#that makes me go *head snap* *full attention*

[planetpedri]

jealous pedri 🫦 pretty please 🙏

hope you're having a great day!

Jealous — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wasn’t immune to male attention, and Pedri couldn’t stand it.

Word count: 675+

Disclaimer/s: Jealous!Pedri ehhh idk what else to add clubbing + alcohol mention

A/N: i’ve been WAITING for this request. this is based off ‘jealous’ by nick jonas if it wasn’t already obvious!

The club was booming. Strobe lights flashing and sweat slick partiers passed by with every passing second. This was your element. You loved going out with your boyfriend and you loved any reason to dress up.

Your sparkly black dress flashed different colors with every changing color. A confident smile on your face as you walked in front of Pedri to find the bar.

Pedri trailed behind you with a grin on his face as you easily weaved through the crowd. The grin was short lived when he saw a man in the distance latch onto you, his eyes trailing over your body with a smirk on his lips.

Instantly, Pedri was beside you, covering you from the mans line of sight. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his side with a protective hold. Your head snapped in his direction curiously, noticing the tightness on his face.

“You alright?” You lean up to his face so he could hear you over the music.

“Did you have to swear that dress tonight?” Pedri questions, his eyes dropping to the small dress. He loved the way it looked on you, but hated knowing other men loved it too.

You laugh, “uh, yeah?���

He was not finding this amusing.

Slipping out of his grasp once you reach the bar, you order yourself a drink. Not one for Pedri, he rarely ever drank, plus he drove you two here. “Go find us a booth while I wait?”

Reluctantly, the man does just that; finding a booth in the corner of the club with full view of everything. Everything included you.

The man from earlier had approached you. Pedri saw the way you stiffened, annoyance flashing across your face every time he presumably flirted. One thing about you that Pedri could rely on always, was your complete and utter devotion. You loved him and he’d never doubted it from the second you uttered those three words.

But, when he saw you crack a small smile at something the stranger said, he swallowed, hard.

Leaning over the table, he asks the group beside if they could watch your table. Recognizing him instantly, they eagerly agreed. One perk of being famous, he supposed.

Making his way down the stairs and to the bar, he slipped behind you. “Cariño.” He grumbled, eyes drifting up to meet the man in front of you.

“Hey, man..” He started, stopping when Pedri’s face stays flat. “Chill. I’m gone!”

The second he stepped away, you were turning on your heels and scowling up at your boyfriend. “Hello? Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, who was that?”

“Stranger danger? I don’t know.” You huff, “and so—oh. Oh my God, you’re jealous.” Your mouth forms a proud smirk, you couldn’t even be mad. It was amusing.

“Can you blame me?” Pedri’s voice is exasperated, his hands flying up in defense.

Your shoulders shrug, “you’re far too obsessed with me for your own good. I would never cheat.” Which was true, you were dating Pedro González, you had no need to cheat. He was everything and more, nobody could compare. “It’s not my fault they hover!”

Your point was well taken, but Pedri tilts his head to the side. “So it’s my fault I have an insanely beautiful girlfriend?”

Tapping your chin playfully, you nod. “Hey. You chose me.”

“And I would make that choice a million times over again.” He hums, leaning down to connect his lips with yours.

Pedri wasn’t massive on public displays of affection, so when he did give it; it was for a purpose. His purpose tonight was to show everyone in that club that you were his. And, you loved every second of it.

Leaning your head back, Pedri lets out a low whine at the loss of contact. “Can we go back to our booth and order some food?” You laugh, “i’m hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Pedri sighs, “come on.” His hand tangled into yours, keeping a tight hold on it while he leads you up to your booth.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @joaoflms @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[daisymbin]

14. "oh, so now we’re holding hands?" With Wonwoo pls and female:)))

thank you for requesting! please let me know what you think about it 🥰

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

fluff prompt #14: "oh, so now we're holding hands?"

wonwoo didn’t know what he did wrong.

one moment, everything was fine. the next, you were cold, sharp replies replacing your usual warmth, and any attempt he made to talk to you was met with an annoyed glare. you weren’t outright ignoring him, but you might as well at this point.

so he did what any reasonable person would do: he followed you around and tried to make you laugh, even if it meant annoying you further. but no matter how much he teased or tried to catch your attention, you stayed firmly in your icy bubble, refusing to give him an inch.

after dinner with the rest of the boys, he thought you’d leave the moment the dishes were cleared. instead, you lingered in the living room, scrolling on your phone while pretending he wasn’t there.

thats when the idea came to him; he quickly pulled his phone out, texting jeonghan.

