#one of you push me in front of a train or something

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[heesimp]

please never stop writing about heehoon omg

scenario for u muah

warnings: heehoon fucking lol, not proofread

Sunghoon and Heeseung, for once, have no plans for the weekend and elected to remain indoors for the sole reason of being too horny. They’ve been fooling around for the better half of this week when work isn’t consuming them. Sunghoon likes seeing Heeseung get his first taste of sex without girls involved. It’s like his own personalized porn fantasy.

Heeseung’s cock is pressed against Sunghoon’s on his bed while their lips lock in a battle for passion. Their bare bodies are warm to the touch on this Saturday night and both of them elected to keep their phones in the living room while they fool around in Heeseung’s room. Their cocks are hard and leaking, with Heeseung’s asshole lubed and prepped by his best friend’s tongue and fingers, and he wants nothing more than to feel his wrinkled hole stretched around Sunghoon.

“Love how desperate you get,” the younger boy mutters against Heeseung with a smirk on his lips. Heeseung jerks his hips until Sunghoon’s cock is situation between his ass cheeks. He can’t help that he grinds against Sunghoon’s wet, hard cock. It’s too sexy not to.

“You bring out something in me, I guess.”

Sunghoon grips Heeseung’s asscheeks and spreads them apart while he thrusts his hips to match the speed. “Can’t wait to fuck your ass. I’ll mold your hole to my dick.”

Heeseung grunts. “I wanna fuck your ass too.”

“You think you can?”

He rolls his eye. “You know I can. How many girls have I fucked in front of you?”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember. You like to fuck hard.”

“I’ll fuck you hard.” Sunghoon tuts.

“One day. But right now, you’re gonna ride my cock like a good boy.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Heeseung arches his back and sits upright while Sunghoon spreads his legs wider. He reaches underneath to find Heeseung’s hole and rubs the pads of his fingers of it until the older boy moans in contentment, his eyes finding Sunghoon’s before giving him a lopsided smile. Sunghoon sticks a finger in and watches as the boy on top of him loses his sanity at the pleasure of his shallow, soft thrusts.

“Ready for my cock?” Heeseung reached behind to pump Sunghoon, who’s wet beyond compare with his precum and the lube from earlier. “

“Fuck me, Hoon.”

Sunghoon pulls his finger out of Heeseung and grips his own cock, sliding the tip over his friend’s hole to gather the lubricant and spread it around. Heeseung’s brow furrows as he looks down and touches the ridges of Sunghoon’s chest while he feels his cock enter his asshole.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Sunghoon grunts as he pushes an inch inside. His tip disappears and Heeseung clenches his ass, which makes Sunghoon grunt louder.

The music in the background, the playlist Sunghoon and Heeseung put on when they’re hooking up with girls, makes them horny beyond compare. Sunghoon grips Heeseung’s asscheeks as the older boy starts to sink until he’s halfway full. He doesn’t dare to fuck Heeseung the way he wants to yet, allowing him to adjust to the feeling of a hard dick inside of his asshole. Heeseung jerks his own cock off as he slowly rises and falls onto Sunghoon, who looks up at him like a saint of some kind.

“Pretty soon, you’ll be able to take a nice pounding.”

Heeseung moans. “Want that.”

“I’ll need to train you first.”

“Fuck.” Heeseung lets go of his cock and reaches behind him to cup Sunghoon’s balls between his fingers and smiles at the boy when he hears him moan.

Sunghoon starts to thrust himself inside of Heeseung but keeps himself restrained for now. His ass is so tight and warm like something snuggling him in the best way possible. Sunghoon’s grip on Heeseung’s asscheeks makes it easier to hold him in place while his cock bounces in and out of his asshole.

“Filthy fucking asshole,” Sunghoon moans. “You like my cock in it, don’t you?”

“I fucking love it.” Heeseung squeezes Sunghoon’s balls, which makes him fuck into his asshole quicker. “I want you to use my ass.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me abuse your pretty hole? Let my big dick pound you like I want to?”

“Yes! Fuck.”

Sunghoon laughs incredulously. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

“Cum inside me.”

“Want a creampie in your ass?”

Heeseung nods frantically and holds his cock in his hand, jerking it furiously as Sunghoon continues to fuck inside him. “Cum in my ass, Hoon. Fuck, do it right now.”

“I’ll give you my cum. Shit, shit.”

The older boy feels Sunghoon’s white ropes release in his asshole and it makes his own seed spill onto his chest. Heeseung’s cum paints Sunghoon like a cherished painting to the point where it dips into every ridge. Sunghoon throbs within Heeseung and neither of them can complain about the feeling of fucking your best friend when nobody knows.

Heeseung rises until Sunghoon’s softening cock slips out and dips down to capture his lips into a soft kiss.

“We should fuck and watch porn next,” Heeseung mutters against Sunghoon’s lips. “You should let me fuck your asshole too.”

[leftoverghosts]

in the valley of shadow

hades!art x persephone!reader. past art x tashi.

"I'd rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else."

warnings: dark obsessive art ala hades. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. not beta read.

nori says: sfw—i know i said blurbs would be nsfw, but obsessive art takes a lot of me!! crazy to get this same quote for him twice, but i had so much fun!!! as always, xoxo.

word count: 2,000?~

You were twenty three, freshly graduated and just beginning to dip your toes into the world of professional tennis. The bright lights, the buzzing crowds, the endless possibilities—all of it felt like a dream. But among all the faces and all the players, one stood out to you like no other.

Art Donaldson.

Seven years your senior, he was a legend amongst Stanford Alumni and seemed to embody everything you strived to become. His confidence on the court seemed unshakable. Yet, there was something about him that held a shadow, a darkness that made you wonder if there was more beneath that perfection his wife demanded of him.

You first crossed paths with him at a Donaldson Foundation event—an annual gathering where up-and-coming talents like yourself were invited to volunteer with children who had an interest in tennis.

You’d always admired him from afar, reading about his triumphs, watching his old matches, and marveling at how effortlessly he dominated the game. But meeting him face-to-face left you speechless. His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see right through you.

"How’s it feel to be the next big thing?" he asked with a knowing smile, his warm voice enveloping you.

It was a simple question, one you could have easily answered thanks to your media training in college. But as you looked into his eyes, something inside you stirred.

“I’m just starting out. Still have a long way to go,” you gesticulated wildly, trying to appear humble.

He chuckled, a sound that was full of harrowing amusement. “We all start somewhere, but not all of us get to where we want to go.”

You smiled nervously, but the words stuck in your throat. He was magnetic. Something about him made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt before.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

From then on, whenever you found yourself in the same vicinity as the Donaldsons, Art would make a point to seek you out. Your discussions were never long, but they always left you feeling exhilarated.

When you won, his compliments were overflowing. But when you lost, his analysis of your gameplay felt like a puzzle, filled with subtle warnings. You told yourself it was just his love for the game and his drive to push those around him to be their best.

It would have been easy to romanticize his intensity, to make excuses for the way his eyes lingered a bit too long or how his questions about your career felt overly personal, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He was married, you knew that.

Tashi was always by his side, a constant presence that kept him grounded in the public eye. But there were moments when you could see the cracks in their united front. They manifested in the way he looked at you during the press events, or how he’d make a point of saying goodnight to you in crowded rooms when the evening grew late.

You convinced yourself that it was all harmless. That Art saw something in you, as a fan and a mentor of sorts. A fellow athlete who could understand the sacrifices, the pressures of the game.

He had a way of making you feel desired, whether it was a fleeting touch on your arm or a lingering look that made your heart race. You wanted his attention, and he gave it to you. But you were naive enough to believe it was just admiration.

It wasn't until later that you realized Art wasn't someone who admired from afar— he wanted to consume you.

There was a moment—a turning point—that you would look back on, your heart in your throat, wondering what you’d been thinking.

You were alone in a back hallway of a hotel during a tournament. Tashi was elsewhere, surrounded by other players and the media, and Art had found you, waiting for you just outside the elevator.

“I saw you play today,” he said softly, tenderly moving away the hair from your face. He was too close for this to be considered friendly, but you didn’t push at him. “You have something, you know. Something special.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush under his touch.

"With the right team behind you, you could be more than just a player," he continued, pressing you against the wall as his voice dropped even lower. "You could be everything. Let me help you."

It wasn’t the words that alarmed you. It was the way he said them, as if he had already planned your future for you. The weight of his gaze felt like chains.

“I don't need anyone's help," you blurted out before pausing to think. “I’m doing this on my own.”

Something shifted in Art's expression, for just a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. He wasn't just the fierce and intense athlete you idolized; he was human. “You don’t have to be alone.” He brushed his lips against yours softly, “I can show you how much more you can be. How much more you can have.”

