#i understand both of their fond gazes

[xiaobaosnoona]

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[sttoru]

‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’

☀︎｜tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.

“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.

megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.

toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;

which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.

“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.

toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”

megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.

“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.

your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.

he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”

“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.

you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.

you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.

you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.

that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.

“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”

the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.

toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.

his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;

“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”

before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.

the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.

“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”

the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.

toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.

“wah! mama. . .”

even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.

“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.

your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.

you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.

“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”

“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.

and. . . there they go again.

your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.

you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.

time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.

and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.

[jigeuminunbich]

what a girl wants | park jisung (m)

synopsis — after tapping out early into your first-time, jisung refuses to be a fool in front of you again. gathering reinforcements, he arms himself in preparation to please you when the next time comes for you both to be intimate. and boy, does he learn a lot.

genre — nonidol!au (inexperienced!jisung x experienced!reader), fem!reader, mature (smut), and established relationship

minors dni, please ! (nsfw tags under the cut)

content — probably needs another proof read, men explaining sex, multiple scenes of ji lasting a millisecond (jk, jk), pet-names (pretty, babe, baby), reader naturally takes on a bit of a dominate role, brief missionary, cunniligus, overstimulation, hair-pulling, unprotected probone, even more missionary, ear play + sucking, creampie, and a tiny off-hand joke about dh offering to fawk jisung

word count — 6k

author’s note — listen, ik virtually everyone came out of tds3 loving chenle (rightfully so) but personally, i’ve been on jisung timing since my stop teehee 🤭

I. ACT ONE

Jisung had dreamed of this moment much more than he’d care to admit to. You both had been dating for nearly a year and had yet gotten to the point of stark intimacy, well, until now.

It was breathtaking really, seeing you under him. He couldn’t believe this was his reality, that you were actually doing this with him. That was all he could think about when you first initiated it. He let you take the lead, per usual, but this time it reached a point where he was eager to agree when you asked if he was ready.

Though, at this moment, he was coming to regret that excited confirmation he had delivered earlier.

“Oh,” you verbalized from the junction of Jisung’s neck following the sudden stall in his movements. “Did you…?”

A faint whimper escapes from Jisung’s lips, visibly coming down from his evident climax. You watch as Jisung’s eyes flutter open, his face soon contorting into a look of sheer horror, dropping his head to where your bodies met to witness the scene completely for himself.

“Oh my god…” he mumbles in what you read as bewilderment, his head snapping back to speak to you.

“___, I am so sorry.” Jisung sputters out immediately.

A fond laugh fights its way through you, and you shake your head to mask it away. “No, no. It’s okay, Ji’…”

You try to comfort him, but his flushed face remains puffy with frustration. Your hands that come to coddle his bloated cheeks do little to soothe his nerves. Jisung huffs, undoubtedly upset with himself.

“Hey, look at me.” You urge his gaze to meet your own, he finds your eyes soft and a tender smile playing at your lips. Jisung finds his heart rate slowing at this, the pad of your thumb that smoothes over his tense jaw aiding in his relaxation.

“We can stop, if you want?”

Jisung inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as if once he opens them back up that this moment will have never happened. But you’re still there, waiting patiently for his answer.

He thinks for a moment. There was a thought that spoke to him, to keep going as he knew how long you both had waited for this night. But the weight of his reality felt like it was physically crushing him too much to listen.

“Uh, yeah. I think that’d be best…” He answers meekly and you reluctantly nod.

His room falls silent besides from the rustling of you assisting him with pulling out and the bed creaking under his weight as he plops in the spot next to your body. You regretfully sit up after only experiencing time on your back momentarily, sparing a solemn look to Jisung who’s large hands hide his face.

“You okay?” Your voice is gentle as you probe him.

Jisung clears his throat, revealing his face briefly when he sits up on his elbows to address you. It’s painted a furious pink from what you assume is his embarrassment and shimmers with sweat. “Yeah, I just—uh— need a minute.”

Understanding of him, you decide to slip away to handle yourself. “Okay, well, I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“Mhm.” Jisung nods, watching you intently as you slide from the mattress, grabbing his once discarded tee, and trail to the nearby bathroom before disappearing behind the door.

His body meets his bed again with a thud, shielding his hot face away with his hands once again.

II. JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE

It takes a number of business days before Jisung can even work up the courage to see you in person, let alone mention what had transpired that night. The memory had been gnawing away at him since, every time he blinked, or tried to sleep, your nonplus reaction to his “premature” arrival was all he could see.

There was no way he could bring it up in conversation just yet… at least not to you.

“You what?!” Renjun exclaims in absolute horror.

“He lasted thirty seconds!” Chenle gleefully responds for Jisung, still coming down from the belly-splitting laughing fit he had just went through before informing Renjun.

Brazenly (and stupidly), Jisung had decided he was fed up with his set of circumstances— trusting his best-friend and roommate, Chenle, with the information that had landed him in this unfortunate position.

But very quickly, he realized just how much of a mistake that was.

Jisung sighs frustratedly— sparing the brunette a piercing glare before angling his attention back to Renjun, “It was more like a minute and a half…”

“Oh, Jisung, that’s still not good.” Renjun comes over, slowly sitting on the opposite side of his junior.

“I know.” Jisung physically slumps in his spot, a cutesy pout on his face.

A tight-lipped, earnest smile graces Renjun’s face and he places a comforting hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “Did you at least help her?”

Jisung asks blankly, confused. “With what?”

Renjun pauses alongside Chenle, both of them sharing a horrified look while Jisung looks between them like a neonate dear.

“You didn’t help her?!” Chenle screeches, eyes bulging and eyebrows angled in complete confusion.

“Do what?!” Jisung bellows, now frustrated.

“Jisung, even I know what you’re supposed to do for your girlfriend in the event you.. finish early…” Renjun voices deeply and careful enough for his friend’s digestion.

Jisung pauses for a moment, picking apart Renjun’s words before making a face of understanding.“I— oh, well she said she’d take care of it!”

“Still,” Renjun sighs, taking a moment to calm himself. “you’re supposed to offer, man.”

“I’ve got to tell Mark about this…” Chenle shakes his head, already typing in the group chat.

III. SECOND OPINION(S)

“Dude…”

Mark’s face is twisted in an expression Jisung can only decipher as disbelief, a common emotion he’s encountered since filling in his friend group on his situation.

“I know, I know. It’s not a good look.”

Donghyuck scoffs amusedly, having stopped in on the conversation after overhearing the absurd topic. “It’s an awful look, actually. How do you cum in thirty seconds without getting your girl off after?”

“It wasn’t—“ Jisung sighs, gathering himself. “I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing.” He recedes, sinking into the material of the couch that supported him, Mark, and Jaemin.

“Well, ___ knows this, right?” Jeno pipes from beside Donghyuck after remaining silent the whole debriefing session.

Jisung shifts in his spot, shrinking from the burning gazes of his friends as they wait for him to overshare. “Yeah, I mean, we talked about it before. But she has experience, and— I dunno— I thought I’d at least do okay…”

“Ah, Jisung. No ones ever perfect doing anything for the first time.” Jaemin plants a rather rough yet consoling pat on the younger’s back.

“I was.” Donghyuck interjects, a smug look on his face while shrugging his shoulders.

Renjun scoffs, shoving the back of the former’s head from his positioning— leaning over the same couch Donghyuck happened to be sprawled across. “You cried.”

“Aht!“ Donghyuck rubs his head, snapping around to correct his friend. “That was the second time!”

Mark sighs deeply, drawing the attention away from his friends’ squabble. “Jisung, have you both talked about it since?”

Jisung anxiously plays with his ear, pouting. “Well, no, even if I wanted to I just don’t know what I’d say…” It was a true concern for him. He had muddled over the scenario in his about a dozen times at this point, and every time he couldn’t find the appropriate words to say to you— even if you weren’t even really there.

“Sorry for only lasting thirty seconds?” Chenle wickedly suggests, earning yet another warning glare from Jisung.

“Ou, if you don’t know how to say it, you could always get a cake!” Donghyuck piles on, promptly earning another wack to his head— this time Jeno is the unamused culprit.

“Look, next time you see her, just be honest.” Jaemin advises, effectively drowning out the whining of his battered friend who claimed Chenle deserves the lashings because he commented first.

Jisung nods, considering it but not with another issue forming in his mind. “Okay, well… what about… you know...”

“The sex?” A handful of them chime in response.

The younger boy’s lips form a tight, shy line, obviously still finding the topic a bit taboo. “Yes, yes— that. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want a repeat of last time…”

“Just watch a bunch of porn, that’s what I did.” Donghyuck recommends, still testing his luck.

Exhausted, Renjun simply lets his eyes pierce into the back of his friend’s head for a moment before sighing.

“How about we don’t do that and just give you some pointers, hmm?”

Jisung claps his hands together, liking that nugget of advice way more than Donghyuck’s, who sits offended, tongue infamously poking his cheek.

“Okay, sounds good.”

IV. H.T.P.A.S.Y.G 101

Now, when Jisung was told that everyone would be meeting in he, Chenle, and Renjun’s shared living room to “give him pointers”, he didn’t necessarily expect to be surrounded by his friends while his television displayed a slide show.

Surprisingly, Donghyuck ran the operation with his laptop perched on the armrest on the opposite couch, even after his treatment the other night.

“Alright, Jisung, welcome to how to please and satisfy your girl 1-0-1!” Donghyuck stands at the center of the room, gesturing towards the screen that projects the title ‘H.T.P.A.S.Y.G 101’— along with throwaway stock photos of couples experiencing varied emotions.

“Woah. Did you make this?” Jisung voices, foolishly impressed with his friend’s set-up.

Donghyuck’s facials drop, “No. It was already a template on Canva.” He deadpans while Jisung makes a motion of understanding.

Collectively, his friends blink ludicrously at Jisung’s naïveté. “He made it, Jisung-ie…” Jaemin clarifies slowly.

“Ah,” the latter nods, embarrassment creeping up his skin.

Donghyuck shakes his head before putting the attention back on the screen where he flips to the next slide, automatically does Jisung pull out his phone to retain the coming information.

“Okay, first rule, don’t come in thirty seconds.”

A cacophony of snickers and tittering emerge from the group at Jisung’s expense.

“I— how long are you guys gonna run with this?” Jisung cringes, regretting all over again even including the detail of his duration.

The man in the center staggers back into his spot, pretending to wipe away fallen tears. “I’m sorry it’s too funny…”

“Now! It may seem hard but the last thing we want is a redo of what happened last time, yes?” Jisung nods shamefully, lips tight.

“Next rule, be a giver. Down the line you can find out whether or not she prefers it but to start, you wanna take charge and get your girl off.”

Jisung hums, his focus being the ever growing list on his phone-screen. Curious, Jeno peers over at him.

“A—are you seriously taking notes?” He furrows his brows at the open tab in Jisung’s notes app.

“Hey, he’s a diligent learner!” Donghyuck waves a warning finger towards Jeno before turning to reassure Jisung. “Don’t worry, Jisung, the best students study.”

He addresses his older friend’s defense of him briefly, already having questions about the lesson. “When we say… get her off— what do you mean?”

“Eat her out, Jisung.” Chenle interjects flatly.

“Oh.” Jisung’s head bobs slowly. “And how do I do that?”

The “teacher” sucks his teeth, “Christ, do we have to teach you everything?”

Jisung just blinks in response, earning a tired sigh from Donghyuck, “I’ll send you some material after class.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods.

“Third rule! Take it slow. Kind of ties back into rule one but can be used elsewhere. Listen, I know you’re a bit of a fumbling mess but at least try and make it seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the directed jab, Jisung continues to diligently jot down Donghyuck’s advice.

“What does ___ like, do you know?” Mark pipes.

“Sexually?” The boy’s eyes go wide, a bit startled.

Mark snorts, “I’m not asking for her favorite food, man,”

Jisung breathes out a sheepish laugh, “Ah, well, she’s kinda sensitive around the ears…”

Donghyuck claps, startling Jisung but effectively grabbing his attention, “Alright, involve that! Kiss, lick, suck for all I care. You gotta do something that’ll turn her on, you can’t just whip your dick out and stop there, got it?”

“Got it.” Jisung re-affirms, intently copying down every word that leaves his friends’ mouths.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” Donghyuck nods, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank god.” Jaemin sighs exasperatedly, earning himself a warning look from Donghyuck. The latter rolls his eyes, smiling at Jisung who overviews what he’s learnt so far.

“You seem like you picked up well, I’ll quiz you after you watch the material.”

Jeno snorts, “You do know you’re not an actual teacher, right?”

Donghyuck smugly smirks, propping his hands onto his hips.

“Don’t be a hater, Jen’. If you want a lesson, you can just ask. Don’t think I forgot about what Iseul said— agh!” Swiftly, Jeno starts strangling Donghyuck to cut him off, the ladder dramatically flopping on the couch behind him and taking the older boy with him.

Using the commotion to his advantage, Renjun swoops in to take a seat next to Jisung, who quietly reviews his notes in the midst of the chaos.

“And Jisung,”

“Hmm?” The younger glances up from his notes.

“Don’t forget that the reason we’re here is because ___ likes you. Not what you can do for her in bed or any tricks these idiots are telling you to do…”

“Ah, okay.”

“I mean, we all mean well— even Donghyuck— but what matters most is that you’re yourself. That’s what ___’s most attracted to, right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Jisung answers hesitantly.

“Right. Maybe you should watch that video Donghyuck sends you, though.” Renjun suggests a bit quieter, though his urgency remains evident.

Jisung laughs at his older friend, nodding in understanding. “Will do!”

V. ACT TWO

The next you spend genuine alone time with Jisung is two weeks following the whole incident, you’re grateful that he’s grown comfortable again with skin-ship. Missing nights like these where you two were able to wordlessly cuddle up together without an evident damper hanging over the room. Of course, you’d love to address that night. Maybe even give it another try but unless Jisung makes it clear that he’s comfortable with it, you suppress any and all thoughts about it.

Much to your liking, the night carried on like usual. No roommates to interrupt your skinship, or to witness the chaste kisses you gave each other. But in the midst of watching the second film Jisung had gladly let you choose— you realize just how touchy he’s getting.

A typical reserved hand that would be perched on your hip was playing with the hem of your shorts, igniting the bare skin with every brief graze.

