#i swear i want to give them fluff

[lilunaire]

Teaser 2 for "Til we burn our skins"

Friendly reminder english isn't my native langage, so please be indulgent with me <3

I'm almost done with the french version of chapter 3. Hopefully, I will be done correcting the three chapters and translating the first one for next week.

Oh, and I'll probably drop the summary of the story as the third teaser ;)

byyye

[idkwidatp]

i would love to focus on renga

BUT THESE TWO KEEP DISTRACTING ME

[iridescentis]

i think the reason why i don't read/write my sapphic ships very often is because im just jealous it makes me mad😭

like with guy characters i absolutely adore them and their dynamics but with sapphics its all of that but also like. do yall need a third. im free whenever.

[neonganymede]

Wrote less than 500 words today. Feeling some kind of way about that.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[seonghwaddict]

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[muzansfangs]

You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.

Starring: Choso Kamo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Higuruma Hiromi x f!reader;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, dirty innuendos, fluff, jealousy, established relationships, nipple play, spanking, playfully biting the partner arses, oral sex (reader!receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, face sitting, unprotected sex;

Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Choso Kamo.

Choso’s lips glided down your neck, nipping, sucking onto the flesh with the same care a potter would handle his fragile new creation. This man was genuinely head over heels for you. Ever since his little brother had introduced you two, Choso had found a new reason to live and, supposedly, be a better person. He had learned so much about human interactions, about feelings and even about intimacy. While he was not properly addicted to sex, this man loved being inside of you more than anything. He needed to touch your soft skin, he needed your warmth around him. That evening was not that different from an ordinary one.

His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling them, thumb and index rolling your handened nipples to elicit from your throat the soft moans he loved to hear from you so much. You did not fail his expectations. You cried out, head lolling back against his shoulder in ecstasy.

“Sing for me, babe” Choso mumbled, your insides clenching around his shaft deliciously as he slowly bucked his hips up to stimulate you.

The squelching sounds filling the room were making your head spin, eyes fluttering to enjoy the sensations to its fullest. You hated pissing him off, you really did, but above anything else you loathed causing his heart to ache. Still, that trend was too tempting not to try it on your sweet boyfriend.

You hummed, sinking down further onto his cock to meet his lazy thrusts “Louder? I don’t want the neighbours to complain again, Choso” you replied breathless, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek. Your hand reached towards his left hand, giving it a squeeze, before guiding it down towards your pubes.

Choso groaned, fingers grazing the smooth skin in delight, while he reached down to flick your throbbing clitoris dilegently “They can burn in Hell, baby. — he promptly said, smiling against your neck — All I care about it you and this sweet pussy of yours. Gosh, I can’t wait to taste your orgasm later” he praised you, causing you to shriek for a deeper thrust of his hips.

“Yeah? Is it that sweet, babe? I got to tell Akio then. I couldn’t describe its flavour to him today” you blurted out, only for Choso’s smile to disappear.

Choso.exe stopped working.

His movements halted, his eyes darkening as he grasped your chin to turn your head in his direction. Lying to his face was going to be hard, especially since he had put up such a puppy face that your heart ached in your chest.

“Akio? Who’s Akio?” Choso asked you, his voice low and a tad serious.

“The guy who waxed me today. Did I forget to mention him to you?”.

“Akio is a guy, isn’t he?”.

You giggled, booping his nose affectionately “Sure he is, silly. What’s with that?”.

Choso huffed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he embraced your tighter “A guy… Did you let another boy look at your pussy? Babe, why? Tell me that’s not true! You would never let anyone touch your—” he wept and you could swear tears brimmed in his eyes. Oh no, that was enough. You could not keep it up anymore.

You sighed, shaking your head vigorously “No! It’s a joke, Choso, please! I’ve been an idiot! Forgive me, baby! Look at me” you interrupted him, pressing your forehead against his one.

Choso relaxed, his breath still kind of irregular as he palmed his forehead in distress. You had really scared him. He could not still bear with jealousy. Apparently, he was not the type to go mad. Choso was too kind-hearted for that. Dealing with feelings was still hard for him. His lips captured yours, gently, holding you close as he relished the feeling of being in your arms.

“Don’t do it again” he whispered and you nodded your head in agreement. Poor Choso, struggling with jealousy.

Higuruma Hiromi.

This man was born to give you oral. Underneath you, head squeezed by the fat of your thighs, your dripping core bare for him to lavish with his tongue and your clitoris for his nose to stroke, Hiromi could happily die. The sweet sounds you made, the way you rolled your hips for facilitate the way he lapped at your folds with flat of his tongue were such a delicacy. If he was asked about a good way to die, the stressed out lawyer would have decidedly declared you his designated executioner and welcomed your pussy as his deathbed.

Now, sitting on his face, hands scrambling up to hold onto the metal bars of the bedhead, you whimpered out his name in bliss. The pleasure was so intense your obnubilated mind was neglecting the plan, your thirst for him not quenching in the slightest when you felt the tip of his tongue slip in between your smooth, slippery folds.

“H-Hiromi! Gosh, don’t stop” you drawled out, back arching as his hands, sprawled over your arses, squeezed onto the rounded globes in unbridled possessiviness.

He had no intention to stop, not even as his chin and nose were coated onto a glistening mixture of your juices and his own saliva. This was not a simple way to cherish your moments with him, this was downright his favorite addiction. Hiromi did not really care if you skipped your appointment with the beautician. He frankly appreciated how much care of your body you had, but he had never asked you to get a wax. Never. Still, when you did, he could not deny how much he loved the way his tongue smoothly skimmen over your silky folds.

“Ride my nose harder, baby” he rasped, his cock twitching in his pants as you shifted upwards, following his command eagerly.

You inhaled sharply, eyes downcast to peer down at your husband’s face barely visible from underneath your thighs. The timing was perfect. Eyes screwed shut, Hiromi was gradually guiding your hips back and forth to help you rub your swollen clitoris over his prominent nose. Waves of electricity ran through your veins, as you let out a pathetic whine. Now, or never, you had to drop the bomb before it was too late.

“I don’t think there’s a single hair left, right?” you breathed out, Hirmoni’s teeth nipping gently at your labia with a huff.

“Not even a single one… — your husband rumbled out — Not that I’d mind anyway” he whispered, mouth opening to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh. You two were making a mess.

You shivered, biting down onto your lower lip to concentrate better before shattering that poor man’s world with a single sentence “Yeah, I know, Hiroshi did such an amazing job”.

Hiromi’s assualt on your heat ended instantly. Hooded eyes opening, a knot creasing his forehead, he glanced up at you inquisitively “You meant Hiroko, not Hiroshi. I sincerely hope so”.

“No, I meant Hiroshi. — you countered back, breath still uneven as you wiped away the sweat beading your forehead with the back of your hand — Hiroko got down with a cold, he’s in charge of the beauty center now. I probably forgot to fill you up with the news” you replied, trying to sound convincing as Hiromi just stared blankly up at you.

Maybe it was just your impression, but the atmosphere around you, once charged with sexual tension, grew gloomy, almost chilling. His finger slipping into your core all of sudden made you choke out a screech of surprise, pleasure and discomfort engulfing your lower abdomen as you gawked down at him.

“Don’t talk. Not a single word unless I demand you to speak” Hiromi flatly said, curling his finger into you unforgivingly slowly.

You gaped in shock, legs almost giving up as he shoved another finger into your sappy hole, his eyes darkening as he assessed your reaction. He could not believe you had waited up until that very moment to tell him such a thing! You, his muse, his reason to wake up in the morning, you had let another man touch his nest.

“Did this man touch my home? Did you let him graze his fingers over your pubes, down to your labia, spreading them for him to enjoy the view?” he interrogated you, his tone sharp and cold, taking the same edge it did when he was in a courtroom. This was a problem. You knew you had to stop that circus.

You cried out, lips parted, as you shook your head “H-Hiro! It was a joke! It was a joke, I swear!” you fretted, watching with glee as his expression relaxed and he slided his fingers out of you.

You did not register how he slipped out from between your thighs, pushing your face down onto the pillow as he bit down onto your arse. All you knew was that, when he finally was deep inside of you, his mouth neared your ear and he got back at you from your silly staunt “Let me fill you up with something better than a fib, hm?”.

Nanami Kento.

Large and calloused hands gripping your hipbones, cock stretching you out deliciously, you did your best not to reach your climax right away. Kento Nanami, the best partner you could have ever asked for, was taking his sweet time with you. His hips smacked against yours in a firm, steady pace, as you almost drooled over the polished wooden surface of the desk.

Sex after he came back from his small work trips was the best. Passionate, intense, the lust blinding you two all of a sudden. This time, it had washed over you, when he had seen you saunter towards him all dolled up for a dinner out. A dinner he had promised you before leaving and a dinner you were probably going to be late for.

“I missed you. Wholeheartedly. Waking up alone sucks” Kento stated, burying himself into you to the hilt.

You moaned out, nails scraping the wood as you pushed back against him, squeezing him up perfectly to enjoy the way his girth made itself space within your walls. You were absolutely in a frenzy, your make-up ruined, as you rested your cheek against the desk.

