#like it feels when you're the only one pushing to hang out and make the plans that you're the only one who cares

[moonknightly]

eight fingers crossed—

poe dameron x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k ish

rating and warnings: rated t for injuries/burns, poe is worried that you're going to get yourself killed but this is otherwise tame and mild

summary: “one of these days, i’m not going to be fast enough. i’m not going to make it to you in time.”

notes: @poetic-solo wouldn't let me post this until she read it i'm a prisoner in my own home-

get notified when i post a new fic here *:･ﾟ✧:*

There’s a dull ache on your right side that starts to pull you from your sleep. You instantly know that you’re in your bed—you can hear the soft hum of the fan you insist on keeping in the bedroom. But it’s otherwise silent throughout your quarters, save for the rhythmic sounds of your own breathing. 

You can’t open your eyes yet to confirm if you’re alone. You try, but they’re just so heavy and honestly, with the pain growing stronger, you want nothing more than to fall back asleep. The medicine running through your veins is wearing off, you’re sure. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up. You know enough to know that you’re hurt, and you also know that you won’t have to suffer through the pain long. Poe will be around shortly with another round of meds and bacta from the infirmary.

But you can’t remember what landed you in this position, not exactly at least. You’d been flying low on a planet in the outer rim when a swarm of pirates surrounded the squadron, and you’d been grossly outnumbered. The dogfight that ensued was mostly blurry at this point. You only know that you’ve been confined to your own bed and reliant on drugs to ease your pain for…you’re not even sure how long, really. 

More time passes as you try and try to pull anything from your memories, any little crumb that might be tucked away. 

The pain is getting worse, turning from a dull ache to a raging fire. It distracts you, keeps you from reaching those locked away thoughts. A cry catches in the back of your throat and you can finally open your eyes.

Poe is sitting at the very end of the bed with a syringe in hand, ready to push it through your IV like the medic taught him. But he doesn’t move. He’s just watching you, a deep frown etched into his handsome features. You’re sure you are wearing one to match.

You’re both quiet—it’s obvious that there’s something on his mind, something he needs to say, and you’re not sure if you want to hear it. He’s never looked so upset with you, borderline heartbroken. Suddenly any pain you were in didn’t come close to what was moving through his big brown eyes. It couldn’t even compare. 

He breaks the silence first.

“One of these days,” he starts, his voice cracking, shattering you further. “I’m not going to be fast enough. I’m not going to make it to you in time.” 

The pain is tearing through your side now, but that’s not what brings tears to your eyes. “Poe-”

“I thought you were dead. You were on fire when I pulled you-”

It’s slowly starting to come back to you. Five ships, all larger than your X-Wings, all locked on Poe. Jumping in front of him, putting yourself between him and the danger and taking them out one by one. The two fighters that had been tracking you that you never saw shoot. Crashing to the ground, everything erupting around you. 

You remember the heat. You remember feeling it creep closer and closer as you dangled in your seat, hanging upside down by your seatbelt. You remember when the flames first licked at your skin. The way that you screamed. 

And then you were flat on your back, and the fire had stopped spreading but Maker did it still burn where it had already charred your skin. You remember Poe’s voice, frantic and full of panic, even louder than it is now. 

“-and you’re not even listening to me!”

Poe never raises his voice at you, never at you. It catches you off guard. You want that medicine more than ever. The way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt into the sheets. 

“I was just trying to keep you safe,” you whisper quietly, sounding almost broken. Your bottom lip trembles and you can see Poe’s shoulders sag as some of the fight leaves his body—he’s not mad at you, not really. He’s just scared, and he’s not used to feeling this way. 

“You cannot risk yourself like that for me.” His voice is low, still dripping with a bit of anger that you’re trying not to let sting. “Not again. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought I’d have to carry your body home.”

He’s right. It wasn’t the first time. But-

“You can’t expect me to sit there and watch you get taken out when I can do something about it.”

“I can’t watch you die-”

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same for me and I’ll stop. Tell me that you don’t.”

Poe goes silent. He knows he can’t tell you that truthfully. You know it too, and you dare him to lie to you. 

But he never says anything, and you’re too heated to let the moment fade. 

“Do you really think I haven’t noticed how you’ve assigned me the perfect spot in formation for you to always cut in front of me when we’re under attack?”

“You’re my second, of course that’s where I’m going to put-”

“No, don’t blame it on ranks. You know that’s not what it is, you know that if Jess or Snap or-”

“I’m your Commander,” he finally snaps, effectively cutting you off and holding your gaze steady, begging you to fold first. “It’s my job to make sure you make it home.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re the General, you’re my husband first,” you counter immediately, refusing to be the one to back down. “We made a commitment to each other.”

Poe sighs, exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. But you’re not done.

“And if you do want to put it all on rankings, yeah, you are my Commander. And it’s my job to keep your six so you don’t end up dead. Or worse.”

Poe doesn’t ask what you mean, he already knows. You’re the only person besides Leia he’s confided in about his time on the Finalizer, the torture he’d endured under Kylo’s hand. You are the only person who has heard him scream in the middle of the night, the only one he lets hold him when he falls into a panic attack and cries. The only one who is able to remind him he’s safe and not having his mind torn apart, because his fucking panic attacks feel like Kylo’s digging through his brain.

You’re not sure there’s middle ground for you here. You tell him as much.

“I can’t do what you’re asking me to do, baby,” you mumble. “I can’t sit back and watch you get killed.”

He’s still quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He knows he’s being a hypocrite. He knows he would face a firing squad for you any day of the week. 

But he still fucking hates it, so he hangs his head and sighs to let you know as much. But he doesn’t push, for once he doesn’t become insufferable until he gets what he wants.

The pain in your side flares, and another whimper tries to escape you at the random surge that shoots through you. Your discomfort seems to kick Poe into action. 

“Here baby, I’ll make it go away,” he whispers gently, pushing himself up from his seat. He pulls the cap off the syringe as he walks to you, tapping out the air bubbles like he’d seen the medic do. He pushes the medicine through your IV port slowly, knowing he doesn’t have long before you’re pulled back into unconsciousness. He sets the syringe back down once it’s empty and pushes his fingers through your hair.

“Will you stay?” you mumble, reaching for his free hand, wanting nothing more than to intertwine your fingers with his.

He nods, locking your hands together, eight fingers crossed. “Baby, I haven’t left.”

You’re under again within a minute or two, pulled back into the darkness where nothing hurts and you can rest. Poe waits until you’re unconscious to apply the bacta to your side, his fingers gentle against your melted skin that’s looking better and better by the day.

“I just need you to stay too.”

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 12

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

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What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Taglist: @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @kindadolly @guineveresghost @cedarwood-05 @mojo-jojo-1 @yourmom132

Divider by @plum98

Masky and Hoodie are nowhere to be found when you return from the hike. Which, in all honesty, is a relief.

You end up back in the room you woke up in—your room by now, you suppose. You close the door, lie on the bed, and let the last hour or so wash over you.

It wasn’t nearly as much information as you would’ve liked—but fuck, it's better than nothing.

You close your eyes, and the image of Toby dappled in the sunlight comes to mind. Something tugs at your chest, like a mix of disdain and admiration, longing and homesickness, pity and envy. You turn to your side, trying to banish the thought of anything that has to do with Toby.

But that only lasts a few minutes before your mind wanders right back to the thought of him.

Truthfully, don't exactly know just how you feel about him. You're worried you don't resent him as much as you should. You’re worried you don’t resent him at all, actually. And, maybe most of all, you’re worried there’s a reason you have a tendency to stick by his side, one that you don’t want to admit even to yourself.

As if you need more things to worry about.

The one thing that lightens your conscience, ironically enough, is the idea that he's not doing any of this of his own volition. Selfish as it may be, you feel better imagining him as a puppet on some strings, rather than a free person.

Duty, obligation, blackmail—whatever the strings may be, all you'd need to do is cut them, sever the ties to the puppet master, and he'd be free.

You sigh, and turn to the side, facing away from the window.

You try not to think too much about everything Toby must've endured to reach the point where he is now.