Curious, you angle your head upwards on Jisung’s shoulder, immediately drawing his attention from the screen and down to you.

“You okay?” You inquire, an eyebrow raising. You tried to hide your excitement but the grin that found your features was an obvious giveaway that you were losing.

Jisung simply hums, his hands still stationed in their new territory. You nod, “Okay…” and instinctively crane your head up to signal a kiss.

Quickly, Jisung obliges, meeting you halfway and connecting your lips. Your intent was for it to be just like the other kisses that happened tonight. Quick, sweet, no alternative intent, but that was clearly not Jisung’s shared intention.

When you depart, he follows, and you have no problem in giving him what he wants. The kiss is extended, the hand on your thigh tightening in grip. You match Jisung’s vigor, equally biting at his lips and easing your tongue in his mouth when his own licks at your entrance. But you have to say you were not expecting this.

Soon, Jisung’s body was angled nearly on top of you and he showed no signs of stopping. Both hands now on your waist as he titled you backwards, still intently keeping your mouths fixed together.

“Oh, hello?” You manage to get out.

“Hi.”

Jisung takes control, which is very unusual since typically you’ll straddle him when making out. But you allow it to happen, your back meeting the bed as Jisung kisses you passionately. This kiss is much different than one you’ve ever shared with him, normally he’s way more reserved— even before your first time he was shy, but obviously a fire has been lit under him to redeem himself.

You’re the first to pull away, not moving far but just enough to be able to catch your breath. Jisung has never kissed you speechless before, but you’re okay if this was to become your new reality.

“Jisung…”

He ignores you, kissing down your neck while his large hands grope you. He's hungry, his teeth grazing against your skin in rotation with his suckling but his bruises still feel like heaven— you didn’t even know he was capable of leaving such marks.

Jisung’s cold hands are suddenly under your shirt, lifting the large garment that once belonged to him over your naked breasts. One of them even snaking down to your thin sleep shorts while the other remains to thumb at your now perked nipples.

“Oh— Jisung, wait!” Pausing your pleasure to confront your boyfriend.

He looks at you in surprise, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask carefully.

“I wanna make you feel good…” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you blink— slowly gathering yourself as Jisung continues to kiss down your abdomen and eventually to the center of your legs.

You stutter when you feel his hot breath on your core, it’s been so long you’ve had anything like this, you hate to say you’ve been waiting on it but fuck— you have been.

“Ji…” your hand cups the back of his nape, the other replacing his hand that once toyed with your chest.

Jisung gazes up at you, a look that reads that he’s asking you for permission. He quickly drinks up how he’s got you, shirt pushed to your over your breasts— leaving them on display, you look down at him— almost pained while you wait for his next move, lip tucked in between your teeth— a thumb to your own nipple.

Final inch of resolve snapping, Jisung flattens his warm tongue over your sleep shorts, humming instantaneously when his muscle meets the fabric. It’s lewd but he can’t help himself, especially when he encounters the already wet stain in the seat of your bottoms. He quickly gets to work, though, savagely his tongue ravishes you with one measly layer keeping him from fully tasting you.

The sight is one to see, your routinely sweet and respectful boyfriend with his head between your legs— tongue lapping and dancing around your cunt through your shorts.

You can barely take anymore, you need him. You didn’t care what his level of skill was, you needed more stimulation than this.

Jisungs jumps back a bit when you sit up to interrupt him, the shorts being slipped off. “Ji, please, please, keep going,” both of your legs are back on either side of his head, this time your bare, silky cunt on full display. No longer hidden by the baby blue bottoms.

You’re practically begging, your hips involuntarily shifting closer and closer to Jisung’s face as you wait. Jisung couldn’t believe his eyes, you’ve never really begged for him before. Not like this, so vulnerable. His tent had pitched ages ago but the strain he felt watching you now was a different kind of pain.

His newfound confidence falters a bit, wordlessly nodding up at you with wet eyes before obediently lapping at your cunt again. You throw your head back as a whimper rips through you, shifting back onto your elbows to play with your chest again. Not forgetting to keep one hand anchored in Jisung’s hair.

His movements are cautious at first, proving that this is definitely his first time but once he finds a pace that seemingly fits you best, he carries on with it. He alternates between sucking your throbbing clit to dipping his tongue deeper in your folds to tongue at your hole. You’d ask him where he learned that from but you’re too caught up with how good it feels that the question burns out on your tongue.

Before you know it, you’re close to coming already. With it being so long since you've had this, paired with the uncontrollable moans Jisung emits as he restlessly laps up all your juices, you can’t take much more.

“Fuck, Jisung. I’m close…”

Jisung hums, unaware just what that does for you. You whine pulling his hair tighter, in return it’s his turn to whimper. It’s uncomfortable, as he’s realized from the past times you’ve tugged his hair but he would never stop you.

“God, please don’t stop,” With Jisung’s locks entirely in your grasp, you can’t stop yourself from grinding your cunt upwards. Jisung takes a beat to adjust but realizes what you want, he shifts down a bit. The tip of his nose giving your clit the friction it so desperately desires while his tongue draws sloppy circles around your entrance.

You groan, the knot in your stomach tightening. You’re almost intelligible with your blubbering but Jisung manages to make out that you’re— in fact— about to come.

Jisung takes what he’s learned from his lessons and even earlier from this encounter and lets his tongue dip in and out of your hole faintly, giving you little stimulation that leads you closer while you grind on his face.

His quick shift leads your orgasm to come crashing down on you. Jisung’s face is pulled flush to your pussy as you come but he could care less, he watches keenly with wide eyes as you lurch upward, riding his face until you finally come down completely.

His room is still for a moment but Jisung is so absolutely enthralled with the moment and how he’s just made you unravel before him. Gluttonous, he doesn’t wait much longer before he’s dipping back into your folds. Lapping at you and especially your hole, he feels like a madman. The taste of you sends shivers down his spine, your surprised noises only egging him on.

“Oh my god, Ji! Wait, wait, oh,” the intrusion of Jisung’s middle finger is completely foreign but welcomed.

Where the hell was he learning this all from?

Jisung continues to work you open, never neglecting your folds and clit for a moment.

“Ji, if you don’t stop,” you shudder, trying to gather your bearings. “I’m gonna come.”

“Want it,” he moans against your pussy. “Do it again for me, pretty.”

It feels as if you’ve been thrown into the Twilight Zone. Never has Jisung said your nickname in such a tone, so deep and dripping with lust. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, taking your mind off his dual stimulation for just a moment.

With the addition of Jisung’s lengthy digit that now pops in and out of you, it doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit, you cry out for your boyfriend again— this time instinctively begging for some control. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, it’s like he’s dead set on keeping his face between your legs, it’s becoming too much at this point. If you two were gonna do this, you wanted him to get something out of it too.

“Fuck, Jisung, too much!”

Jisung snaps from his reverie, all of his ministrations drawing back with his head peeking from between your thighs in concern. You’re finally able to catch your breath, smiling down at him to quell his apparent anxiety. Shyly, he smiles back.

He clears his throat, “Are you okay?”

You laugh at this, still struggling to stabilize your breathing while your body pulsed with what could either be desire or exhaustion. “I am. Better than ever, actually. Are you?”

“Mhm. I uh— I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, Ji, I just don’t think I’d be able to take another orgasm just yet.”

“Oh, okay.” He nods.

You giggle at him, how insane was it that he completely left you dumbstruck on two separate occasions just seconds ago and was acting all reserved the next.

“C’mere,” you open up your arms to him. He rushes to you. Giving you what you want and joining your lips. He's completely unaware just how wet his face is until it’s on your’s and he finds it a bit embarrassing.

But you don’t falter at all, instead kissing him deeply while your hands unmistakably find the boner hitched in his sweats.

Jisung stutters, physically jolting out of the kiss. “Uh, do you wanna move onto that so soon?”

“Well, I don’t want to be the only one who gets off. That’s not fair to you, is it?”

“I’ll be happy as long as you’re satisfied…”

“Ji,” you wipe away your juices that have gathered on his chin.

“Hmm?”

“I’m only satisfied when I know you are too, now, strip.”

Jisung nearly lets a ‘yes, ma’am’ slip from his throat before he hurriedly slips off his clothes. You laugh at how cute he is, removing your own shirt.

“Now, boss, how do you wanna do this?”

“Uh— however you want—“

“Jisung.”

He sighs at the call of his name from your lips, gulping as you stare up to him. “How about… on your stomach?”

“Oh? You don’t want to see my pretty face, hmm?”

“No! I mean, of course I do! You don’t have to—“

“Ji, baby, I’m fucking with you. I’d love to.” with that you roll over, grabbing one of Jisung’s pillows before slipping it under you.

“Oh.” Jisung sighs, the sight of you obeying him and propping yourself up effectively sending more strain to his member.

“Well don’t stop now, come on,” you reach a hand back for Jisung to grab. He obliges, walking to the edge of the bed, and grabbing your hand. He recalls this position from the couple of ”study materials” Donghyuck had sent and he joins you on the bed, shuffling on his knees till his cock hovers your ass.

You shift under him, hiking your ass higher to encourage him to stick his length in. He takes the message and grips his cock, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before.

When he finally lines himself up and sinks inside of you, he hisses while you whimper. Jisung’s hands are practically godsend but nothing, and you mean nothing compares to his dick. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since your first time. And always found yourself a tad bit disappointed whenever he would turn you down following it.

“Fuck, Ji, you’re so big, baby,” you groan, trying to adjust as his heavy cock continues to stretch you open.

Jisung can only huff, holding onto his last ounce of control. He's about to come, he can feel it. His hips still, knowing if he moves anymore he’ll end up spoiling this again.

“Oh, please keep moving,” you whine, taking matters into your own hands and pushing your hips back to pick up where he has left off.

“Shit, ___, wait—“ Jisung braces his broad hands against your back, stilling you for a moment. Your head cranes back, concerned but still evidently in need.

“I— I’m about to come…” he speaks weakly, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Which he absolutely is.

You pout, confused with his display of shame.

“That’s fine, baby. Just don’t stop, please, I need you.” The sound of you begging while continuing to grind your ass on his cock sends Jisung absolutely reeling. His eyes squeeze shut, sighing heavily before allowing you to meet him halfway. Your own movements make you purr in delight, you continue to grind against him, and Jisung finds his hips moving too.

He snaps into you, chasing your cunt when you pull away. You moan in surprise, Jisung finally melting and leaning down to stabilize himself as his hips find a shallow pace.

He groans, hiding his flustered face in the junction of your shoulder.

“___…” Jisung pants.

“It’s okay, you can come, fuck, come for me, baby…”

It takes one sharp thrust before Jisung completely loses himself, releasing an almost pained groan into your neck. He continues to jaggedly move in and out of you while you feel him release himself in you, his load spurting along your walls and escaping onto the surrounding areas.

You helplessly moan at the feeling, a bit disappointed when your boyfriend’s eager hips cease to a stop.

“Hmm. Feel better?” You lilt, propping your chin on your shoulder to get the best glimpse of him.

Jisung shudders, breathing out a small laugh. “Yeah, I— sorry…”

“It’s okay, babe. Now, pull out.”

“Hmm? Oh, right!” He heeds to your directions, easing out of you but not without some slither of sadness. He had done it again. Sure, he made you cum but he barely lasted a few minutes inside of you like he had hoped.

Promptly, you shuffle onto your back, cracking your legs open. Shocked, Jisung’s gaze drops to your cunt, now messily decorated with a glistening mix of his semen, saliva, and your own cum.

“You didn’t think that was it, did you?”

Jisung blinks because he absolutely thought you two were finished for the night. You chuckle, hooking your legs around Jisung’s thighs.

“I’m not done with you just yet, Ji’…”

It’s hard for Jisung to shield his excitement, gladly positioning himself in front of you. He grips himself to align with you once again, allowing his other hand to plant by your head.

He could die right now and be absolutely satisfied, Jisung thinks as you suck him back in your walls. His face hovers your own, watching intently as your features scrunches in pleasure.

Quickly adjusting to the sensation of him stretching you out again, you take note of how statuesque he is,“Move, babe.” You gently remind.

“Right, sorry—“ Jisung takes a moment to laugh at himself, garnering an endeared smile from you.

Your hands extend up to hold his face. “No more apologizing, okay?” Jisung nods along with you in response, his heart swelling at your tender act of affection despite him being several inches inside of you.

“Okay, sor— ahem, okay…” you giggle at his immediate slip up, and Jisung arranges his hips in a way that instantly takes your mind off of it, starting to rock into you once more, now both having climaxed once (or twice, in your case)— sensitivity strikes you both but there’s no way that was gonna stop either of you.

“Feel so good,” you hum.

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, innocently, keeping his rhythm as sound as possible.

“Mhm. Don’t stop, okay?”

“I won’t.” Jisung solidifies, finding confidence in being able to see your face and how you visually react to his movements. His hips begin to reel back a greater distance, snapping into you with a fervor that leaves you crying for more.

The obscene sound of Jisung’s thighs repeatedly crashing into your own fill the room, paired with the whine of his name from your lips and the sploshing sound of the wetness between your legs.

Unfortunately, Donghyuck’s voice echoes in his mind, but for good reason. Removing himself from your hold a bit, Jisung leans down to start pecking your ear.

You hum in satisfaction, shuddering under him.

He knew you well, he could still recall the first time he accidentally grazed the area of your ear with his lips. You lurched away with embarrassment washing over you but he had found it to be one of the cutest things in the world. Not many things could pacify you like that, but a little love to your ear did.

You arch yourself into your boyfriend when his tongue darts out of his mouth to flick the shell of your ear, your new positioning encouraging the depth of Jisung’s length. It doesn’t help that Jisung has found his pacing, a mind-numbing repetition of the head of his cock grazing the precise spot that leaves your vision spotty with stars.

“Shit, M’gonna come,” you aimlessly exclaim, the strength you’d usually have to filter your thoughts from useless babble existing no longer.

Jisung hums, continuing to lap at your ear, taking Donghyuck’s nonchalant advice and running with it. You gasp in elation when you feel Jisung suckle at your ear, nipping it before it leaves his mouth.

“Fuck, who taught you this?” Restless, you bring his face back to meet yours, you find your boyfriend’s pupils completely blown out and eyes lidded heavily. You trace his furrowed eyebrows to his parted puffy lips.