"let's watch a horror movie, im in the mood for it." jeonghan declared out loud. you didn’t object & wonwoo could only count that as a silent win.

wonwoo should feel bad, he really should, because he knows scary movies weren’t your thing, but he doesnt feel any remorse or guilt. so here you were, sitting stiffly on the couch beside him, your arms crossed, your gaze fixed stubbornly on the screen.

he tried not to smile, he really tried.

“you know, if you’re still mad at me, you can just say so,” he whispered as the opening credits rolled.

you didn’t even spare him a glance. “i’m not mad.”

“right,” he said, dragging out the word. “you’re just giving me the cold shoulder for fun.”

“wonwoo.” your tone was a warning, but it only made him grin wider.

“okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. but as the movie started and the eerie soundtrack filled the room, he couldn’t resist stealing glances at you, waiting for the moment you’d crack.

it didn’t take long.

the first jumpscare made you flinch. by the third, you were gripping the edge of the couch cushion so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

and then came the scene. the one with the flickering lights and the slow, suspenseful build-up that everyone knew would end in something terrible.

you tensed beside him, this is it, wonwoo thinks. your breath hitching as the music swelled. and just as the shadow moved on screen, you let out a startled yelp; one hand moving to grab at his biceps, hiding your face behind it and the other subconsciously intertwines with his fingers, clutching it tightly

he blinked, startled by the yelp you let out even though he expected it, and then, a slow, triumphant smile took over his face.

“oh?” his voice was soft, teasing. “so now we’re holding hands?”

your head snapped up, your eyes wide with realization. “i—i wasn’t—” you stammered, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, keeping your fingers firmly intertwined with his.

“uh-uh,” he said, his tone light but his hold steady. “you can’t just grab my hand and then let go like that. that’s rude, you know.”

“wonwoo,” you said, your cheeks burning as you tried to tug your hand free again. “let go.”

“no,” he replied, his thumb brushing casually over your knuckles. “besides, you’re still scared, right? so what’s the harm in holding on a little longer?”

“i’m not scared,” you shot back, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.

“sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “totally fearless. that’s why you’re clinging to me like your life depends on it.”

“i am not clinging,” you hissed, glaring at him even as your face grew hotter.

he chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned in just slightly. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“i’m not flustered,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “and i’m still mad at you, by the way.” a small pout makes its way to your face.

“really?” he asked, his voice softening as he tilted his head. “because you’re not acting very mad right now.”

“i am,” you insisted, though your resolve was quickly crumbling under the weight of his teasing gaze and the warmth of his hand in yours.

“mhmm,” he hummed, his smile turning fond as he looked at you. “well, just so you know, i’m not letting go until you’re not mad anymore.”

your eyes darted to your joined hands, your heart racing as you registered the sincerity in his voice beneath the teasing.

“i’m not mad,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“oh?” he said, his grin widening. “so does that mean you’re holding my hand because you want to now?”

"I'm not holding your hand, you're holding mine!" you argued, your cheeks burning as you tried to pull away one last time.

but wonwoo didn’t budge. instead, he laced his fingers fully with yours, his grip firm but gentle.

“you should know,” he said softly, his teasing edge fading as he looked at you, “if you hold my hand so tight like this, i’m never letting go.”

your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling into the space between you like a promise.

[usoppinggg]

For the drabble prompts: 52. "I can't believe we're friends sometimes." Preferably Usopp with either Nami or Luffy, but go wild if you have a better idea. I love your writing!

Hi, anon! Thanks so much for the prompt and your kind words! <3 You get two drabbles because I felt compelled to write them both. Hope you enjoy!

—

“I can’t believe we’re friends, sometimes.”

“I know, not everyone is as lucky to be blessed with a friend as gorgeous and intelligent as me,” Nami says with a lavish toss of her hair. It’s coupled by a wink that causes a man across the street walk face-first into a pole.

Usopp is not impressed.

“You mean, not everyone is as unlucky to be cursed with a friend as greedy and conniving as y—”

Usopp cuts himself off with a pained yelp, holding his head and glaring at Nami, whose fist is still raised at him.