And then you don’t know when, exactly, you pass out, but when you reopen your eyes, the room is draped in darkness. You blink wearily, that familiar migraine pounding in your head again.

You try to cough out some of the tightness in your chest, and then with bleary eyes, you glance out the window. The trees are motionless, the air hanging dead in the woods. Yet despite the uncanny stillness of the forest, every now and then, you swear you see brief blurs of motion darting through your peripheral, emphasized by the faint swaying of the branches.

You’re thirsty.

If it were up to you, you’d ignore your thirst and let sleep claim you once more. But you know your migraine will only worsen in the morning if you don’t deal with it now.

So, begrudgingly, you stand.

You could’ve sworn you’d closed the door yesterday, but as you stumble through your room, you notice it’s wide open.

You dismiss it.

Through the hallway, you make your way to the kitchen in the dark.

You don’t know what time it is, but it feels late enough to be surprising when you hear the low murmur of people talking.

You stop in your tracks, holding your breath. And when you recognize the voices, you quietly creep closer to the source; the kitchen.

“…spiders?” you hear the end of Masky’s sentence as you press near the wall. “She arachnophobic or something?”

There’s a brief half-second pause before, who you assume to be Hoodie, snickers and answers, “She’s about to be.”

Toby clicks his tongue—the pitch and intonation all too easy to recognize.

“Can’t we push it off by, like—like-l-like—a day or two? She just…”

It sounds like Hoodie answers Toby, but his response is too muffled to make out, which has you daring to inch closer. You press your ear to the knotted wood of the door and listen, trying your best to be as silent as possible.

“…have time for that,” Masky says. “He’s already not too pleased that we lost the lead on the journal.”

Toby’s quick to retaliate. “Yeah, but he’s—he’s happy we have her in—in-i—“ he interrupts himself with a verbal tic before finishing, “—have her in exchange. It more than makes up for it.”

Hoodie snorts. “You’re happy we have her in exchange. I’m sure he’d rather have the notebook instead.”

“That’s not true!” Toby’s frustration mounts. “You guys still don’t get the role she plays in this. You—you won’t listen.”

“Yeah, yeah—“ you can almost imagine Masky waving his hand as he brushes Toby off. “We get it, we get the role you want her to play. It’s not every day you find someone who isn’t completely put off by you.”

There’s a pause, and then you hear what sounds like him putting a glass down after taking a drink.

“Who knows,” he continues, “if you keep sticking your neck out for her, maybe eventually, she will feel indebted enough to blow you—“

He barely finishes his sentence before there’s a loud crash of a chair getting knocked over. The impact of someone falling resonates beneath your feet, and then there’s grunting and swearing like another fight's broken out.

You stumble back, shocked and scared and confused, and then you bump into something or someone behind you.

You don’t know who the fuck else is in the cabin if all three men are in the kitchen.

But as you spin around to face whatever the hell's behind you, a loud burst of static fills your mind.

It’s accompanied by a barrage of colours—so many colours. Too many. Flashes of dark and light overwhelm your vision until they’re all you can see. Dreams or memories resurface, mixing and melting together into one nauseating blur.

Glimpses of a forest flash behind your eyes. The green of leaves shudders in the wind, slowly at first, between cacophanies of strange sounds and jarring images that disorient you beyond recognition. With every flash of interruption, the wind picks up, and the leaves jerk and shake and darken before something sharp and jet black, like a spider’s tendrils, slashes through them.

The tendrils crackle through your vision, a mirror breaking, and then the cracks erupt into thick black smoke before bright vapors of red and orange eclipse the darkness.

It all happens within a split second, and then, faster than your mind can process it, more and more visions flash before you.

You see your neighbour’s face, laughing, and then sparks of red flood your sight until you realize she's bleeding. Skin flays from flesh, revealing the deep red and pinks of her inside, all while she laughs hysterically. Her face is mutilated and contorted into something beyond recognition with every heaved breath of laughter.

Pages of a worn journal flutter open to reveal insects—handfuls upon handfuls of maggots, worms, beetles, black flies—all writhing and squirming about. More visions of things you can't fully decipher cloud your vision until it’s like you're swimming upside-down in black, murky water and you can’t see the end of it.

A spider’s leg, as impossibly long and sharp as the last, tears through fabric, and then you're falling.

All around you, you hear your neighbor's laugh. You see her between jolts of colours, her face melting, eyes rolling back as some long, thin line splits a perfect cut across her forehead.

Like some kind of parasite, a black, squirming worm erupts from the cut. More insects crawl out of the fissure, and then something round and blindingly white amongst the sea of writhing insects appears; an eye.

It rolls back, then suddenly snaps its full attention on you. And as it does, your neighbor's jaw drops open and she screams that same fucking scream.

You're in hell.

You feel it; feel some other plane of existence beyond the edges of your reality. Waves of pain and agony, sorrow and regret, hatred and bitter-hot rage roil just inches from the precipice of your mind.

And then you hear choking. It's wet and guttural, and sounds absolutely awful.

You see your neighbor's throat cut open in a thin line, identical to the one that'd appeared on her forehead. And as she chokes on the blood filling her throat, she reaches a crooked hand out to you.

You want to recoil. But you're frozen in place.

Something black and pointed protrudes from her neck, the skin around it expanding like a bubble about to pop. And then that same spider's leg crawls out from the wound. And everything goes dark.

A black veil washes over you, bringing with it an impossibly cold front. The chill stings you down to your bones, washing over you like the guiding touch of death. And then there’s… nothing.

There’s no noise, no colours, no visions, nothing.

After everything you've just seen and heard, the emptiness is nothing short of blissful.

But then you feel it; you're not alone. Something else is with you in the darkness.

And then you hear Toby calling out to you.

***

You've been asleep for what feels like way too long.

Everything's stiff and sore, and that same fucking migraine is pounding in your head like an old, resentful friend.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is Toby.

He isn’t wearing his goggles. It's the first thing you notice; the full, unobstructed view of his eyes. Honey brown eyes, with flakes of green and gold visible even in the darkness of the room, are framed by long, dark lashes.

The second thing you notice is that he looks concerned. His brows are furrowed, worry creasing his otherwise soft, freckled skin visible over his mouthguard. Even worried, something about him looks so sweet, so gentle. It always takes you a moment to remember they're the eyes of a killer, and even after, it takes you another moment to believe it.

“(Y/n)…”

He speaks your name quietly, like he’s afraid of startling you.

You realize you're on the floor, and he's cradling you in his arms, propping you up to keep your head lifted. You must've fallen.

“What… what happened?”

Something of a nightmare dissipates behind your eyelids.

You sit up, or, at least, you try to, but a wave of dizziness has you crumpling back into Toby's warmth.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs.

With the delicacy of an angel, he helps sit you up, and when the nausea rises from your stomach to your throat, he lets you lean against his chest for support.

You recognize his smell; something warm and familiar in its woodsy-ness, and after a few seconds of breathing him in and out, the fog clouding your mind clears somewhat.

When you finally have the capacity to look around, you realize you're in the living room, right between the hallway and the kitchen, and Hoodie and Masky are also there, staring down at you.

Masky has his burly arms folded over his chest, and for the life of you, you can't read him. Especially not with his mask on. You can't tell if he's frustrated or annoyed or intrigued, and you don't exactly know which one you'd prefer, in all honesty.

Hoodie, on the other hand, is leaning against the back of the couch. And even with his mask on, he seems calm and relaxed, unlike the other two. He tilts his head to the side when you glance over him, though you can't tell if it's out of amusement or curiosity.

Not caring to find out which it is, you return your attention to Toby.

“What… what happened?” you ask.

Your voice escapes you in a low, weary croak, like you've either been sleeping or screaming for a long, long time.

“You..." Toby flinches, cracking his neck. "W-well, you, y-you—“

“You had a seizure,” Masky interrupts Toby’s stuttering with a flat, matter-of-fact kind of tone.

A seizure?

Bouts of flashing visions pound in your mind, leaving behind a throbbing blur of pain. You groan.

