#it’s him being like ‘wow.. so THIS is what love feels like?’

[sigilslvt]

JEALOUSY • DRABBLE

☣︎ Summary: The men all have their reasons for getting jealous around you. But how exactly do they react when they feel the threat is much more real? SURELY, they’re rational, right?

Includes: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami

Tags: fem! reader, friends to lovers, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, teasing, bulging, pussy eating, choking, breeding, praise, overstim, possessiveness, threatened gun violence, toxic possessiveness, car sex, dry humping, rough sex, squirting, pining, premature ejaculation, love bombing, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, true form sukuna, slight angst

WC: 13.1k

A/N: I cackled writing Choso’s, my poor baby is too precious 😩💜

༒︎ Gojo Satoru ༒︎

You pull into the gas station because, once again, your car is on its last leg. Satoru’s been absolutely useless this entire car ride, lounging like some kind of overgrown housecat, sunglasses crooked on his nose, humming the most obnoxious song he can think of just to get under your skin. His long legs are kicked up on your dashboard like he’s king of the world.

“Finally, a pit stop,” he says, stretching dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d just run us out of gas for fun. You know, to create a bonding moment.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, putting the car in park. “Stay in the car. Not that I have to tell you that.”

He snickers, not even looking up from whatever weird little game he’s playing on his phone. “Sure thing, sugar. Let me know if you need me to heroically pump the gas for you. I’ll try not to make it look too easy.”

You ignore him because giving him attention only makes it worse. You grab your wallet and step out, the cold air biting at your face as you swipe your card and get ready to fill the tank as quickly as possible so you can return to the cocoon of warmth that is your car. You’re in your own little zone, minding your business, when a voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hey there! Need some help?”

You glance up, startled, and see a guy walking over. He’s got that effortless, small-town-boy charm, the kind of guy who probably calls everyone “ma’am” and knows how to fix a tractor. He’s smiling, too— a little too widely, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s taking the pump right out of your hands.

“Oh, I had it,” you say, trying to be polite, but this guy is already on a roll.

“Nah, no worries,” he says, grinning. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to pump their own gas. It’s just not right.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between confusion and being impressed, because— wow. Is this really happening?

You glance back at your car, hoping Gojo hasn’t noticed, but as soon as your eyes land on his, you know you’re doomed. He’s sitting up now, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, staring at you both like he’s just been served the juiciest gossip of the year. His grin is growing and you’re sure he’s ready to put on a show.

Before you can stop him, he throws open the car door and steps out like he’s been summoned to the stage. He stretches unnecessarily— arms up, head tilted back, like he’s on the cover of a sports magazine— and then saunters over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

The gas station guy looks up, noticing Gojo for the first time. His smile falters just a little. “Oh, uh… hey. Didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Satoru’s already grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m just her boyfriend. You know, the adoring, perfect, doting one who pumps her gas all the time.”

You groan. “Toru—”

“What? I’m just saying, it’s cute that you’re trying to help, bud,” he says, turning back to the guy with a grin so wide it’s almost terrifying. “But this is kind of my thing. I know she’s just the sweetest, but she’s taken.You get it, right? Yeah, you get it.”

The poor guy blinks, clearly unsure if Satoru’s joking or about to start something. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he mutters, handing the pump back to you like it’s radioactive. “You two have a good day.”

“Oh, we will!” Gojo chirps, giving him a little salute. “And hey, nice try, man. Better luck next time.”

The guy doesn’t even look back. He practically sprints back to the safety of the gas station, and as soon as he’s gone, you turn to Toru, crossing your arms and pursing your lips in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as he leans casually against the car. “I was just making sure no one stole my job. You know how much I love pumping your gas.”

You gape at him. “You’ve never pumped gas in your life!”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “That’s what makes this moment so special. It’s a sacred duty.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders, “you love me. Isn’t that wild?”

“Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack. Want something?” you roll your eyes and start walking toward the station.

“I’ll come with, I’m craving something sweet.” he smirks with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite discern.

You raise a brow and walk with him, entering the gas station with the goal to grab a bag of chips and water, but the second you head for them, your hand is being trapped by Satoru’s and he’s tugging you toward the bathroom. You shoot him a look of confusion and annoyance, but he pays it no mind as he yanks you inside, closing the door behind you and pressing you against it.

“Toru, wha—”

“Told you I wanted something sweet, sugar. Bend over a little f’me.” he instructs, turning you so you’re facing the door. Your palms lay flat against it, trying to use it as leverage to turn yourself, but he presses your head to the door, too, his strong palm mushing your cheeks to it, sucking his teeth in disapproval.

“You’re insane, w-we’re in a gas station,” you try to reason with him, but his hand’s already shoved up your skirt and peeling down your panties. “Satoru, seriously…”

“Y’telling me to stop? She’s cryin’ f’me, though, I think she’ll be so sad if I don’t give her what she wants,” he purrs, getting to his knees and littering kisses on the fat of your ass. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re lost to him the moment he stuffs his face into your already dripping cunt, bucking yourself back against him and into the feel of his greedy tongue slipping between your folds and down, down, down to your clit. You can feel him smirking against you when he draws out a long shaky whine from your lips between your panting and while normally his cockiness would annoy you beyond belief, it instead turns you on more. And yet—

“Wh-hah— why couldn’t this wait until we got to the hotel?” you ask, nails scraping down the door when he plunges his tongue into your twitching hole.

He pulls away for a moment, spreading your ass to spit a glob of saliva between your folds and slurp it back up while sucking your clit. No answer. You huff and tremble, unsure of how long you’ll be able to keep yourself standing if he’s just gonna keep eating you like a man starved.

You try, you really do, to keep your voice down, but when his tongue hits that spot inside of your gummy walls, his hand between your thighs and thumb working on your clit, you can’t help but let your moans slip out. And oh, does that make him even more unrelenting. His thumb draws circles on your clit quicker and with more pressure, his tongue fucking into you as rough as can be. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing labored as you feel that sweet sweet build up that you love so much. He knows what comes next and while normally, he’d see you to the end, this time he stops, earning a frown from your pretty face.

“Wh-why’d y—” you start.

“Y’mine, say it.”

“What? Toru, what’s—”

“Say. It. Say y’mine… say y’love me and I’ll make you cum so good, sugar, I promise.” he all but whines.

You don’t know why it needs to be said or what’s going on with him, but you’ll be damned if you let your orgasm escape you. With every second that passes, it runs from you, so you give him what he needs. “I’m yours, baby. I love you.” you coo.

“Again.” he huffs against your cunt, making your knees weak. He’s so close. You’re so close.

“I love y— hah,” your breath escapes you when he delves his tongue back into your pulsing hole. “Fuuuuck… I love you, I love you, I l— fuck!” your cunt tries it’s best to grip his tongue, but he fucks it into you with more force as you cum on it, losing strength in your legs and slumping down while your brain goes dumb with pleasure.

He holds you up, tongue slipping out of you and back to your clit, his head shaking side to side while he licks at your clit, overstimulating you beyond belief. All you can do is cry out for mercy, palms battering at the bathroom door as you raise your white flag.

With that, he frees you from the sweet torture, massaging your thighs and resting back on his ankles. “I’m pumping your gas from now on.” he huffs.

Coming back to your senses, you realize why he pulled this stunt off. “Satoru. Were you… jealous!?” you chuckle in disbelief.

“I’ve got nothing to be jealous about, it seems. What with the ‘I love you, I love you, I—’” he mocks you while standing up and you smack his arm.

“Sh-shut up.” You huff, pouting as he puts your panties back in place, dolling you back up and kissing your shoulder.

“Nope. But you’re gonna wish you had when the poor guy out there’s blushing redder than red.” he teases. Your eyes widen and you cover your mouth with your hand when you realize he had to have heard everything.

“You’re insane.” your voice is muffled by your hand.

“Insane’s one word for it,” he smirks. “I like to say I’m just crazy for you.”

Not long later, you’re climbing back into the car. Satoru follows, flopping into the passenger seat with a contented sigh like he’s just won a marathon.

As you pull out of the station, he stretches again, kicking his feet up on the dash like he owns the place. “You know,” he says casually, “you should really thank me. That guy was totally about to ask for your number. I saved you from a very awkward situation.”

And you could quite literally kill him.

༒︎ Geto Suguru ༒︎

The room is buzzing with conversation, a polite undercurrent of tension that doesn’t escape you. Cult leaders and their followers mill about in finely tailored clothes, exchanging calculated smiles and empty pleasantries. You’re trying your best to look engaged, but your thoughts keep drifting to Suguru.

He stands a few feet away, surrounded by a small circle of curse users, his tall frame commanding attention with ease. His black robes flow elegantly around him, his long hair tied back neatly. The faint smirk on his face, the calm way he speaks— it all oozes confidence. Control. Every now and then, he glances in your direction, his sharp eyes softening for just a moment before flicking back to the conversation.

You’re nursing a drink near the refreshment table when someone sidles up beside you.

“Ah, I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” a smooth voice says.

You turn to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his polished appearance almost too pristine. His expression is warm but calculated, and his sharp eyes are already fixed on you. Takeda. You recognize him instantly— leader of a large, influential cult. Non-sorcerer, but powerful in his own way.

“Good evening,” you reply, forcing a polite smile. They have their role to play, Geto tells you, so you make sure to keep appearances with non-sorcerers despite their usual poor attitude toward you.

He smiles wider. “Good evening, indeed. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all by yourself. It seems almost criminal for someone as lovely as you to be left alone at an event like this.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, a small flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you say, gesturing subtly in Suguru’s direction.

Takeda follows your gaze and chuckles softly. “Suguru Geto. Of course. I’ve heard much about him.” His attention snaps back to you, and his smile turns almost wolfish. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised. I didn’t think someone so… captivating would end up with a man who seems so creepy… Besides, I’m sure he’s always so busy. Too busy to truly appreciate a beauty like you.”

Your face heats further, and you stammer, “He’s not too busy. He’s just—”

Before you can finish, he takes your hand in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned, deliberate, and enough to leave you momentarily stunned. Not in awe, but in pure shock. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

Your breath catches, and you feel a wave of heat rush to your face. You try to pull your hand back, but his grip is firm— not unkind, but enough to make you falter. You can’t ruin appearances by hurting him, so you allow it, praying he’ll give up soon.

“A pleasure meeting you,” he murmurs, his lips still ghosting over your skin.

And then you feel it— the air shifting suddenly. A heavy, familiar presence fills the space around you, and Takeda finally releases your hand. You glance over your shoulder to see Suguru a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on the two of you as he approaches.

“Takeda,” Suguru says smoothly, his tone light but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip because you know better.

Takeda straightens and flashes a smile that’s far too confident. “Geto. What a pleasure to see you,” He gestures toward you. “I was just introducing myself to your lovely partner. She’s quite… enchanting.”

Suguru’s lips twitch, curving into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m aware.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels too loud in the quiet. Suguru’s gaze flickers briefly to your hand before returning to Takeda.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he continues softly.

Takeda chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to respond. Geto’s not usually the type to be confrontational in public. It’s normally all smiles and politics for him, so this has Takeda stunned. “I meant no disrespect, of course.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully. “No disrespect… Of course not.” He tilts his head slightly, his smile sharpening. “But you’d do well to remember your place, Takeda. Admiration is one thing. Touching, however…” He trails off, his tone turning razor-sharp, dark eyes honing in on the poor man’s. “That’s dangerous, especially for someone like you.”

Takeda falters, his polished demeanor cracking for just a moment. “I— I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters before excusing himself and retreating into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Suguru turns to you, his sharp expression softening slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“You seemed… flustered,” he says finally, his voice quiet but probing.

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “I wasn’t, he just caught me off guard,” you mumble.

Suguru steps closer, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you sure? Because from where I was standing…” He pauses, his voice dropping. “It looked like you didn’t mind it.”

“Suguru—”

“Did you like it?” he interrupts, his tone impossibly soft, almost vulnerable. “A weakling holding your hand, kissing it like that… Did you enjoy it?” 

Your heart twists at the faint frown tugging at his lips, the rare glimpse of uncertainty in his usually composed expression. That’s when you recognize the look in his eye. It isn’t anger, it’s fear. Insecurity. Things you never expected to see from him.

“No,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “Of course not. I could never, baby.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign of dishonesty. Finally, he exhales softly and takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over the spot where Takeda’s lips had been.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm.

He leads you down a hallway, wanting to be away from the noise and chatter of the convention. When he pushes open the door to an empty room and pulls you inside, the silence feels almost deafening in comparison to everything on the outside.

Suguru closes the door and turns to face you, his dark eyes heavy with emotion. Without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“Say what?” you ask softly, your hands resting on his chest.

“That you’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “That you wouldn’t leave me for some monkey.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his tone. “I’m yours, of course I’m yours.” You whisper, your hands curling into his robes. “Always.”

The next thing you know, his lips are melting yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more insistent. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven, and his eyes are darker than ever.

“Again,” he all but whines, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice racing as your heart squeezes. “Only yours.”

He exhales sharply, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Good,” he whispers, moreso to himself. “Good… because I need you.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you again, this time with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to erase every trace of Takeda’s touch from your skin.

His nails dig into your sides, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting all that you have— all that you are. He’s needy, moving to hoist you up and hook your legs around his waist.

Your dress rides up your thighs and he wastes no time gripping at the fat of them, subtly rolling his hips into you in a way that tells you he may just be doing it subconsciously. Gasps are shared between your lips as he kisses you a few more times before moving to swipe his tongue up your neck, stopping just under your jaw and sucking a big fat hickey into the crevice.

It feels so good that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working their way down, down, down to your ass, pulling you into him with every roll of his hips. You feel how hard he is even through his robes, unable and unwilling to stop yourself from sliding the top of his gojogesa off his broad shoulders. You’re dipping your head down to pepper kisses all over his shoulder while he marks you up, your nails leaving marks of their own on his skin from how hard you’re gripping him.

You know what this is. Know what he needs. You’d be a fool to stop him from taking it. “Sugu… here.” You tell him, emphasizing your words by rolling your hips in tandem with his.

You swear you hear him growl as he tears his lips from your throat and grips your underwear on one side to tear them off, your eyes widening at the action. Suguru’s normally a calm, calculated man, even when he makes love to you, everything is suave and he’s always in control, but now? Now, he’s become someone entirely different. Someone needy. Someone eager to prove a point. To stake a claim.

“Here, angel.” Is all you hear before your mouth is stuffed with your own underwear and– when did he whip his dick out? You’ve got no idea, but it’s plugged into you before you can react, a long and grateful groan just spilling from Suguru’s lips like he’s finally laying in bed after a long day of hard labor. He’s home. Your head falls back against the door and he uses the opportunity to attack your neck again, littering the skin with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.

He’s got no rhyme or rhythm in his thrusts, he simply ruts into you with a force that has the door shaking, the metal bar rattling and making your stomach lurch with fear at the fact that it could so easily be pushed for you two to end up on display for everyone. The fear falls away soon, however, replaced with nothing but pleasure when he’s targeting that wonderful gummy little bullseye that makes you go dumb on his cock.

Your eyes start searching for something in the back of your head, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and soaking your underwear as your shaky moans are muffled by the fabric. And you don’t know when it started, but your ears tune into Suguru whining the same thing repeatedly. “Mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—” again and again and again with every punctuated thrust targeting your poor cervix.

Your nails rake down his back, hoping to find some sort of balance to compensate for the fact that your legs are beginning to ragdoll, no strength left in them as they flop by his sides with every thrust. Except, you don’t have to worry. No, his grip on you is bruising, he never wants to let you go.

And you wish you could see his face in this moment. See how he looks when he’s so adamant about proving it to himself that you’re his. Before you know it, you’re snaking a hand into his hair and tugging his head back, earning a needy little whine from his puffy lips before he’s looking at you. Oh, is he looking at you. Like you’re the world. Like you’re salvation. His brows are drawn tightly together, a pout on his lips that tells you he’d be nothing without you. God, you wanna kiss him. Wanna tell him a million times over that you’d never even think of another.

The look on your face tells him exactly what you want, you think, because in the next instant, he’s tearing the underwear from your mouth and crushing his lips into yours. His thrusts have rhythm now, his hips fucking into you with urgency. Every time his thick cock slips past your puffy folds, you’re inched closer, oh so closer to cumming and your stomach draws tight at the feeling. He’s chasing both of your orgasms, not once missing that spongey little spot that makes you see stars as he pounds you into the door, your voice sounding out to God knows how many people are in the hallway while you kiss him, your drool now slipping down his chin.

You hear him groan into the kiss as his hips start to falter– he’s close. And yet, while his rhythm is lost, his force is worse. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there. “I love you,” he whines against your lips before breaking away and letting his head fall back. “I love you, I love you, I. Fucking. Love. You.” He punctuates the last repetition with a thrust for each word, cumming on the very last one along with you, who couldn’t help but cum at the words he’s never said before.