Jisung leans down, your inquiry not reaching him whatsoever. Your lips meet and you whimper into the kiss, it’s wet and noisy. Your muscles searching for the best taste of each other.

Your third orgasm was barrelling towards you quickly, and you find yourself looking for anything to give you stability. Mindlessly, your hand traces the distance from Jisung’s face to one of his hands that remains planted on the bed beside you.

Without a second thought does he intertwine your fingers, pressing your joined palms into the mattress as he begins to lose momentum.

“Please keep going,” you wail. ”I’m gonna come.”

Jisung nods, his lips tucked between his teeth as he tries to keep himself together for you. He watched you contort and writhe in pleasure, now becoming familiar with your body’s pattern before a climax.

Your free hand travels to Jisung’s broad back, leaving traces of yourself with savagely placed scratches. He winces, the sting of your fingernails against his back throwing him off but simultaneously driving him to keep going. His own features scrunching to alert you that he himself was close to snapping.

“Ah, please, please—!” You whine, bracing yourself, deliberately pulling Jisung flush to you the best you could to milk to most friction out of him as possible. Your shallow yank is enough to have the large man toppling over and on top of you.

The desired stimulation of your clit grazing against Jisung is enough to coax your next orgasm out of you. You cum, angling your hips to take as much as Jisung could still offer. It doesn’t take long for him to be right there with you, whining while his hips buck aimlessly into you. Your sounds are equal in desperation, both racing to chase your highs.

“Oh.” Your hands aid Jisung’s hips toward you as he continues to release his seed inside of you until he finally fully collapses onto your body.

Serenity returns to Jisung’s room, the pair of you well past the point of exhaustion to move an inch. Jisung, seemingly coming to, is the first to move (much to your dismay). He grunts, peeling himself from your sticky with sweat body and peering down at you for a moment.

It lingers, his study of you. And typically, he was the one who would shy away from such intense eye contact but you find your eyes flitting away first. You’ve never had someone be so engrossed with you, with your satisfaction, so worried with pleasing you.

Jisung breathes out a laugh, “What?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, equally as giddy.

“You’re shy?”

“No,” you suck your teeth, fighting the smile that threatens to give you away, “just wanna know why you’re staring…”

“Mm. Is staring at my pretty girlfriend so wrong?”

“…Hmm,” you pause as if you’re thinking for a moment. “No. I guess not.” You shrug.

“Good.” Jisung bends down to peck your lips before fully removing himself from on top of you. He sighs when his back flops on the bed beside you.

“Okay but seriously, where the hell did all of that come from?”

Jisung chuckles at the urgency in your voice, shifting to lay on his side. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…”

“Pfft. After tonight I think I’m more open to any possibilities…”

“Hmm… okay, it was Donghyuck.” Jisung admits bashfully.

Immediately does your mouth gape open in absolute disbelief. “No fucking way.”

“See!”

“Donghyuck—? He taught you all of that?!”

“Well, I studied and kind of just… went with the flow I guess?” Jisung shrugs as if it’s nothing.

“Wow. For a second there I was scared he gave you one-on-one lessons…”

“Woah,” Jisung blinks, shocked that you precisely assumed what he had purposefully left out of the exchange. “Believe it or not, he tried.”

“I believe it,” You giggle, the ridiculous image flashing in your mind and leaving just as quick as it came.

“I guess I have to give him his flowers then.” you sigh, a hand extending to brush away Jisung’s fallen fringe so you can fully see his face. He fights a smile back, helping you by sweeping his hair back.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… I don’t think I have to tell you how great you were.” You snort, gesturing to your tired body. Jisung gladly follows your gaze, admiring your bareness once more.

Jisung hums, throwing an arm around your damp abdomen to tug you closer into him. You wordlessly oblige, sighing contently when your skin meets his again.

“Well, I think you were the star.” Jisung comments softly, his face now in your neck.

You coo silently, instinctively placing a hand on his jaw. “As much as I’d like to take credit, I can’t,” Jisung’s gaze shifts to your face when you tilt his head up.

“Not when you helped me through three orgasms.”

You peck your boyfriend’s lips as a form of punctuation. Though, you’re not able to drift far since Jisung’s mouth chases your own, deepening your once innocent kiss. You’re tired and your lips are beyond bruised but you just can’t help yourself. The way he hums from underneath you only intensifies your need for him.

While your mouth moves against his with conviction, tonguing at his lips to allow you more freedom, he finds his hands gravitating to your hips to give him some stability. Jisung sighs discontentedly when your lips disconnect, his eyes remaining shut for a beat before fluttering back open.

“Well, how do you feel about a fourth?” Jisung proposes carefully, though his expression shows that he’s clearly desperate for your agreement and for your lips to return to his own.

Quickly, your eyes widen in astonishment. “Really? Are you sure—?” Your worries are cut short by Jisung’s mouth. It’s short but effective in getting his point across.

He pulls away, an amused smirk on his face. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you giggle, finding yourself incredibly aroused by Jisung’s newfound confidence. You would certainly have to thank Donghyuck in some way for this abrupt change in your boyfriend’s behavior, unfortunately.

“Well let's not waste time then…”

© jigueminunbich 2024

[uzurakis]

hi kiara! can you please make a continuation of “their act of intimacy” but with gojo, toji, and sukuna? i melted the first time i read them with the other characters 😭 hope you have a good day ahead of you ❤️

THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY?

featuring: gojo satoru. ryomen sukuna. toji fushiguro.

n. aaa thanku for liking the previous one! this is for you nonnie <3 didn’t really proofread cause i’m running late on sleep lol. PART ONE HERE :0

GOJO SATORU. gojo finds it calming when you both take a shower together. however, his notion of "calming" may differ from the ordinary. instead of drowsing in warm water and doing all those private things such as soaping his back and shampooing his hair, you and him sometimes have other spontaneous ideas in mind.

as the warm water cascaded down, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness that's as comforting as it is exhilarating. satoru, with his irrepressible charm and mischievous grin, stood beside you, his presence filled the space with a playful energy.

"ah, feels like heaven," he sighed, whilst eyes gleaming with shenanigans. you chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. “don’t start a water fight again, satoru. let us enjoy a nice and relaxing—“

but before you could react, a splash of water hit you square in the face, causing you to sputter and laugh. “gotcha!" the man exclaimed, his laughter echoed through the tiled walls.

"it’s sooo on now!" you declared, retaliating with a splash of your own.

and just like that, the bathroom transformed into a battleground, with water flying in every direction as you both engaged in your playful antics. amidst the laughter and the splashing, there's an undeniable sense of joy that filled the room.

"careful, satoru," you warned, dodging his playful advances, "you're going to get soap in your eyes."

but he just grinned. "not before you get ‘em first, babe.”

and so, you guys continued your playful banter. soaked to the bone and grinning from ear to ear, gojo satoru defines his own calming moments with you.

RYOMEN SUKUNA. your boyfriend is a big guy, or so he believes before you swoop in and baby him. does he resist? yes. but will he eventually agree? absolutely.

the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air as you stood in the kitchen. across the room, your boyfriend, sukuna, leaned against the counter, watching you with a bemused expression. you took a small portion with a spoon in hand, "say 'a' for me, sukuna.”

"hell nah.” his face was holding back the disgust. “you know, i can feed myself, right?"

"come on, baby, just one bite," you urged, eyes pleading. he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in to you. “no—tsk, fine.”

“just this once.”

as he reluctantly opened his mouth, you couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the sight of him being spoon-fed like a child. your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly swallowed the pasta, avoiding your gaze.

"see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you teased, unable to contain your amusement.

he grumbled something unintelligible in response, but as you proceeded to feed him, he took every piece and never turned it down until the last bite.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. toji never declines your offer to groom him. he rarely takes attention to his appearance, whereas you insist on cleaning up him up and do it with your own hands. at first, he doesn't think of it as intimate thing because isn’t it just about cutting and shaving? but as time goes on, he understands how much you value him and treasures the time you spent solely on him.

the soft glow of evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue over the cozy living room. toji sat on the couch, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes. you watched him from afar with a fond smile tugging at your lips.

“toji,” you called out. “your hair has gotten longer than the last time i remember.” he chuckled softly, already accustomed to this routine. "is it that time again?"

with scissors and a comb in hand, you approached him with a smile. “c’mere, sit down, baby.”

letting a shrug plus a grin, the man complied, settling onto the stool you'd placed in the middle of the room. as you draped a towel around his shoulders, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

"you know, i understand why you enjoy doing this so much.” he admitted, leaning back as you began to comb through his hair.

"you know why?” you replied, your voice soft as you worked. "it's about taking care of each other, babe. showing love in the little things."

he fell silent at your words, mulling them over as you continued to trim away stray strands. gradually, the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

NINE YEARS LATE

EDDIE MUNSON x F!READER

A yearly Halloween tradition, zombie films and best friends who touch too much for it to not mean anything. 4K of fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

When you met Eddie Munson at eleven years old, he pointed at your exorcist t-shirt and asked what your favourite horror movie was.

To anyone else it might have been strange, the way the boy's eyes were so bright, his expression caught between nervous and excited like nothing else at that time was more important than the answer you were about to give.

But you gave it with a shy grin and without hesitation, watching a little stunned as the boy brightened and his lips stretched wide into a beaming smile that, even then, left your heart warm and you completely powerless to resist the hand that circled your wrist and yanked you down onto the grass beside him.

He took a cookie from his lunchbox and pressed it into your hand, skin smudged with chocolate and pride in his voice when he told you how he had sneakily watched Night of the Living Dead when his uncle wasn't home and that was now his favourite.

You wrinkled your nose a little as you ate, unable to help the reaction because you didn't understand the zombie appeal, cheeks flushing when Eddie caught it too and threw both hands to his chest, his back hitting the ground with a thud as he flung himself down, like you'd personally betrayed everything he held dear.

"Don't tell me you don't like zombies!" He'd gasped in horror, struggling not to grin when he lifted himself up on his elbows and noticed, far too pleased, that despite the way you had hid your face in your hands, there was a telltale smile in your voice at his theatrics.

"I don't not like them exactly." You countered, eyes appearing above your fingers to watch the way the boy snorted and quirked a disbelieving brow in your direction before you allowed your hands to fall away, huffing. "I mean it! It's not that I hate them or anything, they just give me creeps."

He nodded at your shirt. "And demonic possession doesn't?"

"No?"

'Weirdo." He mumbled, voice soft, and then almost immediately winced, his eyes darting worriedly to yours because what if you didn't catch the way his tone turned fond as he said it? He didn't want you to think he was being mean like so many other kids were in Hawkins when someone wasn't like them.

But then you laughed, the sound clear and sweet, and there was relief in Eddie's chest mixed with a little awe, something innocently adoring because even though he would never admit it, he was pretty sure that was his new favourite sound in the whole world.

'Says the boy who thinks a zombie movie is the best horror." You teased, tongue poking out at him when he shook his head and aimed a playful little kick to your leg, scuffed trainers nudging at your thigh.

There was a moment of easy silence that followed, a few beats where the two of you shared soft, toothy grins before the boy ducked his head and you tipped yours back to gaze at the cloudy autumn sky, fingers twisting in the grass whilst joy swirled in your chests at this new found friendship.

It was impossible to miss the exact second he had the idea, the way he scrambled to sit upright, all long arms and gangly legs because even back then Eddie had been tall for his age. The grin that stretched his cheeks was wild, excitement crackling from him as he scooted closer until he was sat directly in front of you, knees brushing against yours.

"There's only one way to settle this." He blurted suddenly, pleased when your startled gaze turned instantly curious, body leaning forward to signal he had your full attention. "We have a movie marathon. You can come to mine and we can watch both of our favourites and maybe a few more and then we rank them."

You nodded slow, thoughtful , the sharp trill of the bell signalling the end of recess making you jump and Eddie groan. "Okay. That sounds fun. But what if we can't agree on what ranks first?"

Eddie rose ungracefully to his feet and you had to shield your eyes from the low burning sun when you looked up at him, light dousing him in gold that made his eyes look like pools of warm caramel when he grinned down at you and offered you his hand.

"Then we keep having marathons until we do."

**

Nine years later and you Eddie still hadn't agreed.

You were beginning to think you never would. Or maybe even if by some miracle you did, you still wouldn't tell the boy that had become your best friend the moment he'd asked you that question in the playground.

Because it had become your tradition now. These marathons that you had every October 1st without fail because that was the same date that you showed up at Eddie's door for the very first time, a box of cookies in your hand that your mom had sent you over with and a beaming smile that had matched his when he'd flung the door wide open and pulled you inside.

You weren't sure when it became your favourite day of the year or when Eddie became your favourite person but it did and so did he. Never happier than when you were surrounded by warm blankets with a hot chocolate cradled in your hands.

There was always plates piled with freshly baked goods on your laps, movies playing that you sometimes wouldn't remember the names of after and your face pressed to the boy's collarbone when things occasionally got too scary. His arm looped around your shoulder so he could murmur, soft and sweet, against your hair. "It's okay, it's nearly over."

You also weren't too sure when your feelings for your best friend began to change, only that they most definitely had.

He was still the same Eddie, your Eddie. He was big, warm eyes and startlingly pretty grins, an energy that made you think of bottled lightning, the kind you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, beautiful and utterly unruly.

He was all-encompassing hugs, tangled limbs in a too small bed when one of you stayed the night because even if you were to lay at the other end, the boy would somehow still find his way to you in his sleep, strong arms pulling you tight to his chest and a happy sigh on his lips.

But somewhere through the years, through the horrors that started on the screen where they should have stayed but then seemed to leech into your real lives, the familiar touches came more frequently and hands lingered long enough that it caused pulses to spike. Hugs got a little longer too, a little tighter.

There was a reluctance to let go when mornings came around, no longer shy or embarrassed when streams of pinkish gold filtered through the window and stirred you awake only to find the two of you were once again moulded around each other, fingers linked between your bodies.

Instead it felt right, like that was how you belonged. A Feeling that only grew with each year that passed.

Each October 1st that you refused any other plans because this was yours and Eddie's day. Every time you turned up to the other's homes, sitting a little too close on the couch than was considered friendly, eyes drifting to watch each other instead of whichever person was fighting for their lives on the tv when you thought you wouldn't get caught.

