#sorry anon it's been so long since I had an ask I forgot this one was here

[artblock-tm]

Your Oc Hair remind me of Shezow

yeah okay I can see that

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Sunday spreads his wings for the first time in years.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 3.8k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : sorry for the later update yall, i had to study for a math placement test and write scholarship essays 😭 more emotionally packed chapter this time because apparently i can't go on too long without sunday suffering. its not that bad tho. have fun, and thank you to @vxnuslogy for betareading this chapter for me !!

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Unnaturally-colored lights illuminate your face in an eerie glow. All that can be heard in your dark office are the small clicks of your digital keyboard as you type and the soft tunes of your computer.

Holding out your hand, you extract some of the stolen medicine from your inventory and throw them into your synthesizer with an effortless wave. Your fingers tap against the table in small, repetitive motions as you idly watch the drugs separating into their basic chemical compositions.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve returned from Euphrosyne.

Shortly after Sunday’s first robbery (with heavy quotation marks), he’d dragged you into a cosmetics store in order to ransack it of its skincare products. Now, you weren’t completely clueless, but some of the things he picked out you didn’t even know existed - and you stole drugs on the basis.

You wince at the memory. Your wallet is still recovering from that escapade - with so many people in a smaller store, it was inconvenient to just drug them all, so you ended up having to pay the old-fashioned way, much to your chagrin.

You raise your hand to type a few commands into the holographic keyboard that appears beside you. The synthesizer glows, rearranging and recombining the chemicals until a completely new drug is born.

Sunday’s probably in his room right now, putting away the gifts you’d bought him and no doubt eager to return Blade’s borrowed clothes. In a few minutes, he’ll come walking through your doorway for the examination of his wings.

His wings… The image of them at the clothing store resurfaces in your mind with a furrowing of your brow.

While you have a good feel for his personality, you can’t understand why he’d keep his wings like that. If you were a Halovian and had wings like that, you’d fly whenever possible. Wings like those are meant to be used.

After all, aren’t birds born to fly?

A high-pitched hum from the synthesizer snaps you from your thoughts. The new drugs float patiently in the synthesizer’s hold, awaiting your final input.

Ah, right. You almost forgot.

You walk over to your desk and down to open up a drawer next to it. Inside is your stash of sugar and various packets of artificial flavoring - ranging from typical fruity flavors to root beer or even coffee.

It isn’t like the Stellaron Hunters are made up of notoriously picky eaters (except for Silver Wolf, but she’s different), but you still like to add a little bit of flavoring as a final touch, just to make the otherwise bitter medicines bearable.

Returning to the synthesizer, you unzip a bag of sugar and scoop out a cup or two and dump it in, along with a few drops of random flavoring you grabbed. With another quick typing, you assign each medicinal candy a flavor and an appropriate amount of sugar, and then it’s done.

And then, as if on cue, the familiar sound of heavy boots comes from behind you.  

You squint as you look up from your synthesizer, the light from the hallway blinding you momentarily.

“Must you always do your work in darkness?” Blade mutters as he steps into the infirmary. 

His youthful face shows no signs of weariness, but you can tell from his slumped body language how many hours of sleep he’d gotten - which is to say, zero.

You shrug, taking the finished candies from the synthesizer. “It helps me concentrate.”

A ragged sigh emits from your senior. “If you wish to blind yourself so soon, my sword is a faster option.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you chuckle. “Besides, a little eye problem isn't anything I can't bounce back from.”

Blade’s gaze is piercing as he stares at you, the slightest narrowing of his eyes revealing his disapproval. “Your constitution does not warrant recklessness.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “Don't act like you're worried about me.”

He scoffs. Turning his head, the conversation ends there, leaving empty space behind. The silence isn’t unbearable; with Blade, things have always been this way, but there's an unmistakable tension in the air that you don't care enough to dispel.

You drop half of the candies into a jar before sliding said jar towards Blade.

“That should be enough for a month or so,” you say, leaning your elbows against the counter. “But don’t overdose, okay? Only use them when the mara becomes too much.”

Blade takes the jar without so much as a second glance. “I am aware.”

The shadow he casts as he leaves feels taller and more imposing than it should be. It catches the tip of your shoe, and you subtly take a step back.

The second Blade’s silhouette leaves your sight, a heavy sigh sags your body. Massaging your temple idly, you stare blankly into the light of your synthesizer.

“Great Mercy…” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “You just had to make it awkward, didn’t you? And we were doing so well too.”

You lift your head. Your vision feels hazy, and you don’t truly see your hands in front of you. The synthesizer’s glow blurs with the light in the doorway and the skin of your palms. For a moment, you are no longer in your office, but somewhere far, far away - a place you left several Amber Eras ago.

Inhaling sharply, you shake your head, dragging a hand over your face. Physically, it’s impossible for you to feel tired, but your mind is absolutely exhausted.

“That’s enough,” you quietly scold yourself. You roll back your shoulders and straighten from the desk, wiping your mind of any troubling thoughts. Blade never holds any grudges, and so neither should you.

Yeah… You shouldn’t.

You rest a hand over your heart. It thuds under your touch, still as frenzied and frightened as it was all those eras ago. Briefly, you consider ripping it out and growing a new one altogether.

“Mx. [Name]?”

A new silhouette joins the hallway’s light. You turn to see Sunday standing in the doorway, his expression candid - although slightly apprehensive. You wonder how long he’d been there - and hope that he didn’t see your exchange with Blade.

“You know, you don’t have to call me that,” you say, allowing your hand to drop to your side. Sunday blinks.

“Ah… I see.” He rests a hand over his heart in apology. “Forgive me, it’s a habit I developed in my line of work.”

Always with the apologizing, you think in amusement. “Nothing I need to forgive you for. All I’m saying is that you can just call me by my name, or whatever nickname you decide to force upon me.”

“A nickname,” he repeats. “Like the ones you call Ms. Kafka, and the others?”

“Don’t forget yourself, princess,” you joke, drinking in the way Sunday’s upper wings twitch at the name.

He sighs with a smile. “I was doing my best to.”

You hum out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not going to let you. Come on in, let’s take a look at those wings, shall we?”

Immediately the lighthearted mood is vanquished. The air thickens, becoming almost suffocating. Sunday’s smile falters, the glow in his eyes dulls, and he crosses his arms in a vain attempt to provide himself a semblance of comfort.

Fear flashes over his eyes, and then a steady, unwavering determination.

“Right.” He breathes in, the breath shaking in his chest as he prepares himself. “The wings.”

—

It hurts.

Sunday knows he should’ve expected this - he hadn’t fully extended his wings in who knows how long, but still, the pain that strikes through his body is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Even the fall of the Charmony Festival hadn’t hurt this bad.

His body screams at him to stop, but the stretch is as painful as it is necessary.

“Breathe, princess.”

Your hand is an anchor at the small of his back, your palm flat against him as you aid him in extending his wings. 

In the back of his mind, he wants to shove you away, for his larger pair of wings are surely a horrid sight - an image of grotesque, mangled limbs flashes in his mind. But the pain overrides his need to appear presentable.

Sunday’s breath rattles - it’s a deadweight in his chest, pressing down on his lungs and heart and comes out as a wheeze.

“Princess, listen to me-”

Your voice drowns in the sea of his thoughts.

His eyes squeeze shut. In a seizure of ill-willed panic, he forces his wings to open faster, biting back a scream as the tearing sensation returns in full force. His fingers dig into his palms in an attempt to ground himself, but adding pain to pain does little to console.

His mind becomes a storm-wrecked ocean, waves crashing and beating at him every time he tries to surface. Horrid thoughts howl above him with the harsh winds, screaming at him to open them faster, to get this over with, to not disappoint you.

Water fills his lungs and he chokes, hands scrambling for any sort of anchor but finding nothing in their grasp. 

He’ll drown - he is drowning, slammed deeper into the waves again and again until-

Something grabs his wrist and pulls him out.

“Sunday.”

A strangled gasp shudders him. His eyes fly open.

The storm is gone. Replacing its howls is the distant hum of your synthesizer, and the dark waves are washed away by a gentle shadow. He sits no longer in groundless water, but instead on one of the two beds in the infirmary.

Your hand runs over his spine in a soothing motion while the other squeezes his shoulder firmly. Subconsciously, Sunday leans into your palms to stabilize himself.

He allows himself a few moments to breathe, gulping down vital mouthfuls of air. Like statues, his wings rigidly stay in place, in the middle of ripping themselves open. After a few minutes of silence, he finally composes himself enough to speak.

“I-”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off. Shame burns Sunday regardless. “Just listen.”

It takes Sunday a moment, one part because of his still-buzzing mind, one part another predicament entirely.

Your fingers linger around where the base of his wings are, in the window of the thin, long-sleeved shirt he’s thrown on for the examination. All of his senses are zeroed in on that small sliver of skin, tingling at the mere prospect of another’s touch - although he can’t tell if it wants or fears it.

“Sunday?”

With a start, he realizes you’re awaiting his answer. Heat rushing to his cheeks, he nods tentatively, signaling for you to continue.

“Your wings aren’t used to being pried open like that,” you say calmly. Instinctively he tries to find any hint that you’re annoyed, or irritated, or any of the sort. But he finds nothing, only a strangely secure serenity. “You have to take it slow; otherwise you’ll hurt them even more.”

Relief floods him when your palm lies flat against him once more. 

Wait, relief? Why was he…

“Focus on my voice,” you interrupt his thoughts before he can get too embarrassed. “I’ll guide you through it. Now, may I?”

Sunday’s lips part to ask just what you mean by that, only for his voice to lodge in his throat as you ghost a hand over the base of his wing.

Granted, his second pair of wings isn’t as sensitive as the ones that lie behind his head - thank Ena for that - but they still are more sensitive than he’d like to admit. Allowing you, who he’s known for a little more than a day, to touch them… even if this is a medical necessity, he still finds himself a bit wary.

“May I ask what you’re planning to do, first?” he asks quietly, turning slightly so that he can glimpse at your face.

“Remember what I did back on Euphrosyne, with the clerk?” you reassuringly squeeze his shoulder one last time before hovering both of your hands over the base of his wings.

Sunday remembers the scene at the clinic. “Your lollipop, you mean?”

You chuckle. “That too. But no, I meant what happened after the lollipop - when the clerk hit their head.”

“Ah.” Sunday’s wings rustle. “That healing ability of yours. You intend to use it on my wings?”

“Bingo. You hurt them a bit in that frenzy just now, so I need to repair that. It’ll also make the stretch much easier.”

That makes sense, Sunday thinks. But there’s one thing he’s slightly worried about.

“Is touching my wings necessary for this procedure?”

You hum. “Not really, although it’d be more efficient if I did. If I handle your wings directly, I can further aid you in extending them and more accurately heal them when needed. Would you rather I didn’t?”

If it were any other person - save for perhaps Robin and his adoptive father, Sunday would’ve said yes right away. A Halovian’s wings were one of the most intimate parts of them, especially the ones that extend from their nape. Only close friends, family, and romantic partners were allowed to touch them.

But the more he thinks, the more he realizes that he doesn’t feel as inclined to those traditions with you. There’s something about you that puts him at ease, much to his chagrin.

For some bewildering reason, he trusts you.

It’s just a medicinal procedure, he tells himself.

���No, I don’t mind,” Sunday finally says, turning his back. “Do what you must, doctor.”

He hears an amused hum from behind. “Alright, princess. Follow my lead.”

Sunday lets his eyes flutter close. He feels your hands lay gentle on his wings, the touch sending tingles of static up and down. It’s almost ticklish, but it isn’t unpleasant.

Warmth blooms at the curve of his wings, ebbing away the pain and leaving him with an almost refreshed feeling, as if stepping out of a dark forest into a sunlit meadow. He realizes that it’s your ability at work. Slowly, his shoulders droop, and his muscles relax.

Then he feels your hands slide up his wings, applying pressure every so often like a massage, correcting the kinks in his bones and healing whenever needed.

His breath hitches at the feeling. A pleased hum begins to vibrate in his chest like static as he loses himself to the dream-like feeling.

Vaguely, he hears you instruct him to open and close his wings, and he listens, easing them open at a gradual pace. The hum in his chest increases in magnitude, his back arching slightly as his wings extend to their full length.

He sighs in satisfaction once the stretch is complete and the tips of his feathers brush against the ceiling in a veil of midnight blue.

“Someone looks happy,” you say. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”

Your voice comes from a higher place than before, making Sunday look up. You smile down at him, hand resting gently on the bend of his left wing.

His left wing…

His serene expression falters. Carefully, he folds that wing in front of him and takes the dark plumage in his hands. Running his fingers amongst the feathers, he stops with narrowed eyes at the feeling of a sudden edge in the sea of softness.

Just as before, his left wing’s flight feathers are still cut short, snipped so that he may never take to the skies.

This time, he had been the one to cut them - Gopher Wood needn’t be bothered with such trivial matters, especially after Sunday had become an adult. But he remembers his first cutting well - the sheen of the scissors, the iron grip on his wings, the fear he’d felt, all in the past but not truly left behind.

“They’ll grow back.”

Sunday glances up.

“I know.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, not even to himself. But what he wants to convince himself of, he doesn’t know.

Sunday lets go of his wing and lets it hang comfortably at his side. You slide off the bed behind him and pull up your office chair. Sitting on it with your chest against the back, you roll back in front of him.

“Try flapping them,” you say. “Slowly, just open and close until you get used to the feeling.”

Sunday obliges. The wings are larger and heavier than he expects, and it’s a bit of a struggle, but he manages. Winds spurs from every flap of his wings, rustling your hair each time.

“No pain?” you prompt, raising a hand to summon a screen and type some things onto it. Sunday shakes his head.

“No.” He flaps one more time just to make sure, but he feels nothing, only his wings’ new weight.

“Good.” You type a bit more before closing the window. “I wouldn’t try flying just yet - especially with those clipped feathers, but we can start out with a few exercises every day to strengthen them. Kind of like physical therapy.”

Something warm blooms in Sunday’s chest. His heart rate quickens, and for the first time in years, he feels excited, giddy, relieved. It’s almost overwhelming, all of it. 

He flicks his wing again, and again, and again. A gleeful laugh bubbles up in his chest. 

His feathers tickle against his cheek, as if his wings are trying to comfort him. He smiles at the thought, despite how silly it is.

But then he remembers where he is. Heat reddens his face as he meets your amused gaze, his upper wings instinctively covering his face as he coughs bashfully.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”

“Aw, don’t get embarrassed on me now,” you giggle, not helping his predicament at all. “It was cute, watching you get all giddy.”

He half-heartedly shoots you a glare, to which you only smile calmly in reply.

“Are we finished here?” he huffs, eager to change the subject. You hum.

“Yeah, basically. I don’t have anything to give you, unless you want some of those sleeping candies I mentioned earlier.”

Sunday blinks. For a moment, he contemplates the offer despite you probably having only mentioned it in passing.

The nightmare from last night still hangs fresh in his mind, and his inability to fall asleep still bears its consequences - the reminder brings back the dull ache at the back of his head which he’d tried to ignore. Sleeping still scares him - if naturally induced rest brings upon visions such as those, he’d rather not sleep at all. But he is still mortal, human, and as such, he cannot evade his body’s needs forever.

Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want you to think there’s anything wrong with him to warrant such medications. 

Then again, you’ve already seen his wings.

“Those medications of yours,” he says softly, “do they get rid of dreams?”

You prop your elbows up on the back of your chair. “They do. Are you suffering from nightmares?”

He’s unable to stop the smallest flinch that confirms your speculations. You stand up, pushing the chair back to your desk.

“I get it,” you offer as consolation, although it doesn’t assure him as much as it piques his curiosity. “When I first came here, I had a rough time sleeping too. I only slept when I couldn’t stand anymore, and even Kafka was concerned - or well, as concerned as a woman like her could be.”

The synthesizer opens, revealing pre-made candies floating in its hold. Sunday recognizes them as the same ones Blade had walked out holding.

“When I found out Blade had the same problem - okay, well, not the same problem,” you correct yourself, “I started making these. After seeing them work so well on Blade, I figured I should take some too.”

Sunday tilts his head. “Blade has nightmares?”

“You can see it like that,” you say, bagging a couple candies with a wave of your hand. Thankfully, your hand doesn’t come in contact with the candies; otherwise, Sunday would leave them untouched in the corner of his room for all eternity. “But his ailment is far worse and more complicated than just that.”

Sunday briefly remembers the stories he’d read of the Xianzhou, including that of the curse its locals bear.

His gaze drops to his hands. “I see.” 

Sympathy tugs at his heartstrings. For a second, he is the Bronze Melodia again, listening to the plight of the weak with a careful ear. Now, Blade is by no means what he’d call weak, but knowing he suffers from such a cruel fate…

He looks over at you, brows furrowed slightly. Your back is turned, meaning he can’t see your expression.

Even the strongest have their vulnerabilities - this he knows well.

Then what does that make of you, who suffered like he did?

“You have nightmares too, then?” he asks gently.

“Had,” you’re quick to correct. “After a few Amber Eras, I got over them. I don’t take these anymore.”

There’s a clear edge in your tone that is chilling despite your otherwise easygoing voice. The message is clear - don’t push it.

Sunday tenses, his feathers bristling instinctively.

Right. He’s forgotten who you were - what you were. You may be kind to him now, but the two of you aren’t close, nor are you someone who needs his comfort. He is no longer the Bronze Melodia, and you are not his kin.

You’re a Stellaron Hunter - a criminal and a murderer.

You don’t need nor want his pity.

Your footsteps snap him out of his momentary moment of fear. You don’t look mad, or, well, anything, for that matter - just the same as usual. He could almost convince himself that nothing had happened at all.

The small mesh bag of candies is soft as you plop it in his palm.

“Don’t get too used to them, okay?” you sit down on the bed next to him, the mattress creaking as you do. He shifts his wing away so that it doesn’t drape over you like a blanket. “You can overdose on these, and it’s not fun.”

Did you know from experience? Sunday wonders, but decides against asking. He doesn’t want to push his chances.

“I’ll try,” he assures, folding his wings behind him.

“Looks like you’re already getting used to them,” you comment, leaning back onto your hands to look at his wings one last time. Sunday hums as you hold a hand out and run it along his plumage. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do Halovians purr?”

Sunday’s mind malfunctions as he tries to process your words. “Excuse me?”

You drop your hand to look at him innocently. “Back when I was helping your wings out, you were making this purring sound, like a cat. I don’t know if you noticed but I wanted to ask-”

His wing smacks you over the head in embarrassment.

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reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[your-nanas-house]

"Mr. Coleman said that..."

◇ Pairing: stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: kind of dark, SMUT, sessions, therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic.

◇ Summary: Austin gets bit lost in the feelings that the "bond" therapy gifted him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It took me so long, thanks for the kind anon that reminded me what Austin fic I wanted to publish. I think it's the very first Austin fic that I wrote... 🫣. For other fics like this.

A small click and the front door of his attic was open, allowing him to enter and finally drop down the bag he carried all day around... plus the new script.

Austin had been out all day and he honestly felt all those hours on his shoulders other than his mood. He really was tired but happy, since he was about to see his little princess.

As his feet lead him to the open kitchen he could already hear her soft humming, which informed him that she was busy entertain herself with something

"Hi stepdaddy, how was your day?" Her sweet voice beamed after his footsteps popped her little bubble of calm. She didn't look upset or annoyed when seeing him... which was a good thing since they had some issues when her mom left them both.

Issues that with a bit of father and daughter therapy should had quickly disappear... or so the man, who was following the process, had told them the first meeting.

"Bit tiring but... it was good. How about yours? What did you do while I was out?" Austin's low raspy voice asked as his hand removed carefully his AirPods before his coat so that he could focus his attention on her completely.

She was still in her cute pajamas, a silly one that she had begged him to buy her as soon as she finished watching one of the latest movies of his... 'Elvis' 2022. Reason because her pants were of a baby pink filled with pictures of the king, matched by a baggy shirt with the quote 'Keep Calm and Love Elvis Presley'.

"Bit boring, studied a bit... and nothing much, I cleaned the house though" Y/n informed him after taking a big sip of her tea, humming softly when the older man's arms wrapped around her torso.. hugging her close to himself.

"So sweet of you" he murmured in her ear, tickling her with his short beard as his face snuggled in the crock of her neck more so to make her chuckle before pressing his lips against hers for a quick 'hello' kiss.

His head now resting on top of hers calmly.

"Also!.. I need your help" Y/n hummed out, putting down her cup as her heart beat faster in her chest.. butterflies forming in her stomach at her stepdad's cuddles.

She could already feel his chest vibrating softly as he replied with his voice which became even more lower that it used to be due to the time and work.

