, thighs. There’s a rip up high on your nylons, just below your ridden-up skirt. He furrows his brows and touches your bare skin with his finger, “What happened here?”

“Oh.” You touch the tear with your finger, just a hair away from Jack’s. “My cat, Felix. He ripped my tights.” 

“Sounds like Felix is a real troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, he can be,” you giggle quietly. “But I love him anyway.” 

Jack keeps his finger on the hole in your nylons, now drawing lines back and forth over your thighs with the rest of his fingers. Little goosebumps erupt on your skin in their wake. “You’re still so cold, darling. What am I gonna do with you?” Another shrug, another shy smile. “Come here,” Jack whispers. He wraps his strong hands around your legs and pulls you across the seat so that your legs are lying across his, and your torso curled into his own. Fuck, he smells good. His cologne is musky and spicy and masculine. You’re so close, Jack can feel your heart pounding nervously. But he says nothing about it, doesn’t want to embarrass you. Instead, Jack just gazes at you warmly, still tracing patterns on your leg. “You’re such a gorgeous girl, have I ever told you that?”  He pushes a bit of your hair behind your ear, sending tingles down your neck and spine.

“Jack,” you whisper, elongating his name. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious, darling. If only I were a younger man…If I hadn’t married…” He moves his hand from your ear to your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip with his thumb. God, you’re so soft. Desire is building within Jack, taking control over his sensibilities. And you, too young and enchanted by Jack fucking Delroy to listen to any inhibitions in your head telling you that you should stop this.

 Jack pushes his thumb past your lips and you suck on it gently, so gently, the blunt little edges of your teeth tickling his fleshy skin. Arousal quickly builds in Jack, the sensation overwhelming him and bubbling over. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and holds your cheeks in both of his hands, inching closer to you bit by bit. Jack licks his lips, he’s about to do it. Finally, he does. Jack closes the gap between you by pressing his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He’s relaxed and controlled, but the way you kiss him is desperate and a little tentative. In time and with encouragement from Jack, how he squeezes you and growls against your lips, you find your confidence. You kiss him fervently, tasting him, savoring the softness of his tongue. 

Jack takes your hand and presses it against his warm bulge. You gasp, “But your wife–”

“Shh, quiet. She’s not here, now is she?” 

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No. It’s just us. You-” Jack unzips his pants and pulls his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He spits into your palm and has you hold his length, then closes his hand around yours. “-And me.” 

With your hand under Jack’s, he pumps his cock. “Oh, that’s good. You’re my good girl,” he breathes. 

Jack grips his cock tighter and kisses you again. “Oh, Jack,” you moan. Jack helps you to stroke him from base to tip, your pinky finger brushing against that patch of coarse hair at his pelvis, thumb rubbing over his weeping head. 

“Just like this, darling. All the way up, all the way down. Just like this. You’re doing so well.” 

Jack twitches in your hand as you feel every thick vein and ridge on his cock. He urges you to pump him faster and at the same time, touches you. He gropes your breasts first, breasts he’s dreamed of touching since he first laid eyes on you. He unbuttons your blouse and slides his hand beneath your bra to squeeze your flesh, tease your nipples. Jack relishes in your body, how supple, soft, warm and wanting you are. You touch him like you love him and Christ, Jack can’t wait to bury himself inside you. Feel that warm, wet embrace of a young woman’s cunt. 

“Do you let other men touch you like this, sweetheart?” Jack asks, unzipping your skirt and shoving his hand down the front of your nylons. He toys with the arousal-dampened hair that’s spattered on your mound, then slips his fingers past your lips. “Older men, huh? Married men?” 

“N-no, Jack. Just you. Only you.”

“Do you like being touched like this?” You stutter out a frantic, breathy ‘yes’. “Dirty girl. It’s always girls like you.” 

Jack circles your clit with his fingertips, then presses two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. “Distracted, are we?” he murmurs as your hand that strokes his cock slows to a still, so focused on how Jack pleasures you that you forget about his needs.

 “H - what?” Jack chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze to remind you. “Oh, I’m s - sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” God, you are such a precious girl, and Jack is a lucky man. He breaks away from you just for a moment to undress himself, shoving his pants down his thighs and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Once bare, Jack turns to you and finds that little tear in your nylons again, then rips the hole wider up the garment. He yanks the nylons and your panties off of your legs and puts them with the rest of his discarded clothes, tucking them away for later. He removes your skirt next, followed by your bra and your blouse. You breathe heavily as Jack takes in your naked form, even more beautiful than he pictured. He needs you now, needs to taste you.

Jack pushes you gently onto your back, laying you out across the bench seat before sinking to his knees on the floor of his Buick. He wraps his strong forearms around your still rain-cold thighs and pulls you close, close enough so that you can feel his hot breaths on your slick pussy. Jack could eat you alive right now.

He spits on your pussy, then rubs your folds with his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. He spreads your lips wide and admires your shiny, glistening center. “My, look at this mess,” Jack marvels, admiring your creamy arousal. He tastes you then, pressing a soft kiss against your core. Jack inhales deeply, taking in your scent, feeling your hair against his shaven face. His tongue darts from between his lips and he licks you up and down, dipping his tongue inside you. 

“Jack, oh my - yes,” you gasp, your hands tugging on his graying strands of black hair. Jack slowly licks a long stripe up your seam with his tongue flat against you, all the way from your asshole to clit. “Jack.”

The mess he’s reduced you to. All broken moans, desperate, needy cries of his name. Jack smiles against your cunt and continues licking and lapping at the sensitive part of you. He traces your folds, sucking them between his lips. He draws circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue next, driving you wild. “You like this, darling, don’t you? You like having this pretty pussy eaten?”

All you can do is nod. Jack closes his lips around your clit and sucks, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head and pull his hair tightly between your fingers. Jack forces you apart so that all you can do is take it, all that relentless, smoldering pleasure. 

Jack intensifies it all by pushing a finger inside you and curling it, stroking that sensitive part of you. Within seconds you’re coming, rocking your hips against his face as you ride out your high. 

There’s barely a comedown. Jack crawls over your body, one foot planted on the floor of the car and the other kneeling on the seat. He reaches behind the front seat for his suit jacket and bunches it up, then fits it between your head and the passenger door. “Don’t want your pretty little head to get hurt is all,” Jack says. 

He holds his cock between his thumb and his forefinger before he lines up with your entrance. His cock is big, perfectly lengthy and girthy. You tense up a bit as he fits his cockhead inside of you, “Easy, darling. Take it all for me,” he coos. 

You inhale deeply, and on your exhale Jack pushes himself inside of you in full. “Ohhh,” you moan. It’s such a tight fit, he fills you so fully. The aching burn of the stretch takes time to dissipate as Jack rubs your hip. After a moment, Jack pulls out of you, then inches his way back in. Your face previously scrunched in pain is now relaxed, soft little noises of pleasure escaping your lips. “That’s it, good girl,” Jack says. “Wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Jack laces his fingers between yours and uses his other hand to brace himself on the back of the car seat. Jack begins thrusting, not quite fucking you gently. It builds quickly, the pace both harder and faster. Jack rocks his hips into you at that perfect angle to have you writhing on his cock, the head of it kissing the most sensitive place inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, the hair on his chest tickling your face. 

“Fuck,” Jack grunts, fucking you deeper. He knows he should be more gentle than this, but he can’t be helped. He loses himself inside of you, growling like an animal as he fucks his cock into you. You’re squirming beneath him, muscles tensing against his as you begin to cry, overwhelmed by it all. “Such a filthy fucking girl, crying on my cock. You’re okay, sweetie.” 

Jack rolls his hips quickly and fluidly so that his pubic bone is grinding against your mound, the friction inching you closer and closer to a second release, but it isn’t quite enough. You rock your hips to match Jack’s thrusts, needing more against your clit. “M-More please, Jack,” you beg. “I wanna come, Jack, make me come again.”

While still fucking you, Jack spits onto two of his fingertips, then fits his hand between your bodies. He finds your sensitive bud and rubs it, using the momentum of his thrusts to bring you to climax once more. “Come for me, sweetheart. Give - fucking give it to me.”

Jack rounds your clit with his fingers, putting harder pressure against it. In moments, you’re coming for him again, this orgasm more intense than the last. Your moans are louder, more frantic. Your face scrunches in pleasure as you pulse around Jack’s cock, urging his own release along. “Good girl, good fucking girl.”

 Jack growls into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. He fills you with his come, so warm inside you, the throbbing of his cock so pleasurable and satisfying. Dampened with sweat, Jack presses his forehead against yours as he fucks you through his orgasm, then slows to a still. He hisses a little when he pulls out of your cunt, his spend dripping from your hole onto the leather. Jack collects this mess with his finger, then pushes the digit into your mouth as he catches his breath.

It’s all quiet, save for a few scattered raindrops and the sound of you and Jack both catching your breath. Jack breaks the silence. “Well hey, how about that. The storm passed, huh? Was really something, too. I’m glad we pulled over,” Jack laughs nervously. He helps you dress yourself as best as he can, then haphazardly dresses himself too. You smile a little, and Jack touches your face. “You alright, darling?”

“I’m okay,” you answer, still a little tearful. Jack smiles sympathetically and pulls you into his side, then shifts his car into gear. 

“Well, let’s get you home, then.” 