“I missed you too, oh so much” you replied, breath uneven as he leaned down to plant a kiss onto your nape, thrusting slowly into you, making love instead of fucking. This felt just perfect, so perfect that, if it was not for him speaking up, you would have forgotten completely about the devious plan you had in mind.

“You even waxed for me, huh?” he whispered, causing you to tighten up around him again and for your husband to grunt in pleasure.

“You shall t-thank Noboru for the last minute appointment he agreed on” you blurted out, Kento’s eyes widening at your words. A shot through the heart would have felt less painful.

A man had seen his wife’s pussy? Oh, that was impossible. He was probably too tired and had misheard your words. The Hell with that, he was never tired when he was with you. Kento Nanami had heard you correctly. He cleared his throat, hips still, whilst he gazed down at you.

“Noboru?”.

You swallowed forcefully, glancing at him from above your shoulder “Yeah?”.

“Are you perhaps implying you lied down on a couch, legs wide open, to let Noboru touch your pussy?” he inquired, voice calm and collected, even if his grip on your hips was getting bruising.

You nodded your head “And what if I did?”.

“Then I will accompany you the next time you want to get waxed. — Kento replied, giving you a warning thrust that made your breath hitch in your thraot — You know, I would not want our dear Noboru to just imagine the filthy sounds your pussy makes, when I fuck it. Let’s give him a show, darling. What do you say? Would he like to watch me fuck you?” he asked you, resuming his relentless pace.

His hand landing harshly onto your rear caused you to whimper out, sweat beading your forehead, as you regretted your choice to tease your beloved husband. His silent, latent jealousy was turning out to he too hot to handle. He caught a glimpse of you trying to open up your mouth to admit it was all a lie, but he shushed you with another spank.

“Hush, sweetheart. — he cooed, your whines a melody he would have never get tired of — I know you were joking. But we both were serious about trying to have a kid, right? Let’s start tonight. Fuck the dinner, I’ll cook for you later” he rasped out, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Oh, dear, your wobbly legs and the hot seed dribbling down the inside of your thighs were the signs the only two men allowed to see you naked were your husband and your gynecologist.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I always feel so giddy when I write for JJK. Hopefully, you’re going to enjoy this piece. I don’t think you guys will get a part two soon, but I do not close the door to that possibility.

Anyway, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @axesfordays @areyouflying

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

[slttygeto]

SWEAR IT’S JUST RIGHT FOR YOU. | NANAMI. K

જ⁀➴ synopsis: when you and nanami are equally as obsessed with each other, it creates this perfect balance. you cook for him, and he treats your pussy like it’s a blessing.

જ⁀➴word count: 3,3k

જ⁀➴ c.w: pure filth with a bit of fluff, soft dom! nanami, he turns a bit rough towards the end, rough facefucking, cunnilingus + fingering, dirty talk + praise, riding, multiple orgasms + squirting.

When Nanami praises you, it’s soft, gentle and endearing. His rough palm gently collides with the soft skin of your jaw and his thumb traces your cheek. He is reminding you of how much you mean to him, how he would burn the entire world if it meant keeping you safe and protected. You are his fairy, his delicate girl whom he could never imagine even raising his voice at. When he scolds you, his voice is stern and filled with worry despite the displeased tone, his hand grabs at your shoulder not to hurt you, and you want to caress your thumb over his forehead and get him to stop furrowing his eyebrows so deeply.

“You’ll get wrinkles, Ken.” Your voice pulls him out of his displeased state for a moment, and Kento hears birds chirping outside of the window and the sunbeam caresses your skin—It hits your beautiful eyes and he takes in every detail; your eyebrows, the slight discoloration the bottom of your jaw, the mole that seems to bring out the beauty in you even more, your eyelashes that aren’t curled but naturally have a pretty shape to them and he heaves out a sigh. He is consumed by love wherever you are near.

Heaven knows how much the man craved domesticity. He found comfort in it—a routine, a promise that when he comes home, he gets to take off his brown shoes at the front door, put his keys in the small bowl that has a mirror hanging right above it. He would then look at his reflection in the mirror and look away immediately when he notices the sweat stains as he removes his jacket. He hears your footsteps as you rush out of the kitchen with a pretty apron around your waist. You made bread, and Nanami isn’t sure whether to be infatuated by the smell of it, or the smell of your hair that hits his nostrils as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He wouldn’t care that your hair is slightly damp, but he would breathe out how the tank top you were wearing was going to get you sick if you don’t watch out. And Kento cares a lot about your comfort, he respects you a lot, so when you hug his sweaty self, his hands would gently try to remove your arms from around him and protest that he was dirty.

“It’s all hard work, Ken. I like it.” To which he wouldn’t say much but give in and let you hold him. He understands that to an extent, having a natural smell like this was attractive, he’s always told you that he likes it when you come home complaining about sweating too much and all he says is that it makes you even more attractive. Your flushed cheeks, your hair sticking up in small antennas, your nose scrunching up at how disgusting it feels to have your shirt cling onto your skin—

“Can I join you in the shower?” Which always catches you off guard, but you accept of course and Nanami sets his book down, he removes his glass and folds them neatly on top of the book before following right behind you in the bathroom. You giggle nervously when you see him close the door and lock it before leaning against it, and you let out a small and timid ‘what?’ when he keeps eyeing with the same intense eyes.

“You are beautiful.” He never denies that he is looking at you—admiring you, but instead reminds you every time that nothing in the world can change his mind about his infatuation with you.

And somewhere in between that comforting thought of coming home to you, a show playing on TV in the living room, bread baking in the oven and the smell of a clean home—Nanami dreams of fucking you stupid on the couch. He wouldn’t remove your apron, he wouldn’t let you wash your hands off of the flour—he would simply drop his pants, push your shorts down and spread your legs only to find out that you weren’t wearing any panties.

He feels sick to his stomach at thought, sighs and rubs his forehead at the fact that he was imagining such dirty things to do with you. If it were a normal fantasy like coming home and fucking you on the bed, he wouldn’t feel that bad. But that was the thing about fantasies, they existed in our head without our control, and it was up to us to act out on them or not. Kento cherished you too much to scare you off with his oh-so-called sick and twisted fantasy of his.

He comes home after a long day at work, and it’s a few minutes past seven. The house isn’t quiet, there is a show playing in the background and that was the first thing that had Kento stop dead in his tracks. He chooses to brush it off and simply rids himself of his jacket and shoes, sets his keys on the bowl before the smell of bread hits his nostrils and his lips part in confusion.

Was he dreaming? Did he somehow astral project into another dimension where his fantasy was a reality? It only confuses him further when you come out of the kitchen wearing an apron—in this reality though, you’ve chosen to wear one of his shirts instead, and Nanami doesn’t know if it’s better or worse. He tries to hide it, the way he can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you approach him with his shirt, fuzzy socks and hands that had traces of flour on them.

“You’re home.” Is how you greet him, your cheek resting on his chest and melting against his body as you breathe in his scent, a constant reminder that you get to be greeted with this sight five times a week around the same time. You boyfriend’s hand travels up to the back of your head and his fingers comb through your hair as he hums a tired response.

“Did you miss me?” Obviously, is what you want to say. But instead, when you look up at him and notice his hooded eyes, you feel his other rest on the small of your back and your heart leaps in your chest. All of a sudden, you feel hot and you feel something poking at you and you’re just surprised.

It was normal for your boyfriend to have needs, you were used to the sexual frustration that comes with having such a stressful job—but normally, Kento would avoid initiating anything with you until he’s showered and made sure he was clean. For him to insinuate that he wanted you, and so loudly with those eyes—you could feel your panties getting ruined.

“Pretty girl,” he calls out for you again when he notices your silence and the hand resting on your waist holds your chin whilst the other firmly grabs your hair. “Did you miss me?” He asks again, stern and you nod. You missed him too much, you realize. Because the lack of conversation beside greeting him and telling him he’s home—all of it was intensifying the sexual tension. It was almost like your body was warning you that Kento wasn’t going to go easy on you this time and you felt jittery.

“I missed you, Kento. Did you miss me?” You say as your hands grab onto his blouse in fists. You bring him closer to you, and gasp when you feel his hand travel down to hold your neck. He isn’t trying to cut your air, but when you make eye contact with him and see that his face has darkened, you let out a small noise.

“Let me show you instead.”

On the couch, Nanami wastes no time to attach his lips to yours and kiss you breathless. He was such a good kisser, always so passionate, always making sure to tease the corner of your lips before biting nibbling here and there—and fuck, did he lose his mind every time you tried to suck on his tongue. He would just push you on your back and cage you between his strong arms.

Nanami feels like he is constantly losing his breath whenever you are near, but when you grab onto his forearms and moan, he goes feral. Suddenly, he is reminded of how much weaker you are compared to him—frail, delicate, soft and sensitive to his touch. He is lucky, he is blessed and he makes sure to spoil you and that pretty pussy.

His kisses trail all the way down from your neck to your collarbones, his takes a whiff of your perfume and hums.

“You smell so sweet,” he mumbles against your skin. Instead of removing your apron and shirt, he pushes them up to reveal the cute panties that you were wearing and his finger traces the wet patch that’s already formed.