“Ouch! You horrid hag! You vexatious vixen! You abrasive a—“

“Oh shut up, you big baby,” she snaps. “Look, do you want to make some easy money or not?! We’re broke, so if you want to pay for food and all your stupid weapons then do as I say and stop complaining.”

“Oh, so now my weapons are stupid? If that’s the case, then hand over the Clima-Tact right now!”

Nami possessively clutches at the collapsed baton attached to her thigh. “No way, it’s mine! Besides, I think I’m allowed to call your weapons stupid considering this thing almost got me killed the first time I tried to use it, since someone thought it was a good idea to try and make me play magician instead of defending my life!”

Usopp crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at her. “You love the bouquets and you know it.”

Nami rolls her eyes, but the lack of outright refusal makes Usopp smirk at her with knowing satisfaction. She just sighs heavily, hands on her hips.

“So are you going to help me or are you going to keep whining?”

“… Give me extra allowance this month.”

“Rake in some cash, then we’ll talk.”

Usopp sticks out his hand, pinky extended. “Promise?”

Nami rolls her eyes once more, but the fondness on her face is impossible to miss. She reaches out to link her pinky with Usopp’s. “I promise.”

He grins brightly at her before his smile becomes much more devious. “Alright, let’s scam some busters.”

Nami’s smile is just as devious. “Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

—

Usopp hiccups, unsure of his swaying is because of Sunny’s journey across the sea or the alcohol in his system. He pauses. Of course it’s not because of Sunny. She sails like a dream. He pats the grassy deck below him, apologizing to the beloved ship. He spares a mental apology to Franky, too.

Usopp smiles to himself, tipping his head back and enjoying the cool nighttime air.

His head swims pleasantly after a full night of spontaneous partying. The crew celebrated everything and nothing. They celebrated just because they could.

The party is long finished and Usopp is the only one still awake, one of the few sprawled out across the deck while others managed to drag themselves to bed.

A snore steals his attention and Usopp looks down at Luffy, who’s dozing in his lap, his treasured straw hat held to his stomach.

Usopp smiles and begins playing with his captain’s hair. He runs his fingers through the thick locks, noting that Luffy is long overdue for a trim. If Usopp wasn’t so drunk and wasn’t acting as a pillow, he’d cut it now, taking advantage of this rare moment of stillness.

But he’s very drunk and very comfortable and very much unwilling to disturb his friend, so he stays put, simply enjoying the moment, enjoying the feeling of Luffy’s soft hair between his fingertips.

“I can’t believe we’re friends, sometimes,” Usopp finds himself blurting. Alcohol having loosened his tongue even more than usual.

“When I was little, I was terrified that I’d never make any friends,” he finds himself confessing. “I was scared that I was gonna be alone forever. Even with Kaya and the boys I felt lonely all the time. But then, you came to my village. And you saved everyone. You asked me to come with you, and even though I still don’t understand why, I’m so, so grateful. You made my life worth living, Captain. I can’t believe we’re friends. I can’t believe I was so lucky to meet you.”

Usopp startles as Luffy sleepily reaches up, wiping the tears off of Usopp’s face.

“Stupid Usopp,” he murmurs, voice low but not missing its usual conviction. “Of course, I was always gonna find you. Of course, I’d take you with me. I love being your friend.”

“Even though I mess up all the time?” Usopp cries.

“Yeah. I make you mad all the time, but you’re still my friend, right?”

“Of course.”

“It’s the same for me. For all of us. We’re all happy you’re our friend and that you’re part of the crew.” Luffy yawns, blinking sleepily. He grabs the hat resting on his stomach and places it atop Usopp’s curls. “‘M not gonna let you be lonely again, okay? Now come on, let’s sleep. ‘M tired.”

Usopp smiles, sniffling and wiping away the rest of his tears.

“Okay, Luffy.”

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER NINETEEN

A WEDDING UNDER PURPLE SKY

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

[March 27, 2023, 3:03pm; Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, K Wedding Salon]

When Danielle had first relied on her independence, it had led to tragedy and a couple of broken hearts. Now a string of questions and problems demanded that she make immediate decisions, and though none of them posed a death threat, panic was setting in. Dany couldn't even decide on the date of her own wedding, so much so that she was losing it at the thought of having to stand on the pedestal of responsibility for her actions.

Seating, menu planning, venue design - she hadn't lost her mind just because you were there for her. The girl tried hard not to show it, and certainly not to convey her anxiety to her fiancé - the emotions chained inside were boiling and churning, pushing Dany closer and closer to the precipice of despair. Panic clouded her own desires - she couldn't understand or even mentally visualize the white dress she'd dreamed of. And had she dreamed of it at all?