And that was when it hit you—the real reason you were drawn to him. It wasn’t the tennis. It wasn’t the accolades or the fame. It was that, for the first time, someone powerful had noticed you. Someone who could offer you everything— success, the world, and something darker and more alluring than you ever imagined.

But before you could respond, before you could step closer to the edge of that precipice, a voice called from down the hall, pulling you back to reality.

It was Tashi, her tone commanding, and when Art turned to look at her, there was a fleeting trace of annoyance on his face.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered you a small, almost sad smile, and then turned to walk away.

You stood there, breathless, heart pounding in your chest.

You had slipped from his grasp. For now.

But you knew that Art was a man who didn’t let go easily.

And sooner or later, he would come for you again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The locker room was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Another win on the court meant nothing to you, as the weight of failure in your personal life pressed against your bones. Your racket bag sat slumped against the bench, abandoned like a forgotten piece of yourself. You rubbed at your temples, exhaustion and frustration clawing at you in equal measure.

“You played well,” came a voice from the doorway, warm and unmistakable.

Frightened, you looked up.

Art stood there, leaning casually against the inside frame of the only exit. He was dressed impeccably, as always—dark slacks and a perfectly tailored dress shirt you had given him, made him look more like a businessman than a retired athlete. His piercing blue eyes, with that gorgeous speck of brown, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

In one hand, he held a bottle of pomegranate juice— your favorite drink.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice clipped, though you already knew the answer. Art was not one to listen to mortal things like court orders.

“I’m your coach, remember?” he shrugged, stepping inside as the door swung shut behind him. “It’s my job to be here for you.”

You stood up, putting the bench between you and the man who you hoped would soon be your ex-husband. “I told you I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you anymore.”

If anything, your words seemed to amuse him. “You’re upset,” he said calmly, as though addressing a child. “You’re not thinking clearly. I’ve done everything to help you—your sponsorship, your career, your success. That’s all because of me.”

Your stomach turned, upset that you were unable to deny those words in their entirety. “You manipulated me. You isolated me from everyone who mattered. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“Those distractions?“ Art’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady, one of his eyebrows raised in question. “You think they cared about you the way I do? No one else would go to these lengths for you. No one else could understand you like I do.”

“This isn’t understanding, Art. This is control.”

“Control?” he echoed softly, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. He was a man full of contradictions—each calculated move wrapped in a smile. For every decision made without your knowledge, there had been a kiss or a whisper to try and soothe your apprehension. It had worked before, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn't work now. To him, this was a tantrum that he was tired of waiting for you to finish. “Is that what you think this is? No. This is love. Love that no one else will ever be capable of giving you.”

“I’ve heard this before, Art. You’re hurting me like she hurt you.” You did not have to say Tashi’s name to be understood by him. She had been the one before you, the one who had owned him, in a way that still haunted him, even now. The thought of her, the reminder that Art’s heart had belonged to someone else, made a bitter knot tighten in your chest. It wasn’t just about jealousy—it was about the fear that he would never truly be yours the way he had been hers. “You still think about her,” you accused, your voice trembling with inadequacy.

“It’s not her, it’s you,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m always thinking of you. I’d rather hurt with you than be happy with anyone else.” You sucked in a breath, upset that his declaration excited you and he knew—he knew the power he held over you, and he would never relinquish it.

He had already decided your fate. He was your captor, and you were his prize.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice fearful but resolute. “You can’t stop me.”

Art’s gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something crack beneath his calm facade. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a chilling certainty.

“Try,” he said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice, low and laced with menace, seemed to echo in the space around you. “You don’t understand, do you? This isn’t something you can just walk away from. Not anymore. We’re married.”

The words hit you like a thunderclap, the truth of them shattering the last vestiges of resistance in your chest. Art wasn’t just a man obsessed with you. He was a man willing to destroy everything in his path to keep you by his side. The world you thought you could escape to was gone. You were his wife, bound to him in ways you hadn't yet fully understood until now.

You frozen in place as he took a slow step forward, and watched as his gaze was drawn to the small but noticeable tan left behind by the missing wedding ring on your finger. His brand.

You could sense his anger just by the way his lips slightly parted as he reached for the bottle of juice and unscrewed the cap, taking a slow, deliberate sip before offering it to you. You gaped at the bottle in his hand.

A rush of panic flooded your chest, but before you could speak, Art closed the distance between you. His fingertips brushed against your cheek as he forcefully pulled you towards him, crushing his lips onto yours. The kiss was hard, demanding, as if he were pulling your very soul from your body. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you whimpered, caught in the web of his obsession.

The taste of pomegranate juice lingered on your palate, sweet but tainted, just like everything else Art had ever given you.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your skin. "We are one. As we were always meant to be."

Your pulse raced, heart pounding, as you tried to regain some semblance of control, but his grip on you was relentless. He wasn’t letting you slip away again, not after everything he’d done to claim you.

And with every second you stood there, you could feel the walls closing in, just like the dark, silent underworld that had already begun to welcome you home.

[alia-alia12]

By Chance

Part 5: Unsent Words

𖧹Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

𖧹Angst

𖧹0.8k

𖧹Masterlist

The soft light of early morning spilled through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, painting the walls in hues of pale gold. Birds chirped faintly outside, filling the quiet with distant melody.

But despite the peaceful surroundings, you hadn’t slept.

Memories of the night before tangled with distant echoes of the past, leaving you restless and raw. His name clung stubbornly to your mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

You sat up slowly, running a hand through your hair as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was cool beneath your feet, grounding you just enough to clear the fog in your head.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Old habits.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating just long enough to let doubt seep in. It would be easy—so easy—to look him up, send a simple message, or… something.

Would he even… want to hear from you?

Your breath hitched as your mind spiraled back to the last time you saw him.

The train station buzzed with distant chatter as you stood near the boarding platform, your suitcase gripped tightly in one trembling hand. The weight of unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest.

Satoru was late.

The announcement for your departure echoed through the station as your stomach twisted with every passing second. You hadn’t told him—not until the last possible moment.

But you hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

Suddenly, you saw him—rushing through the crowd, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Y/N!”

His voice cut through the noise, freezing you in place as he skidded to a stop in front of you.

“You’re leaving?” His voice cracked, disbelief and hurt etched into every syllable. “Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out. How could you explain?

“I… I didn’t want to make it harder,” you whispered. “Satoru… I had to go.”

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white. “You could’ve told me… I would’ve—”

“What?” You cut him off, voice trembling. “Wait for me? Drop everything? You have your life here. We both know long-distance wouldn’t work.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” he snapped, hurt flashing in his blue eyes. “I could’ve… we could’ve figured it out.”

The final boarding call echoed overhead.

You stepped back, blinking through tears. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

His mouth opened, but you didn’t wait. You couldn’t.

You turned, forcing yourself not to look back even as his shattered expression burned itself into your memory.

Your hand trembled as you stared at your phone’s blank screen. His name hovered on the tip of your tongue, but what would you even say?

“Hey, I’m back. Sorry for leaving like that.”

Pathetic.

He’d probably moved on—forgotten you, forgotten that day.

And maybe… maybe that was for the best.

With a shaky breath, you set the phone down, burying your face in your hands.

There were some things you couldn’t undo, some words you couldn’t take back.

And maybe reaching out after all this time would only make things worse.

Maybe it was better to let sleeping ghosts lie.

----------------------

The morning light streamed through Satoru’s half-drawn curtains, highlighting the clutter of books, old receipts, and discarded coffee cups scattered across his apartment. He lay sprawled on the worn couch, one arm draped over his eyes, as if blocking out the world could erase the weight in his chest.

But no amount of darkness could drown out you.

He hadn’t slept. Again.

His mind kept circling back to that night—seeing you across the street, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamps outside the bookstore.

You’d been so close—just a few steps away.

And he’d done nothing.

His phone buzzed faintly on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with messages he couldn’t bring himself to check. It was probably just Suguru. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

He’d been fine—or at least, pretending to be—until Shoko told him you were back.

Now, no matter how hard he tried, the memories kept bleeding through the cracks he’d worked so hard to seal.

The first time Satoru realized he loved you, you were already leaving.

He still remembered the sharp sting of the cold air biting his skin as he sprinted through the train station, desperate to reach you before it was too late.

The moment he saw you—standing near the platform with your suitcase, your face pale and drawn—his heart shattered.

“Y/N!”

You turned, eyes widening with something between relief and dread as he skidded to a stop in front of you.

“You’re leaving?” His voice cracked, the words raw and disbelieving. “Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The way your eyes dropped, filled with regret and guilt, nearly broke him.

“I didn’t want to make it harder,” you whispered. “Satoru… I had to go.”

Had to? What does that mean?