“Kento,” you call out to your boyfriend breathless, desperate—as though you were on a deserted island and he was the water to quench your thirst. Your legs spread on instinct for the man to settle between them and you feel his hot breath right against your panties.

“But you smell even better here… Right here,” he says and he pushes your panties to the side to reveal the wet mess hiding behind the fabric. You prop yourself up a bit higher to be able to look at Nanami while he eats you out, and you blush when you notice that he’s already staring at you.

“Up.” He pats your ass and you lift up your hips to allow him to remove your panties for you, but instead of throwing them on the floor, you see him take a whiff of the fabric and sigh and your blush darkens.

“Can I keep these, my love?” He asks sweetly, voice so deep you felt like your pussy was embarrassing you with how wet it was and you mindlessly nod. “Is that so?” He knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still wanted to thank you for trusting him with his perverted intentions.

“You’re too good for me.” Is the last thing that you hear from him before he dives between your legs and fuck—he is too good. You know Nanami is good, you don’t doubt that he can make you cum as many times as he wants before reaching his own high, but something about him eating your pussy like a treat, enjoying every drop and sucking on your clit with the intention of making you lose your mind—that was too much.

You feel his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks before smothering his face in your pussy. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue licks at your folds and you think that for a moment, maybe he is enjoying this more than you do. His hands grip your thighs to keep them in place, and when he notices that your legs are starting to shake and your hips are bucking up, he takes one look at you and his dick almost bursts.

Flushed chest, swollen lips and a fucked out face. If Nanami wasn’t already in love with your beauty, then he feels himself falling deeper for you. You fall apart on his tongue a couple of seconds later, he enjoys the way you gasp, moan and cry as he keeps his lips attached to your clit and you try to push his head away.

“Too much,” you gasp. “Kento!” you cry out when you feel his two fingers nudge at your folds and by this point, you are breathing too hard. You feel his thick finger prod at that one spongy spot almost immediately and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He presses a hand to your stomach and praises are spilling from his lips like a chant, watching as your soul almost escaped your body with every thrust of his thick fingers perfectly against your spot.

“That’s right baby, you’re doing so good,” “this pussy takes me so well,” “you make me so proud, look at this pussy—fucking filthy,”

The mixture of praise and him losing his composure and cursing has you reaching your orgasm again faster than expected. But this time, you make a bit of a mess and you try to apologize for ruining the couch and his clothes but he is quick to shut you up with his lips.

“You’ve just squirted on me, and you want to apologize?” he mumbles against your cheek, fingers still buried inside you and you whine.

“I made a mess,” you try to reason with your beast of a boyfriend but he quickly retreats his fingers back and delivers a harsh smack to your pussy.

“It’s never been a problem when it’s our bed, has it?”

“Kento,” you call out softly when your boyfriend starts to kiss at your neck again. “Kento, fuck my mouth.” Nanami’s brain short circuits at this and the shock is evident on his features. He doesn’t have time to stop you or protest because you are quick to get off the couch and on your knees for him.

“You’ve been so good to me, keeping me satisfied and happy—I bet you want to fuck my mouth sometimes, don’t you?” Your hands are quickly unbuckling his belt. You don’t remove his pants completely, only enough to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you watch as he throws his head back on the couch with each slow stroke.

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” is what he says as he tries to get you to back out of this, but you are determined to let him ruin your life. Him, the only man on this planet whom you would blindly trust with your life.

“I know what I am asking for.”

“I could hurt you,”

“I will tap your thigh if you do,” and then there’s a few moments of silence where Kento just stares deeply into your eyes. When you see him lean down towards you, your breath catches in your throat and your lips part in shock when his hand goes to the back of your head and the other one grips your jaw open.

“Open up.” And when you do, he rests the fat tip of his cock on your tongue. The pre-cum is a bit salty but you don’t say anything as you let Kento handle your mouth to his liking. He tells you to open up a bit more and breathe before he starts to thrust his dick in and out of your mouth at a slow pace.

You’re taking it well at first, but when you notice your boyfriend’s thighs shaking, indicating that he is holding back on you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you push his dick down your throat, nose nuzzling against his pubes and he curses out loud.

“Fuck--!” You repeat the same motion over and over again, and by the third time, your boyfriend finally breaks and starts fucking your mouth like a starved man. Your knees burn, and so do your lungs—the couch is moving every time Kento brings your head back on his cock and you’ve braced yourself on his thighs for support.

“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry baby,” he says between gritted teeth. However, when his eyes catch that you’re rubbing your swollen clit to the same rhythm of your head on his cock, something in him snaps.

He pushes you off of his cock, and any complaint you head is drowned out when he stands up and his cock stands proud. You look up at him from your spot on the floor and brace yourself on his thighs again when you feel him grab your face and push his cock inside your mouth.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he breathes out. “Can’t even let me be sweet to you—shit,” based on how difficult it is to even talk properly, you guess that he is close and so you sneak a hand between his legs and starts fondling with his balls—you squeeze them, and that’s when Nanami finally breaks and cums down your throat with a broken moan.

Even while trying to catch his breath, Nanami’s hands caress your face and neck as he takes a seat and pulls you closer to him. He then helps you get back up on your feet and pulls you on his lap to kiss you. He can taste himself on your tongue even after you’ve swallowed everything.

“Was I good?” You ask when he pulls away from your lips to kiss your cheek and down your neck once again, a pattern that he’s learned always turns you into putty.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect for me.”

You are surprised at how fast he gets hard again, but you supposed it’s also because you were literally grinding your bare pussy against his dick. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for support as you try to slip his dick past your folds, but you let out a surprised noise when he easily lifts you up and aligns the tip of his cock with your pussy.

“Noticed that you like my arms a lot,” he says and you are obliged to stare at his forearms and good lord—the way they flex as they hold you above his cock, Nanami lets out an amused chuckle when he sees a string of arousal drip directly on top of his cock. “You do like them, huh?”

“Baby,” you whimper and Kento cannot find it in him to tease you any longer. He gently drops you down on his cock and he immediately gets to work. His hand rests on the small of your back and pushes you towards him to press your chest flush against his, his hands then grip your ass cheeks and he starts to slam you up and down on his cock with so much ease.

You sound like a mess. The combination of your boyfriend’s strong arms and the tip of his thick cock abusing your spot turns you into a blabbering mess on top of him.

“So good, so good—fuck, oh fuck,” sounded like music to his ears. Your whines your moans, your fucked out look and your eyes begging him to ruin you—Nanami was addicted to every part of you.

And it only takes a few more messy and sloppy thrusts from him and you cum around him with a loud cry.

“There you go,” he says breathlessly, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him. “Make a mess on me, baby,”

You shake like a leaf on top of him, hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life and lips pressed against his neck.

“Think you can take a bit more for me? I’m really close, darling,”

“Hurry up,” you say desperately and as promised, Kento thrusts a few more times before he is cumming inside you with a loud groan. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent that has now been mixed with his own and a hint of sweat. He relaxes in your hold, hand tracing the small of your back as a way to get you to come down from your orgasm and perhaps even apologize for being a bit rough with you earlier.

All of his worries are brushed off when you pull away from him to press a kiss to his forehead, his nose then down to lips.

“I love you, Ken. I love you too much,” you announce, a hint of sleepiness to your voice and a smile finds its way to his face.

“I love you too, darling. I love you too much.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[rafesslxt]

slytherin boys hc realizing they were to rough after an argument and comforting you?😭🙏

thank u for requesting, have fun reading <3

✧.*𝑺𝑳𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 | 𝑨𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 + 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾

characters: mattheo riddle, tom riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy

warnings: fighting, arguing, fluff, mention of make up sex, so a bit smut

Mattheo Riddle:

let‘s be honest, he would definetly take a moment to realize he actually hurt your feelings

his pride and stubbornness would be in the way at first

but when he sees the first tears rolling down your cheeks he slowly walks towards you giving your forehead a kiss while hugging you tightly and swiping your tears away with his thumb

"I am so sorry princess, I swear you‘re right. I didn‘t mean it like that, you know that, right? I love you so much I would never want to hurt you on purpose. Can you please talk to me again, baby?"

he would pull you onto his lap and rock you slighty while whispering sweet things into your ear telling you how sorry he is and that it won‘t happen again

Mattheo would just cuddle you for the rest of the night and maybe have make up sex with you If you‘re not too mad at him

"I‘m gonna show you how sorry I am princess." he would be a MUNCH and eat you out, never stopping no matter how sensetive you got.

"Want me to stop? Come on baby, one more just one more I promise." his tounge would flick relentlessly over your clit over and over again, his green ties around your wrists making it hard to protest.

Tom Riddle:

bro would try to manipulate you at first and tell you you‘re overreacting and too sensetive but when you leave the room and don‘t try to reach out to him for a few days..

you got his head spinning

maybe he would wonder why you‘re ignoring him until he remebers your fight which he almost forgot because it was so unimportant to him

i think he would try to get closer to you so you had to talk to him

but when you still wouldn‘t and he notices the hurt in your eyes, he would wrap his arms around you from behind and whisper in your ear how sorry he is

he couldn‘t believe he really spoke these words but you meant too much to him to loose you over an stupid argument he couldn‘t even remember at first

"How difficult was that for you?" you ask when your little frown on your fave disappears and is switched with a smirk. He rolls his eyes and presses you against him, still whispering in your ear.