-

TY for reading! Comments, reblogs, all of that good stuff would be so appreciated ♡

[goldfades]

𝐓𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "But imagine paige bueckers with girlfriend who applied lip plumper. Like a tik tok prank" for @splash-candy

─ word count | 480

─ warnings | nothing but light language, teasing and a tiny kiss!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @boiliatfu and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOU PROPPED YOUR camera come on the car dash and watched as Paige enter the car with your drinks.

"Dude, the barista was so rude." Paige huffed as she handed you the drink, not noticing the camera that was recording the two of you.

You took the drink from her grip and smiled, trying to hide your amusement at Paige's irritation. "Really? What did they do?" you asked, taking a sip of your drink and glancing at the camera discreetly, making sure it was still recording.

Paige sighed, sinking into the passenger seat. "They just had this rude ass attitude, you know? Like they were doing me a favor by making my coffee like it's not their job."

You laughed as you sipped the coffee, nodding along sympathetically. "I'm sorry babe, but hey. They made the coffee really good, so that's a plus."

"I guess," Paige sighed as she got out her phone and checked the time. You got out your lip gloss from your purse, putting some on quickly as Paige watched you, a smile appearing on her face as she wet her lips slightly.

You caught Paige's smile in the corner of your eye and couldn't help but return it, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. "You like that shade?"

"Mhm," she responded as she kept her gaze on your lips.

You laughed, a blush creeping on your face. "Want some?" You puckered out your lips with a playful smirk, teasing Paige.

She leaned and gave you a quick kiss before you laughed into the kiss, unable to maintain your serious face. You glanced toward the camera with a laugh as Paige looked at you suspiciously as she leaned back into the driver's seat.

"Why are you acting so weird?" Paige asked as she gave you a side-eye, putting the car in drive as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"I'm not acting weird, baby." You replied casually as you bit your lip to suppress your laugh. A few moments pass and your lips began to sting, indicating the plumper had begun to work.

"Dude, what the fuck." She scrunched her nose as her lips began to sting and you couldn't help but burst into laughter at her reaction. "Did you put on that stupid lip plumper? Bro, my lips hurt," she whined as you rolled your eyes at her dramatic reaction.

"It's not that bad, P." You replied as you took out your phone to record Paige as she rolled her eyes, grabbing your phone playfully. "Come on, it's just a little tingle," you teased.

"Are you tryna make us a damn TikTok couple," she groaned as she gave you back your phone as you laughed at her reaction. "But if you post it, tag me."

"I'm sure everyone will know it's you, baby." You responded with a soft laugh, glancing back at your girlfriend.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[lyneira]

♡ How to earn the lion's love ♡

-> things you can do to make this lazy lion love you to the moon and back

leona x reader (fluff!)

check out malleus' version here! -> ♡ how to gain the dragon's affection ♡

Lull him to sleep!

Yes, I know he can easily fall asleep on his own already, but if you were there with him, he would sleep 10x better! Do anything to relax him. Let him rest his head on your lap, run your fingers through his smooth mane, or maybe even hum a soft tune and he will be at peace.

The first time you have him lay his head on your lap, he'll feel a bit tense. Sure, he's used to others doing things for him, but he's not used to being given such intimate affection. Assure him that it's okay to be this vulnerable. Though, you needn't say anything at all. Tell him by gently rubbing his temples, enveloping him with the warmth of your hands, and feel as he allows himself to let go as the weight of his head falls deeper into your lap. If he wakes up and sees you smiling tenderly down at him, he might immediately pop up off your lap. He'd do this, not because you startled him, but because his heart can't handle such a beautiful sight and he'd need to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

Shower him with compliments!

This guy has a lot of pride and an ego that needs to frequently be fed. Just do it, will ya? Treat him like the king he is because at home, they simply don't treat him right. But no flattering him! He'll get irritated by your insincerity (and he'll probably call you a bootlicker lol 💀) if you do.

Don't allow him to tell you "never mind" or "it doesn't matter" when it comes to talking about his feelings or his opinions!

Even if he says "it's a pain" to try to explain it and will stubbornly attempt to keep his mouth shut, be persistent in wanting to hear what he has to say! If you're far more stubborn than he is, he'll eventually let up. Again, back home, he has often been treated with disregard for being the second son, so do the opposite and go all out with it! Make him feel heard and his appreciation for you will skyrocket. The foreign feeling of opening up to someone may be weird to him, but if that someone is you, then it's a feeling he'd be willing to get used to.

Be appreciative and acknowledge his efforts!

He’ll probably shrug you off, saying that he only did it for his own selfish reasons and whatnot, but stand your ground! Deep down, it warms his heart that you see him, and that his accomplishments and efforts aren't going unnoticed. He might say that he doesn’t need your thanks. Even so, a little appreciation can’t hurt from time to time, can it? And it'll go a long way too. You’ll notice that he’ll be doing those things you've thanked him for more frequently. (He'll act kind enough when he's around you that Ruggie would be like, "Hey, y/n...what the heck have you done to Leona?!" 😨 lol)

Simply play chess with him!

It doesn't matter if you're good or bad at it, play his favorite game with him and he'll enjoy it either way. If you're skillful, his competitive spirit will come out and he'll be having a fun time going against you! No worries if you're bad at it, he's willing to teach you even though he'd be like 🙄 for most of the time. But as you eagerly listen and try to grasp the tactics he teaches you, he'll subtly smile to himself. He's secretly happy you're trying to spend time with him doing what he enjoys.

Also, attempt to make it a routine with him. In his mundane life of attending classes, give him something to look forward to, (which would be getting to play chess with you)

For most of his life, Leona has been overshadowed by his brother and has lost much motivation because of it. So let him know that you see him, that you hear him, that you appreciate him, and maybe he'll come to find one of those rare motivations. That, being you 😘

a/n: now that my posts are finally showing up in the tags, I'll continue this series on this blog instead of @ne-nene-ne ! That'll include any of my other writing as well!

I realize that I might honestly be more biased towards Leona because this one was longer than Malleus' 💀 (I love both boys tho, I swear)

As for the next victim, I'm thinking of doing Azul next! then maybe Idia too 🤔

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[strwbivy]

I LOVE your suga/kage fic so much!! It makes me so inspired to write!! <33 Anyways, can i request a daichi or maybe osamu fic where reader becomes their manager?? How they would react maybe?? Thank you in advance, hope this fits your standards!! <333

MANAGE MY HEART — DAICHI , OSAMU .ᐟ

synopsis. you unexpectedly become a manager of the roster. you were doing your job great. doing some organizing, and helping the members of the team when they take breaks, but taking his heart wasn't part of the job!

wc. 3.2k words | genre. fluffy | cw/tags. no warnings, no yachi au (sorry!), f!reader, tanaka + noya duo mischief, slow burnish, catching feelings, onigiri lover osamu, food stuff (*´꒳`*)

m.list // hq. masterlist

you've got mail ✉ ! hey anon i just wanna say tysm and omg i inspired you to write?? ACKK you flatter me sm!! anyways i tried to make a longer fic cause most of my fics are short so yea <33

leftover mail ✉ ! i'm still trying to figure out on how i should format my fics since i'm not sure on how to do so andd i kinda got lazy with osamu's part because i just really had to finish this.

a/n: just a heads up but the readers are in there second-year!

♡—SAWAMURA DAICHI ( 2,040 words , 11,263 chars )

kiyoko being in her third year of high school meaning, she's soon to retire from being a manager. therefore, she needs to find someone that will be able to manage the rowdy behavior of the team.

so then, she began her search for a possible candidate. hinata had give her a list of people who haven't joined any club, if it wasn't for hinata's assistance things would've taken much longer.

and as if the stars were aligned, you were searching for a club to join.

you were approached by a very beautiful girl, asking if you wanted to try out being a manager. and with no hesitance, you accepted the offer and she gave you some important papers and gave the date on when she'll introduce you, before leaving off with thank you.

even though kiyoko had only met you once, she knew you were the perfect one to run as manager. she just hopes that none of the other ehem.. teammates would make you run off.

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

the date of kiyoko introducing you has arrived. you sheepishly followed the manager from behind, feeling a tinge amount of nervousness but at the same time you felt excited because you were getting to experience new things.

once you both have finally reached the entrance of the volleyball gym, kiyoko's voice cut through the air, calling out to those who were engrossed with practicing. she came in the building and you followed in suite. and just a few moments after you entered the gym, you were immediately noticed and got a few people came up to you.

kiyoko then announced that you were going to try out as their manager. then of course you introduced yourself.

"hello! i am uh [name] and i will be trying to be a manager here, and i hope that i'll get along with you all!" you exclaimed, trying to hide slight unease in your voice.

a few people then took turns to introducing themselves to you.

you then started to initiate short conversations here and there. you were getting quite comfortable with everyone until you felt lasers burning the back of your head.

the slight unease made you slightly shiver. you slowly turned your head, only for you to see a bald-man and a shorter one with spiky black hair with a streak of blonde, were staring directly at you with piercing eyes.

you were immediately taken aback, you couldn't help but stare back at them with a weirded-out face.

at that moment, daichi was just talking to kiyoko about the 'new' manager. he was mid sentence until the duo's antics caught his eyes. he excused himself to kiyoko and marched over to the two.

he slowly crept up behind them, and pulled them by the collar at the of their shirts. a sigh is then pulled out of him before he spoke in a deep voice.

"you two! stop staring it's rude!" he states with a frowned expression on his face before he picked them up like a mother cat lifts her kittens, with ease but in a subtle harsh manner.

you dumbfoundedly watched the man pick them up and toss them aside. he lets out a disappointed sigh before turning back to you. daichi then approaches you.