“How… how do you feel?” Toby asks, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so cautious, so tentative.

“Bad.”

“You see anything?”

“Mh?”

You look up at Masky, who’d asked the question.

The last few remnants of those images, as brief and fleeting as ever, evaporate behind your eyelids. Like they’re withdrawing from your grasp, and try as you might to catch them on your fingertips, you just can't recall them.

But something's changed. You can't tell what, exactly, is different, and whether it's just inside your head, but you feel it. Like something isn't what it used to be. Something isn’t right.

And then you notice what’s wrong.

You're not alone with the three men. There's... something else in the room with you.

A presence lingers in the dark edges of the room. You can feel it waiting, watching. It sits heavily, weighing down like it's on your shoulders, inside your mind—like it's everywhere.

You don't know what it is, or if it's always been there and you've only now noticed it. But even though it doesn't have eyes, you're almost certain of one thing; it's staring right at you.

“I said you see anything?”

Masky repeats the question, which thankfully snaps your attention away from the unnerving presence.

You purse your lips, shake your head no, but your lie isn't very convincing, even to yourself.

“Well,” Hoodie clicks his tongue, the sound slicing through some of the tension as he pushes off the couch, “better get used to it.”

He tosses something at you, but before you can even flinch, Toby catches it mid-air, saving you from the hit. He shoots Hoodie a hard glare.

If Hoodie notices or even cares, he certainly doesn't show it. He merely turns and walks away, like he has better things to do.

You expect Masky to leave as well, but he doesn't. He stays behind, keeping his arms firmly folded over his chest, as he carefully surveys you.

You push down the instinct to nestle into Toby, to hide into his hoody as though he might be the only thing that could protect you.

And after what feels like a small eternity, Masky huffs, and turns to leave as well.

You don’t miss the way Toby hisses the word “pricks” under his breath as Masky leaves. And, again, if Masky hears or even cares, he doesn't show it as he walks out.

And then you’re all alone with Toby.

Despite being pressed up so closely into him, you wish you were closer.

You feel the heat of his body, the warmth of his skin, the scent of everything safe and familiar and comforting, and you have to resist the urge to lean in and bask in it, bask into him.

You mentally try to shake the instinct away.

You're about to ask him something—just what, exactly, you don't really know. But then he opens his palm and reveals what Hoodie had thrown at you; a bottle of pills.

You stiffen.

The orange-tinted bottle is half empty, with only a few pills still rattling about. But there's no mistaking it; it's the same prescription you saw on the table. It's the exact same bottles you've seen littered around the cabin, even around the forest.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

At the sight of your reaction, Toby closes his hand around the bottle and looks away.

“You should… you should keep these on you,” he murmurs. “Even if you’d rather not take them—take them now, you should at least keep ‘em—k-keep ‘em close.”

He hands them to you, and against your better judgement, you accept them.

“Just… just in case something like that happens again.”

You don’t press him for more information like you usually would’ve. As much as it scares you, you think you might be starting to understand more of what's going on. And you're definitely starting to understand that the less you know, the better.

"C'mon," he hums, "I'll help you back into bed."

Before you can protest, he pulls you closer into him, hooks an arm beneath your thighs, and then he's lifting you up like it's nothing.

You still don't feel fully stable, certainly not enough to walk, so you don't argue as he brings you back to your room.

He sets you down on the bed, and as soon as he pulls away, you immediately miss his warmth.

"W-wait..." you reach out to him, fingers tentatively grasping onto his clothes before he can leave.

He pauses at your command, his deep brown eyes flickering curiously over the nervous look on your face.

"Don't..." you hesitate, "Don't leave me. Please. Stay with me."

You feel like an idiot asking this of him, but you’d rather feel like an idiot than be alone right now. So when he seems uncertain about your request, you nervously explain.

“I… I don’t want to be alone. I’m—I’m scared, Toby. I don’t feel safe without you. Please don’t leave me alone.”

Something in his eyes softens, something like a tension you didn’t realize he’d been holding. And, with a nod, he accepts.

He slips into the bed next to you, pulling the covers up so that you’re both tucked in. There’s a clumsy kind of awkwardness about his movements, like he’s not exactly sure how to go about this whole thing, and he keeps twitching and jerking and muttering things under his breath like he can’t get his tics under control.

When you both eventually settle, there’s a gap between your bodies, but he’s just close enough for you to still feel safe.

And it somehow feels easier to ignore whatever followed you, whatever's still watching from the corner of the room.

[bullet-prooflove]

A Southern Man: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @hagarsays @misskrose @rainmg

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn't the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

Harry’s a gentleman, a Southern man raised with honest to God Southern manners. That’s why he takes off his jacket when he notices a chill in the air, why he drapes it across your shoulders as he walks you home along the pathway that leads from the stables to your house.

You haven’t said much since he revealed his true nature. You’d listened diligently while you untacked Midnight, checking on the other horses before locking up the stables. He’d helped the best he could, filling the silence with stories of his adventures, explanations. He doesn’t know if that’s helping or hindering, if the deeper he gets into the lies, the further away he pushes you.

“I feel sorry for you.” You say finally and he swallows hard against the ache in his chest because that hope inside him, it’s dying. He’d prayed that you’d be able to see past the deception, that you’d understand it but truly how could anyone expect you to. “I have no idea how hard it must have been to keep everything so balanced, knowing that one slip up could just bring everything tumbling down.”

“Lying to you…” He struggles to find the words. “I hated it. I tried to keep everything as close to the truth as possible, when I said I was going out of town it was for business…”

“It just wasn’t the type of business you allowed me to think it was.” You summarise considering your past conversations. “You never actually said you were doing lawyer things, I just assumed and that’s part of it isn’t it? Letting people assume. It’s very clever, allowing people’s brains to fill in the blanks from their expectations. It’s like you’ve learned how to hack people.”

He's silent then because he realises there is no way on this earth he can take back what he did, the year he’s spent lying to you. The year that’s also been the best of his life.

“It must have felt very lonely being you.” You say as you reach the steps of the house. “Holding onto all of that, knowing that you couldn’t share that part of yourself with me.”

“No.” He says softly, shaking his head as you remove the jacket from your body. “When I’m with you I feel complete, like you see the real me, the person I am even without all the cons and the heists. You just see Harry.”

“I do see you Harry and that’s the problem.” You tell him, handing him back the garment. His eyes sting as he pulls it on over his broad shoulders. “If anyone else had lied to me like this I’d be kicking them off my land so fast their head would spin but I’ve seen the good you do, I’ve been a recipient of it. I know your heart is in the right place, that you’re trying to make amends, to redeem yourself after the whole evil lawyer thing.”

“But…” He can sense the word hanging in the air between the two of you.

“But…” You drawl as your fingertips trail along the lapels of his jacket adjusting them. “I need full disclosure from here on out. If we’re going to make this work, I need the truth at all times-”

“There are going to be some things that I can’t tell you.” He says his forehead coming to rest on yours. “Things that could endanger other people.”

“I understand that.” You respond, your nose grazing his as you look into his eyes. “I know the nature of the job, I get the need for secrecy, just no more lying alright? My heart can’t take that.”

“No more lyng.” He promises, his voice barely more than a whisper as his gaze lowers to your lips. “Only the truth from here on out.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mixingandmelting]

imagine having a moment with the sabbath crew and they realize you are the one for them, seperate please!! 😼

Hyuk: 

It’s not expected but not unwelcome. He can’t imagine a day without you when you’ve become his go to person to hang out with where the second he sees you in the group, he beelines towards you. His headrest? You. His hand warmer ? You. Strangely enough, you don’t show disgust but begrudgingly yet simply accept him as himself. It makes him selfish, wanting to be the only one to elicit all your expressions, his favorite so far being your deep blush from face to neck down. 

So, when you give him a nickname, it gains an uncharacteristic chuckle from him with zero hesitation to grab your hand and nuzzle his cheek in it. 

“Why are you being like this?” 

“Just because.” He grins, satisfied and happy you don’t pull your hand away despite your cringe.  