He clenched his fists, hating how powerless he felt. “You could’ve told me… I would’ve—”

“What?” you interrupted, voice trembling. “Wait for me? Drop everything? You have your life here. We both know long-distance wouldn’t work.”

Bullshit.

“That’s not your choice to make,” he hissed, every word cutting deep. “I could’ve… we could’ve figured it out.”

The final boarding call echoed overhead.

He watched helplessly as you took a shaky step back, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry… for everything.”

And before he could speak, before he could stop you—you turned and walked away.

The last thing he saw was your retreating figure disappearing through the boarding gates.

Satoru sat up abruptly, dragging both hands down his face with a frustrated groan. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

It was years ago. Years. You were probably living some perfect life far away, happy and settled.

And yet.

He glanced at his phone, hesitating for a long moment before unlocking it. His thumb hovered over your name—the only contact he’d never deleted, despite telling himself he should’ve.

He shouldn’t call. He knew that.

But the ache in his chest twisted tighter with every passing second. He could still see you, hear you, feel you—as if no time had passed at all.

The soft buzz of an incoming message snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Shoko: “Lunch. My treat. Don’t flake.”

He exhaled slowly, setting the phone down with a bitter laugh.

Reaching out wouldn’t change anything.

You’d already made your choice… once.

And as much as he hated it—as much as it killed him—maybe it was time he finally let you go.

[bridgyrose]

Neo couldnt help but watch as the new girl to Lady Brownings was being bullied by a few of the older girls. It was a normal hazing process, but something about the girl kept her intrigued. Maybe it was her silver eyes or how young the girl was compared to everyone else. Either way, she wasnt going to watch the girl be bullied anymore.

She got up and made her way over to the girls and pushed them away from the new girl. She put herself in front of the girl and glared at the others. 

“And what are you going to do about it, Trivia?” one of the girls asked. 

Neo raised a fist, then lowered it with a smirk. The smirk changed to a smile as she stuck out her tongue as she made a snipping motion with her fingers as she stared at the girls. 

The lead girl scoffed and walked away. “Freak.” 

Neo stopped and lowered her fingers, turning to the girl that she had just saved. It was almost like looking at a mirror and seeing her younger self. Scared, weak, out of place… needing someone to step in and help. 

She knelt down and pulled out her scroll, typing quickly before showing the girl her question. “Are you okay?” 

The girl flinched before looking at the scroll and gave a nervous nod. “I-I am. Thank… thank you for helping me.” 

Neo nodded, erased her message, and typed a new one. “It gets easier.” 

“I’m not sure it ever does. Its not the first time someone bullied me because of my eyes. They’re strange enough for the color.” 

A frown crossed Neo’s lips, familiar with what the girl had been going through. She still wore the contact to give her pink eye a brown color because of her parents, but hearing that another person was going through the same torment… this wasnt something she could allow slide. Instead, she’d be the person this girl… no, her younger self, needed. A mentor. A friend.

She offered a hand to the girl and signed to the girl. “What is your name?” 

“Ruby,” Ruby answered as she took Neo’s hand. “Ruby Rose.” 

Neo flashed a smile at Ruby, her fingers moving slower “I would like to be your friend.” 

Ruby smiled. “I’d like that.” 

Neo helped Ruby up and started to walk her to the dorm. 

The weeks went by and Neo and Ruby became practically inseparable. Neo helped Ruby study, train, get used to the etiquette classes… everything that she needed to succeed. A smile crossed her lips as she watched her pick up on her lessons quickly, and even more proud as she found Ruby quickly becoming top of her class. 

She lowered her weapon with a smile as she panted, glancing at her aura. Ruby had done better, bringing her aura down into the yellow and starting to see through her tricks. She started to sign, her fingers relaxed. “You’re improving.” 

“It doesnt feel like I am,” Ruby said as she picked herself up. “I still didnt win and you’re still wiping the floor with me.”

“I’ve had some of the best tutors to train me when I was younger, but you’ll get there.” 

“Then maybe I’ll get you next time.”

Next time. Neo paused and looked at her scroll, her fingers shaking as she held it. When would next time be? She was only here until she could find the time to leave and to help Roman. And then there was Lady Beat and that room she seemed to disappear to… so many questions that needed answers. 

Ruby put a hand on Neo’s shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Neo nodded and gave her a smile. “I’m not sure when next time will be. I will be going out tonight-” 

“Then let me come with you.” 

Neo paused. “Come with me?” 

“Yes, I can come with you. And then we can train when we have time-” 

“You’ll get in trouble if you follow me. And besides, what I’m going to do tonight will be dangerous.” 

“And I dont want to be left alone again!” 

Neo lowered her hands for a moment as she took a good look at Ruby. There was a sadness in her eyes that she hadnt noticed until now, not too unfamiliar to what she’d seen in her own eyes before meeting Roman. She signed once more, trying to understand. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Ruby looked away as if she wanted to hide the pain she felt, her body trembled as she held her arm to her chest. “Dad… wasnt given a choice. Someone from the village we lived in called to check in on my sister and I while he was at work. It wasnt something he did often, but this time was different because of grimm sightings nearby. Yang had been attending Signal and was trained to start fighting grimm, but that didnt matter. In the end, it was either we were to be  sent to boarding school or taken away from him. So, he chose to send us here. Until Yang fought back. She was taken away and I… I was sent here. To keep me out of trouble.” 

Neo nodded as she listened to the story, her own heart felt like it was starting to break. While it wasnt the same reason she was sent to Lady Brownings, it certainly hurt to hear what Ruby had gone through. She walked over to Ruby and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to comfort her, a smile crossing her lips. 

Ruby wiped a few tears away from her eyes. “Please, let me come with you.” 

“We leave tonight. But first, I have something I need to check,”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had happened so quickly, and yet, she had never felt so… satisfied. A year had passed since her family’s manor had burned down along with her parents inside of it, Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy had been shut down, and now she was free to be with Ruby and Roman. And yet, even in that satisfaction, she couldnt help but feel like something was missing.

“Roman told me I’d be able to find you here,” Ruby said as she sat down on the rooftop next to Neo. “We were supposed to train tonight.” 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Neo signed as she kept her eyes towards the city. “I needed to think.” 

“Think about what?” 

“What I want to do.” 

“I thought you already knew what you wanted to do. Its why we’re still with Roman, isnt it?”

Neo shrugged and looked over at Ruby. She had dragged her into a life of crime, and yet, Ruby didnt seem to look disappointed in it as long as it meant trying to find her sister. But as she stared into the eyes of her friend, of the girl she was starting to love, the doubts had started to fade. 

Ruby smiled and got up. “I know what’ll make you happy. There’s a dust shop not too far away that we can go rob with Roman’s help.” 

“Are you sure?” Neo signed slowly.

“Of course. And I can get some stealth practice like you keep asking me to.” 

Neo smiled and nodded. “Sure.” 

“Great! I’ll go get him!” 

Neo couldnt help but watch as Ruby jumped down the building, red-lined black cloak fluttering in the wind before she turned into a flurry of petals. Her heart fluttered and she stood up to look over Vale once more. There was nothing more that she wanted in this world than to be with Roman and Ruby, no matter what it was that they wanted. She shattered piece by piece with her own semblance, ready to meet her partners on the street. 

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Cigarettes after sex (modern!Criston Cole x Reader)

synopsis: Christmas is the season of giving and even though neither Criston nor you really celebrates the holiday, who are you not to give each other something.

warnings: drug use (smoking weed), making out, smut, pwp, fingering, 69, oral sex (m and f receiving), afab reader

word count: 2.3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @strangergraphics

The holidays had been a rather lonely time until a couple of years ago. When you had met Criston, you soon developed the tradition that for any holiday you would spend the time together, getting high off your minds and forgetting the rest of the world. Which led you to this day. While everyone is busy spending time with their families, the two of you had just put on a random Christmas movie that's cringe enough to make fun of and lit up the second round of joints since dinner. Leading to this moment.

This moment is what heaven must feel like. At least you are pretty sure of it as the smell of weed fills the air, shrouding the room in thick clouds. Its source rests between Criston's fingers. He has his eyes closed comfortably, breathing calm and deep, situated half lying between your spread legs resting his back against your front. Both of your eyes are trained on the TV, yet the movie doesn't register in either of your brains. Neither of you had the energy to make any comments about the main characters on screen. The fairy lights in the corner of your eyes have stopped distracting you long ago as well. The only thing that doesn't go past you in fact, is the feel of his raven hair between your fingers. Smooth like the finest silk, the dishevelled locks glide through the digits like a dark river. Curling it around your fingers before letting it go again only to repeat it in a different strand until his hair was just a bit curlier than before.