"ahh.. i'm sorry about those two, they're always like that."

he apologizes, bowing his head in a gesture of contrition, while simultaneously scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. but of course as the great captain he is, he breaks through the awkwardness.

"so you're [name] right? i'm sawamura, daichi sawamura." he says, reaching out his hand for a handshake as a warm smile came to his face.

you let out a soft laughter before responding. "well it's nice to meet you sawamura!" you cheerfully say, while you took his hand and shook it well. he then declines the polite formalities with a firm shake of his head.

"there's no need for formalities, you can call me daichi." he says, observing your face as his hand parts ways with yours.

you then nod at him. "so daichi it is then!" you cheerily exclaimed, as you plastered on a big radiant smile that almost outshined the sun.

the way his name rolled of your tongue, has left him flustered. a sense of butterflies in his stomach grew, and the pace of his heart became a tinge faster. huh? that's odd. he thinks to himself, contemplating if it was just the large amount of coffee he consumed this morning.

or was it something else? or something new?

his eyes drifted over to you, and he realized he had been staring without meaning to. "daichi? are you okay?" you asked, having your brow raised. "w-what? o-oh! yea." he replies stuttering, finally being pulled out of his thoughts.

daichi pauses for a moment.

" i'm just.. confused. "

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

after almost one long week of getting convinced by a human tangerine, and attending practice matches, or just practice in general. you were finally confident of yourself to step up and be a manager of the team.

everyone felt happy of course, as they were already comfortable with you from the star.

while this was happening, daichi was starting to have a liking for you. but honestly who wouldn't? not only you had all the characteristics and requirements to be the perfect manager, but you yourself were an absolute delight.

you were well-organized, smart, beautiful, and you cared for each of the team's members even if you showed it an aggressive way it showed care. and the way you carried yourself has him getting more fond of you.

daichi and you, became quite close as days went by. every interaction between the two of you was delightful, and for some reason he feels an overwhelming desire to be closer to you. every time you come up to him happily blabbering, a sense of joy overcomes him. he would talk to you, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

he would try to say a joke, but it comes off corny. he brings his hand to lightly smack his face out of embarrassment, thinking you wouldn't laugh but unexpectedly he hears a soft giggle.

the embarrassed captain snaps his head to look at you, and he starts to giggle too. a faded-pink tint grew on his face.

but unbeknownst to the two of you, two certain third-years were observing from the side.

sugawara, almost immediately noticed on how daichi acted. he then nudges asahi, pointing to the giggling pair by forwarding his head.

" look asahi, i'm not the only one who's noticed it right? " the setter asked, having a slight smirk on his lips. " hm? oh them? yea of course who wouldn't? he's clearly acting odd. " asahi says, curiously putting his hand under his fuzzy chin as he closely peered to daichi's flushed expression.

as the day ends, daichi waves goodbye to you while you exit the building. daichi was staying a bit later in the court since he was the one who's gonna close the gym, and it just so happens the other third-years stayed late to wait for him.

after waving goodbye to you he turns around, only to be confronted by asahi and sugawara, who both had a smug expression.

"so you and [name] huh?" sugawara teasingly says, followed by quiet snickers from asahi. daichi retracted himself while he gave them a questioning look.

"what? what do you mean 'you' and '[name]' ?" he responds with tone that was mixed with confusion and suspicion.

sugawara then comes closer and walks around him until he reached where his ear was. he leans in and whispers something in his ear.

"tsk tsk, you're not good at hiding secrets captain." he utters in a low voice, causing for daichi to get startled. suga then goes back to asahi's side, while having an amused smile on his face. "ah.. eh.. daichi, it's kinda obvious." says the hair-bunned man, adding a nervous ha-ha at the end of his sentence, hoping daichi wouldn't get mad at him.

daichi's startled expression, is now replaced with a scowl. he folds his arms as he looks away from the two. sugawara chuckles before he karate chops daichi's stomach.

"c'mon daichi! there's no need to get embarrassed!" he says to daichi who was clutching his stomach from the impact of the attack. a cheery laugh escaped suga's lips as he looks to asahi who looked terrified from his aggression.

and from that day on, a little secret was shared between the trio.

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

a few months passed by and karasuno has come out victorious and has successfully qualified for the nationals. and just before the nationals started, you had the idea to give each of the team's members a little gift, a lucky charm keychain!

you then spent a few days making the charms, making sure each keychain was unique as the person. you carefully made each of it beautifully decorated. and as you were finished making with someone's charm you moved on to dachi's. and an idea popped through your head.

recently, daichi has started to give you an itchy feeling, but not in a bad way. but you find yourself getting increasingly drawn to him, his presence stirred a fluttery feeling in your heart, and warmth to your chest.

the itch grew day by day as you spent time with him. the itchy feeling was unfamiliar, but not unwelcomed.

as the sensation became more overwhelming, you became more aware of your growing feelings for him. every time you're near him, the feeling becomes more intense. he then would question you about your nervous state but, you'd just say your just feeling uneasy.

coming back to when you were making daichi's charm, you had decided to add something to it. just to make a lil' more special than the rest.

the day of the trip to tokyo for the nationals then came, and you've decided to give it just right before the bus sets off. one by one, you gave each of them the lucky charm. they all appreciated the gift and felt more motivated than ever.

once you have given all of them your present, there was one more you haven't given.

you made a bee-line to where daichi was. your land lightly tapped his shoulder, causing for him to turn around. "oh [name]! is everyone ready to go?" he asks, having a slight excitement when mentioning your name.

"yup! so uh, i just wanted to give everyone something and here's yours." you then presented the cute orange and black colored charm on your small palms. daichi utters a gasp of surprise as his eyes sets on the gift.

"oh wow! you really made one for the whole team?" he enthusiastically speaks while he takes it from your palm. just as he was about to say his thanks, the voice of coach ukai interrupts him. you both then chuckle and head to bus.

small giggles were heard from sugawara as he sees the specific pair, but he was silence, with one look on daichi's expression.

daichi then sits down beside sugawara, the bus then started. he then looks down on his palm that held the lucky charm, his eyes observes each of the beads and he notices something. a small heart charm was in between on some beads, he then feels sense of shock.

he then asks for suga's charm, and he checks it. no heart charm. afther then he checks asahi's who was just infront of him, no heart charm. he then tries to take a peek with the others charm, and once again, there's no sight of the charm that he has.

a warm feeling arises on his face, and his heart thumped a bit faster. sugawara who was confused, on why daichi was quite literally 'inspecting' the other's charms notices daichi's face and that his gaze was fixated on his charm and he sees it.

a small smirk comes to his lips. "hmm someone's feeling quite special." he mumbles to the captain, his tone being an amused one.

his cheeks had a tint of pink, and a smile that reached to his ears.

daichi then lets out a low chuckle before speaking.

"yea, i guess i am a bit special."

♡—MIYA OSAMU ( 1,243 words , 6851 chars )

when you became inarizaki's new manager, osamu never really noticed you.

your presence was almost a blur to him, but it all became a clarity like going from a blurry image to sharp clear image, when you had brought those delicious homemade onigiris as a thank you gift for welcoming you to the team.

as soon his eyes set on the plate you held, he lost his self-control and hungrily grabbed an onigiri instinctively. the unexpected gesture took you by surprise as you looked at him dazed.

osamu single-mindedly, he licks his lips his lips in anticipation, while his mouth watered at the sight. slowly but surely, he takes a munch out of it. and oh my god, was he not astonished by the taste. another bite followed by another, his eyes waters at how savory it is!

with every chew and chomp he takes, his heart throbs with delight.

he savors each bite he takes, and after a few chomps, he finishes eating. he lets out a huff of satisfaction before turning to you who had a shocked face.

"these are amazing,"

"did ya' makes them yourself?" he asks in an unconcerned tone, as if he didn't just ravish the onigiri in just a minute.

even though you were just in a state of shock, you immediately beam up at his compliment, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. you nodded, saying,

"ahh yea I did! i'm glad you enjoyed them." you answered as some chimed in their agreement, compliment and praising the delectability of the homemade snacks.

the others then continued to enjoy the onigiris, as osamu inhales the aroma coming from the others' snacks. as he relished under the addictive smell, he pondered about on what ways you made the delectable onigiris.

he pulls himself from reality as he thoughts of a question, but to his surprise, you beat him to it.

"do you enjoy cooking, osamu? that's your name right?" you asked curiously, and osamu nodded, having a slight smile to his face as he replied,

"i do actually, i've always got a' passion for food and cooking, er.. mostly food. i also love creating new dishes and experimenting with different flavors and textures. do you do too?" he admits and expresses his passion for food as he asked you a question back.

"yes! absolutely!" you nodded your head enthusiastically as your eyes sparkled with interest when you finally found someone whose interest is also cooking.

the both of you then have a conversation about foods, cookery, and stuff that are related to those topics. he replies with a thrilled voice whenever you would ask him a question, and vice versa.

as you and osamu animatedly talk about cooking, a couple of the other theme members chimed in their own experiences observations, sharing a few embarrassing stories here and there.

"here i have one, 'tsumu 'burnt' cup noodles, i donno what came to his mind that he thought he had ter' fry it." he lets out a bried chuckle, while his twin immediately retorts back having a nasty glare as the rest of the team shared a loud laughter, poking fun at the embarrassed atsumu while they were at it.

osamu's chuckle faded into a smile, he then turned to look at you. an unfamiliar giddy feeling suddenly reached to his chest, he scrunches his eyes at the feeling, he tries to ignore it, but the more he glanced at you, the more the feeling lasted.