"Don‘t try your luck too much darling." While his fingers squeeze your sides

100% rough make up sex where he would punish you for not talking to him

"Fuck you think you can just ignore me? Act like I‘m not there?" while he pounds into you from behind, pushing your face down into the pillow.

"What was that darling? Couldn‘t hear you over all the noises you make."

Theodore Nott:

I have a splitted opinion on Theodore to be honest

on one side he would be the sweetest and comfort you right away without thinking twice about it

but on the other hand I also see him giving you a cold shoulder, also too stubborn and ignorant to realize how much he hurt you

but on either side, when he then would notice how you ignore him he would so something romantic to make it up to you

I just see him with a picnic prepared outside at the lake with your favorite snacks and a plushy for you.

"I‘m so sorry cara mia you mean the world to me, I never meant to hurt you. Please let me male it up to you."

After the picnic and you forgiving him he would pin you down, not giving a fuck who would see you If walking mear by

"Theo! Everyone could see!" you struggle against his fingers on your clit. "hmm let them see how sorry I am principessa."

he would pussy your skirt up and eat you out like Mattheo but without the whole overstimulation

when you come for the first time he wouldn‘t hesitate or waste any time to pull down his pants and fuck you next to the lake

"Fuck we should argue more often If that‘s the outcome of it. Me pounding your tight little pussy amore." You would shoot him a glare but moan his name right after, eyes rolling back

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He would be THE sweetest ever

but also he‘s someone who try‘s to stay calm during fights but then when he is really mad, he just explodes without thinking

as soon as he sees the first tear rolling down your face he would walk over to you and hug you so tight you almost couldn‘t breathe.

"God y/n I am so so so so sorry I swear it will never happen again! Shit I‘m so stupid I don‘t even deserve you baby."

when you would forgive him and already forgot about the fight you two had, he couldn‘t stop thinking about it.

he was just so sorry he had to show you somehow so the first thing that came to his mind was buying you something you wanted since forever

a fucking puppy

"Enzo! Oh my god you did nooot!" you said in a whiny tone about to cry from happiness

"No no no princess please don‘t cry I can bring him back If you don‘t – " "What? No!" you take him out of his hands and look down into it‘s cute face "thank you thank you thank you!"

after the day went by and you two got everything you need for your new baby, you wanted to thank your boyfriend

"Oh – fuck yes." he‘d groan while you ride him, bouncing up and down "Bloody hell I‘ll give you a whole damn zoo If that‘s what‘s going to happen after." he says while gripping your hips and fucking right up into your thankful pussy

Draco Malfoy:

he didn‘t know what to do at first, your cold shoulder towards him felt like a knife in his chest even tho he knew he deserved it

he said some things to you in an argument he wasn‘t proud of, too ashamed when he knew you only wanted the best for him

The only thing he knew was showering you in gifts which would work with little things but not this. You wanted him to apologize with real words.

after days of giving you gift after gift he realized for himself that it wasn‘t going to work.

"Darling? Do you have a minute?" he would ask to which you just nod slighty

He would take a deep breath before speaking " I am sorry for what I said. I truly am. And I never should have said that to you or let my frustration out on you I‘m really ashamed of what vame out of my mouth when everything you wanted was just the best mor me."

It felt like a stone fell from his heart after speaking what he had thought for days and your happy face told him it was just what you wanted to hear

"Shit y/n –" he groans when you take him deeper into your mouth, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"Just wait what we‘ll do after that pretty boy." you chuckled before taking him back knto your mouth and sucking him for dear life.

thank u for reading I hope u liked it 🫶🏻

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @danaeneocleous @sagetakami [if you wanna be removed tell me 💞]

xoxo sarah <3

[screampied]

thinking about kuna's gf trying to convince him to let her paint his long nails 😃

✩ ‧ ˚. — tags ⋮ fem! reader, pure fluff, heian! era sukuna, panting his nails, meanie kuna but he’s a softie, petnames: little one, woman, girl.

“no.”

a downcasted frown drags against your glossed lips once you sigh. sitting on no one other than sukuna’s lap, you huff out a single vexed breath. “huhh. what do you mean no, i didn’t even ask my question yet.”

“exactly,” he replies in a low voice, leaning back against the ancient, comfortable throne. for a fleeting moment, dark, sinister eyes stare into yours before he cocks his head. “you’re gonna ask me another one of your imprudent questions.”

“kuna, just let me ask you the question,” you protest, straddling the king of curses— it was never a dull moment with him, regardless of how grumpy he turns out to be. knowing sukuna, he’s almost always grumpy. his eyes gaze into you a bit longer and he then brings his thickset upper arms to cross near his chest, a cute pout on his lips as he waits for you to finish speaking. “pretty please?”

“…….fine,” he gives in, aware that you were probably gonna persist on asking him for who knows how many more times. with a sigh, he tilts his head at you. “what is it you wish to ask me, little one?”

smug grin and all, you pick up his broad hand that was so much larger than yours, brushing a thumb against his wrist before cooing, “can i paint your nails, sukuna?”

“no.”

“sukuna!”

he’s leaning back against his throne, the well raised chair sitting up all high and mighty—one of his arms repose near the lower part of his torso and wraps around your hip, pulling you closer.

“you already know what my answer was gonna be, no?” and this time, you give him a pout.

dewey red-shot eyes peer into you for a lengthy amount of time before he groans. that cute little pout of yours, you never fail to make everything so hard for him. “hmph. why do you want to paint my nails? they’re clearly already painted, woman.”

he’s trying..

you hold back a giggle before bringing one of his hands up to your face.

glimmering eyes focus on his nails, how naturally long they were— he had a point though, they were pretty much already painted. full on richly black, the tips of them were oh-so sharp he’d be able to cut about just anything. still, you wanted to paint his nails yourself. you couldn’t really come up with a good enough answer, so you just shrug.

“i just want to,” you hum in a soft voice, intertwining your fingers with his.

he scoffs, showing little to no reaction. with a puny eyebrow raise, you feel his right thigh start to gradually bounce. “please, ryooo,” you mutter, tugging your eyebrows into a pleading, needy furrow. “this way, we can match.”

“goodness, you’re so annoying,” he grumbles, watching your grin stretch as you dangle your own hand up in front of his face.

dark cruel eyes stare at your nails, observing how well manicured and painted they were. he sighs again, uttering out a raspy, “very well,” and he sits manspread, reaching for a nearby tiny table that resides against his infamous throne. “you may paint my nails. just this once.”

with a precious giggle, you grab about two bottles nail polish from your pocket, gently placing his hand down against the porcelain glass table. he’s keeping a sharp eye on you, rolling his eyes at how ecstatic you were on this. the way you treated his hands with such care—that cute little smile never once departing from your sheeny lips,

the moment you twist off the black tight cap that sticks onto the bottle like glue, the strongly loud aroma of the polish hits against his flared nostrils.

it’s heavily strong, the familiar scent of acetone wafts against his domain entirely.

“stay still, ‘kuna.” you whisper, gathering a good amount of polish. for a moment, you swear you could have heard a low growl escape from him.

oh, you were testing his patience.

you were testing sukuna ryōmen’s patience and he was letting you.

“good, good.” you give him a closed-eye smile.

“do not praise me,” he snarls, and he’s already embarrassed. his tone made an attempt to come across as more stern and assertive, but it was just so cute.

with daunting, glaring eyes, he watches silently at the way you softly brush the tip against his nail.

each individual nail took a few seconds each— oddly enough, it was wholly soothing for a while.

“hmph,” he bleats, feeling the softness of your hand skin against his hand every so often. you were so thorough, so precise.

delicately, you lay the brush flat against the bed of his nail. the bristles coat against the layer of his nail and you feel a brief coldness of air fan against your skin. it was rather amusing to watch you pay so close attention to him, to his hands. “hm,” he raises a brow for probably the nth time today. still scowling, his face softens a bit— you had him all relaxed. “you’re quite good at that, i must admit.”

“aw. thank you,” you cheese. with a grin, you give him a cute exuberant glance, pulling up his ring finger to paint the entire part of his nail with a freshly new coat. “how’s it feel?”

sukuna groans, not liking how sentimental this moment was. the entire mood was so … soft.

you made him feel soft— he always thought things like that just wasn’t possible. especially with someone as such as him.

who would have thought that painting the almighty sukuna ryomen’s nail’s would have him falling for you ten times harder . . ?

“it’s … good,” he utters in a gruff tone, and you’re just about done.

his eyes linger toward your hands for a long time, you’re still placed on his lap before you feel the curse’s lower arms grip against your waist tightly. you felt a feeling of abrupt security and it was quite nice. within his touch, you always felt secure. moments with him like this, you’d never be anywhere else. “hurry up though, my thigh’s cramping.”

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes with a snicker, bringing the brush towards his pinky now. he sticks it out for you, staying still as possible before you pause— dipping it back into the glass teensy bottle, swirling it, delving it around the inner crevices of the glass before finishing up his final finger.

the audacity,

the audacity of telling him to shut up, you must have been out of your mind.

but truth be told, sukuna has somewhat of a sweet spot for you. it made him kiss his teeth in sheer exasperation. he wasn’t used to such tender forms of affection. part of him wonders just why you’re always so warm to him. treating him with such care, he’s the king of curses after all, and yet here he is— acting like his long lost self, the king of love..