"With what, kid?" His big hand ruffled her hair playfully while his body moved to rest against the table of the kitchen so that his beautiful eyes could stare at her as she talked.

She really was so cute like that, her hair bit messy because of him and the glasses she put on just when she used her laptop so to protect them. It seemed quite domestic... bit too domestic since his body started to react a bit, aroused by the innocent scenario.

And the cute mad face she made every time he would tease or annoy her, was so cute but also such a strong turn on for him... expecially those pouty pretty lips, now covered by a watermelon lip gloss.

"Do you remember what Mr. Coleman suggested?" Y/n asked casually, glancing at him with the face he grow to know as 'the testing face'; a serious but funny expression that she always used when she wanted to see if he remembered something or if he forgot about it.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Austin replied with her same tone as he put down the script, pouring himself a glass of water before sitting on the counter to look in her direction. She was giving him her back but he could already see the pouty face accompanied by a small snort of disappointment since he didn't remember.

"The bonding exercises, Baba!" She whined out, looking at him while scoffing softly at his amused expression. He really knew her too well.

"Of course I remember, baby" Austin lied as he placed his glass on the surface so he wouldn't look her in the eyes without distractions

"He said at least once a week, two is better though..." she repeated what their therapist said to them some weeks ago, her eyes looking at him lazily bit tired of her lonesome day. Even too tired to notice his stare taking her whole in shamefully.

"You know that I'm always free to spend some quality time with you, baby" he rasped out before clearing his throat and finish his water, his body warming up at the mere view of her cute behaviour.

"That's a lie but anyway... Let's start it, hm" the young woman murmured, pecking back as soon as he leaned down to steal a bit of love while picking her up easily and move them on the sofa in the living room where there was more space.

"What were the exercises again?" Austin asked, his hands rubbing soft circles on her hips while his eyes pierced intensely in hers the whole time she explained to him "The 5 senses exercises to feel more connected. Touch.. with the yoga, hearing.. by listening and talking, taste.. by eating together, and.. view.. the stare".

Those were all topics they had to go through in their therapist's opinion.. a way to bond with each other better and share some quality moments as father... even though he wasn't her real dad, and daughter.

"I remember perfectly now... and what was the last one?" He asked while playing with a lock of her hair, smiling slightly when her index finger pressed against his nose while talking "It's the smell... we have to take in our scent... and that should be all. So!... where do we start?" The young woman beamed, getting up from his lap.

The older man really enjoyed seeing her so full of energy and joy, it was addicting.

"Okay, little one, let's start. You can choose with which one we begin".

.

Her choose was quickly and he found himself warming slightly up to start the first step. The Touch.. aka Yoga exercises.

Simple but helpful positions they had to do together to feel the struggles and the moving of their bodies.

"Need to change! Mr. Coleman said that we have to be as bare as possible for this one." The young woman reminded the older man from the other room, busy changing into something to start the exercise and have yoga behind so they could relax.

He said that?, Austin questioned in his mind and raised his eyebrows... he really didn't listen so much when that man spoke with them. He clearly needed to stay more focused in the next sessions.

"You need to change as well!" Her sweet voice urged him as she was now standing in front of him in the set of underwear he gifted her that Christmas. Matching bra and panties which colors were identical to her favourite bun that she had used to tie her hair up.

"Sweet baby Jesus above, you are stunning" he commented, holding himself from just cursing in front of her since he scolded her more than once when some bad words left her pretty mouth. It had became a game of theirs just saying some silly things instead of vulgar language.

"It's the set you gave me!" She informed him with a smile, her hands busy fixing her hair happy and warm to start

"I know, little one" the actor murmured while still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

His body was reacting bit too much for his liking and he started to sweat a bit so he decided to get quickly ready and just move his hands to pull off his shirt and threw it away, exposing his built body to the air so that they could begin with the yoga.

Y/n was the first to lead and help, her smaller frame kept doing her best to keep up and help Austin while ending up most of the time just clinging on him like a koala or bouncing to reach his hands.. way too high for her reach.

It was funny, adorable and relaxing... till the sensations changed when he was the one leading the exercise.

"Baba! You have to follow my body" Y/n explained in a whiny playful voice as her young body bent down in front of him, her ass brushing against his crotch and then pressing lovingly when he moved on her, hugging her hips with his strong arms.

Fucking hot, he thought now that his cock overpowered his brain.

His breath became bit heavier while his hands massaged her flesh, he could have stayed like that all day... with his boner pressed between her firm and round ass cheeks still barely covered by those damn panties.

"Ready for the rhythm? Remember sync to let our bodies connect" she parrot what Mr. Coleman told them, making Austin curse internally since he had forgot about the movements... not that he minded though, since his worries disappeared as soon as her ass hit his half-hard dick.

His hips started to follow, taking the lead unconsciously, grinding his clothed cock against her soft flesh shamelessly.

"You got your phone in your pocket, Baba?" Y/n asked after a while, glancing behind to check on him, yelping softly when he moves her head easily by her chin. Making her look back ahead.

"Mhhm... focus, little one. Sync, remember?" Austin rasped out as his hips increased their rhythm, making her loose the balance she had and end up flat against the floor with him on top.

Her heart was beating fast and she couldn't deny that her panties were getting wet by his movements... she wasn't sure it was part of the exercises but who was her to correct her stepdad.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good" his low voice praised, making her maintain the rhythm and match his when his hips increased the tempo as his big hand, which was on her tummy, helped her continue it.

It was starting to get tired, her breath becoming breathless as she heard him grunting next to her ear.

"Austin, I'm not sure this is part of Mr. Coleman's exercises—" Y/n weakly spoke, letting a broken whine escape her mouth when his little finger pressed roughly against her clothed clit

"It's all part of Mr. Coleman's exercises to bond, baby. And call me like he said you should.. don't you want to make the sessions pay off?" Austin murmured huskily, inhaling deeply while lowering quickly his sweatpants and press his bare, rock-hard angry cock against her ass again, pulling the fabric of her panties so that it was stuck between her ass cheeks like his lenght.

"I said call me like Mr. Coleman said, little one" his tone became more stern as his hand spanked her soft flesh making her jolt

"Sorry, daddy! Sorry" she whined out, moving her ass up so to allow him to continue without interruptions... just like a good girl.

It was twisted but felt so good, so... damn good, with the soft skin of his cock caressing her inner thighs as he made sure to keep them closed so that he could fuck them. Hitting her clit with each thrust.

Her stepdad was dry humping her and she was loving it as much as he was... and she could tell that he was enjoying himself pretty much due to all the noises and praises that escaped his lips.

"Such a good girl! Fuck— fuck, fuck. Little one!" His horsed voice growled in her ear as his body shook against hers before something started to wet her thighs and panties. The young woman didn't had time to check before her own orgasm hit her whole and her back arched, a soft curse, which earned her a harsh spank, escaped her innocent sweet mouth.

"Language, baby... now how about we move to the food now, hm?" Austin suggested while massaging her warm flesh, moving his softening cock away from her shaking thighs.

[bones4thecats]

Whoops! I forgot to add an emoji, sorry!

I'm the anon who made the Record of Ragnarok request regarding a goddess of fortune and luck s/o. I'd like to be called 🐢 anon, please.

RoR w/ Goddess of Fortune + Luck! S/O

Characters: Poseidon, Qin Shi Huang, and Hades Requester: 🐢Anon A/N: This was a nice thing to write, each of them have their own story, which basically never happens anymore, lol. Anyways, hope you like this! And have a sparkling rest of your days/nights! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of death, insinuated assault, SWEARING in Poseidon's part, murder, blood, and slight description of death (tiny gore warning) ⚠️

Disclaimer: The Reader is a FEMALE and based on Yaoshi (HSR)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Poseidon ══════════════════════════════╝

🔱 You were his beauty to his beast. While that might not be physical on his behalf, his emotionless and cold demeanor made everyone, including his own family, believe him to be a devil in an angel's skin

🔱 On average, you would visit your believers in your temple, waving each ahead before gifting them with luck and a small fortune every time. But, as your reputation grew, so did your follower's egos

🔱 Poseidon was pissed when he found out one of your long-time followers had a son whom was trying to get into your pants so you would gift him with an unbelievable fortune and unbelieving amounts of luck just for being 'yours'

🔱 He decided to visit your temple one day, stabbing his trident into the stone flooring as he walked, alerting all that surrounded the area, and making them bow in respect to the God of the Sea. Poseidon just scoffed and kept walking, not giving any human any glance, they, in his eyes, did not deserve a perfect being like himself's attention

🔱 As he strode through, he found Aphrodite and Heracles outside of your temple, watching over the many children in the surrounding garden. They smiled as they caught Poseidon walking, as he just asked for your location

"Y/N went to her chambers with this guy... I think he said his name was... Dolion?"

"Yes, that was his name Heracles. They've been gone for about 10 minutes, I was about to send Heracles to check on them, but since you're here!"

🔱 Poseidon nodded and walked to your chambers, his trident making the same clack noise as he heard a man yelling at someone, which made your husband furrow his brows slightly as he listened in

"Get out of here, Dolion."

"Oh go fuck yourself, you whore! Just manipulating my emotions like that?! Making me feel such a strong connection just for you to take it away because you're married to that bastard, Poseidon?! How could you?!"

"Dolion. I will not tell you again. Get the fuck out."

"Don't tell me you never felt the connection with me, Goddess of Fortune and Luck? Come on, Y/N."

"You have no right to call me by that name. Do not make me kill you where you stand."

🔱 The sound of you screaming made Poseidon burst in the room, his trident pushing against the male's neck as you fell to the ground, your long hair pooling around your small frame on the ground

"You have five second to apologize, worm."

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"Five."

"Seriously, man! Who are you?!"

"Four."

"Oh for the love of Olympus. Answer me!"

"One."

🔱 You closed your eyes as Poseidon stabbed the man's neck, plunging his trident's three tips into the stone wall and causing blood to begin drip down the body of the now-deceased young male

🔱 Standing up and listening to your chain-wrapped foot hit the ground as you hugged Poseidon from behind, your grip tightening around his stomach, making him look back at you and breath out, providing your ears with the familiar echo of his breathing. He then grabbed your arm and wrapped his own around your midsection, keeping you in a protective grasp

"Thank you, 'Seidon."

"Hmm."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Qin Shi Huang ═══════════════════════════╝

👑 Qin Shi Huang knew that you and him being in a relationship was bound to start some kind of controversy within the Einherjar, as they distrusted pretty much any God they came across. Yep, that means they distrusted Buddha for quite a while

👑 You merely sat up with the rest of the fighters as Qin fought, and you smiled gently as Hades walked in, causing Leonidas to look at you with narrowed eyes

"What are you smiling at, Goddess?"

👑 Chuckling at his animosity, you reached outwards, pointing towards the tall, white-haired God of the Dead before speaking up again

"That man caused many issues between me and my old human friend, Tamaki. Honestly, seeing such an enemy fight against my husband is a fight I cannot tear my eyes from for a second."

👑 Kojiro smiled as you spoke, looking back down at the Emperor. He then looked at you and asked you how you had met the royal and gotten into a relationship, after all, being a Goddess of such a high-caliber in the Shinto Pantheon must have been hard to deal with a human

"It's quite the detailed story. But if you wish to know so badly, Sasaki, I shall tell you the shortened version."

👑 The others adjusted their positions to listen to you, curiosity spread through their tough and chiseled forms as you began to speak, recanting your love story with your husband

"One night, I had decided to take a walk through a garden, but this garden was owned by the Emperor's family. It was there that I noticed a young man walking around, a blindfold over his eyes, much to my confusion at the time. I walked to the man and asked him if he could see and needed assistance, the man, whom I later learned to be Qin Shi Huang, had merely waved me off with a smile before asking if I needed help since he never saw me around the building."

"Wait- he can see through that thing?" Buddha asked.

"Correct, Buddha. But, after I left, I had given him a peony and a orchid. The peony, in Chinese culture, stands for good fortune, while the orchid stands for wealth and fortune. I began to come by nearly weekly, which allowed us to grow closely before he proposed and we married. I revealed my identity as a divine being a mere few days before he proposed, so imagine my shock when he asked for my hand in marriage!"

👑 The others chuckled as you finished your story, allowing you to look back down as your husband readied his form for the fight. You allowed a single tear to fall down from your eye, but before it hit the ground, you picked it up and tossed it onto the ground, making a four-leaf clover pop up from the flooring. Grabbing it, you blew it to your husband, in your own, silent way to wish him luck in the battle for Humanity's safety

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Hades ════════════════════════════════╝

💀 As you pat the young deity's head, your husband watched from a distance. You had been bonding with Zeus' family a lot more after the birth of Ares, his youngest brother's oldest son, and after Hermes' birth, you had just doubled down on your Auntie-responsibilities, even as the two aged

💀 Hades smiled as you looked at the middle of Zeus' boys, using your magic to tie tiny golden fabric-strands onto his body, around the arm like a bow for Hermes, he lightly adjusted it to his style while you smiled and pat his head lightly

💀 Laughing as you saw Ares began to mess around with his father, Zeus, as he tried making a speech as if he was going to lead another army to battle, you gave one of the most beautiful smiles in Olympus

💀 Hermes then told you he needed to go visit with his mother, you nodded and allowed him to go speak to Hera. You then clasped your hands in front of your hips and walked towards your husband, stopping by his side and laying your head on his shoulder

"Good afternoon, my love."

"Good afternoon, my King of the Netherworld."

💀 Chuckling and laying his head on your own, Hades smiled gently. He could feel your welcoming and warm aura pulse through his own cold and noble one, and it was a feeling he didn't want to let go of anytime soon

"Aunt Y/N, Uncle Hades! It's good to see you both!" A voice rung out, snapping both you and Hades out of your peaceful moment.

💀 Looking back up, you saw two of your three nephews. Heracles and Ares walked up and shook their Uncle's hand while they hugged you delicately, making sure they didn't accidentally damage any of the golden accessories that dawned your figure

"It's good to see you both as well. How has training been?" Hades asked.

"Alright. Dad almost destroyed the arena last week, though." Ares answered while Heracles nodded with a tired expression.

"Well that sounds like fun, calming your father down and all." You teased, making the three guys smile and chuckle at the thought of Zeus acting like a child in need of discipline from his parents.

"Y/N!" Aphrodite yelled out, waving you over to her and her nymphs.

💀 You peered back at your husband, who just nodded and kissed your forehead, allowing you to walk over to your old friend. Aphrodite was excited about something, and he knew you were naturally a curious being

"You really love her, don't you, Uncle?" Heracles asked.

"That I do. That I do..."

[dokries]

that’s rough, buddy

pairing: kim mingyu x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, (a bit of) angst, established relationship

word count: 1.6k

warnings: miscommunication (everything turns out well!), mingyu’s just a little forgetful, seungkwan best friend, a forehead kiss

author note: this was requested by a lovely anon <3 again, i’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it 😭 i hope you enjoy reading, and lots of love (as usual) 🫶

masterlist

mingyu thinks you hate him, and it’s not just because you haven’t visited his apartment for more than eight days—though that’s concerning as well; you’re usually over within a couple of days, even if you’re busy, which he definitely knows you aren’t, considering how much you’ve been going out with friends, namely seungkwan and chan.

he purses his lips, looking up at the ceiling from his comfortable spot on the couch…alone, just like the last two weeks. his phone dings and he opens it immediately, a frown appearing on his face when it turns out to just be seungcheol asking if something’s up between the two of you—of course he knows; seungkwan never even looked in mingyu’s direction the last time all thirteen hung out together.

mingyu sighs, responding back with a “ask seungkwan not me” before opening up to the last time you had texted him. he had said he was busy back when you had asked if he wanted to go to a photography exhibition, and you haven't responded to his hurried apology.

maybe it’s time to say something…? he pauses before sighing again, going back to staring at the ceiling, hoping the little stipples above him will make a decision so he doesn’t have to.

of course, the only reason you’re avoiding him is because you think he hates you—which may be a huge overstatement but what else would you call it? it’s one thing to not have time for dates because that, at least, you could understand. maybe it’s just that you’ve passed your puppy love phase, and that’s alright; you’re both very busy people but…why is he ignoring you? that’s not the mingyu you know, and it’s been almost a year since you started dating.

the most annoying thing is that he probably doesn’t even realize your anniversary is coming up in the next few days—though you’ve stopped caring (the dried tear stains on seungkwan’s couch pillow say otherwise).

so when he texts you while you’re at chan’s apartment, you frown in surprise, catching the attention of seungkwan, who’s beside you.

my gyu 🥰 ❙

hey it’s been a while since you came over… movie night at 6?

you move to pull up your keyboard but seungkwan stops you by quickly pressing the power button before you can even start typing a reply.

seungkwan glares at you when you start to protest, and takes your phone into his hands to prevent anything happening, as if he’s your parental figure. “don’t you even dare say yes.”

“maybe…” chan sighs and rubs his eyes with his palms, catching your attention—and seungkwan’s too, as he raises an eyebrow at his best friend, telling him to continue. “maybe we should give him a chance?”

seungkwan immediately scoffs and jumps into a rant about why you should do the exact opposite of what chan’s suggesting. “chan, have you not been paying attention these past few weeks? that man has left our dear baby—” seungkwan moves to shush you when you say you’re not a baby, continuing once you press your lips into a straight line. “he literally left them hanging multiple times, and all he had to say was ‘sorry i can’t make it sweetie.’”

chan frowns, tilting his head. “isn’t that what you’re supposed to say to your partner if you can’t make it?”

seungkwan pauses, sighing. “well…yes but come on, he could at least offer to make it up to them if he’s done this like ten times! also, he definitely forgot about their anniversary, which is so much more horrible.”

as seungkwan takes a deep breath to calm himself, you correct him quietly. “it’s been three times.”

“what?” seungkwan looks at you exasperatedly, and chan giggles from his seat on the chair in front of the two of you.

“i said he’s only done it three times. besides, he’s been busy…it makes sense for him to forget.” you hold out a hand to stop seungkwan before he launches into another spiel on how mingyu sucks as a boyfriend so you can keep going. “listen, kwan, i think spending some time with him would be right…but i’m not ready for that yet.”

seungkwan bites his lip before nodding, his expression softening. “okay. as long as you’re happy, okay?”

you hum in agreement as chan stands up, clapping his hands excitedly, and you exchange a look with seungkwan.

chan grins, pulling out an uno deck from a drawer in the table beside him. “how about we play uno to distract ourselves?” he nods towards you before smirking at his other friend. “i’m sure they’d love to see me beat you.”

seungkwan raises an eyebrow before scoffing again, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “well, lee jung chan, you should know you’re totally gonna lose.”

chan scoffs, and as your best friends start bickering like normal, you smile, knowing they’re amping up the dramatics to take your mind off…whatever you and mingyu are right now. well, you could think about your boyfriend after beating both chan and seungkwan in uno.

mingyu’s been sulky all day, and wonwoo not asking him why isn’t helping the sinking pout on his face.

he stares unrelentingly at his best friend as wonwoo faces the self-help bookshelf in front of them, searching for the book he’s been looking for since they entered the small shop.

“why are you like this?” wonwoo eventually breaks under mingyu’s pitiful gaze and huffs out a breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning to his friend. “what’s wrong?”

mingyu sighs like he’s been doing for the past few days, and wonwoo puts the book in his hand back on the shelf, expecting his friend to not get to the point quickly (he’s right).

mingyu says your name quietly as a response, and wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“it means that they hate me! i don’t know what i did either…i mean look, it was pretty busy at work so i couldn’t go on dates with them when they asked but that’s okay right?” mingyu frowns and bites his lip when he realizes he’s a bit too loud for the bookstore.

nodding, wonwoo processes the information he’s just been given before he puts a sympathetic hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “good luck with that.”

mingyu scoffs, about to scold the man in front of him before his gaze drifts off to the bookshelf in the far corner, where the two of you had been searching for cooking books around the time you had first started dating, which was probably around…a year–oh.

oh, he’s so dumb, isn’t he?

“hm?” wonwoo says when his friend pauses, looking up from the book he just picked up as mingyu groans and puts his head into his hands, moving to rest against a nearby bookshelf.

wonwoo looks over to the cooking section and turns back to mingyu. “hey, isn’t it–wait…you forgot the anniversary, didn’t you?”

mingyu groans again in agreement, and gets a head pat paired with a “that’s rough, buddy” from his friend before he’s left alone, coincidentally, in the relationship advice section.

seungkwan sighs as he comes back from checking through the peephole of your apartment door, gesturing towards it as he plops down onto the couch. “it’s for you.”

you raise an eyebrow, getting up to open the door—seungkwan already checked anyway, so there’s no need to look through the peephole again–and come face to face with mingyu, the man you’ve been avoiding. “oh.”

the paper around the bouquet of white orchids in his hands crinkles as he shifts his weight, a nervous smile on his face as he calls your name hesitantly. “hey.”

you nod in greeting before looking back to seungkwan, who’s glaring at mingyu with his arms crossed, and paying attention to the man in front of you as he clears his throat.