It grew, blooming wild and stubborn in your chest, snaking around each rib, until you were forced to admit to yourself that you were in love with him.

And that scared you more than any horror movie ever could.

**

"Sweetheart, you're supposed to be watching this, not hiding through the whole thing."

The admonishment in Eddie's voice was weak - too soft to be truly serious and even if you couldn't tell by the boy's tone, the way he grinned at you when you finally lowered your mug, with what he thought was the most adorable pout on your face, immediately gave him away.

It made you poke your toes into his jean clad thigh in retaliation, a choking gasp of faux betrayal bubbling past your lips when he caught at your ankle and tickled your foot with quick fingers before you could yank it back under the safety of the blanket he'd thrown over you earlier.

You were a lot less mad than you would have been had it been anyone else and christ if Eddie didn't know it, his eyes bright even in the low flickering light of the room and the pillow of his lower lip caught between his teeth to choke down a laugh as he threateningly wriggled his fingers at you once again.

Glaring at the boy across from you, there was a half hearted grumble to your voice when you aimed a nod towards the person being ripped apart by the undead horde on the screen and told him. "You know this wouldn't be a problem if you didn't bring a zombie movie nearly every year."

The noise he made in response told you that wasn't going to happen. But as he leant forward, stretching over to the coffee table to grab a cookie that he then practically inhaled, you could feel his eyes on you. The way he was silently checking if you actually thought the movie was too much or if you were just playing up because you liked to mess with him.

"You want me to turn it off? We could put the next movie on?" He asked in the way he always did, a little teasing but still sweet, touched with hope because you both knew what he would ask next when you shook your head, determined like you always were to sit through the movie just because Eddie loved it.

And you tried to not let it show on your face the way your heart fluttered and swooped in the cage your ribs when he opened his arms the moment you gave your answer, looking far more enticing than you thought a best friend ever should.

All wrapped in a large sweater with sleeves that drooped over his ringed fingers, cosy blankets tossed over his lap and curls still messy from the weather outside.

It really was unfair just how fucking pretty Eddie was.

"Wanna come here?" He murmured in a way that made your cheeks warm, your pulse jumping from fear that he'd caught the way you were staring and his lips tugging up into a soft grin when he added. "Promise I'll keep you safe from zombies."

You narrowed your eyes like it was an offer that you needed to consider - something that took a ridiculous effort considering how badly you suddenly ached to fall into the boy.

In return he rolled his own at the suspicious gaze that you flicked over him - from his fondly exasperated expression to the hands that made impatient little grabbing motions whilst you fought back a smile and warned. "Only if you don't tickle me again."

There was a soft snort when he laughed, grin turning impish as he took matters into his own hands and reached over to pluck your mug from your fingers, placing it on the table before catching you in a gentle grip. "I swear on Dustin's mother I won't tickle you again. Now c'mere."

And so you went - with a shake of your head to hide your smile, you let yourself be pulled into him.

Desperately trying to ignore the way your skin buzzed beneath his touch as he lifted the blanket and folded you tight into his side, waiting for you to throw your arm around his waist and swing your legs over his lap until there was no part of you left that wasn't pressed up against him.

He looked like he was trying and failing to hide how pleased he was as he drew the blanket over the two of you and you all but melted in his arms. Corners of his lips quirking and a soft dusting of pink creeping over his cheeks when his hand automatically began stroking over your hair and you let slip a quiet little sound that was half sigh, half moan - his body still burning despite the innocence of it.

For a little while after that an easy silence fell over you both, a sense of contentment that couldn't be broken by the sounds of gore that came from the screen.

Eddie smelt like Autumn with every slow inhale you took, like cold, night air and smoke, spice from the cologne you bought him two birthdays ago and the cinnamon off the pastries you'd baked especially for that night that he'd almost completely devoured within half an hour of sitting down.

He was warm in a way that felt like safety when he wrapped you up in him like this and it was all too easy to forget how much the movie had previously made your stomach turn slightly. Now barely even batting an eye when somebody screamed because you were too happy being lulled by the rise and fall of Eddie's chest beneath your cheek and the weight of his head rested atop of your own.

You watched the screen with an almost foggy type of interest. A little dazed by the hand that had previously been playing with your hair now slipping down, fingers dancing over the nape of your neck and down your spine to where it eventually stopped. Palm moulded flat to the dip in your back - the heat of it searing through your shirt.

His other hand was curved around your knee - thumb stroking soft circles on the inside that made a tremor sweep over your skin.

It took you far too long to realise when he eventually spoke, oblivious to his smile, the question he pressed to your hair at your shiver, until your trance was broken by the rumble of a soft laugh when a beat too long passed without any response.

Gentle fingers that had previously been resting on your knee were now hooking beneath your chin, tilting your gaze to meet his as he dipped his head to look at you in a way that made your mouth run dry.

"Still with me there sweetheart?" He asked. Voice low, hushed, a little rougher and less teasing than you think he had intended it to be.

And suddenly the room felt a little warmer than before, an electricity present that crackled in the limited space between your bodies.

You swallowed hard, stomach twisting, the sounds of horror in the background fading to a mere hum as you nodded. Your breath hitched when your nose brushed his but you made no move to pull back and if the boy heard it, he didn't say anything. "M'here." You whispered. "What- what did you say?"

In the near-dark you watched him bite back a strained smile, curls bouncing as he shook his head ever so slightly, not at you, but at the way he suddenly felt tongue tied. Frozen with his fingers still cupping your chin and his mind alarmingly blank because you were just so close and fuck, what was it that he'd said again?

"I uh," He stumbled, words a little awkward as he attempted to subtly clear his throat." I was just wondering how you can't watch a zombie movie without hiding behind me, which to be clear, I am not complaining about , but when we got attacked by demon bats you were totally fucking fearless."

You felt flushed at how awestruck he sounded, gaze lowering and your hand coming to clasp his wrist, touch gentle on the scars that only recently healed there. "I was hardly fearless Eds." You muttered.

But the boy was already tutting, an argument ready on his tongue before you could finish your dismissal.

"Babe, I watched you decapitate one of those things with an oar like it was nothing." He grinned, feeling a little more daring as he grazed his thumb just below your lip, eyes dark on you as your lashes fluttered and you swayed further into the touch. "It was the most metal thing I've ever seen, maybe the hottest too."

He added the last part like a whisper and maybe it was the way you felt too fuzzy, not quite connected to your brain - a little too lovesick and touch-drunk from the way Eddie was surrounding you. The words that set your blood alight.

Or maybe it was just that the credits were rolling on a movie the two of you had barely watched because you'd been too focused on each other, the room falling into the type of darkness that made you a little less afraid of giving away your feelings for the boy.

But you found yourself telling him, unflinchingly honest and without a second thought. "I was only like that because they tried to hurt you, I was beyond terrified until then."

"Is that so?" Eddie mused. He was beaming like you'd just said the best thing he'd ever heard, like having proof of you being murderous at the idea of him being hurt was enough to light the boy up from the inside and make his features glow with a new softness.

You only hummed in response, heart suddenly in your throat, pulse fluttering wildly and you briefly wondered if Eddie could feel it when his hand slipped along your jaw. Thumb teasing along the edge and fingers warm on your neck.

"So if we ever got attacked by an undead horde instead of bats and cat-eating lizards?"

You laughed, shrugging. "Then I guess I'm beheading some zombies."

It was meant to be a light comment but it made the air around you grow heavy, like you couldn't move away even if your life depended on it, when he pressed his forehead to yours with a little theatrical groan.

The way his eyes bore into yours under the dark fringe of his lashes making you breath catch, lungs tight when he teased. "Careful babe, with that kind of talk I might think you're trying to make me fall in love with you."

You don't know what possessed you, the words spilt passed your lips before you could catch them.

"What if I was?"

You felt more than heard the sharp inhale of his breath, the way he froze beneath you, slack-jawed, eyes wide and searching like he was nervous of the possibility you'd suddenly laugh and tell him you were only joking.

But then he seemed to find something in the shyness of your own gaze that made his turn bold, his hand on your back pressing you that little bit firmer against him as he shifted to turn into you fully.

The smile tugging at his lips was one you'd never seen before, the type he only ever gave when he was sure you weren't looking because there was no doubt in his mind that every ounce of love he had for you was written all over his face.

And Eddie swallowed hard before he spoke, his voice shot, affection flooding through the cracks, whilst he bumped his nose to yours. "Then I'd say you're about nine years too late."

Oh.

Wait-

You made a choked sound of surprise as you jerked back to look at him, stunned, fingers curling tight into his jumper and the warm skin of his wrist so you could steady yourself.

"Nine years?" You repeated, feeling dumbstruck whilst Eddie laughed.

But then he was cupping your cheeks with both hands, drawing you back to him with a grin that was all dimples and soft honey eyes and it felt like your heart would burst in your chest when the moment he was confident he had your full attention, he told you. "Sweetheart, I was a goner from the moment you showed up on my doorstep."

"Oh."

It felt like you'd been utterly floored.

It hit you that through all the years that you'd been in love with your best friend you had never truly considered a reality where he felt the same, and now you had no clue how to react.

However you were suddenly, painfully aware of all the times where you'd ached to touch him in a way that you'd then had to remind yourself wasn't allowed, all the time you could have spent learning what his lips felt like on yours, how he tasted. How long you could have called him yours if you both hadn't been so scared.

It felt like a crime to let it go on any longer.

"Eddie?" You whispered, nerves like a champagne fizz in your belly that then spread all the way to your fingers and toes as your eyes fluttered closed at his breath on your lips.

You could smell cinnamon and smoke, a hint of mint underneath, and god, you'd never craved something so bad as you did him.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

He sounded no better than you - voice hoarse - a little wrecked. Thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw like he was desperate to keep you anchored to him as he waited with baited breath for you to ask.

"Can I kiss you?"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish.

Soft and sweet at first despite the energy you could practically feel thrumming beneath his skin. You swallowed the groan that almost immediately slipped from his throat, both hands coming up to clutch at his wrists as he tugged you closer, tilting your jaw so he could deepen the kiss - lips sliding over yours again and again as you clung to him.

When you parted, it was only for a handful of seconds. A beat to catch your breath, to stare at each other like you couldn't believe this was finally happening. But then you caught sight of Eddie, eyes burning dark and hooded, lips swollen with your kisses, and it already felt like far too long.

Clearly Eddie felt the same.

The kiss became demanding when you crashed back together, greedy lips and greedy hands, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before hungrily licking into your mouth. And then you were being pulled onto his lap, soft thighs falling open for him to fit beneath you and the prettiest moan you'd ever heard coming from the boy as your hips settled flush over his.

You gasped against him, a desperate noise that sent heat rushing to your cheeks, when his hand slipped under your shirt to grip your waist. Dizzy at the contrast of cold rings and warm fingers that were gently neading your skin, making you melt further into him than you thought possible.

It made him grip you that little bit harder, squeeze a little tighter to see if you'd make the same sweet sound for him again and Eddie felt like he'd go wild when you did. Like he could lose himself right there and then, with your fingers buried in his curls and your mouth hot on his, because you were all he could think about, see, hear and smell.

He was drowning in you and if you asked anything of him in this moment you can be damn sure that he'd do it in a fucking heartbeat if it meant you'd continue looking at him the way you were when your lips finally parted and you swayed back.

You were all soft smiles and slightly glassy eyed - a bit drunk on the way your best friend had kissed you like he would die if he didn't - and he couldn't resist stealing another, a second and then a third. Quick and a little clumsy because Eddie was smiling too.

There was so much warmth in your chest it felt like you could burst with it. All the emotions and feelings for the boy that you'd buried for so long now free to bloom wild and unhindered in the spaces between your ribs.

You couldn't help the bubble of laughter that poured past your lips, grinning so hard it hurt as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs stroking circles over your sides whilst he tried to pull you even closer.

'Strange." You mumbled, soft and a little drawn out like you were just waiting for him to ask.

He didn't let you wait long, nose brushing yours, heart-achingly indulgent.

"What is?"

"I think I've changed my mind about zombie movies, maybe they're not so bad after all."

[alarainai]

'the courage of stars'

fluff, wc: 700+. for: @messymoony ♡

Regulus is staring intently in the bathroom mirror.

James isn’t judging him, of course. Regulus is beautiful, and he can understand the appeal completely. After all, James thinks he spends at least three-quarters of his life watching Regulus do mundane things and being completely enamoured by it.

But Regulus isn’t staring at himself with fondness. If anything, he looks a bit angry. Like he’s having a telepathic battle with his own reflection. And, while it is rather endearing, James is starting to get slightly worried.

It only takes clearing his throat for Regulus to turn and look at him.

“I have a confession,” Regulus says.

That’s ominous. James leans his weight against the bathroom door and raises a single eyebrow. He can’t imagine it’s anything truly terrible, but there does seem to be some underlining panic to Regulus’ words.

“I’ve been lying to you,” his beloved boyfriend of two months continues, “And it’s starting to become uncomfortable, so I’ve decided I’m not doing it anymore.”

James snorts, “I’m happy to know your tolerance for lying to me only lasts a couple of months, baby. And whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not the end of the world.”

Regulus looks disbelieving and scowls at James as though expecting some sort of argument. When he gets none, his shoulders slump in defeat and he turns, crouching and rummaging through his bathroom cupboard for something. James isn’t particularly sure what he keeps in there – he’s only slept over at Regulus’ place three times, and he’s been rather cagey about his belongings.

Eventually, Regulus stands up again with a small, oddly shaped container.

“Remember, I’m still me, okay?”

Before James can truly take in the dramatics of Regulus’ words, his boyfriend is reaching up to his eye with his index finger. For a moment, James is terrified that Regulus will poke his eye out and reaches forward with a reluctant hand.

Until he sees something.

A lens.

James’ gaze goes towards the mirror to take in Regulus’ reflection, and all of his thoughts screech to a halt as a deep brown eye blinks back at him. A very stark contrast from his other eye, still a steely grey that is a known characteristic of the Black family.

Regulus gives James a couple of seconds to adapt before he takes out the other contact lens, popping them both in that unusual container. Then he turns, looking up at James like he’s waiting to be shouted at.

And James is left to stare at this new discovery with a racing heart.

His eyes are warm, endless, with flecks of dark amber around the iris that somehow catch in the too-bright bathroom lamp.