Your eyes, already half close as well, shut even further until it is barely distinguishable if they are open at all or not. In your lap Criston has begun to make a sound as humanly close as possible to a purr. A low rumbling breathing from his steadily rising chest as your nails run over his scalp. A sigh escapes your parted lips and is immediately met by one from his. Followed by the sofa and the two of you being shaken by a coughing fit wracking his body.

Once Criston settles back down, your hands immediately go back to his head. Nestled comfortably between your legs, so the two of you can go back to watching the tv. Distracted ever so often by the sight of the shorter, dark hair that covered his chest down to the waistband of the grey sweatpants that covered what lay below.

The strength to keep your eyes open much longer wanes with the calm moment and they fall close on their own. Just as they do, you feel the man on top of you shift again. This time to turn, laying on his stomach, hands holding your hips and chin resting just above the apex between your legs. Looking down to meet his gaze, you can see in the sparkle of his eyes that he wants to say something. However, it quickly gets pushed to the back of both your heads as you notice just where the warmth on your stomach comes from. Fanning right from his nose is his breath, warming the space where your shirt had ridden up to expose just a bit of midriff. Goosebumps spread over the skin there immediately and your stomach stutters under the motion of exhaling a shuddering breath. One of his large hands runs up and down on your thigh. Inching closer to its apex with every stroke. There are no words spoken between the two of you. In fact, you are sure that if you tried to speak the words would get devoured by the thick tension before they could reach the others ears.

“You look so hot right now.” Criston whispers huskily.

“I want you so much.” You reply in the same tone, slightly tugging at his hair again.

The action makes his eyes flutter shut and elicits a low groan from him.

In the blink of an eye Criston all but pounces on you. Crashing your lips together in a borderline aggressive with need kiss. It is all teeth and tongue, hands desperately wandering over the other's body. Grabbing at every bit they can. Matched perfectly until the two of you calm down and your hands find their place. One on his neck and one back in his hair, while his wander under your shirt to rest just underneath the hem of your sports bra at your sides. Even then the feeling of warm skin against warm skin and tongues lapping against each other have him whimpering.

However, the full extent of it only reveals itself to you when you part from him. Your eyes flutter open after a few moments, to see him looking at you with pulled together eyebrows already. His surprisingly soft lips parted ever so slightly, silently asking for more. Waiting for when you are ready to continue. The hand you had previously buried in his hair, lets loose of the strands to caress over his cheek bones and beard to lastly swipe over his lower lip.

At the same time, deft fingers push up your shirt, then hook into the waistband of your pants and pull them down along with the panties underneath. As soon as the clothes are discarded and you are spread out before him, to gaze at without being hindered by any fabric, his hands start to ghost over your entire body. Running over your breasts and teasing your nipples, down your sides over your soft skin and diving back between your legs. Pushing them apart a little more, he rubs circles into your thighs, only ever teasing your already wet centre with his fingertips.

“Criston, please stop teasing already.” You whine after a while and chase his fingers with your hips.

“I want to enjoy you thoroughly.” He whispers against the skin of your collar bones.

His hands continue their explanation further upwards, circling just around your slit. His other hand holds you down by the hips, to keep you from shifting too much. Making your back arch off the bed ever so slightly as two of his thick fingers finally enter your cunt with a twist of his wrist. Curling inside to brush against the spongy spot inside you and pumping in and out at a torturously slow pace. The sensation gets accompanied by the tingling his lips leave behind wherever they touch your skin to leave behind the marks of wet open-mouthed kisses. Wandering all over your collar bones and up your neck to the sensitive spots behind your ears. The stubble on his chin only adds to the exhilarating sensation.

“Fuck, Criston… Feels so good…” you mewl, running your fingernails up and down his back.

“You're doing so good for me.” He praises you breathily.

With a flick of his wrist, Criston changes the angle and pace his fingers thrust into you for his thumb to circle tight circles over your clit. He revels in your enthusiastic response of louder moans and more writhing, letting the warmth of the validation for his actions fill his chest. Just then you begin to clench around his fingers harder. Approaching the edge to your climax rapidly.

“I'm so close.” You whine, moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers to get that last bit of stimulation that tips you over the edge that Criston had kept you on.

“Just a bit longer. You look so breathtaking fucking yourself on my fingers.” He almost pleads in a husky voice.

Your legs come together to keep his hand right where it is. Moaning and crying out as ripples of pleasure run through your trembling body. Crying out at the empty feeling as the nimble digits pull out of your quivering core.

Your eyes meet and you can't hold back a huff of a satisfied chuckle. Watching closely as he sucks his fingers clean, moaning as the taste hits his tongue.

Once he deems his fingers clean, you get pinned under his weight.

“I think we should take this to the bedroom. Now.” You suggest in a breathy whisper.

“I think your right.” Criston agrees in the same tone.

Taking off the rest of your clothes and throwing them somewhere before he stands up. Pulling you along with him by the hands. In the same breath he pulls you into another kiss. Blindly the two of you stumble from the living room area to your bedroom. One hand outstretched as to keep you from running into every single piece of furniture you possess. Meanwhile, your other hand, with the help of one of his, leaves a trail of his Criston´s pants and boxershorts on the floor.

He lets himself fall onto the mattress once you reach your destination. Sliding upwards until he is situated comfortably. Then, with one hand at the back of your upper thigh he urges you to climb over him until your core is aligned with Criston´s face. There is not a single moment wasted until you feel his fingers part your folds and his tongue laps at your wet cunt. A shock is sent straight through your body from your clit when the tip of his tongue grazes the sensitive bud. The force of it sends you to prop yourself up on his thighs, not holding back any of the moans and whimpers that get pulled from your lungs as your head falls back loosely even further. Instinctively your nails dig into the muscular legs. The resulting groan sends more ripples of heat through you as the vibrations of the sound hit your body. The way Criston eats you like your cunt is his last meal on death row makes your brain go hazy with lust. Reeling even further at the way the wet muscle fucks into you. Still affected by the last orgasms you are on the edge again before you know it. Wetting Criston´s chin with your release soon after.

Your whole body heaves as you try to catch your breath. You tremble and your arms buckle underneath you, yet you are not given the chance to calm down as the dark-haired man underneath you continues to eat you as if he is starved. His glazed over eyes never leaving your own.

“Please. Criston, please.” You beg repeatedly, even though you aren´t sure what you are begging for.

“Use your words. I know you can do it.” He encourages you, though it is hard for him to keep his mind together in the face of the pleasure he is both giving and getting from seeing your reaction to his actions.

“I want to suck your cock so bad. Please.” It takes all but too much concentration to get out your wish.

Still your need is met instantaneously, by Criston guiding you to turn around and still hover over his face. With his hard length now accessible, you don´t waste any time either. Wrapping one hand around it to tug at it in the same rhythm he had reverted to eating you out to. Revelling in the whines and whimpers as your tongue darts out to tease the tip with kitten licks and tiny kisses.

“Who is teasing now, huh?” He stammers against your folds, licking a broad stripe through them.

So, you wrap your lips around the thick arousal, lightly sucking on it. A little more with every time you bob your head up and down until it is fully nestled inside of your warm mouth.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.” He groans.

As your hand begins to play with his balls, one finger not so accidentally ends up running between his cheeks and teasing the puckered ring of muscles, he begins to suck at your clit with renewed vigour. His tongue diving deeper into your clenching hole and his whines become more desperate.

You can feel the erection twitch. Encouraging you to go just a bit faster, as you roll his balls in your hand, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and more mewling moans escaping around the thick cock as the twitching grows more frequent. You can feel that you are close again by the tight coil in your lower stomach and you know you can´t hold back until he spills himself into you. The previous two peaks have made you too sensitive, too overstimulated. Yet you still try to hold back just a little longer, which only makes the pleasure more intense.

The waves of your peak pull you under with a force you haven´t experienced before. Ripping almost indistinguishable cries from your chest, your legs struggling to keep you up so you don´t suffocate the man below you with your thighs. It rips through you so hard that you only realise that Criston had also reached his peak when he had already spilled himself down your throat. Stuttering breathing and sensitive whines coming from behind you as he tries to pull away from your mouth, but the mattress won´t let him pull back far enough. For a split second you have half a mind to overstimulate him but quickly decide against it as you feel tiredness sink into your own body.

Rolling off his equally trembling form, you lay down beside Criston. Giving the two of you a second to catch your breath and collect your thoughts.

Once the two of have calmed down enough to expel the fog of lust lingering in your brain, you cuddle up next to each other. You look over to see a sheen of sweat cover Criston´s tan skin and giving him a glow that only makes him more beautiful in your eyes.

In the other room, the credits of the movie begin rolling. Looking at each other you bite back a laugh and dressed in nothing, on still wobbly legs, go back to the sofa. Turning off the tv and lighting a cigarette.