You two had been together for a year. A whole year and not once had Suguru ever uttered the words. You always knew he wasn’t an emotional man, so you never expected to hear the words. You felt it, though. His care for you. It was in his actions. How he never forgot an important date, how he would always bring home food or a treat or flowers for you, how he loathed being away from you for any given reason. And yet, the words still shock you.

He ruts into you a few more times before he stills, nothing to be heard except for your breaths shared between each other until his eyes go wide– perhaps in realization of what he’s just said, and he kisses you. Softer this time. More sure of himself. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he’s confessed.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your thighs. “Don’t let anyone else touch you like that again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Not angry, not upset, just… needy.  “I don’t care who it is. I won’t stand for it. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I just can’t bear to see that again.”

You smile and offer a tired chuckle, brushing his hair back from his face. “Y’know, for someone usually so calculated and knowing, you sure are stupid,” you shake your head softly. “I love you, too. More, actually.”

His lips press against your temple, and he exhales slowly, the tension in his body finally easing. “Not possible,” he murmurs again, his voice soft. You can hear his smile in it. “Nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you.”

༒︎ Toji Fushiguro ༒︎

You aren’t sure if dragging Toji to your high school reunion is a brilliant idea or the worst decision you’ve made all year. On one hand, you know he can charm the socks off anyone when he wants to, all cocky smirks and lazy grins that send shivers down your spine. On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly thrive in situations that involve niceties and polite small talk—especially with people he doesn’t give a shit about. Still, you’ve convinced him, mostly because you want to show him off. He’s hot, and he’s yours. What’s the point if you can’t gloat a little?

Toji is surprisingly well-behaved for most of the evening. He nurses a glass of bourbon with his usual swagger, leaning against the bar and throwing you looks that tell you that he’ll be waiting for you to make this worth his while later. He even manages to avoid scaring off too many of your old classmates, though you catch the occasional side-eye when he’s not so subtle about telling them to fuck off. Everything’s going smoothly.

That is, of course, until he notices you talking to him.

You don’t mean to bump into your ex-boyfriend. Really, you don’t. But there he is, standing near the drink table with the same easy grin you remember from your teenage years. He calls your name, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling back and walking over. Toji’s gaze burns into your back the entire way.

“Wow, you look amazing,” your ex says, his tone warm but casual. It’s just an observation— a compliment between old friends, but you can just feel the way Toji’s teeth grind from across the room.

“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, keeping your tone light. The conversation flows easily, filled with harmless reminiscing about old high school antics. Nothing romantic. Nothing serious. Just memories of embarrassing pranks, favorite teachers, and the god-awful cafeteria food.

But you know Toji. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching, his sharp green eyes narrowing every time your ex laughs or steps just a little too close. You can practically hear the internal dialogue: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”

Then your ex does it. The thing you know is going to push Toji over the edge.

He hugs you.

It’s quick and friendly, a casual embrace to say goodbye. But as soon as your ex’s arms wrap around you, you feel your body being eaten up by your boyfriend’s shadow. You pull back quickly, about to turn to Toji to defuse whatever storm is brewing, but it’s too late.

He moves quickly— silent and deadly. One second, he’s leaning against the bar. The next, he’s standing behind you, his presence towering and suffocating. His hand rests on the back of your neck, deceptively casual as he leans in close.

“I dunno why yer touchin’ her, pal,” Toji drawls, his voice low and dangerous, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Your ex blinks, clearly startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I… sorry? I was just saying goodb—”

Toji’s hand moves and you worry he may actually hit the poor guy. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna say goodbye, then get the fuck outta here,” Toji says, his grin sharp and feral as he subtly lifts his sweater just enough to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “Before I decide you don’t need yer legs.”

Your ex’s eyes go wide and he stumbles over himself to retreat, mumbling something about it being nice to see you before practically sprinting away. You don’t even have time to scold Toji before security is suddenly very interested in the two of you.

Five minutes later, you’ve been escorted out of the venue, Toji’s hand resting possessively on the small of your back. You wait until you’re alone in the parking lot to whirl on him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, smacking his arm. “You pulled a gun on him?!”

“Relax, doll,” Toji says, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I didn’t even take it out.”

You groan, stomping toward the car. You reach for the passenger door, but before you can open it, his arm shoots out, blocking your path.

“Nah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Yer sittin’ in the back with me.”

“What, am I in trouble now? Gonna spank me?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Toji doesn’t answer. He just opens the back door and shoves you inside, sliding in next to you and shutting the door behind him. You cross your arms, giving him a pointed glare. It doesn’t take long before he’s sulking.

He leans back against the seat, legs spread wide, and huffs like an overgrown child. “Wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.

You snort. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Ain’t funny,” he grumbles, glaring at you.

You can’t resist pushing him just a little further. “If you’re not jealous, then you won’t mind if I go back inside to grab his number. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

His head snaps toward you, his jaw tightening. In one quick motion, he turns, caging you against the seat with his arms. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me,” you say, smirking. “If you’re not jealous, it shouldn’t bother you.”

Toji’s eyes narrow, and the tension in the car shifts again, but this time it isn’t anger. It’s something else entirely. He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Ain’t about bein’ jealous,” he says, his breath warm against your lips. “Ain’t nobody else touchin’ my girl. Don’t care what reason they have.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as his lips ghost along your jawline. His touch is possessive, his grip firm enough to leave no room for argument. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Toji…” you start, but he cuts you off with a low chuckle.

“Nah, you’ve been mouthin’ off thinkin’ yer cute,” he says, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Time to shut that pretty mouth o’ yours.”

He's enjoying himself, towering over you in the confined space of the car, the sunlight streaming in from the windows only highlighting the wolfish grin that spreads across his face.

“You’re so—”

"Hm?" He hums, his hand already snaking down your side, easily slipping under the hem of your dress as he plants a kiss onto the side of your neck. "Y' got somethin' t' say, doll?" 

His fingers dance on your skin, inching closer and closer to the spot he knows will make you weak in the knees. He's toying with you, getting a kick out of your restraint as you try to formulate words again. But before you can finish even a syllable, he cuts you off.

"Save it, sweetheart. Was gonna be nice 'nd all when we got home t’night, but you had to go and run that pretty mouth with yer ex." He growls lowly in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So while yer getting yer brains fucked stupid, I want you t’remember… this is on you.”

With a rough grasp, he flips you onto your stomach in the backseat, your dress riding up your ass as he yanks your panties down with a swift tug, the cool air hitting it and making your hole clench around nothing. His dick is hard and straining against his pants, pre seeping through to form a dark spot. The anticipation of what's to come has your breath hitching, heat pooling between your legs. He leans over you, the weight of his body pressing down onto yours.

He’s rutting against your ass, one hand sliding up to toy with one of your nipples while his other hand massages your hip. God, if you could see the needy little look on your face right now, then he’d finally get you to understand just why he’s so addicted to you. You’re just so gluttonous for him. Always wanting more, more, more. And of course, he’s always willing to give.

But right now isn’t the moment for giving. No, he needs to take. To take and take and take until there’s no more left of you to give to anyone but him. Always him. He backs away just enough for him to unzip his pants, his cock springing free. His hand finds it immediately, stroking himself in slow, teasing motions, hard length throbbing against your bare ass. There's a devilish grin on his face as he utters, "Gonna show ‘er how much she needs me."

Without waiting for a response, he aligns himself with your sobbing cunt, teasing your folds with his thick head just swiping back and forth and mixing his pre into your skick. He groans at the contact, his hand gripping your hip tighter. Suddenly, with a swift thrust, he plunges himself deep, his girth stretching you so mind numbingly good that you fear you may just pass out. The thing is, he’s barely in, but the sensation is already overwhelming, causing you to gasp and buck your hips.

He wishes you knew how fucking good you feel. Wishes you knew that whenever he fucks you, that tight ring of resistance tries so hard to push him out. That is, until he’s fucked his fat tip into you a few times, because then you’re practifally sucking him in. He knows the stretch is a lot. Knows you’re sore hours later without fail and yet, you still beg for more. Just like now.

Words are failing you, but your look is enough. You want more. Need more than just his tip. You wanna be broken in. And so he does. He feeds you inch after inch of him, sitting up and pausing at the halfway point to admire the way your cunt looks swallowing him so eagerly. He grasps at the globes of your ass, jiggling them and biting his lower lip at the God granted sight.

His free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair before he grips tightly and brings your head up so he can press your face into the window. And just light that, he fucks the rest of himself into you roughly, grunting.

"Fuckin’— take it," he rasps out, taking a brief moment to adjust to the feeling of your tightness around him, unable to resist a little moan of his own. Then, he starts moving. Slow and punishing at first, then picking up speed with the same punishing force. Each thrust is precise and purposeful, perfectly hitting that spot inside you that makes you feel fuzzy. He's unabashedly vocal too, grunting and groaning with each delicious slide in and out of your wetness. "Fuck... y' take my cock so good..." he compliments, pushing your face harder into the back window. 

Easing up on his grip on your waist, he rolls his hips, grinding against your ass before pulling out for just a moment to slap his tip against your folds, watching as your cunt twitches and then thrusting back in again. His actions are deliberate and controlled, meant to stir you up and drive you to your limit. 

"Please baby, please, please, please..." you moan helplessly, your words swallowed up by the sounds of your bodies slapping together and his grunts of pleasure. But he merely chuckles darkly, gripping your hip and pressing your face against the window harder as if to anchor himself and punish you at the same time, his thrusts never faltering. 

"Y' can gimme more than that," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down, teeth nibbling at your exposed neck. 

He slows almost to a stop, but the slight shallow thrusts still feel so overwhelmingly good you think you’re gonna go insane. “Y’really think she could live without me? Mmm mm, no, she needs me. I’m the only one who can stuff this greedy little pussy the way she needs to be stuffed. Isn’t that right, baby? Say it f’me.”

“F-fuck! Toki, gonna—” SMACK!

“Not talkin’ to you, princess. Talkin’ to her.” He delivers a pointed thrust into you to emphasize the fact that he’s genuinely talking to your cunt in his pussydrunk state.

Your sure he’s left a permanent handprint because of how hard he spanked your ass. The sting that lingers where his palm landed makes your cunt twitch and ache around him, which he considers to be answer enough. “S’what I fuckin’ thought. Atta fuckin’ girl, yes baby.” He groans, quickening the pace ever so slightly and beginning to pull you back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Talkin to an ex, y’must have wanted to get yerself fucked stupid, hm? Is that what you wanted? To be fucked like this?” He’s talking, but you can tell it isn’t for actual answers, no, it’s more to himself. He’s fucked out. So close to the edge.

The thrusting quickens, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Cum f' me, doll," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, "show me how good I make y' feel. Only me. And then I’m gonna breed yer cute cunt so good." With that, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, aiming for that spot inside you that will unravel you completely.

That’s when you finally let loose, the coil inside your tummy snapping and letting you feel so much pleasure that you’re moving your ass back into him with a force that’s unmatched, just swallowing him deep into you over and over again. And that does it for him— his cum spurting inside you and filling you so good.

He kisses you so hungrily you feel you may just lose your breath entirely and pass out. His hands are holding you in place so you don’t fuck back onto him, because he knows if you did, he’d break you.

Toji leans back, smirking at the sight of you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.

“You done throwing your little tantrum?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

He glares at you, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re real fuckin’ funny, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.” And deciding to drop the bombshell now, you lean back against the seat and say casually, “By the way, he’s married. To a man. They have two kids.”

Toji freezes, his expression shifting from smug to incredulous in seconds. He blinks like a cartoon character in shock, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Yup,” you say, your grin widening. “Your big, scary display of dominance? Totally unnecessary.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. The look on his face is so priceless you wish you could brand it into your memory. “Tch. Coulda fuckin’ said somethin’ sooner.”

“And miss all the fun?” You laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can say anything else, he’s on you again, his hands roaming as he mutters, “Gonna make you pay for makin’ me start a scene.”

You laugh, the sound cutting off into a gasp as his hands find their mark. “I made you start a scene? Oh, this I gotta hear.” You say, your voice breathless but still teasing.

“Keep talkin’, doll,” he says, his grin turning wicked. “See where it gets ya.” And then his lips are finding yours again. Just like that, the argument is forgotten, lost in the haze of his possessive, consuming affection.

༒︎ Choso Kamo ༒︎

The mall is crowded, loud with the hum of chattering voices and echoing footsteps. It isn’t your favorite place to hang out, but your best friend had begged you to come along. Somehow, Choso ended up tagging along too, though you weren’t sure why. He wasn’t exactly the mall type, after all— too quiet, too detached from the bustling energy of human spaces like this.

You glance over your shoulder at him now, and there he is, just like you’d expect. He’s trailing a few steps behind, hands shoved into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. His usual stoic mask is firmly in place, making him seem untouchable to anyone passing by. But you know better than that. Beneath the unapproachable aura, Choso is awkward— painfully shy even. He’s still figuring out how to interact with humans, still trying to understand what it means to live in a world like this.

And for some reason, he’s decided you’re his safe space.

You smile to yourself, turning your attention back to the task at hand. Your friend had told you they’d meet you at the bookstore, but they’re running late, so you decide to wander into one of the nearby shops to kill time.

Choso doesn’t follow. You assume he’s probably going to find a dark corner to tuck himself into. 

What you don’t realize is that he does follow. At a distance. He’s used to watching from the sidelines, content to let you move through your world without interference. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he learns from watching how you interact with people, animals, media, and the likes. He learns about the world, but more importantly, he learns about you.

His eyes are on you now, but just seconds later, they shift. There’s a new focus, a new target. Him.

The guy behind the counter at the little boutique you walked into. He’s tall, clean-cut, and obnoxiously friendly. At first, Choso thinks nothing of it. It’s not like he can stop every stranger from talking to you. But as the guy’s gestures become more animated, and his laughter gets a little too familiar, something shifts in Choso’s chest.

He wishes he could hear whatever it is he’s saying that has you so giddy. Wishes he could just— wait, what?

The guy leans forward across the counter, his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, maybe a receipt, maybe a bag, Choso doesn’t care. Because what he does next is what hammers the nail in the coffin. His hand moves to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair, making you laugh. It’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that makes his stomach churn. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He knows. But he can’t help the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers curl into fists in his sleeves.

You’re still smiling at the guy. You’re laughing. And he hates it.

His mind spirals before he can stop it. The scene plays over and over in his head, each time twisting into something worse. What if you like this guy? What if you’re into someone who can flirt with ease, someone who doesn’t stumble over their words or overthink every little thing?

What if you don’t want him?

Choso feels a sharp pang in his chest, like something fragile has cracked. He’s been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. He thought he could keep them tucked away, safe from rejection, safe from ruining this. But now? Now he feels them slipping through the cracks, raw and unmanageable.

He looks away, leaning back against the wall outside the store. His heart’s racing, though he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he has any claim over you. You’re your own person, free to talk to whoever you want. He’s just… He’s just the weird half-curse with no idea what his place is in this world who follows you around and doesn’t know how to say what he feels. But what if he did say it?

The thought hits him like a lightning bolt, sudden and electrifying. He’s scared, sure— terrified, actually, but the idea of staying silent is worse. He doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, not without at least trying.

So he waits.

When you finally walk out of the shop, you’re holding a small bag, a content smile on your face. You spot him instantly, standing off to the side like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. They had some really cute stuff in there,” you say, holding up the bag as if to explain.

Choso doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to the shop behind you, then back to your face. He doesn’t ask about your purchases. Instead, he asks, “Who was that?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, but there’s something behind it—a tension you can’t quite place.

“Oh, him? That’s just my friend from school. He works here part-time,” you explain, shrugging. “I didn’t even know before now.”

Your words are casual, but they allow Choso a wave of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, replaced almost immediately by a surge of determination. This is his chance. His moment to say what he’s been holding back.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You tilt your head, curious but not concerned. “Of course. What’s up?”

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you away from the bigger crowd and toward a seating area deeper in the mall that’s less populated. Once you’re there, he turns to face you, his hands still buried in his sleeves.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He’s searching for the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, what comes out is raw and unfiltered.

“I thought you liked him,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. “What? No, Choso, I told you, he’s just a friend.”

He nods, but his gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you ask gently.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. “This. Any of this. Being around people. Trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel, how I’m supposed to act.”

You wait, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But with you… it’s different,” he continues, his voice steady despite the nerves etched into his expression. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you. I feel… human.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I like you. I… I think I’ve liked you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know how to say it— didn’t know what it was. B-But I do, now.”

You stare at him, his confession hanging in the air between you. For a moment, he thinks he’s made a mistake. That he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross.

But then you smile.

Not just any smile— the kind of smile that makes him feel like the world isn’t so complicated after all.

It’s all you can do because his confession doesn’t catch you off guard, not really.

You’ve always known.

“Cho,” you say softly, stepping closer, “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “You… knew?”

You nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, you know. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted to give you time. Time to figure out what you wanted, how you felt.”

He’s silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified.

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, your voice warm, “I like you, too. Just as you are. You don’t have to change or be anyone else for me, Choso. I like you for you.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s now a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something more raw. His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, not because you don’t want him to, but because of the way he asks it, so tentative and earnest.