“Now, I know this is a bit of a change,” Regulus starts, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper. Of James’  jumper. “But I just couldn’t wear contacts to sleep anymore. It dries out my eyes, and it’s ridiculously uncomfortable. So, you’re just gonna have to deal with this when we stay at each other’s places. I’ll wear them when-”

“How the fuck did you get hotter?”

Regulus falters at the interruption, staring up at James with wide eyes. Wide, fucking gorgeous, eyes.

“Seriously,” James continues, taking Regulus’ face in his hands and tilting it upwards, “It’s unfair. You can’t keep doing this to me. My brain is going to melt. Regulus, why the fuck do you wear contacts?”

“My… my family has grey and blue eyes.”

“I don’t care what your family have,” James tells him, “Regulus. They’re beautiful.”

“Oh.”

It’s ridiculous – James can tell that Regulus was honestly expecting a worse reaction. As though James has ever found Regulus anything less than perfect. With a quiet laugh, James leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling when he hears the love of his love let out a content hum.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, “Can’t believe you risked damaging your eyes because you cared about my opinion.”

Regulus pouts briefly and pulls him back down for another kiss before James can start mocking him. James mourns the fact that he can’t see Regulus’ eyes anymore, but he doesn’t mind too much.

He’ll have the rest of his life to compliment them anyway.

[moonstruckme]

for thawing out, i see how you've already characterized the reader as kind of the calm, even keeled one of the group and i would LOVE to just see her stand up for herself and absolutely blow up after getting pushed too far by the boys (a little mean of me to want her to go through that but-) but yes i love me a good out of character moment that kind of make the characters be like "oh shit maybe we shouldn't be acting this way-" love you babe 🫶

Hi lovely, idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but thanks sm for requesting! Love you <3

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, implied past abuse, hurt no comfort (for some)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.9k words

When Remus arrives at your apartment the next morning, Sirius is already standing at the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest as he glowers in Remus’ direction, but it’s difficult to find him very intimidating when his nose is pink from the cold. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Sirius replies drily. “What are you doing here?” 

Remus shrugs. Fine. If Sirius wants to be a prick (and what else is new), he can do that too. “I didn’t think you’d come. Have you knocked already?” 

“Of course I knocked,” he all but sneers. “Why would you assume I wasn’t going to be here? I said I would be.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you’d be able to drag yourself out of bed.” 

Sirius looks ready to make a retort, but your door opens. You look surprised to see both boys on your doorstep, your smile tentative. Remus still doesn’t understand how you can do that at such an early hour. 

“Hi,” you say. Then you turn to Sirius, grin widening as you pinch the frozen tip of his nose fondly. “You made it.” 

“Obviously I made it!” The other boy’s voice takes on a wounded tone, and Remus has to tuck a smile into his scarf. Sirius must suspect, because his gaze narrows.

“How did you get this address?” he asks Remus. 

Remus feels his brow crinkle. It’s not as if he’s the one you’re in danger of. 

“He texted me last night, and I gave it to him,” you answer for him. “I sort of assumed you’d oversleep.” 

Sirius makes an indignant scoffing noise, but he appears to have nothing more to say. He seems in especially brutish form today. You’re as unphased by his moods as usual, hooking your arm through his. 

“I’m sorry to get you both up so early, but I suppose two guard dogs are even better than one.” You squeeze Sirius’ bicep affectionately, and the look you send Remus is pure sweetness. “It’s really nice of you both to come.” 

Something warm and fond blooms in Remus’ chest. Sirius mutters some disgruntled sort of assent. 

You grin. “And now, we can all buy our own drinks!” 

“Oh, fuck this then,” Sirius’ irritating pugnacious tone is back, though now it’s at least partly for show. “I didn’t realize that was part of the deal. I want out.” 

You only make an amused pffting sound, pulling him playfully against your side. 

Remus falls back to let the two of you walk alongside each other on the sidewalk. It’s odd and occasionally entertaining to watch you, so entirely familiar and at ease with each other. It’s the sort of relationship Remus hasn’t had in years, and he’s beginning to question whether he ever had a bond quite as close as yours. It’s obvious even from the outside that the pair of you know each other inside and out, and that you love each other just as deeply. But Sirius’ love is another thing entirely; the way he looks at you is almost too painful to witness. 

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius hasn’t pursued you. He certainly prefers it this way; it makes his job considerably easier with things platonic and professional between the pair of you, but it just doesn’t add up. Sirius strikes him as the sort of cocksure prat who goes for what he wants, every time. He’s certainly arrogant enough to be sure he’ll get it, and admittedly, with his looks and devil-may-care attitude, there aren’t many people Remus can see turning him down. (They definitely should, but they likely wouldn’t.) Perhaps, after knowing him so long and working with him so closely, you’re simply too smart to get entangled with the likes of Sirius Black. 

You do eventually look back to call Remus up to join the two of you. Sirius looks irked at this, and Remus wishes he could say he was more mature, but he goes in large part because of it. You loop your other arm through his and make sure to include him in your conversation the rest of the way to the rink. 

The morning’s practice goes by with much of the same forced camaraderie. You’re friendly and receptive, Sirius is loud and irksome, but overall Remus is pleased with how things are going. You’re improving every day, to a degree Remus can’t help but admire. He can easily see you perfecting this routine by the Olympics in less than a month, which certainly defies his expectations from when he first started coaching you. Sirius is the same as always; he’s not as consistent or as controlled as Remus would like, but he doesn’t seem inclined to change and his form is (though Remus wouldn’t admit it aloud even at knifepoint) truly beautiful to watch. 

By the end, he has only one thing to say. 

“I think we need to up the ante.” 

You look up from where you’re putting on your skate guards, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“You’re going to perfect this routine.” Remus can say that with confidence now. A nice little bonus is the way your face lights with bashful pride when he does. “You’ll get plenty of execution points from that, but if you want to really compete it wouldn’t hurt to add a higher difficulty move.” 

Sirius looks up, his gaze watchful. 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

“A death spiral,” says Remus. “We could fit it in during the lower-level sequence towards the end. You should be ending with more of a crescendo anyway.” 

You’re nodding. “An outside death spiral?” 

“And backwards, if you’re up for it.” 

“No way.” Sirius’ skates are already in his bag. You look over at him, bemused, but he’s looking at Remus. “You can’t fuck with the program this late. It’s only a couple of weeks before we leave.” 

Reluctantly, Remus turns to face him. His eyes are like a brewing storm. “And would you like to medal whilst you’re there?” 

“We don’t need this to medal.” 

“You don’t know what the competition will be like. You need to bring everything you can to the routine.” 

Sirius kisses his teeth. He stands, looking at Remus with barely repressed malice. “A backwards outside death spiral isn’t something you can just toss in at the last minute. We’re only just starting to manage what we have in the routine already! It’s too risky.” 

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius isn’t subtle; it’s clear what this is really about. “She’s going to be fine,” he says firmly, refusing to back down when the other boy's eyes narrow. “She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to do this, and your feelings cannot be the deciding factor here. The death spiral is a staple of pair routines. You have to take some risks if you want to compete at this level.” 

“Oh, do you?” Sirius’ laugh is cold and dead. “Is that what you did? If it’s so fucking easy, why don’t we get out there so you can show us how it’s done?” He juts his chin towards the ice, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You can let us see how great it works out to take risks.” 

Remus doesn’t even feel the ache in his hip as he takes two quick steps towards Sirius, towering over the other boy with his blood pounding in his ears. Sirius is forced to look up, but he turns his chin up defiantly. His face hardens as he takes in a short, quick breath. 

You cram yourself between them. 

It’s like snapping back into his body. Remus stumbles back, his hip screaming at the hurried motion. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron, collapsing backwards onto the bench while you put yourself in front of Sirius like a human shield. Your expression is wrathful. 

“Do not do that,” you growl. You reach behind you, taking Sirius’ forearm in your grasp as though to keep him from moving. “God, why do you both have to be such dickheads to each other? We’re done here.” 

You march straight past Remus, dragging Sirius along on your other side like a dog on a leash. He looks about as shell-shocked as Remus feels. Your outburst knocked him flat on his ass, literally. It’s not that Remus didn’t think you were capable of yelling; he suspected you had fangs, but the venom came as a surprise. 

He winces when the door bangs shut behind you. They probably deserve that. He doesn’t envy Sirius, who’s likely to get a lengthy lecture from you on the walk home, but Remus does realize this could mean him losing his job. Trading petty remarks with Sirius had almost begun to feel like part of his role, but he’d never expected to make you so furious. He doesn’t know what it will mean for him that he has. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

During the entirety of Remus’ long, steamy shower, he cannot stop thinking of the look on Sirius’ face. The way his eyes had almost changed color, going from a murky gray to blue like the hottest part of a flame. He’d looked almost pleading, for half a second after Remus first brought up the death spiral, before his face hardened back into harsh stoniness. He keeps fixating on that look, that second where the dynamic between them seemed on the brink of shifting before it didn’t. But maybe it never could have. Maybe Remus imagined the whole thing; it was only half a second, anyway. 

Regardless, he feels stupid for stooping to Sirius’ level. He’s better than that, he hopes, but in the last few weeks he’s let the other boy bring out the worst in him. He decides that if you don’t fire him, he’s going to try harder to be above it. If Sirius wants to trade insults like a child, Remus can treat him like a child; with patience and a repertoire of aloof platitudes, but he won’t engage with him anymore. 

He’s put on a pair of pajama pants and is moving the waistband to hold a pack of frozen peas to his hip when there’s a knock on his door. He leans back to peer through the window, and there you are, blowing into your hands and shivering on his doorstep. 

Remus groans as he gets up. He was really hoping to have at least one night of relaxation before having to have this conversation. 

You must stop rubbing your hands together when you hear him opening the door. “Hi,” you say. 

“Hi,” Remus replies, amused despite himself. They’re having one of those odd nights where snow falls but doesn’t stick, except to you apparently. Little white flakes are tangled in your hair and dusted across your shoulders. Remus can see some between your eyelashes when you blink. You’re stiff as a board, but there’s no hiding the tiny waves of trembles that shake your frame. 

“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” Your voice is teetering on the brink of a chitter.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Remus really shouldn’t feel so warm towards you when you’re likely here to fire (or at the very least, berate) him, but you do look terribly cold. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside so fast he hardly has time to make room for you, and the sleeve of your coat brushes against his bare chest, making him shiver. Remus realizes then that he’s not wearing a shirt, but he decides not to care; it is his house (or his rental, at least), and you’re the one who showed up unannounced. He’s entitled to be as underdressed as he likes. 

This small bit of indignance, though founded entirely from a battle within himself, reminds Remus to be miffed with you. 

“If you’re going to ask me to apologize to Sirius,” he says, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on (he may be miffed, but he is still Welsh), “you can save it. I have no intention of getting into a row like that with him again, but I was not the one who was being unreasonable.” 

You rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah, I agree. You shouldn’t apologize to him.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows draw together. “Okay…good. Because I’m not planning on it,” he says, just to be sure you understand. “He was completely out of line.” 

You nod again. “He was.” 

Remus finds his eyes straying to the door while he mulls over whether he’s feeling impolite enough to ask the next logical question. Then what are you doing here?

You take in a breath, letting it whoosh out of you. “I came because I want to apologize.” 

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off his face. “You?” 

“Yeah.” You rock a bit on your feet, and Remus realizes you’re still wearing your coat. Either you don’t plan to stay long, or you’re too anxious to take it off without an invitation. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. It was really harsh—I mean, I was right, but I didn’t need to be cruel about it.” You glance to the side, a bit of bashfulness softening your voice. “I also shouldn’t have called you a dickhead.” 

A little chuckle escapes him. “We were being dickheads.” 

“You were,” you agree, “but I still shouldn’t have said it. I don’t want to be like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you still want to stay with us.” 

You look back at him, your expression intentionally firm but your eyes beseeching, and some part of Remus melts. He and Sirius get into fights all the time—loud ones, with shouting and name calling and absolutely no holds barred—but you snap at them once, and here you are. Having walked here by yourself in the cold because you feel bad about it. 

“Let me get your coat,” he offers.

You take your tea to the couch, where you curl up automatically on the side opposite Remus’, pulling your legs in so he can pass between you and the coffee table. Remus picks his peas back up as he sits carefully, stifling a groan. It’s a bit embarrassing to ice his hip in front of you, but the pain has become too much to ignore. 

You wince as you watch him settle them underneath his waistband. “Is that because of me?” 

He can’t very well tell you the truth when you sound so guilty. “No,” he says. “I have to do this a lot.” That part’s not a lie. 

You nod, still looking sorry. Remus is grateful when you move on quickly. 

“Just so you know,” you say, “Sirius probably won’t apologize to you either.” 

Remus almost snorts. “Yeah, I wasn’t anticipating he would.” 

You smile ruefully. “I know he probably feels bad about saying what he did—he knows he had no right—but he just gets so caught up in anger sometimes. If it helps at all, today was just an especially hard day for him. He’s always…extra on edge around this time of year. You learn not to take the things he says personally.” 

Remus studies you through narrowed eyes. He blows steam off his tea. “Does he do that to you often?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t typically goad him,” you say with no small amount of humor. Or pointedness. 

He lifts a brow. He’s already told you he won’t be apologizing for giving as good as he gets. 

You sigh, your expression going somber. “Listen, I know Sirius can get really—” you shake your head again, blowing out a breath “—really quite hot headed, but you can’t get in his face like that. His life has—well, it’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, but even when he says things like that, you can’t act all threatening just because you’re having a spat, okay?” 

Remus feels his brow wrinkle. “Threatening?” 

Your face softens. “You looked like you were about to hit him,” you say gently. 

Something inside Remus gutters. “I did?” 

You nod, looking almost apologetic. He feels nauseous. 

“I didn’t…” 

“I don’t think you would have,” you clarify. “I’m not saying I thought you were going to hit him, I just know how Sirius works. And from his perspective, I know how it looked. You can’t do that to him.” 

“I don’t want to do that to anyone.” Remus sounds injured even to his own ears, and so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to shut out the pained pinch of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “I really had no idea that’s how it looked. I think I got too caught up in being angry about what he said, but it won’t happen again.” 