Wooin: 

To think it would happen to him and real hard. He always considers you as his daily source of free entertainment. Constantly do things to poke your buttons, his arm always wrapped around you regardless of everything, amused by your display of irritation while not actively trying to shove him off. He’s greedy to hog all your attention, making him more sensitive when you’re involved. More worked up then sulking if you decide to pour more oil to the flames or nag him for being wrong to quickly calming down when you try to placate him. 

The fact he’s realizing this while your hand holds his for the first time sucks and he has no idea what to do. 

“Uh, you good there Wooin? Your face is red….” 

…Never mind. He does and it’s that his work is cut out for him. 

Vinny:

 A tumult of emotions churns inside of him: shock, panic, confusion, uncertainty. Out of everyone, he wasn’t successful in pushing you away. Along with your stubbornness to stick with him like superglue, he never had the heart and strength to push you away, let you go. With you, he’s comfortable and able to simply behave as himself. No walls up nor feeling burdened because he doesn’t feel judged or pitied-  you treat him as a normal person. His fingers and feet on auto-mode when you text him or invite him to hang out, instantly opening your message while belatedly noticing he’s out and already walking right beside you. 

“…Don’t go.” Despite what’s happening inside, he mumbles the thought that burns brighter and hotter than the rest as he hugs you in the rain.

“…Okay.” With that, warmth seeps into his body from your arms around his. 

Joker:

With raising his two younger siblings, he’s more attune with his emotions and had an inkling about it. Feeling spoiled whenever you mother-hen him, fuzzy every time you patch him up after each of his fights. He can’t keep himself off you where he’s ruffling your hair, his head either on your head or shoulder. Can’t reach something? Happily obliges assistance with either getting it for you himself or, secretly his favorite, lifting you up by the waist. There are times he’d play bodyguard to make sure you're safe though most times it’s an excuse for him to spend more time with you. 

That being said, he smiles quietly while you focus dabbing on the alcohol-soaked cotton ball. 

“Promise you’ll be careful the next two days?” 

“Okay.” He’s glad you didn’t see his expression, sensing heat build up in his cheeks.

[webism]

pornstar!sukuna who has a niche for the dark and dangerous, he only accepts shoots that cater to his more… intense nature—ropes and chains and gags and rigs beyond the regular bedroom scenes.

pornstar!sukuna who works with many other actors and actresses. he's demeaned and degraded more people for a pay check than he can count, but his favourite is you. you’re not so easy to break, which he likes—plus, videos in which you bite back make double the profit.

pornstar!sukuna who is easy to agree when you call him one night asking for a favour. you were meant to do a camshow with another pornstar when he cancelled last minute—and you know people are excited for this one, if you don’t want to miss out on a paycheck you’d need to find a quick replacement.

pornstar!sukuna who is expecting a homemade bd/sm rig to greet him when he walks into your home that night.

pornstar!sukuna who isn’t expecting a bed with a pink duvet and matching fluffy pink handcuffs hanging from your headboard. it’s cute, he thinks—he can picture the scene, you laid out and fucked like a whore in pink. he’s eager, until you tell him the handcuffs aren’t for you, but for him.

pornstar!sukuna who is about ready to walk out, to tell you off for even assuming he’d do such things on camera, that he'd ruin his crafted image of this sadistic figurehead for a camshow of all things.

pornstar!sukuna who just can't say no and turn on his heels, not when you look up at him like that, your pretty eyes just too convincing. He's seen you fucked out and stupidly cockdrunk before, he knows what you look like when you submit wholly to him, and though it's a beautiful sight—one of his favourites—he can't deny that he's intrigued to know how you look through his eyes when they're glossed with desperate pleasure.

pornstar!sukuna, the notorious dominant, who loads up on thousands. of peoples screens handcuffed to a pink bed. Everything pink: the cuffs, the sheets, his mussed hair, the pretty blush that paints the bridge of his nose, the leaky tip of his cock as you stroke it, your nails painted pink to match.

pornstar!sukuna who growls when people start tipping each time he gets close to cumming. who looks so insanely out of place, big and imposing and so covered in tattoos that even his ridiculous length has been inked to an extent, all needy and growing all the more desperate as you keep denying him his orgasm. wrists chained to your wooden headboard, his muscles ache with the temptation of breaking free.

pornstar!sukuna who can't help but wonder if his life has been flipped on its head when you start praising him and he moans at your words alone. Who, for all his life has gotten off on inflicting the worst onto others, and can now feel the most powerful orgasm of his life cresting when those narcotic words spill from your lips. "doing so well for me, god you look good like this, sukuna."

pornstar!sukuna who can only hold on for so long before his taut-pulled patience snaps and burns on impact. so when he's watching himself through the display of your laptop, cock red and angry as it leaks in need at your denial of his orgasm again, he snaps.

pornstar!sukuna who breaks your handcuffs with one pull, and has you flipped over and taking his mean cock in less time than it takes you to process his movements. who is glad you were enjoying torturing him, because you're so wet that the stretch of his cock is only searingly painful and you're not pushed to tears... this time.

pornstar!sukuna who fucks you mindless for toying with him for so long. for airing out a side of him that is weak in the bones for you, and plastering it on the internet for anyone to see. he bullies his cock into you, mean and unrelenting—yet whispers the sweetest of nothings into your ear as he does so, low enough that your mic can't pick up on them—your ears only.

pornstar!sukuna who kisses you when he cums. his lip piercing cold against your lips, your legs shaking in desperate need for mercy as he paints your insides white.

pornstar!sukuna who laughs when you, in your cum-drunk haze, try to reach for your laptop to turn off the camshow.

pornstar!sukuna who promises your now-doubled viewer count that the stream won't end until you've come ten times on his cock—he's going to make an example out of you.

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS. [ pt 2 ]

--

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips—and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.

[die-tenebris]

Time to be poisoned by bitterness again! makes me beyond enraged that the burden of ensuring the people around me know to vote falls on me. I'd like to be mad that the info isn't very in your face, but also, it's pretty dang accessible (if you think ahead to look). Idk. Government do better. But also wish I wasn't the only person even vaguely engaged. I'm really sick of having to get everyone on the same page. It's exhausting.

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players —  he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・jealous gojo cumming in your panties ⸜⸜・

gojo eyes you as you pounce around the room, calling with your middle school classmate. it's a good thing to finally get in contact with someone you haven't seen for a decade. although, judging by gojo's expression, he's not happy at all.

"bye, sugar." you say, hanging up the phone. a small giggle of excitement leave your mouth, making gojo raise an eyebrow at you.

"you call him sugar now?" gojo asks from the door, making you jump. of course he was listening behind door.

"it was his nickname in middle school. we have meeting in 10." gojo grits his teeth. he can't believe you. you were always the ideal girlfriend, obedient even, and now you're acting like a slut.

"come here, sweetheart." he tells you, his finger doing come here notion. you giggle at him. you step closer to him, swinging your arms around his neck.

"i have to get ready." you whine, placing a kiss to his cheek. he grips your chin to crash his lips against yours. he's hungry for your mouth, his tongue swiping over your lips to get permission to enter your mouth. you try to pull away, you're already running late, but he's holding you tight in his arms.

you yelp when he pushes your pants down along with your underwear. a part of you is a little annoyed because you seriously don't have time for this right now. he pulls his cock out of his pants, jerking it right above your panties.

he's panting in your mouth and you feel jealous that he's the only one receiving pleasure. as if he could read your mind, gojo pushes his cock into your panties. his cock brushes against your clit as he thrusts in your panties. the way you're grinding on his cock feels heavenly for both of you, but he doesn't plan on making you cum right now.

gojo is still pissed at you and he's gonna show the guy that you're his. he pushes his cock inside your panties harder, chasing his orgasm. he can feel the heat of your pussy on his cock and it's temping to just push inside, but he has to remind himself that this is a punishment.

he groans, feeling the orgasm coming. his body tenses as white ropes of his cum fill your panties. he always cums a lot but this time, it's more than usually. you have no time to react before gojo pulls the panties on. you cringe at the wet feeling bit he shushes you with a kiss.