"huh."

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

because of the you and his shared interest, you both engaged in conversations. the both of you shared ideas about cooking and giving recipes to each other occasionally.

during one of your conversations, an idea sparked up in your mind.

"oohh osamu! i should bring some of my homemade foods maybe for a week? you could be my little taste tester, hehehe." you spoke excitedly, while osamu, without hesitation, fully agreed to the idea.

"sure, i do want to taste those delicious onigiris again." a drool trickled down his chin as he envisioned the well-missed food. you laughed at the salivating man, gosh, he couldn't just wait to have a snack of those onigiris once again!

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

in the first day, you gave him five of those onigiris he dearly craved for. and he gobbled them all up, carefully savoring each snack. seeing him truly enjoy them made you want to push your efforts to making more.

and so, in the second day, you made yakitori, grilled chicken skewers that were marinated in a variety of seasonings. and without any doubt, he eats the skewers with teary eyes from how good they tasted.

he's so gosh damn in love with you your cooking, the way he would outright do anything for you it.

for the next two days, you had cooked him mouthwatering foods like, mentaiko—spicy cod roe and okonomiyaki—a japanese savory pancake. the flavoring of each dish has him growing more fond and fond of you. his taste buds savored the flavoring, and your cooking always fails to not make his day.

and for the last day, it being the very last day of him being as your taste tester, you decided to make it a little extra special.

ʚ 🍓 ɞ

the bell loudly rings, finally! he'll finally get to eat some of your delectable homemades. he knows today will be the last day, he's quite upset, but he also feels glad that he got to eat so much of your delicious cooking for a week!

he exits out of the classroom, making a beeline to the canteen while he pondered and wondered what you had made him today. when he reaches the canteen, he spots you sitting on your and his usual spot.

a light smile appears on his features, as he skips through the busy crowds of students.

"[name]! whatcha' made this time?" he asks excitedly while he sits in front of you. his face visibly looks excited, awaiting to find out what you made him, making you chuckle before speaking,

"okay so, since it's the last day of you being my taste tester and stuff, i decided to make a..." you paused your sentence, reaching for something beside you.

you proudly set a bento box on the table. "bento box!" you happily said, as you awaited for his reaction.

osamu stared at the bento box with widened eyes before slowly taking it and took a short glance to you as he opened it.

a surprised gasp falls from his mouth when he completely takes off the box's lid, revealing a variety of homemade food. "aahh yes! thank yer' so much!" he says as he straight away digs into the food. you almost feel worried for him when he chokes on something when he takes a spoonful bite.

with each bite, he feels a sense of delight. his taste buds danced the marvelous taste. he then pulls up his head and looks to you with begging eyes.

"g-god, this is so good! please [name] let me be your taste tester for longer!" he exclaims, feeling a bit embarrassed, but he honestly didn't care at this moment.

your face heated at his comment, you can't tell if it's from embarrassment or something about the way he pleaded.

but nonetheless, you hesitantly nodded your head shyly. the man then happily smiles, gulping the food he chewed before speaking.

"i wanna be yer' taste tester forever."

copyright © strwbivy ↣ do not copy, translate or repost.

[kyojurismo]

tags : fem!reader, spider-man au, reader gets kidnapped by a criminal, mention of injuries and blood, first kiss, bkg fell first & i got a little carried away alright bear w me.

notes : i just can’t help it, i had to write something about him as spider-man and here we are. across the spider-verse motivated me even more i guess . . . anyway, enjoy !! <3

special tag : @doumadono ♡

part two

spider-man!bakugo who happens to be your classmate, you find yourself study with him since he’s very smart and doesn’t even has to try. the annoying part? he’s popular and girls are all over him, so you’re often disturbed during your studying sessions.

spider-man!bakugo who starts developing feelings for you, finds himself staring at you as you focus on your notes and books, follows your figure in the corridors making sure you’re okay.

spider-man!bakugo who often finds himself checking on you while doing his usual patrols. you never notice him of course, he makes sure of it.

spider-man!bakugo who one day happens to hear you talking about him— well, about spider-man. he’s curious to hear your opinion about him.

“well, i’m glad someone is out there helping capturing criminals, but . . .” your friend shrugs, searching another article about spider-man. “look. he almost let this poor man fall from a balcony while trying to stop this criminal,” she points out.

you chuckle at her words, surprising her. “he can’t control civilians’ reactions, y’know. i think he’s doing a good work and he makes me feel more safe when i walk alone at night,” you confess, smiling. “we shouldn’t be too judgemental, i’m sure he’s doing his best.”

after hearing your words bakugo covers his mouth with his palm in attempt to hide his growing smile.

spider-man!bakugo who discovers some criminal kidnapped you and is using you against the police. he’s quick to arrive to the scene and enter inside the building, careful to not being noticed by the criminal pointing a gun to your head.

“please, lemme go!” you cry as you grip the criminal’s arm desperately, tears rushing down your warm cheeks. you can feel he is nervous, and that’s not good at all. he would probably shoot you if the police tries to come inside.

“they saw my face! i’m fucked! shit, i’m so fucked!” he screamed, shaking you and pushing the gun against your temple more harshly.

bakugo crawls on the ceiling, watching closely. he then quickly uses his web to disarm the man, immobilising him to the ground and then reach your shaking figure. “are you hurt?” he asks you, appearing in front of you.

“s-spider-man?” you raise your hands to touch his chest and shoulders to make sure he’s real and you’re not already dead or something. “yeah, it’s me. did he hurt you?” he sounds anxious, even though you seemed alright.

“uh i… yeah, i’m okay,” you check your figure and you don’t see any trace of blood or anything, then you raise your eyes to look at his masked face. “good. i gotta go now,” he hears the police starting to enter inside and he’s quick to rush through the back to exit the building.

“w-wait!” you turn and watch him, once his head turn to look at you you speak again. “thank you for saving me,” you smile at him. bakugo nods and then runs away, without being noticed by the police.

you couldn’t see it because of the mask, but katsuki smiled back at you.

spider-man!bakugo who feels good at the thought of being out there to protect you, to save you if needed. he has another reason to fight for his city.

spider-man!bakugo who bumped into you while running away from a scene after he succeeded in capturing the criminal. “careful, princess!” he shouts before running past you, before using his web to swing away. you feel your heart skipping a beat at the petname.

spider-man!bakugo who’s constantly debating about telling you his true identity, hoping that it would provide him at least a chance to be with you but also remember that it would put you in danger.

spider-man!bakugo who one night jumped into your window, falling on the floor and hitting your desk. you scream as you jump to your feet, scanning the figure lying on your floor… bleeding.

“oh my god… can you… hey!” you kneel beside him, checking the side of his stomach bleeding. you were about to remove his mask, as a way to help him breathing better but he’s quick to grab your wrist, almost scaring you. “don’t.”

you gulp and simply get up, reaching the bathroom and looking for a first aid kit. then you rush back into your room to medicate him. “what happened?” you ask as you start working on the injury. “i got shot, but the bullet passed through so it’s fine,” his voice is strained and visibly in pain but he doesn’t flinch as you medicate him. “it’s fine?! it seems like you’re bleeding to death!”

bakugo’s eyes search for your face and notices you’re actually worried about him. once you’re done you help him to your bed, helping him lying comfortably enough. you were lucky your parents weren’t home that night.

“i’m sorry,” he then speaks as you go back to your desk. “ah? sorry for what?” you turn your head for a moment, seeing spider-man lying in your bed was truly a sight. “coming to you, entering out of nowhere.”

you shake your head and then try to focus on the rest of your homework. you can feel him stare at your figure and it distracts you a bit, so you sigh and close your books a bit too loudly as you cringe. you get up and go check on him again, when you try to remove his mask once more he flinches away, stopping you.

“i need to check if you have a fever,” you explain, staring down at him. “i’m totally fine,” he shrugs and tries to sound convincing enough. “sorry, but i don’t really trust the word of a masked vigilante with a very bad injury lying in my bed.”

“i can lie on the floor if you prefer,” he tries to joke before grabbing your wrists as you try again. “okay, listen… you take it off while i keep my eyes closed and then i touch your forehead, what about it?” you try, just wanting to make sure he doesn’t have any infection from the injury. he seems to be thinking about before giving up. “hm.”

you close your eyes and wait for him to take the mask off, then you feel him guiding your hand to his forehead. you sigh in relief as you confirm that he’s alright. you retrieve your hand and wait for a couple of moments. “can i open my eyes now?” you ask him, a bit uncomfortable now that you couldn’t see what he was up to. “not yet.”

his voice is much closer than before and you then feel his breath fanning over you cheek. you shiver as his hand reached for your face and cupped your cheek. your heart starts beating so fast it almost jumps out of your chest before he leans closer and kisses your lips, the kiss lasts for a few seconds before he pulls away and lies back down, his face now fully covered.

you open your eyes and glance at him before turning around, trying to hide the embarrassment and the excitement. bakugo smirks from under the mask before closing his eyes, satisfied with his actions.

spider-man!bakugo who notices you’re trying to find out the real identity of spider-man, trying to see if it’s someone from your school. he’s sure you will never find out, he acts completely different when he’s spider-man. his secret is safe . . . right?