“I know.” Your voice is gentle. You set a hand on his knee, tentative but there. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. It’s okay, just…now you know. For next time.” Remus opens his eyes again, and you smile wryly. “You can shout at him all you want. Don’t let him dish it out without making him take it, but just stay away from physical stuff like that, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees hoarsely. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You give his knee a friendly pat, leaning back against the couch cushions and sipping your tea. 

Again, Remus marvels at you. Sirius fights for you every day, whether you ask him to or not, loud and bold and relentless in his devotion to you. He wonders if Sirius knows that even when he doesn’t ask, in your own way, you go to bat for him too.

[irndad]

She favorites recipes on Instagram. 

It’s a little embarrassing how Carmen knows- that when she’s at his place watching him sketch dishes she can’t taste, he’s also paying attention to what’s on her phone. And it’s usually kistchy things- dresses and outfits with legwarmers, pop-culture breakdowns he doesn’t have time to understand, and yes, occassionally, recipes. 

Carmen adores her company. It’s a private truth, one that they boht know and yet he can’t admit under her gaze. She’s a friend of Richie’s which is endlessly fucking confusing. Both because of how incredible she is, and because it is truly insane to imagine Richie with friends. 

Carmen supposes they’re friends too, now. It doesn’t feel quite right, the way she scribbles notes for him in the mornings and has slept over quite often. She’s busy, has her own life and her own career and he’s lucky for the time he spends with her. He doesn’t really have time to date her the way he’d like to, with dinner dates and late night drives down Lake Shore, watching the sunrise over the lake on mornings where time feels like no object. 

He’s clearly given this some thought. 

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter now. Now, she’s slept over. He’s got a full-size, which felt like a good enough excuse to share the bed, even though every time they do he still ends wrapped around her like a vice, like roots of a tree, raveled in a way that seems inpenetrable. 

She’s sipping on an energy drink- he’s offered her the coffee that he’s imported, and prepared with care, but she’d obviously thought it was too bitter. And now he keeps energy drinks in the house when she stays over. She’s popped in one of her wired earbuds, and the light washes over her like a halo. She’s got a bonafide glow while she sits on his counter, scrolling through recipes. 

“That looks good,” he hears himself say, a little outside of himself, as she stops scrolling. It’s a pasta dish, and she’s favorited it. It looks more complex than it is, really, but he’s not sure he’s a good source.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I had it once when I was in Paris. It was fucking insane, Carmen, it’s so good. I’m always looking for a place to get it. I don’t really think there’s a place in Chicago where you can get it, actually.”

“It was seasonal actually,” he says back, her eyes fixed to his now, “Ever used to make it every fall. Easier to source the pine nuts.”

She looks so, so fond of him that Carmen could entertain the idea of leaning over the counter and kissing her. It’s incredibly tempting, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, endeared by his knowledge. He feels guilty, how he plays with the pencil, knowing she’s stared appreciatively at his hands. He enjoys being pretty to her, leaning into the fantasy that he could be more than her weird fuck-up friend of a friend that’s too chicken-shit to ask her out. How odd is it, that he knows what it’s like to wake up to the smell of her shampoo, but has no idea how she likes to be kissed?

He’s so bad at this he’s failed before he’s even started. 

He can cook, though. 

Cooking is methodical, and so he does it. it’s an easy love language, for him. he dices the parsely and the other fresh herbs, sautes them wirh precision, uses some of the nice butter from work- it’s a marvel, at the end of it, fragrant and warm, waiting for her arrival. 

When she does make her arrival, just on time for him, he plates the dish before she comes in. 

“Oooh,” she preens, raking her eyes up and down him. He feels perciebed, but in a way that he’d like to be. Look at me, he thinks. What a pleasure to be seen by her. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers out, “Thought I’d thank you for all your help. Late nights you’ve been staying up with me, talking through the menu and all- thought I could make you something.”

When she tastes it, it’s careful and adoring, and he’s good at this. 

“Yes chef,” she says teasingly, “Oh my god, Carmen, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. I like being here.”

He wants to kiss her again, doesn’t know why he’s not letting himself. She meets him halfway, though, kissing the corner of his mouth that only a fool would imply has plausible platonic deniability.  

“Thanks, Carm.”

“Anytime.”

He’ll kiss her properly next time.

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[luveline]

May I pretty please request an emergency medicine doctor!reader x Hotch blurb? I’d love to see both of them in careers that are difficult, yet despite that they still manage to be together because they understand each other so much. Maybe something with the rest of the team as well if it’s possible 🫶🏼🥹

Emily used to think Hotch would never be happy again. She’d drive him home after work, pick him up in the mornings, and she’d think about how miserable he was, the kind of misery that hooks you in its grip, has you turning to wine or whiskey just to keep breathing. 

She thought for sure he’d buckle. When Hayley died, he’d have to. How could you not? But he kept going and proved she should’ve had more faith in him, becoming the father Jack deserves, and, surprisingly, your partner. 

“You’re squeezing me too tight,” you mumble, just loud enough for Emily and the others to hear you where Hotch hugs you a few feet from the dinner table. “Why are you trying to break my back?” 

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” 

“Eighteen days is not three weeks.” 

“It might as well be.” Hotch peels away from you to give you a once over. Emily’s half jealousy and half fondness, seeing him love someone so obviously. “Are you hungry? I ordered for you.” 

“Super hungry. Do I smell like antiseptic?” 

“No, just soap.” 

“Well, that’s not much better.” 

Hotch puts his arm behind your back and guides you to the table. The team squeeze out hellos between mouthfuls and you take your place at Hotch’s side behind a steaming plate. You’re as ravenous as the rest of them after your long shift; Morgan can hardly get a word out of you for the first ten minutes, though he tries, and you attempt to be polite. Emily nudges him until he gets the hint to stop. 

“Here,” Hotch says, putting a heaping of his food onto your plate with a large spoon. 

“Stop.” You attack his spoon with a fork. 

“It’s fine, you like it more than I do.” 

“Don’t care. You need your energy. I’m going to make you carry me up the stairs home.” 

He’s unintimidated. “Ah.” 

“Ah,” you echo. “You sound so doubtful.” 

Hotch looks like he might try to keep flirting with you, but he gives in quickly, betraying how much he’s missed you with a hand slipping under the table. Emily sees his fingers curl over your knee, averting her gaze with a feigned sip of coke. 

She can deduce the silent question you ask one another about anyways. 

“We’ll have dessert,” you say. We won’t skip out early. “What are you having, Dr. Reid?” 

Hotch orders you three different things, which you eat fast. 

“They’re not feeding you at the hospital?” Rossi asks. 

“Three emergency transfers in twelve hours,” you explain, slouching now into Hotch’s side, one slow inch at a time. “I didn’t have time for much.” 

“That’s not healthy,” Hotch murmurs in concern. 

“I’m sure I can ask any of your friends about your eating habits and find a similar schedule,” you brush him off, raising your gaze to Emily, then Morgan, then Rossi and Reid. Everyone smiles the same way. Hotch is caught, and his laugh jostles your shoulder. 

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘do as I say, and not as I do?’” he asks. 

God, Emily thinks with a huff of a laugh she can’t contain, get a room. 

“He likes that one,” Spencer says. 

“I don’t doubt it.” You lift your lips to his jaw and press a peck to the line of it. One, then two. “Maybe that’s why we've lasted as long as we have. Mutual disregard for our wellbeing.” 

“And a great deal of care for each other,” Rossi says, nodding sagely. “This is why my marriages never last.” 

“Is that why?” Spencer asks. 

“You’ve gotten to be quite the lark.”

“Lark,” Hotch whispers to you. Emily, sitting at his other side, might be the only one who hears, the others distracted by Spencer and Rossi’s ensuing squabble.

“Scoundrel,” you agree. 

“How’s your head now?” 

“It’s gonna be a hundred percent better if you give me that,” you say, pointing hopefully at his full drink. 

He doesn’t hesitate to press it into your hand. Emily would never suspect you hadn’t seen one another for weeks; you move and he follows. You rub your cheek against his shoulder. He touches his nose to your hair, his eyes shuttering closed for one stolen, blissful second. “Missed you,” he says under his breath. 

Emily looks away with a smile. Hotch isn’t hopelessly miserable anymore. 

[butteronabun]

disclaimer: just some silly shenanigans as diluc’s s/o:

“You are the perfect man for me.”

Diluc almost drops the glass he’s washing from your sudden declaration. You can see the blush forming on those cheeks of his. It’s absolutely comical. “Pardon?”

You smile at him innocently. Oh, how lucky you are to be the only one to fluster Diluc and lose his composure. “I said what I said!”

He stares at you, long enough for you to crack a grin.

Man is speechless. He still isn’t used to your antics.

_

The night is still young.

You feel Diluc’s presence beside you as he joins you on the sheets. A comforting warmth emanates from him, and you turn to your side. As he prepares his own side of the bed, you silently admire his beefy figure and long, fluffy hair. Not to mention how he’s so kissable as of the moment.

Again, how lucky you are, to be able to have such a sight: he’s not the Master Diluc who doesn’t hesitate to kick out disrespectful drunks in his tavern, nor the one who manages the winery with such formality and professionalism. He’s especially not the vigilante who lurks from the shadows and slays enemies who threaten his nation.

For now, he’s just Diluc. Your Diluc.

“Di–luc,” you sing.

Diluc lifts his head, and stops patting on his pillows for a bit. All eyes on you. “Yes?”

“Get on top of me.”

Your lover gapes at you, before embarrassingly looking away. “No.”

You grin at him as you rise from your side. You know Diluc’s trying to avoid your gaze when he plops down beside you, but you also know that even if he’s trying to ignore you, he just can’t. He loves you too much.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” You tease, and poke him on the shoulder lightly. “And we’re in a relationship! Shouldn’t we cuddle?”

“I know what you are doing,” Diluc remarks. “This is one of your pranks, again.”

Just because you started an impromptu wrestling match with him on the bed that one time doesn’t mean you’ll do it again. Maybe. Oh. It’s so nice to see Diluc overpower you and making a point. But that story is going to be for another time. “But my request is genuine. I do really want you on top of me.”

Diluc sighs. “Sometimes it fascinates me how you can say such things so forwardly.”

“It’s because it’s you,” You kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “I love you.”

He doesn’t respond for a bit. Then, he sighs again, and glances at you. His expression is not filled with exasperation, but just fondness. Really, how did you get so lucky? “Fine. . . but no hidden intentions.”

You feign a gasp, “Is it really so bad for me to want your big arms to suffocate me?”

“Wait- that’s what you want? Love, not this again—“

_

“Diluc, just one kiss, I beg,” you plead with your eyes closed and hands clasped together in front of your chest. Diluc’s eyes are wide, a hint of red peeking from his ears, and Elzer, beside him, tries to hide his amused chuckles. “One kiss from you and I think I’ll be able to save the world!”

It’s another day in the office and Master Diluc’s beloved makes a visit again ( who really has special privileges because she’s the only one allowed to see him without any appointments ). And whenever she’s here, she always wants one thing: Diluc’s time. Elzer thinks that this change will take some time for his Master to adjust, but he won’t have it any other way.

“Please?”

“Love, didn’t I already—“

“Master Diluc, I will be excusing myself now,” Elzer bows, hoping that he will forgive him for interrupting their conversation. But he wanted to save his Master from the mortification. “I shall leave you both.”

Even if you are more vocal when it comes to desiring Diluc’s attention, Elzer is aware that the feelings are reciprocated. After all, It’s always a delight to see Master Diluc so smitten.

Before he’s out, Elzer shares a secret look with you. He doesn’t need to speak to deliver a message.

“Good luck, miss.”

Because he knows you understand him when you send him a wink.

_

Diluc meets you in the bathroom - you’re beautiful as always, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. As you look at your reflection, he knows his day is already starting great. The tune that you hum while brushing your hair is pleasing to his ears. “Good morning, my love. You seem chipper.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You smile knowingly at him, and subtly reveal the marks that he has made on your neck. His handiwork. The result of his love. “When I’m so lucky?”

Diluc smiles back. “You’re so smug.”

“And you love it~”

“I know.” He cups your cheek. “I love you.”

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 833 words | briefly a little suggestive

series masterlist ; main masterlist

When the boys get home, you’re in the kitchen finishing up some soup. You don’t want Henry to get sick with the changing weather and him starting school, so you’ve gone a bit overboard with the veggies. The front door slams shut, and you hear the low timbre of James’ voice followed by a high-pitched whine from Henry. No doubt, James is reminding him to take off his shoes. You can easily picture him crouching down, gently encouraging Henry to do it himself in that low, soothing voice of his.

“Mama!” Henry shrieks, and your heart tightens at the sound of it. Months ago, you and James had sat him down, letting him know he could call you “mama” if he wanted to. Ever since then, he’d stopped calling you “darling,” and hearing the new name still tugs at your heartstrings every time.

You set the ladle down, ready to bend down and scoop Henry up. But the moment you see him, you freeze, lips parting in surprise. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch James stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, silently watching the scene unfold.

“Do you like them?” Henry bounces on his toes, his big brown doe eyes—made even larger by his glasses—blinking up at you. A lump forms in your throat as you take in the sight.

“I love them.” You gasp, bending down as Henry shuffles toward you, grinning and bobbing his head side to side, proudly showing off his new blue frames. You’re certain James told him not to touch the lenses, judging by how his little hands fidget at his sides, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust them.

You wrap your arms around him, scooping him up to get a better look. 

“Do I look like a big boy? Daddy said I did.” As he asks, you’re hit with the realization of just how grown-up he looks. He’s no longer the baby James would frantically call you about when he was sick, or the mischievous toddler who loved yanking the scrunchie from your hair, giggling uncontrollably as you pretended you didn’t know who had stolen it.

“You do. You look just like daddy.” You murmur, eyes flickering over to James, who is watching you both with a soft look. 

Henry squirms in your arms, “I need Mr. G!” He exclaims suddenly, and you let him down so he can run and get his stuffed rabbit that wore a pair of glasses. You figure so he can have dinner with the three of you.

You watch him run off before turning your gaze to James, “You didn’t tell me he was getting glasses.”

“We wanted to surprise you.” James says with a smile, pushing away from the counter to meet you. His hands gently cup your cheeks, tilting your face up to meet his gaze as your arms instinctively wrap around his waist.