"you're free to go now, love. have a good time."

[s0lidar1ty]

SLUTTED OUT

SYNOPSIS. Aftermath of the SAG Awards

NOTE. We’re gonna pretenddd this is Rafe instead of Drew cause writing for actors as said actor (if that makes sense) just isn’t up my alley

CW: pure SMUT, praise, sweet talking, pet names, overstimulation, choking, raw sex, breeding kink

The SAG Awards are over, but the real celebration is happening behind the locked door of RAFE CAMERON'S penthouse suite.

His tux jacket is long forgotten, discarded somewhere between the entrance and the bedroom, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck. The crisp baby blue button-down he wore hours ago is unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms flexing as he holds himself over you. The scent of his cologne—deep, expensive, unmistakably him—lingers in the air, mixing with the champagne fizzing in two half-empty glasses on the nightstand. But neither of you care about the drinks anymore.

Rafe is a man intoxicated by something else entirely.

His body is a furnace against yours, his hands everywhere—possessive, teasing, gripping your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he can’t get enough. Because he can’t. There’s something different about him tonight, something deeper, more desperate. The high of the night still lingers in his bones, but underneath it is something raw.

"You looked so good with me tonight," he murmurs against your skin, lips dragging over the curve of your shoulder. "Had every guy in that room watching you like they had a chance."

His voice is rough, heavy with pride and something dangerously close to worship. He punctuates his words with slow, burning kisses, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, making sure you feel every inch of him.

His movements are deliberate—pushing you to the edge only to pull you back, a smug smirk playing at his lips when you whimper his name. Rafe loves control, loves watching you come undone under his touch, loves knowing he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. And tonight? He has no plans of stopping. No plans on slowing down. Not until you see stars behind those pretty eyes of yours.

The city lights glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting his skin in shades of gold and shadow. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in concentration as he watches your reactions, committing them to memory as he grinds his hips into yours, hitting that one spot that makes your breath hitch and your fingers dig into his back.

You let out a strangled moan, your manicured nails—paid for by yours truly—leaving red lines along his shoulder blades. You go to muffle your whines into the crook of his neck, but Rafe knows you; moves quicker than you. He leans back, his hand wrapping gently around your throat, forcing you to look at him. Keeping eye contact until your eyes roll back and your thighs start shaking as your orgasm crashes over you.

"Not done with you yet," he rasps, lips brushing against yours, but never quite giving you what you want. His fingers tighten just slightly around your throat, his other hand gripping your hip like he’s keeping you in place. He chuckles lowly when you arch into him. "Just like that, pretty. Oh, you're doing so good, baby."

"I—oh my… God, Ray," you gasp, your hand gripping his around your neck, nails pressing into his skin.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, eyes dark with amusement. "Tell me how you feel. Use your words."

"Fuuuuck," you whimper.

That’s all he needs to hear. He knows exactly what to say to push you further, to keep you teetering on the edge. He’s smug about it too, his smirk only growing when he sees how wrecked you are beneath him.

Your head starts to spin—from the lack of oxygen, from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure flooding your veins. Each deep, measured stroke sends a sharp, delicious pressure up your spine, making your fingers clench at the sheets, your breath hitch in your throat.

Rafe notices. Rafe always notices.

"Too much?" he taunts, but there’s no real concern in his voice. Just that cocky tilt of his head, that barely-there smirk as he watches you unravel. "Or just enough?"

Your legs tighten around his waist in response, pulling him in deeper, and that’s answer enough. His jaw clenches, a quiet groan slipping past his lips as his head dips to your shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing hot against your skin. "Taking me so good. Always so perfect for me, huh?"

You can’t even form words anymore, not when every nerve in your body is alight, not when he’s moving like that—like he knows exactly how to break you, exactly how to put you back together again.

Then, his voice drops, low and wrecked, a whisper meant just for you. "You’d look so good carrying my baby, you know that?" His thrusts slow, deeper now, like he’s savoring every reaction, like the thought alone is enough to make him lose it. "Bet you’d love that too, huh, princess? Letting me fill you up, watching that pretty belly of yours get all 'round just for me."

Your head is spinning, and he knows it—knows you’re too far gone to fight the way his words sink into your overheated brain, making you nod before you even realize it.

"Yeah?" His grin is wicked, pleased. His hand slides down, pressing against the soft plane of your stomach. "Can feel me right here, baby. That’s where I’d be. Right inside you, right where I belong."

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — FOUR TIMES MUALANI SUSPECTED SOMETHING WAS GOING ON (AND ONE TIME SHE WAS RIGHT)

pairing: kinich x reader

cw: no pronouns mentioned. ajaw is in a vacation. slight but not slight pda. mualani overreacting but she is a sweet. best friends trio. pyro vision reader mentioned. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Mualani knew Kinich and you were friends—close best friends, just like you two were with her—but lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

It started with little things, almost too subtle to be noticeable but somehow it didn’t escape from her perception. Things like how Kinich, ever the quiet guy, had begun lingering a little too long when he talked to you, or how you’d run all your way to the Scions of the Canopy's village just to welcome him back after a mission. 

At first, she didn’t pay too much attention thinking you guys were just being more affectionative and caring to each other. However, as time passed by, it has been shown to be more than a mutual friendly appreciation and certainly beyond a mere coincidence. 

I.

The first time Mualani noticed something different was in an early morning by the coast, watching the waves curl and crash. She often started her day stretching at the shore and riding the first waves of dawn. But this time, as she rounded a cliff, she spotted Kinich and you sitting on a rock overlooking the sea. The two of you were close enough that your arms brushed every time the wind picked up.

Kinich’s usual stern expression was softer than usual. Mualani squinted at you suspiciously. Were you... holding hands?

She jogged closer, but just as she got near enough to say something, Kinich quickly stood up, putting a considerable distance between you and himself. “You're up early,” he said, his voice in its usual calm.

You smiled warmly. “Hey girl! How are the waves? We were just discussing about it.”

Mualani tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You were? Really?”

You let out a light and confusing laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course.”

She didn’t quite buy it, but you didn’t give her any reason to push further. “Well, the waves are good today! You guys joining?”

Kinich only gave her a polite headshaking, while you nodded smiling. Maybe she was imagining things.

II.

Except she wasn’t. 

A few days later, you were hanging out by Tequemecan Valley' canyons with Kinich standing quietly while you and Mualani chatted. However, every time she glanced toward him, Kinich seemed to be watching you a little too intently. It wasn’t the usual hunter’s focus; it was softer, caring, almost like... adoring.

The girl squinted, pretending to be interested in some flowers nearby while keeping an eye on you two. You didn’t seem to notice anything, or if did, you didn’t mind. You just kept talking, your laughter filling the air.

When Mualani caught Kinich staring again, she couldn’t help but ask, “Kinich, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all day.”

He blinked, his neutral mask slipping back into place. “I’m fine.”

“He’s just tired from all the training,” you teased, winking at him.

Mualani raised an eyebrow, astonished by the scene before her eyes. Something was definitely going on.

III.

The third time came on a day when Mualani was guiding a group of Sumeru’s travelers near the springs when she spotted you and Kinich again, standing by the water. As she approached, she saw Kinich leaning down to whisper something to you, his lips close to your ear. You giggled softly in response.

Wait a minute... Kinich never whispers to anyone. Much less in such an intimate way and even less to make someone laugh. Mualani's instincts flared up immediately. What was he saying? And why did you look so happy about it?

She cleared her throat loudly as she walked up. “Hey. What are you two whispering about?”

Kinich straightened up quickly, crossing his arms. “Nothing important.”

You smiled at her, but there was a glimmer in your eyes that made the girl even more suspicious. “Just a silly joke,” you said lightly.

A joke, huh? Mualani filed it away in her mind. This time she was very determined to figure out what was going on between you two.

IV.

It was late afternoon, and Mualani had just finished surfing when she saw you two by the waterside. Kinich and you stood close, so close as it has strangely been, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Kinich was about to lean in and kiss you.