[secretlovezz]

I was wondering I could request headcanons with König, Soap, Price and Ghost celebrating a birthday with their s/o who thought that they’d forget/didn’t know? If it’s too many characters (😭I know writing is a struggle) maybe it’d be okay with just Ghost?

By the time I’m writing this, my birthday would’ve been tomorrow :]

I hope you have a good afternoon/day/evening/night

I'm so late omg (I'm horrible at getting requests done I'm so sorry!!!!) but here it is!!! I ended up only writing for Soap and Ghost even though the goal was to write for all of 141+konig so maybe there'll be a part 2 with everyone else eventually😭 Happy belated birthday babe and thank you for the request 🫶🫶🫶🫶 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I feel like because Simon most likely doesn't celebrate/do things for his birthday he won't do too much for you (this doesn't mean he doesn't care though).

He gets you the cutest presents, ones with meaning and love, ones that'll last for as long as possible.

Although he's nervous Simon is slick about the process of giving you your gift.

He's hiding it behind a cushion while the two of you are casually watching a movie together on the couch.

He hasn't said much to you all day (he is horrible at keeping secrets from you so he's kept his mouth shut so he doesn't spill the fact that he got you something).

You notice his silence just like you notice how Simon is being twitchy next to you, the arm around your neck is flexing and his free hand is wiping against his pants to get rid of sweat.

You don't think you've ever been more anxious and on your birthday no less.

Has he forgotten?

You feel sick to your stomach, nausea overtaking you and making you uncomfortable. Your body wiggles against your boyfriend's side and his eyes drift to you. His brown eyes are searching you intently; his gaze makes you all the more nervous.

He contemplates saying anything before his lips finally part to ask, "You alright, Dove?"

Your head is snapping in his direction before he can even finish his question, eyes wide in a way that make Simon's squint in confusion. He twists his body to face you a little more forcing you to look at him.

"What's wrong," He asks, your eyes are darting to any place that isn't his eyes because if you do he'll see straight through you. Sometimes you hate that he can just tell when you're upset.

When you don't answer him Simon sighs and stretches his arm to reach behind him. Your eyes water and your plump bottom lip quivers in response to his movement but when he pulls his hand back in between the both of you he's holding a little box.

Now your eyes squint in confusion causing a tear or two to fall out. Your boyfriend is quickly dropping the box and reaching to wipe them from your face pressing a swift kiss to your forehead before pulling back.

Before you can ask him anything about the box simon is grabbing your hands putting them together in a cupping motion and dropping the box into your hands. You look at him doe eyed and he motions for you to open it kissing your temple once more. If you weren't a little sad you would have laughed or giggled at the horrible attempt of a bow around the box. You pull at it and it comes loose and falls into your lap. You glance at Simon once more eyes still a little watery and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek.

You open the box slowly a little worried of what you might find inside.

When you open it to see dog tags you choke out a sob.

"It's a replica, not the real thing but still, happy birthday dove," Simon says while swiftly moving your face into the crook of his neck. You move yourself to straddle your boyfriend arms wrapping around his neck. You stop your cries to place a quick kiss on his neck. Your professions of love mumbled into his neck as you hiccup.

"I love you, hm? So much," he says and Simon chuckles when you whine at him.

"So so much," He whispers.

《---------------♡

John "Soap" McTavish

I lowkey feel like there's no possible way for you to feel like he's forgotten.

He's talking your ear off about what you guys are gonna do weeks before.

But imagine he gets called away just days before your birthday, he'd get so sad :(

He wanted to celebrate it properly; take you out to dinner buy you some flowers and a present that you would adore one that could make you smile.

So alas he's away on your big day and he's so busy and has so much work to do he almost doesn't get the chance to call you.

You try to watch a movie, one that you and Johnny would enjoy together if he were home, cuddled up against each other, slipping gentle intimate kisses to one another, laughing and giggling at stupidly cringe movie scenes. His hands would never leave you, they never did.

You miss him.

The thought made your lips quiver and your eyes water. You felt that you usually did okay, good even when Johnny wasn't around but today was your birthday and he wasn't here and it was harder than you thought it would be.

You picked up your phone and turned it on.

No notifications.

You'd hoped he'd at least text you but it was rounding 10:30, it was dark out and the lack of natural light was making you sleepy, but there was still nothing from him.

You're nodding off trying to keep yourself awake but eventually, your eyes are closing and your head is leaning back towards the cushion of the couch. You're snapped out of your closeness to sleep by the ringing of your phone. You scrambled for it moving quickly to answer whoever was calling you.

"Hello?" You answer.

A rumbling chuckle on the other line causes tears to gather at your water line, "were you sleeping, can hear it in your voice," you could imagine the smile gracing his face.

Your voice is shakey and quiet when you respond, "I miss you," you pull your knees to your chest, "I wish you were here."

You hear the ruffles of fabric, you wonder what he's doing.

"Wish I was there too believe me... Jesus, I miss you. Was gonna have flowers sent to you but Cap'n's threw me into somethin' I couldn't get out of and-"

You smile, cheesing into your pajama pants, "You were gonna buy me flowers?"

Johnny scoffs softly, "'course, my pretty girl deserves her flowers always and when I get back I'm gonna get you so many flowers you won't know what to do."

You laugh and he thinks he's never heard a sound more beautiful. He joins your laughter for a moment before the both of you quiet down slowly.

"Happy birthday sweet girl," Johnny whispers, "I love you"

[samiiy20]

♡ 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐇𝐚𝐧) ♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Dom!Lee Minho x fem!reader x Han Jisung 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: Smut 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡:4.6k (I don't know what happened jsjs) 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: After planning a surprise for your boyfriend, something unexpected happens when you have a third guest, but they prefer to take advantage of it.

N/A: This is something to celebrate 250 followers, thank you all very much for reading me <3

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

Warnings below the cut

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Threesome, unprotected sex (don't do it), a bit of degradation, oral sex, eating cum, nicknames: kitten,dacryphilia, overstimulation. I'm sorry if I forgot something

˚♡⋆｡˚♡⋆｡˚♡⋆｡˚♡⋆｡˚♡⋆｡˚♡⋆｡˚♡

You never thought about doing something like this. You had never imagined that you would end up agreeing to fulfill one of your boyfriend's fantasies. But you had given it a thousand thoughts, he had done it for you before, you could do the same for him once.

Your figure in the mirror made you feel like something didn't fit, maybe it was the soft tight lingerie that highlighted your skin, maybe it was the leather necklace that it sounded every time you moved or the pointy cat ears on your head. No, it was nothing like that, maybe it was the last accessory on the bed that you left for last, but just looking at it made your skin crawl.

It was a cute, fluffy cat tail.

Although you didn't want to accept it, all of this was embarrassing to you, you had never thought about wearing something like that. You sighed, looking at yourself for the last time in the glass, thinking about what to do, anyway Minho would never find out that you bought the outfit if you hid it.

You looked at the tail again and caressed it, you knew that without it the outfit would make no sense, but a part of you screamed that you looked ridiculous and the thought of what Minho would make you do dressed like that made you nervous.

Maybe you were being too accommodating to him, you threw things on the bed thinking about how things were before you met Minho, no one had ever made you even think about doing something like this, but here you were, in a set of lingerie just for him to tell you what to do.

“This is a bad idea,” you said as you decided where to hide what you bought.

***

Minho's cell phone hadn't stopped ringing the entire time, but no matter how much he wanted to take it out, he remained calm and composed because no one knew that he had a girlfriend. They had kept it a secret for a long time and they both agreed, they liked to be discreet, without pressure, and it was the best thing with the job he had.

He took out his cell phone to see the hundreds of calls he had from you and a single message. “I have a surprise for you <3” and that was enough to say goodbye.

“I have to go” he said, getting up from the table to get out of there.

At first the boys insisted that he stay, but after making excuses they agreed, accepting his decision.

“Do you think you can take me, I want to go too” Minho looked at Jisung looking for something to reject him, but he sighed in agreement. It would be a short way and he could get rid of him quickly he thought.

"you listening?" Minho finally let go of his thoughts and focused on his friend.

“Sorry, I'm distracted.”

“I noticed it” Jisung was not the most observant but he definitely knew that something was wrong with Minho, he kept moving his leg and looked at the time more than usual “are you in a hurry to get there?”

"A little bit"

It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with his friend, but he hadn't seen you in a while and thinking that you had dialed hundreds of times made him think more than necessary. He just wanted to come into the house and hug you, kiss your sweet skin and sleep next to you until the next morning.

When the car finally stopped Minho didn't wait any longer and took the things from him.

"Bye bye."

"Are you OK? You act strange”

“I'm fine, it's nothing.”

"You're lying to me?"

"Nooo, I really feel good." He opened the car door and tried to say goodbye but he saw Han's worried face. "I'm serious."

“You don't convince me” Minho was losing his patience but he didn't want to be rude so he forced himself to take a deep breath and show a sincere smile.

“Han, why would I lie to you?” Jisung sighed, he knew Minho better than anyone, he knew that he was lying but he didn't understand why and that made him think about many things, "do you want to walk me to the door?"

“I think it would be best.”

Minho sighed tiredly and had no choice but to accept, at first he was worried that Han would see you but knowing you he knew that you would spend it in the room and that you had probably fallen asleep, so he didn't give it much importance and tried to act normal.

“Well, we're here and I'm fine.”

“Are you indirectly telling me to leave?”

"YES" he screamed in his head, but he actually laughed and grabbed his friend's shoulder to hug him.