“Of course,” you say, your tone gentle but steady.

But he hesitates, his eyes darting to the small crowd around you. His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Not here. Can we… go somewhere else?”

You bite back a smile at how endearing he looks, his cheeks tinted pink as he avoids your gaze. “Come on,” you say, nodding toward a quieter hallway where the restrooms are tucked away.

He follows you like a shadow, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he keeps his head down. When you reach the single-occupancy restroom, you push the door open and step inside, holding it for him as he follows. The door clicks shut, and the noise of the mall fades into a distant hum.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension in the small space thick enough to cut with a knife. Choso shifts nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… don’t know how start,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your smile soft and steady. “Just follow my lead.”

You step closer, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. He freezes for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, but when you lean in, his lids flutter shut.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips warm and soft against yours. But as you deepen it, something shifts. It’s like a switch flips inside him, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, gripping you like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

He grows bolder with each passing second, his fingers wandering over your arms, your back, your hips, your ass. There’s a desperation in the way he touches you, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all at once. Finally, he pulls you flush against him, his entire arms wrapped around you, one hand gripping your hip and the other on your shoulder.

You can’t help but chuckle against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Easy, Cho,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face flushed as he loosens his grip, but only slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Your smile softens, and you press a light kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to feel nervous.”

You kiss him again, this time letting him lead you. As things heat up, he starts to get carried away again, his hands roaming with a mix of urgency and inexperience. His kisses grow hungrier, his breath ragged as he presses closer, his body practically trembling against yours.

Suddenly his whole body stiffens and a low, unsteady sound akin to a whine escapes him before he pulls back, his face burning with embarrassment. He avoids your gaze, his hands falling away as he stammers, “I— I’m sorry. I dunno what— I didn’t want to stop, I—”

You pull back further to see a dark patch beginning to form even on the purple cloth that rests in front of his robes, realizing what happened. Your perfect Choso just came in his pants from kissing you. You can’t stay silent much longer for fear of making him more embarrassed, so you hush him gently, cupping his face and tilting it so he has no choice but to meet your eyes. “Cho, it’s okay,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new for you, and that’s perfectly fine.”

He swallows hard, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment or disappointment. When he finds none, his shoulders relax just a little.

“You mean that?” he asks softly.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course, I do. We’ll take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his posture easing as he lets out a shaky breath. After a moment, he looks at you again, his expression soft but serious. “Is this… what love is?” He closes his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he leans into your touch. And in that quiet, stolen moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its place.

༒︎ Ryomen Sukuna ༒︎

The room is dimly lit, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. You’re lying back on the exam table, your dress pulled up over your growing belly. The monitor hums softly as the sonographer, a man with overly polite eyes and a soothingly gentle touch, adjusts the machine. He explains the process as he goes, his voice calm and warm, clearly trying to put you at ease.

Today is your first 3D ultrasound where you’ll finally get a better view of the life growing inside you. It feels surreal. You’ve had to wait until you’re 32 weeks along to get the best view, so the wait has made you antsy. Will it look like Sukuna? You? Will it smile or suck its thumb? Surely it’s too early for that, right? All of these questions are running through your mind and making your body vibrate with both nervousness and anticipation. It actually does help that the sonographer noticed and is trying to soothe you. 

You glance to the corner where Sukuna stands, his towering figure leaned protectively against the wall. His crimson eyes are locked on the sonographer, sharp and unyielding, like a predator stalking prey. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, claws tapping rhythmically on his forearm, a faint sound that portrays his growing irritation. The air feels heavy with tension; thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t contribute to your current nervousness.

The sonographer prepares to squirt gel onto your belly, offering you a soft smile. “This might feel a little cold,” he says, his tone careful. “But it’ll help us get a clear image of the baby.”

You flinch slightly at the cold, and the response is immediate.

“Watch your hands.” Sukuna’s voice slices through the room, low and menacing.

The sonographer freezes, visibly startled. His gaze darts nervously to Sukuna. “I- I’m just preparing her to perform the scan, sir. There’s no need to worry.”

Sukuna scoffs, the sound dark and mocking. “Worry? I’m not worried, human. I’m warning you.” His crimson eyes narrow, radiating danger. “You’re touching my wife who’s carrying the heir to my throne. Be mindful.”

You press your palm to your forehead, exhaling sharply. “Ryo,” you say, your tone firm. “He’s doing his job. Stop scaring him.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly, but the fire in them doesn’t fully die. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The sonographer hesitates, visibly uneasy, before resuming his work. The wand glides gently over your belly, and the monitor flickers to life. He points out the baby’s heartbeat, their tiny limbs, and the way they seem to kick at nothing in particular. His voice is soothing as he explains, almost too soothing for Sukuna’s liking.

You can see that the baby has four limbs, thankfully, and it’s got a frown on it’s face, much like its father’s. Until you speak, that is. When you speak, you can see the soft smile that graces your sweet baby’s face, again much like its father’s. You feel tears prick at your eyes finally seeing your baby so clearly.

The sonographer glances at you again, his smile almost reverent. “You’re doing wonderfully. Your baby looks perfect— beautiful, actually.”

That does it.

“Beautiful, huh?” Sukuna mutters, his voice laced with venom. “Bet you say that to every woman you see. Must be part of your script. You’re just so reassuring. Well, my wife doesn’t need that. She has me. Do you think yourself better than I?”

“Ryomen.” Your voice sharpens, and you shoot him a glare that tells him you’re angry. “Enough.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips curling in mild defiance, but he backs off for now. The sonographer continues, though his hands move a little faster this time, clearly eager to finish. Sukuna’s eyes remain locked on him, every small movement scrutinized like a hawk circling its prey.

Finally, the scan concludes. The sonographer hands you a towel to clean off the gel, offering another polite smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sukuna doesn’t give him the chance.

“You’re done, right? Get out.”

The man’s eyes widen; he looks to you as if hoping for an intervention. You manage a tight smile. “Thank you for your help. Forgive my unpleasant husband,” you say pointedly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Sukuna stands there, still bristling, his claws twitching at his sides.

You sigh, wiping the last of the gel from your belly. “You’re ridiculous, Kuna. He wasn’t touching me in any sort of suspicious way.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you in the first place,” Sukuna snaps, taking a step closer.

“He’s a medical professional, Ryomen. It’s his job.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “He was too close; too soft. Like he thought he could make you feel safer than I do.”

You sit up, tugging your dress down over your belly. “No one is trying to take your place.”

He scoffs, pacing in front of you like a restless beast. “You’re mine. No one else gets to put their hands on you like that.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders as you step into his path. “Would you rather our child go unchecked and we miss something bad? You can’t scare every single person who helps me, Ryomen.”

His eyes narrow, the frustration in them simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re too soft,” he mutters. “Always making excuses for people who don’t deserve it.”

“Soft doesn’t mean weak,” you counter, standing firm. “And I don’t need you turning every little thing into a fight. Trust me, Ryomen. I’m not going anywhere. But… you’re wrong, you know. I do need comfort. You provide safety, yes, but never reassurance. Gentleness. Maybe just… passive acceptance. I’m carrying your child. Of course I’d like to be doted on and treated with care.”

Before he can get upset again, you add, “By you. Only you. So just— please stop it with the anger and hostility. I want my child to know their father is capable of love the way I know he is.”

The tension in his shoulders loosens slightly, though the possessiveness in his gaze remains. He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming to rest on your belly. His touch is firm but deliberate, a reminder of who you belong to.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You. The baby. You’re my dearest prizes. No one else gets to act like they know how to care for you better than I do. I study everything, every minute detail about you and what’s to expect with the child. I suppose I’ve been so wound up with preparing myself and protecting you that I’ve gotten more hostile than usual. I… can work on it.”

You place your hand over his, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Get back on the exam bed.”

“What? Why? He’s finish—” he interrupts you by walking you backwards until your ass hits the edge, caging you in.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my heir and standing up to even me. And I’d like to show you just how much I love it.” He says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck, just below your jawline. As expected, you tilt your head up for a kiss and he indulges you, kissing you so hungrily and lifting you onto the bed.

His hands wander all over your body, his touch carrying a gentleness you’re not used to. Goosebumps raise on the whole of your body in response and you’re leaning forward into the kiss, losing yourself in it. You don’t even realize he’s hiked your dress up and removed your panties until the cold hits your slick-sheened pussy.

“Ryō—”

“I know, brat, I know.” He says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he parts from your lips to kiss along your jaw. “Come to the edge f’me.”

You do exactly that as he undoes his robes to reveal his second set of arms… and his second mouth. God, you love how freaky this man is. His second set of arms grip the globes of your ass to hold you steady as he pulls you flush against his lower mouth, his fat tongue just smearing your cunt with your slick and his saliva. 

You’ve never cared to admit that this mouth of his has always been your favorite. It’s so big that it offers more coverage, more pressure, and gets so much dee—

“Biiiiig stretch.” Sukuna warns you before he plunges his second tongue into your hole, lingering at that first ring of resistance to deliver a few shallow, but mind numbingly pleasurable thrusts before he pushes the rest of the way in; as much as he can, that is.

He uses the moment your pretty little mouth releases an ah! to kiss you again, his first set of hands slipping up your dress to find your tits. If there’s anything he’d put on top of the list of things he loves about your changing body, it’s this. How fucking thick your ass has become and undeniably huge your tits have grown. Just swelling and preparing to fill with milk to sustain his heir.

He pinches your sensitive nipples between his large fingers, making you moan into the kiss, relaxing your cunt around his tongue between you. Suddenly, you’re lifted just slightly above the table, his other hands beginning to fuck you on his tongue, his saliva and your slick just drip, drip, dripping onto the bed and floor beneath you.

“So greedy. Pussy’s always so fucking greedy…” he groans, resting his forehead against yours so you both can watch as your pussy bulges from swallowing his tongue so eagerly. It’s such a lewd sight, one you’ve undeniably grown addicted to in your time together.

Your moans mingle together and it’s then you realize that he’s now using just one of his hands to fuck you on his tongue. His other is wrapped around both of his cocks and pumping them together, ribbons of pre falling down his lengths and being smeared by his movements. You’re not even slightly ashamed of the way you salivate seeing him getting off while eating your pussy and watching himself do it. It’s so fucking filthy that you can’t help but—

“Gonna cum f’me, aren’t you? Mmmmmhm, can tell by how she’s flutterin’ around my tongue. My needy fucking wife.” He smirks, pulling you flush to him so that the widest part of his tongue rubs against your clit while he switches it up and fucks his tongue into you, faster this time.

“O-Ohmyfuckinggod!” The words come out strung together, the added attention on your clit making you see stars, your breath quickening, heart beginning to race. You lean back onto the bed using your hands to prop you up so you can get a better view.

“So nasty, beautiful.” A chuckle falls from his lips and you can’t even respond before his upper hands are just engulfing your tits and kneading, easing the pain of the swelling and pleasing you at the same time.

Then, something happens. Milk begins to drip from your right nipple and it has you both stopping in your tracks. You’d heard of the low possibility that milk can come before you give birth, but you never considered it’d happen to you. A blush of embarrassment creeps on your face and you’re about to apologize when you hear Sukuna groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth immediately latches onto your tit and he just sucks.

“S-Sukuna, fuck!” You whine, his lower tongue beginning to work your quivering pussy again, bringing you right to the edge of pleasure.

He releases your tit with a pop! and nips it gently. “Mine. Mine, mine, all fuckin’ mine, such a good Queen providing for my heir early. Gonna be such a good momma.” He praises you before beginning to suck the lactating nipple again, making you come undone on his tongue, your gooey insides clenching around his tongue, trying to stop him with how tight you are, but he’s too strong, fucking his tongue into you through your orgasm to swallow up every last bit of cum you have to offer him.

It’s not until you’re whining and your legs are limp, weak pushes against his shoulders making him release your tit and slip his tongue from your slobbering hole. He runs the tip of his tongue against your oversensitive clit just a few times before you feel him kiss your puffy folds, making your body lurch.

You watch breathlessly as he tries to suck up the milk from your poor abused nipple again, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging his face up to yours. “Y’know, you’re mine too. Forever. Don’t you forget that.” You smirk.

Something flickers in his eyes— pride, possessiveness, and a touch of vulnerability he’d never admit to. “Damn right I’m yours,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But don’t think that means I’m gonna get soft on people.”

You lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek, a small smile playing at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. His voice drops to a rumble. “Carrying my child. Still standing by me. So brave.”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” you tease, though your voice softens with affection.

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you’re brave enough to take my cocks after cumming like such a good brat f’me.” 

Your eyes widen, feeble hands trying to push him away by his chest, “Kuna! We have to leave, they’re probably traumatized!” You tell him in a hushed tone, suddenly all too aware that you’re in a doctor’s office for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, well. They can afford the therapy.” He gives you a shit eating grin while thumbing open your cunt. “Open up real wide f’me, baby.”

And as you brace yourself, you remind yourself to make apology rounds to the staff whenever your husband is through with you.

༒︎ Nanami Kento ༒︎

Nanami Kento is tired. Not just the kind of tired you feel after a long day, though God knows his body aches from another grueling shift of paperwork and exorcisms. No, it’s deeper than that. A bone-deep fatigue that comes from too many hours spent away from the one person he’d rather be with. You.

He steps through the door, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. The house is warm and smells faintly like the lavender candle you always light in the evenings. It feels like home, but he quickly notices something’s off.

Your voice carries down the hall, light and warm, tinged with laughter. It’s a sound that usually has his shoulders relaxing, but tonight, there’s an edge of tension beneath it that prickles at him. He sets his things down quietly, toeing off his shoes, and listens.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of lonely lately,” you say, and he freezes in place, his hand hovering above the coat rack. “I mean, I get it. Nanamin works so hard and I love him for it, but… I don’t know. I just miss him. I feel like I barely see him anymore.”

His chest tightens. You’re talking about him. He takes a slow, measured breath and steps closer, rounding the corner silently.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, though. Honestly, if I didn’t have someone to talk to, I’d probably be climbing the walls by now.” There’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line. Gojo’s laugh. The realization is instant and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gojo. Of course, it’s Gojo. His coworker, the occasional thorn in the side, the most insufferable man he knows. And apparently the one you’ve been leaning on while he’s been too busy drowning in work.

Kento feels his jaw tighten, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He knows— logically, rationally— that there’s nothing going on between you and Gojo. You’d never betray him like that and Gojo, for all his teasing, would never cross that line. But the knot of jealousy twisting in his chest doesn’t care about logic.

You must have heard him shift uncomfortably because you glance over your shoulder, startled. Your expression softens when you see him and you give him a small, almost sheepish smile. “Hey, Kento just got home,” you say into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Nanami doesn’t miss the way Gojo’s laugh sounds out one last time before you hang up. He doesn’t say anything as you set your phone on the counter, but his silence is heavy. You know him well enough to recognize it immediately.

“Ken,” you say softly, stepping toward him. “Long day?”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze steady on you. It’s not cold, but there’s something simmering behind it; something that makes you hesitate. “Gojo?” he asks finally, his voice calm but with an edge you can’t ignore.

You blink, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Yeah. He was just checking in. He knows I’ve been home alone a lot lately.”

“Does he?” His tone is even, but the sharpness is undeniable.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Nanami, it’s not like that. He’s a friend. Our friend. You know that.”

“I do.” And he does. He knows it’s innocent. But that doesn’t make it easier to hear you laughing and confiding in someone else while he’s been too busy to do the same.

“Ken.” Your voice softens and you reach for him, your hand brushing his arm. “Please don’t do this. Don’t beat yourself up or think anything crazy. I’m not mad at you for working so much. I know why you do it. I know it’s for us. But… it’s hard sometimes. That’s all I meant.”

“I hate that you feel like this,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That you have to go to someone else when I should be here.”

You step closer, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You’re here now,” you murmur, trying to pull him out of his head. “That’s what matters. That you always come back to me as soon as you can.”

He looks at you, something dark and conflicted in his eyes. “Is it enough?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Am I enough? Or would you rather have a husband who has more time for you?”

Your heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice. “Kenny,” you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly and his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Desperate. As if he’s trying to make up for all the time he’s spent away from you in one moment.

You gasp against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to the globes of your ass and gripping tightly. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll change for you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “No more late nights. No more overtime. I’ll cut my hours. Whatever it takes to be here with you.”

“Ken, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” His hands slide under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor. “I won’t let you feel like you’re second to anything. Ever again. You’re too precious to me. My world. My heart. My wife.”

His lips find your neck, trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone. He moves with a purpose, his hands exploring your skin as if to reacquaint himself with every inch of you. It’s more than physical— it’s a promise.

You tug at his tie, fumbling with the knot until he helps you pull it free and rips off his button-down. Then his hands are on you again, guiding you toward the bedroom.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding but with an undercurrent of tenderness that makes your pulse race.

You obey, sinking onto the bed as he leans over you, his lips finding yours again. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his movements careful but insistent. Every kiss, every caress feels like an apology and a vow wrapped into one.