“alllll done,” you harmonize, he looks down to see the final results. with low hooded eyes, sukuna stares at his sharp nails— once black, now a light pinkish color. his mouth dangles opens and his face scrunches up, eyebrows curling together and it’s hilarious. for once, sukuna ryomen was speechless. “i know right? you’re gonna get so many compliments, ‘kuna.”

“you did not just paint my nails pink, woman,” he huffs out a grunt, you lean up close to him with a coy, impish look. “the nerve is beyond me..”

you giggle, flashing off your nails in his face, the two of you now having the same exact color. “oh, don’t be a baby. see, now we’re matching,” and his face is still all scrunched up. god, you had him feeling a feeling he didn’t even know he could feel. his stomach’s tight, churning ridiculously, his heart’s racing, and even his palms start to sweat. “with your long nails, you pull it off so well, heh.”

sukuna kept asking himself the same question the more he avoids eye contact.

why must you be so so cute..?

not a single reply comes from his mouth, instead he just crosses his arms into a mere fold. “mhm,” is all he replies with, tilting his head before resuming his words with an obstinate grouse. “whatever. but i’ll have you know that pink is not my color.”

you titter. “oh? what is your color then, my lord?”

you were being a brat, he sends you daggers before regretting he even said that— you always had the higher up on him, every single time.

“tch. nevermind that,” sukuna scorns, and his pout was so adorable.

pink stretched lips compressing together, stubborn as usual.

he brings his hand towards his face before exhaling lowly. “what in the— the nerve of you to put little sparkles on it too,” and he watches your smile beam at his live reaction. “i … don’t know what i’m gonna do with you.”

“you can start by thanking me,” you tease, planting your lips against his cheek.

he tenses up, the softness of your lips giving him whiplash for a moment. every time you present him either something as simple as a kiss, he was never prepared for it. “fine. thank you,” and as his bulky lower arms snake around your waist, he meets your brightly dilated irises. “are ya finished? i need a nap.”

“so old,” you stroke his cheek, and that earns a glare from him. “it’s not even the afternoon yet,” and you gift him with another mwah, the contact that your sweet lips provides has him growing more and more flustered. “but yes, i’m done ‘kuna. thank you.”

“…..good,” he responds after a long seven second pause. sukuna’s scowling before he finally returns your eye contact. his face was slowly getting more flustered from each kiss you give him before he tsks. “ah ah,” he creates a swift hand motion, “off my lap now, you’ve had your fun.”

you frown. “aw,” a sweet disappointed tone hiding underneath your voice. he’s then taken aback once he feels your humanly hands sneak their way into his hair. pink slightly curled up strands of his was a bit messy and tangled. the curse was still publicly pouting, studying your every move before you get an idea. “hm. one more thing though?”

he exhales. “what.”

“can i do your hair? i found some bows and—”

“count your days, girl.”

“stop flirting with me, ‘kuna.”

“….foolish woman,” and after a long dreadful pause, sukuna pouts yet again. so cute, his arms remain crossed before he speaks through annoyingly gritted teeth, an almost smile pokes through his lips that conceals his fangs. “fine. you may do my hair…. or whatever.”

[ghost-recs]

Sakusa Timeskip Recs

this is for you lovely @dontmindtheevie. thank you for your support and patience pookie!

the video call incident by @reverie-starlight

synopsis: you and sakusa enjoyed the secrecy of your relationship. after all, you both didn't want to imagine what would happen if the terrible three ever found out.

oneshot filled with humor, insults, and fluff. it made me unattractively cackle a couple times.

no secretes here by bunnytime [ao3]

synopsis: sakusa's teammates like to think they all know each other pretty well. how could they not know that sakusa was in a relationship? let alone married??

this mini series is so cute! pure fluff and msby chaos!

mine by @taeyamayang

synopsis: you always loved watching sakusa's games and supporting him. however, you didn't love what sakusa had set up for you.

oneshot, maybe a little ooc? but so adorable.

untitled oneshot by @chosobaby

synopsis: there's just one aspect of volleyball that sakusa does not enjoy...

lil "what if" scenario that i just love to think about!

specially made by @luvring

synopsis: you swear sakusa does not understand the point of a surprise. but you're not complaining.

dating pro-player sakusa scenario. just pure fluff

another untitled oneshot by @omi-boshi

synopsis: sakusa does not like answering his phone when he's on break. however, when it's you calling, curiosity gets the better of him.

reader just being a thorn in sakusa's side, but he's too down bad for you to complain.

Fresh Linens by emilyisfictional [ao3]

synopsis: your boyfriend is gone way too often, the only option is to steal his hoodies and sweaters. you hate that he washes them so often.

agh just more fluff and sakusa boyfriend scenarios that leave me melting

Drawing Our Moments by EdenxWrites [ao3]

synopsis: sakusa recalls the days he fell in love with you.

not entirely post-timeskip. has some flashbacks to high school but present day is set after high school. this oneshot caught me off guard.

hello, neighbor by @demxnscous

synopsis: you gain a new neighbor and he seems...interesting enough. well, his friend is definitely a character.

a meet-ugly oneshot that i wish had more parts...but ig that's what my imagination is for.

i also want to bring some attention to this fic: change of heart by heartcondemned [ao3]

i haven't finished reading it yet, but i'm really enjoying it. i also hesitate to rec it because it is unfinished and doesn't look like it will be... but give it a try if you're cool with that!

[sincerelyneo]

juno | l.hc

“one of me is cute, but two though…?”

💿now playing: juno by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Kids were never really something you thought about. But then you saw your sexy as fuck boyfriend playing uncle and now you can't stop thinking about giving him a baby of his own. What can you say...your hormones are high.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, established relationship

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don't do this!), swearing, breeding and pregnancy kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, begging, praise, creampie, slight angst not really idk, fluff, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just the reader getting baby fever from seeing hyuck with kids (very real el oh el.)

an: i know this is like my third haechan post in a week, but i literally don’t care. sue me x

You didn’t want kids. Well, that’s not true. You were indifferent to kids. 

That was until you saw your boyfriend with them. You didn’t think you could be more attracted to him, but then he had to go and check off the "great with kids" box. Maybe it’s just his playful side, but Lee Donghyuck is just so good with them.

And being forced to attend his niece’s first birthday party made you realise it. Honestly, you’d never given much thought to the idea of kids—cute yes, ready to give up endless nights of sleep, no. 

But the minute after you walked through his childhood family home and were done greeting his parents and siblings, a swarm of kids ran at him, hugging his legs and stomach. And he just melted into them, so gentle and excited. It was cute and made you smile. 

From then it was him letting his oldest niece cover his tanned cheeks in blush and stickers, to tossing a ball with his nephew after he announced he made the basketball team—and don’t even get started on him poking the chubby cheeks of his youngest niece, her soft giggles filling the backyard of the party. 

It was like he was in his element—soft, loving, and completely at ease. And even though his nieces and nephews had other uncles and aunts, they’d always say Uncle Hyuck was their favourite—even if they weren’t supposed to.

You watch him from the patio door in the kitchen, overhearing him tell his dad he’s “too young to be having the adult conversations,” which was really code for ‘let me play with the kids.’ 

Running around, telling jokes, creating games. It had your stomach turning and—were your heart strings being pulled? Seeing this absolute perfect man, so caring and playful, living just to make those little ones laugh and smile, had you seriously considering the sleepless nights that might come with having some of your own.

Wait. 

“He’s good with them, huh?”

You jolt, turning to see Hyuck’s sister standing behind you.

“Uh... yeah, I guess so,” you shrug. She steps beside you, and the two of you stand there, watching your boyfriend bounce his niece in his arms, soothing her gently.

She giggles, and you glance over at Hyuck’s sister again. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just... you’re looking at him like you’re ready to add to the Lee family name.”

You gasp. “I am not!”

She gives you a knowing look, and you bite your lip, eyes shifting back to Hyuck. This time, he’s handing his niece a sippy cup, tapping her nose. Your chest tightens.

“Okay... I suppose he is good with them.”

Hyuck’s sister nods, humming in agreement. “He always has been. With every younger sibling, every cousin—even when I had my first daughter, Hyuck was the most excited.”

He’s sitting on the grass now, all his nieces and nephews swarming him, tickling him. He’s being extra dramatic, letting the younger ones tug at his hair just to make them laugh. You stare, warmth and wholesomeness filling you.

“He’d make a great dad, Y/N.”

The statement is completely sobering.

“Uh,” you stammer, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.”

That’s not entirely true. You had spoken about it—once. You’d told him it wasn’t something you had planned for but weren’t necessarily opposed to, and the conversation had never come up again.

Hyuck’s sister blinks at you, clearly confused. “That’s crazy. Hyuck’s always said he wants to be a dad.”

Clearly. 

There’s no denying that. It’s so obvious—every second he’s cupping up the kids, tickling them, teasing them. He looks so profoundly happy, so perfect. And it suddenly clicks for you.