“Nooo, but you don't want to come in, do you?”

"It would not bother me."

In their entire friendship there was never a time when Han would bother Minho as much as he did today, but it wasn't his fault, he didn't think that his best friend was hiding his girlfriend.

Minho had no choice but to take out the keys and open the door, sighing in annoyance and begging you not to come out, but as soon as he turned on the light he could only curse for not having thrown Han out the window.

The boys' jaws dropped when they saw a half-naked woman lying face down on one of the couches. Pointed ears adorned her head that matched the cute, big tail she wore on her butt. But as Minho had assumed you were asleep, so deeply that you hadn't even realized that someone had entered.

“Ahh… I… Ahhh” Han was still trying to get his eyes to take off from that woman's butt but now he knew why Minho was acting so strange, although the questions piled up in his throat. Who was she? Was she her friend? His lover? Did Minho have a girlfriend?

Minho hurried to close the door in case someone passed by, he was surprised, if this was your surprise he wasn't expecting it, he thought you had new pajamas or that you had bought cute lingerie, but not an animal outfit. He was cursing over and over again not knowing what to do, did he cover you? Did he drag his friend out? But then what? Would you tell others? Would it be his secret? Or would he keep it in some corner of his memory?

"Who is she?"

“This is not the time to ask”

“But… She's naked on your couch.” Han's voice sounded upset and even though he knew he shouldn't be there, his feet were glued to the floor.

"Be quiet"

“Wouldn't it be better if I left?”

“Don't you think it's too late?” Minho was quick to run to where you were and cover your body “we have to talk.”

Han couldn't hear him, he was focused on the girl's silhouette on the couch but he forced himself not to look when his friend came to where you were.

Minho felt a little embarrassed and humiliated, but he didn't want to put you through the same thing, although he could also feel the anger running through his veins at seeing you so calm, as if you were making fun of him.

He sat on the edge of the couch and caressed your bare back going down to the beginning of your panties and he stopped to see what you were wearing, he opened his mouth when he saw the cat's tail. How could you fall asleep with something like that on your ass?

The touch of his fingers made you react and you squirmed as you regained consciousness. You held back the urge to jump on him and hug him, instead you smiled placing your hand on his thigh caressing him.

“Surprise,” you whispered, closing your eyes again.

“I have a surprise for you too,” he said, moving closer to your ear and caressing the ears on your head.

You nodded without thinking, Minho was the only man who could order you anything and you would obey without complaining, even if he didn't ask you, just now that you left your shame aside just to please his fantasies no matter how stupid you felt.

"Yeah?"

“Aha…” Minho turned to look at his friend and you followed his gaze finding Jisung. Their eyes met for a few seconds but Han quickly turned in another direction.

Even though you had never seen him in person you could tell who he was. Han Jisung, Minho's best friend and co-worker. From time to time he used to tell you things about boys but especially about him. Even so, you couldn't help but feel a little exposed and you sat up trying to hide your body.

"What is he doing here? “You invited him without telling me?” Han took a step back as the whispers between you began to take the form of an argument. He was confused and his mind only thought about your butt “I look ridiculous.”

“Shhh it's not what it seems” Minho had regained his composure. He had an idea but he needed your help "this wasn't planned kitty" the nickname made your skin crawl, but it still couldn't calm your nerves "we can't let him go like this" Minho's eyes looked at his still friend and you You did the same, noticing how his hands covered his crotch. “Besides, you've always wanted to have a threesome, right?”

Minho's words seemed unreal. You didn't understand what was happening although his words made you think about the possibilities and the idea made you clench your legs.

"But are you sure?"

“No problem, believe me, I know him better than anyone” Minho caressed your cheek making you look into his eyes again. You were a little scared, but you trusted him, but you remembered the multiple times Minho refused to have a threesome, that was the only thing he hadn't agreed to, but now you could comply. You looked at his friend one last time and analyzed it better, he seemed like a good guy, a little nervous and shy, but you knew that he hadn't stopped looking at you.

With a little hesitation you moved on the couch, making the object in your ass move, reminding you that you were carrying it.

“I don't…”

“I know you too” he grabbed your chin and moved closer to your mouth “don't play dumb.”

Han turned around when he saw Minho kiss you. He was cursing himself for insisting so much on coming, but a part of him was grateful to have been able to see that pretty body of yours. He felt tense and a little sore in his crotch, now what he wanted to do was get to his house to touch his cock thinking about you.

"Are you ready?" He whispered when he took his lips off of you, a little dizzy you nodded trying to maintain your composure while Minho stood up leaving your body exposed again “I'm so sorry Han, I was rude” Jisung didn't dare look at his friend and just said. see the ceiling. Minho smiled, holding back his laughter and continued with sarcasm, “I think I haven't introduced them well. Han, she's my new pet” Jisung looked at you for a microsecond seeing that you had sat on your knees with your hands between your legs “kitty, he's our special guest, why don't you say hello?”

Han was still looking at the ceiling, ignoring his labored breathing when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that you got off the couch and started walking on all fours. Curiosity got the better of him and he met you when you caressed your head with his legs, tilting your torso to leave your butt up.

"Shit, this can't be happening" "it's a dream" Han thought when he noticed the details in your outfit.

“She likes you” Minho took his friend by the shoulder and forced him to walk to the couch “why don't you come with us? Surely you want to stay longer, right?”

Minho was making fun of Han and he knew it but even with his hands on his crotch he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be an idiot, but when he saw you coming towards them he tried to get up. Minho was stronger and held him back, smiling as you climbed over both of their laps, letting your body fall into the boys' legs with your ass on Jisung's legs.

“Minho… Am…” his hands had been trapped under your body and he could feel the warmth of your belly in them, he was grateful and cursing in equal measure but this was being a lot to process “I… I'm sorry.” , I didn't think that… Umm… You were with someone.”

“It doesn't matter anymore, you're here now.” Minho caressed your head as you moved it over his member and Han swallowed to continue.

"But…"

“Shhh I know what you think” he said in a more serious tone, leaving aside the smile and sarcasm “you better take advantage before I regret it and force you to leave in that state”

Han was left with his mouth open, not knowing what to say and with a thousand questions rolling through his mind, but Minho's look had something that he had never seen before, he didn't want to know if his words were true. He let himself be carried away by the sensation of his member and let out a sigh when he released his hands from your body, revealing his erection in your belly.

Minho's hands in your hair and Han's on your back made you feel more relaxed than you expected. His caresses were soft and delicate, although Han's were a little trembling when they touched your butt. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, enjoying the softness of new hands on your body.

You shifted your hips in Han's lap and cursed when you felt his hardness rub against your pussy.

“Shit” Suddenly Minho grabbed your hair and raised your face, making you open your eyes to look at him.

"What's happening? Can cats talk?” A wave of shame washed over you, but you swallowed your pride and opened your mouth, letting out a low meow.

Han was freaking out, but he wanted to hear you meow again even just a little. He grabbed one of your buttocks and squeezed it, not caring that his friend was close to him. You looked in his direction but Minho held you tighter, making you look at him again with the warning in his eyes, making you meow again. higher.

“Much better,” Minho's mouth crashed onto your lips before protesting and this time Han couldn't help but look away, noticing how his mouths connected perfectly while his tongues played.

“Damn Minho.”

You separated from your boyfriend smiling and stood up to go with Han. Minho felt something light up inside him when he saw how you grabbed the face of his friend and brought him closer to bring his lips together. Han's kisses were softer, more delicate, trying to memorize his movements and control the rhythm. The boy's hands grabbed your face, trying to get you closer to him, putting his tongue in your mouth to taste you. They were starting to gain momentum and seemed to fit together better every second, so much so that you somewhat forgot about Minho putting you on top of Han's legs.

You were immersed in the softness of other lips, the movements of other kisses, the hands of another man touching your waist that when Minho grabbed your breasts from behind to massage them you had to break away to take a breath. Your back collided with his body and showed the spectacle of his caressing Han, who took the opportunity to lick your neck.

Minho managed to get rid of your bra to knead your flesh and pinch your nipples while he watched your face rest on his abdomen and Jisung's mouth devour your neck. His gaze connected and he smiled a little as he saw your eyes begging for more, but he wouldn't give it to you easily, not after seeing how much you enjoyed the kisses and caresses of his friend.

Jisung was intoxicated by your skin, he didn't think any had flavor but yours was sweet and addictive. He couldn't stop and he fit his teeth a little making you let out a moan, he continued going down until he found hands denying him access to your breasts. He dared to look up at his friend and with a growl Minho stopped massaging one to let him continue while he wrapped his fingers around your neck.

Han's tongue drew circles on one of your nipples while the other was crushed between Minho's fingers. You let your fingers tangle in Han's hair as you watched Minho a little displeased without taking your eyes off of him.

You knew what Minho could be if he was jealous and even if you didn't say it you liked him a little, ignoring his gaze you moved your hips forward rubbing yourself on Han's member. The boy's muffled sighs reached Minho's head, he squeezed the grip on your neck looking at you with a sideways smile.

You couldn't focus on just one part of your body, your whole body was immersed in new sensations. Han's mouth on your chest, Minho's fingers on your neck, Han's cock caressing your pussy, Minho's hardness on your back, the growing humidity in your panties, but above all every time you moved you could feel the toy in your ass It wasn't unpleasant, it felt good and it even made you squirm a little to seek more satisfaction. It was something a little new and even though you still thought you looked ridiculous you secretly liked it a little. Being humiliated and obeying Minho tickled your core, but having two men do the same thing made you burn inside.