He wraps a hang around your throat, squeezing for one fleeting moment before trailing it down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, over your pubic bone, and finally under your nightgown to meet your slick riddled cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours while he catches his breath, his fingers slipping back and forth between your folds, teasing at your clit in passes. “My love… I don’t want to waste any time, I just need t’feel you. Normally I’d ea—”

“I know, handsome, s’okay, I’m ready, I can take it.” You reassure him, knowing he was going to apologize for not properly warming you up.

You see, Nanami has always been one for foreplay. He could slurp up your saccharine slick for hours upon hours if you let him, but tonight? Tonight, he just wants to be one with you.

His hand finds one of yours and he intertwines your fingers, his other hand working to free his cock from the suffocating confines of his pants. When it springs free, it’s just throbbing an angry pink, beads of pre forming at the tip now that his dress pants aren't there to absorb them.

He aligns himself with your painfully empty hole, pushing past that first little ring of resistance with a long groan. The grip he has on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he feeds you inch after mind numbing inch of his cock until his tip’s kissing your cervix. But you know his body well enough to know that isn’t it. And so you brace yourself for him to push in to the hilt, his mushroom tip ever so slightly bullying open your cervix as he does so, making you yelp out in both pleasure and pain.

His lips swallow your whines and whimpers, he’s determined to take everything you have to offer and give you more than what he has. The world, if you asked. His free hand finds purchase on your hip and he holds you steady as he starts to roll his hips into yours, passionately. Roughly. Like he’s trying to stuff you full of all of the love he has for you.

You moan out, reaching your own free hand up to cup his cheek, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, effectively telling him you need more. With every thrust after, you can’t help but gasp. You feel him in your lungs stealing every bit of breath you have, reddened leaking tip repeatedly hitting that bullseye that makes your mind go stupid.

“K-Ken, feels s’good! Hah!” You whine out, back arching up and pressing you flush to him. He moves his hand from your hip to wrap his arm around you, effectively holding your bottom half in the air to get deeper inside of you.

“Mine. My wife. My wife, my love, my beautiful, m-my heart.” He’s babbling, burying his head into your neck and pressing hot, wet, open mouthed kisses to it. You feel him slip his hand from yours and instead, he has the top of your head in the palm of his hand, using it to keep you still, but also to anchor himself so he doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mom. Wh—hah, what kind of husband have I been by not trying to give you my babies? We can start now. After I cum riiiiight here.” He babbles, his other hand moving for only a second to press down where your stomach bulges with his thrusts.

And the look in his eyes tells you this is a promise, not just something he’s saying while fucking you. Just like the perfect little thing you are, you cum for him right then, dragging a long and frustrated groan from him.

“Pussy’s always so good for me. Milking me so good, my love…” he shudders as you cum on his throbbing length.

“Ken, f—fuh— fuck! Cum in me! Please, baby, cum in me!” You beg, making him chuckle.

“Oh? You think I’m done? No, I have to make up for lost time. Evert second I missed, I’ll make up for with an equal amount of time spent buried in this beautiful cunt of yours. Understood?”

And oh are you so incredibly fucked.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Part 2! A little shorter, but felt inspired to continue a little further!

___________________________________________

“This story is awful.”

Iris sipped her coffee, making a face at the overly sweet taste, flipping through the script in her hand. “This character makes no sense!”

Allison, Iris’s assistant, raised an eyebrow. “What a shock, you have a complaint about a script’s writing. So are you turning down this project as well? That would be the fifth in a row that we’ve turned down. People are starting to start rumors that you’re retiring.”

“I’m not saying no… not just yet. But this character…” Iris sighed. “I just don’t get it. She is a princess. The real princess… But she got replaced, and when she returns, somehow everyone favors the fake princess instead. Why didn’t she just stay firm to the truth? She was the one with the right to be there. Instead, she cowered away and attacked her replacement from the shadows.”

Allison took the script from her hands, looking at the scene that was underlined. “So, this girl grew up in the slums, and got brought back right? She feels out of place. And even worse, she has no confidence in her family. They have years of memories with someone else. That replacement… she can be gracious and calm. She’s been spoiled and loved by the royal family for years. And the favored are the confident. There is no one more timid than someone who is hoping to be loved.”

“Wants to be loved, huh… “ Iris murmured, thinking it over. “Why did they ask me to play this part?”

She was not speaking out of false confidence. She was a A list star. To be offered a side character part was not a typical event.

“Apparently the script writer insisted it had to be you.” Allison shrugged with a laugh. “He said you were born to play this part.”

“Is that so? Hmm… I’d like to meet him.”

“I’ll ask, but apparently he’s a hard person to meet.”

Iris took back the script, studying it once more. “Try. I want to meet the man who wrote this poor girl…and her terrible end.”

___________________________________________

“Wake up!”

A rude voice startled Iris awake, almost causing her to fall out of bed. Catching her balance, she sighed, trying to wake up. For a brief moment she wasn’t sure where she was. Iris rubbed her eyes, looking around, recognizing her surroundings as the rooms in the castle.

Back to my life as the replaced princess.  Her dreams of the other world were so detailed, so real, that Iris often found herself confused as to what was reality and what was the dream. It didn’t help that the time and events in her dreams often happened out of order, confusing her all the more when she woke up.

The dream me never did get to meet the script writer. She thought tiredly. I wish I had. It might have provided some answers.

Before she could focus on that too long, the voice spoke up once more.

“Are you getting up, Princess?” The tone was sarcastic, breaking Iris from her reverie. Looking over, Iris spotted the source: An angry looking maid, a blond woman in her young twenties, a scowl distorting her otherwise unremarkable features.

“I’m still considering it.” Iris muttered.

“Some of us don’t have time to waste, Your Highness. Breakfast started a half hour ago.” She smirked at the statement, as if Iris being late was amusing.

Ah. I’m being bullied. Smiling to herself, Iris sat up, making prolonged eye contact with the maid.

“Name?”

“Elise.” The woman gave an arrogant look. “I’m the lead maid of the living quarters.”

“Wow. I’m sure your parents are very proud.”

Elise gave her a strange look. “They are.”

“I see…” Iris smiled broadly and tapped her cheek. “Imagine how excited they will be to hear you’ve been imprisoned for disrespecting royalty! Maybe they can come visit you on your birthdays?”

A confused silence fell over the room. Finally, realization dawned on her face, and she protested loudly. “You WOULDN’T DARE! I’m the princess’ favorite maid!”

Iris stood up, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.  Step by step she moved closer. A polite smile remained in place, but her eyes were cold and unsettling.

In her dreams, she was an actress. And not just any actress, one with a very specific reputation:

A woman known for her business acumen and ruthlessness in negotiation. No one ever expected to come out on top when talking contracts, but her acting prowess kept them coming back for the abuse. It was a well-known fact in her dreams:

Anyone who crossed her would regret it.

The maid Elise began to cower as Iris moved within arm’s reach. She technically was taller than then the undernourished princess, but for some reason, she felt small in the face of the aura of power and control that radiated from the young woman in front of her. Her sense of danger heightened, until she panicked, breaking out in apologies.

“I- I’m sorry. I'm sorry!”

Iris’ smile widened. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for disrespecting you… Your Highness.”

“You aren’t sorry… not yet anyways.” She leaned forward, whispering a few words quietly in the maid’s ear. The woman turned pale, shaking with fear and shock, stammering non-stop apologies. Finally, Iris raised a hand, bringing her words to a halt.

“I’ll dress myself, Elise. Why don’t you let my father, brothers… and my lovely adopted sister… that I will be down to breakfast shortly.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Elise curtseyed, cold sweat dripping down her back. Quickly she turned and headed to the door, only stopping when Iris called out again.

“What will you say if my family asks why I am late?”

Their eyes met again, similar to when she had woken up, but with a completely different atmosphere.

Finally, the maid looked away first and broke the silence. “I will tell them it was due to my error, Your Highness.”

“Good girl.” Iris waved her hand dismissively. “Head along now.”

As if released by a slingshot, Elise ran out, nearly falling to the ground in her hurry to get away. Iris chuckled, putting aside the dress that was laid out for her and searching her wardrobe. The dress selected was clearly a ballgown, something overly fancy and completely unsuited for a breakfast, even a royal one. Wearing that would have made her seem awkward and out of place, a country bumpkin who coveted beautiful and shiny things.

After searching for a while, she found a simpler light blue gown with minimal trim and flared sleeves, clearly a more casual daytime dress. It was difficult to put on by herself, but fortunately, she had a lot of practice getting quickly in and out of intricate clothing…

In her dreams at least.

___________________________________________

Once she was fully dressed, she headed downstairs.

Again, she found herself surrounded by luxury. Intricate fixtures, beautiful paintings, even the door handles looked expensive. Iris sighed quietly, realizing that without her advantage she would have very much felt out of her depth.

I do miss modern amenities though. Even the most expensive toilet in a fantasy world like this can’t match a good reliable modern one.

Iris walked towards the dining room, remembering the path she took yesterday. As she passed by, she heard the servants in the corners whispering. Her hearing was excellent, she only picked up a few pieces, but she was able to understand what the sentiment was.”

“Who is…?”

“Came from… slums.”

‘Really? Doesn’t look…”

“Looks like the Queen.”

At the last sentence Iris turned for a moment, glancing at an enormous portrait of a young woman that was displayed in the sitting room adjacent to her destination. She looked a lot like Iris herself. She had similar red hair and gold rimmed irises in a delicate face. Iris stared silently for a few moments, a small pain in her heart for the woman who gave birth to her, but who she had never met.

I wonder how she would feel about this switch? Would she be excited to see me? Or more worried about how my arrival could hurt her raised daughter instead?

Not wanting to dwell on those depressing thoughts too long, she entered the dining room.

“You’re late.” Her father’s grim voice greeted her arrival. He radiated disapproval, with an intimidating atmosphere… to most people at least.

“Good morning!” Iris smiled at her father, unbothered. She sat down at the empty place setting, her posture upright and confident. “I apologize for my tardiness.” She locked eyes with her maid, Elise, who face paled. She stepped forward with a deep gesture.

“I’m so sorry, I woke up the princess late this morning!”

Anthony frowned. “Is this how you serve your new mistress?” The maid shook her head in response, looking even more distraught. The tense atmosphere thickened, before being shattered by a new speaker.

“Elise has always been my maid before this and served me perfectly! It must be some sort of misunderstanding.” Theodora frowned, before looking uneasily at Iris. “Maybe my sister is… just not used to being around servants?”

They were pretty words, and Iris had to appreciate the barbs hidden within them. Especially nice was the subtle implication that it was Iris who had behaved inappropriately.

Iris laughed quietly. “I fail to understand how me not being used to servants would cause the maid to not attempt to wake me up until 30 minutes after breakfast had started.” She paused, looking over the rich clothes of the other girl carefully. “A more likely answer is that she does not view me as a true princess… and why would that be?”

Theodora looked shocked, and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s my fault! If we hadn’t been switched…”

“How dare you blame Theodora!” Dominic slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the plates and cutlery. “She is an innocent…”

“She is an innocent victim, brother, I know.” Iris faced him calmly. “I’m very confused about why Theodora is taking this to heart. It’s not like she as a baby could have engineered the switch… although the person who switched us may have been her relative… who wanted their child to live a life of royalty while the real princess suffered or died…But obviously that is not her fault! So, please don’t blame yourself… Sister.”

A long silence fell over the room as the three men processed her words. Iris wanted to roll her eyes but kept her expression blank. Did they really never consider that it could be someone related to her who did the switch? Do they think they just grabbed a random baby somewhere? She turned her attention to the food. It was multiple tiny plates of intricate food, all things she had never eaten before… while awake. There was multiple odd appearing cutlery, and for a moment, she felt a slight panic deep within her.

 I don’t belong here.

She banished the thought immediately. She was the real princess. Where did she belong, if not here? Drawing on her dream knowledge, she started on the outside, and worked her way carefully through the food. She progressed quietly and smoothly, only glancing up once she felt less hungry… Only to see a hate filled glare on Theodora’s face.

Shocked, Iris glanced down, and when she looked back the look was gone, so quickly that she wondered if she imagined it. But it was real, she knew it deep down. Was it what I said? She glanced down at her hands and smiled. Or the fact that despite them preparing an overly complicated breakfast, I‘ve had no issues? One of the scenes she had acted out in had involved the real princess being humiliated during a meal with her poor table manners. Another improvement in her favor.

One at a time, Iris. Just one small change at a time.

___________________________________________

After breakfast Iris excused herself quickly, not wanting to stay in the tense environment of her smiling “sister” and her father and older brother who were so quick to defend her. Anthony followed her closely, and she found herself smiling up at him. He was the most different from the story she knew. He seemed to care, at least.

“Did you have a good night’s sleep?” He asked as they turned towards the gardens.

Filled with dreams of another world. “Well enough.” She paused. “If not longer than hoped for.”

Anthony winced. “I talk with the head servants. There should be no confusion in how you are to be treated.”

“Don’t waste breath on useless explanations. Words mean little against action. And unfortunately, there’s already confusion, brother. It’s coming from the King and Crown Prince.” She smiled calmly, as if the words didn’t mean anything to her. “Why should the servants see me as something their king doesn’t.”

“Iris… he…”

“Doesn’t look at me like a father who regained his daughter. More like a possible enemy who could threaten his family.” In a way, he’s correct. If he views Theodora as his family, my arrival does make her situation and status complicated.

“…”

Anthony didn’t seem to know how to respond. Ignoring his silent dismay, Iris let out a small cry of delight, swooping down to gently touch a few flowers along the path. The fragile purple petals felt like satin under her fingers. She cupped a few, smiling brightly.

“They are so lovely.” In her joy she accidentally released a small amount of power, leading to the small buds around to bloom beautifully in a few seconds. The rest of the flowers seemed to lean towards her, as if she was their personal sun. In moments a few bright colors became an overwhelming blush of purple, pinks and green.

“Iris?” Anthony spoke up uncertainly.

“Yes, these here are Irises! So lovely and brave of them to bloom so nicely despite the cold.” The castle gardens were much more temperate than the outer city, likely the result of the royal magicians, but it was still not warm enough yet for the flowers to bloom fully. She regretted the accidental release of power, which had attracted them to open up too soon. They would not last long. Silently she stretched out her hands and fed them more power, which would let them last until the weather warmed up some.

“No… Iris… do you have magic?”

She froze at her brother’s question. “… Would it mean much if I said ‘no’?”

“Not much, no.” Anthony laughed. “How long have you had magic? It’s amazing, really… most royalty need guidance to discover it, and usually don’t until adulthood!”

“…”   A long silence fell between them. The smile slowly faded from Anthony’s face, to be replaced by a look of uncertainty.

Iris stared at the flowers, her face cold. “I suppose many royalty haven’t faced starvation.” She stood up, brushing her hands off, the movements stiff. “The old woman who took me in died shortly after I turned ten. She had run a small shop, but after she was gone, some men came and grabbed it. I was too small to hold onto anything valuable… They tried to grab me too. I would have sold for some gold, after all.”

“Iris…”

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think of the horrible night, but unable to stop. Her heart started beating faster with remembered fear. “I stabbed one of their men in the thigh when he tried to grab me. Almost castrated the bastard. Scared them enough for me to get away. But I was too young. I was desperate, alone with no skills to survive. It was spring, and I discovered I had a knack for selling flowers.”

 I started having the dreams that night, and good thing too. “When it got cold, I couldn’t find enough flowers to sell… until I awakened my power.”

She was lost in her memories, when suddenly she was crushed by an overwhelming hug. Her fight or flight response activated and she tried to swing her arms, only to freeze at the sound of her brother’s tearful voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Iris. You never should have gotten lost, never should have suffered. I should have found you earlier.”

Iris reached out uncertainly, and patted his back. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. And either way, I’m here, right?”

Anthony’s voice was muffled, his taller frame hanging down as he buried his head on her shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I need to. Trust me.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.” Thinking of the ending of her story, Iris added. “You’ve got some time, anyways, until I get married off somewhere.”

“Who is marrying you off!” Anthony raised his head, his eyes angry. “That’s too risky, what if he doesn’t treat you well?! You’ve already suffered so much…. No! Better to marry you close… preferably to someone scared of royalty so you can run home if he makes you angry.”

Hearing his description of his ideal for her husband, Iris couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Okay, brother. I’ll marry someone close by who you can bully, so I’ll never suffer again.”

“You’re making fun of me.” Anthony accused her.

“Yes.”

They both laughed at that, Anthony reached out and rubbed her head affectionately, messing up her hair. As Iris frowned and tried to fix it, he shook his head. “Well we’ve got plenty of time. It’s not like there’s a long list of candidates worthy of marrying a princess…”

“Your Highnesses!” A robed young man entered the garden. “What a coincidence!”

Iris recognized him quickly. “Mage Vicente” She smiled in greeting.

“You look much better rested.” He commented in return.

Anthony looked a bit uneasy, stepping in between the two of them. “What brings you here?”