[kingkaizen]

oh em gee I just came across your kashimo drabble and I am going FERAL..nobody ever writes for him 😔

by chance could you possibly write a smut with him involving...electrocution?

∘ a/n: i am lovinggg this kashimo request <3 thank you for letting me write this. this is alot more pwp then i initially wanted so defintely let me know if you want more smut HAHA enjoy anyways sweetie

∘ ft: kashimo

∘ includes: fingering, TENSION

The training room was quiet, shadows stretched long under the dim lights as the clock ticked past midnight. Despite the serene atmosphere, you felt anything but calm. Sparring on your own for awhile, you’ve been attempting to hone in your technique, training tirelessly as the minutes ticked by. It wasn’t like you to be this distracted, but your attention kept drifting to Kashimo, who leaned casually against the wall. He hasn’t said anything to you, only watching with a glint of amusement, as if he could hear your thoughts right at this moment. 

Finally, with a dangerous smirk appearing on his lips, he made his way towards you. “You look like you need some help,” he said, voice low and edged. “Why don’t I show you some of my techniques? Maybe that will help you with your own practice, hm?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his comment. “You’re so full of yourself,” you turned to him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You stand there and stalk me, expecting me to ask you for your help as if you’re better than me or something.” 

Kashimo raised an eyebrow, a small hint of a smirk creeping onto his face. “Well, that’s because I am.” He began, “I could easily see that from the way you move. You’re not all that confident with your ability, but that’s nothing some extra guidance can't fix.” 

He moved closer, the air growing charged with an electricity that wasn’t just from his cursed technique. “I could show you,” he continued, his tone dropping as he held your gaze. “If you think you’re ready for it.”

Kashimo raised an eyebrow, waiting for your answer. There was no going back once he started; you knew that. But the lure of understanding his power up close—and the way he was looking at you—made it hard to resist. Slowly, you stepped closer, and with a steadying breath, you gave him a nod.

He moved like lightning itself, fast and fluid, until he was right in front of you. His hand brushed over yours, and he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “Good,” he murmured, lifting your hand to press it flat against his chest. A tingling warmth pulsed beneath your fingertips, subtle at first, but as he increased the flow of his cursed energy, you felt the hum of electricity begin to build.

Kashimo slowly raises his cursed energy output, letting faint sparks dance across his skin as he watches your reaction. The tingling intensifies, a warm hum that becomes almost addictive as it spreads from your hand and up your arm. His voice is low, guiding you through it, sensing exactly how much you can handle without pushing you too far.

With one hand still holding yours, he trails the other along your back, letting his fingertips leave a charged path that makes your pulse race. “Still with me?” he whispers, a knowing edge in his tone. He’s testing you, pushing just enough to see how much you’ll take, how far you’re willing to go.

The air between you crackled, the faint scent of him mixing with the heat of your combined energy. Kashimo’s smirk shifted, no longer just teasing but something sharper, more focused. His hand lingered near yours, the faint hum of his cursed energy brushing against your skin like a whisper.

“You’re holding back,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?”

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing not from exertion but from the way his gaze bore into you. “I’m not,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady, though the closeness between you made it a challenge.

Kashimo tilted his head, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. “Liar,” he said simply, stepping closer. The space between you was nonexistent now, his energy buzzing like static against your skin. “I can feel it. You’re scared to let go.”

You bristled at his words, a flare of defiance sparking within you. “I’m not scared,” you said, though even to your ears, it sounded more like a dare than a denial.

He laughed softly, a low, rough sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Then prove it,” he challenged, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lifted, brushing against your jaw with surprising gentleness. “Or are you just all talk?”

The tension between you was suffocating, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Instead, you met his gaze, your heart pounding as you held your ground. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

Kashimo grinned, leaning in until his face was mere inches from yours. “And yet,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your lips, “you haven’t moved.”

Time seemed to stop as his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up again. Before you could second-guess yourself—or the charged pull between you—you closed the distance.

Your lips met his, a collision of energy and heat that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but careful as he deepened the kiss. The hum of his cursed energy surged, mingling with yours in a way that made your entire body feel alive, every nerve alight.

Kashimo kissed like he fought—with intensity, precision, and an edge of unpredictability. It was electrifying, his cursed energy sparking faintly where his hands touched your skin. You responded in kind, matching his fervor as you pushed against him, unwilling to let him have the upper hand.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the charged air, Kashimo’s smirk returned, softer but no less confident. “Not bad,” he said, his voice rough, “but I hope you’ve got more than that.”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Kashimo chuckled, the sound low and rumbling as his fingers brushed against your jawline, trailing heat wherever they touched. “Oh, I will,” he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence. His eyes searched yours for a moment, as if gauging just how far he could push you, how much you were willing to give.

Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with renewed fervor. The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, his cursed energy humming faintly against your skin, making your pulse race. His hand slid from your jaw to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The sensation was intoxicating, the electricity of his touch mingling with the heat building between you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch felt like a jolt, his cursed energy sparking faintly as his fingers traced the curve of your waist.

“You’re full of surprises,” you muttered, your voice breathless as you tilted your head to give him better access. The words barely made it out before his teeth grazed your collarbone, the mix of pain and pleasure making your knees weak.

Kashimo pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk returning, more dangerous than ever. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, his voice rough, his cursed energy flaring for a brief moment, making the air around you buzz. His fingers trailed down your spine, leaving a charged path that had your body arching into his touch.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “But I think I’ve proved my point.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat when his hand slid lower, his touch firm yet teasing. The electricity between you felt almost tangible now, a steady hum that made it impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Kashimo,” you said, his name coming out as a breathless plea. He chuckled, the sound dark and filled with satisfaction as his lips found yours again, silencing any protest you might have had. The kiss was consuming, leaving you completely at his mercy as the charged air around you seemed to ignite.

Kashimo moved with calculated intensity, his cursed energy still humming beneath his skin, creating a subtle, crackling presence that heightened every touch. His hands cupped your face gently, his fingers brushing through your hair as if grounding himself in your warmth. His kiss was slow, possessive, dragging out the tension between you, leaving no room for hesitation.

You clung to him, your hands exploring his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself in the overwhelming wave of sensation. The electric hum of his energy surged through your veins, making your breath quicken, the intensity building with each passing second.

“Let go,” he murmured, his voice soft but commanding, his lips brushing against your jawline. “Feel it. Feel everything.”

You gasped as his hands wandered lower, tracing the curve of your hips before slipping beneath your clothing. His touch was both firm and careful, his cursed energy radiating warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“Please,” you whimpered, your voice hitching as he gently pulled you closer. “I can’t—”

But Kashimo silenced you with a deep, searing kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with possessiveness. His hand slid further, exploring every inch of your body, his touch demanding but never rough. The sparks of his energy felt like fire, creating an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and need.

“You can,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me take you.”

With each touch, his cursed energy surged, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain. You felt it—every jolt, every wave of heat and electricity—coursing through your body, making your senses spiral. The pressure between you was unbearable, and you could no longer hold back.

“I—” you started, but Kashimo placed a finger against your lips, silencing you once more.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “Let me.”

And with that, he pressed into you, slow at first, letting you adjust to the electrifying sensation of his cursed energy. Every movement was calculated, every touch gentle yet unwavering, as if he was savoring every moment. His lips returned to yours, the kiss growing deeper, hungrier, as his fingers moved within you.

The world faded away, leaving only the feel of his body against yours, the spark of his energy, and the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you both. He was lost in your gummy walls, loving the way your body withered against him. You were lost in him, in the electrifying connection that tethered you together, unable to escape the pull of his power or the need that burned between you.

In that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[sugarverse]

Synop: you and armin have to host the new years eve party this year, how fun could that be? (armin x black reader)

Word count 4k

Mentions of sex, but still a fluff/crack fic. the part 2 is at the bottom lmfao

sug says: ts is so silly LMFAO, if you’re trapped at a NYE party you don’t to be at, heres a good read!!

Why the fuck was it even an option to pick your house to throw the party?? You hated people. Even more so, you hated hearing drunk Eren cry to Mikasa about how sorry he is for the 8th fuck up of the week. Or Connie and Sasha scream singing Not Like Us since it came out as soon as any sort of liquor touched their lips. Or Annie's ass acting like her and Bert are too good to hang out with us. But won't stay at home when Reiner brings him out. 

Why are we bringing no-home-training niggas into the house??? 

You thought to yourself, writing getting a bit messier as you pushed pen against paper. You were making a list for everything you and Armin would need to get done before everyone arrived around 6:30. It was easier to buy certain things on the day of (veggies for example) so your fridge isn't so packed. Not many places were open past 5 so you were trying to remember everything as 1pm rolled around.