This could be yours. Forever. He wants it. And now... you’re starting to think you want it, too. Him, this, forever. His kids. Your kids.

“Y/N! Y/N!” one of the younger kids calls, waving you over from across the backyard. “Can you play with us? We need more people to play the monsters. Uncle Hyuckie can’t do it on his own.”

And just like that, you’re being pulled away from the baby fever conversation and coaxed into joining them—not that it took much convincing. Your thoughts were starting to scare you a little. You’d never seriously thought about kids—until now.

Because you’d never seen Hyuck look more attractive than when he was playing dad.

“I can’t believe she’s one already,” Hyuck beams from where he’s stretched out on your bed. He’s been talking about the party nonstop since you got home. “Did you see the little bows in her hair? So fucking cute.”

You glance at him through the vanity mirror where you’re sitting, watching the way his face lights up, animated and so full of joy. There’s a warmth in your eyes, your lips curved into a soft smile as you take him in. He notices, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?” 

You stand and walk over to him, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. His eyebrows knit together, more confused now.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

You smile, sidestepping his question with one of your own. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yess…?” he replies, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“Your family’s really nice.”

“Oh, are they now?” He squints playfully. “I saw you talking to my sister. I hope she wasn’t embarrassing me—she loves doing that.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “She wasn’t.”

“Okay…” he draws out. “Then what was she saying?” 

“That you’d be a good dad. That you want to be a dad.” 

Hyuck’s eyes widen and you mentally add this moment to the short list of times your boyfriend has been rendered completely speechless—still countable on one hand.

He coughs, his cheeks turning pink. “S-She said that?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“And…what did you say back?”

You spread his legs out on the bed so you can slide between them, sitting there and looking up at him as he waits, eager for your response. He’s so cute like this—adorable, even—clearly dying to hear what you thought.

“I didn’t respond,” you admit honestly.

You catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes, but he covers it with a laugh—though it’s not genuine. You can tell he’s trying to brush it off, trying to pretend that he’d be okay with the possibility that you might not want that kind of future with him.

“She shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I used to talk about it a lot as a kid. I don’t really think like that now. I can’t, you know… because of my job.”

“So you don’t want kids because of your job?” You ask. The tone in your voice takes him by surprise because now you’re the one sounding hurt. 

“Baby... is this a trick question?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. “No Hyuck. But I want you to answer it truthfully.” 

He shrugs, looking unsure. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to say—”

“The truth,” you insist. 

He pauses, his gaze softening. “I love you, Y/N. You said kids weren’t really part of your plan, and that’s okay,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere. “And yeah, maybe I always kind of thought kids would be in mine, but then I met you. And you became my plan.”

You grab a hold of his hand and squeeze. It draws a genuine smile from him before he speaks again. 

“I know we’ve never talked about it since. But I’m fine with anything—as long as it’s with you.”

You smile, his comment pulling at your heartstrings because you feel the exact same way. 

“Those kids absolutely adore you, Hyuck,” you say and he gives a half smile. 

“Well, I am their favourite Uncle.” 

You trail a soft finger up and down the naked skin of his arm. His eyes follow your touch and that furrowed expression is on his face again. 

“Y/N what’s going on with you? You’re confusing me—”

“You know—” you cut him off. “I think you’d be a great dad.” 

He stares at you, properly taking you in. He’s never seen this side of you before, and you’ve never given him a compliment quite like that before. The thought of you being into the idea of him as a dad… well, he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much. Maybe it’s the way your fingers brush his arm? Yeah no, it’s not.

“Today made me realise something,” you say, shifting to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck now. He raises a curious brow, waiting. “You look so hot with kids. The thought of you being a dad is so fucking hot, Hyuck.”

Hyuck smiles at the confession, and his hands move to grip your ass as he ground your hips forward on himself. You let out a small gasp of surprise as you feel him. 

“Please don’t joke like that, Y/N,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut. “Because I’ve been thinking about you being the mother of my kids since the day I met you.”

You giggle, biting your lip to stifle the soft moans escaping you as he grinds you slowly against his growing bulge.

“Well, why don’t you do something about it then,” you tease breathlessly, feeling the hardness of him through his sweatpants.

Hyuck’s mouth parts, caught somewhere between awe and shock, but before he can question how serious you are, your lips capture his, and your tongue is slipping inside his mouth to deepen the kiss.

The groan you both share is synchronised, and it’s all the encouragement he needs to flip you over, hovering above you with a renewed sense of urgency to make promise of your teasing. 

His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them off as you shift upward against your pillows, tossing your nightgown aside. Hyuck strips out of his own clothes, desperate to press his bare skin against yours, his need overwhelming any sense of patience.

He kisses you back roughly, passionately. Fuelled by your impossible hotness and readiness to be fucked—fucked by him. Your tongue dips deeper and deeper into his mouth, never satisfied, craving more of him. You cling to him, your hands and legs moving over his skin, desperate to feel every inch. Your hips roll up, slickness coating his shaft, causing a rippling gasp to leave his mouth. 

Hyuck pulls back with dark eyes. You—his girl—naked and desperate under him, begging him to do something about his baby fever—your baby fever. It’s the hottest shit he’s ever seen. His new favourite thing. His obsession. He loves seeing you like this, he decides—so willing, so desperate for him, for his cock. Needing him to bring you the pleasure only he can give. And he’ll make sure you remember that once you're carrying his child.

The image floods his mind—your stomach growing, swelling with his baby, the glow in your smile as you hold his child. A family, all with him. Only him. Because you want his kids.

The last thought pushes him over the edge, and with a low growl, he bites down on your neck, lips and teeth claiming your skin. He wants you marked by him—like always—but this time it’s different. It’s possessive. Primal. Feral. His saliva wet on your neck, dark bruises blooming over your breasts, his fingers burning prints into your hips, and his seed buried deep inside your soaking wet cunt.

His cock jumps when you roll your hips again, your whimpers causing him to groan and eyes roll back. You sound so desperate. Desperate to make him your forever. 

“Hyuck—” you sob as his teeth graze your nipple, sending it hardening under his touch. “Please, I need to feel you.”

His eyes sparkle with lust as he drapes your legs over his waist and leans down, capturing your mouth in a long, needy kiss. He aligns himself with your slick pussy, your fingers clawing at his back as he slowly eases into you. He fills you completely, lifting your hips to bury himself deeper.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he mumbles, pulling away to admire the way you take his thick cock. “Taking me so well, always so good for me, aren’t you, baby?”

You moan as his cock hits every spot inside you—so deep, so hard, so good. Each thrust drags along your walls in a way that feels divine.

“Can’t wait until you’re mine, so full of me,” he whispers, kissing your neck. You whimper, your walls clenching at his words, urging him to quicken his pace. “Do you want that, baby? Want my cum inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes—fuck yes—please.”

“Say it for me,” he requests softly, a gentle yet desperate edge in his voice. “Please tell me.”

“I want to be yours; make me yours,” you breathe out.

Hyuck's gaze drops to your lips, entranced by the words spilling from them. He thrusts harder, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer. Your cunt swallows his cock whole, turning his thrusts sloppy, and he groans.

You’re practically sobbing with how fast he’s driving into you, so close to seeing stars.

“You’re so good at taking me,” he praises, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me fill you.”

You squeeze around him, and the thought of cumming inside you sends a shiver through his thighs, making his breathing stutter.

“Yes! Fuck, please keep going,” You pant. 

“Want you so full of me that it’s dripping down your leg. And then I’ll push it back in when I fuck you again.”

Your breaths grow louder and quicker, matching his as you both teeter on the edge. He kisses you deeply, your mouths suffocating each other as you grip his soft brown hair. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight.

“Hyuck—I’m gonna cum.”

“So fucking good, baby,” he moans in awe. “I’m going to fill you with my cum. I want you overflowing with my seed—fuck!” He grunts hoarsely, his body tightening with tension.

Your walls shatter around him, tightening and fluttering on his cock as you cum. Hyuck holds you close, so intimately, holding himself deep inside you as he feels the first spurts of his cum shooting from his cock. 

He doesn’t stop, his hips still moving gently, making sure you take everything, softening each thrust with tender kisses along your bare shoulders. You sigh dreamily, fingers threading through his hair, and he smiles, still half-hard inside you. You’re exhausted, and the sight of your sleepy expression makes his heart twist. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, you stay like that—so close, so intimate.

But as the post-orgasm bliss begins to fade, a flicker of panic flashes in his eyes.

“Fuck—” he mutters, pulling himself off of you quickly. There’s a gnawing feeling in his chest, a sudden guilt. “Y/N, I’m really sorry, I got caught up in the moment. Do you want me to run to the store—”

“No.” You shake your head and grab his arm, keeping him close. “I don’t want you to. If that’s okay…”

His eyes darken with lust before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Y-yeah… that’s more than okay with me,” he says, nodding eagerly.

“Who knows?” You shrug with a teasing grin. “I might not even get pregnant this time.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “This time?”

You nod confidently. “Yeah, this time. Because we’re going to keep doing this until I am pregnant, Hyuck.”

His grin widens as he climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, especially not when I woke up this morning,” he laughs, pressing soft kisses along your neck.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. “What can I say? Seeing you in dad mode made me so fucking horny.”