“I sensed some unusual magic in the garden, so I came to investigate.”

“Well, nothing unusual is happening here, so you should probably keep looking.”

Mage Vicente looked at them both, and gave an amused smile. “Of course. Sorry to disturb you.” He made brief eye contact with Iris again, who felt a distinct familiarity in his gaze. But where would I know him from?

Anthony kept his protective posture, not relaxing until the mage had excused himself and walked away. “Don’t tell anyone of your powers just yet, Iris.”

“Why not?” She hadn’t really planned to. In the story she knew, her father had used her for her powers before abandoning her. She hadn’t meant to display them here, but she supposed she had felt comfortable and safe around Anthony. She was curious as to why he thought she shouldn’t, though.

“We don’t know who meant you harm eighteen years ago. What if they are still around, and mean to finish the job?” He shook his head. “I know father and Dominic don’t want to investigate the switch, as it could lead to public speculation about Theodora, but…” he paused. “I can’t let whoever hurt you try again. I'm looking into it, Iris. I'll find out who did this, and I will protect you in the future.”

“I…” Iris choked on her words, feeling tears fill her eyes. She had been mentally prepared to be alone on this battlefield. To fight an unknown enemy with no one, not even her family on her side. But things were different than she expected. She had an ally, a friend.

A brother.

Unable to articulate her thoughts, she settled for simply hugging him again. He seemed happy with that though, rubbing her head and messing up her hair once more.

“Let’s head back.”

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[trickbxbes]

Hey girl!

Love your work, especially the Dae-ho stuff and I’m so glad I found your page!!!!

If I can, can I request more smut… WHO SAID THAT

I don’t know if you need an idea, maybe if you do what I’d Dae-ho and fem reader are in an established relationship and they haven’t had sex in a WHILE, you got it from there ;)

-🦑

Omg I’m so sorry I didn’t see this but yes >:)

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 (18+)

[𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

Summary: You and Dae-Ho have been extraordinarily busy trying to stay afloat from all the debt. It led to long days, and shorter nights. Both of you spending less and less time with each other. But one argument actually helps release some long built tension :)

Warnings: Smut, Minor arguing, angry turned passionate sex, kitchen fucking, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex,

Word Count: 1,703

Your shoulders slack as you finally get home, holding your purse close to you as a reminder to stay awake. It was a long night at work. Your eyes stung from the dryness. You fumble for the keys to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Dae-Ho. Debt had been weighing heavily on both your shoulders and his. Many times did you come home to your lover already asleep, and many times did you wake up to an empty bed.

Entering your home, you’re surprised to see the living room light still on. Dae-Ho was sitting at the dining table, back hunched slightly over his laptop. He turns to see you arrive, squinting his eyes and then rubbing them.

“Hi, honey. Wow, is it that late already?”

He checks the clock on the screen. You nod, rubbing your head. A migraine had creeped its way to the left side of your skull. You flick on the kitchen light to get yourself some water. But you’re greeted by a ghastly sight, dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. The chronic stress you were under turned your minor irritation into full frustration.

“Dae-Ho, I thought I told you to clean that…!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Dae-Ho leans back in his chair, getting scolded making it harder for him to not get defensive.

“‘m sorry, I thought I did it already. I have a lot of stuff to do too, you know.”

His tone made him come off a little more self justifying than he intended, which further amplified your annoyance. You hum, looking to the ground.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.” You mutter sarcastically. Dae-Ho’s eyebrows furrow as you go and grab a glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up a bit straighter. “It means I’m not the one in 250 mil debt, Dae-Ho!” You knew you’d regret being so harsh but right now you couldn’t care less. A dry chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t act so innocent. You’re in mil debt territory too!”

“I just wanna come home to a clean house!”

“You want me to do it so bad? Fine!”

Dae-Ho gets up from his seat and storms to the sink. “Y’know more than half of these are yours, though.” He’d say quietly, wanting an end to the conflict but also wanting to get that point across. You grip at your hair, your teeth grit. “Why are you making this so difficult? You think I like coming home super late and being so tired I can’t do anything but crawl in bed? I miss you!” You raise your voice, but lowering your volume mid shout. As angry as you were, you didn’t forget your boyfriend’s discomfort with shouting and aggression.

He’s about to turn on the sink, still heated. “I miss you too—!” Until he saw you pulling your hair, making him instinctively grab your wrist. “Stop that-!”

You jerk, trying to release yourself. “I wouldn’t be this pissed off if you had just did what you said!” Your struggling made you step back, now feeling the cold kitchen counter on your back.

“You think I like going to bed alone too? Barely being able to see you, huh?!”

His breath is hot on your face, the close proximity being mere inches. You find yourself staring up at him. Being pinned to the counter, his rough grip on your wrist, it made a certain heat rise in your stomach. You both don’t say anything for a few minutes, just glaring at each other. Until you use your free hand to grab the side of his neck and pull him in for a searing kiss.

Dae-Ho makes a surprised sound before reciprocating, groaning against your lips. He lets go of your wrist, instead choosing to grab your hips and pull you closer to his body. He presses you further against the counter, making you moan lightly as you had your hands tangled in his hair.

You lift a leg up, giving Dae-Ho a chance to grab your under thigh and lift your leg higher. You feel his bulge against your wet core, he was already getting hard. Had it really been that long since you two have done it?

You hook your leg around his waist, grinding against his body. A deep rumble leaves Dae-Ho’s throat, he pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. “Fuck…” He pants for air. Disappointment and anxiety creeped up faster than you could’ve imagined. This was the first time you two were this passionate in awhile. You couldn’t let him pull away now.

You grab the cuff of his shirt and yank him back toward you. Oh that shirt, you always hated it. The design reminded you of some clown graffiti you’d see in a sketchy part of town. You’d rather see your boyfriend without it on.

As you kiss him again, you slide your hands up underneath his shirt. His skin was hot, his hips stuttered as you ran your fingers over his abs. Dae-Ho shuddered a little. But he leaned closer, his tongue dancing along with yours. He’d attempt to speak to you in between your hot temperature kisses.

“Wait—is this… okay?”

You cup his cheeks and look him in the eyes, you could see you both were much less angry. But the passion brewing was one you couldn’t let simmer. You needed that shit to over boil.

“Dae-Ho. Fuck me. Now.”

Dae-Ho did not have to be told twice as he dived back into your lips. The passionate exchange only broken for a moment as you made him take that ghastly shirt off. His hand slowly slid down your pants as your hands slid around his neck. Dae-Ho groans in your mouth as his hand feels your soaking folds. You whimper in pleasure, trying to somehow get closer to him. He starts to rub your clit in smooth slow circles. You whine out, Dae-Ho letting your sounds fill the room so he could hear you clearly. His mouth was slightly open, as if mimicking the shape your mouth was making.

He slips in a finger, curling it and making you bite your lip. Dae-Ho thumbs the bottom of your lip. He leans in close.

“Don’t. I wanna hear you.”

His tongue swirls around yours before his lips connect for a quick peck. He inserts another finger, now drawing out all your sounds. He plunged them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. You still had both your hands on the back of his neck.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck… Dae-Ho…!” You couldn’t take it, you needed more. You took off your shirt, and aggressively pulled down your bottoms. You’re left in just your bra and underwear for him. His fingers didn’t leave your dripping cunt, continuously finger fucking you. You felt yourself getting close, but this isn’t how you wanted to go. “Dae-Ho~! Get… inside!” Your command somehow made the male even harder, his cock stirring in his pants.

He removes his fingers so he could lift you up onto the kitchen counter. While you desperately removed your panties, he took off his pants and got his member free.

Dae-Ho lines up with your entrance. Your wetness being more than needed for a lubricant. “Fuck, you’re so wet. All this cause of me?” He’d remark with a light cocky smirk. You glare up at him, still needing your nerves fucked out of you.

“Shut up.”

The male narrows his eyes and enters you with one thrust, bottoming out. You cry out, wet enough where it didn’t hurt, just raw pleasure. “Oh fuck—!” You choke on your own words. Dae-Ho barely gives a moment to adjust as he starts ramming into you at a fast pace. Pumped full with adrenaline, you didn’t mind at all. It almost felt like having sex for the first time. But you’ve never felt Dae-Ho’s thrust so desperately before. He had his hands on your hips, pushing you further down on him to meet every thrust. You were seeing stars, almost drifting away from the feeling. But then, you hear a,

“I love you.”

Dae-Ho was looking at you with a deep sincerity. You gaze into his eyes. Of course, now you remember, you were fighting. Your heart grew so full. You cup his face, and lull him closer.

“I-I love you too!”

You both kiss lovingly, now out of pure passion and love for each other, than out of lust. His rhythm struck slightly out of order, and you knew he was close. Before you could even hold out for him though, you come undone. You cry out his name, your head arched toward the ceiling. Dae-Ho sped up, his thrusts sloppy, but yearning.

“(Y,n)… (Y,n)…! Shit…!”

He lets out a held back roar, finishing inside of you. You cling onto him, whining with broken gasps. Your hands drift from his back to his shoulders as the two of you calm down.

Panting, Dae-Ho rests his head against your collarbone. You weakly rub his head, closing your eyes. He slowly comes out of you, creating a light squelching sound.

“Don’t be mad…I love you.”

His tone was soft, hesitant. You recognized this vulnerability from him, and slowly wrap your arms around him. “I love you too…” You say sincerely. Dae-Ho doesn’t say anything back, but he does scoop you up bridal style in his arms.

You’re carried back to your bed, and he lays beside you. It was late, and you were more than happy to get some rest after that. You can safely say you’re no longer angry. To double check on that, Dae-Ho mumbles,

“I’ll do the dishes in the morning, I promise.”

He gently pushes a strand of hair from your face. You scoot closer, signaling your boyfriend to embrace you in his open arms. He plants a kiss on your head. You listen to his heartbeat, the way it beat so fast.

“I’m sorry…”

“…I’m sorry too…”

The two of you lay there together, drifting off into a well needed slumber. But for the first time in awhile, you felt like your relationship with your lover was secure. And how, that’s one way to get out of doing dishes.

[boypied]

the taste of him

[an old friend] eugene allerton x male reader

summary: you haven't seen each other since you were both teenagers, but then you ran into each other while in a bar. you both forgot how badly you lusted for one another back in the day and how desperate you both were to get the taste of each other back after all these years.

wc: 1.2k

notes: MDNI, FDNI, oral sex (r!giving), swearing, cum swallowing, nipple play.

The ding of the bell is something you haven't heard in such a long time. It's been years since you came back here, which is strange considering you and your friend group used to come here every day. You've lost touch with the majority of them now, but you don't mind at all cause at least they're all happy with what they're doing and aren't being held back by some sort of nostalgia that has pulled you back here. Your eyes scatter around the room, hoping to see someone from your past yet no luck, and you feel that pit in your stomach grow larger and larger until you hear the bell that rings when the door opens and then someone call out your name, you slowly turn around and Eugene's gorgeous face becomes clearer and clearer. Your eyes wander across his face, admiring him and his chiselled jawline, "E-Eugene?" You mumble out in a low tone as a small smile creeps up on your face. "Long time, no see." Eugene says in his low voice and the accent that you love so much. You both stare at each other for a moment with a dark hungrt behind his eyes before Eugene finally speaks again. "Let me buy you a drink." He says as he flashes you a smile, causing your cheeks to flush a lustful shade of red. You walk across the bar and take a seat at a table in the corner of the room. You sit there waiting for Eugene to come over with your double drinks that you're dying for.

You take the beer bottle from his grasp, and you take a sip, letting it linger on your tongue for a moment before swallowing the bitter taste. The silence at your table was comforting, even though you weren't speaking Eugene, and you both felt safe in each other's company. The conversation began flowing, and once it started, it didn't stop. It was like a can of worms had been opened up, yours and Eugene's laughter echoed throughout the bar. You were both so lost in each other that you hadn't even noticed that the sun had set and majority of the people in the bar had left other than the alcoholics who practically live here, "wow." You mumble out as you look around, and Eugene just chuckles. "So, do you want to come back to my place... or hotel, I should say." He chuckles out nervously as he fixes his mistake, "Yeah... let's carry this conversation on." You mumble out once more but this time the look on your face was different, almost like you knew that this conversation wasn't going to continue and Eugene inviting you back to his place was a clear invitation to some sort of sex and let's just say you aren't complaining. Eugene pushes his hotel key into the lock, and he turns it to hear the click, and then he pushes the door open, revealing the dark abyss of his hotel room until it is lit up by the light once he flip the switch. You walk inside following his lead, and you gently push the door shut, making sure to hear the click so that you know it had automatically locked, "So, what do you wanna-" you begin talking until you are cut off by Eugene's hands cupping your soft cheeks in a gentle way and pressing his lips against yours, your eyes flutter shut and you accept it while his tongue slips into your mouth.

"M-Mhm!" You whimper out in pleasure as you feel his hands run across your clothed body as he slowly but seductively pulls your clothes off, revealing your body to him. You both don't break the kiss your tongues intertwined with each other as your hands swiftly begin to unbutton his classy shirt that was clinging to his muscular body. Eugene pulls out, creating a string of spit from your lips to his. Your face is all flushed from the feeling of his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth. You and Eugene stare at each other for a moment, admiring each other's bare bodies until they lock eyes and begin to slowly unbutton their trousers, pulling them down, revealing each other's underwear that perfectly cups their bulges. "Eugene...woah." You mumble out, but he just chuckles as he grips the hem of his boxer briefs and slowly pulls them down revealing his lengthy semi-hard cock causing you to let out a sharp gasp. Your eyes flicker up and down between his growing cock and his piercing eyes, Eugene sits down on the end of the bed laying down on it as his hard cock springs up and you crawl over to him sitting down on your knees between his legs running your hands up and down his thighs. You lean forward and lick a wet strip up his large heavy balls that are so full of cum, "been a while?" You grunt out as you take his balls into your mouth.

Eugene's eyes flutter back, and his toes curl as your tongue flicks back and forth against his balls. "It's been m-months." He whimpers out, feeling his balls get sucked on feeling your warm cheeks close in. You pull away from his balls with a pop sound causing you to chuckle slightly, "fuck.." You groan out and lean up on your knees and take his pre-cum soaked tip into your mouth tracing your tongue along his slit tasting all his pre-cum, "f-fuck!" Eugene whimpers out feeling his cock enter your warm mouth being coated in your spit. You take more and more of him into your warm your eyes fluttering back every time his tip hits the back of your throat causing a sultry moan to be let out from you, creating vibrations giving Eugene ultimate pleasure. Your hands travel up his perfect body and one hand grips his pec, ever so slightly pinching his nipple causing his body to jolt and his cock to twitch in your mouth "M-MHM!" Eugene groans out, his fingers running through your hair gripping onto it and using your mouth as a fleshlight. Eugene's cock begins to slide in and out of your mouth at a faster pace once he has control of you.

Your eyes water feeling his cock hit the back of your throat at a piston like pace, but you don't complain, you enjoy every moment as you listen to his sultry moans grow louder and louder as his cock's twitches become more frequent and his cock is now as hard as a rock. "Eu- mhm, Euge! Mhm." You try to call out to him, but the sound of your wet mouth is too loud to be heard over anything else. You continue tweaking his nipples causing his moans to increase and echo throughout his hotel room. He was so loud that even his neighbours could hear him and know exactly what was going on in this room. "N-Ngh! Y/N!" Eugene whimpers louder until his back arches, causing his hips to buck up into your mouth as he holds your head down keeping his cock buried in your throat as he shoots his load deep inside your throat as you feel it run down as you swallow every last drop. Eugene's head hit against the bed as he continues to sloppily buck his hips into your warm cum filled mouth. You climb up onto the bed and lay down next to him for a moment until you feel his arms wrap around you and pull your body closer to his embracing his warmth.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived

[midnite-c6]

Ok now do a trilogy to Thanos x Namgyus gf but make it a threesome 💔

okay 💓 was thinking of doing that in part 2 but i wanted to edge. LMAO.

previous : part 1 ! part 2 ! <3 thanos (choi su-bong) x namgyusgf!reader pt. 3 warnings: 18+, cheating, degradation, pwp, rough sex

ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ with the back and forth of videos (of you getting fucked by them) being sent on both their phones, it turned into a competition of the two. to see who could make you feel better, but that was getting boring, the best solution is to just share! obviously.

nsfw below!! -> 🫶🏻

"you lying, cheating, slut." nam-gyu slips his cock from your pussy, before ramming it back in again, starting another rhythmic pace of his dick sliding in and out of you. your body was practically floating, having su-bong hold you up from the ground, with his hand tightly holding onto your hair. from this view, he could see you look up at him with cheeks stained with your mascara, how your makeup is ruined, and how you were taking him so well inside your mouth, just like the first time. "so fucking wet." nam-gyu would groan out, pointing out how easy it was to just slip in and out of you for hours. "damn it. one dick isn't enough for you, huh?" your eyes move from thanos' looking up at your boyfriend's. "your slutty dumb brain needs two cocks to fill her up so it's happy, am i correct?" he'd particularly thrust harder during the last sentence, you barely even heard what he said because you were too busy thinking of what he's doing to your cunt right now.