You tapped the pen against the counter top as you scribbled what else the house will need. Extra napkins in case Connie conveniently forgets to bring something besides alcohol, Water bottles, set sticky notes out for when people bring food, the whole shabang. 

Before you could voice how this was a lot and was driving you crazy, Armin was standing in front of you on the other side of the kitchen island with a nervous but curious smile. “Are you okay, y/n?” he asks, looking at the obvious annoyance on your face and the sound of pen scratching paper getting more aggressive by the minute. 

You set the pen down, quickly turning to him with a smile. It’s not that you hated them, it’s just that you couldn’t leave once you were tired. It’s your house and they don’t exactly know when to leave. And on New Year's Eve? Hell, You knew they’d stay till damn near 4am. This was one of those holidays where nobody gave a fuck about alcohol poisoning. However, you care about your carpet and your nice couch.

“Yes baby, I’m fine.” You shuffle on your socks to slide around to the side of the counter to give your lovely boyfriend a fat kiss on the cheek. You hold his face in your palms, smiling softly. “Just a little stressed is all.”

Armin studied your face, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “A little?” He asked, placing his hands on your waist to pull you just a little closer. He knew you like the back of his hand and clearly something was up.

You scowl for a moment, trying to make sure he wasn’t dissing you. You watch his lips flatten for a moment as he quickly spoke up once more. “I can see it in your face, I’m here to help, not harm..” You knew that, but sometimes it was hard to remember that. Even more so forgetting to ask for help. Before you knew it, he hugged you gently, rubbing your lower back with warm hands. 

You snake your arms around his shoulder, doodling hearts and stars against his back in return. “Just gotta get a lotta shit done..” You kiss his other cheek, seeing the smile creep onto his face and causing you to smile as well.

He nodded, hands sliding themselves up the underpart of your shirt. He continued to rub your back soothingly. “What else do you need me to do so far? I moved the card table into the basement with the extra chairs from the garage– I also made sure our car is in the garage so people can park off of the street as much as possible! I had to clean out some of the garage because–”

Before he could finish, you cut him off. “Because I don't want my house smelling like cigarettes or weed. ..Thank you sweetheart.” Now that was something you didn't have to ask for. Armin always tried to read your mind on what to do at least to take some weight off of your shoulders and you greatly appreciated it. 

“I guess just get these few things from the store.. We need some extra decorations if you can stop by.. Dollar tree or something?” You let him go, turning to read the list aloud in case you were forgetting anything. I guess now would be the best time to send him out anyway. 

“We just need a few balloons and I was going to get noise makers? I don’t want to pop confetti inside and its cold as fuck outside. I’m sure someone is gonna want to shoot a gun or make some kind of loud noise to start the year- Someone always does.” Last time it was Jean with the supervision of Marco considering he didn’t want any of the other drunks to do it. Jean could at least aim at the sky and not go overboard even with the liquor in his system. 

You look down at the list, ripping the notepad paper in half to split groceries from to-dos. “Welch’s champagne if there’s any left, I don’t think one bottle is enough. Mikasa doesn’t drink much, Historia hardly drinks, Marco doesn’t drink too much either– But nobody wants to sit and drink pop all night. I like drinking it because it reminds me of being a kid–  Dip for veggies! My God..” You quickly flipped the list of groceries over to write the kind on the back. 

You don’t see him move, probably because your brain was moving a mile a minute, But you do hear the noise of the pantry open and close which causes you to look up and stop listing things aloud.

Armin slowly brings out extra napkins, forks, and paper plates that all read ‘2025’. Even themed in gold and black like the previous decorations you had bought right after Christmas. “I bought them on my way from work last friday– I knew you had a lot to do today so I wanted to try to think of anything I could get to help.” He placed the bags onto the counter, also setting down red solo cups since they held more than any flimsy styrofoam cups. 

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “I also have the rest of those decorations you wanted, the streamers to go above the door?” He set everything out on the island in front of you.

You freeze for a moment before sliding on your socks over to him. You almost tackle your poor boyfriend, hugging him and kissing him all over his face. “You are my hero. I love you so much Armin Arlert you don’t understand..” You cup his face in your hands once more, kissing him as passionately as you could. 

Genuinely you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. He always helped, whether you asked or not. He cleans, he works and makes money, he is incredibly intelligent, loyal.. What else could you ask for?

His face lit up at your reaction, lapis eyes quickly shutting and hesitantly placing his hands on your waist to pull you a little closer. You still made him so nervous. 3 years seemed long, but you had just moved in together around summertime last year. Your sudden acts of affection made him almost standoffish, Which was never on purpose! He just couldn’t help but get his words caught in his throat when it came to you. 

You scratch at his undercut, pulling away to look at him happily. “I can set up decorations and shit while you go to the store. Thank you for always having my back baby..” You saw his woozy grin get even bigger, staring down at you with nothing less than love. You kiss his cheek for the final time, letting him go once more to set out the plates and napkins with the few you had bought.

“Alright, I’m going to take your car before I put that one in the driveway too, Is that okay–” He asked, moving to grab the keys that sat next to your purse. You were already standing on the counter, setting your blender on top of your cabinets for counter space. “Y/n!” 

He quickly went over to you, hands hovering to help you down if you needed it. You began giggling, moving the veggie tray off of the top of the cabinets since it wasn't ever used until it was time for a party. “Armeeeeen I have it, Go to the store in my car!” You feel him lightly place his hands on your calves, helping you down anyway. 

He kisses your temple, letting out a half sigh half chuckle before genuinely going to leave. “Okay, Okay. I love you, y/n!” He called as he slid on his shoes, putting his coat on as well. 

“Love you most!” You wash off the veggie tray, setting it on the counter and beginning to write sticky notes for where crockpots and other items should go. Your cooler was already out for pop and the bottom drawer freezer was cleaned out for the stupid amount of liquor that would be brought. You kept the napkins on the island, taking the bag of decorations to the basement and going to set up.

Armin didn't come back till around three, shaking off the snow of his coat as you went out in pajamas to help grab all the bags. He filled the cooler with ice, watching you wash the veggies and cut them with a calmer look on your face. He smiled to himself, placing in the water bottles and case creme soda he bought for everyone. Everything you needed to do for the house was damn near done which gave you time to do your makeup and get dressed way before anyone got there.

“Do you mind moving some shit around in the basement? I cleaned the bathroom and put new hand soap in there but I think the couch needs to go against the wall and I have to cut these stupid–” You felt the irritation and anxiety to get everything done creep up your neck, sighing and placing the veggies in spare tupperware, splitting them up with walls of celery sticks so it wasn’t hard to place onto the tray.

“I got it, y/n. Play some music and take a deep breath..” He stood beside you, attempting to study the features on your face before you looked at him with an almost worn out expression. You were running yourself thin trying to do everything, but music would help the time go by faster. 

“Sir yes sir,” You tease, seeing him shake his head with a small laugh before kissing your cheek and walking down to your furnished basement. You guys had a bar with cute little stools, a mounted TV, recliners and a dark brown u-shaped sofa. Armin made sure you got everything you wanted when you first moved in, slowly buying things with checks after the bills were paid. 

He never let you pay for anything besides the few times you snatched the check at dinner before he could. Even then, He sent you money when the laundry needed done and your dryer was ass. Or leave his debit card on the TV stand for you to get groceries for the house, to fill up your tank. About 4 months of being moved in, your house was full of comfortable furniture, a new washer and dryer, a subwoofer, a PS5? 

You were spoiled for sure, but he made sure you always got your way. It was hard enough getting you to relax and use your money on yourself since you won’t quit your job. [no shade, just knows he makes enough to take care of you.] So if you asked for things or mentioned you wanted something, he’d take care of it.

He made sure to rearrange the furniture for more space, leaving the card table near the adjacent corner of the bar so no one was too annoying to anyone watching the ball drop. However, most of the time when Armins friends came over, the TV had music blaring from it.

Everyone got there between 6:30 and 8 as assumed. You had made buffalo dip, letting everyone else figure out something different to bring a little before Christmas. Ymir and Historia were there right on time, Historia held cookies and cheesecake in hand while Ymir held a bottle of Everclear and a case of cherry coke. 

Then came Mikasa and Eren around 6:45. Mikasa had made crab and lobster stuffed mushrooms, holding a casserole dish full of them. Eren had a huge charcuterie board full of different cheese, crackers, and lunch meat which was also greatly appreciated. Connie and Sasha came in around 7ish, obviously already pre-gaming with an already opened bottle of titos, bacardi, and shopping bags full of chips and store bought salsa and queso.

“Who’s ready to parrrtayyy??” Sasha yelled as she walked in, Connie cheering to pack her up which followed with everyone else cheering. They were definitely tipsy, but Connie looked stoned off his ass and Sasha’s first stop was gonna be the kitchen no matter what. You snickered, helping the two with their bags and pouring the queso into a smaller crockpot under your microwave so that it was warm.