“i, uh…here.” mingyu pushes the flowers towards you, and lets out a breath of relief when you take it gently from him. “i’m sorry.”

you stare at him. “for what? forgetting our anniversary? for not apologizing for so long?” you sigh when he remains silent, looking back at the clock in your living room. “there’s only a few hours left of our one year anniversary anyway…it’s fine.”

mingyu shakes his head, coming closer to grab your arm gently with a serious expression. “no, it’s definitely not fine. i hurt you, and that’s not okay.” he pauses, frowning. “besides…i miss my partner–i miss you.”

you sigh, looking into mingyu’s eyes, and you know he’s genuinely sorry. you break your arm free from his grip, causing his face to drop.

you place the bouquet of orchids on the side table, and call out to seungkwan. “hey, kwan? do you mind finding a vase for these?”

“i have to make the most out of these last two hours of my anniversary with my boyfriend after all.” mingyu’s face lights up as you take his hand, still looking back at seungkwan’s soft smile, which matches your own.

you give mingyu a pointed look as you close the door behind you, trusting seungkwan to keep your small apartment safe. “but first, we really do have to talk about…whatever the last month was, okay?”

mingyu nods eagerly before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as the two of you grin. “i missed you so much, baby.”

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[seonghwaddict]

say my name — song mingi

request by anon. "This is my first request to anyone ever so forgive me if this is..idk incoherent 😭. But lately I've been thinking about a short smut story where the reader (fem) being a backup dancer for ATEEZ and Mingi catching feelings for her over time and then end up fucking in the dressing room and maybe one of the members walks in idk have fun with it. 🤭"

idol!song mingi x backup dancer!reader. genre. smut. warnings. smut below the cut, explicit sexual content minors dni, fingering, some dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, baby), slight dom/sub dynamics, dom!mingi, swearing, intentional lowercase. please let me know if i missed anything. wc. 1.2k.

lilo's notes. i'm back!! this is the first request i've received, hopefully i did it justice. by the time i finished writing i forgot that anonie asked it it's possible for another member to walk in and join.... sorry about that. but anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this!!

listening to. perceive by doma cyno.

masterlist

“fuck, baby,” a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. “you’re so wet.”

you like to think your day started off like every other day. you woke up at 7 am, ate breakfast, got ready for the day and arrived at kq two hours later. you went through some choreographies with the other backup dancers until 4 pm, left to run some errands, and then returned to practice some more on your own.

since your first day at the company only a few months ago, you’d always take a few hours after your shift to perfect your art more than you already have. sometimes you’d spend those hours with the other dancers who showed up for the same reason, but surprisingly, a lot of the time it was mingi who found himself practising his group’s or his own choreography alongside you.

the first few times felt awkward, to say the least.

you yourself weren’t really one to strike up conversations with random people, and considering he was part of the group you had to dance for, you were afraid of slipping up and losing your job. but, eventually, he talked to you. after that, things were easier—you’d joke around, take breaks to go eat something, help each other and sometimes even stop what you were working on to choreograph something together; just the two of you.

it was only a month or two later that you caught yourself looking at him in a less than friendly but rather heated way… and much to your surprise, you slowly started noticing his own lustful glances—lips red from biting them and hooded eyes tracking your every movement. but, alas, you weren’t one for first moves.

considering all of this, you weren’t surprised at the position you were currently in; on the floor of the practice room, legs hooked around his as you sat between them, mingi’s lips against the side of your neck, one arm around your waist and the other with his hand inside your panties (your shorts had been discarded long ago, along with his shirt) as he faced you to lthe mirror, forcing you to watch his every movement.

he swiped his middle finger through your folds, gathering some arousal and then slowly circling your swollen clit. a breathy whimper escaped your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder. the combined sensation of his finger around your nub and his lips kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck sent another wave of wetness gushing out of you.

“eyes on the mirror, doll,” he moved his head up to whisper right into your ear with that husky voice of his, gently biting down on your earlobe. he removed his hand from your pussy for a moment, letting your legs down to slip your panties off before hooking them over his thighs again. you were practically dripping as he exposed you. “i want you to see what i’m doing, watch how your beautiful little body reacts to me.”

reluctantly, you nodded and pulled yourself off his shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the arousal smeared between your thighs. a moan escaped your lips as he gave your clit a particularly firm tug, his ring and middle finger pressed against the skin on either side of it and pinching gently. you tried holding back your following moans, but the quiver of your thighs gave you away. though, you felt better knowing you weren’t the only enjoying this so much, his erection strained against his pants and poked at your ass. 

his movements against your heat were slow but precise, eliciting pretty little whimpers and moans from you. the hand wrapped around the front of your waist moved up, featherlight touches leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he gently brushes his fingers over the fabric of your bra. then he nudge the straps down your shoulder and let the bra cups fall, his hand immediately going to tweak at your nipples. 

“f-fuck…” you cursed quietly, trying your best to stop your eyes from fluttering shirt from all the pleasure and keep your eyes on the mirror as he asked.

two of his large fingers circled your entrance, massaging it before slowly pushing in. jaw slack at the stinging stretch, you watched as they disappeared into your vagina, breath stuttering when he curved them just enough to brush against the right spot. your hand snaked it’s way behind his head, tugging on his hair gently.

“oh, look, doll,” you heard him groan behind you, feeling his smirk against your neck, “look at how well you take my fingers…”

and with that he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you, digits firmly pressing against the spongey spot inside you each time, increasing his speed more and more as his thumb continue circling your clit. he watched your face in the mirror, analysing each twitch of your muscles and each flutter of your lashes to perfectly adjust his movements. in any other context, you perhaps would’ve appreciated how perceptive he was. but right now you wanted nothing more than to savour the feeling of his fingers, anticipating how his cock would feel in you. 

before you knew it, the familiar knot of an orgasm began tightening in your abdomen, your body squirming.

“shit, mingi…” his name tumbled out of your mouth in a drawl and his movement stopped for a moment.l before he continued at a more rigorous pace. you could’ve sworn you felt his erection twitch behind you. 

“say that again,” he growled, “say my name.”

the rough scratch of his voice made you impossibly wetter as you obeyed quickly. “mingi, o-oh…”

after that it didn’t take much longer for you to snap, coming down hard on his fingers, muscles jerking and back arching as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises.

“keep it down, baby, someone might walk in and see you at my mercy.”

he pulled his fingers out of you and caressed your thighs. it didn’t take to long for you to calm down from your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as he whispered praises in your ear. despite the fact you just had an orgasm, you knew you still wanted more.

“i-i need… i need you,” you tried, face flushed as you hinted the best you could.

“hm?” he chuckled. “and what exactly do you need of me?”

with a huff, you grinded yourself back against him, against his cock, but he moved his hands to grip your hips firmly and stop you. 

“that won’t do,” he shook his head. “i want you to use your words, doll. can you do that for me, baby?”

a moment of silence passed between you. it was awkward or anything, a teasing grin on his face as he looked you in the eyes through the mirror, your brows furrowed before you sighed.

“god, mingi, i need your cock in me.”

he grinned, hands tugging your shirt and bra off before sitting back on his knees and turning you around. mingi leaned over you, cupping your chin before kissing you with a bruising hardness. once he broke the kiss, a malicious spark shined in his sharp eyes.

“anything for my doll.”

network. @cromernet

[neuvistar]

Can you do a request for gepard? Like he forgot his lunch one day and reader delivered it to him, but they couldnt help themselves and fucked in the barracks 😭😭😭 PLS

OFC OFC <33 this is gonna be a lil thirst but i think it’s enough! he’s so sweet, and when he heard u had sumn to deliver to him, his heart melted! he didn’t know that it would escalate into something further | mmm let’s see let’s see gn!reader 2 be safe, short lil thirst, not proofread, gepard being a sweetheart, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex?? overall suggestive content! minors do not interact ! (this has been rotting in my drafts 4 so long i’m so sorry anon)

you’re such a sweetie, lunch? for him? he was thrilled! you knew and noticed how exhausting things have been for gepard, stressing himself out as he came home later and later, seeing his pretty face lesser and lesser as the days go on, you couldn’t handle it really :(( it would come to the point where you would be willing to relieve his stress a little, packing him lunch every now and then so he would have enough energy 2 be energized throughout the day <3

well.. it worked, but not that well. you knew your boyfriend was always in a rush, occasionally waking up with nobody by your side, occasionally waking up n having 2 make breakfast for yourself, opening the freezer as u see that gepard already collected his lunch. he was in a rush of course, you could tell. he didn’t even bother eating breakfast! one of these days you would notice that his lunch you packed for him last night was still in the freezer, cocking a brow as you figured he might’ve.. rushed a little too much, forgetting his own lunch. you decided it was a good idea to deliver it for him, he can’t go on his day with an empty stomach!

one of his guards pulled him aside, whispering on how his partner was present there, asking for him as they happen 2 be there delivering something for him. when gepard met with you and saw that same kind look in your eyes, his gaze would soften. eyes wandering to the neatly packaged lunch you had made for him (that he forgot..) that night. you’re such a sweetheart, he really does appreciate the things you do for him, he really does. that’s what he loves about you, always so sweet 2 him n willing 2 do things for him <3 gepard is a darling.. not knowing how this situation escalated into something so fast.

you couldn’t help it really, you were needy. you wanted him, it’s been so long since he filled you up.. it’s about time you had your fill! your dragged your hands smoothly down his chest, lips curved into a smirk as gepard’s back was pushed back against the wall, a deep red blush on his face as his hands were glued to your waist, feeling just how hot your body became. “sweetheart.. is it alright if we wait until i get home? m’ sorry.. i needta’—“ you shut him up with a kiss, tasting his lips as this kiss was different than those usual goodbye ones you would give him when he was off for duty, the kiss was heated and rough, the taste of your lips drove him absolutely crazy, he loved how savoury you tasted against his mouth, he could taste you forever and he would never get tired of it.

gepard is such a darling, is he? forcing his big cock inside your aching hole :(( a hand clasped on your pretty lips as he whispered praises and demands 4 u to be good n quiet for him, well.. this really did escalate. his packaged lunch was by the far corner of the wall, he can worry abt that later. the blonde held your hips, lifting one of your legs up as this new position made your eyes pop out of your sockets almost because of how good it felt, he was big. you knew that. it was bad enough that he was practically pounding into you where other soldiers could catch you both any moment, and it was bad enough that some of his cum he filled your hole with was seeping out, dripping on your pretty thighs then the floor, oh boy. you wondered what excuse he’ll come up with for that.

his cock was so damn talented, charting the stars almost with how talented it was, how it had the ability to make you cum in no time.. drool slipped from the side of your lips as gepard grunted at the feeling of your hole spasming around his big dick, wanting you to feel every single detail of it. your hole was stretched, you struggled to keep yourself up as your legs shook viciously against gepard’s hold, pounding himself into you now.. fuck. he really was good with his cock. he was lost in the moment, his mind blank with nothing but you. you knew you both really could’ve have fucked in a better place.. but you couldn’t help it. you missed him, missed his cock. missed how deep it would go, missed just how softly the cockhead of it would kiss your deepest areas, missed just how perfect that bulge on your stomach was. your hole sucked him in with each thrust, making him even more desperate than he is. the captain already came multiple times, just how much can he cum?!

not that you were complaining though, you loved it whenever your beloved boyfriend filled you up like this. but yet again.. you really could’ve chosen a better place and time to get fucked like this, maybe then you both wouldn’t make such a huge mess of cum dripping down to the hard floor from your stretched out hole.

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.

synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”

You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.

“Why is it priced so low, then?”

“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.

The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.

“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”

Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”

“Reputation?” You frowned.

“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”

-----

It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.

You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.

It was perfect, almost too perfect.

“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.

When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.

“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”

“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.

“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”

Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.

When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.

Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.

Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.

Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.

You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

-----

The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.

You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.

Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.

The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.

Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.

Crack.

The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.

“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.

In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.

-----

After that, the strangeness kept adding up.

Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.

Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.

One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.

The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.

That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.

It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.

The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.

The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.

“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.

You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”

There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”

You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”

The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”

Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.

“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”

“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”

“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”

“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”

The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.

“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.

“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”

The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.

Was it... loneliness?

It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.

“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[jasmineoolongtea]

Okay I have a weird request but since you're so good at writing I'm gonna shoot my shot lol. No pressure though! How about a huge misunderstanding between reader and jjk men (and boys), where one is somehow convinced the other is cheating (tho they're not and are totally loyal!) and it causes a big argument with one of them walking out and saying "I'm done." But then when they realise there was no cheating going on it's soft and sweet and full of apology? You can add whoever you'd like, though would love to see Gojo, Geto and Nanami!

a/n: hii anon thank you for your compliments <333 honestly when i saw the words 'weird request' i was thinking in a completely different direction from this but this request is totally normal so do not worry about it at all !!! also so sorry this took a while to get out back to you anon i had to study for and take my driver's licence test ;-; hope i can do your request justice and hope you enjoy it !!!

if anyone had asked gojo satoru what he thought of his relationship, his answer would undoubtedly be that it was rock solid, that nothing could ever phase the two of you, not even the end of the world, and he would probably take off with a skip in his step as he makes his way to go shower you in affection.

so then, if that was true, why was there a pang of an ugly and uncomfortable feeling making its way up his throat at the sight of someone else's jacket wrapped around your figure.

"i'm home, toru!" you cheerily announce, as usual, exhaustion from the day melting off your body as you shed your belongings at the entryway to your apartment. it's been a long day and there's nothing more that you would like to do than to slink back into bed and into your lover's forever warm embrace.

however, unlike usual, satoru does not greet you with a bright grin to sweep you up in his arms and pepper your face with kisses. instead, he stands motionless in the hallway, his face a mixture of emotions. he doesn't meet your eyes, choosing to glare at the new unfamiliar article of clothing with a sense of contempt.

eerily, satoru is silent. you can't help but attempt to shake off the feeling that something's wrong.

"what's that?" he asks, monotone, his voice is devoid of its typical energy and affection like you're nothing more than a stranger, or perhaps something even worse.

"oh, this?" you look down at yourself and suddenly remember that you were still wearing your co-worker's jacket. "ah right, i forgot a co-worker gave this to me earlier when i was complaining that the ac was too cold." you remark, brushing past him as you move to hang up the jacket on the apartment's coat rack.

you hum absent-mindedly to yourself as you do, thinking to yourself that satoru just probably had a rough day, no thanks to the higher-ups of course, and that was the reason for his strange demeanour today. your back is facing towards him as you pipe up, "remind me tomorrow to return this to him when i head for work."

'him', a bitter taste fills his mouth. there's a heaviness at the bottom of his gut, one that threatens to pull him down with it the more he thinks about it. he soon realises what this feeling is; it's jealousy, an emotion that he thought he was better than, that is gnawing its way into his mind and his vision becomes clouded. he grits his teeth, his jaw tense up.

"right, of course, you're in such a hurry to see him again." he scoffs off-handily to himself. there's a bitter edge to his words and this doesn't go by unnoticed by you.

you turn to face him fully, your lips drawn into a tight line. there's a hidden insinuation lying behind his words, one that you don't necessarily appreciate. "what are you trying to imply here, satoru?"

he decides it would be better to spit it out than to let it fester there on the tip of his tongue. "are you seeing someone else?"

your jaw drops at his accusation. "are you serious? is this really how you see me satoru?" you question, your beautiful face twisting into an expression of deep pain.

a wave of regret instantly washes over him.

satoru doesn't respond and you take his silence as his answer. your throat suddenly feels tight as you choke out, "look, if you're really going to be like this. i-i don't think i can do this anymore." you turn away from him, making your way towards the entrance as you hurriedly scoop up your belongs in a half hazard manner.

you're unsure on whether or not it's sadness or anger that's tugging at your heart right now but what you do know is that there's a sense of betrayal that lingers in the air.

"wait." he pleads, the previous stupid jealousy he might have felt before is long gone by now and all he's left with is the burning pain of regret. if there was an option to undo everything he just said he would take it in a heartbeat.

he reaches out to you and makes a desperate last attempt to stop you from leaving by holding onto your wrist. "please, wait can we talk this out?"

his much larger hand engulfs your wrist and you can't deny how pained his voice sounds and how it tugs at your heart, begging you to stay, but then you remember how fresh the pain was of being accused by someone you thought would be able to trust you wholeheartedly and so, you shrug him off.

"i'm done. goodbye, satoru." you walk out as the door slams closed behind you, leaving him alone to stew in regret.

it's been 10 hours since you left, rightfully so with how he was behaving like an insecure ass to you, and it's been 4 hours of failed attempts to sleep off the ache he feels growing in his chest. he doesn't know why he had acted like that, accusing you of such things completely unwarranted and maybe if he was going to be more purposefully obtuse, he might blame it on the green-eyed monster but even he knows that it would just be a poor deflection of blame.

exhausted from hours of self-inflicted insomnia, he rolls out of bed and stares at the mess of white sheets left in your wake. satoru always slept better when he was with you and now he's just gone and ruined one of the best things he's ever had.

would it be so terrible if he put aside his pride to go begging for your forgiveness for his stupidness? he sure as hell doesn't deserve it right now but he knows that he'll hate himself forever if he never tries. and so, that's how satoru finds himself at your doorstep, soaking wet from the rain and knocking on your door.

against all odds, you answer, though obviously just barely having escaped the clutches of sleep as you rub your eyes tiredly. you're greeted with the sight of him standing at your door and all the conflicting feelings that you tried to bury away previously come crawling back up.

"...what are you doing here, satoru? it's like 2am." you're completely drained and not in the mood for a screaming match if that is what he's here for.

he looks haggard in all senses of the word. his hair is tousled in a sweaty mess from tossing and turning around a bed that feels way too empty with wisps of white hair clinging to his forehead. his clothes are dishevelled in a way which tells you he just threw on the first thing he found in his haste to make it to your apartment and the skin under his eyes is hollowed out as he stares at you with red-rimmed eyes.

gojo satoru looks defeated, to say the least.

"i'm sorry, for everything," he starts off, his chest heaves up and down with shaky breaths. you're not sure if it's him shivering from the rain or just his nerves. "truly deeply sorry." his voice is totally devoid of malice and instead it's more like the satoru you know and love but with a new found rawness and vulnerability to it.

you're not sure what to say, avoiding his gaze as best as you can as you fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie, the one that you stole from him ages ago. he notices that and there's a flutter of hope in his heart, but he pushes on with his apology, choosing to not let himself get carried away with that.

"i'm stupid, okay? i'm a monumental idiot." you laugh slightly at that. he takes that as a good sign and that ball of hope within him grows a little stronger. satoru takes a deep sigh, as if to steady himself before continuing.

"i don't know why i said that and you don't deserve any of those thoughts or accusations okay? hell, i'm pretty sure i don't deserve you with how i've been acting today. you don't need to forgive me or anything but i just want you to know i'm sorry."