She froze, watching from a distance as you smiled up at him, your palm softly pushing his chest away. Were you two really about to kiss? It couldn’t be just her angle view. Could it be?

But just as quickly as it happened, Kinich stepped back, his usual stoic demeanor falling back into place. You turned and waved at her, your smile as bright as ever.

“Lani. Hey! How was the surf?” you called out.

Mualani, still in shock, shook her head. “Uh... good. Really good.”

She stared at you both for a moment longer, convinced she’d almost witnessed something, but there was no proof. Again.

V.

In the several days that followed, Mualani continued to witness that strangeness that kept repeating itself every time you thought she wasn’t around, creating a certain tension between her and you and Kinich—although she doubted that you had noticed any difference, treating her as you always did from the beginning.

Even if it relieved her to know that nothing had changed in your friendship, the surfer couldn't help but feel upset too. Was it that bad if she found out? Didn't you trust her the same way she trusted you? She wanted to be able to release all of her thoughts and ask you if maybe there was something in your bond that was bothering you. But she didn't. And so, things remained the same.

That was a quiet evening, and the moon hung low over the mountains. Mualani had been taking a stroll, enjoying the peaceful night, when she stumbled upon you.

This time, though, there was no mistaking it—Kinich and you stood together under some trees, locked in a slow, deep kiss.

The girl’s cheeks burned as red as the pyro vision you hold so dear closely, eyes widely opening and heart skipping a beat. She gasped, louder than she intended, and both of you quickly turned toward her. You blinked twice before smiling stiffly, even daring to look a bit embarrassed, while Kinich gave her a calm look, his hands still resting on your waist.

“You two!” She exclaimed shaking her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier! I mean, I knew something was up, but really?”

You bit your lip while Kinich just blinked at her, slightly starting to look more guilty as well.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you for long,” you said as you stepped out of Kinich’s arms and reached for her hand. “We were just... taking our time.”

Mualani arched an eyebrow. “Taking your time? You two were being so weird and annoying with all those suspicious interactions for weeks now! I’m supposed to be your best friend!”

Kinich rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “We wanted to keep it quiet,” he said, his voice low. “At first, anyway.”

Mualani softened, her fake scold melting away into genuine affection. “Still, I would’ve loved to know sooner,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You know me better than anyone else. You know I would never judge you,” she sighed as she watches the sorrow on your face. “Nevertheless, I’m really happy for you both. Really am.”

You beamed and even Kinich’s usual stoic expression seemed to relax slightly.

Mualani continued, her voice full of warmth. “I’ve always known you two had something special. And now that I know for sure, you better believe I’m fully on board with this!” She shot Kinich a playful look. “Just make sure you treat (Y/N) right, okay?”

Kinich nodded, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “I will.”

You squeezed Mualani’s hand, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and pure happiness. “Thank you, Lani. Your support means a lot to us.”

Mualani grinned, pulling you both into a tight hug. “Just don’t keep secrets from me again, alright? I’m always here for you two.”

You all laughed but shared a quick but sweet bond moment, the atmosphere light and easy. And somehow, Mualani couldn’t help but feel like everything had fallen into place just the way it was meant to.

“But just for your information. If the day comes of you get engaged and don’t tell me immediately, I’ll crash the proposal myself, make a huge scene, and tell everyone how long I’ve had to put up with your not so secret glances and not so subtle hand-holding. Trust me, it won’t be pretty!”

[star-5truck]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Sypnosis: Blue Lock men getting jealous! Characters: S. Nagi, R. Itoshi, S. Itoshi, M. Kaiser

Jealous - Nick Jonas

Cause you're too fuckin' beautiful

And everybody wants a taste

That's why (That's why)

I still get jealous

Nagi Seishiro

-Reo and you are the only people he hangs out with. But you and reo are closer than he thought.

-he trusts reo, he trusts you, so why is there a pit in his stomach?

-The feeling doesn’t go away for DAYS and he can’t stand it

-Ends up going to isagi for advice

-Isagi just looks at him confused “You mean your jealous, right?”

-Jealous? But reos his friend??

-Gets the balls to talk to you about it.

“Reo?” You said, a look of confusion on your face as you looked over at your boyfriend. “I mean, he is a nice guy. But I’m dating you, Sei.” You give him a kiss on his cheek, making his ears tint the slightest bit of red.

“Jealousy is a hassle.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and holds you tight. He settles in the crook of your neck, sighing in content. “I trust you angel. ‘m sorry for feeling that way.”

He feels your body shake from your giggle, he’s about to ask why before your hands are raking through his hair. “It’s fine. Jealousy is normal.” That’s all the reassurance you both need.

Itoshi Rin

-Gets jealous when you ask one of his TEAM MATES to teach you soccer.

-He’s right here??

-Worst part, he found out about it through said team mate. You didn’t even bring it up with him.

-Keeps thinking about it every second now

-Did you not deem him a good enough teacher?

-He knew he was harsh with words but that was only SOMETIMES (It really isn’t)

“Rin?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him look up at you.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring again. Something on your mind?” You’ve noticed he’s been quieter nowadays. Staring off into nothing like his thoughts were so important- which they could be. But you’d like to help him in his predicament.

“Do you not want to spend time with me?” He asks suddenly, making you blink in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I know you asked Shidou to teach you soccer.”

Your face is immediately red. He wasn’t wrong, anyway, it’s just that Rin took it the wrong way. You’d asked Shidou to teach you soccer because you wanted to spend more time with Rin. You just wanted to impress him. Rin tells you that’s a stupid idea. Immediately makes you stop your lessons with Shidou.

Itoshi Sae

-First of, Sae doesn’t get jealous. He’s perfectly comfy with how your relationship is and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him.

-Never fucking mind

-Who does this waiter think he is asking for your number?

-Sae is literally sitting infront of you on a DATE

-Gives the guy the worst stare you’d ever imagine

-Of course, you don’t give the guy your number but it still irks Sae.

“We should stop going to that restaurant.” Sae says after he starts the car and you’re on the road. You look at him surprised. Considering Sae’s the one who suggested you eat there in the first place.

“What? Why? Isn’t this one of the few restaurants that consider your diet?

“I don’t care. The staff there aren't that friendly.” He’d rather DIE than admit he’s jealous. He might even crash this car right now if you decide to push it. He’d ask you to step out before crashing the car, of course.

“Sae are you sure-?”

“That place doesn’t have [favorite drink] right? Thought so. We should go to places with more variety anyway.”

Michael Kaiser

-You’re at his game, like always, of course.

-And like at every game, there is a kiss cam.

-See, Kaiser makes sure to get you VIP tickets so you don’t end up there.

-That fails when another VIP sits next to you, and the kiss cam lands on you both.

-The guy is already leaning in and Kaiser is already fuming.

Every player on the field actually stops playing out of shock. Considering the fact Michael Kaiser is the biggest opponent for BOTH teams. They all watch as he runs over to the VIP seats, jumps over the railing, and curtly flips off the camera and the guy. He kisses you, it's quick, but the stadium still erupts in cheers. “There’s a kiss for you.” He says to the camera, making another round of yells come.

“Micha, WHAT do you think you're doing?” You tell him baffled by the events that had just passed.

“Showing them you’re taken, what else?”

You now wear one of Kaiser’s jerseys every game.

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[girlyhornywriter]

Pushing her buttons...

Imagine having a button you could press that magically makes you fatter, by like +1 pound. That'd be neat, right? I wonder where you would draw the line and finally stop pressing it.

I mean, the first dozen presses would just be so you can test if it's actually working. One or two probably wouldn't feel like much, but by the time you hit the double-digits of extra pounds gained, you'd probably feel the extra tightness in your pants. Maybe your shirt would ride up a little bit because your belly and tits have grown a little bigger, but it wouldn't be anything *crazy*. Even after 12 presses, you'd still basically feel the same. Maybe your balance would be a little off with the extra weight, but nothing you can't deal with. If you put a hand on your midriff, you'd notice it bulging out more, and that it's softer and fleshier than you're used to, but all in a good way.