Sasha picked at the celery on the tray before eyeing the dip and quickling going over to it. Connie stayed in the living room for a moment, saying what's up to everyone before going to make himself a plate and setting the liquor in the freezer for now. No one else had begun eating until the rest of the food got there, but Connie and Sasha made sure to stay huddled in the kitchen corner so your carpet wasn’t ruined. 

Somewhere between 7:15 and 7:30, Annie, Bert, and Reiner all walked in with different items in hand. Annie held two things of paper towels, Reiner held a bottle of whiskey, jesus christ how much liquor do we need, and Bert happily held a tin casserole dish of taco dip. And finally closer to 8, Marco and Jean came in with extra cases of soda and extra cups. 

As everyone made their plate and caught up on whatever they had missed in the last few months, they went downstairs to the card table, bar, and coffee table. You had showered and felt a lot better before everyone had gotten there, smoking half a blunt to calm your nerves in the garage with your not-so weed smoking boyfriend.

It was fun to see his eyes become glossy and low after only a few hits. You two didn’t smoke together often, he was more of a drinker if anything. But you were stressed and it was cold in the garage so it’s not like he was leaving you out there by yourself! .. Plus it’d calm his nerves as well so why not?

Eren walked back up the stairs with empty plates, tossing them into the trashcan before carrying three bottles of liquor downstairs without a word. You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Connie and Armin meet him halfway on the stairs to help him carry everything. Mikasa stopped her conversation with Historia, leaning forward off of the couch as vigilant eyes squinted at the basement door. Was her boyfriend trying to sneak back downstairs??

“Did he just?” She got up, her/his jacket resting on her shoulders more as a cape than actually on. You nod, watching her follow them down the stairs and a surprised yelp come from Armin and Eren as if almost in trouble by their mother. You could hear music starting to play from the subwoofer, volume getting louder through the door.

You hung out upstairs, finally eating your food after talking to everyone and being forced to take at least two shots before eating by the group since ‘everyone was doing it’. Fuckin bullies.. Cocoa colored eyes follow Ymir as she snatched her own bottle from the freezer as if it was a trophy. “Cards downstairs, y/n?” She asked, smiling and opening the bottle before grabbing a few solo cups.

“Should be a pack of red ones on the table.” You spoke behind your hand, watching her smile get even bigger. She opened the door, stopping and holding the doorknob with the opposite hand before turning to her girlfriend sitting in the living room. “Please baby?”

Historia sighed in defeat, laughing a bit as a light blush laid against her cheeks from the few shots she had taken. She knew if she went they’d just make her drink more, but she decided to leave the living room and slowly shuffle on her socks into the kitchen anyway. 

“Let me make f..food first..” She giggled, sliding past you to get a plate and get herself some carrots and broccoli, swaying and humming to herself as she put some dip on her plate with a plastic unused spoon. 

Ymir smirked, half running down the stairs to see who wanted their ass kicked in cards. You look over to Historia, already looking at you with a happy smile. “Thank you for letting us all hang out here y/n, I know Armin said it first but I know it’s a two person thing.. ‘n your buffalo dip is soooo good!” She scooped some onto her new plate, having only really picked at the food earlier.

You let out a small laugh, leaning your back against the sink. “Thank you, I’ll make it again for the superbowl if you want?” She nodded happily, opening the fridge to see the fake champagne. She looked over at you for permission, not wanting to be bullied into any more shots by her friends, girlfriend and just fomo in general. “Yes you can take it downstairs, Take the rose one,” You slide her a cup, watching her happily grab the bottle and place the cup on top before grabbing her plate.

“Wait!” She squealed, setting the plate back down before turning to find something. She turned back to her plate, taking a carrot before looking up at you. “Do you have a marker?” You tilt your head, nodding and pulling one from your miscellaneous drawer. She quickly tossed the carrot into her mouth, scribbling out the word champagne before staring at it in satisfaction. She left the marker on the counter, bringing everything downstairs as she continued to slightly sway.

Eren, Jean, Connie, Armin, and Sasha were definitely getting a little too turnt the fuck up, you could hear them louder and louder as the music changed. Armin didn’t dislike rap, however he was sure as hell going with whatever shit Connie or Eren picked next. You could hear Reiner join in, Annie and Bert had walked down a while ago so it was really just you upstairs by this point.

As you began unplugging the crockpots so you could go downstairs, there was a commotion at your basement door. You open it to see Connie and Sasha drunkenly fumbling up the stairs to ask for you to make them plates because 'you do it best'. You didn’t mind, laughing and helping the two up as they stayed glued at the hip and didn’t seem to let go of each other out of fear of falling.. Even though it had already happened. You make sure to make the two of them big plates, turning with both in hand to see Sasha eating cheesecake on a napkin and with her hand. 

“Thmnak you *smack* y/n, this ‘s so good-” Sasha spoke, closing her eyes as she toddled back and forth on her heels. Connie laughed at how quick she was to eat, watching her turn and fall near the trash can as she tried to dunk in the napkin. You let out a small laugh as well, setting their food down to help her up. “You two go downstairs, I’ll bring them okay?”

Connie fell to the floor laughing, causing Sasha to lean against you in a fit of giggles as well. You glance at the clock, seeing it had only been 10:30. “Yessss ma’am!” She pulled away from you, pointing and laughing at Connie before heading down the stairs slowly and carefully. 

After his laughing fit, he held open the door for you since you were carrying two full ass plates. You smile and thank him, walking down. Ymir, Marco, Jean, Annie and Reiner were all playing a game of cards in the corner with a solo cup next to everyone at the table. You already knew who was actually drinking and who hadn't been.

You head over to the bar, setting the plates down where Armin was standing with his arms on the counter from the inside. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, quickly walking over to take a plate and set it on top of the counter. Sasha quickly ran over to start eating, Connie stumbling over to do the same. 

“There you are..” His eyes weren’t as low, but they were definitely glossy from whatever he had been drinking. He hugged you close, resting his head atop of yours and pulling you as close as he could. “We miissed youuuu..” His smile was loopy, looking down at you with eyes still full of love. He wasn’t incoherent, but he was definitely more clingy when drunk. Not that it was bad, you just had to make sure his friends weren’t aware of how handys he can get.

Eren was looking up different songs on YouTube, Mikasa sitting beside him and hiding a bottle behind the couch. You could see the reflection of light on the glass, watching Eren absentmindedly look for it before a small noise came from the TV when he did end up selecting something.

“I missed you too, my big baby.” You let out a soft giggle. Throughout the night you had smoked with Connie, Eren, Reiner, and Armin. Everyone else didn’t fuck with weed like that, Ymir, Berthodlt, and Jean smoked occasionally but their preference was mostly vapes and or cigarettes which you guys would smoke before them because the smell of weed is nothin compared to a fuckin cigarette. 

Historia didn’t smoke, Mikasa didn’t enjoy being high because it makes her anxious and Annie has this fruity flavored vape she hardly hit. But you were definitely still high. Armin didn’t look to be but he stopped early to check on the others so that probably is why he's more drunk than anything.

He pulled away, kissing your cheek and down your neck with a happy smile at the sight of you as you thought to yourself. “You look so pretty in this outfit, should let me take it off..” He mumbled into your ear, chuckling as he slid his hands under your shirt. You giggle, grabbing his wrists to keep his hands out of your shirt. He pouted as you spoke, eyes staring down at your lips as you spoke. “Hey, We have a room full of guests. Wait like.. two hours for me?”

Armin quickly smiles, nodding and moving to hold you by your belt loops. “I can wait forever for you..” He kissed your forehead, kissing down to your cheek and then your lips. You melt into it, giggling quietly and holding him close before hearing the Ad stop. There was only about 5 seconds of non-TV noise, but within so, you could hear Connie speak up.

“You guys gonna fuck right in front of me and Sasha’s food?” You pulled away, looking over at him with a squint and hearing Sasha die laughing. He looked at the TV in fear of looking at you any longer, sputtering and laughing as well. Armin’s face turned bright red, obviously starting to come to as he unhooked his fingers and sheepishly hid behind you despite being taller. 

“Shut the fuck up Connie–” You were cut off by the subwoofer going back to playing loudly with Eren, Reiner, and Connie all yelling.

“LISTEN TO THIS TRACK, BITCH!!” 