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[roturo]

-; ੈ♡˳ MINISKIRT

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU TEASING THEM WITH A MINISKIRT! ★༉‧₊˚✧

(gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento)

contents: smut, nsfw, sub behavior, PRAISE, miniskirts, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, whimpering, overstimulation, edging, jealousy, sub-space, fluff, possesive behavior, all of them being DOWN for you, and lovesick for you.

A/N: wrote this while watching the office and drunk so npr, and proabably took so long to write because of this.

gojo satoru

He knows what you’re trying. That’s why he doesn’t give in. And it’s much more difficult when that tiny miniskirt is the color of his eyes, matching perfectly with a top as small as your skirt of his hair color.

Bending over the table just so he could see the matching panties while you ‘try to have a closer look to what Nanami is showing you’ – And he doesn’t know what angers him more, the fact you’re doing this to annoy him and probably other people behind you are watching your panties which he’s trying to cover with his body, or the fact Nanami is more likely watching your tits through that tiny top you’re wearing right now. 

He pinches the back of your thigh, making you squeak and sit again as a reaction– looking to your side finding Satoru giving you a glare easily expressing ‘stop what you´re doing’ – and maybe that’s what makes you more eager to tease him now that you’re feeling the wetness coming out of you.

And you know he’s suffering right now. Not only because he’s jealous, but because you’re giving a small piece to someone else of what he supposed it was his.

“Nngh- please baby, i’m sorry- but I couldn’t stand him watching how precious you looked” His cries went to deaf ears as you rode him, edging him for the third? fourth? time. He had some ‘childish’ (that’s what you called it) outburst because he couldn’t stand you teasing him like that, and suddenly after pinching your thigh moved you towards his lap after you sat so you could feel his raging erection and broke Nanami’s chair with the cursed energy he couldn’t control coming out of his body. Something completely new for him.

“Please princess, it was just- You’re so beautiful I can’t let anyone to- I… I just can’t get enough of you.” He ghosted his lips with yours, trying to kiss them but you wouldn’t let him. You were close to another orgasm too, he was yearning for your touch, begging to whatever god stronger than him so you could give him permission to cum.

Who would’ve thought, huh? 

If Mahito, Sukuna or any of those fuckers watched him lose control to a girl they woulc’ve laughed at his face, but if they experienced how good it was to be inside of you, feeling your liquids coat him and his pelvis while they come out of you— even though you don’t let him cum, they would’ve understand. 

But he won’t let them get even 2 meters near you.

You started kissing his neck, marks that will be very prominent in just some hours, his whimpers bringing you to heaven even with how slow you rode him, just one thrust and he swears he could cum– overstimulation taking the best of him, you just pecked his lips one time and did as what he imagined and failed to keep it in.

“Aw baby, you ruined it! Why couldn’t you wait for me? Wanted to cum so badly? It’s okay, but cum again, okay? Be my good boy and make me cum again mhm?”

geto suguru

Are you doing this on purpose? Or you don't really notice? He swears people could see his raging erection from 10 meters afar, quirks of having a big cock, i guess.

And it’s so fucking embarrasing trying to hide it with the shopping bags you gave him to carry, not only he looked in an awkward position while walking, but the friction– and having you infront of him walking with that mini skirt, would make everyone crazy.

He swears he could just cum while walking and watching your hips move and tease him with your body. 

But you just were clueless. Getting excited to find the store you were looking for and do small jumps which had him rolling his eyes to conceal his need for you.

And he was getting needy. Spraying kisses all over your neck when he back-hugged you, he was making it obvious now! Rubbing himself on you, he needed it.

When you finally arrived home, he couldn’t stand it anymore, throwing away the bags somewhere in the kitchen carrying you– having to steady yourself by grabbing what you could from his back and not fall face into the floor while your legs were hanging on his front.

He carried you all the way into your bedroom and dropped you down softly on your bed while he plastered kisses all over your thighs mumbling about how much he missed being between your thighs and how you’ve been playing games with him this entire day.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Geto finally give you what you’ve been planning this whole day. 

“You’re so perfect. So perfect f´me– and all you been doin’ this day was tease me with that tiny skirt of yours baby- had to control myself to not go crazy over ya’”

At times like this, where Geto is kneeling right in front of you with his face buried in the middle of your legs, you are grateful that you lived alone. Because it means you don’t have to hold back your moans when Geto swipes his tongue on your clit. You don’t have to hold back as he roams his tongue around your entrance.  You know you genuinely lost it when he wrapped his lips around your bud, giving it a hard suckle that made your hips bucked. Out of instinct, your hand went to his hair. Gripping around the strand of it just to push his head closer to your cunt, letting the tip of his nose pressed against it. 

He inhaled, he fucking inhaled to let your scent filled his nose as if his tongue isn’t enough to make you feel stars.  Soon enough, you are on your knees, with your face buried on your pillow, tears pooling around your teardox as Geto has his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue moves in and out your hole to build up your orgasm. 

“What happened to my teasing girl mhm?”

choso kamo

Poor him. How did he end up in this situation? He swears all he did was give a small peek through your skirt because how couldn’t he?!

You were bending in front of him! And you’re even meaner because you know he has a crush for you since….ever. Kinda embarrassing to be honest. Because he acts like a kid having a crush, even worse, like when a little kid had a crush on their old brothers/sister friends… 

But. He won't lie he loves when you punish him like this. Because you praise him for being such dork for you. 

"It's okay, baby, you're doing so well for me right now," you lean down and place small kisses on his tear-stained cheeks, his red nose with his black mark and his eyelids eliciting a broken sob from him, "Think you can handle a little while longer, puppy?"

And he’s not thinking very clearly right now– Not when you’re pumping his cock in that tempo that has him seeing stars and crying out loud for you.

“yesyesyesy princess– oh my god- oh my fucking god… i´m sosososoooo lucky to be here with you baby, I love you soo much, i’m so, fuck, nngh!”

He was coming for a fifth? six? time right now. He swears he heard something about you telling him you won’t stop jacking him off until he cums dry. 

Choso looked at you, sniffing and wrapping his hand around yours, "But I want to fuck you now..." He mumbled barely audible to you, and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath or you would've done what he told you to.

And he’s fucking excited for that. To fucking lose his mind and body to you. To dump all his cum wherever and whenever you wanted.

nanami kento

This little fucking pervert! He acts like this ‘oh so mature guy’ when he’s just as down for you as you are for him. He tried not to fall for you once he saw you for the first time in a mission both of you coincidentally crashed into. Being from another part of the world and suddenly connecting through these annoying curses.

But what annoyed him the most was how ‘inappropriate’ you are while working. Wearing those miniskirts of different colors for work. For work!

How is he supposed to focus? How is he supposed to train? Not when you’re moving your legs with that skirt that barely covers your butt and he easily sees the figure of it and your lips begging to be released to be tasted. By him. 

And you finally have him where you wanted, right between your legs. 

Your moans echo inside your bedroom, and maybe tomorrow you will have your neighbor file a noise complaint to you, but you didn’t mind. To have Kento’s attention only to you worth everything. 

At first, Kento wasn't the biggest fan of the size difference between you two, he felt almost too big compared to you.

Well, that was before he knew how good could fuck your needy cunt.

You were just barely holding onto his shoulders, leaving scratch marks that he would not even bother covering up, holding you with ease against the wall. "That's right, bunny, say my name and mark me, let everyone know I'm all yours, let them hear how good I fuck you," Kento whined and clung to you, feeling his cock pumping in and out of your small body, tilting his head forward to look down at the connection between your bodies.

The obvious outline of his length on your lower belly made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, your trembling legs wrapping around his hips, keeping his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, feeling it wanting to milk every drop of his cum.

"Fuck me, more... I need more of your cock kento, please~!"

[zyafics]

SHOTGUN WEDDING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Maybank!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe are nothing but casual. But when he suddenly has the idea to get married, you agree after some convincing.

Content — 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, blowjob, and banter.

Word Count — 2.2K

"Let's get married."

"What?" You say breathlessly, lifting yourself by the elbows and turning to face Rafe. You don't know if you heard him correctly.

"I said let's get married," Rafe repeats in a lower octave, pushing away the prickling feeling beneath his skin—a consequence of your reaction to his vulnerable declaration.

There it is again. Clear as day. You hadn't misheard him the first time, and the dawning strike of realization causes your heart to skip several beats. But you still don't acknowledge it. Blinking, you're trying to decipher whether this is some cruel trick. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Annoyance flickers through his hard features and you purse your lips, not wanting to provoke him further by providing a sharp-witted comment. Your mind is spinning—partially from all the orgasms Rafe pulled from you, but also from the proposition.

Marriage. Does he understand the absoluteness of that proposal?

You suspect he doesn't. "You're delirious," you brush it off with a casual laugh, wanting to admonish any potential embarrassment that may arise in him and to move forward. "Let's just forget about it."

"I don't want to forget about it." Rafe grits through clenched teeth. Your reaction is the complete opposite of what he'd imagined to happen. Sure, you weren't the type to jump for joy, but goddamn, you couldn't give him something? "You still haven't given me an answer."

"You don't want a real answer."

"I'm clearly asking for one."