"satoru-"

"-and i know that and if you want to punch me or kick me to the curb that's also completely fine. i won't blame you i pro-" he's suddenly cut off by the tug of his t-shirt and the feeling of soft, warm lips, your lips, against his as he falls into an awe-struck silence. your lips part from his and he already feels that he's gone on for too long without them.

you smile at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling slightly and he can feel all of the regret that was eating him alive before melting away, like fallen snow when the spring sun makes its glorious return back to earth. "yes, i forgive you, you massive fool. you're definitely an idiot but you're my idiot."

he takes your hands in his and brings them up to his lips, whispering into them,

"that's right, i'm yours."

you know the phrase 'seeing is believing'? yeah, geto suguru thinks that's probably one of the dumbest phrases he's ever had the pleasure, or displeasure in this case, of hearing. there's a lot of things that you can't see but you can still believe in; an example would be gravity. you don't need to see it to know that it exists and believe in it so why is visual confirmation the default that people go to?

that is until he saw you in the arms of someone else and maybe, in that moment, he realised that the phrase might have more merit to it than he had originally placed on it.

honestly, you were already having an awful day. you had just barely the train to your work by the millisecond so you were left waiting around for 5 minutes before the next train came and much to your chagrin, you were left standing for the entirety of the 20-minute journey and had officially arrived at your workplace late.

to pile on to that, you remembered that you had very conveniently forgotten all of the things you needed to bring in for that very specific day and had to do the whole journey again to avoid incurring the wrath of your boss.

and the cherry on top? it was running into that co-worker that you hated with all your guts and getting their coffee spilt on your very nice white shirt, whether intentionally or unintentionally you'll deal with that issue later.

however, this left you with an embarrassing large stain right front and centre for the rest of the day until the universe decided to grant you a small mercy by having your other co-worker offer you a spare change of clothes which you gratefully accepted. as you did, you could feel the pointed stares of the other members of your workplace burning angry holes through your back which only left you with an unsettling feeling in your gut. albeit, you brushed it off quickly as you couldn't really linger on the issue.

it was always like this when you two interacted in both a friendly and professional capacity. the occasion or even context of the interaction didn't matter to the rest of them when all they saw was the office crush acting nice with you and you reciprocating this niceness to an extent that made them seethe with jealousy over the fact that it wasn't them.

maybe they should learn that they could get his respect by treating him as a person rather than an object to fawn over but again, that was a conversation for another day and they should have known that you only had eyes for one man, in the form of your boyfriend suguru, anyways.

suguru wasn't someone who was super public about his affection for you with grand displays of PDA, but what mattered to you and him was that he showed in ways that were important to both of you and that was enough.

that was why he found himself standing at the door of your workplace, a small bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand, waiting to surprise you and pick you up the moment you were done with your shift. he leans against the cool surface of the cement wall behind him and imagines the delighted look on your face when you see him there. his lips curve into a slight smile at that mental image.

he glances at the watch on his wrist, a present from you from a previous anniversary and one he treasured deeply as evidenced by the fact that there was barely a scratch on its glass shell, and silently counts down the minutes in his head. while lost in his own thoughts, he fails to notice a group of employees passing by him though he does manage to pick up bits and pieces of their fleeting conversation.

"can you believe them? throwing themself all over him like that?" one voice chides.

"i know right? it's like they have no shame at all." another adds bitterly.

"you know, it makes me think that there's something going on between them." and that earns them a chorus of agreement from their little group.

suguru pays them little mind though, believing it to be just simple office gossip that he could care less about unless it was coming from you, then he would be hooked on every single detail you fed him like his life depended on it. he hears footsteps from around the corner and notes an all-too-familiar giggle as the people emerge. it's you and he walks forward a bit more to see if he can spot you.

however, he's greeted with an awful sight. the source of your melodic laughter appears to be the man standing next to you and before you two part, he leans down to give you a hug, one that you seemingly receive with open arms. there's a sinking sensation at the bottom of his stomach when he watches the both of you linger for a second.

when you part, not before thanking your co-worker again for his kindness, you turn around and notice suguru standing a few metres in front of you. "sugu? what are you doing here?" you ask, pleasantly surprised by his sudden appearance and you light up with happiness at the sight of him. you stop in your tracks when you realise he hasn't made a single move to greet you.

the smile on your face drops slightly as your eyebrows furrow in concern for his strange stillness. you take a step closer towards him but he remains still as a statue. there's the sound of crumpled paper as his grip tightens around the bouquet that he's still holding.

you're both silent for a second before he speaks up.

"are you cheating on me?" though his question is straightforward, his tone is unsure.

he doesn't want to believe that you could be doing that but he can't help but draw his own conclusions about what he just saw, especially in light of the comments he overheard which now suddenly make sense if he looks at them from this newfound angle.

a look of betrayal flickers through your eyes at his words. there's an undeniable bitter aftertaste in his mouth that he can't swallow down.

"is that you really think this is?" there's a pained edge to your voice and you can feel an uncomfortable tightness around your throat as you try to fight back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"suguru, i would never do that! we're just co-workers, don't you believe me?" he doesn't look at you, choosing to actively avoid your gaze instead and you can feel yourself faltering as the grim reality of the situation dawns on you with solemn resignation.

"you know, suguru, i've had a really awful day today and this is not helping at all. i'm done with this. goodbye, suguru." and before he can say anything, you brush past him as you make your way to god knows where. as you walk off, he finally realises that the sinking feeling in his stomach is regret.

after you dissapear into the twisting streets, suguru is overwhelmed with this awful feeling of regret as he realises how rash he was in jumping to a conclusion that had no basis aside from some stupid off-handed comments he overheard and a hug that could very well just be only friendly and nothing more. all he can think about is apologising to you and hopefully finding a way back into your good graces again.

unfortunately for him, you've turned off your phone so he can't even call you to find out where you are but even if it was on, he doubts that you would even pick up and that is definitely deserved on his behalf. he stops and thinks to himself for a moment and decides to take a chance on the first place he can come up with.

thankfully, his gut is right and he finds you sitting on a grassy hill, your grassy hill with him, absent-mindedly plucking up strands of grass before discarding them. there's the sound of grass crunching underneath shoe soles as suguru takes his place next to you.

"what are you doing here, suguru?" you're not looking at him and he can feel a pang of pain in his chest.

"had a feeling you would be here."

you scoff half-heartedly. a shaky breath escapes your lips as you turn to him, your eyes are slightly red-rimmed and there's an unmistakable shimmery glean to your cheeks from your tears. another tug of his heart. "what do you want? because it seemed like you were pretty much done with me at that point."

"i want to apologise." there's a look of surprise on your face as you turn to him and he continues, his voice raw and vulnerable as he continues, "i want to say sorry for taking and not even listening to the most important side of the story, you. so please, and spare no details, tell me what happened today."

you pause for a second as if to consider his words and examine his sincerity, and then you nod and he can feel a sigh of relief leave him. as you relay to him the true details of your day, you notice how his expression becomes more and more apologetic as the facts of the story finally come to light.

he leans against your shoulders and envelops you in his arms. you reciprocate his touch, snaking your own arms around his waist and he sinks his head into the crook of your neck.

"i can't stress how sorry i am." his voice is muffled against your collarbone as you rest your chin upon his head. his hand finds yours and squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"you know you have a lot to make up for right?" he looks up at you, violet eyes gazing into your own, and hums in agreement as he places a soft kiss against your hand.

"anything for you, angel."

nanami kento was a man who believed that it was his duty to silently bear all of the things that came his way, no matter the cost, and this made him someone that many people could always rely on which has earned him a similar reputation in many facets of his life. unfortunately, this benefit did not extend to his relationship.

you knew all this when you got into a relationship with him including his workaholic tendencies and so you were never too disappointed when a dinner for two would turn into a dinner for one.

even if they became more frequent, you would always be able to go to sleep with the knowledge that you would wake up next to a head of blonde hair and a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist as the steady beat of your two hearts in sync filled the relative silence of your shared bedroom.

until, one day, you began to wake up cold and alone, lost within the expanses of the sheets without his arms there to tether you to a world with him by your side. the only shreds of evidence that he was actually there and not just a figment of your touch-starved imagination was the slight indent of the mattress left in his wake and a messily scribbled note which read 'woke up early for work, breakfast is in the fridge.' which felt just as cold and devoid of affection as the room you currently were in.

phone calls became less frequent as well and seeing kento in the flesh was more like trying to find a four-leafed clover in a field full of clovers. explanations were short and choppy and to you, they felt like simply a courtesy on his part rather than genuine truths.

with his presence fading even more and more from the apartment and your life, you couldn't help but start to wonder if there was more behind these excuses and perhaps, he had decided to move on from you and onto someone else. these worries even followed you from your waking hours into your dreams and so you made your mind up to stay up and wait for his return to finally confront him about his behaviour.

now sitting there at your kitchen table, fingers absent-mindedly drumming against the wood surface as you anxiously watch the seconds tick down on the clock and await his arrival. tick tock, tick tock. the sound of the clock echoes off the walls of the apartment.

there's an uncomfortable ball of anxiety gnawing at the insides of your stomach. if the truth didn't kill you, the waiting was definitely going to be the one to put the final nail in your coffin at this point.

much to your relief, or worst fears, there's a jangle of keys coming from outside the door and it soon cracks open to reveal a very tired and worn down kento as he makes his way into the apartment and begins to unload his belongings in the entryway. he's halfway through with removing his suit jacket when he finally notices you sitting there, stone-faced aside from your lips which you nervously bite at, and a worried sigh escapes him.

he makes his way towards you and takes a seat opposite from you. under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, you're able to get a much better look at him and while his hair is perfectly styled back as usual, there's an air of exhaustion radiating from him as you take note of the darkness of his eyebags and the seemingly permanent grimace that he sports, a far cry from the looks of domestic bliss that you would always be greeted with previously.

"what are you doing up so late, my love? you should be asleep by now or else you'll be tired tomorrow for work." his voice is full of concern for your well-being when it should be the least of his worries at this point with how burnt out he was. you're pretty sure that his cheekbones are more pronounced from the lack of full meals rather than simply his genetics.

a pang of guilt hits you in your gut, of course, he's still so fixated on you taking care of yourself when he clearly is the one who needs the advice even more, but you know that this needs to come out sooner or later. you steel yourself with a shaky breath.

"where have you been?" you ask, uncharacteristically cold. he can tell that there's something off with you but he chooses not to comment or push on it.

"i've been at work, trying to finish something for the higher-ups before tomorrow." his tone is straightforward and blunt and you can't tell if he's giving you a rehearsed answer or a truthful one.

you look down at your hands. "is that really all it is?"

"what do you mean?" his eyebrows furrow in confusion. you're not sure if this is genuine confusion or if he's just playing you for a fool.

you sigh, exhausted. you can feel the corners of your eyes start to burn with tears but you attempt to blink them away to the best of your ability. "i can't take these late nights and weak excuses anymore, kento. if there's someone else, i would rather you just say it."

he doesn't say anything and you grit your teeth as you solemnly accept that as his answer. you quickly stand up from your seat but before you can go anywhere, you're stopped in your tracks by the feeling of his calloused hands on your forearm.

"wait, please, dear-" he pleads softly.

"i'm done, kento." you cut him off before he can say anything else but he strides over to you and places a hand on your shoulder.

"love, please." he implores, his brown eyes full of sincerity as he tries his best to convince you to hear him out. "please, stay and let me explain, just for a minute and that's all." you don't pull away from his touch and he offers you a grateful smile.

"the late nights and overtime are to save some time off for a vacation. a vacation with you." before you could even open your mouth to speak, he silently stops you with a gentle caress to the cheek and manages to render you both speechless and breathless in a single move. "i know you're worried about me overworking myself so i wanted to surprise you and finally make my promises to you come true."

you're instantly hit with a sense of regret as you realise that your overthinking and fear might have cost you something so precious and at the thought of potentially having lost him, you can't help but throw yourself into his open embrace and bury your face into the rumpled fabric of his button up.

a soothing hand finds its way to your back as he attempts to comfort you. he's so good to you and sometimes you wonder if you really deserve it. "i'm sorry, ken. i shouldn't be jumping to conclusions and accusing you of such things." you confess, your voice slightly muffled against his chest. "you've been nothing but kind and loving to me and all i can say is that i'm sorry."

"it's alright, my dear. i should be sorry as well. i shouldn't have been so guarded when you're asking even if it's for a surprise." he adds himself and then there's the fleeting warmth of his lips against your forehead before his arms tighten their grip around you as if to reassure you that he wasn't going anywhere.

"so you're not mad at me, kento?" you ask gingerly, glancing at his face to find a fond expression looking back down at you, not a single bit of anger or annoyance to be detected on any of his features.

"you, dear? i could never be angry at you."

[gutterfuuck]

bro bro hear me out

you’re like the only mark writer out there so i NEED THIS TO HAPPEN PLS.

frat boy mark x sorority girl reader.

PLLLLLEAAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEE.

enough — !

this idea was so good, i had to start writing before i lost my mind and forgot!! you are such genius. this is probably a little off topic(?) as what you were thinking!! sorry if it is not what you expected, however, i will be using this idea in future so if you do not enjoy this, i will be writing another that is more enjoyable to you!! (with credit to you of course as the original anon!!) the frat name is an abbreviation because i couldn’t come up with one 😭😭

cw: reader is like 2 years older than mark? idk they’re both in their 20s, no superheroes/abilities au!!, william is in here for a bit i love william #williamforpresident2024, alcohol, typical college frat/sorority type parties, the start is quite long sorry i got carried away 😭, dubcon(?), reader is a bitch lowkey, mark gets mean, smut, headlock, piv, degradation, mark gets really mean ouh, creampie hehe, typical sparkie fic it’s evil and hiding under your bed like the babadook or something, aftercare at the end cuz i got soft

a/n: i was supposed to release this yesterday night though have had to edit and spellcheck this myself!! i am quite proud as this is probably the longest fic i have written without any editing from my friend!! if you notice small mistakes no you didn’t

he’s had it with you.

it’s only been a few months since he’s started college and he’s already way behind everyone else. you didn’t have a care in the world, you’d already completed college!! yet you still stay in your old dorm room, bunking with someone who had gotten lucky and left without a roommate, you payed whatever rent you felt like. you just enjoyed the college scenery, the lifestyle, you never wanted it to end… most of all, you loved your sorority. you were well aware that you might’ve looked a little bit like a loser, still hanging out with the sorority with ever changing members. you didn’t care, you were practically in charge, their leader - the queen bee. and that’s what got on his nerves.

you see, you’ve been handed life on a silver platter. a sweet 16th birthday party with a car bought just for you, spoiled absolutely rotten. mark couldn’t really talk, but at least his family came from humble beginnings, you’ve always had your money and status. you’ve always gotten what you want, even if you had to play the long game. the long, hard, boring game... which people could only stand for five minutes or less, what with your constant whining sounds and your foot stomping on the ground, pouting with your arms crossed over your chest. whatever you wanted, people just gave to you. handed themselves on a silver platter… not him. never him.

mark had a love-hate relationship with you. on one hand, you were hot, stunning… he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about you some nights, just like the other guys he hung around with.. on the other hand, you were nothing but a spoiled brat. he remembered the first time you’d come bolting at him as he stood at the doorstep of your sorority house, confusing it with the other one he’d supposed to have showed up at on his first day. you threw your arms around him as your head pounded from last night’s heavy drinking, your only sober thought being “i hope the other girls don’t get to him first.”

“fresh meat huhhh… i *hic* always like the newer ones… you like to party..?” you ask, swaying around with your arm around his like you’d known him for years let alone five seconds. mark tensed, expression shifting to slight annoyance as you almost crumpled over, dragging you back up by your shoulder gently. “no. do you know where house 242 is?” you pout at him, wavy finger pressing to his cheek and wobbling a line down his face before he smacked your hand away, tutting at you and looking around the front porch of your sorority house. bingo. mark shook you away, trudging towards the folded up lawn chair he had spotted, bringing it back and unfolding it for you. you’d annoyed him, sure, but his mother had taught him to be nice to girls.

actually, he pitied you. mark thought he could read between the lines, thought you being drunk at 11am on a wednesday morning must’ve been because you were hurting about something, someone, someplace… debbie’s words before she dropped him off in the car two days prior played in his head, ‘you never know what people could be going through, so be kind.’ as much as you’d bothered him so far, he was still inclined to make sure you were at least sat down to minimize risking an injury. you flopped down into the chair, groaning when you bumped your spine against the metal frame of it, tilting your head back to look up at him. he stared down at you with tired brown eyes, stoic expression not registering to you in your drunken state. at least you were pretty.

he clears his throat before he talks again, unfolding a piece of paper from his pocket, “house 242. do you know how to get there?” your eyes widen, mouth falling open with an excited gasp, “shut up! you are not in OOA!” you slur loudly, attempting to get up from your seat but dropping back into it as your socked feet slipped on the grassy ground below. mark gave a sideways smile and nodded slowly, he hadn’t been given the frat name yet, only the house number. mark didn’t want to have to walk around campus with a drunk sorority girl, you were only dressed in a night dress and a loose jacket, people would get the wrong idea! but, if he had no choice (and he didn’t really feel like walking around campus and looking for the house for the third time today) he’d have to have you as his temporary guide of sorts. this was so embarrassing, he really hoped nobody would think of him as a scumbag.

after watching you flap your arms and get all excited about his frat, you wobble towards the house, rushing to put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, slipping your feet into your fluffy pink slippers, a staple. because of you, no other girls apart from your sorority would wear pink shoes around campus. and you wondered why people had branded you, and your little minions who wanted to be like you, as a bully of sorts. actually, if you thought for more than twenty seconds about it, you’d know people’d rather stay on your good side: you were rich, pretty, stole people’s boyfriends on the regular, confronted those who you thought were competition and you were allowed to basically do as you wanted. because daddykins’ best friends with the dean and the dean makes wayyyy less than your dear old dad and your father bends over backwards for you so if you wanted to waste your degree you fucked and paid yourself to, then you absolutely could.

when you both start walking, you attempt to interlock your arm with his, twisting your face up in disbelief when he rejected your advances. nobody had ever, ever, in the history of ever, done that to you. you want to stamp your foot on the ground but you resist, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. maybe he was just shy, you’d met guys like this before. new, shy, never had a pretty girl at his side like this… you got it, you really did. you’d take this as a loss, you’d soften him down later, OOA liked to party and you hadn’t seen a new member who hadn’t drank on their first night yet. you’d know, you’d been doing this same routine for almost three years. fresh meat, lost little lamb, needs the drunk pretty girl’s help ‘cause OOA was pretty hidden away, slipping your arm into theirs to tease them, walking them to their new hangout… coming back before seven on the evening and flirting your way into the new guy’s pants, blocking them when they try to contact you before moving on to the next one… one step had already gone south in your plan. you’d take it on the chin this time. he was cute and you’d already claimed him as yours, the other girls would know as soon as they saw him.

the path you both walked on faded into the concrete, a grassy path appearing as you spotted some guys outside of the house, a keg of beer already being set up this early in the day. mark thought maybe he’d made a mistake jointing the same frat his father had during his own college days, the promise of the frat being quite calm and collected faded away from almost three decades ago, the newer generation of young adults poisoning the good name his father had gone on and on about. sure, nolan had drank during his college years but parties and alcohol were never kept at OOA.

you see, mark wasn’t the average frat guy type: not loud, not obnoxious, actually wanted to learn and grow from his college experience and make some new friends. good friends, not meatheads who didn’t know their asses from their elbows. he hoped at least one person in that house was capable, sighing quietly to himself as he unenthusiastically approached the house with you. a guy waved at you, you waved back with a giggle as another set his drink down, announcing to the other guys that “y/n was here”. oh, so you were just a slut then. you don’t know what people could be going through, so be nice. he rolled his eyes internally, feeling slightly guilty with his thoughts as a red plastic cup is thrust into his chest by someone he’d found familiar, looking up to meet william’s eyes, his stone face cracking into a smile. he hadn’t even noticed the way you’d slipped away from him, chatting with some guy who stood shirtless with a concoction of different liquors that made him blink too slowly, constantly shifting from foot to foot to maintain his balance.

“what happened to not wanting to join us?” his friend asks as mark takes the cup into his hand, smelling the contents of the drink before he decides not to put it to his lips. it was way too early to day drink, he hadn’t even put his backpack down yet, “changed my mind, dad was on my ass about it, i just didn’t want the headache when i go visit.” he shrugged, eyes wondering over to you, watching as you let that guy hug you from behind, a strange feeling bubbling up in his gut. he wasn’t sure if he felt shame or disappointment that you hadn’t stayed with him, no longer worried about how weird it would have looked to walk around with you intoxicated. he looks away before your eyes meet his again, attention shifting back to william and whatever he had been babbling on about before he’d started daydreaming. “…and that’s why- mark? are you listening?” william snapped his fingers at him, shaking him out of his absent looking gaze. william looks behind him, in the direction mark had been staring in, slowly nodding his head with an eyebrow lifted when he looks back at mark again, “oh, right. i get it.” he smirks, mark’s red tinted cheeks being confirmation. “shut up, she only bought me here ‘cause you weren’t answering your texts.” he retorts, shaking his head when william gives him a knowing look.

that was the first day he’d met you. mark didn’t go to the party that night, much to your disappointment. instead, you spent the night in the lap of one of the jocks you’d settled on as a compromise, swigging back shots of vodka and rejecting his advances. he had a tiny cock anyway, you’d seen it before when one of the girls in your sorority received a picture of his dick and squealed about how gross the foreskin looked. you weren’t gonna fuck this guy, partly because you didn’t feel like it and partly because you were disappointed that you hadn’t gotten to see more of mark. you’d see him around campus, catch him staring at you outside sometimes. every interaction was short lived, always being shut down by him. hard to get was by far your least favourite game and there was no way mark would be able to resist someone like you! this had to be the twilight zone or something.

you’d tried everything at this point, low cut shirts with short skirts that exposed the bottom of your butt, shorts that should class as panties with how they barely classed as shorts, bikinis, standing outside his frat house while he was in it and being sprayed by beer in a wet t shirt contest, the works!! you had never been so offended, he just acted as if he didn’t even see you! it’s been four months now, four months of being basically celibate due to your petty “if he cant take me, nobody will have me” mentality. god, you were acting desperate. it embarrassed you, you hated working hard for things that should come as easy as one, two and three. while you thought your attention seeking streak was getting you nowhere, mark’s brain was going into overdrive.