Being realistic though, you wouldn't stop there, would you? You've dreamed of stuff like this. An opportunity to make yourself *so* much fatter is just too tempting for you to pass up. Maybe you'd try to resist the temptation for a while, but we both know you'd fold under the pressure and start pressing it again. Fast.

You'd get undressed and stand in front of a mirror so you could watch your figure swell with dozens of extra pounds of soft, pale blubber. You'd hold your belly in one hand while you press the button with the other. Press after press, you feel it push out just a little bit further. It'd feel softer and softer in your hands as your gut grows heavier and jigglier.

Now you're thirty pounds heavier than you started, and you're *really* starting to notice the results now. Your belly hangs over your thighs quite a lot further than you remember, and your ass is looking so fat when you get a good look at yourself from the side. Stopping now crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it; your tits might be bigger, but they're not really big enough yet, and you're still only at "BBW" size anyway. You can handle some more pressing.

Click by click, you feel yourself growing heavier. Your belly has gotten so big and blubbery that it starts to fold into two thick rolls, giving you a definite double-belly that you can't wait to show off to your girlfriend when she gets home. In the meantime though, you keep pressing the button. You've lost track of the exact number at this point, but you think you're somewhere around 60 pounds heavier than when you started (it's actually closer to 80). You look at your doughy belly and thighs being groped by your hand in the mirror, and notice how much pudgier and softer your hand is starting to look. Nothing is immune to the weight you're piling on, and that just makes you even hornier. You resume clicking it.

Another thirty pounds make their way onto your figure when you stop again, this time because your gaze drifted upwards towards your face. Your cheeks look so much fuller now, giving your face a decidedly rounder shape. Your double-chin is much more pronounced than it used to be; your jawline is completely buried under a thick layer of chubbiness at this point, and you can't help but smile about it. It feels so good to be so much more... *plush*.

You tell yourself that you'll give yourself twenty more presses, then you'll quit. But once you get there, you decide... maybe just a few more. So you press it *another* ten times. Then you notice how close your breasts are to touching when you're sitting down, and can't help but want to see them finally become big enough to rub against each other as you walk. So you keep pressing it. Not really paying attention to the number any more, just to your breasts, as they get heavier and softer and rounder with every click.

Finally, it happens.

Not your breasts touching, like you were waiting for. The chair you were sitting on breaks instead. You hadn't heard it creaking as your fat ass grew ever fatter and heavier with every click of the button. It just hadn't crossed your mind that your furniture had already been struggling against your mass before you got this button. Now though, it had finally given up...

You decided this was your sign to call it quits - you should dust yourself off and think yourself lucky that you didn't do something stupid and make yourself absolutely massive. You drag yourself up onto your feet with a lot more difficulty than you expected, then push the shattered remains of the chair aside with your foot. You check your ass and thighs for any damage, but aside from the massive amount of extra cellulite now occupying them, and the angry red stretchmarks that have suddenly become even more omnipresent across your body, you seem to be fine. You look down for the button, but can't see it anywhere among the debris. You look around the room, when you finally spot it.

Your girlfriend is in the doorway, holding it in her hand.

"I like what you've done to yourself, babe" she says with a smile, her gaze travelling up and down your now much fatter figure, eyeing your new curves and rolls with glee. She licks her lips. "I wonder how you got so big, so fast, princess... Could it be this, maybe?" She presses the button.

Maybe you could have denied the effect the button had just had on you, if it wasn't for the fact that at that moment, the panties you had been wearing finally gave up, shredded by your immense girth with an audible rip and leaving you exposed to your girlfriend in more ways than one. The smile on her face broadens.

"I think I get the picture... Well, shall we see what this thing can do?" She starts clicking the button as fast as her fingers are capable of. Ten pounds, twenty pounds, thirty pounds, you feel your body swelling with the extra mass second by second as she starts to giggle. You try to run towards her, but you're far too fat now to move so quickly, so all you can do is waddle gracelessly towards her as she easily evaded your attempts to grab the button from her hand. You reach the doorway and look down at your expanding body, in awe at just how much of the weight seems to be going straight to your belly rolls. Your thickening paunch slaps against your thickened thighs as you keep trying to pursue your mischievous girlfriend. She escapes into the living room, and you follow her, your steps growing heavier with every click that echoes through your ears.

By the time you corner her in front of the couch, the click count must be at 250 by now, and you're feeling every ounce of the blubber she has poured onto your body. You're exhausted and breathless from trying to catch her, and she can see you're close to collapsing. She speeds up the pace of her clicking, holding the button high above her head where you have no hope of reaching it. You make one final lunge, hoping to swipe it from her hand before you're too fat to stand...

But you miss.

You lose your balance and stumble towards the couch, where you drop heavily onto the straining frame. Your ass takes up far more of space than you're used to and you sink deep into the soft cushions, hearing creak as it settles under your immense bulk. Your girlfriend stands over you, victorious.

"I think that couch had a max weight rating of 800 lbs, didn't it? Shall we test that?"

As much as you struggle against your own fattened figure, you can't haul your fat ass and gut off of the couch. You're just too heavy, and only getting heavier as she presses the button over and over and over again. Your thighs press together even as you try to spread them as wide as possible; your belly fills your entire lap and just keeps spilling out further and further over the edge of the couch; and your tits keep swelling too, easily exceeding G-cups in size with no signs of stopping.

Eventually, inevitably, the couch gives way to your blubber-laden body. You sink down even further as the couch breaks right down the middle, leaving you in a V-shaped dip, helplessly trapped by your hundreds of new pounds of fat and cellulite. Your hands grope your thick rolls of flab and you feel a strange mix of horror and arousal at how soft and jiggly you are now, *all over*.

Your girlfriend looks very pleased with herself.

"I hope you're comfy, big girl, because you're not going to be doing much walking from now on. I was always hoping I could get you to fatten up for me, to turn you into my stay-at-home piggy, too fat to do anything but make herself even fatter. It was always just a pipe dream, but apparently, dreams really *do* come true...

"I'll let you stay like this until I can find us a bed that can handle the massive whale of a girl like you've become. Once I've got you settled there though, I'm going to give this thing a couple hundred more clicks.

"You'll be so helpless and useless, but don't worry, princess. I'll make sure you know how much I love every single inch of you."

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY TWO: taking choso's virginity.

kinktober masterlist

virgin!choso who, at first, lied to you about the intactness of his 'innocence'. he didn't want you to think him unworthy of your body because he didn't quite know what he was doing. so when you asked? of course he's had sex before.

virgin!choso who knows you're not stupid, who knows you pick up on the way he mewls with white hot need every time a kiss turns to a heated make-out session. he knows you pick up on the hitch of his breath each time your hands roam over that delicate chest of his. he knows you know that he's a fucking liar.

virgin!choso who still doesn't come clean until one night when he's sure you're too needy to keep your hands to yourself. when you're laid underneath him because he's finally gathered the confidence to push you into the mattress of your bed, and your hands start to roam down to the waistband of his pants.

virgin!choso who is rock hard from a few kisses, and can't bear the thought of you knowing just how desperate he is for your touch, your scent, your whole being. so he pulls back, sits back on his heels as you sit up on your elbows to give him an inquisitive look. you ask him if he doesn't want you touching him there—he knows you'd respect it if that were the case.

virgin!choso who can't deny his want—who can't help the blush that colours his cheeks as he shakes his heads and manages the words to tell you that it's not a lack of want, but rather a lack of experience. his voice is small, delicate, when he tells you, 'I've just never done it before."

virgin!choso who can't figure out why you're laughing when he's just opened up to you. you're not laughing at him, he knows you'd never do that, but the sweet giggles that fall from your lips indicate nothing other than the fact you already knew. you tell your sweet boy as such, that you'd be concerned if he had been with anyone before you, considering the logistics of your relationship.

virgin!choso who, when he asks you if it bothers you that he's got no experience, feels his achy cock twitch in his pants when you tell him that it actually turns you on. to know you're the only person to feel him inside of you—the only one that ever will—is beyond an aphrodisiac for you. it only feeds into the possessive streak you have, and god does choso find he likes being the subject of your staked claim.