"It's just the post-sex haze."

"It's called post-nut clarity," he rectifies, "And my mind is perfectly clear."

You're giving him exits, to pretend to forget about it and act as if it never happened, but Rafe takes none of them. He doesn't want to drop it, so, finally, you ask. "Why?"

A heavy beat passes before Rafe shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant when all he can hear is the thrumming of his own heart. "I like being inside of you," he reasons, before meeting the unimpressed look on your face, and adds. "You make me laugh."

You scoff. "Yeah, so do small children falling over. Get off of me," you shove him off, pulling to the ledge of the bed where your wobbly legs find balance on Rafe's hardwood floor. Not knowing how to process this change in affairs, you go search for your clothes instead.

Rafe watches as you scramble around the room, a reflexive habit of yours whenever you feel uncomfortable. His agitation flares, his jaw locks, and with a narrowed gaze that follows your every move, he pulls to a sitting position and rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

"Goddammit. Stop looking for your shit and look at me," Rafe commands, his voice bleeds with a tinge of desperation, forcing you to halt your recovery search to face him. Exposed. Utterly naked. But instead of Rafe making some sexual innuendo about your body, his eyes remain on your face. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because we've only been fucking," you list, using your manicured fingers to count out all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. "You call me whenever you want a hookup. We're never not arguing, and I swear, sometimes, you don't even like me."

"I like you just fine," Rafe shrugs a careless shoulder, but the conviction behind his tone wavers. "And all the other reasons are bullshit. So, what? If we get married, we can fuck and fight anytime we want."

"That's faulty logic," you retort and he rolls his eyes. "Plus, it's not the basis for a strong marriage. I'm giving you an out; you're not thinking straight, Cameron."

"I'm thinking just fine."

"You sure?" You take a step closer, about to raise three fingers in the air, and ask him to relay the count, when Rafe inclines forward to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling you in. You let out a little yelp of surprise, slotting between his spread legs.

He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, his thumb running absent patterns across your sensitive skin. With a low voice, Rafe asks solemnly, "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Have you not been listening?"

"Those aren't good reasons," he affirms, causing you to huff.

"Only you would tell a woman their reasons aren't good enough," you muse, drifting your hand to the nape of his neck. You tilt your head to the side. "What classifies as a bad reason?"

A beat passes before he answers. "You don't like me."

After he says that, Rafe holds his breath, his eyes searching your face to see any minuscule change in your features only to discover none. Your hand locates his chin, caressing the hard definition of his jaw. "That's not true."

Rafe exhales. "Then, it's settled."

"No, it's not settled."

He groans, tipping his head back, enough for you to see the grand column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs over your infuriating buffers. It's amusing, and for a brief moment, you envision a future where you get to do this forever. "Do you not want to get married?"

"I never said that."

"So, you don't want to get married to me?"

"Rafe," you sigh, and he returns his gaze. You're referring to him by his first name, instead of the adorned Cameron, and his skin tightens at whatever you plan to say next. "You're a Kook. I'm a Pogue. We're barely in a relationship, and I doubt your parents would approve of this."

"Fuck what they'd say," he admits, with the relentless urgency behind his voice. He means it. "I want to. Since when do you care about what other people think?"

"Since I'm going to be entering into said family."

You say it with such dolefulness, that it sounds like you already accepted his proposal. Already imagined a future with him. The corner of Rafe's mouth lifts; he just needs to do one more thing to convince you.

Rafe hoists you onto his lap to straddle him, your ankles on either side of his waist, as your naked core rubs against the side of his cock, the sensation quickly hardening his erection.

Expecting him to lift you onto his tip, Rafe surprises you by swiping his fingers through your wet folds, causing a small whimper to rise from the back of your throat. "Listen to me," Rafe rasps, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone before lowering to your breasts, while the tip of his fingers toys with your entrance. "You've given me your reasons why it won't work, I'm going to give you my reasons why it will."

"I'm not going to change my mind,"

"You sure?" Rafe grins, teasing your slit. Your walls clench around the nothingness, desperately needing to be filled, and it causes you to bounce up and down, rubbing yourself against Rafe's hardened cock. Your hands land on his shoulders for steadiness, and that's when he begins to pump you.

"I think we look good together," Rafe lists with a grunt, feeling your pussy rub against his length. Desire pools inside of Rafe, his cock throbbing, but he concentrates on the task at hand, adding another digit. "You're the only person that keeps me on my toes—fuck," he groans, and you smirk.

Your slickness covers Rafe's cock, but you don't sink down on it. "Are you sure you're going to win this?" You murmur against the shell of Rafe's ear, planting feather-light kisses along the edge of his jaw. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, needing to gather himself before he slides in his ringed finger—the cold singlet grazing your heat, making you gasp and stop your movements.

Rafe holds your hips, while his fingers fully thrust inside of you with such vigor and performance, that a rich moan rips from your lips. He concludes his final reason: "And I get to fuck this every single night."

His darkened eyes lift to meet your hooded ones. His fingers work a steady but increasing rhythm inside of you, the coil of familiar pleasure twisting your gut. "Look at how pretty you are coming undone by me. Don't you want this forever?"

"Shut–shut up, Rafe," you whimper, your hands reaching for his arm between your legs, attempting to slow down the pace as your sensitivity is plowed into overdrive. Rafe snatches your wrists into one hand, dragging them away. "Too much."

Your legs attempt to close around him, but his large frame prevents such a thing. Rafe grins at the look of pleasure blooming on your face, the unsteadiness of your breaths alongside your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he fastens his strokes.

Whimpers and moans escape you in rising increments, and Rafe kisses your mouth, swallowing all that noise and desperation and need. "Say yes," he murmurs against your tingly lips.

"N–no," you refuse, still holding an ounce of restraint.

But Rafe simply laughs. His fingers slow its assault, leaving your mind a completely boggled mess. Nothing but the sensation of your orgasm on the near horizon resides, hooked completely on fulfilling your own pleasure, that you can't think of anything else to do but whine.

He looks back at you, sincerity capturing his face. " I like you, Maybank. It'll be fun to make it official."

"I—" You can barely comprehend a single word he's saying, the fizzling of your orgasm dissipating as you desperately try to wield it back in. "I can't think right now," you whimper, lowering yourself to give him a needy kiss, "Make me come first."

He doesn't need another reason before he reenters you, his thumb circling your clit and massaging it as his fingers thrusts in and out. Sounds of wetness echo throughout the quiet room, and when Rafe leans forward to add another mark—biting a sensitive spot on your neck—you unravel with a loud cry, tipping your head onto Rafe's shoulder.

Rafe guides you through your intense orgasm, your walls clenching around him so hard, they barely can move. Slowing his thrusts until it completely fade away, when Rafe pulls out, he presses his slick-covered fingers on the dip of your bottom lip, forcing them apart to lick clean. And when you do, he pulls you back in to seal it with a kiss.

Your chest rises and falls heavily as your eyes close for a moment of respite. Rafe's gaze, however, never strays from your face—patient and waiting.

This is such a bad idea. The whole premise of a Cameron-Maybank marriage could potentially knock the earth off its axis. You're from two different worlds and carry different viewpoints, but there's something fun, exciting, and fulfilling in being with Rafe. It can't be just because he gives you one of the best orgasms of your life.

You know JJ would hate this. He barely tolerates the idea of your hookup with Rafe as it is, and out of everyone, you value most of your brother's opinion. But, for once, you can't seem to find it in yourself to care.

"Fuck," you announce, reopening your eyes and meeting his stare. "Fuck it. Let's do it."

Rafe's lips pull to a genuine smile. "Yeah?"

You nod. "It'll be fun."

He grabs your hand, "Let's go."

"Right now?"

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already?"

"You think I back down from a challenge?"

"It isn't the first time."

You slap his shoulder and Rafe laughs. He moves his hand to your hips again, lifting you off when you stop him. "Wait," you say, looking between you, at the red and swollen cock that hasn't gotten its release. "I have to do something before we leave."

You sink to the floor on your knees, still between his legs, as your thumb rubs the pearly beads of precum over the tip, causing Rafe to groan. He was so focused on your pleasure and making you agree to his outrageous proposal, that he didn't get a chance to relieve himself. You want to help.

After all, isn't that the first step to marriage?

Taking him into your mouth and tasting your slick rub all over him, you hollow your cheeks as you begin to suck. Rafe moans from the contact your lips made with his length, your hand wrapping around the base to steadily pump him alongside the suction.

It feels like absolute heaven. His hands thread through your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock, and making you gag on the girth. This made you retreat, just slightly, to glare up at him. "Don't do that."

Wanting desperate release, Rafe's willing to listen to about anything. "Yes, ma'am."

When you return to sucking him off, Rafe makes sure not to push you further on his dick without prior approval, so you can take him appropriately. At least that means he'll listen to you in the marriage. As you steadily increase your pumps, and your jaw aches from the stretch, you feel Rafe's cock twitch.

"Come on, baby, come for me," you command, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Not even a moment later, he comes inside your mouth, spilling to the back of your throat, and you swallow up every lick of his hot cum.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb, and Rafe assists in pulling you back to your feet. Giving him a kiss, you grin. "Good boy. Now, let's go."

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