“i just don’t get why you’re so… worked up about it.” william says as he sips from his mug that held coffee - the irish kind since he had a migraine from yesterday’s party and felt the only way to recover was to drink more - sitting with his leg crossed over the other on the sofa with mark who typed away on his laptop, “worked up? worked up?” mark repeated, never looking up from his screen, “come on. i’m sure she didn’t mean it-“ william began, sentence cut short by mark slamming his laptop down, getting up from the couch to put it on the kitchen isle, eyebrows furrowed. he was talking about how you’d ‘accidentally’ taken his jacket instead of yours and when he’d asked for it the morning after, you’d sent one of your sorority minions outside to tell him that they had no clue where the jacket or you was- only to see you walking around campus in it like it belonged to you a minute later, returning to the sorority house with drinks in a little black plastic bag. he had to walk back in the rain, his shirt soaked and blood boiling. yes, the jacket wasn’t a big deal. what william didn’t know was that he was mad because for the last few weeks, you’d been at the parties he’d been at. not only that but you’d always have a different guy all over you, always looking over to him, almost like you were doing it on purpose.

“yeah sure, i’m sure she didn’t mean to spill her drink all over me last week and steal my jacket yesterday, y’know, the one i needed to get home in the rain… oh, i’m sure she didn’t mean to break the fucking tv- the only one we have, when she came over for beer-pong.” mark spits back, pinching the space between his eyes with his index and thumb. william rolls his eyes, sipping away at his coffee without a care in the world. “and i’m sure she didn’t mean to make me miss nearly all of my classes.” he finishes, which makes william turn his head towards him with a smile, “oh, i’m sure y/n physically kept you from going to class.” william tuts, standing up and walking out of the room, “last time i checked, she doesn’t even go here…!” he said as he walked off, refusing to argue with mark. william was right, you hadn’t stopped him from attending classes. he’d just become a little obsessed maybe, wanted to keep an eye on you just in case. mark could only think back to the first day he’d met you, how you’d been drunk from before noon and how you looked like you needed help, how his mother’s words buzzed around in his head… he still hung onto that, taking himself up as your personal guardian angel without your knowledge.

you open your phone when you leave the shower, whatever music that had been playing through it stopping as you pressed pause to focus on the words on your screen:

william🤞

prty @ 242 6pm. bring back his jacket 🙄

you tilt your head slightly before you remember what he’s talking about. you dry your hands, opening your phone to respond,

y/n

omw ❤️

is all you type, not bothering to look at the notification that made your phone buzz before you rush to your little vanity, ready to doll yourself up for the evening and throw on some clothes, pairing them with the jacket you’d now have to return. you get an influx of messages on your phone suddenly, the group chat of the girls in your sorority letting you know that they’d also be attending, emojis and gifs and reaction images galore as you scroll through your phone. the girls wanted to go colour coordinated, all in the same pink miniskirts and black tank tops. you, however, wore a black miniskirt with a pink tank top, just to differentiate yourself from the rest of your hive. you didn’t remember exactly when you’d gotten william’s number but he was useful at times. plus, you thought he was pretty fun to hang around with! that, and the fact that he was mark’s best friend.

when you get to the OOA house music is already blaring and some of the boys are already sat out on the porch, some members of your sorority had shown up a few minutes prior. probably the new girls, you think, knowing the other girls wouldn’t make a mistake as grave as showing up earlier than you. for once, you’re gonna let it go. you were in a good mood today, felt like you were finally going to get your hands all over that slippery prick. you didn’t know why you had your sights set on him, you could be with literally anyone else. you told yourself it was pride, he’d offended you by rejecting you. pretty girls never knew when to quit, especially the rich and spoiled ones like yourself. you made heads turn towards you, as per usual. compliments flooded into your ears, dry “thank you”’s and “aww you’re so cute”’s leaving your mouth, hiding the scowl you had plastered under your perfect demeanour.

you scanned the room, looking for one person in particular, pushing away drinks that had been offered to you before you decided to just give up, plopping yourself down on the same sofa mark had been typing his essay on hours prior, finally giving in when william approaches you, swaying a little as he walked, already wasted by the looks of it. you put on a fake smile, trying to stop yourself from having a full on temper tantrum over not being able to find the guy you’d gotten all dressed up for, wearing his jacket, having no fun at the party his frat house was throwing. william opens his mouth before closing it again like a fish, trying to find his words, “y-you came..!” he speaks loudly, placing his cup on the coffee table in front of you, already littered with other people’s drinks as he throws his arms around you in a hug, “duh, it’s not a party til i’m here.” you say, your friendly tone threatening to falter as you looked down at your nails, observing them as if they had better things going on. you return his drunken embrace, giggling when he accidentally spills his drink on himself.

“you bought it, good..! you wouldn’t believe his b-..b-bitching- earlier-“ he covers his mouth with his hand to stop himself from burping at the last part of his sentence, gesturing towards the jacket you had draped over your shoulders to which you nod and smile, patience wearing thin. if william was here then where the fuck was mark? you wanted to ask him where the rest of him was, though didn’t think he’d understand as fast in his drunken state. tipsy wasn’t even the word. “it just looked so similar to mine, ha!” you lied, finally taking one of the empty cups out of the plastic sleeve and helping yourself to the bottle of vodka that stood in the middle, pouring orange juice straight into it afterwards to try and mask the sharp taste. william laughs, you drink.

“actually- he’s upstairs. studying or whate-ever.” william points to the ceiling, brushing some of his hair out of his face, “i can go give it to him if you like-“ and just like his conversation with mark earlier, he’s cut off short again by you springing up with a no, forgetting about your drink as it spilled over the rim, the whole thing splashing over your shirt. you gasp and squeak, william tries to stifle a loud laugh that would’ve bought all of the attention to you. even while drunk he knew not to put his reputation on the line, and his reputation he did kind of value. nobody wanted to draw unnecessary attention to you, the last person who had done that had been trashed so badly they had to move out of the state after a few months of non stop rumours. you sigh, defeated as you pick up someone’s jumper - they shouldn’t have left it out in the first place if they didn’t want you to use it as a cloth - and trying to soak all of the alcohol out of the black fabric. “bathroom upstairs- mark’s in the room to the r-right— ugh, i’m gonna throw up,” william says as he retches, cheeks puffing out before he takes his leave, sprinting into the back garden to puke in a plant pot. a few more compliments, you’re flirted with by a guy for like five minutes, you take a few more swigs of someone else’s drink and you’re headed upstairs, looking for the bathroom and hoping nobody had started fucking in there so you could act out your ever developing plan.

your eyes lit up when you successfully pushed the door and it wasn’t locked, closing it behind you and twisting the latch so nobody would intrude on you. lifting your shirt over your head, you’re careful to not let the fabric ruin your makeup. the next thing that’s discarded is your bra, winking at yourself in the mirror and jiggling your boobs experimentally, making sure your girls looked their best. you then put mark’s jacket on, sleeves coming past your hands as the hem just barely missed your knees. you didn’t hang out or interact with him often, you never get the chance and it’s frustrating, but you’re reminded of the potential size difference between you and him when you put on his jacket. showtime. if this didn’t get you laid tonight, you’d have to get a new name and move out of the COUNTRY out of embarrassment of coming off as desperate. to the right, a door that had large posters on the surface, some stickers peeled away and faded from years of being piled up on the door. a sock on the handle. no fucking way.

this had never happened before. nobody had ever wanted to fuck someone else before sticking it in you. you wanted to scream, rip your hair out and stomp your feet until you fell through the fucking ceiling. this wasn’t fucking happening, the boy you’d had your eyes on was not fucking another girl in this room. you saw red, the reality of not getting your way this time hitting you hard, your hand flying to the handle to twist it open, ready to have a cat fight if necessary. you felt like a steaming bull, felt like steam was coming out of your nose and ears cartoonishly. you didn’t even know what you were gonna do when you saw him and whoever the fuck that stupid bitch was, all you knew was that you hadn’t gotten what you wanted and it was time to let everyone know that.

you’re ready to bite his head off, both of them, blind rage taking over before you lay your eyes on the sight in front of you. he sat with his legs open, pants at his ankles with his head thrown back momentarily, hand going up and down between his thighs with his other hand holding up his shirt before he’s shuffling to cover himself, wide eyed and cursing with his cute face all beet red. “o-out..! get out-!” he stutters, voice cracking as he rushes to close the door, traping you behind it again. you’re stunned, never seen anything so… erotic before. you wished he wore shorts, the way his toned thighs flinched and tensed made you want to slide yourself up and down them, the small snippet of his abs you wished you’d had a longer look at before being blocked from entering… why’d he hide his body away for so long you’d never know. oh how you wished you’d seen his dick, imagining it made your mouth water. you shake your head, clearing your mind to prevent it from clouding with thoughts of lust, you couldn’t have your pussy leaking just yet. were you really so desperate for dick that you’d get wet without even seeing it? just the mental image of him, lip tugged between his teeth, pleasured expression barely visible? get your act together, you thought, breathing heavily before steadying yourself, standing up straight and knocking on his door.

“maaaarrrrkk…” you whine loudly, fist slamming against the posters, “i didn’t see anything, i swear..! but… i also won’t tell anyone if you let me in.” you offer teasingly, smiling wide when you heard a loud groan from the other side, followed by loud footsteps, followed by the door swinging open, mark avoiding your gaze with gritted teeth. he also wasn’t stupid, also had a reputation to keep squeaky clean. he’d had enough of you. for real, this time. he had enough of how you were the bitch who could make or break him if he ever slighted you in any way, had enough of the way you taunted him from afar, had enough of your complete and utter rudeness - who the hell even barges in when there’s a sock on the door? - he’d just had enough. he stood there, arms crossed as you took in your surroundings, blue and yellow scheme familiar to the clothes he wore... then it hit you, this was mark’s room. it wasn’t weird to have people living at a frat house, some people owned them. you wondered how he felt having to listen to music and people yelling and drinking all night, though that thought was quickly brushed away by mark’s voice,

“that’s mine.” he says bluntly, cheeks still pink as he points to his jacket that you wore, still standing at the door like some sort of bouncer. you nod, closing the door behind you and ignoring his words, “nice room y’got… seance dog? how old are you?” you joke, helping yourself to the shelf where stacked comic books stood, picking one up and flicking through it. mark walked towards you, snatching it out of your hands and putting it back, “again, that’s mine. i want my jacket back, y/n. then you should leave.” he spoke matter-of-factly, glaring at you for a second as you rolled your eyes, sitting on his bed and making yourself at home. “ugh, you’re still mad about it? i’m sorry we have the same jacket. i was drunk! fuck, man.” you shoot a glare back, yours with a grin. he’s had enough. he was at his boiling point, red hot rage was about to start bubbling over and you were the person he didn’t really want to take it out on. “y/n, i’m not gonna tell you again.” he warns, scowling at you as he approaches, fists balled up into his hands. this was probably the part of him people could most see his father in, his expression when he got angry. it didn’t scare you, it made you want to tease him more. so he thought he could intimidate you? he had another thing coming.

“you can’t make me. i’ll scream, you want everyone to come rushing up here?” you wouldn’t, you were only teasing. like a bolt of lightning, he’s tugging the zip of his jacket down, attempting to take it off of you and kick you out himself. you grabbed onto the zipper, trying to block his hands away from zipping it down any further, “taking back my shit and you can get the fuck out of here-“ he muttered, ignoring your sounds of protest, “mark— stop it, i’ll go i just-“ he doesn’t care, he’s trying to force your hands away, slapping at them and trying to restrain them to your sides, “shut up, shut the fuck up, give me back my fucking jacket, now—! you’re a liar, your jacket is hot-fucking-pink!” he’s more violent, grabbing the front and damn near shaking you around, your legs trying to kick him away, “m-mark, please-! stop, stop it!” there’s almost tears in your ears as you try to fight him off, remembering how you’d taken off your shirt and left it in the bathroom, with your bra.

mark couldn’t care less about his jacket or if it would be ruined, it was about the principle. more pulling, more trying to hold your hands away, more grabbing the jacket and trying to pull it off before— schzzzzt. fuck. the zipper popped, your protests stopped and mark’s huffs calmed down, eyes settling on your bare chest. tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked up at him, not expecting to have his eyes meet yours. he looks pissed, he’s had enough of you. right now, mark didn’t give a shit about what you were going through, didn’t care about being nice. you’d tipped him over, now he’s really annoyed with you. “mark,” you shuffle away, jumping with a surprised gasp when you feel his hands wrap around your ankles and pull you back to your place, the action making your skirt and his duvet catch on each other, hiking your skirt up to expose your underwear. it was like he wasn’t even looking at your body, keeping his eyes on yours at all times. you open your mouth again and his hand flies to your face, covering your mouth to prevent you from talking at all. now you’re scared, now you’re intimidated. so scared, yet your stomach flipped and your cunt fluttered around nothing when he silenced you with his palm.

“shut up, you bitch.” he snarled, tightening his grip on your face by pushing your cheeks together. it almost hurt, almost. mark shook his head, “what’s wrong with you? you wanna make me mad? for fucks sake—“ his words make your clit throb, your thighs slowly shifting to meet each other so you could move your hips around and get yourself off a little. this was hot, mark was serious. “you’re gonna scream? what the fuck, y/n, what the fuck is your problem!?” you’re wet. fuck, you’re wet and you’re being yelled at. this was the shit you’d see in porn, but for real. no acting, just a coincidence. when he lets you go to get off of you, he finally lets himself catch a glimpse of the wet spot that’s forming in your panties. he should’ve never looked, now he’s caught a sneak of your tits. the noise he makes is halfway between a groan and a sarcastic chuckle, pushing his hair back with the same hand he used to cover your mouth, “now you’re gonna go and leak all over my bed? after trying to go through my stuff?” mark can’t ignore the way his cock strains in his pants, the way it twitches as he glances over you again. any normal person would’ve ran out of his room, trying to cover themselves with the broken jacket and probably never speak to him again. then again, you weren’t a normal person, you were rich. hadn’t ever been told no or been scolded like this before or at all for that matter. you were truly stunned, felt like a deer in headlights.

“m’sorry, sorry..” you finally peep, sniffing as tears dripped down your face. he groaned, clearly annoyed by your antics now, “now you’re gonna cry? now you’re crying, you did this. stop crying, they’re not real tears.” he spits and you obey, quickly wiping your face, black streaks of mascara on your hands as well as your face. fuck, you looked gorgeous like this. you clearly wanted it. you didn’t look like you did, if anyone had burst through like you had earlier they’d definitely get the wrong idea - the worst idea - the kind of idea that stops you from getting a job in your desired field in the future if interpreted the wrong way. mark swallowed thickly. “y’gonna scream?” he asks and you shake your head no without even processing the question, looking up at him with big wide eyes.

you’re on your stomach, clawing at the bedsheets and messing up the way he’d made his bed this morning, face being pressed into a pillow by a heavy hand, mark’s hand. he’s thrusting into you, hips crashing violently against yours over and over again, got your legs trapped between his as he’s using you like you’re a toy, his other hand gripping onto the fat of your ass to help the momentum of his thrusts. your moans are muffled, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto his pillow as you kept your head pressed into the soft cotton pillow, taking in his scent. god, he was jabbing right against your cervix and you let out a particularly loud whine which makes the brute above you lean in to you, his chest pressing against your back so he could talk into your ear meanly, “what’s that? i can’t. fucking. understand. you.” he punctuated each word with a sharp jab into your g-spot, your wrists aching from how hard you were grabbing around at the sheets. he knew you hadn’t said anything, just wanted to tease you like you’d teased him. he’d stripped you naked before you were taking his cock so deliciously right now, tearing your panties off and shaking you out of his jacket which laid beside you. now this was worth playing the hard to get game.

“hey, y/n? you wanna scream?” mark said, sweat beading at his temples as he moaned when he felt your gummy walls close in on him with his words. you shake your head, an almost inaudible ‘no’ coming from the pillow before his arm is hooked around your neck, lifting you up. this new position made you arch your back, leaving you in a dreamy daze as your eyes adjusted to the light of the room again after having your head forced down for so long, “i said, you wanna scream?” he repeats, you shake your head, “n-no-! no, m’m-sorry fuck, mark, i’m sorry—!” you squeal, voice hoarse as he tightens his arm, putting you in a headlock and moving his other hand to your stomach to hold you in place. he was moving so fast, his fat dick throbbed and stretched and rubbed against allll the right places. no other boy had fucked you til your head spun, made you feel so defenceless and inferior… you’d never been filled up this good, you’d been choked, sure - but a headlock? your cunt gripped him tightly, vision dotting as your body shook violently in his grasp, his fingers now swiping over your hard little clit, making you try to stifle the loud half scream of his name somehow, biting your lip with your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“that’s fucking nasty.” he moaned, watching as you sprayed all over his sheets with your body convulsing, hissing when your pussy started to milk him vigorously as you came. he didn’t stop, only let go of you and watched as you thumped onto the bed weakly, trying to lift yourself up before he’s drilling you with his cock again. you’re hardly responsive, body still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, not even noticing how you’d laid in your own release until you blinked a few times, the feeling finally coming back into your body that mark had knocked numb for a second, “p-please-“ you gasped out, hand reaching down to tap at his thigh. he swiped it away, grabbing your wrist and jerking your body back to meet his, obsessed with the way your bodies made smacking sounds when he snapped his pelvis into your rear. “you gonna bother me again after this? look at you, you’re lying in your own mess- oh fuck, keep tightening like that—“ he growls into your ear, balls slapping against your sensitive clit from behind. you couldn’t think, your thoughts being fucked out of your brain with every rough jab to your cervix, words forming and failing to put them together into understandable sentences. he’s just as blissed out, his anger had faded forever ago, replaced by a carnal urge to just fuck, keep plunging himself in and out of your weeping cunt.

you whine when he pulls out with a pop, lines of your slick coating his cockhead and sticking to it before they snapped and dribbled down onto the soaked sheets below you, his hands grabbing your waist so he could flip you onto your back this time, taking you by surprise and finally waking you up out of whatever dreamy daze you’d been in. this is just how you felt earlier but better, you were scared of him sure but you’ve never been so turned on, you’d never had someone defy you before, you asked for a pony when you were younger and threatened a tantrum which got you your pony, your parents would rather give you whatever you wanted instead of saying a simple no. you stare up at him, he stares down at you. call you crazy, maybe you were finally being put in your place, but having someone hover over you like this, possessive and firm, made you feel as if you had no power at all. mark didn’t care about who you were or what you could do to ruin him anymore, especially since he’d already ruined you. mascara streaked down the sides and front of your face which made tracks in your foundation, your lipstick had been smudged from having your face pressed into the pillow for so long and you were pretty sure you were missing an eyelash (which you were; stuck to the bedsheets and twisted and ruined, you’d have to buy another pair).

mark grabs one of your legs with his hands, pulling you close to him as he leaned in, body pushing your knee up to your shoulder albeit a little painfully, eliciting an uncomfortable mewl from you in the process. you felt as if you couldn’t talk, if you opened your mouth you’d die or something. you’d taken mark for a virgin what with the way he awkwardly shuffled his feet when you spoke to him, the way he never picked up on or wanted to pursue your advances. “don’t look at me like that.” he grits, eyebrows furrowing at the way you pouted at him. you hadn’t even noticed but now you’ve made him mad so now he’s pushing into you again, spearing you open on his dick wet with your slick, your expression changing as you raised your brows, eyes squeezed shut with your mouth hanging open like you were trying to catch flies. he moves his hands, hooking them under your knees so he could pull you back and forth against himself, cock throbbing and begging for release when you start tightening again, lewd gasps and moans coming from your spit slicked and ruined lipstick lips. he can’t stand you, can’t stand the way you’re moaning and trying to say his name while having all knowledge knocked out of you over and over again with stabs repeatedly hitting that same sensitive spot with brutal thrusts, hoping your hips didn’t break every time his crashed into yours.

then, a moment of weakness, “am i pretty?” you ask between whines, small and timid like a rabbit. he’s broken out of his current demeanour, tilting his head. mark feared he’d falter, he’d already given you what you wanted by using you like you were nothing but a warm crevice to slide his cock into. you already knew you were pretty, you just needed to hear it from him. needed to hear it from the guy you’d been chasing for months since you’d stumbled upon him, needed to have confirmation that he was attracted to you. his thrusts almost slow down - almost - before he nods, biting his lip to stop the groan that wanted to respond, “y-yeah, pretty..” mark finally mumbles, hips stuttering as the warm coil that tightened in his stomach threatened to snap. you could feel it too, you could feel the way his cock throbbed, the way the head twitched when it pressed against your cervix every time mark canted his hips up into yours, stretching your pussy around him, churning up your insides so they could only think of him. “pretty, really pretty…” he babbles as he tries to keep his thrusts steady, “also p-pretty fucking mean, stupid…” he continues, trying to ignore the way a pleasured shock creeped up his spine and made his legs shake like yours had before.