You couldn't speak and every time you opened your mouth to moan you closed it again, you didn't want to meow again. Seeing it, Minho took the opportunity to make fun of you.

“What's up kitten?” His hand made light pressure on the necklace you were wearing. “Are you thirsty?” Do you want some milk?” You opened your eyes and smiled, dare him a little.

"Yeah"

Minho took your body and you obeyed without resistance. Even with his hand on your neck, he turned you and kissed you, trying to replace the trail of Jisung's kisses, you moaned when you felt his teeth catch your lips while his hands descended to your center. You grabbed his shoulders as you felt the sudden sensation of his fingers massaging your clit and you heard laughter behind you drawing your body to the couch.

They laid you down, placing your head on one end and you could see Han unbuttoning his pants while shame painted your face at the sight of his cock exposed to him. You licked your lips as you saw the drops of semen running down the base to his balls, you shifted, getting comfortable and letting your hair hang a little.

“I'll be good to you, cutie.” Minho ignored the nickname and nodded while his friend looked for approval in his eyes. You opened your lips, feeling the weight of the tip on your tongue. You moaned, sending shivers down Han's spine as he watched you stroke his cock, savoring the first drops.

He couldn't wait any longer, he pushed his hips slowly enjoying the view of how you swallowed his cock and adapted to his size. You moaned as you felt the pressure on your throat as he began to move again to begin his thrusts.

Minho would have been lying if he said he wasn't enjoying it a little, he felt the pressure in his pants every time he saw how your body twitched when Han pushed his hips into your mouth, but he wasn't going to stay behind watching how his friend made you feel good. He placed himself between your legs, separating your knees, revealing the wet spot on your panties and smiled, passing his fingers just to have a little fun. He bit his lips to suppress a moan as he moved the fabric to see your wet pussy and he didn't wait any longer to taste you.

Your legs reacted quickly when you felt Minho's tongue move in your pussy but he held you back, continuing to lick your juices and swirl your clit. You moaned into Han's cock letting a bit of spittle run from the corners of your mouth as you were imprisoned beneath him.

You moved your hips searching for Minho's tongue but his arms quickly held you in place.

“Don't be impatient kitten” Minho watched as Han's face contorted making his last movements while he grabbed your breasts, pressing your nipples to make you moan. He sighs, running his fingers over your entrance, inserting two of them to touch the right spot inside to help his friend get pleasure from him.

Han moved his hips with difficulty as he felt his cock tremble, releasing his load into your mouth. You thirstily swallowed as much as you could but in the end some drops escaped, letting them run down your neck. Han pulled out, but your ragged breathing only made Minho continue pounding his fingers deep into you.

“Min… I'm going to cum.”

“Scream my name kitten” Minho didn't stop, he continued pounding your pussy and he could feel your walls squeeze his fingers and see how you were fighting not to shed tears, your heavy breathing and his name leaving your sweet lips made him almost forget that he had ever met you seen enjoying someone else, when he saw your back arch and clench your fists he stopped denying you the pleasure.

Tears fell, painting your face at Minho's decision, your body was restless and you needed to calm it down. You stood up, staggering a little, if he didn't want to give it to you you would look for someone who would.

You found Han sitting on the single couch and crawled over to him without thinking about your boyfriend. You climbed onto his lap, turning your back to him to look at Minho sitting watching the show. You rolled your hips, feeling Han's cock harden again as he touched your entrance and rubbed your clit. Minho's eyes were dark and flashing warnings at you, but that only made the adrenaline in your body ignite making you spread your legs and line up his friend's cock in your needy pussy.

You sank slowly, drawing moans from Han as he fit his fingers into your skin, you moaned when you felt his full length, you didn't stop when you thought and you began to bounce looking for your own pleasure accompanied by the tinkling of the bell on your neck. You bit your lips without taking your eyes off Minho as you noticed that he had taken his cock out and started massaging it. Han had his face buried in your neck singing praises about how good you felt.

You continued on your way, feeling your body burn with Han's kisses on your back, his hands playing with your breasts, your eyes focused on Minho holding back from cumming in his hand, the way the toy in your ass tightened with each jump you made and how your walls had squeezed Han's cock feeling it tremble.

“Don't stop, cutie” You closed your eyes following the sensation of pleasure throughout your body, you moaned non-stop until the knot in your stomach was released, letting Han continue mixing his juices with you and Minho dripping his hand with his semen. .**

You collapsed into Han's chest and regained your breath, but Minho immediately stood up, stealing you and carrying your tired body.

“Go clean yourself up, I'll take care of her.” Han didn't dare to look at his friend while he carried your body to the room.

You opened your eyes looking at Minho's face as he placed you on the bed and took off your ears and the collar you were wearing.

“Minho…”

"yes darling?" He asked, stroking your hair.

"are you angry?" Minho smiled and denied, kissing your forehead, he always looked for your happiness and was not angry about what had happened although he was not going to admit that he was a little jealous.

You closed your eyes concentrating on his hands, you sighed as you felt his delicate kisses on your chest slowly moving down your abdomen. He turned you around and caressed your buttocks, resisting the urge to caress the cat tail you still wore. He took it and kissed your back, slowly removing it. You couldn't help but moan at the sensations in your body because of how delicate he was. You were exhausted, but not satisfied, you needed him.

“Min…” you turned your head to look at him and blushed just thinking about what you were about to say “I need you.”

You thought he would tease or make you beg for it, but he just leaned in to kiss you, letting his fingers touch your sensitive pussy. You muffled your moans into his mouth as you felt the length of him passing through your pussy. Minho was also needy for you, he didn't have time to joke or play with you, he just wanted to feel you.

He lifted your hips, plunging his cock into your walls and moaned your name. “Are you still so tight after that?” You took the sheets in your hands as you felt the first push of his hips. Minho didn't stop and started following the rhythm that you both liked.

Your sensitive pussy didn't stop clenching around his cock and Minho could only keep bucking his hips, seeking his release. Your legs shook announcing your arrival making your boyfriend pound faster to reach you but in the end you couldn't hold it back and you came all over his cock, but Minho continued to seek his own pleasure.

“Just a little more kitty” Your entire body contracted, you could no longer stand the sensations and you began to cry when you felt so much pleasure. Minho felt his cock tremble inside you and he lay on your back feeling his cum running down your walls spilling up to your thighs “you did well” You closed your eyes resting finally letting Minho take care of the rest.

When Minho finished cleaning you and taking a shower he went out to the living room to see his friend at the door. Han noticed it and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to apologize.

"where are you going?"

“Home… I… I'm so sorry I shouldn't have insisted on coming here… I won't say a word to anyone, I promise.”

Minho laughed and approached his friend.

“I know you won't say anything, forget what just happened, it was just… a game” Minho dragged his friend back inside and checked the time “stay the night, it's already late.”

"oh really?"

"Of course, you're my friend."

“but… the three of us won't fit in the bed” Minho suddenly became serious and separated from Han.

“you will sleep on the floor”

“Hey, I was just joking.” Han went to hug his friend, trying to forget what happened a few hours ago.

[yanderecandystore]

I always wonder about the bully, what would happen if s/o just moved from the school, like they can't take the bullies anymore. And when they finally find them they see s/o kissing their lover and holding hands. Bonus point if the lover said "don't worry, no one will bully you anymore i'm here" just fluff pls no bad end for the lover but i want to see the bully get pissed hahahaahha

What time is it? It's "Eat the hearts of my ocs" o'clock! But we're WEEKS late!

(I'm so sorry for the wait ;-; I have no idea when it comes to passage of time)

I want to change the request just a little bit because it's been a while but I've been referring to my bully ocs as college age/older- I know it's just fluff but I want to just add a little sprinkle of pain✨

[🚚🧳🌉] This post has something similar to that-

TW/Tags: They/Them being used in the beginning as a neutral singular pronoun, just in case anyone gets confused, you can say it was either one of the twins// they went loco while you were gone // delusional, slight victim blaming mentality, bullying, stalking, slight mentions of pain/harm, mentions of insomnia // nothing happens in this one to be honest.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Breaking apart [Yandere!Bully!OCs x Gender Neutral!Reader - Headcanons]:

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec!🎇

It was just so sudden that they couldn't avoid it sooner- Perhaps you managed to keep your mouth shut for long enough so that they wouldn't hear the rumors of it, or since you didn't have close friends (thanks to them) no one was able to snitch on you.

Maybe you didn't even give them any hints around your social media, nothing seemed out of ordinary in your posts-

Not even the teachers seemed to know of your plans, or if they did, they made sure to keep it a well hidden secret.

The only change to your usual routine was that small yet noticeable hopeful glint in your eyes, as if something was keeping you in a good mood even while having to deal with your bully each day.

Ah, for a few days they thought that it was because of them, going as far as thinking that now was that time- Finally, finally you would have come to terms with your own feelings towards them and finally confess it for all to hear! It would be a pitiful display but they were sure it would be all worth it in the end.

You never did that, however. The day after you changed schools, so quickly that they couldn't make any plans to stop you.

Their younger self felt more insulted than anything, you dare to run away from them your entire life than to deal with your responsibilities?… It was pathetic and cowardly, from their point of view.

Then again, in their point of view you were also responsible for the way they would treat you, for the countless nights left without sleep, and for the constant paranoia that plagues them.