“He’s so grown up, Jamie.” You sigh, your voice thick with emotion. James gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I nearly had a meltdown in the office the first time he put them on.”

The room falls quiet for a moment before James leans down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips. It’s short-lived, though, as Henry suddenly cries out that he can’t find his bunny and needs help. James sighs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours for a beat longer before pulling away with a quiet chuckle.

“Look at that—he’s not all that grown up yet. He still needs us.” James says, a fond smile tugging at his lips. You smile softly in return, reluctantly letting him go so he can search for Mr. G.

“I love seeing him grow up, but I oddly miss the baby phase.” You sigh, and James nods in understanding.

“As hard as it was, the baby stage was my favorite. Probably because you were by my side the whole time.” James winks, then turns to head toward the stairs.

You watch him as he goes, his movements deliberate, but you catch his attention with a teasing edge to your voice. “Maybe we should have another one then.”

The words slip from your lips with a soft smile, and you can’t help but laugh when James almost stumbles on the steps, his foot catching awkwardly as he spins around, his breath hitching in his chest. His eyes lock on yours, wide and searching, as if he’s trying to gauge whether you’re serious.

“You’d better not be messing with me, darling.” He breathes out, his voice low and thick with desperation. After nearly a year of dating, and given that he’s known you for almost a decade, with you having embraced the role of Henry’s mum from the very start, he’s been waiting patiently to hear those words.

Your stomach twists in a way that sends heat coursing through you, and you offer him a slow, knowing smile. “I’m not,”you reply, your voice soft but certain.

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[bookwormjust]

Child Curiosity (established relationship with Azriel, Nyx questioning)

The Inner Circle reunited as almost every week for their famous dinner, wasn't prepared for a little curious Illyrian boy Fae, who this night decided to ask questions and have what he wanted. Because who would said no to the little boy, big blue ethereal eyes blinking at you, red little puffy cheeks, little freckle on his baby skin, no one can ignore that and only can indulge the little boy curiosity with care and attention.

Our Nyx, ever persistent in his childlike curiosity, wriggled down from Rhysand’s lap and padded over to you, his little feet barely making a sound against the floor. Without hesitation, he climbed up into your lap, nestling against you with the innocent comfort of a child who adored you. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he gazed up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Can you give me a cousin?” Nyx asked, his voice soft and earnest, as if you had the power to grant his wish with a mere word. “Mama said babies come from females. So... can you make me a cousin soon, Auntie?”

The room fell into an amused silence again, but this time there was a different kind of weight to it—a tender, loving one. The quiet snickers and glances from the Inner Circle faded as they watched the interaction with fondness, understanding the pure innocence of Nyx’s question. Feyre’s eyes shimmered with warmth, and Rhysand had a playful but proud look in his gaze as he watched his son.

You glanced at Azriel, who was already watching you intently. There was a softness in his expression, his usual stoic mask slipping as he witnessed you with Nyx on your lap, looking so natural and loving. Azriel's hazel eyes held a mixture of tenderness and longing, as if the scene before him stirred something deep inside. 

You gently brushed a hand through Nyx’s hair, smiling down at him. “Oh, sweetheart,” you said softly, your voice filled with affection. “It’s not that simple. Babies take time, and your uncle Az and I need to be ready before we can think about giving you a cousin.”

Nyx’s little brows furrowed in confusion. “But why? I’m ready now!” His innocence was almost heart-wrenching, making everyone around the table smile with both amusement and sympathy.

Cassian, unable to resist, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Looks like you’ve got a tough negotiator there, Az. Good luck explaining that one.”

Azriel chuckled softly, shaking his head as his shadows shifted in response to his relaxed mood. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze focused on both you and Nyx. “It’s not just about being ready, little one,” Azriel explained in his calm, soothing voice. “Your Auntie and I need to make sure everything is just right. We want to make sure any cousin we give you is as loved and cared for as you are.”

Nyx thought about that for a moment, looking between you and Azriel with the same intensity as if you were discussing the most important matter in the world. His small hand rested on your arm, his little fingers gripping onto you as he said, “I’ll take good care of them, I promise. I’ll share my toys and everything.”

At that, the entire table erupted into soft, warm laughter. Even Feyre, who had been watching quietly, smiled wider, brushing a tear from her eye as Rhysand squeezed her hand under the table. 

You couldn’t help but hug Nyx tighter, your heart swelling with the purity of his words. “I know you would, Nyx,” you whispered into his hair. “You’re going to be the best big cousin one day.”

Azriel leaned closer, his hand resting on your knee and his wings slightly flaring out in a protective, almost possessive gesture. “And when the time comes, Nyx, you’ll be the first to know,” Azriel added, his voice low but filled with an unspoken promise. 

Nyx beamed at that, completely content with your and Azriel’s answers. He stayed on your lap for the rest of the dinner, happily chatting with everyone while you shared a knowing smile with Azriel. The warmth of the Inner Circle surrounded you, and in that moment, with Nyx in your arms and Azriel’s hand in yours, you felt that whatever the future held, it would be filled with love, family, and a sense of belonging that went beyond words.

As the dinner went on, the soft smiles exchanged between you and Azriel carried a new kind of understanding—one of patience, love, and the quiet certainty that when the time was right, you would start the next chapter of your lives together.

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 10)

pairing: darkish!marvel ladies x fem!reader, wanda x reader, natasha x reader, kate x reader, yelena x reader, carol x reader, maria x reader - multiverse

summary: you find yourself shyly admitting your desire to be with them... and they love it

warnings: possessive behavior, teasing, edging, dirty talk, swearing

wordcount: 3.9k

an: last day of kinktober wohoo, enjoy halloween my little gays and be safe!!!

part one here!

Hours later, you’re sprawled across the bed, Wanda´s? Natasha´s? You´re not really sure, feeling a hazy warmth as the adrenaline fades and soft laughter fills the room. You’re nestled between Wanda and Natasha, each of them gently stroking your hair. Kate lies at the end of the bed, propped on her elbow, eyes glinting with a lingering mischievousness as she watches you with a fond, satisfied smile. While Carol is taking a shower and Maria is just sitting in the chair.

“Look at her,” Kate murmurs, her tone laced with both awe and amusement. “We might have worn her out.”

Wanda hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Worn out or not, she’s still perfect,” she whispers, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. There’s an undeniable pride in her gaze, something that feels as possessive as it is affectionate.

Natasha smirks, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, her expression softer than usual. “Precious is an understatement,” she says, her voice still rough but now tempered with a quiet admiration. “I think we might have a problem if anyone else finds out how amazing she is.”

You chuckle weakly, warmth blooming across your cheeks as their words sink in, and Wanda gives your hand a squeeze, her thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs. “You’re ours. We’ll make sure of that.”

Kate lets out a laugh, reaching over to give you a playful poke on the arm. “Hey, remember, Captain gets all the best cuddles,” she teases, eyes twinkling. “I wasn’t joking earlier. So make some room for her too.” She winks, making the girls roll their eyes.

Carol steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing only a loose tank top and shorts. She glances over, a smirk tugging at her lips as she takes in the scene of you nestled among the others.

“Looks like I missed the after-party,” she murmurs, eyeing the way Kate’s hand rests on your arm and Wanda’s fingers trace gentle circles on your shoulder. She raises an eyebrow at Natasha, who’s standing up and adjusting her clothes.

Natasha gives Carol a knowing look and nods. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just have to… deal with something.” The tone in her voice is vague but carries weight, and the other women exchange glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

You, however, just watch as Natasha slips out the door, wondering what exactly she has to handle. But before the thought settles, Carol slips onto the bed beside you, drawing your attention back to the moment. Her arm wraps around you with a lazy familiarity, pulling you against her as she gives you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Missed me already?” she teases, her voice low and warm, her fingers trailing down your arm in a way that sends a pleasant shiver through you.

You chuckle, nestling into the warmth of her embrace. “Maybe,” you say, trying not to sound too eager, though the comfort of her presence makes your heart flutter.

Kate grins, leaning over to you, “careful, or Captain here will get spoiled by all the attention. Next thing you know, she’ll be monopolizing all your time.” Her voice is teasing, her eyes gleaming as she shoots Carol a challenging look.

Carol chuckles, tilting her head as she meets Kate’s gaze. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Bishop. As if you don’t hog enough time with her already.”

“Both of you,” Wanda interjects, her tone light but possessive as her hand smooths over your arm. “We all know who she comes to for the real quality time.” She smirks at you, her fingers curling around yours in a gentle but unmistakably possessive hold.

You feel your cheeks flush under their collective attention, a warm glow settling over you as each of them stakes their playful claim. Maria, still sitting in the chair by the bed, shakes her head with a soft smile, watching the scene unfold with a quiet amusement.

“I mean, can you blame her?” she teases, crossing her legs and leaning back. “With all of us making sure she feels… appreciated, she’s got it pretty good.”

Carol chuckles, tightening her arm around you and brushing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll keep you occupied until Nat gets back. We can’t have you getting bored.”

Wanda leans in close, her voice a soft murmur against your ear. “Or distracted. We like keeping you right where you belong… with us.” Her lips brush your cheek, her gaze lingering as if daring you to look away.

As you sink deeper into the warmth of their embrace, a faint thought tugs at the back of your mind. Where did Natasha go? You can’t help but wonder, a trace of curiosity and concern flickering through you.

But before you can follow the thought any further, Wanda’s fingers brush your cheek, and you glance over to find her looking at you with a knowing smile. Her gaze is soft yet focused, and for a second, you feel as if she’s reading every unspoken question in your mind. Wanda’s eyes narrow slightly, a subtle, affectionate warning, as she exchanges a quick glance with the others, a silent cue for them to keep your mind occupied.

Carol picks up on it immediately, shifting closer to you and giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Pretty little thing,” she teases, her tone light as her hand trails down your arm. “are you here with us?”

You hum, Wanda looks at you, pulling your attention back to her as she strokes a finger along your jawline, her eyes glinting playfully. “Let Natasha handle her business, malysh. She’ll be back soon.” Her words are soft but intentional, grounding you in the moment.

Kate leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she tilts her head. “Or are you just that eager to get rid of us?” She arches a brow, her grin widening as she watches you, daring you to respond.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. You all make it… pretty easy to stay right here,” you admit, warmth pooling in your chest under their collective attention.

Maria’s voice joins in, her tone smooth but with a hint of playfulness. “See? Nothing to worry about, sweetheart.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

As you sink deeper into their warmth, a sudden, pleasant haze settles over you, a fuzzy, dizzying sensation that leaves your mind feeling light and blissfully blank. Each touch, each brush of their fingers on your skin, starts to feel heightened, like every sensation is magnified a thousand times over. Your senses are filled with them, the soft murmurs, the warmth of their bodies.

You feel a soft, warm pulse at the edges of your mind, almost like a lullaby. Your eyelids flutter, and you catch Wanda’s gentle smile, her gaze holding a spark of focus. Her fingers trail along your arm, featherlight and soothing, and the faint traces of questions about Natasha and everything beyond this room begin to slip away. In this moment, there’s only the soft laughter of the others around you, only the warmth spreading through you like the gentlest wave.

You notice the way the others glance at each other, small smirks and knowing looks passing between them. Carol’s hand finds yours, her thumb brushing along your knuckles, and the touch feels so overwhelmingly perfect that it melts any lingering thoughts from your mind. Kate’s laugh breaks through the fog, and she gives you a playful nudge, bringing you fully back into the comfort of the moment, leaving everything else forgotten.

The world outside this room disappears entirely, replaced only by the shared laughter, tender touches, and the feeling that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be wrapped in their warmth and undivided attention. Maria smiles and sends Natasha a simple text, "We got it all secured here, Wanda took care of it."

The morning light filters into the room, waking you gently. As you stretch and sit up, you realize you’re alone. Wanda, Kate, Carol, and Maria have all gone, leaving only the faintest scent of them behind and a folded note on the pillow next to you.

Good morning, gorgeous. Thought we’d let you get some extra sleep, didn’t want to wake you. See you later. Love, W.

You smile, tucking the note to your chest as you savor the quiet moment, replaying the warmth of last night in your mind. But then you remember something else. Yelena’s invitation, her mischievous smile as she’d told you to come to her room once you were finished with the others. A thrill of excitement rushes through you at the thought, and you slip out of bed, quickly freshening up and making your way down the hall to her room.

The door is slightly ajar, and you hear a faint hum coming from inside. You knock softly, pushing it open to find Yelena leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her expression one of smug satisfaction. She straightens when she sees you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she teases, her eyes twinkling as she beckons you closer. “Thought you might’ve forgotten about me after all that… attention from the others.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, feeling the familiar warmth spread through you as she studies you, a playful edge in her gaze. “Oh, trust me, I didn’t forget,” you reply, trying to match her confidence. But there’s something in the way she looks at you that makes your pulse quicken.

“Good,” she says, her tone lower now as she takes a step toward you. “Because I’ve got some ideas of my own, and I’ve been waiting long enough.”

As she pulls you into her arms, the events of last night fade into the background, your focus entirely on her. And with the same sense of warmth and safety from the night before, you let yourself be fully present, knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be - surrounded by those who treasure you.

"Alredy this needy?" Yelena chuckles as she feels you bucking your hips.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words catch in your throat as she leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “What’s the matter?” she teases, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “Cat got your tongue?”

Her fingers find their way to your chin, lifting your gaze to meet hers. The confidence in her eyes is enough to leave you feeling completely flustered. “You know,” she says, drawing out each word, “I could get used to seeing you like this... speechless and staring at me like I’m the only one in the world.”

You swallow, desperately trying to keep your composure, but Yelena only grins wider, clearly enjoying how easily she has you unraveling. “Aww, don’t tell me you’re already getting shy on me,” she taunts, her voice laced with that familiar sarcasm. “You weren’t so shy with the others last night, were you?”

You try to answer, but her hands slide to your waist, pulling you even closer, and any coherent thought melts away. She leans back slightly, studying your face with a smug expression, fully aware of the effect she has on you.

“Oh, look at this mess,” she purrs, feigning sympathy as her thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “All flustered… just from me standing here. I didn’t even have to do anything.” She chuckles softly, and the sound sends another shiver through you.

Her fingers tap against your waist as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You think you can handle me, детка?”