you were going to cum again, you could feel it. familiar tingles and twinges picking at you before you felt it fully, the mind numbing sensation of an orgasm being fucked out of you again. mark isn’t any better, chasing his own pleasure with his head tilted back steady “hah, hah, hah”’s slipping out of his mouth. working for stuff really was fun sometimes, even if you had to wait a while to get it. you’re lost, back arching up off of the bed with your waist subtly moving in time with his, catching small hazy blinks of him before his face is closer to yours, not even waiting to kiss you. his tongue is bigger than yours, as with the rest of him, completely pushing your tongue away as he kisses into your mouth, muffling both of your sounds as his thrusts became more and more uneven. he’s cumming, hard and fast and with no consideration whether you were on birth control or not, painting your pink walls with his white cum and leaving his mark deep inside you, seeping into your womb with thick globs. you came as soon as he did, dry this time, arms flailing to grab onto his back to anchor yourself. your cunt squeezed around him, trying to milk all of his release into you. you weren’t on the pill but you didn’t care, you could always get that sorted later.

mark didn’t pull out, huffing slightly as he came back to, blinking at your shaking form below him. if it had been porn, he’d feel bad, close the tab and ignore his post nut clarity. this time, even with all of the thoughts in his head telling him that he’d just broken you down, used you like you were disposable, he couldn’t help but feel accomplished. you might’ve won by getting him to fuck you but he’s won the ice cold heart of the mean bitch that’s now laying in her own squirt on his bed, twitching every now and again to show how much you’d enjoyed it. he sighs, shaking his head and pulls out of you, watching for a second as his cum slowly starts to spill out of your aching pussy, ruining his bedsheets even further, “you still here..?” he asks, looking over at you before he’s headed back over to where he’d stripped off all of his clothes, quickly dressing himself back up as he puts his boxers back on, sliding his jeans back up his legs and looking over at your limp body on his bed. you don’t respond with words, only a faint nod, your body still swimming in the warmth that you’d been pushed into by mark. you could feel the way his cum dribbled out of you messily, leaking down your lower half and soaking up the sheets even further.

you’re pulled from your bliss with mark’s words, unexpected and apologetic, “want me to clean you up?” and you melt, nodded with a small ‘uh-huh’ as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him and knocking the sock off in the process. he’d return a moment later, towel in hand with one corner wet with warm water, patting you down gently, stark contrast to how he was just a minute ago. mark wasn’t mean but he’d tried to be nice and nice just wasn’t working for him - wasn’t working for you - so he had to show you how mean he could really be, had to counteract you somehow. you flinched when he started wiping your cunt, hissing when he bumped against your overly sensitive clit with the towel. he muttered a small sorry, drying you up and leaving once more, the sounds of the music from downstairs louder for a second before the door is closed, louder again and then muffled when he comes back with your shirt and bra, tossing it to your side. he avoided your gaze, absently fiddling around with something in the corner of his room, waiting for you to put your clothes back on. you get the memo, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching out for his jacket before you backed away from it, remembering that you’d come here to return the thing.

as you stood up to look around for your underwear and skirt, your thighs twitch as you feel his cum leaking between your legs, trickling down slowly. you could clean up properly later, sliding your panties and the skirt back to where they had left. “look,” he started, turning your attention towards him, “you can have it. just.. bring it back on saturday. there’s another party or something, ask william.” mark turns to you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. you perk up as you clasp the strap to your heels back on, legs feeling like jelly as you moved to face him. you nod with a smile, eyes bright and sparkling like he’d just told you you’d won a billion dollars, “saturday, same time?” you ask, walking towards the door and resting your hand on the doorknob. mark hums at you, a silent yes. you take your leave, his broken jacket draped over your shoulders again as you make your way to the front door, ready to leave so you could go back to the dorm room you weren’t supposed to live in and sleep the next few days away. you couldn’t wait to party at house 242 again.

mark watched you walk away from the porch, your hands in his jacket’s pockets, the material swallowing you up to keep you warm. he shook his head, once again pinching the skin between his eyes, grabbing himself a clean towel so he could shower and fall asleep to the music that blared underneath him. mark thought he’d had enough of you.

now, he couldn’t get enough.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Kiss Me Softly: Leon Kennedy x Pregnant!Reader (NSFW)

someone sent this to the old blog and I forgot to move it over here when I killed off the ask box but I do remember what you want the premise to be anon, I got you.

Contains: Pregnant sex, breast worship and good ol' dirty talk

The sensation was almost burning in your core. Slowly, heating up more and more somewhere deep in your gut to the point you had started to even wonder if you’ve ever felt normal since you had gotten pregnant; Especially since you’ve hit your third trimester. The sensation only got worse when he would leave, off to some little corner of the world for God knows how long before he would always find his way back home to you. Days like those were always exciting.

Even now, as you were alone and lying on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you stared at the clock on your phone. He would be home any minute after spending all day in some office, and any minute, he’d walk right through that door.

The feeling inside of you was blazing at this point. It wasn’t heartburn or trapped gas, but a lustrous heat that only your loving husband could stomp out. It clawed up at your ribcage, spiking right through your heart, clawing right at your mind. The heat inside of you was heavy and warm, especially where it sat nice and pretty right in between your legs.

You could feel it pooling right at your cervix, you could feel your own heartbeat through the delicate skin. You could feel the warm honey dripping from your petals. Your own attempts of getting off didn’t work out well. Not only was it hard to do being so far along, it also didn’t feel right. You needed to feel the stretch only his fingers and especially his cock could give you.

Fuck, you wanted him- no, you needed him. You needed Leon to take you so badly that it started to hurt. You needed his touch, you needed his sweet words in your ear, you needed his lips on your body. Just the thought of him taking you like this had the heat blooming hotter.

And then you heard it, the soft clicking at the door of Leon inserting his key and turning. You sat up as quickly as you could but didn’t stand, eyes alert and staring at the door as you watched intently at it swing open to reveal your husband.

His face lit up upon seeing you, his normally cold eyes shined like oceans at just one look at you. And that smile, shit, how it made your spine tingle in all of the right places.

“You waited up for me?”

His words were sweet and dark, like a fine wine you craved to drink.

“I wanted to,” you purred.

You tried to stand up, barely able to lift yourself at an awkward angle before Leon had helped you out. His strong hands on either hip gently lifting you up from the couch, making sure you were steady on your feet, both of you facing each other now.

His hands drifted to your swollen belly, pressing his palms flat against the delicate skin as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“How have my girls been?” he glanced up into your eyes before falling back to your belly.

“Your daughter’s been using me as a punching bag all day since you let,” you huffed. “And I’ve been missing you.”

“I’m sorry,” he pressed a kissed to your lips as he rubbed soothing circles against you. “But just think; One more month and she’ll be here.” And he’ll be given a very generous paternity leave too. “Can I get you anything? You have to be so tired by now, sweetheart.”

Oh, how the lightbulb went off in your head.

You brought your arms up and trailed them along his forearms up to his strong biceps to his broad shoulders. Your massaged at his shoulders and traced at the strong columns of his neck with a soft hum.

“There is one thing you can do,” you purred.

You know for a fact that Leon did not miss that little mischievous look in your eyes.

“And what might that be?”

You knew he knew just from his tone, all heavy and dark. His lips pulled back into a knowing smirk as he brought himself as close to you as your pregnant belly would allow. Just being under his gaze had your knees feeling weak.

“I need you,” you whispered to your husband. “Please, Leon, I need you.”

He could listen to your begging all day long and never get tired of it.

Before you could process it, Leon had wrapped his arms around and scooped you up, holding you bridal style as he stepped lively towards the bedroom. You gasped softly and clung to his shoulders, earning you a deep chuckle from him as pressed a kiss to your neck. The scratch of his stubble felt so fucking good that it pulled a soft moan from your lips, one of your hands came up to his hair and carded your fingers through his thick dirty blond locks. Were you this touch starved for him that just the scratch of his facial hair would do you in?

Leon barely stumbled through the hall before he gently kicked open the bedroom door with his boot. His long legs strode right across the bedroom as he gently set you down at the foot of the bed. He didn’t get up though, and only pushed you down until your back was flush with the sheets and he was hovering over you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss once more, one of his large hands embedded itself in the sheets right next to your head while the other grabbed onto your body, gently kneading your soft hip causing you to purr into the kiss.

Leon pulled back with a smirk, your noses brushing against one another, his eyes cloudy with hazy lust.

“I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess,” he chuckled darkly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me, Leon,” you spurred him on. “Please?”

Leon pressed a kiss to your lips as his hand on your waist slid down to your thigh. He squeezed the soft flesh before inching your legs apart. He pressed his knee between the part he had created, you knew he could feel just how wet you were. He hummed against your lips as he stood up fully. He moved his knee away to make room for his other hand, agile fingers rubbing your pussy through the fabric of your pants and underwear. His eyes lit up with a devious glint at just the feeling of how horny you were for him.

“Already this wet for me, dove? All I did was just kiss you.” His eyes briefly looked down at your clothed pussy and then back at you. “Or did you already get started without me?”

“I-I’m sorry Leon. Please, I need you,” you whimpered.

His hand that had parted your thighs traced mindless shapes on the side of your belly.

“I can’t blame you. You’ve been insatiable since I knocked you up, always needing me, always begging for more.” God, just the way his hair fell into his eyes, how he was standing over you, how he just looked at you - it was all perfect. He slid his hand past the waistband of the loose yoga pants that sat around your waist and curled his fingers around your panties. You lifted your ass just a bit like a good wife so he could slide the damned things off your legs and let them pool to the floor. His eyes immediately locked onto your perfect pussy all wet and dripping just for him. “Look at this; All for me.”

“Leon-”

He snatched at your waist and hoisted you more onto the bed until your head hit the pillows, propping you up just a bit. Leon climbed onto the bed and spread your legs apart as far as they would go. The cool air of the room sparked at your exposed womanhood, the poor thing throbbed with a carnal need for your husband as he bent over. He grasped at both of your ankles and drew them over his shoulders as he finally buried his tongue into your pussy.

You found yourself crying out of pleasure instantly. Your back arched a bit off the bed as your eyes screwed shut, the pillows cradled at your neck while your mind went completely blank. Leon growled a bit into your pussy as he tongue fucked you, he held your ankles loosely, encouraging you to wrap them around and squeeze his head. You mewled and moaned, hands snatching at the blankets as you panted and cried. Your throat seized, your heart fluttered, your core was dripping with hot honey for him to lap up with that tongue of his.

One of his hands let go of your ankle to finger your poor womanhood, his finger rubbing with vigor as his tongue lapped up your sweet taste. He never left you empty, when his tongue would roll out he would immediately replace it with his finger only to repeat the process.

You squeezed your eyes closed and sank your head back into the pillows even more only for Leon to abruptly pull away. Your eyes flew open and your head shot up to look at him with those desperate eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, “and don’t stop looking.”

You shivered at his voice, all dark and bossy, just like how he would order you around in bed before you were pregnant. A part of you missed that side of Leon, the part that always pushed you past your limits, forcing you over the edge multiple times, dragging on your agony before he would let you climax. You missed how rough he could be. He never did that to you while you were pregnant, though.

You maintained eye contact to the best of your ability despite your fluttering eyelids threatening to squeeze shut as your orgasm started to clench at your core. He had propped you up so you both could look at each other over your pregnant belly, his stormy blue eyes were truly something to get lost in as you came against his mouth.

You cried aloud as he continued to tongue fuck you, adamant on lapping up your sweet taste and not missing a single drop until you had run clean. He gently placed your legs back down on the bed before he stood up. He wiped his lower lip with his thumb, gathering what little of your orgasm that had been left before he licked it off. His cheeks were blushed with a soft pink and his pupils were blown wide with lust.

“It’s almost like you got sweeter when I got you pregnant,” he purred.

He shucked off his jacket and threw it aside before he swiftly pulled off his shirt with a single motion. You couldn’t help but flush at the sight of him. Sure, you’ve seen him naked, and especially shirtless, plenty of times but you couldn’t help it. You had him all to yourself. He snatched at his belt and undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving him only his boxers. His erection was obvious, the poor thing straining against the thin and dark material. You could a little wet spot forming as his head leaked his salty precum.

God, you wanted to taste it so badly.

He noticed you watching intently and decided to give you a little show. He slowly peeled away at the waistband of his boxers despite your soft groans of protest. His stupid smirk really only showed how much of a little shit he really was.

“Please, don’t tease me,” you begged, still out of breath from getting fucked with his tongue.

Leon dropped his boxers, letting his poor dick spring free. He groaned a little bit when it sprung free, one of his hands squeezed at the base of his cock and pumped himself a few times. He ran his thumb over the precum that had beaded out, smearing it across his head as he continued to eye you.

“I love how you look,” he said near-breathless, “all soft with my child. You look so fucking gorgeous. I should get you pregnant more often.” 

Your face lit aflame at his words. He really did have a pregnancy kink, huh? Leon once again climbed on top of you, caging you in his arms. His hands planted themselves on either side of your head, fingers curling against the wooden headboard. You spread your legs as you felt the head of Leon’s cock rutting against your swollen pussy, barely splitting your petals apart, teasing you unjustly.

He slowly thrust into you, your mouth fell open into an airy cry of pleasure that had drifted into a content sigh when he buried himself up to the root in you. Your chest seized and your back arched into him as much as you could. Your hands came up to grab at Leon’s brawny shoulders, desperately needing something to ground you as your nails sank into his skin. Leon moaned as your pussy squeezed around him, panting like a dog from just one thrust inside of you.

Leon unscrewed his eyes as he started to thrust at a slow pace, his hips rocking back and forth to ease open your clenching walls. His eyes landed on your breasts, his throat bobbed, his hands snatched at the headboard so hard that it started to groan and creak under his grip.

“God, just look at you. I love how you look like this, dove,” he said breathlessly.

He unlatched one of his hands to grab at your breast, pawing and kneading it as you bounced in his grip from his thrusts. It was heavy and warm in his hand, full of developing milk. He brought his head down and latched his mouth on your other breast, biting and kissing the plump flesh until he latched onto your nipple. You moaned aloud, the crown of your skull burying deeper into the pillow as Leon sucked at your breast like a man starved. His other hand had started to knead slower, his fingers coming up to pinch at your nipple. You hissed and sighed over and over as he drank from your breast, your nails driving in deeper.

When Leon had had his fill, he unlatched himself from your nipple but not without rolling his teeth gently over the poor abused thing to illicit a shrill moan from you. He buried his lips in your neck as his quickened his pace, his stomach flexing and his back arching in with his thrusts. His stubble scratched at your skin deliciously as his teeth ghosted over the crook of your neck.

“I could drink from you all day,” he growled in your ear. You moaned, you couldn’t form words right with your mouth, your mind was too fuzzy as you chased your second orgasm. Leon chuckled darkly in your ear, biting gently at your throat. “I can’t wait until I’m home on leave. I’m gonna pamper you, you’re not gonna lift a finger. I’ll take care of you. Do you want that?” You nodded your head, unable to form words, only moans and cries. “I can’t wait until I can knock you up again,” he growled right into your ear. “I’ll knock you up like the slut you are.” Your walls fluttered around his cock, your eyes started to flutter shut when Leon snatched at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when I’m fucking you.” Fuck, his words really drove it home for you. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum right on my dick.”

[macabr3-barbi3]

a request, a need, a plea even:

shotgun kiss with human!alastor

ANON I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX SINCE MAY 😭 I PROMISE I NEVER FORGOT ABOUT YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY

The air is cold when you step outside the diner, fingers trembling and goosebumps erupting along your arms. You had claimed it was for a smoke break, but really you just needed to get out of the building for a moment- the loud, boisterous group that had taken up residence at one of your tables had been grating on your nerves all night, and you knew they weren’t going to tip well, so you just needed a break. You had forgotten your cigarettes at home, and your fingers itch to actually hold one between them, but you would take whatever reprieve you could get. 

Gravel crunches nearby, and you turn to see a man step into the alleyway behind the diner with you. Tall, lean muscles and a mop of dark, curly hair, you greet Alastor with a smile as you always did. He gives you a wave, soft and timid as he approaches, like you haven’t had weeks of time to get to know one another on your smoke breaks during work; you from the diner, him from the broadcast station across the alley.

You make polite conversation for the better part of your break, talking about his most recent shows and the reporting that he had been doing on the serial killer in New Orleans a couple towns over. As always, the air is amicable and comfortable between the two of you while he smokes down towards the butt of his cigarette. It was always nice to spend time with him- he was polite, charming, and handsome as the Devil himself. Who could blame a gal for falling a little bit in love?

Your coworker steps out and lets you know that your table had skipped out without paying, shooting a wink your way when she notices Alastor with you, and the need for a nicotine hit increases tenfold; you’re ashamed to admit to fluttering your lashes coyly at him. “Alastor, you mind if I bum one of those off you?” You ask him demurely, gesturing to the cigarette he holds as he brings it to his lips and to the light.

“Ah, haven’t you learned to keep your own on hand after all this time? I’m afraid this is my last one, my dear,” he says, and your heart sinks while you watch him blow rings into the cool air of the night. “Don’t look so put out,” he chuckles, stepping closer and wrapping a hand around your waist- the shock of it prevents you from putting up any real fight against it, relishing in the warmth that greets you when he pulls you into his chest. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t share.” He takes another strong suck of the cigarette and leans down into your personal space, hand coming up from your waist to coax your lips open with his thumb before he slides it into your hair.

He cranes his neck to meet at your height, lips just barely brushing yours before he’s exhaling smoke into your mouth; you inhale greedily, the sweet buzz of the nicotine mixing with something spicy and dark, so unmistakably Alastor that it makes your head swim. He’d never been so forward before, had never even asked you out to a bar or to dance before, and here he was pressing your lips together like it was second nature to share the air in one another’s lungs. It burns in your veins in the best way possible.

The motion is repeated, over and over with the ash of the cigarette dropping down over his fingers as he puffs and breathed them into you. Your own hands come up to clutch at the fabric of his shirt, like without it you might simply drop to the floor. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your lashes flutter every time he backs off for normal oxygen once again, his own eyes half-lidded and dilated with every pass that the smoke takes between the two of you.

His tongue flicks against yours as he pulls away the final time; the cigarette has burned down to the end, and his usual smile is back in place. “How was that?” Alastor asks softly, using the hand that had parted your lips to cup your cheek, gazing down at you in the dim glow of the streetlight. “You think that was enough of a hit?”

“I- I think I might need another,” you manage to breathe out, and he laughs low and dark, the remnants of the cigarette dropping to the ground where he grinds it in with his heel as he holds you close to him and leans in for a proper, smokeless kiss.

[pinkaditty]

Could we have some after-sex headcannons with Rook and MC? I feel like he's the type of guy to bathe in the afterglow

okok anon i know it's been like ten thousand years since i received this ask but please know i never forgot abt you and i love you for submitting an ask <3

cw: mention of sex, implied sexual encounters, implied and mentioned threesome, penetrative mention, and i think that's all!

a/n: woooooo answering asks!!! i will answer others in the coming weeks i PROMISE i see your asks and i will deliver! <3 my reqs are open so please feel free to ask me anything!!! :)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY! PLEASE!

first off anon you're TOTALLY RIGHT Rook 1000% bathes in the afterglow and just lays there for a moment after his orgasm bc he always makes sure he's last, prioritizing your orgasm.

sometimes he doesn't even need to get off, fully satisfied after he's made you finish however many times you requested or he felt like doing

definitely is an aftercare person, but he's not immediate with it. he takes his time, slow and steady with it.

he'll kiss you a few times on your forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin, thanking you for the enjoyable time and experience

he'll hold you close too, regardless of how naked the two of you are. he's going to squeeze you flush against him.and y'all will just lay there for like. half an hour or something. he won't deprive you of aftercare too long.

then he'll get up for a while, and though you miss his warmth, he's running a warm bath for you so it won't be long.

once it's filled to the brim of warm water and all the right skin products to create the perfect bubble bath, he either walks you or carries you to the bath and gently places you in there.

no, he's not joining you, at least not immediately. he's bathing you. literally stroking his hands across every nook and cranny of your skin and I mean everywhere. Literally.

once he's bathed you, he might join you, happy to cuddle you in the warm water and wash your hair or have you bathe him in return.

maybe another round lol

after the bath, he picks you up out of there, dries you off, helps you with your hair before taking you back to his room and sitting you on a comfortable stool while he washes the sheets ofc and then makes his bed and puts you right back in the comfort of his sheets

bottom line he DOES NOT let you lift a finger lol like he's not gonna! not at all! even if he got his back blown out via pegging or fucking or what have you… he will not let you lift a finger. he's servicing you and that's that.

ok i want to entertain the possibility of Vil being present lol sooooo…

if you all had a threesome Vil is also helping pamper you except he absolutely joins you in the bath and the two of you wash each other as Rook helps wash your hair

Vil also is probably the fastest recovering and definitely will initiate a second round in the bath should he have both yours and Rook’s consent

he'll also go and run the bath if Rook is still cuddling you

he's just slightly more busybody not really his fault he'll still love to cuddle you

also after the bath he'll make sure to take you step by step through his skincare routine

maybe he'll practice makeup with you and Rook if you have the energy

if not he'll just cuddle with the two of you and either rest and enjoy each other's company or watch one of his father's movies or something like that

very pleasant experience either way

a/n: lol i might do this for other characters too bc this was kinda fun?? also im sorry if this like isn't up to par 😭😭 i am thinking about redoing it to be honestttt but just lmk if you'd like a redo im happy to oblige!

ofc as usual shameless bit that I love love loooooove reblogs, comments, and asks!! please let me know what you thought! I love to cater to you!