"she's just searchin' for the best." the one inside your mouth replied. you'd only choke against him as he forces himself deeper inside your throat. "fuck off." but nam-gyu couldn't lie, you were clenching him like crazy. he'd only let out a moan from that, spitting on your clit. that was the only sensation your clit had gotten, nam-gyu was ignoring it the whole night because you don't deserve to be pleased like that! now both your pussy and chin is dripping wet from their filthy juices and saliva.

su-bong would pull out of your mouth, giving it some kind of mercy, you can finally breathe the air around you, that was still a difficult task considering now every time nam-gyu pushes inside you, the head of his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, you'd wonder if he's trying to impress you, that thanos was only second best compared to him, maybe that's why he was your boyfriend in the first place... thanos looks down at your pretty, fucked out face and laughs, "you're such a freak for liking this!" wow. he was one to talk. he then places his dick on your face, rubbing his leaking pre-cum to ruin your face even more. "damn .. even prettier like this, señorita." he just loves seeing your face covered in his sticky cum.. </3

"ma' bro, let me fuck her." nam-gyu stops his thrusts, though not bothering to look at su-bong. "urgh. no." thanos tilts his head to the side. "how about we fuck her both, at the same time?" "what. you're into anal?" "psh, what am i not into? but. both of us. inside her pretty cunt. you can take it, right?" he asks as he tugs on your hair, you were still only getting to calm down from all the thrusting.. "fuck no, dude! i don't want my dick touching yours!" clearly, nam-gyu wasn't high enough for this. "fuuck, man, don't think 'bout that shit, she'll scream ten times more. high risk, high reward. i've seen it in a porno." nam-gyu scoffs, "high risk, high reward my ass. don't care shit 'bout what you watch." nam-gyu was opposed to it.

but seeing you to become an absolute shaking, screaming mess? hell yea. now you're laid down on the rought cement floors of the office room inside club pentagon, your legs being spread wide open, nam-gyu's arm hooked to your left thigh as su-bong's to the right. nam-gyu was first to enter inside you, then you'd already start yelling how it was too much when su-bong starts to push himself in aswell, "su-bong! s-stop! stop!" nam-gyu would harshly slap your face. "no moanin' his name, only mine. got it?" you nodded, fuck was he strict. "yes, sir.." you'd whine out lazily. you were being stretched like crazy, you swear they'd rip you open right about now. thanos finally bottoms out inside you, your body was already shaking, even when they're not even moving. but oh you wished that they stayed that way. now you're moaning crazily, for sure everyone inside the club, even with the loud music could hear how much you were being fucked. they were both fast as fuck, not giving you any time to breathe at all, it was like a literal race. nam-gyu's veiny, ringed hands were wrapped around your neck, just to let you know he's in control. thankfully, su-bong would pay attention to your clit, with his thumb pressing hardly against the sensitive bud, maybe you could cum tonight.

that's how you'll spend the night, and many more nights, but right now they're determined to fill your womb with their cum mixed together, like true bestfriends.

phew guys i forgot to add plot this is all sex. damnn . gonna start becoming inactive again and WAY more slow with reqs 💔 i love journalism hahah.

[sailorsoons]

HELLO WELCOME TO MY RE-UPLOAD OF MY REVIEW I LEFT THE FIRST TIME I READ THIS ON MY DEAD BLOG. It took me ages to find this but I finally did. ENJOY HALI'S REVIEW AGAIN AS I SORT YOU ONTO MY RECOMMENDATION LIST.

Welcome to the first SVT fic I read as soon as I locked in on Vernon so naturally, I went straight to Jade to consume content and boy oh boy was I not fucking disappointed so dial in bitches this is the fic for you

Where do I start? You fucking NAILED Vernon's personality so well in this lmao like I immediately was like

That's him!!!!! Jade always is sooo fucking insane with their characters like I'm always immediately obsessed with them. I love the

So, yes, Vernon can see you.  He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

Like specifically that little start to it was so!!!! It reveals so much about him and feels very true to being in a long term relationship where you can see that there is something off about your partner but you're not sure... what. I don't know - I just love how that alone is enough to know they are like in LOVE in love.

Also Jade's humor is unmatched. Being funny in fic to me feels like such an insane skill that is SOOOOOO well done here. The use of the sex-crazed monster like an inside joke throughout, the details of Vernon's 'AHH' face that he does when he REALIZES things, the witty back and forth between them, the gentle jokes between vulnerability. It's just sooooooo well done and something I always expect and get rewarded with.

God this is tender too. Like it feels so intimate and vulnerable and most of the time when I read fic, I don't feel like wow I want a partner but guess what THIS DID MAKE ME FEEL THAT SO WHAT NOW BITCH LMFAOOOOOOO NOW I'M LIKE WAIT A MINUTE MAYBE THERE IS SOMETHING TO THIS RELATIONSHIP STUFF AFTER ALL. WHAT NOW. YOU DID THIS.

Anyway, this made me absolutely insane lmfao I'm so soifjdoifgj the couple!!!! the smut!!!! the vibes!!!! the dynamic!!!! GOD DAMMIT.

ALSO YOU WROTE HIM FINER THAN A MOTHERFUCKER GODDAMN LMAO BYE

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

[cassianaries]

Under the Gilded Lens - Luigi Mangione x reader

Synopsis: Luigi and Y/N had very different upbringings. Luigi went to a prep school, comes from a wealthy family. Y/N's life is the opposite of that. They never had a problem before navigating how different their upbringings, but when Luigi takes Y/N as a plus one to a Gilman alumni event, she starts to feel out of place and like she doesn't belong.

Warnings: Swearing, classism, fluff.

Word Count: 1,594

Y/N was getting over stimulated in the changing room at the department store, she had to have tried on at least a dozen of them, none of them were right. Luigi had informed her that his prep school, Gilman, was having an alumni night and he wanted her to accompany him. Luigi, being the planner that he was, told her enough time in advance about the event.

But Y/N being who she is, procrastinated till the last second about buying a dress for the event. Every time she tried to think about what she should fear to a fancy prep school alumni night, she would get overwhelmed and push it to the back of her mind. She regrets doing that now, as she stood in front of the full length mirror, twisting her body back and forth, in the last dress.

It was a black velvet floor length fitted gown, that was off the shoulder and long sleeved. She felt confident in it, but she wasn't sure. She had never been to an alumni event, let alone for a prestigious school. She wasn't sure if she was doing too much or not enough.

She was sure some would be sporting the most expensive and luxurious, not that she cared about gaining their approval or fitting in necessarily, she just didn't want to embarrass Luigi. This was his old prep school, where he graduated as valedictorian and gave a speech.

Maybe there was a little part of her deep deep down that wanted their approval. Luigi wasn't like them he didn't care about having the fanciest clothes, shoes, or displaying wealth in anyway. But this was Luigi's life, this is where he came from, how he grew up. When she met his family and his extended family a year into their relationship, she was excited.

It went well, his mom and dad were very kind and welcoming, they made her feel like she was a part of the family. His sisters were kind, asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. Some of Luigi's aunts and uncles were a bit passive aggressive when talking to her. When they asked about her profession and she responded they gave her a patronizing smile and replied with a pat to her shoulder, "Luigi has always had such high standards, you must be very special".

She could see it in their face when she talked about her upbringing her attending public school her whole life, working two jobs to pay for her public university degree, and her humble profession that wasn't traditionally seen as "important" like being a doctor or engineer. That night did change something in her, it ripped at her self-esteem, it made her feel like she wasn't good enough for Luigi. She never really told him about the conversations because she didn't want to cause issues between them and his family.

When she was away from his family, she forgot about the feeling, but when she was near them, the feelings resurfaced. Luigi never made her feel like she wasn't good enough, if anything, he motivated her. He is always the first to celebrate her successes at work like when she got a promotion, he brought home flowers and dessert. He is her biggest cheerleader.

As she continued to examine the dress in the mirror, she facetimed Luigi to get a second opinion. When he responded he was laying on the couch in their apartment, a huge smile on his face.

"Hey baby, how's the shopping going? Did you find a dress?" he asked.

Y/n flipped the camera so that it was now showing her body. "What do you think of this one?" she asked.

Luigi sat up at full attention to examine the dress and give an opinion, "W-wow, I love it you look beautiful Y/N".

Y/N blushed and sighed in relief because she did not want to spend any longer in the department store. "Are you sure? Is it appropriate for a Gilman alumni event?"

"I think so, I don't think there's a dress code," he said.

"I just don't want to stick out like a sore thumb," Y/N said.

"You're definitely going stand out," he replied flirtatiously wiggling his eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Okay, I'm getting the dress. See you in a bit Lu." He laughed at her reaction and said, "Bye beautiful!"

*************

Y/N and Luigi were in the car on their way to the alumni event, Luigi had his hand on Y'N's thigh as he drove. She had been silent the entire drive. He squeezed her thigh gently to get her attention, "Are you alright? You've been quiet." he said. She looked over at him, he looked so handsome dressed in his suit. He had a concerned look on his face as he turned his head to pay attention to the road. "I'm fine, just a bit nervous, you know how I get at gatherings." she replied softly reaching to grab his hand and intertwine their fingers.

He brought her hand to his mouth kissing it, "I know, if you need to step out at any point, you give me the signal and we're out of there" he replied.

"What's the signal?" she asked.

"How about itching your nose?" he responded.

"Yeah let me just pick nose in front of all your former classmates and teachers, that'll be a great first impression," Y/N replied sardonically "Maybe the signal could be me telling you I want to leave."

"Perfect," he said a smirking.

********

They had been at the event for about 45 minutes now, Luigi had introduced you to his former classmates, who were quick to share embarrassing stories about Luigi during his time at Gilman. Y/N was having a great time, everyone was nice and very welcoming. She didn't feel like she was out of place, they weren't snobs or turning up their nose at her. That was until she met a former classmate of Luigi's named Bradley, who began asking questions about where you went to school. A small group had formed, Bradley and his date, a beautiful blonde who when Y/N smiled at her, looked her up and down, and looked away as if she weren't standing in front of her.

A few other former classmates who were on the robotics team with Luigi. "I actually went to a very different school than Gilman's, we didn't have all these fancy clubs and facilities that you all have," she replied. Bradley asked, "Well, what school did you go to?" he asked. Y/N stumbled a bit on her words now feeling the weight of everyone's stares, "I-I went to a public school, we didn't have very many clubs or opportunities that you guys had, you guys are lucky. It must be nice to have had that experience." Y/N replied. Bradley snorted, "I guess, it's not that big of a deal. But wait till you see the toilets their self-flushing, I bet your public school didn't have that."

Luigi saw Y/N's face fall as she turned to leave, not before she heard him call Bradley a "fucking dick". Y/N made her way to the car and could hear Luigi right behind her. She went to open the door, but he stopped her. "Baby, I'm sorry he said that. He's always been an asshole even when we were at school together." She just shrugged her shoulders, "It's fine, I'm used to it at this point." she replied. Luigi pushed her chin gently upwards so that he could look at her, "What do you mean you're used to it?" he asked. Y/N told him about how she felt and what was said by his extended family to her, Luigi was patiently listening to her as she told him everything.

"Lu, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to be with you. That you deserve to date another person who did the prep school thing, who has an important and well-respected career, and who went to an ivy. That's not me, I'm not that. I'm not a part of your world, I don't fit in." she let out the breath she'd been holding, it felt good airing this out and expressing how she felt.

"I don't want to date someone who grew up like me. Even growing up around this, I never felt like I fit in with them even back then. Baby, I love you so much. Don't let these assholes make you feel like you're not important or that you don't deserve to be here, you do. I am so lucky that I get to call you mine, I want you and only you. You are important, what you do is important, and I don't care if you grew up rich or not. That shit doesn't matter to me." Luigi rubbed his thumb back and forth across her cheek and leaned down to kiss her lips, softly and slowly.

He pulled away, smiling down at her. "You are so intelligent-" kiss "You are so kind" - kiss "You are important" -kiss "You are beautiful" -kiss "I am so lucky" -kiss "That I" -kiss "Am in your life" -kiss "And I am so lucky that I get to call you mine" -kiss.

"I love you Y/N" whispered.

"I love you Luigi" you whispered back.

He kissed you one last time, rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip, the biggest smile plastered on his face and he admired you. "Let's get the hell out of here."

[triptychgardener]

TT: So, any question?

GT: Just ask it, im already beginning to regret this little lightning round.

TT: Okay.

TT: Why are we not dating?

GT: Er... well.

GT: We never broke up, did we?

TT: We absolutely did.

TT: I distinctly remember talking to a dork wearing candy-colored suspenders and telling him that we were over.

GT: I cant quite remember that... those trickster drugs packed quite the wallop, huh!

GT: Except for you, mister straightedge.

GT: Anyways, if a breakup happened while one person was on a sugar high acid trip, did it really happen?

GT: Fine!

TT: Yes.

TT: You didn't answer the question.

GT: Cripes, dirk what kind of cockamamie question is that anyways?

GT: We arent dating because we arent! Youve never so much as asked me out to the sockhop, how would we be dating?

TT: Dude.

TT: We made out like, twice last month. 

GT: Oh for the love of, i was bored!!!

GT: A guy can only watch the nolan batman movies so many times before he decides its worth shoving his tongue down his best bros throat so hell pause the damn flick.

TT: I thought you liked movies! It's a comic book movie, it's Nolan, it's the perfect intersection of our two vibes.

GT: Well im not a fan!

GT: Now the schumacher films--

TT: Off topic again.

GT: Okay you want the truth dirk?

GT: I dont want to be playing second fiddle to your goddamn clone!

TT: 

TT: Hal?

GT: No the you thats squatting in my head YES OF COURSE ITS HAL!!!

TT: You're jealous. Of Hal.

TT: Of my autoresponder.

GT: Okay, first off you know damn well that he isnt just "your autoresponder." Self-centered much?

GT: And secondly, its not jealousy, its priorities!

GT: How can I expect to date a guy who spends so much time monitoring his robotic mirror self?

GT: I can barely get the time of day from you sometimes i swear.

TT: Come on, I'm not that bad.

TT: I just have to keep a consistent watch on him to make sure he's not turning 9000 on me.

TT: And anyways, if anything Hal would be the side chick.

GT: Wow gee dirk well let me just yank down my bloomers and get busy then!

GT: You really know how to make a lady feel special. Nothing makes a gal feel like a million bucks than being assured that no, the *other* girl is the side-hussy!

TT: I.

TT: Am going to go.

TT: I have things to do.

GT: I dont think hal likes being called a thing anymore!

TT: GOODBYE!!!

[dilfismz]

gihun fluff and make out sessions please 🙏 i love him ugh

Stargazing

Pairing: Gi-hun x reader

Summary: Gi-hun takes you out on a surprise date, ready to reveal his feelings. Although you've only been together a few months he can't deny the strong feelings he has towards you.

A/N: No timeline is specified, it's ambiguous.

Life with Seong Gi-hun was like a series of unexpected detours—you never knew where he’d take you next, but it was always worth the ride.

You met him on a day when everything had fallen apart. Your job closed unexpectedly. You’d been sitting on a bench in the park, staring blankly at the papers that had to be signed, when a stranger sat beside you.

“Uh, do you want some hotteok?”

You’d blinked at him, startled.

He held up a bag of steaming pancakes, his awkward grin almost as warm as the food itself. “It’s, uh… really good. And you look like you could use something good right now.”

      *. ──── ❍  Δ □ ────*.

That day had changed everything. Seong Gi-hun wasn’t the kind of person you expected to fall for, but his honesty and endless optimism were magnetic. Over the months that followed, he’d become your rock, and somehow, you’d become his.

Tonight, he’d promised you something special. You didn’t know what, but you trusted him enough to go along for the ride.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asked as you walked out of your apartment building, his excitement palpable.

“That depends,” you teased. “What are you planning, exactly?”

He grinned, pulling you toward his car parked at the curb. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

You got in, watching as he fumbled with a map he’d printed out.

“Gi-hun,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Are we going somewhere that’s not on GPS?”

“Exactly!” he said proudly. “It’s a secret spot. You’re going to love it.”

The drive was longer than you expected, the city lights giving way to quieter suburbs and eventually open countryside. Gi-hun filled the silence with stories about his childhood and terrible attempts at singing along to the radio.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said as the car slowed to a stop.

“Close my eyes?” you asked skeptically.

“Trust me,” he said, laughing. “I promise it’s worth it.”

You complied, feeling the car come to a full stop before he helped you out. His hands were warm on yours as he guided you a few steps forward.

“Alright,” he said, his voice soft. “Open your eyes.”

When you did, your breath caught.

Before you was a wide, open field dotted with wildflowers, the sky above glittering with stars. In the middle of the field was a small picnic setup—blankets, pillows, and a basket lit by the soft glow of string lights wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Gi-hun,” you said, turning to him in awe. “This is beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking shy. “I wanted to do something special. I know things have been… tough lately, so I thought we could use a night like this.”