Finally finding your voice, you manage a breathless, “Yes.” But even you can hear the doubt in your tone, and Yelena’s smirk grows, clearly reveling in the power she holds over you.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart,” she says, her voice softening slightly, though the teasing glint never leaves her eyes. “Just remember, I don’t make things easy.”

And with that, she leans in, her lips brushing yours, a lingering, torturous pause that leaves you yearning for more.

Before you can process what’s happening, Yelena’s hands are on your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back until you’re lying on the bed, looking up at her. A wicked grin spreads across her face as she leans over you, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face before trailing down your arm.

She dips her head, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both soft and intoxicating, leaving you completely breathless. Her lips move with a practiced ease, each kiss sending butterflies tumbling through your stomach, and you find yourself melting under her touch, any semblance of control slipping away.

When she pulls back, you’re left dizzy, caught up in the warmth of the moment, until you feel the light pressure at your wrists. You glance down, realizing that Yelena has tied your hands, her knots tight and secure, the silken fabric binding you to the bedframe.

Your eyes widen, and Yelena bursts into laughter, her expression both proud and amused. She looks down at you with that familiar, confident smirk, clearly relishing the surprise on your face.

“Oh, you really are something special, aren’t you?” she teases, crossing her arms as she watches you struggle with a playfulness in her eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d notice. Took you long enough, though.”

You open your mouth, searching for a response, but her laughter cuts you off, and she leans down, her lips just inches from yours as she whispers, “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

She brushes her nose against yours, her eyes dancing with mischief. “What’s the matter? You didn’t think I’d let you get away so easily, did you?”

You tug at the binds, but Yelena’s knots are impeccable, each one a testament to her talent and training as a spy. She watches your efforts with a smirk, her fingers tracing along your cheek as she murmurs, “Oh, you’re too easy to fool. But that’s what makes you so much fun.”

Her voice is soft yet laced with amusement, and you can feel the heat rise.. You realize she’s enjoying every moment of your reaction, her own satisfaction evident in the way her smirk widens.

“Relax,” she purrs, giving your tits a light squeeze. “I’ve got you all to myself, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Time blurs as Yelena’s hands roam over you, her hands everywhere. She keeps you right on the edge, bringing you so close but never quite letting you tip over. Each time you think she’s finally going to let you cross that finish line, she pulls back, she chuckles at your frustrated whimpers.

Hours slip by, and every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, a mixture of yearning and helplessness. Yelena, always just out of reach, seems to be thoroughly enjoying your reactions, her smirk growing wider with each plea you let slip.

Finally, when she’s had her fill, she leans over and unties your wrists, her touch gentle despite the teasing grin she wears. You’re left feeling breathless, limbs heavy and mind fuzzy, completely undone by her relentless torment.

"W-what?" You breathe heavily.

Yelena sits back, her eyes dancing with amusement as she looks over your thoroughly wrecked state. “Oh, poor you,” she murmurs with mock sympathy, brushing her fingers over your flushed cheek. Her voice is a soft, teasing purr. “Did you really think I was going to let you finish, hm?”

You open your mouth, still too dazed to respond, and she grins, her tone dripping with playful condescension. “I didn’t say I’d make you cum, did I? Oh,” she whispers, her smirk growing, “you’re just too easy to mess with.”

She leans in, pressing one last, taunting kiss to your forehead. “Maybe next time,” she murmurs, giving you a wink as she stands.

Before Yelena can give you moment of aftercare, the door creaks open, and Wanda steps inside, her eyes landing on the two of you. She tilts her head, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, her gaze drifting from your dazed, messy form to Yelena’s thoroughly pleased expression.

“Well,” Wanda says, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement as she takes in the scene, “looks like someone’s had a lot of fun.” She gives Yelena a pointed look, smirking. “Mind telling me exactly what you’ve been up to, Yelena?”

Yelena grins, unabashed, stretching out with a look of satisfaction. “Just a little… patience training,” she says, her voice dripping with smugness. She winks at you, “our girl here is a very good learner.”

Wanda’s eyes soften as she watches you, noticing the dazed, needy look in your eyes, and she steps closer, brushing a hand gently along your cheek. “Poor thing,” she murmurs, her voice filled with sweetness and care. She shoots Yelena a half-playful, half-scolding look. “You’ve completely worn her out, haven’t you?”

Yelena chuckles, unrepentant. “She handled it,” she replies with a smirk, but there’s a hint of affection in her gaze as she watches Wanda fuss over you.

Wanda shakes her head, her expression softening as she carefully helps you sit up, supporting you with a gentle arm around your shoulders. “Come on,” she murmurs, her voice soothing as she guides you up. “Let’s get you to your room. Can you walk on your own, malysh?”

You nod and you cling to her, grateful for the warmth of her touch and the gentle way she leads you through the halls. By the time you’re back in your room, you’re feeling incredibly clingy, leaning into Wanda as if you never want to let go.

She chuckles softly as she helps you settle into bed, her fingers brushing through your hair with gentle, soothing strokes. “You did so well,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now, alright?"

You nod, a sleepy smile spreading across your face as you nuzzle closer to her, feeling a warmth and comfort that wraps around you like a soft blanket. Wanda’s arms hold you close, her voice a soothing murmur as she reassures you, letting you know that you’re safe and adored, right where you belong.

You stir awake, your eyes fluttering open to the soft rustling of pages. Wanda sits beside you, legs crossed, reading a book, a serene look on her face. She glances down, noticing you’re awake, and her face lights up with a gentle smile.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she murmurs, closing the book and setting it aside.

You stretch and blink, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “What time is it?”

“It’s lunchtime,” Wanda replies, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Time for some food, what do you say?”

Food sounds amazing. Yum.

Her words send a little thrill through you, and you nod, letting her help you up as you both make your way toward the dining area. As soon as you step into the room, you notice the others - Carol, Maria, Kate, Yelena, and Natasha, all sitting around the table, their voices dropping to a hush the moment you walk in.

Natasha’s eyes meet yours, and a sly smile spreads across her face as she gets up and pulls out a chair for you. “Oh, detka, there you are,” she purrs, her voice warm and inviting. “Hungry?”

You feel your cheeks flush as everyone’s attention settles on you, and you nod, settling into the seat Natasha pulled out. Wanda takes the spot beside you, and the others exchange knowing glances before Kate starts piling your plate with food.

“Yelena really did numbers on you,” Kate teases, shooting a smirk across the table at Yelena, who only shrugs with an innocent expression. “Guess she wore you out?”

“Oh, not completely,” Yelena chimes in, her tone dripping with mischief. “Our girl’s tougher than she looks.”

Carol laughs softly, shaking her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “Really? Looks like she’s still a bit… unsatisfied.” Her gaze falls on you, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity.

You shift in your seat, feeling a warm, needy ache flare up at the memory of Yelena’s endless teasing earlier, which none of the others seem to have forgotten. You clear your throat, trying to keep it together, but they’re all watching you with varying degrees of amusement, each one fully aware of your lingering frustration.

Natasha leans in, her lips close to your ear as she murmurs, “Don’t worry, malyshka. We’ll take good care of you.” She pulls back with a wink, her voice dripping with a sultry promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

Maria, leaning back in her chair, gives you an amused once-over. “You know, we all like a challenge. And you? You’re definitely worth it.” Her words hang in the air, a mixture of sweetness and mischief.

Wanda reaches for your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze, her expression soft but knowing. “Poor thing,” she coos, voice just loud enough for the others to hear. “Looks like we might have to put in a little extra effort today, hmm?”

You squirm, feeling all their gazes fixed on you, the warmth spreading from your cheeks down to the pit of your stomach as they continue to pile on the teasing remarks. Kate chuckles, taking a bite of her food. “Hope you’re ready, sweetheart. We’ve got plenty of energy to make sure you don’t feel… neglected.”

You try to focus on your food, but every little touch, every lingering glance, only heightens the needy ache that hasn’t left since this morning. It’s clear they’re having way too much fun watching you squirm, and as lunch goes on, you realize they have no intention of letting you off easy.

Eventually, Kate leans forward, “so, how about you, sweetheart?” she asks, her voice smooth and teasing. “What’s your opinion on all of this?”

You blink, caught off guard, and you stammer as you try to form a response. “I, um… well…” You can feel the heat rising in your face as all of their eyes turn to you, each one wearing an expression that’s both amused and intrigued.

“I mean,” you start, swallowing hard, “I think… I’d like it… if you all—” You falter under their collective gaze, words fumbling as you try to explain yourself, but each attempt only makes them grin wider.

“Would like it… if we all…?” Carol raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, honey, you can say it. We don’t bite. Well, unless you want us to.”

The others chuckle softly, and Wanda squeezes your hand, her voice a gentle murmur. “Just say what you’re thinking, malyshka. We’re all listening.”

You take a shaky breath, gathering what little courage you have left. “I just… I wouldn’t mind if… if you all…” You trail off, feeling your cheeks go warm, but you push through, your voice barely a whisper. “If you’d all just… have some fun with me.”

The silence that follows is electric, charged with an anticipation that has your heart pounding. Natasha grins, her eyes darkening as she exchanges a glance with the others. “Well,” she murmurs, her tone laced with satisfaction. “There’s no need to be shy with us.”

Maria chuckles, leaning back with an approving nod. “Took you long enough to ask, sweetheart.”

Wanda’s fingers trace lightly over the back of your hand, her expression soft yet possessive. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs, a smile curling her lips. “We’re just getting started.”

Thank you for reading, also HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

[ellecdc]

The High Price of Family

chef!Sirius who has some explaining to do x mixologist!reader [1k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

CW: fluff, one reference to having 'been inside' reader

“Red, can you tell your husband to stop being a prat?” Sirius muttered as he stalked back into the kitchen where Lily was sitting at the kitchen island “helping” Sirius cook (which translated roughly to flipping through a magazine as Sirius did all of the work but being credited for having kept him company). 

“James! Stop being a prat!” She called out easily, not bothering to look up from the celebrity gossip she was reading.

“I’m not being a prat!” James called back.

“Then stop pretending to be mad at your best mate!” She conceded, and both she and Sirius shook their heads in fond exasperation as they heard James storming towards the kitchen.

He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with his hair a mess (not unusual), his arms crossed (somewhat unusual - he did have very nice biceps that he liked to flaunt every now-and-again), and a dark scowl on his face (very unusual). 

“I am not pretending.” He hissed, his stormy gaze flitting between Lily and Sirius before Regulus and Remus entered the kitchen and each took a seat at the table. 

“Do you know what he has me saved as in his phone? Hm? His honorary brother and best friend with whom he has lived for much of his life? James. Fleamont. Potter.” James announced severely, emphasising each part of his name by hitting the side of his open right hand against the flattened palm of his left. “He government named me, Lils! Even Remus is at least only Remus J Lupin, but nooo, I get the full legal name.” 

“I think that’s perfectly acceptable.” Regulus offered primly. “It is your name, isn’t it?” 

Remus snorted a laugh before pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s head. “You two are so weird.”

“It is weird!” James shrilled. 

“What do you have me saved as, Sirius?” Lily asked then; Sirius smirked.

“Lily Evans.”

A horrified sound came from the general direction of James as he stared at his best mate with a look of horror and betrayal, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. 

“But we’ve been married for fifteen years!” 

“And I’ve had Lily saved in my phone for seventeen.” Sirius responded simply. 

“This is absurd!”

“Why are you so bent out of shape about Sirius’ contact list?” Remus asked finally as Harry walked into the kitchen; hovering over Sirius as he dodged Sirius’ half-assed attempts at keeping him from stealing “tests” of his dinner. 

“Oh, dad’s miffed because he saw what Sirius has his new girlfriend saved as in his phone.” 

Remus let out a hum of understanding as Regulus let out a rather inelegant snort. “What’s the future Mrs. Black saved as?” He taunted, earning him a glare from his older brother.

“Y/N martini glass emoji.” James announced dramatically. 

Sirius continued cooking as Remus, Regulus, and Lily all stared at him in silence before Lily finally broke it with an “awe”.

“No! Not ‘awe’!” James shrilled.

“Oh come on, James. You’re only mad because Harry got to meet her first.” Remus placated, causing James to harrumph as he sat dejectedly beside his wife. 

“S’not fair.” He grumbled at the same time Regulus asked Harry what you were like. 

“Oh, she’s hot.” Harry offered quickly around a mouthful of stolen food, earning him an ‘oi!’ from his godfather. 

“Don’t objectify her like that!” He defended quickly, earning him a bemused look from his godson. 

“But…she is?” He asked.

Sirius blinked owlishly at Harry before turning back to his food. “Well, yes, but-”

“When do the rest of us get to meet her, then?” Regulus interrupted.

“Never.” Sirius muttered.

“And why not!?” James beseeched. 

“Because you’re horribly embarrassing and dramatic!” Sirius volleyed, turning towards his best friend and gesturing at him vaguely as if to say ‘see? Case in point’.

“Well that’s not fair.” Regulus pouted at the same time Remus let out a conceding ‘yeah, that’s fair’. 

“So what? You’re just going to meet the love of your life and never introduce her to your family?” Lily teased, causing Sirius to groan and let his shoulders fall. 

“That had sort of been the plan, yeah.” 

“Tough.” Regulus spat.

“You should host a party, Sirius; have us all over to meet her.” Remus offered.

“Fat chance.” 

“What about my birthday, then?” Regulus chimed in.

Sirius turned to look at his brother sceptically. “What about your birthday?” 

“Perhaps I host a party at our place.” 

“Perhaps you do…” Sirius continued.

“Perhaps you bring a plus one.” 

“Perhaps I don’t.”

“Perhaps,” Regulus continued, “that’s what I want for my birthday.” 

Remus nodded gravely at that. “That’s actually exactly what Regulus wants for his birthday, Sirius. He’d asked me for it first but it's not exactly something I can get for him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want for Regulus’ birthday too.” James added quickly. 

“You don’t get anything for Regulus’ birthday.” Sirius sneered at him. 

“Yes, well,” Regulus started - clearly quite chuffed with what he considered a victory - as he stood to join Harry in stealing food directly from Sirius’ pan, “I do hope neither of you have plans next weekend, because I’m expecting both of you there.”

Sirius sighed and stepped away from the stove as he told the gremlins to ‘have at ‘er’ before grabbing his phone from the kitchen island and opening up your messages.