[writersrkive]

Together pt. 1 | Neteyam Sully

summary: [Request by Anon] Could you do a Neteyam x f!reader where she is the eldest child of Ronal and Tonowari? Being the eldest of two Olo’eyktan, they understand each other so much. One night, they confide in each other, Neteyam how he longs to come back to his home but can’t say anything as the perfect golden child and always have to watch out and take the blame for his siblings, even though he loves them more than anything. Reader confesses how much pressure and feels like a failure to her parents, and she is so deeply scared to death about her siblings that she loves more than anything. One thing leads to another, and they spend the night together (no smut, please). Comes the day after, and they do not speak to each other, so confused and refusing to acknowledge what happened. For fuck sake they are young and not mated. But Ewya has other plans for them and reader is pregnant. She tries to hide it especially from her parents as Neteyam and his family will probably be outcast and she will disappoint them so much.

gender: angst, hurt/comfort

pairing: Neteyam Sully x fem!metkayina!reader

warnings: characters are age up (18 years old), so I changed Neteyam’s age, allusion to sex, but NO SMUT, mention of young adult/teenage pregnancy (no romanization). Use of "y/n" maybe like three times.

a/n: my first request! And I took too long to write it (I'm sorry), that's why I have divided this in two parts. I have been a little stressed and feeling down, but I'm here. I hope anon and everyone enjoy this one. English is not my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist

“Where were you?” Neytiri asked her eldest son.

“Yeah. What happened to ‘keep an eye on your brother’?” his dad followed.

“Sorry, sir.” That was all Neteyam could say, even though his own answer was physically hurting him.

All the time, 24/7, he had to take care of Lo'ak. Maybe he didn't have the pressure of being the next Olo’eyktan anymore, but now, in a whole new clan, he had to prove everyone he was the mighty warrior, son of Toruk Makto. But his siblings didn't help. He loved his family, but he hated the way he had to be a third parent, especially when his younger brother almost died (which was definitely not his fault).

After the incident with Lo'ak, Neteyam decided he needed a break, so he walked, and walked, and walked until he found a spot where he could hide enough time until he felt better.

He liked the depth of the island because it reminded him of his home. The metkayina were mostly on the shores of the Island, so there was almost always no one in the forest. That's why Neteyam thought he had no company in the woods. Surprisingly, when he was enjoying his time alone (still upset) he heard a slight ‘thump’. It sounded like someone threw something at one of the trees.

Unlike home, this forest was not as full of vines or places to hide, but the green leaves didn’t allow to see around him easily. He forgot to bring his bow, but he always carried his knife, so he got into a defensive position and slowly, sharpening his hearing, he waited to hear another sound.

“Damn it.” a voice said.

Neteyam got closer carefully. The moonlight snuck into the middle of the treetops straight towards the person who was keeping him company, so he finally saw you.

The first thing he noticed was your beautiful hair braided on top and decorated with shells and ocean rocks, not forgetting your hairpiece, the one who reflected your status among the people. He recognized the elegant pearls your top had and the songcord that was hanging gracefully from your loincloth.

What was unusual and a little confusing was seeing your upset and distressed expression, since whenever he observed you from afar he looked at the relaxed and kind expression you gave to your people. Not like he was looking at you all the time.

Yo started to walk in circles, murmuring things he couldn't listen to. Apparently, his trained capacity of moving smoothly was so good you didn't notice his presence. When you turned around you immediately hiss and show your long sharp nails in a defensive way. When you recognize him, you let out a tired sight.

“Neteyam, you scared me.”

“Y/n, I see you.” He did the sign showing respect. “Sorry about scaring you, that was not my intention.”

Even if both of you were formal, actually, you guys were pretty familiar with each other. Because, of course, as the oldest daughter of the Olo’eyktan, you were there helping the Sullys when they arrive to the village and most of the time, when you weren't training with your mother, you liked to trained with them or just have a good time with them and your siblings.

“You seem pretty upset.” Neteyam talked first.

“Well, you too.”

Nobody said anything because no one wanted to show vulnerability. A thin tension started to build until you decided to let your guard down a little. It wasn't that you didn't trust Neteyam, but you weren't used to showing people when something was wrong. On the other hand, Neteyam wasn't used to talking with others when he wasn't feeling well.

“It's just… it sucks, you know?” You said, sitting on top of a big rock.

“I know, it does.” Both of you chuckled. “If you need to talk with someone, it would be just between us.”

“I don't want to bother you, it's stupid.”

“If the future Tsahik is upset, it should be pretty serious.” He said with a teasing smirk. That made you smile a little bit.

After a little silence, you started. “First of all, I love my siblings with all my heart. I don't have anything against them and I don't know what I would do if something happens to them. I also love my parents, but sometimes mom and dad put so much pressure on us, especially me. I mean, sometimes I get it, I'm the future spiritual leader, but I'm their daughter too, you know?”

“Yeah, it's like they forget you are still a child who wants to go home too and suddenly you are the third parent.” You looked at him with worried eyes, knowing why he was saying that and feeling someone was finally understanding you. Neteyam was now sitting next to you.

“Ao'nung acts like the king already when he has a whole pad to follow until he becomes Olo’eyktan. He's mean to your siblings at the point he almost killed Lo'ak today.” You said, upset. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“You don't have to be sorry, it's not your fault. That's the problem, it's not my fault either. Why do we have to take responsibility just because it involves our younger brothers? Lo'ak is old enough to know what is right and wrong, but I have to take responsibility for his skxawng ass.”

“They might really think we are the third parent. Apparently we are always with them and we can control everything they do.”

“Like if we were some kind of psychics.”

“What's a psychics?” You asked a little bit confused. Neteyam saw your cute face, trying to figure it out if that was a good thing.

“Sorry.” He laughed. “They are people who can see the future.”

“Oh.” You whispered. “Yeah, like if we were some kind of psychics!” You said, this time a little bit more upset. “Wait, isn’t Tsahik some kind of psychics?” You looked at each other and then burst into laughter.

Minutes passed and you started to talk about other things. It was magical how you two had so much in common and understood each other. Neteyam was so happy he could finally get close to you, well, closer than all the days and nights all of you (metkayina and omaticaya siblings) swam and trained together.

Under the moon, surrounded by beautiful plants, you lay on the ground and start joking. Like that, Neteyam looked more relaxed than you've ever seen him. Most of the time he was the “Mighty Warrior”, but you liked to see him like that, like his true self.

“You know you look handsome when you smile?” You said all of a sudden.

“What?” Neteyam thought he imagined your sweet voice saying that, just like in his dreams.

“Sorry.” You said a little embarrassed, sitting down.

“No, no. It's okay.” He smiled. “It's just… Nobody has ever told me something like that.” You two blushed. “You are beautiful, you know that?” You looked at him surprised. “Oh, c'mon, don't tell me it's the first time someone tells you this.”

“Boys always want to be close to me so they can court me in the future. They want an opportunity with the future Tsahik, not with the real me.”

“Well, they are stupid.”

Neteyam was sitting down already, so he took his time admiring your face closely.

“Don't do that, you are making me nervous.”

“Oh, you are always making me nervous, pretty lady.” You smiled. “Every time you are close my heart can't take it, it feels like I'm gonna faint.”

You began to get closer too, watching his lips with attention. You felt very nervous, but that didn't stop you from closing all distance and kissing him shyly and sweetly. Neteyam was surprised, but he couldn't deny he was waiting for this moment since the day you helped him with his breathing teaching, realising he liked you too much.

His hands rested on the sides of your jaw, deepening the kiss, while you played a little bit with his hair. That triggered something in Neteyam, making the kiss no longer sweet, but a little hungrier. You let out a surprised little noise. He guided you, leaving you lying on the floor again, with him on top of you.

“Can I…? You know we don't need to do this if you don't want to.”

“Please…” You whispered before he kissed you again.

The next day you flatly refused to talk to or even see Neteyam, because you were confused and angry with yourself. You weren't going to lie, you enjoyed every second of the night you spent with Neteyam. You felt comfortable, loved, and safe, but the problem was that you two weren't a couple and you weren't even courting. Your mother had always told you that the first time had to be special because Eywa was the one who unites all mates and your father had assured you that you should not give yourself body and soul to someone unless you truly loved each other because, otherwise, you could get hurt.

“I'm stupid, I'm so so so stupid.” You scolded yourself alone after Neteyam greeted you from across the beach while he was fishing with his father, and you walked away completely ignoring him.

Neteyam was so happy when you two woke up that morning and greeted each other with a smile. But when you got away every time he tried to talk to you, he realised maybe something bad happened.

“I hope you don't think we didn't notice you were not in the marui last night.” His father scolded again, when they were preparing their knives.

He told him he had fallen asleep by accident while searching for beads for his mother, like the first time he arrived in the morning when the only one awake was his dad.

All day and night he felt bad about what happened with you. He thought about it a lot and came to the conclusion that maybe, even if it was the best thing that happened to him in his short life, it was a mistake not to have done things right with you. He should have asked your parents for permission, he should have courted you and given you gifts until you said yes. And now he messed up.

Three weeks passed in which you filled yourself with tasks to avoid going out with your siblings and the Sullys. You felt bad. You missed singing with Tsireya, hunting with Ao'nung, walking to the shore with Rotxo, joking with Lo'ak, swimming with Kiri and feeding ilus with little Tuk, but what you missed the most was Neteyam’s warm company. Still, you refused to approach them fearing that Neteyam would try to talk about what happened that night and that the others would notice that something was wrong.

“Aren't you gonna eat your breakfast, little fish?” Your father asked.

“I'm okay, I need to go to the shore. The best shells are usually hidden deep in the sand, so I prefer to look now so as not to miss the daylight."

“But, we don't need too many shells.” Tsireya said, helping her mother with the sleep mats.

“We might not need too many, but we need the best for our clothes for the mating ceremony of Ae'k and Payu next week.”

You lied, so you didn't have to accept the fact that the food smelled bad for you. You didn't want to offend your parents, who spend so much time cooking together, especially when you were the only one who seemed to have that issue. When you were out of the marui, your little sister caught up to you before you got any further.

“Wait, sister. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, why?”

“I don't know. You seem distant since a couple of weeks ago, even Ao'nung noticed. You don't have time to hang up or train with us, but I was hoping you weren't mad at us. The Sullys asked us what we did to you.

“Oh, Reya, I'm so sorry. I'm not mad or something like that, I just have a lot of responsibilities lately, but as soon as I have time I'll go with you guys, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled, still a little worried.

Neteyam saw you on the beach, searching for something in the sand. He considered approaching you, but decided he didn't want to bother you.

“What's happening between the two of you?” Kiri asked after a few minutes where Neteyam would peek at your direction every so often.

“What? What are you talking about?” Neteyam asked, clearly avoiding the topic.

“Come on. At first I thought Ao'nung and Tsireya did something to make her mad, like Lo'ak and Tuk, but I can see the way you want to talk to her and she's… basically ignoring you.”

Kiri's words hurt him a little, but he knew she was right. He hesitated. He didn't want to talk about what happened, he felt somehow he was disrespecting your privacy, but he couldn't take it anymore.

“Sorry, Kiri. I have to talk with her.”

He decided he had to talk to you since her sister noticed something was wrong. Now it was just her, but it was a matter of time until the other ones noticed.

Neteyam walked to your figure kneeling on the sand. You were so invested with your shell searching that you didn't notice him approaching.

“Y/n, can we talk?” He asked not wanting his voice to tremble.

“I am kind of busy right now. Sorry, Neteyam.” The tone of voice you used wasn't rude, but a little bit cold.

“Please, we need to talk about what happened that night.”

“Nothing happened that night.” You answered, stopping your movements, but not looking up at him.

“Really? Nothing happened?” He asked, now hurt.

You sighted tired and frustrated. You weren't feeling good, but that wasn't an excuse to hurt him. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just… it's complicated and now I don't feel like talking.” You answered, standing up. When you were on your feet, you trembled a little, noticing the way your vision got blurry.

“Wow, are you okay?” Neteyam asked, worried, holding you by the elbows to keep you from falling. When you looked at his beautiful golden eyes you almost gave up. Somehow you felt the need to take refuge in his arms.

“I'm fine. Thank you.” Like that you walked to the marui where the clan kept the materials needed to make clothes. Fortunately, it was empty.

“Please. It's okay if you feel uncomfortable, it's completely understandable. But we can't avoid the topic forever.” He said, unaware of how your world started spinning. You kneeled on a mat, distracting yourself by organising the shells in the right place. “We need to talk. Whenever you are ready, but, please. Kiri already noticed something.”

“Neteyam…” your view turned black for a moment and you didn't know how you ended up lying on the mat with Neteyam kneeling next to you, holding your head.

“Hey, hey. Y/n, please wake up. Open your eyes for me.”

“What happened?”

“I don't know. You fainted for a few seconds. Did you eat this morning?”

“Not really.” The light was hurting your eyes, so it was difficult to open your eyes completely.

“Damn it. Why? You can't be doing things like that. You need to eat, otherwise you are gonna feel sick.”

Then everything made sense. No, you weren't feeling like that because you didn't eat. It was the third time in the week you felt like that. You puked once, when taking care of the youngest ones of the clan, after you played with them. Gladly no one saw you because you ran to the woods on time.

Your disgust for the food was definitely new. You never felt rejection of your mother's food. Not even when you were sick as a child. At those times you eat different things, but never you decide not to eat.

Your mother… Your mother was feeling like that now that she was expecting…

“Oh, my Eywa.” You whispered, sitting down and covering your mouth. “No. No. No. No.”

“What? What is it?” Neteyam asked, now worried to death about your sudden change of mood.

“Neteyam… I think I am pregnant.”

Neteyam and you talked in that marui for hours, sitting down a little far from each other. You knew you wouldn't have privacy in any other place, besides the woods, but you didn't want to go there, for obvious reasons. The metkayina didn't enter the marui because it wasn't the day of the week to make clothes. So you two had plenty of time to discuss your little... situation.

“Are you completely sure?” Neteyam whispered, looking at the mat.

“Well, we just can be completely sure by asking my mother, and we are not gonna do that.” You bit your lip, anxious. “But I had the symptoms and I had never felt like that, not until… until you.” You said, hugging your knees embarrassed.

Neteyam looked at you at the mention. He knew it wasn't the right moment, but he liked how you had said that. And you looked so beautiful like that.

“Well… then, we are gonna take responsibility for our actions.” He said, decisively. “Do you want to?” He asked, changing his tone, now nervous for your answer.

“I don't know… I mean, what other option do we have? But I don't want to have them just because that's how it should be. I feel bad.” You said, rubbing your now flat belly. “And I don't know if I am prepared.”

“I know. I don't feel prepared either.”

“Wait, you wanna… you wanna be with me in this?”

“Of course I want to.” He stood up and sat next to you. He took your chin so you could make eye contact. “I would love to if you want it and if you let me.”

All you could do was hug him tight. He embraced you and his scent was everything you needed to feel safe and calm again.

“Now… What's our plan?” He asked.

[fruittt-punchhh]

sativa

Synopsis: little one shot based off of this ask, so idc to make this fancy: you and Toji smoke a lot of weed and fuck. enjoy💋

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x you.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, stoner! Toji, stoner! reader, having sex while high, big dick! Toji, rough sex, suggestiveness, cursing, breeding, dick suckin/pussy eatin, just filthy, unashamed Toji smut. I love that man.

Word Count: 5.6k-ish

Notes: ily and anon was the smartest for this idea. sorry if this is lame but being the stoner I am I couldn’t resist. I’m also bad at endings but it’s fine you’re the best byeeeee😈🥹🫶

You have all of thirty minutes to get ready for the party. Your mascara is dried out, hair totally untouched, and you still couldn’t decide on what outfit to wear.

You weren’t too concerned, but you want to look presentable. It was some random block party, but it was 4/20, so the theme was ‘Mary Jane’ of course. And if you were going to do anything, it’d be dressing appropriately for the occasion. You also know that every time you get high you love taking pictures of yourself and your friends, and you always felt a little better with your face beat and your hair laid.

Speaking of laid, it’s been a minute. Not for any particular reason other than no one has caught your eye recently. But maybe tonight could be your lucky night.

You settle on a green mesh top, a short skirt to go along with it, and some black platform boots to finish it off. You accessorize with your favorite green and gold jewelry, making sure to grab your ring with the big leaf emblem on it. You took a look at your ‘420’ sunglasses, noting how similar they look to New Year’s Eve glasses. Cringing yourself out from the amount of ‘hey I smoke weed!’ energy you’re giving off, you decide to leave the glasses home.

This was the first time in a while you’ve been to a party where you didn’t know anyone there. The front door opens as a couple walks out, and smoke literally billows from the living room. You scoot past them, as well as a large burly man who you assume is security, to get to the kitchen.

You had brought your own weed of course, but you were intent on sharing with others. There were plenty of supplies in the kitchen so you start to roll a few blunts before bringing them to the living room.

Sure, you’ve seen some of these faces around. But you were awful with names and may have snuck in a little gummy edible before the Uber arrived, so socializing has lost it’s sparkle.

You immediately light up, wanting to join the rest of the guests in their euphoria. There was loud music playing, plenty of laughter and talking, and you felt content in your own world.

You pass the blunt to the girl nearest you, and spark up again, wanting to start a rotation.

You’re lost in your phone as you wait for the blunt to come back your way. You look to the man to your left, and notice he’s hogging it. You’re much too chicken to say something, so you decide to let it pass. He was probably just too high and forgot he was holding it.

You continue scrolling, anticipating a lazy bump of your shoulder so you can steal back your blunt. Until a large, looming figure waltzes its way in between you and the blunt stealer.

“Think you’ve had enough, huh? Why don’t you give it back to the lady?” He says as he has a seat next to you, taking the blunt out of the man’s hands. He had it for so long, it wasn’t even burning anymore. You appreciate the gesture and put the blunt between your lips, cursing a muffled ‘dammit’ after you realize your lighter is lost in the abyss. Either that or someone stole it.

Until the man beside you pulls a standard, black bic out of his tight jean pocket. His large hands engulf the lighter as he flicks the spark wheel, bringing the flame closer to your face so you can relight.

You pull a deep puff in, uttering a thank you before you pass it back to him. It’s only right he has some since he saved such a damsel in distress.

You had unknowingly been avoiding eye contact with him; it was a habit of yours when you smoked. After passing the blunt to him, you have a realization.

“I thought you were security,” you blurt out, immediately laughing at the word vomit you were trying to keep to yourself.

“Security?”

God, does he look good.

“Yeah, uh, w-when I came in you were posted up at the door like someone paid you to keep watch. L-Like a big guard dog,” you say, fumbling over your own words like you were paid to.

“You’re funny,” he admits, not knowing what else to say. He passes you back the blunt for the second time, to which you take happily.

God, do you look good.

“Uh, my names Toji by the way.”

“Oh, nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You watch his eyes trail your body. You can’t help when you do the same. He was intoxicating to look at. He was so tall, had such a large frame, and looked like he could kill you so quickly. Which as much as you hate admitting, was something you liked in men. He had dark hair and a little scar on his lip.

“Watchya’ staring for, hun?”

You turn to pass the blunt to the girl next to you again, hoping he didn’t notice the redness in your cheeks.

“You were starin’ first,” you say, and he can’t help but agree.