Your heart swelled as you took his hand. “This is perfect.”

The two of you settled on the blanket, the night air cool but not uncomfortable. Gi-hun opened the picnic basket to reveal an assortment of snacks, including the hotteok he always insisted on bringing.

“You know,” you said, laughing as you bit into one. “I think you’re singlehandedly keeping the hotteok business alive.”

“And I’m not even sorry,” he replied, grinning.

The night passed in a haze of laughter and easy conversation. You shared memories of your favorite childhood adventures, swapped embarrassing stories, and debated the best constellations in the sky.

At one point, Gi-hun lay back on the blanket, pulling you down beside him.

“See that one?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of stars. “That’s Cassiopeia. She’s the queen.”

“Didn’t she get punished for being too vain?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, queens make mistakes too,” he said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I guess that makes you the court jester.”

“Wow,” he said, feigning offense. “And here I thought I was your king.”

“Not with those dad jokes,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He chuckled, his hand finding yours. The silence that followed was comfortable, the two of you simply soaking in the moment.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quieter. “I need to tell you something.”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I know I joke around a lot, and maybe I don’t always say things the way I should, but… you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really, really glad you’re here.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected.

“Gi-hun,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He turned to you, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative but deeply heartfelt.

You responded without hesitation, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—just a slow, deliberate exchange that left you both breathless.

You move to straddle him, knees on each of his sides. Gi-hun blushes in surprise and tangles his hands in your hair, earnestly pushing you back towards him, connecting your mouths. The fingers on your right hand pull on the bottom of his shirt, while your left shoots up to stroke his curly hair. 

He groans into the kiss, hands now moving to your sides, squeezing slightly. When you let out a small whine Gi-hun cracks a smile and you feel his lips contracting during the movement, causing you to smile as well. 

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you replied, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

He kissed you again, this time shorter but no less meaningful, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you lay there beneath the stars, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

As the night wore on, you drifted into a peaceful silence, the occasional sound of crickets filling the air. You traced patterns on Gi-hun’s chest with your fingers, a contented smile on your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly.

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Thank you for everything.”

And as you lay there in the middle of the quiet field, you realized that with Seong Gi-hun, even the simplest moments could feel like magic.

[medullamindset]

STEB HEADCANONS :>

Uhhhm YEAH a few headcanons ive collected since act 3 came out in november 😸 enjoy Stebnation, or dont idk

This is very short and boring but its easier to write him in an actual scenario so TRUST IN ME MY UPCOMING STUFF WILL BE BETTER 😿

Content warnings: Established relationship w Reader, miiiild mention of knifeplay but its easily looked past. My opinion on his race.

NSFW marked this pink!

• He cannot be any older than 30. I'd bet hes like 23-27. Idk how old u have to be to be a field medic/enforcer??

• Hes around 6'4.. Tall guy. ♥︎‿♥︎

• His frill thingies seem to lie flat to his face with "down" emotions, such as shame/guilt and sadness. But they point straight out with more intense emotions, like suspense, anger, exitement, worry. I love the way they flutter sometimes, as a subtle reaction. Like when they saw the Zaunites walking over the bridge to aid in the war, his frills were like "oh, wow.."

But also how they shot straight out with suspense when Ambessa wanted Caitlyn to b commander and everyone was banging their chests and stuff.

• I'd like to imagine his frills flutter a few times in a row when he orgasms, like the shockwaves of pleasure, but also post-orgasm. Maybe they go hand in hand with his nervous system kinda?

• His tip is the same color as his eyelids. His nails seem to be beige too.

• He CAN talk he just chooses not to if he feels he doesnt need to. Short sentences if he has to, small nods and shakes of his head, LOOKS. his face is VERY expressive, but thats more of a fact than a hc. body language is a key communication of his.

• Hes def always been the quiet type, ever since he was six he hasn't been big on speaking.

But sometimes you cheat the system.. Having your back turned to him when you ask him a question just so you can hear his voice, even just to get a little "mhm" from him <3

• On the rare occasion that he does speak his voice is kinda hoarse and gravelly from lack of use UGHHHH *squirts everywhere*

• hes a bit of a "bland" person, hes not boring.. Just a very simple man. He reads practically anything, carries your bags when you're out shopping, he literally just goes wherever you wanna go. He hangs over your shoulders when you do ur makeup, cooks breakfast most mornings, cleans when he feels its needed cuz he doesn't like messes, he'll have music on in the background tho and it's usually one of your vinyls that's playing, makes him feel closer to you <3

Simple things man. deeply emotional and caring too. Hes so kind and eager to help ugh MY SHAYLAA.

• hes a bit socially awkward, he doesnt have social anxiety, hes just kinda stiff and quiet around people.

• what the fuck does he do all day, really?

• I feel like he'd like dancing with his lover but he thinks hes bad at it so hes a bit awkward <333 put his hands around ur waist for him tho and he'd turn into even more speechless mush, everytime.

• Has a gummy smile thats really evident when he laughs so he tries not too, might let a grin slip in private tho c: and close mouthed chuckling/snickers.

• Loves being carressed, hold his face in your hands and trace his cheekbones with ur thumbs? FOLDS. Running your fingers up and down the fins at the back of his head when his face is in your neck? PUTTY.

• Speaking of fins, they continue down to to his lower back, shorter at the bottom but longest between his shoulderblades. He also has darker spots(scales?) Like the other fishfolk in Arcane on his outer arms and thighs. See this post of mine for a ref :)

• he drinks alot of water, like ALOT. his throat get dry easily cuz hes.. Yk, fish.. Atleast half-fish. He'll remind his partner to do the same, no matter your race cuz its good for u, he'll nudge u with a glass in hand and a small tug at his lips, or simply just leave it beside u as a silent reminder.

• Loves holding hands. like, he just LOVES it. He'll act nonchalant abt it but on the inside his heart is just blossoming 💗

Like imagine you're at a café or a bar or a diner WHATEVER and ur just sitting infront of him yapping abt ur day or smth ur planning while holding his hand over the table, and he'll just be buzzing with love, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb, feeling lucky his blush doesnt show (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• ABSOLUTELY ADORES kisses. He just finds them so sweet and intimate (cuz they are. But i mean like, he doesn't ever NOT think about it after kissing you, hes always locked on target y'know, he only sees you. He only feels you when kissing your lips, he'll kiss u like its the end of the world.. even if hes just getting up to go to the bathroom or something.)

• he just loves you so much, please kiss him, everywhere. Theres not a single spot of him you could kiss that wouldn't make him shiver (the good way).

• Steb is not much for hardcore kinks in bed. He doesnt "fuck", he makes love. In his eyes there truly isnt any purer form of intimacy than sharing something like that, giving away a piece of yourself to this person, your souls spiritually intertwined and yadiyadayada (it's true tho)

• He will go harder if you ask him to, hes not afraid to make you scream with pleasure. Also, bite him and hes a goner. Omg if hes like treating u so nicely in the sack you gotta bite down on something to contain yourself, pls let it be his shoulder, please leave pretty imprints of you canines all over his neck and chest. And hickeys too HNNGHH

Makes him groan so deliciously. Hips snapping into yours just a liiiittle more harshly than intended.

He'll bite you back carnally if you'll let him, Steb gets so lost in it sometimes..

• Hes open to experimentation tho, like if theres something you reallyreallyreally wanna try he'll be like 'euuughgghggggrhggh okay yk what fine', as long as he doesn't have to hurt you, not too much anyway. The idea of inflicting pain-pain on the person he loves makes him queasy.

• But if hes really fucking horny at some point, watching you take the front seat and play around w his gills, scratch at his chest, put a hand around his neck or.. Idk drag a knife gently across his skin while topping he'll literally whine, digging his dull nails into your sides, holding on for dear life.

• He loves being called petnames. Serious and silly ones. His favorites have gotta be Love, Darling, Baby and pretty boy.. All the sappy stuff. One time you called him 'Gorgeous' and his frills shot straight out for a solid three seconds.. If he already didn't speak, he'd be speechless then. CUZ HES A GORGEOUS MAN.

Or that one time you called him 'fishface' and he just slumped in defeat when he heard you giggle, knowing that one was gonna stick around.

You'll enter the kitchen where hes making something to eat and just go "Hey, Fishface! So--!" Continuing to yap and he just rolls his eyes with a lopsided, lovesick grin u cant see from behind him. From anybody else it'd piss him off, but it's you, So he lets it slide.

• he has the warmest and weirdly softest fuckin hands ever. They're never clammy or sticky, just nice and toasty, perfect.

• is the type to grab your hands in the winter and rub them if theyre cold, trying to transfer his warmth over, even if hes also freezing. breathing hotly onto them.

• speaking of winter he probably HATES IT. He gets SO cold SO easy, hes shaking in his boots fr. A frozen fishstick fr. Like jesus. But the palms of his hands stay warm for some reason..

adding to that hes def a sweater fiend.. He LOVES knitted sweaters and hoodies and TURTLENECKS. HE'D LOOK SO GOOD IN A TURTLENECK. TELL ME IM WRONG. LIKE A BIG, FAT, KNITTED ONE THAT GOES UP TO HIS JAW. Even better if you knit/crocheted them for him <33

• I headcanon that his dad is a human and his mom is a fish person cuz he has hair and rounded teeth which other fishfolk we see don't. We don't see any other fishfolk from piltover tho.. So maybe hes just slapped on a wig, peel-off eyebrows and filed his teeth down (which is INSANELY painful btw) to look "socially acceptable". I HEAVILY doubt that, when i rascism like that ever shown in Arcane, Piltover specifically? 🤔 Im not even gonna get into that whole Vastaya thing cuz i dont know enough.. I heard they can decide how many animal features they show as they please and that they're like deeply connected to magic and live really long.. But that isn't mentioned or even nodded to in Arcane so im just gonna pretend that doesnt exist lol sorry

• but ya he adopted alot of his moms fishy features but also human-ish hair and teeth from his dad.

•speaking of his parents, i do feel like Steb was raised kinda strictly? Idk i just feel like his parents would be very uptight and that stuck with him all the way into adulthood, he stands super upright and is well proper while on the job because thats just what hes been taught.

hes alot more relaxed at home tho, where he knows he doesn't have to be or look presentable for anyone, especially not you. he knows you'll love him even while standing by the fridge in pj's, with a fist full of grated cheese ready to be devoured at circa 2 AM.

• He was raised in a small village on the outskirts, right beside the ocean. Hence he still adores it and loves to go swimming with you, reminds him of his childhood yk c:

• He kinda gives only child vibes to me? Idk the thought of him with an older sibling is kinda cute tho,, i imagine they'd be like complete opposites. They hardly see eachother,, I don't feel like his family lives in Piltover. He had a "Mom, Dad.. I'm 18 now..! I'm moving to the big city. And there is nothing you can do to stop me." Moment, exept in a less verbal way maybe, moving to the city of progress and begining medical and tactical training, to help people. On both sides.

• Hes really good at origami, sometimes when hes at work and droning at his desk with nothing better to do he'll just grab a random paper and fold a little swan together. You've found multiple critters like that scattered around the house, some with faces drawn on, just two inky dots and a derpy smile like this : )

Once he made one of your favorite animal and left it on your nightstand before heading to work, you picked it up and examined it, smile growing even wider when you found the hidden lovenote that was written on it <3

It's now glued neatly into your shared scrapbook/journal along with many more, surrounded by dried flowers and red hearts <33

Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhhhh yeah ❗️🚮 i just debated wether or not this is even worth posting for like twenty minutes.

Pls dont bash me for my opinions now *gulp*

Also heres a lil reminder that im taking requests 💗💗 i love writing i just never have good or original ideas :'o(

[sccrim]

warnings ( threesome , oral both , licking cums , pnv , unprotected , riding , lesbian action )

you and nanamis wife find out what he did while you guys were gone.

not proof read.

tags : @rissouu @gorysims n everyone else who wanted a part 2

part one

nanami still couldn’t help but think about the video of you and his wife. he was so fixated on that the whole night. when his wife would even kiss him, he would get a hard on just thinking about it.

he did want to make a suggestion to his wife, asking if they can up their sex life but he was nervous. what if she said no? he just didn’t want to get caught up but unfortunately he did.

you sat on ur bed, on the computer scrolling away until u saw a video on ur camera roll that you had no idea of. nanami accidentally press record on himself when he was scrolling through your post.

you pressed the video to see nanami jerking himself off. your eyes grew big. no wonder why he was acting so weird yesterday. you texted your best friend asking her to come to your room.

you began pacing back and forth in front of your bed, not knowing what to say to her. you didn’t want to be there when she yells at him but you also didn’t want to be the easy they broke up. before you could even text her back saying never mind— she was already at your door.

"what’s up?"

"uh—"

"you okay?"

"sit please." you watched as she sat on the edge of your bed. "you’re scarring me." you took a deep breath. "okay so basically, y'know how nanami was being oddly weird last night?"

"mhm."

"well i think i know why. basically, i was on my lab top, i was going to post our video we did last week. i saw this video that i don’t remember so i pressed on it…" a small pause. your best friend looking at you to continue.

"it was nanami— and well, he was masturbating. he kept saying your name and mine. i’m positive he saw our video." you were scared for her reaction but it wasn’t what you thought it would be.

"oh wow. definitely not surprised but like i did cheat on him just didn’t think he would find out that way—"

"you’re not upset?"

"i can’t be y/n. i did cheat on him. what can i say?"

"i mean true but i don’t know!"

"if we are being honest, i was going to discuss with him about being a poly but i just didn’t know how to ask him."

to be fair, you were in love with your best friend and you had started to like nanami but you never thought about a poly.

"i love you y/n and i know nanami feels the same way. i see the way he stares at you or wonders if you’re with someone. i wonder the same as well." you were shocked honestly. but you were praying on the inside that nanami agreed to it. "come on, we'll tell him together." now your heart went to your ass.

"nanami, baby." you can hear nanami hum. "so, did anything yesterday when we were gone?" your eyes looked away from his eyes. "no. why?"

"you sure?"

"i mean i cleaned but that’s about it." liar.

"babe be honest with me." you can tell he was nervous. he didn’t know to lie or say the truth. "fine. please don’t get mad. but — i was being nosy and went into y/n's room and i kept hearing notifications. i know it was wrong but then i saw only fans and just wanted to know how much you make and i got more curious and saw you too and i got off on that. please don’t be mad."

you wanted to laugh but you knew this situation was serious. "it’s okay honey, i can’t be mad. i do apologize for not telling you about it either."

"i’m sorry y/n for sneaking in your room."

"it’s okay." you chuckled causing nanami to turn red. "speaking of which, i have something to ask."

"hm?"

"i know you feel something towards y/n and—"

"oh god, im so-"

"nanami relax. i was going to say i do too, and i wanted to know if you’re willing to be in a relationship with her as well."

"what is it called? a poly?"

"mhm."

"wow. i mean two women at once?"

nanami smiled big. "well yeah."

"this is heaven."

"we also have a surprise for you."

"for me?!" your best friend grabbed nanamis hand and yours leading to the master bedroom. you were confused too. she never said anything else. "since we are doing this, i’ve been waiting to try so bad." she smiled taking her clothes off. nanami smiling knowing his dreams were coming true.

"i wanna see you guys touch each other first." so quick for nanami to request what he wanted but yall weren’t complaining though. "like this?" you began grabbing your best friends breast. nanami sitting in the corner of the chair. nodding in agreement as he took off his clothes.

you and your best friend breathing getting heavier. "finger her." you nodded, your fingers rubbing against her pussy. she moaned from the feeling. "she’s wet for you." you bit your bottom lip looking at nanami while placing your fingers in your mouth.

nanami pumping himself seeing you eat his wife out. this is what he wanted and he finally got it. "when i fuck her, i want you looking at me." he pointed as he slapped your ass. he rubbed his tip against your entrance. "oh fuck." your best friend moaned out loud. "don’t look at her, look at me."

nanami gave it no time, he thrusted in you causing you to moan. "don’t stop." she whispered. nanami grabbing your hips, thrusting back and forth. you began tweaking on his dick. nanami moaning seeing your ass shaking perfectly. his wife also humping your face. "just like that baby." he whispered.

"oh god." you whispered as nanami kept going faster. "nanami lay on your back." his wife demanded. "sit on his face y/n." you positioned yourself to sit on his face. nanami's tongue did circular motion on your clit causing you to moan. "ride his fucking face." his wife kissed your lips. his wife goes down and began sucking his dick.

nanami moaned feeling his wife take all of it. "nanami-" you moaned. he gripped on your thighs when he felt you ride him. the room was filled with sweat, moans, and screams.

you faced the other way, while his wife began to ride his dick. nanami still eating you out while you were making out with his wife. "fuck guys-" your best friend whispered as she sucked on your breast. "please don’t fucking stop."