You rolled your eyes so hard they might as well have fallen into your skull, walking over to the couch as Armin held your hand and followed you. “Maybe we don’t need noise makers.. Got four of 'em right here.” You motioned to the people yelling, listening to everyone else who knew the lyrics also start getting loud. Maybe a few more shots wouldn't hurt.

here's part two! kinda suggestive but still crack/fluff for sure.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

[crippled-peeper]

I neeeeeeed to perish I think

[hopeinthebox]

i was tagged by the effervescent @cordiallyfuturedwight and i bow to her selections once again. magnificent stuff. somewhat delayed but tagging some favs @aprylynn @thvinyl @banghwa @yooboobies @pauls-mccharmly @kimchokejin @kithtaehyung 💜

[sketchy--akechi]

this literally happened to me, my bff went on in vague terms about akechi and shuake for like a year, then when i finally played the damn game he appeared asking sae for sushi and i promptly lost my mind

LMAO truly the akechi experience

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[tojisun]

simon grunts, his chest heaving as he palms at his chub, tracing the twitching muscle of his cock and letting out a hiss at the muted pleasure that razes through him. he shivers at the heated look you give him, your pretty eyes awash with desire, scalding as it trails down the lines of his bulk until it settles on his flesh.

“ah,” you whisper and simon nearly moans at the awe in your voice.

“s’right, baby,” he says, feeling the way he pulses underneath his low-hanging sweats. “s’all f’r you.”

there is a whine that drags itself from the base of your throat, so primal in the way it scratches your vocal cords, and simon has to fist his cock to stop himself from rutting against his palm.

“i can’t,” you whine, pouting, your eyes still trained on his groin. “‘m gonna be late for work.”

“please,” he croaks out, breathless himself. “how about jus’ the tip, love? jus’ give daddy a taste of you ‘round me, yeah?”

simon knows it is playing dirty to pull this card on you—to exploit your one weakness—but simon’s guilt is tucked underneath his stretching need, the desire bloating as it leaks past his rationality, leaving him with thinning restraints.

your sharp inhale is all the answer he needs.

he bites the inside of his cheek to tamp down the smirk dancing to the corners of his lips.

“okay,” you reply, tentative and quiet. “but just the tip, you promise?”

“swear,” simon murmurs.

like a goddamn liar.

he relishes in the squeals dripping from your parted lips, only for them to be muffled into your pillow.

he’s got you on your knees, your front all but pressed flat on the bed, your arms having lost the energy to keep yourself up as simon fucks you from the back. he’s got fistfuls of your ass, using them as sweet, sweet leverage as he manhandles your body back to his cock.

“so good f’r daddy, sweet’art,” he rumbles, his voice so deep it even sounds foreign to him. “so, so fuckin’ good, love.”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts; drawing his cock out slowly, deliberately torturous so he can watch the way your hole grips at his cock, not wanting to let him go, before punching it back in. he doesn’t stop and keeps pushing his cock past the gummy press of your walls until his hips are pressed flush to the fat of your ass.

then, he repeats the process—sharp snaps of his hips leaving you twitching, and simon watches with a crazed giddiness as your hands uselessly scratch at the sheets as though that could tether you.

he bends forward, his bulk covering your trembling body. “such a cute darlin’ for me, lovie.” he ruts his cock along a particular sweet spot. “say ‘thank you’ to daddy?”

he hears a warbled reply from where your head is pressed to your pillow.

“hmm? wha’s ‘at?”

simon cups a hand on your forehead and carefully pulls, tipping your head up just enough that he can hear you.

he hears a hiccuped sob, then, “than’ you, daddy.”

simon giggles and presses a kiss on the back of your head. “what a good doll y’are.”

something about that makes your body tremble, spasming in his hold, and simon watches with awe as your toes curl, before he has to let go of you at the sudden tightening of your walls. his eyes go white, his ears ringing with a sharp static.

he feels so, so overwhelmed at the expanding euphoria that washes over him, lapping at the synapses from the back of his skull to the cavity of his ribs.

“you came,” simon mutters in awe, his voice passing through his teeth like a gritted hiss. “christ, lovie-”

-

[amazinglyashy]

Too heavy for me? Never

LADS men reaction to you only somewhat joking about being too heavy for them

Sylus -

He'll raise an eyebrow at you, staring down at you as you realize the joke fell flat. You try to back peddle, not wanting to cause any confrontation that never helps you feel better about your body anyway, but he simply holds up a hand to stop you with a shake of his head.

"I don't want to hear it, sweetie. I already know the nonsense you're going to say. How about you just come with me right now to the gym instead?"

You don't know how to tell him that saying that truly shattered your heart into a million pieces, so you just follow him in silence instead. You didn't think he would insult you so casually, and you were now trying to brace yourself for the inadequate feelings and self-loathing you were about to experience by having to train at the gym with him.

But... he didn't ask you to do a workout. He didn't tell you to get on a piece of equipment or to lie down on a mat for a physical exercise.

He told you to sit on a small bench against the wall while he went to the free weights close by.

Wordlessly, he loads weights- two- no, three times your weight onto the bar, before moving to lift it. Once. Twice. Again, and again and again-

His eyes flicker over to you at some point, and instead of making any remark or reference to the emotions clear across your face, he flashes you a slight smirk, just like he always does.

"Have I made myself clear, sweetie?"

Zayne -

Zayne will definitely think you're just pretending to be stupid at first.

He will look down at you with his brows furrowed and a small smile creeping on his lips, thinking it's all a joke.

"I lift myself during my workouts fairly easily, and I am capable of lifting a lot more. Quite funny, though I wouldn't make this form of humor a habit. It isn't particularly good for your mental health."

Then he realizes you're actually being serious in what you're saying.

He's upset, to put it lightly, but hes trying not to let it show. Favoring a small frown across his usually firm expression as he studies your face. Your heart will jolt just a little bit when you process just how sad his eyes look though... obviously he's hurt that you would even think something like that about yourself, much less come to believe it as true.

"Allowing a part of your brain to lie to you is not healthy if you don't push back with the truth. And the truth here, is that you are nowhere near too heavy for me to lift or carrying, even for prolonged periods of time. To demonstrate-"

And like it's nothing, he's picking you up and carrying you. His destination is not important, and the protests spewing from your lips fall on deaf ears as you try to gentle squirm out of his grasp. He'll continue to explain why your viewpoint is flawed, methodically and with logic, and in a way that you find yourself unable to argue back.

He doesn't want you to.

He knows you're wrong, and he will stop at nothing to prove it.

Xavier -

He's more surprised at the statement than anything. At first, he thinks you're making a jab at his strength, and wonders if he slipped up in front of one too many Wanderers and now needs to prove himself just to get you to stop teasing him for being 'weak'.

Once he (quickly) realizes that you're talking about yourself, jabbing at your own body and state, rather than at him, it's like a spark igniting in him.

"What? What would ever make you think that? No- that's not right. That's not right at all."

He's immediately going to try and grab you to lift you up, he doesn't care where you both are or what you're doing. Even if you've just woken up in bed and are still relaxing, he's trying to pick you up right then and there.

He stumbles trying to lift you, falling backward onto the pile of blankets and plushies that has taken over his bed. He feels awful, worried that you'll take his misstep as him falling over from your weight, immediately apologizing and trying to sit up and pick you up again before falling forward from the plush surface he's trying to rise on giving out too much beneath him.

You're both a giggling mess by then, and it's obvious to you that he's going to keep trying to prove it to you, just... a bit clumsily so. Several more attempts will be made as the evening goes on, and pretty soon he's showing you just how easily it is for him to lift you up- especially if he keeps doing it over and over and over again.

And he will continue to do it over and over and over again, even after today. As many times as it takes.

Rafayel -

You definitely made a mistake saying anything self-depreciating around him. Especially with how much he likes to prove you wrong in playful situations, this is something similar, but a lot more serious to him.

He'll make fun of you for anything, as long as you know he's just being lighthearted even if he's grumpy or upset when he fires a quip off at you.

But the second you agree with him, or say something bad about yourself- whether jokingly or dead serious- the gloves are off. He won't accept that from you, and he's already on it to figure out how to turn the opinion you've formed of yourself on it's head and into a more positive outlook.

Lifts you up bridal carry while spinning- quite literally sweeping you off your feet while he whisks you away. You would think you were a princess with how he spins around his studio with you in his arms, with no regard to the paintings or projects around him as he dances with you in his arms. And no matter how hard you protest, he doesn't stop until he feels for himself that he's done enough, giggling the entire time.

"Are you really going to doubt a sea god's strength? Geez, I didn't realize you were such a rude human."

He'll hold you up enough to press his forehead against yours, nuzzling against you with a smile, the slightest sadness playing across his expression.

"Man, I must be pretty lousy that you would ever think something like that about yourself. That must mean I don't think to pick you up enough like you deserve. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you by whisking you away every chance I see you from now on."

[running-with-kn1ves]

Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 

Antoine shook your shoulders. 

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 

“O-okay.. I guess..” 

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 

“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 

 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you.