“It’s hard not to.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes a moment before responding, giving you another chance to examine him. Your eyes meet his, and you are the first to break eye contact, not being able to stand your ground under his stare.

“You look really fuckin’ good,” he says with the upmost confidence, before he leaves to go to the kitchen. Giving you no time to respond.

He’s back shortly after with two fresh blunts. Instead of taking his seat again, he leans over the back of the couch, pressing his cheek to your hair before he tells you to ‘come smoke with me upstairs’. His voice so close to your ear, so low and so quiet, scared you. But you were truthfully desperate for dick, and he looked like he knew how to give it. Even if it didn’t go that far, the living room was getting far too loud anyways.

You follow suit, standing up from the couch with an ‘okay’ before he beckons you upstairs. The crowd is thicker now, and you have no clue where the upstairs are. You look back at him, signaling you are totally lost in this dank, dark house. He puts a hand on your waist to help guide you and you swear his fingers dug into your hip intentionally. He lets out a rough ‘move’ to some couple in front of you two blocking the stairs.

He finds an empty bedroom upstairs.

“Owner doesn’t care if we smoke in here, it’s some guest bedroom.”

What a hell of a guest bedroom, you think. The room is fully furnished including a couch, a tv, gaming equipment, and there’s an attached bathroom. This shit was better than your own room back home.

Toji leads you to the couch where he pats the spot beside him, motioning for you to join him. He already has one blunt affixed between his soft lips, giving you the other once you sit down.

He instinctively puts his arm around you, but leaves it there once he notices you don’t mind whatsoever.

“Sorry, just got too loud down there,” he admits before lighting his blunt.

You reach for the lighter, but he grabs your hand out of the air. He turns your face to his, cupping your jaw with his other hand. He brings his face closer to yours, sticking the end of his blunt to the tip of yours, waiting for you to pull to light your own.

God, did he look really fucking good.

You mutter another ‘thanks’ taking a deep inhale as you had so many times that night. You can’t help but focus your eyes anywhere other than his face, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

“You’re starin’ again, doll.”

“Can’t help it,” you admit sheepishly, “you look.. really good.”

“Is that so?” He says with a smirk, trying his hardest not to love watching you squirm.

You nod, to which he responds, “use your words, y/n,” and you think you could faint.

Surely you weren’t wrong in assuming he wanted you too, right? At this point you were high enough that the potential backfire of your next question was no where near present in your mind.

“Can you fuck me?”

He coughs, accidentally blowing a puff of smoke straight in your face. You must have taken him by surprise.

His answer to your question comes non-verbally, as he grabs your plush thighs to situate you on top of him. You can already feel how much he wants this through his pants. You gasp, taken aback by his forwardness.

“Oh I can, doll, I really can. You think you can handle all that, though?” He asks, putting the blunt back in his mouth so he can grab your hips and pull you onto his length. The sudden stimulation to your clit leaves you reeling as you try not to throw your head back in ecstasy.

“I won’t know unless I see it,” faking how confident you were appearing. Your only motivator in putting on this mask is to get the release you need so desperately. You throw in a ‘please’ to stress how urgent this was.

“Gotta’ learn how to be patient, brat” he says with a light laugh, reaching out his hand to take your blunt for the moment. He finds a nearby ashtray to sit them on for the time being.

He wastes no time pulling you into a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue in his attempt to devour you. You lean into the kiss, meeting your chest with his as you slowly roll your hips down onto his length. He grunts into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth harshly.

He pulls away only to yank your shirt over you, his hands flying to cup your tits the second they’re free. He unlatches the clasp at the back of your bra while he trails sloppy kisses along your clavicle.

You can’t help but moan with every touch, each kiss, every roll of your hips. It had been so long since you’ve been touched like this and his ways with you were electrifying. Each touch left you wanting more and the lazy, rough rolling of your hips left his cock angry and weeping at the tip.

His lips latch to your nipple and suck, biting ever so slightly. You arch into him and he follows your movements, leaning back into the couch so you can really be on top of him, properly. He reached behind his head and grabs one of the blunts, praising god that it was still lit.

You were surprised that he wanted to continue smoking, and your movements stilled slightly.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He asks, taking a brief inhale of the smoke and purposefully blowing it in your face. Shocked at his bravado, you continue the movements of your hips, already feeling close from the rough stimulation. But you can’t quite get there.

You place your hands underneath his shirt, running your cold hands up his taught stomach to his chest. Your right hand trails up to his nipple, and you can’t help but grab a handful of his tit, laughing as you do so. You expect him to get mad and maybe even call the whole thing off.

Instead, he laughs along with you to cover up a moan, passes you the blunt, and pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his already disheveled hair.

“You gonna’ strip for me, pretty boy?” You ask, genuinely needing to feel him closer.

He laughs again, and you can tell the weed is hitting him hard. But you were right there with him, you think, puffing on the blunt for the nth time that night.

“Only if you do, brat,” he says before he’s already reaching to take off his belt. He pushes you back some, needing room to get those tight fucking pants off. Your eyes are glued to his pelvis, waiting to watch his cock spring free.

He leaves you hanging, only pulling his pants down slightly before he’s telling you to ‘get up’. You follow suit, trying your best to take your skirt off slowly in front of him. He pulls his pants fully off and is left splayed on the couch in nothing but his tight, black briefs, neck and chest all red and splotchy. Laid out like your own personal slut.

It takes everything in him not to make you ride his face then and there, but he wanted to watch you cum all on your own.

“The fuck are you waitin’ for?” He asks, noticing how lost in thought you were. He brings you back to reality with his sharp words and motions for you to take your seat back on his lap.

He mutters a ‘gimme’ that’ before he steals the blunt from you again.

He takes a puff, “make a mess on me, yeah?” and you can’t help but comply. You fully seat yourself back in his lap, nothing between you two but the thin fabric of your thong and his briefs. Having his thick jeans out of the way let you fully feel how hard, how big he was underneath you. You could feel a wet patch at the tip and you were so eager to get your mouth on him.

You pick up the pace as he ruts his hips up into yours, hard cock pressing over and over again into your clit. You were already so close before, and the lack of fabric was dizzying.

“T-Think I’m gonna’ cum, T-Toji,” you pant, handing him back the blunt so you can brace yourself on his muscular stomach. He’s moaning fully now, waiting to watch you come undone. He sticks the blunt between his teeth quickly before he grabs your thick, plush hips and pulls you into him at a merciless pace.

“Do it then, bitch,” and with that, you were finished. You feel your legs tremble and attempt to close as you release all you have on the man before you. Your movements attempt to still, but he keeps up his brutal pace, not allowing you a moment without stimulation.

“T-Toji, s’too much, p-please,” you beg, pulling away from him so you could have a break from the overstimulation.

He mocks you, “awww, poor baby can’t handle it, huh? Why don’t we give you a break then?” He asks and you hope this means what you think he’s implying. He pushes you off of him fully and seats himself with his back to the couch again. He looks down at his briefs, noting the wet spot you left.

“Coulda’ done better, I think,” he says before he leans back and puts one hand behind his head, obviously waiting for you. He still holds the blunt tightly in between his lips, and he looks so fucking perfect like that. Waiting for you to do your worst.

You get off the couch, dropping to your knees in between his long legs. You reach your manicured hands up to his shaft, palming him through his briefs. He stiffens as do you, as you try not to freak out at how big he felt already.

“Take ‘em off, brat,” he lets out, almost sounding… desperate?

“You sound like such a slut, ya’ know?” You say, unaware of the consequences this would have for you soon enough.

“Fuck you,” he spits before taking it upon himself to fully undress.

Your eyes widen, “Jesus Christ,” and he can’t help but laugh.

“I get that a lot,” he says, which you note sounds awfully close to something a slut would say. But you hold your tongue, for now.

He was so perfect. His dick was long, thick, and veiny. His balls were heavy and relaxed, and his cherry red tip was spilling precum. You were desperate for a taste.

You grab him at the base, diving in headfirst as you take his tip fully in your mouth and suck, hard. He grunts above you as he puffs on the blunt again.

You had no want to draw out this process longer than it already had been, so you start working your hand up and down his shaft, inching your head lower and lower.

The quickness of your movements left Toji in a state of shock as he tried his best to stifle his noises. He didn’t expect you to start fully giving him one of the best blowjobs he’s ever received, figuring you’d be too timid to reach halfway down the shaft by the time it was all over.

But here you were, nose buried in the black hair decorating his pelvis, swallowing around him like you were paid to.

Needing air, you pull off with a loud pop before asking him a question.

“What’s the matter? I can see you trying to keep quiet, ya’ know.”

He laughs, again.

“Sluts whine when they get their dick sucked by a pretty girl. But I’m not a sl- fuck,” he whines, not expecting you to continue so soon after you asked.

You were taking him almost fully now, in and out of your throat, relishing in the salty, bitter taste of his precum. He was leaking profusely, so unbelievably turned on by the sight of you taking him like a pro.

Managing to get some noise out of him only motivated you further as you now work both hands up and down his shaft, taking what you couldn’t cover with your hands in and out of your wet heat.

“Don’t chicken out now, doll. You wanna make me act like a slut, you’ve gotta.. fuck- earn it.” He says as he grabs a fistful of your hair, standing to his feet and it takes all you have to keep your balance.

Immediately, he’s thrusting in and out of your throat mercilessly. The sounds filling the room were so indecent and filthy. He still has the blunt glued to his lips, not even taking a hand up to remove it as he fucks your throat.

He’s using you like a toy, controlling your every movement as you take him deeper.

“Who’s the slut now?” He asks, muffled only slightly by the blunt. He must have done this before, you think.

He pulls you off of him harshly, bending down to see you nearly eye to eye.

“Didn’t I ask you a fuckin’ question?”

You nod, not realizing the mistake you just made. He grabs your face roughly, slapping your cheek with his other hand lightly, although with his strength it felt nothing of the sort. But you weren’t mad about it.

“And what the fuck -,” he starts, grabbing himself at his base, forcing his way back into your wet mouth, “- did I say about using your words?”

His eyes are glued to you, watching your eyes water as he tries not to come apart entirely after hearing you choke around him.

“Imma’ ask again. Who’s the slut?”

You attempt your best to answer with a muffled, unintelligible ‘me’.

“That’s- shit -what I fuckin’ thought,” he says, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer if he kept using you like this.

You grab his thighs, bracing yourself before you start to actively move with Toji, meeting his pelvis with your nose with each thrust. You try your best to hollow out your cheeks, wanting to hear some more of those little noises he wouldn’t dare let slip.

“God..dammit, woman,” he huffs, pulling you off of him regrettably, “gonna make me cum.”

He grabs you tightly by the arm, bringing you to your feet as he pulls the blunt from his mouth, kissing you once more before he takes care of you. Your mouth was so sloppy and wet from the abuse and he truly couldn’t give less of a fuck. All you could taste from his mouth was smoke.

His blunt was nearly finished now, so he snuffs it out in the ashtray before he commands you to lay back down on the couch. He grabs the other, fresher blunt, and relights it, handing it over to you.

“We gonna’ smoke the whole time we’re doing this?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Don’t see why not. Can’t let good weed go to waste,” he says before he’s towering over you, planting wet kisses on your stomach and waistband. You still don’t know if you were even ready to cum again, but it seems like you have no choice.

He lands a particularly sloppy kiss on your mound, tasting you through your panties as your hips impulsively buck into his mouth.

“Be patient, doll,” he reprimands.

He crooks one finger underneath your panties, opting to push them to the side instead of pulling them off fully, which he felt was quite fitting for a slut such as yourself.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy, ya’ know that?” he says, leaving you no time to respond before his lips connect with you, wet tongue exploring every inch he can reach.

You whine, bucking your hips up into him again. He takes one hand to hold both of your hips down, ensuring you can’t squirm anymore.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, doll,” he mutters quickly, not wanting to waste any more time not latched to your sweet pussy.

He begins to suck on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. You feel a protrusion at your hole as he slowly enters two fingers into you. The stretch burns, but the feeling was quickly replaced with pleasure when he immediately curls his fingers up into your spot. You wouldn’t last long at this rate.

“Y-You’re realllyyy.. good, fuck,” you manage, to which he responds with a long, drawn out ‘mhmm,’ knowing the vibrations would drive you mad. He’s now bobbing his head, fully lost in your sex as he brings you closer to your second orgasm. He’s fully thrusting into you, preparing you for the stretch his dick will bring. The blunt was nearly forgotten at this point, hanging over the back of the couch along with both your hands. You were lost in the ecstasy of the moment until he takes his hand and pushes down on your lower stomach, increasing the sensation of his fingers deep within you.

He pulls off of you for just a moment to say, “gonna feel me all in here, aren’t ya’?” He inserts a third finger and curls that one all the same as the rest, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue as you chant whines of ‘Toji, Toji, Toji’. With one final thrust, you’re releasing onto his fingers, attempting to clamp your legs shut to no avail.

“Uh-uh, pretty girl. Hah, gotta’ clean you up first,” he says as he pulls out all three fingers, replacing them with his tongue. You catch him reaching down to his length, fisting his angry, red tip in his hand as he finishes the job. He did as he promised, lapping up every last drop of your cum like the filthy dog he was, all the while groaning into your pussy. He finishes cleaning you dutifully, opting to leave your panties on, telling you how good they looked on you.

You take another drag and ask, “you want this back?” reaching out to him to hand over the blunt. He grabs it quickly after he wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand, and through the smoke and haze, you think you see him lick his palm clean, just like he did you. What a slut.

“Turn over f’me, baby,” he asks, not giving you time to respond before he’s manhandling you on the couch, flipping you over as he pulls your ass impossibly high into the air. He pushes your panties to the side, rubbing his cock over your puffy pussy as you try not to pull away from how sensitive you still were.

“Let’s see juuuust how deep I can go, yeah?” He says before he’s pushing his fat head into you without warning. You let out a loud ‘fuuuck’ as he enters you slowly from behind. His lips are sealed, still trying desperately to keep his pitiful noises to himself. He takes a drag of the blunt before he puts it in between his pointer and middle finger. He needs his hands free so he can spread you open, loving how your tight hole swallows him entirely.

“Look-,” he slowly thrusts into you, covering half of his cock in your slick.

He pulls entirely out, “-at-,”

Then back in again, “-that,” he finishes, before continuing his painfully slow pace. Although he’d never admit it, he had to keep himself from cumming too early. Having you at his will, totally spread for him, taking his dick so well was becoming too much for him.

He picks up speed, still not entering you fully. The blunt is replaced between his lips yet again as he grabs your waist, slamming you down onto his cock over and over again.

“T-Toji, more, p-please,” you manage, needing to feel him entirely.

He continues his pace, much to your dismay. “You’re gonna’ take what I give ya’ and you’re gonna shut the fuck up about it,” he says, enunciating his words with each thrust.

Taking matters into your own hands, you start meeting his thrusts, desperately trying to make him move faster. Fortunately for you, he likes watching you put on a show.

You whine as he stops thrusting, looking back to see him staying still on purpose, taking a long drag from the blunt and ashing it on the floor beside him while he waits for you to continue.

“You wanna’ get fucked harder, mama? Prove it, hah,” he chuckles, slapping your ass while he waits for you to move. You comply, slamming your hips towards his, hard, knocking the wind out of both of you as he finally seats himself balls deep into your cunt. You continue your movements, pulling your hips up and almost entirely off of him, just to slam back all the way down.

“S’ fucking messy, baby, goddamn,” he pants, not knowing how much longer he can keep up the tough guy act while you’re brutally sucking him in and out of your snug cunt.

The pace you’re at now is bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night, but that won’t do. Toji pulls out of you fully, throwing you back down onto the couch so you can face him.

“Wanna’ see that pretty face when you cum, slut,” he adds, handing you the blunt again, “see if you can keep this in your mouth and I might let you cum again.”

You obey, sticking the blunt between your teeth as you wait to be fucked, properly this time. He rips off your ruined panties, discarding them onto the floor beneath you. He grabs both of your legs with one hand behind your knee, pushing them up close to your chest so he can marvel at how incredible you look, so wet and willing for him.

He lines himself up again, wasting no time to increase the pace he had set earlier. Your instinct was to take the blunt out of your mouth so you could moan freely, but the second he sees your hand move, they’re both pinned above your head.

“What’d I tell you, huh? Wanna cum or not?” He says as he gives you all of his inches, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he absolutely abuses your poor cunt.

You let out a muffled ‘mhmm!’, eyes wide and pleading for him to let you finish.

“Such a greedy..mmph - fuckin’ cunt, yeah? Bet you feel me in your tummy now d-don’t you, mama?”

And truth be told, you did. Every thrust he was pounding your cervix, desperate to break through to fit that last inch in fully. Toji was becoming more vocal, letting out huffs and groans each time he entered your warm, sloppy hole.

“I feel it now, baby, hah. Lil’ pussy’s boutta’ snap my dick in half,” and goddamn was he good. You were due to cum any second now, focusing solely on how sinfully he kept hitting your spot, over and over again.

“Cum for me, doll. Right fuckin’ now, cum on this dick,” and before he can finish, you’re spasming underneath him as you somehow manage to keep the blunt tightly between your teeth. Smoke is billowing from your nose and mouth now, and every breath you take brightens the cherry red end of your blunt.

“Thaaaat’s it, such a nasty slut f’me,” and you nod, knowing he’s read you all too well.

You hand him back the blunt and he finally puts it out in the ash tray, wanting to focus his sole attention on you.

“T-Toji?”

He grunts out a ‘hm?’ as he drags your hips impossibly close to him, tossing each of your legs over his shoulders.

“C-Can you give it to me, hard? P-Please, baby. Wanna feel all of you,” you admit before grabbing him by the neck, pulling him into another heated kiss.

“Ya’ sure? Dunno’ if you can handle all that, pretty girl,” and your answer comes in the form of action. You reach down in between your legs, rubbing yourself lightly before you bring it to his cock, rubbing his shaft with your juices. You line him up and try your best to pull him into you.

He smirks, leaning down to put his forearms on either side of your head, stretching your legs impossibly far.

“Please,” you mutter, scared he might fully break you, but the need to feel him as deep as you can take supersedes that.

“I might fuckin’ break you,” is the last thing he says before he’s thrusting fully into you, pushing against your cervix, and he starts at a pace that has you seeing stars. No more games, no more going easy on you. He was fully intent on fucking you within an inch of your life. He just had to make sure you could really take him before he started fucking you like the animal he was.

This is what really sends him. Losing all control, fucking you as he was made to: primally.

He starts grunting, then moaning, and then full on whining. With nearly every thrust, he was spewing obscenities or whining your name.

“Take - fuuuck, baby - take all those fuckin’… inches,” as if you weren’t already. He expects no response from you as you were practically drooling underneath him. You could form no coherent thoughts, no words, just noises. Sinful, filthy noises that made Toji feel drunk.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ deep f’me,” he spits, sweat daring to drip from his forehead, “such a good fuckin’ slut.”

You were so close although you weren’t sure if you could cum anymore that night. You kept teetering on the edge, begging to fall, but you couldn’t quite get there.

Until you’re finally able to come to your senses long enough to speak.

“I-I’m the.. slut?” You ask with a strained laugh, waiting to see just what he does with you now.

He laughs too, after he’s grabbed you by the throat, not forgetting to move his other hand down towards your clit.

“Can you f-fuckin’ blame me, doll?” He asks, somehow quickening the brutal snap of his hips.

You feel your core tighten, “You make me s-so pussy drunk, mama,” he confesses, too far deep to care if you thought he was a slut or not. He knew deep down he was nothing but a man whore. But he tried to keep that fact about himself under wraps. Everything about you, though, was bringing it all to the surface.

“Cum f’me, one more time, baby. ‘Know you can,” is all he can manage to say before he’s a grunting, sweaty mess above you. His fingers toy with your clit and his cock is hitting you too deep, filling your walls to the brim.

“Not gonna last, p-please fuckin cum, doll,” he begs, needing to watch you come apart up close and personal.

You feel the coil in your stomach snap and you reach around his back, digging your nails in the soft skin you find for leverage. You go mute, unable to process anything other than your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your back is fully arched off of the couch, making your entrance even tighter, and Toji can’t take it. You grab him harshly, pulling him even closer to your face.

“Inside me, Toji,” you whisper and he fully loses it. His hips still before he spills his seed deep inside you, pitiful chants of your name the only thing he dare let leave his lips. He grabs the base of his cock, slowly stroking up to where he’s still buried in you before he pulls out, cursing at the overstimulation.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, standing to his feet to find a towel. He comes back from the bathroom, tossing you the towel so you can clean up.

As he lights up the rest of his measly blunt, he has but one more question to ask: “you hungry?”

hehehehehe

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