virgin!choso who decides he'd like to set the pace for his first time. which is more than okay with you, because god the sight of him hovering over you with his eyes squeezed shut as you reach down and pull his cock out of his pants is heavensent. he's unsurprisingly big, and offers to prep you with his fingers first, but you decline—the notion of taking your sweet boys virginity is enough to soak you.

virgin!choso whose vision blurs once he's got your panties pulled off and he's rubbing his fat tip up and down your folds, choked for breath at only a taste of your heat. his hair is loose, hanging over his face and falling into yours as he steadies himself above you—he's beautiful, his virginity in your hands, trust struck between you as he takes a breath and pushes into you, inch by gorgeous inch.

virgin!choso who has to busy his mouth with kissing yours, because his gasps come in quick as he bottoms out inside of you, pushes to the base as he tries to acclimate to the feel of you wrapped around him. you take him perfectly, and choso often wonders just how handmade his design is, but can't deny he was made with you in mind, what with how perfectly you fit together. he moans against your lips, loud and unashamed, because he's never in his life felt so good.

virgin!choso who reels when you wrap your legs round his wait, use your hands to grab at his shoulders, trace your nails down his back, grab his ass as he jolts into you. who, when he starts moving, can't stop. the drag and pull of his cock inside of you is hypnotic—choso would swear this is a cursed technique of yours, sending him dizzy after only a few thrusts.

virgin!choso who, understandably, can't hold on for very long once he finally finds a nice rhythm. he's sent so stupid with all these new sensations that he's a babbling mess, barely comprehensible as he complains about the taut band in his abdomen that's going to snap any moment—thankfully you're right behind him, the intimacy of cho's devout lust is more than enough to justify both of your early orgasms. you decide that his first orgasm with you would be a waste anywhere besides deep inside of you, and spur him on to finish inside.

virgin!choso who cries when he cums. hot tears prickling at his eyes, rolling down his cheeks in salty drops that you kiss clean. his hips stutter, and he's simply unable to keep himself supported above you—he collapses on top of your body as he twitches and jerks with rapt pleasure. you pepper kisses all over his face, from the tip of his nose to his fluttering lashes, right before you follow in his climax and tip over the edge yourself.

virgin!choso who becomes fearful of losing this sensation. who, once you're both back in reality, refuses to pull out of you. hopefully you can handle cockwarming for a long time more, because frankly, your sweet choso has quickly become an addict.

[baby-yongbok]

After Party

Bang Chan x Afab!Reader

⤷ The Fendi after party gets much more interesting after a few margaritas and sneaking away with a stranger. ⤷ Content warning - protected sex ⤷ WC - 1.1k ⤷ A/N - In honor of Chris looking so fine for Milan Fashion week that he broke my writers block. ✧ Masterlist ✧

You met him five minutes ago, not that something like that matters when he looks like a Greek god but it explains why his name doesn't fall from your lips as easily as you want it to. 

The Fendi after party was boring. Your manager asked - actually, begged - you to be on your best behavior and you agreed. 

Then you saw him. 

“Fuck… Chan.” Right, that was his name, yeah. The very hot stranger who you drank too many margaritas with.

“I haven't even gotten started yet and you're already moaning my name? Cute.” His voice caused a sugar rush, a high of heat and a flood between your legs. “Turn around”

His hands grip your waist, turning you to the wall and hiking your dress up. Surely the designer won't be too upset if it rips, right? 

Chan's hands smooth over your ass, landing a smack that's drowned out by the music of the after party coming from the left… or the right. It doesn’t matter. 

“You're gonna fuck a stranger? Are you always this risky?” The smile on your face makes him forge one of his own as he works to free himself. 

“I'm not.” He leans into you, putting one hand on the wall and trapping you beneath him so that your back is to his chest. His dick presses firm into your ass and the feeling makes you want to turn around and take a look. “I figured I should try something new.” 

He kisses over your jaw and takes hold of his drooling cock, rubbing it over your equally needy cunt. “Got a condom?”

“My bag.” He reaches over and opens your bag, holding it out to you instead of going through it himself. You chuckle. “Such a gentleman.”

He blushes, turning a pretty red as you hand him the packaged rubber. “Is that your type?” He rips it open, rolls it on and positions himself. 

“You're my type.” He pushes in just barely. 

“You're mine too.” He hooks his arm around your midsection, pulling your back flush to his chest and pushing inside on one smooth motion.

Your jaw hangs slack, eyes roll back and you stifle a moan. Chan's hand comes up to cover your mouth and your own hand goes out in front of you in an attempt to brace yourself against the wall.

“You’re fucking tight.” He whispers and you notice that his voice is somehow sweeter when he talks dirty.

“And you're fucking big.” His hips shift and you whimper. He plays it off, saying that he's average but there's not an ounce of you that believes him. 

The first thrust feels like you're being split in two. Maybe it's the position. Maybe it's the way he has his hand pressed over the plush of your stomach to make sure you really, really feel him. Or maybe he's just fucking huge.

But the second thrust? Heaven on earth and so was every one of them that followed. 

“God, you take me so well.” Chan groans and you clench around him. “You like when I talk dirty, huh? You like when I tell you how well your cunt takes my cock? 

“Chan…” He presses his hand tighter over your mouth. The drowned out sound of skin on skin is enough to get you two caught, your moans would definitely tip everyone off.

“You can't keep quiet, can you, pretty?”

He presses you up against the wall and moves his hand from your mouth to your neck. He doesn't press, he only holds you. He tilts your head back and meets your lips in a kiss while his hips press hard against your ass. 

You swear that you can feel him in your stomach. It makes you gasp and he shuts you up with his tongue. He slides it over yours, tasting the lingering flavor of the margaritas and humming into you. 

“Please move again.” You mumble against his lips and he groans, letting his own head fall back for a second.

“I'm gonna cum.” Chan's voice is strained as he whispers. “You're gonna make me cum already.”

You reach back, grabbing his hip and trying to get him to move at least a little. You need more. It's only been a minute and you're dizzy with need.

“Then cum for me, please I just want something. Wanna feel you, Chan.” 

He buries his face in your neck for a second, moaning and nipping at the skin a bit before pulling his hips back.

“You're hot when you beg. Such a pretty girl falling apart on my cock.” 

His hand is back over your mouth the second you whimper. His other hand grips your hip while you reach back and is balled into his shirt.

“Rub your clit, cum with me.” Your hand moves from his shirt to between your thighs. The extra stimulation makes you jolt and clench and Chan hisses. 

“C'mon, You're gonna make me fucking bust.” The thought alone makes you moan. Your orgasm is close, so damn close and you know that his is closer. 

“Gonna…” Your fingers rub faster, sloppy circles into your clit but that's not what does it. It's when Chan slides his hand down from your hip and over yours between your thighs. He presses down and bottoms out and you're done for. 

“Holy shit…” You gasp, breath stuck in your chest and your body tenses and writhes from the burning pleasure. 

All of that is enough to get Chan falling apart right after you. His thrusts get sloppy until he pulls out, jerking his cock with a groan and splitting into the condom. 

The two of you try to catch your breath, panting as the sound of the music from the after party catches your attention. You look back at Chan who has his back to the wall next to you and his eyes closed. 

You sneak a peak of his cock… How the hell is that average? Average for who?

While you're gawking he reaches out and grabs your arm, pulling you gently into his chest. The gesture surprises you but you go along with it. 

“You… have made this an unforgettable night.” He laughs, his ears turning even redder if that's even possible. “Thank you.”

“Did you just thank me after fucking me?” It's your turn to laugh and he joins you. 

“I told you that I don't do things like this, okay. I don't know how It goes.” 

You lean up a bit and kiss him, soft but still hot enough to make him hum with renewed want. Your kisses trail from his lips, over his jaw and to his ear where you whisper. 

“Come back to my hotel and I'll show you just how this goes, yeah?” He smiles, his dimples showing through the blush and he nods. 

“I'd like that.”

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