It was so obvious (to them) that you just didn't want to deal with the shame of liking your bully, and although changing schools was an ""exaggeration"" on your part, they thought they could deal with your lack of presence just fine.

They didn't. It only made it so much worse.

But it wasn't until later on, after years of being away from you that they would be able to understand why you left school…

Finding you by chance after so long was a miracle, to be honest! It was impressive how you managed to hide yourself online so well and ever better yet in public.

You wouldn't be able to understand the joy, the rush that runs through their veins as they see you after such a long time of no signs of your presence or of your existence! Ah, but then again it made sense, right? They were awful to you, weren't they? They didn't show you how much they actually admired you.

But they're older now! They matured! They would never act the same childish way that pushed you away in the first place!-

That's what they thought as they kept pushing people out of their way so they could follow your silhouette, desperately wanting to call for you but not having the strength to fully scream it out- Ah, wasn't this like old days? Wasn't this just like the time they would chase you? Although, you haven't noticed them yet due to the busy crowd…

It was when you finally stopped walking, your back turned to them that they finally were able to see you properly, you changed yet not enough to be fully unrecognizable- You grew yet in their eyes everything seemed to be just like in highschool all over again, but this time they promised that they would make things right!... Until they saw you hugging a stranger.

They didn't know who it was, and for all they cared it could be a friend, a family member, it didn't matter at all, all that it mattered was that they could see you again-

Yet before they could make any advance towards you, to finally speak their mind, they see you and the stranger hold hands and kiss. An innocent and very short action that to your bully feels like an eternity in Hell.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

→ Adrien Coldwell:

It's been such a long, long time since Adrien last saw you, last heard of you- In general he might as well have thought you were dead! And for the longest time, he really thought that!

So tell me, how do you think he felt seeing you in the arms of some nobody?

It's a joke, right? An unfunny prank you want to put him through, surely this isn't actually happening in front of his sleepy, barely holding each other up eyes.

Oh… Wait. You were never one for jokes, especially not with him, of course…

"... [Y/n]? [L/n] [Y/n]? It's you, isn't it? It really is you, isn't it?" Adrien's voice is lazy, tired, devoid of all that smugness and confidence he used to treat you with. He just needs to confirm that you really are here.

Ah… but when you turn around, your happy face goes back to one he recognized oh so well, of horror.

"It's you.. It is you, I shouldn't have doubted it- You've changed..! I'm… it's been so long, hasn't it..?" His sorrowful words hit you as if he was talking to a longtime friend, which you're not.

Ah, his state however… It's deteriorating. You knew who he was by his voice alone, it would be impossible to forget it after having it drilled into your brain with all that resentment and fear you harbored. But to see him in this depressed, messy state almost makes you feel pity towards him… What happened while you were gone?

That didn't matter now, however, you couldn't simply turn a blind eye to all of what he did, and all that healing you've done shouldn't be so easily broken just because he recognized you in public.

You considered your options, you could curse him off, talk to him indifferently and politely… Or simply walk away.

You didn't owe him anything, talking to him would only make you more uncomfortable than you already are- Who would blame you for not wanting to talk with your past tormentor?? You took your partner's hand and urged him to leave with you.

"Are you going already?.. I… I need to talk with you, maybe another time if you're busy.." He almost sounded considerate and respectful of your boundaries if it wasn't for his hand holding your arm and stopping you from getting away. Possessively clingy onto you almost in a threatening way.

You felt this sensation before, yet you wish you didn't. You wish you weren't as terrified as you were but as long as the situation keeps on escalating you can't help but feel more and more like you were still in highschool being helpless and scared of turning your head to face him. Like a cursed time machine, you're brought back to feeling worried of what will happen if you tell him to stop, to leave you alone! You remember how no one used to believe you when you mentioned being bullied, how no one dared to say anything because "oh well, is just the Coldwell!" As if that alone gave him rights to treat you the way he did-

But this time you weren't completely alone, your partner took his hand away from your arm- A stern look in his eyes as he lightly pushed Adrien away.

"I don't know what you want but I'm pretty sure I know who you are, and they don't want to talk with you. Leave us alone." It wasn't a threat, it wasn't insulting nor intimidating and yet it set the message very clearly: He wasn't letting Adrien enter back into your life if you didn't want to.

"Who even is this, huh, [Y/n]?" Adrien gave your partner a little slap on his hand, it wasn't clear if he felt insulted by his presence in general or by him touching Adrien without permission.

"[Y/n], this isn't funny anymore, stop ignoring me, please-" A request that would go to deaf ears, as you continued to distance yourself from him while your partner stood in between you two.

"They don't want to. I'm warning you, go away." During high school every student feared the power and status that the Coldwell family held on their grasp, everyone envied and admired their wealth, but they all knew that if you crossed their family- No one in the world would ever be able to help you stand up against them.

But today was different from those dark days where you couldn't rely on anyone, it was comforting even if a bit reckless to see Sean protect you the way he did.

Younger Adrien would have made your new boyfriend's life a living hell, he would've made sure he knew his place in the school's hierarchy… But that doesn't work anymore. He could say he would tell his mom to use her money against this guy… But that doesn't work anymore.

He watched as you held hands with the man that had stolen you away from him, unable to stop him.

Adrien watched as your partner promised no one would bully you anymore and that you were safe with him…

"... Bastard… I could have said the same thing if you would've let me finish.." Adrien stood there, mumbling nonsense that you wouldn't be able to hear anyway, saying things he knows are not true.

For now, you were happy walking away with someone who actually showed how much he cared from start to finish.

→ Alexandra Coldwell:

It's been such a long, long time since Alexandra last saw you, last heard of you- In general she might as well have thought you were dead! And for the longest time, she really thought that!

So tell me, how do you think she felt seeing you in the arms of some nobody?

Oh, this is a dream, right? She is hallucinating again, silly her, her sleep schedule has been completely changed since the day you left- Now her eyes are wide open to everything and everyone all the time! She always swears she can see you in the corner of her vision. Always there to make fun of her….

Oh wait! You're real! Right?? This is real, right? She has woken up a few hours ago, she is sure of that-

"[Y/n]??- I-it's been a long time- H-How are you?" Alex falters as she makes her way closer to you, trying to stay focused on the more urgent matter that is talking with you for once.

Ah… but when you turn around, your happy face goes back to one she recognized oh so well, of horror.

"So it IS you!! You are you! Of course you are! H-How have you been?!" The excitement in her voice is palpable, even in her current state, she still strikes you as an extrovert with a very talkative personality.

Ah… Her state, however… It's deteriorating. You knew who she was by her voice alone, it would be impossible to forget it after having it drilled into your brain with all that resentment and fear you harbored. But to see her in this nervous, trembling state is making you feel concerned for her… What happened while you were gone?

That didn't matter now, however, you couldn't simply turn a blind eye to all of what she did, and all that healing you've done shouldn't be so easy to break just because she recognized you in public.

You considered your options, you could curse her off, talk to her indifferently and politely… Or simply walk away.

You weren't actually obligated to talk to her at all… so… why not just run away? You took your partner's hand and pretended as if Alexandra mixed you up with someone else.

"Hm..??! Wait- Where are you going?! I-I really need to talk with you!" She begged you to hear her, her meek voice contradicting the desperate hand in your arm. Her nails are still sharp as ever clawing at your skin, even if not intentionally this time.

You felt this sensation before, yet you wish you didn't. You wish you weren't as terrified as you were but as long as the situation keeps on escalating you can't help but feel more and more like you were still in highschool being helpless and scared of turning your head to face her. Like a cursed time machine, you're brought back to feeling worried of what will happen if you tell her to stop, to leave you alone! You remember how no one used to believe you when you mentioned being bullied, how no one dared to say anything because "oh well, is just the Coldwell!" As if that alone gave her rights to treat you the way she did-

But this time you weren't completely alone, your partner took her hand away from your arm- A stern look in his eyes as he lightly pushed Alexandra away.

"I don't know what you want but I'm pretty sure I know who you are, and they don't want to talk with you. Leave us alone." It wasn't a threat, it wasn't insulting nor intimidating and yet it set the message very clearly: He wasn't letting Alex enter back into your life if you didn't want to.

"[Y/n]... Who is this?? Who is this- Person?! Unhand me!" Alex pushed your partner away, it wasn't clear if she was mad about his presence in general or because he was holding her wrist.

"[Y/n], please! It feels like a nightmare whenever you ignore me!-" She was beginning to cry as she whined your name, your partner standing in-between her and you didn't stop her from trying to reach you.

"They don't want to. I'm warning you, go away." During high school every student feared the power and status that the Coldwell family held on their grasp, everyone envied and admired their wealth, but they all knew that if you crossed their family- No one in the world would ever be able to help you stand up against them.

But today was different from those dark days where you couldn't rely on anyone, it was comforting even if a bit reckless to see Sean protect you the way he did.

Younger Alexandra would have made your new boyfriend's life a living hell, she would've made sure he knew his place in the school's hierarchy… But that doesn't work anymore. She could say she would tell her dad to use his money against this guy… But that doesn't work anymore.

She watched as you held hands with the man that had stolen you away from her, unable to stop him.

Alexandra watched as your partner promised no one would bully you anymore and that you were safe with him…

" I… I wanted to say that.. I-I would've said that ages ago if you had stayed just a little longer…" Alex stood there, mumbling nonsense that you wouldn't be able to hear anyway, saying things she knows are not true.

For now, you were happy walking away with someone who actually showed how much he cared from start to finish.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