"yeah baby, eat her fucking pussy." this man was in fucking heaven. his has his wife riding him and his now girlfriend sitting on his face? yeah this man was loving it. "i’m gonna fuc—"

"me too—" all of you guys keeping up the same place. you came in nanamis mouth. "lick my cum off her pussy." nanami demanding as he felt himself shooting inside her. you bent down and licked your best friend clit while still on nanami. she lifted up a bit and smiled seeing you lick off both of them.

"was this what you wanted nanami?"

"mhm."

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[chanranghaeys]

😭

i've been putting off reblogging this because 1) i was busy AS A WORKING GIRLIE, 2) i was busy as a working girlie wishing for CHAN AS MY WORK SPOUSE, and 3) svt con weekend in my country haha

I'm Annotating my going insane because I Want To (below the cut~)

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

i hate how kae clocked me for this as a nonprofit programs girlie hate it hate it hate it LOVE IT SO MUCH I COULD CRY. chan would be such a good programs person if he worked hard on it i can See it.

He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

wow. wow. just imagine arriving to THIS at the office in the morning. i'd faint on the spot. or just outright kiss him—office etiquette be damned.

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

i've always maintained that i'd be so good friends with the maknae line irl as a forever svt maknae line truther. I Love Them.

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that.

LIKE WHAT CHAN?? LIKE WHAT??

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

i swear to have someone just know intimate details like this about you god i swear how was this not a giveaway???

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing.

sorry it's so funny to me that the ceo seems privy to these things seemingly evident in these little actions but of course she won't let anyone know about it my god it's so accurate imo

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

these small details gaaaahh me me me it's me i would so do this

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two.

CHAN IS ALSO ME I SWEAR

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.”

/kinilig/ 🫠

You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy.  “Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

something about vernon being the one to list all of this down makes me feel like he's doing this in tandem with seungkwan. or maybe a bet to see who will come up with a list first. idk. it's fun to imagine really.

this whole fic made me so warm inside my little fuzzy and fluffy heart. thanks kae for this wonderful little gift huhu bless u forever ✨

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?” 

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop. 

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?” 

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant. 

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often. 

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.” 

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan. 

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab. 

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!” 

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops. 

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably. 

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours. 

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible. 

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return. 

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone. 

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?” 

“Hm?” 

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!” 

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?” 

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. 

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break. 

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up. 

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers. 

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing. 

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that. 

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication. 

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed. 

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning. 

It’s all free game once the session ends, though. 

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin. 

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything. 

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” 

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha. 

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?” 

“Riiight.” 

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt. 

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says. 

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.” 

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea. 

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing. 

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.” 

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin. 

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why. 

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun. 

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to. 

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night. 

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.” 

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is. 

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression. 

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark. 

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly. 

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—” 

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.” 

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!” 

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win. 

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly. 

☑ You go home together after happy hour 

“Can we—” 

“Shhh. No, not yet.” 

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—” 

And so he does. 

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.” 

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains. 

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—” 

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.” 

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. 

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @everlastingday @henrygrass @nisbanisba @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @carlossreaders

An idea for a future/Jonah fic merged with Ranch Fic which I believed I've shared a bit of before. It won't leave my head. Here is a snippet from a chapter in which Jonah starts preschool and brings home a gift in the form a stomach bug they all get to take their turn with. Look how happy the little guy is with himself.

Thus this snippet is also me jumping aboard the Carlos Sickfic train whoo Niz you're still the captain and the driver I'm just joining the ride for a bit! Warnings for descriptions of nausea and a mention of throwing up but no more than those exact words.

He kind of wants to check in on Jonah and TK, wants to say goodbye to Jonah before he leaves for half the day but his eyelids are already drooping and the nausea still sits on the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he has a small window of time wherein if he just moves very little and goes to sleep soon he might be able to skip the next bout of nausea.

His wish is granted anyway as the bedroom door opens, Jonah entering first along with TK’s voice reminding him to be gentle, TK himself emerging last.

“He wanted to show you the dragon he chose,” TK says as Jonah climbs carefully up the bed to sit next to Carlos.

“Hey Jonah," Carlos says, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pushes Jonah’s bangs away from his forehead. He’s gonna need a haircut again soon. “Did you choose a good one?”

“Look!” Jonah says, pulling at the hem of his shirt and puffing his chest out, proudly showcasing the pink dragon on the front.

“Wow, mijo, that’s a really good choice,” Carlos says, making Jonah beam up at TK at the confirmation that they chose right.

“Are you gonna wear your pajamas to work, Carlos?” Jonah parrots TK from earlier. He does that a lot these days. Sometimes it makes him say weirdly wise things that sound way too adult coming from his four year old voice which always makes Carlos laugh.

“Carlos gets to stay home and sleep some more, because he’s sick, remember? Just like you stayed home when you were sick.”

“Did you throw up?” Jonah asks, turning to Carlos with wide eyes. He looks a mix between concerned and intrigued.

“Yeah, but just like you I’ll feel better again in no time,” Carlos reassures with a out upon smile. He hopes he's right.

“Do you want an ice pop?” Jonah asks, remembering that had made him feel better.

“Maybe later,” Carlos smiles at him. “But that was a nice thought, mijo. Thank you.”

Jonah looks like he’s thinking hard trying to come up with something else that will magically heal Carlos. He’s so sweet and caring, just like his brother. TK interrupts him before he can suggest any more remedies, heartwarming as they are.

“Okay, buddy,” TK says. “Time for breakfast I think, so we can get to preschool on time.”

“Can we make omelets?” Jonah asks, sufficiently distracted. Carlos usually lets him ‘help’ when he makes omelets in the morning and Jonah loves being delegated with small but very important tasks.

TK chuckles. “Sure. I don’t know if I can make them as good as Carlos though,” he says. “You’ll have to ask him for the secret ingredient.”

“What’s the secret ingredient Carlos?” 

Another time Carlos will tell Jonah how to make his favorite omelet, but right now Carlos can’t bear the thought of pronouncing the word of any food related item. “Love,” he says instead, ruffling Jonah’s hair, trying not to show that even the act of lifting his arm feels like a tremendous effort. Jonah frowns for a moment before he giggles like Carlos just said a super silly thing.

“Love? You can’t put love in an omelet Carlos!”

“Sure you can,” Carlos says. “You just have to make the omelet for someone you love and that’s how you put love into it.” He doesn’t know where the spontaneous pocket philosophy comes from and he hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in case the omelet TK and Jonah whip up for some reason isn’t to Jonah’s liking.

Kids don’t think that deep, he tells himself. Jonah will probably have forgotten about it in the time it takes them to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. And besides he fully trusts TK’s abilities when it comes to cooking. 

His jumbled overthinking is interrupted by Jonah making his heart grow two sizes and do a little dance in his chest. “Then we have to make some for Carlos too TK! So we can put love in it!”

Unfortunately his stomach seems inspired by his heart to start matching its little dance routine. Thinking anymore about omelets, let alone one being made for him that he has to eat, isn’t helping. He feels his little window of time starting to close as the nausea begins tauntingly closing back in on him. Luckily TK seems to read it on his face. Or maybe he’s just turning visibly green.

“We’ll make some for him to save for later,” he says. Planting a soft kiss to Carlos forehead he tells him “You should try to finish that glass of water though, if you can. I’ll bring you a new one before we leave.”

Turning back to Jonah he says more loudly, "Now, can you say bye to Carlos so we can let him sleep?” to Carlos he says softly “You look ready to, baby.” 

Carlos only hums in response.

Jonah rises up from his knees on the bed, putting him at eye level with Carlos as he wraps his little arms around his neck. “Bye, Carlos. Feel better,” he says before turning back to TK, putting his arms in the air to be lifted off the bed.

Carlos musters his last energy for a sincere “Bye Jonah. I love you,” But Jonah has apparently already moved on, or rather back to discussing what to put into the omelet, beside love.

“And ham,” he says as TK lifts him under the armpits and sets him back on the floor.

“And cheese!” he says, “And eggs and pepper and-” 

“Okay buddy,” TK interrupts quickly, sending Carlos an apologetic wince before quickly ushering Jonah out of the bedroom, as he keeps listing ingredients. 

Once the door is closed behind them, Carlos takes a few steadying breaths, the nausea thankfully retreating back to the peripherals. Having learned to listen to TK when it comes to medical advice, he sips the water until the glass is almost empty before he gingerly lays down, foregoing his own freshly clean pillowcase in favor of TK’s, and pulling their shared blanket up and over his body. He shifts a little to make himself as comfortable as he can and then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t hear when TK creeps in half an hour later to replace the near empty glass of water, or the front door opening and closing as they leave to drop Jonah off at preschool.

OPEN TAG

And tagging @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter

@bonheur-cafe @ladytessa @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom

@rangersoup @theghostofashton @everlastingday @henrygrass

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89

@the-126-family @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh @tailoredshirt

@nisbanisba @nancys-braids @your-catfish-friend @rmd-writes @goldenskykaysani

@captain-gillian @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye

@carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @pimento-playing-hopscotch @firstprince-history-huh @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@never-blooms @lightningboltreader @erythrocytebuffoonn @welcometololaland

I finally made a taglist so lmk if you want to be removed from it or added to it!:)

[izvmimi]

cw: platonic!zoro x reader. established romantic relationship with luffy. selfship-coded, reader has a devil fruit.

It’s not often that you and Zoro end up alone together, but today it really is just the two of you, him carrying the majority of the provisions you’d gone into town to collect for the next leg of your trip, and the remainder in the safekeeping of your internal storage. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just stow away the rest?” you ask for the third time and by this time, Zoro decides to pretend he can’t hear you. In any other scenario, you’d make a comment about him needing to get over that silly fear of being emasculated, but for now you allow it, shoving your free hands in your pockets as you continue on on your stroll.

Even if when you’re around the rest of the crew there’s a huge and frequent show of you generally disliking each other, it’s hard to bicker when it’s just the two of you, because the truth is that you appreciate him tremendously. Zoro doesn’t always talk much, but he’s honest, and that is particularly important to you, making it easy to pour out your heart to him.

Perhaps that’s why today, you feel compelled to tell him exactly how you’ve been feeling these days since your return from the last island. Luffy has been asleep for days, recovering from injury that would probably have killed you on the spot, and while he apologized upon waking up two days ago to see you saddled with huge undereye circles and an open book with tear-staged pages at the foot of his bed, the fact of the matter is that you’re not sure how much longer you can handle this.

The crew is familiar with his wanton disregard for his own life, and perhaps you should know better by now, but it’s just too hard sometimes, and you can feel your heart starting to fill with resentment, and even that adds to your guilt.

Luffy is free, and freedom means choosing to live your life however dangerously you want.

“You know I hate complaining about him, and I know you’ll just tell me that I shouldn’t expect otherwise from Luffy, but just once, I wish he would take better care of himself.”

The thought slips out in a small voice, and Zoro lets it marinate in the quiet afternoon air. Discomfort rises like bile in your throat.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you immediately backtrack, but Zoro looks at you and shrugs.

“I get it. It’s fine.”

You bite your lower lip, keeping the gaze at the ground before you. Zoro should know that you’re only frustrated, that you love Luffy more than anything, and don’t mean to speak ill of him, right? It’s just eating at you, the idea that only one of you is preoccupied with the idea of separating for good.

Luffy would be fine without you even in death. You, on the other hand…

You take in a deep breath.

“I trust him,” you say out loud, to which Zoro chuckles to himself for a moment, which makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“What’s so funny?!”

“That you’re this worried about him.” Zoro shoots you a glance, and mercilessly adds - 

“Realistically, you’d probably croak before he does.”

“Wow!” you exclaim in dramatized offense. 

Zoro shrugs. “I mean, I guess he probably cares enough about you that he wouldn’t allow that to happen, but still, I don’t think much can put that guy down for good.”

You pout, but something about that is reassuring, and that heaviness in your chest seems to alleviate just so.

“I guess that’s a relief.”

Zoro snorts again, which has you frowning at him again.

“Is it really this funny?” you ask, indignantly, but when he finally speaks again, his tone is serious.

“I think you’re misunderstanding him a bit,” he finally adds. Stopping for a moment, he gives you his full attention, and suddenly your heart starts to thump at the change in mood. He sizes you up for a moment, as if he’s trying to decide if what he has to tell you is worth it in any way, then lets out a sigh.

“He told me if something ever happened to him, there are a few things he wants to make sure happen for you, so that you’re okay.”

Your eyes widen for a moment, incredulous.

“What?”

Zoro resumes his stride.

“Can’t tell you what they are, though.”

You find yourself running to catch up to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea that Luffy has thought ahead, considering you even in the process, is almost too good to be true. 

“So what was the point of even telling me?!” you hiss.

“So you don’t make up some narrative about not being cared for in your head, dumbass.” Zoro says. You stick your tongue out at him which has him scoff and look away, but you’re thankful.

The ship starts to reappear along the horizon and your outlook has changed a bit.

…

By the time you make it back on the ship again, Luffy has woken up from his restorative slumber and is already asking you if you brought any meat amongst your groceries, an arm looping around your shoulders and your waist. But instead of pushing him off of you for grabbing you too quickly, you look at him for a moment, and the sudden affection in your eyes is enough that it actually catches him by surprise.

“Hey, ___, what’s up?” he asks as you really take him in, but you just smile and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re back.”

He grins widely. 

“Can’t get rid of me if you tried.”

[del-stars]

Sirius is the third in the stormking marriage and it’s like he’s 20something and broke and they’re this older well off bored married couple and they decide hey what the hell and suddenly sirius is drinking their expensive merlot in a velvet robe after round 4848575 because for 40sometings they can go for a while

And it’s perfect because kingsley needs a new shiny thing to dote on and alastor loves providing and protecting and sirius is a-ok fulfilling whatever role they need

sirius is BROKE 😭😭 like he went from being raised around the finer things in life to being bust down broke as fuck. so when he runs into these older gay guys who clearly have cash.... he's scheming from the moment he meets them. alastor and kingsley r both like. wow. look at this shiny new toy we get to play with. so they r taking him on expensive ass dates and LAVISH vacations and he's just their 20something twink there to entertain them. he's not not a sugarbaby... but also he likes them!! alastor is like. giving him career guidance n shit. and kingsley is always giving him life advice. for angst purposes i feel like alastor definitelyyyyy catches hard feelings & genuinely cares for sirius on a very deep level whereas kingsley is like. this is literally a 20 year old nyu student we found on grindr. like he's cool but he's not part of our family ?? chill out. but kingsley and sirius fuck the nastiest which is why kingsley keeps him around. and then sirius is litr just happy to be there !!!!!!!!

[lavalamps-and-ladydoors]

Do you think about this much? I can't tell if it crosses your mind often.

oh wow. buckle up my friend.

As Dan says in the Amazing Dan reaction video, "I was desperate to create my own brand on YouTube", you can see that desperation in his earlier videos especially pre 2012. I mean a lot happened that year, they move to London, start hosting a joint radio show and their brand becomes 'Dan and Phil'. Even past the phandom, shipping, privacy invasions, conspiracies ect, they were still known as Dan and Phil. Like they won the Radio 1 Teen award for best vlogger, even though they don't vlog and are two people.

They embraced it with the books and TATINOF, but looking back you can tell it was weighing on both of them, Dan especially. We now know that II was supposed to be the end, that it was both of them giving it their all, giving the people what they wanted before they stopped posting jointly. Honestly after seeing what they went through throughout those first 9 years it makes total sense why Dan would want that.

All of this makes the WAD era that much more gut punching. It must have meant the world to Phil to see his partner do this show. A show that was born out of so many 'failed' projects, pain, and injustice. He got to see Dan saving his own life over and over again, see him be authentic, help so many people. And throughout all of this Phil is having his own chronic health issues, the greenening, stresses ect. But we see him support Dan through it all, the texts in WDAPTEO 3+4, the orange heart tweet, promoting Dan's book when he wouldn't do it enough himself, he'll always be Dan's biggest cheerleader. They just love each other so much and its beautiful to see.

I love to see how Dan credits Phil in his solo projects. Most of the time it's not how one would expect someone to be credited. This type of work obviously happens all the time but Dan puts it into words and makes sure that we know at least a fraction of what Phil is doing.

'Special thanks to amazing phil for production assistance" (Basically I'm Gay)

'Archive Historian - Phil Lester' (Why I Quit YouTube)

'Creative Producer- Phil Lester' (Dystopia Daily)

'Remote Crisis Manger- Phil Lester' (We're All Doomed Tour)

I feel that people has underestimated Phil for so long, I remember people would hate on him for being less 'edgy' than Dan, for making different kinds of videos, even when he came out half the posts I remember seeing were comparing their videos and not appreciating that this man just came out. to millions of people...

I'm just so grateful to be in an era where they don't have to hide their appreciation for each other, where Dan can call Phil a power bottom, post pictures in a joint Halloween costume, and be genuinely proud that they beat Jesus/Jedus in a RPF shipping poll??

While the hiatus sucked I'm honestly glad it happened. I'm just so excited to see what Phil does next and when there is an eventual Phil solo project, I'll know Dan will be cheering him on the whole time🧡