Danielle stood in front of the mirror, unsure of herself, nervously clutching the folds of the snow-white skirt. "Well, spin," Rachel mumbled tiredly, twirling her finger in the air. She sat sprawled in the chair, crossing his legs - the coffee on the low table in front of her had long since gone cold.

Danielle's lips tightened anxiously as she slowly turned around, showing you the dress in all its glory. The way she sank into the skirt and the way the corset squeezed her breasts made you and your sister look at each other. You shook your heads embarrassed, almost invisibly, realizing that the dress made the girl look twice as big. "By the way, that shit right there," Rachel, looking through her fingers, nodded at the wide tulle lantern sleeves. "Was in vogue in the nineteenth century."

Even the tight corset on Danielle's chest couldn't suppress the sob that fell from her lips. When she started to shudder, you thought for a moment that the lacing on her back was going to burst, but you didn't even have time to get out of your chair - the girl grabbed hem of the dress and ran out of the fitting room, almost falling. "Since when do ya know about fashion?" you mumbled sarcastically. "Did ya really have to say that?" you sighed, standing up.

"Why?" asked Rachel, arched her eyebrows. "The dress really is awful."

You waved your sister away and walked out of the fitting room into the hall. You saw Dany right away, and she didn't even seem to be trying to hide - the bride was sitting on a coffee table, crying with her hands over her face, and only the consultant was standing next to her, stroking her back and saying something. As you approached them, you quietly snapped your fingers, drawing attention - as soon as the consultant looked at you, you nodded over your shoulder, signaling that Danielle should be left alone. The girl immediately pulled away from the bride and hurried away, the only sounds in the hall were bitter sobs and the clatter of heels on the floor..

Danielle, barely keeping her balance, hovered over the teeming unknown abyss - you realized this as you carefully stepped closer to her. "Come up here," you commanded softly, putting your arm around her shoulders. Danielle immediately gave in - she unhooked her hands from her face and stood up from the table. Her cheeks were full of a sad blush that mingled with black smeared mascara. You, leading her over to the mirror and placing her across from it, went behind her back and began unlacing her corset. "It's not about the dress, is it?" you asked unobtrusively, releasing the girl from the stranglehold.

Danielle shook her head weakly and sniffed her nose - every time you pulled the laces, the girl twitched. "Aren't ya disappointed in me?" she asked weakly but unexpectedly. Looking at herself in the mirror, her heart cut and stabbed at the dreams and expectations left behind - this was not how Danielle saw herself. Why was she wearing white and not black? Why was it a dress and not a uniform with belts and a respirator? Weren't you angry that all the years spent training her had just gone to waste? What would her father say if he saw her like that? Danielle almost cried again, remembering how she'd dreamed of avenging him - was it the white veil that had made her back down?

"What do ya see?" you inquired. Danielle, looking at you in the mirror, saw you nod at her reflection.

"Misery," the word flew from her lips unintentionally. It was not enough to get rid of the corset - the girl was choked by the hands of grief of unfulfilled hopes. "I wanted to be a voidrunner, and now I'm gonna be just a wife," Dany grimaced in despair, almost spitting out the last words.

"Should we tell Megumi ya changed your mind then?" you shrugged, trying to provoke the girl and get the real truth out of her that was pulling her down.

"No!" she raged, tearing off the unwanted dress - now, standing in the middle of the snow-white fabric in just her underwear, Danielle felt vulnerable.

Taking her by the shoulders, you rested your chin on her fragile shoulder - the girl tried to shield herself from you, hugging herself and covering her breasts. "What are you hiding there?" you laughed softly. "Who do ya think bathed ya while your parents were out on missions?" the girl only became more embarrassed and lowered her gaze to the floor, but you stubbornly took her by the chin and lifted her head so she could continue to look at herself in the mirror. "And I see a beautiful girl, alive and real," you said, tucking her golden curl behind her ear, exposing her face.

The corners of her lips twitched faintly at the thought of Megumi - Danielle ran her fingers over the watch on her hand, gently looking at it. She wondered if Fushiguro was experiencing it the same way she was. Did he envision her in her dress, walking down the aisle? Would he cry when she threw back the white veil and spoke the innermost words of consent? "I just... I didn't see myself like this," she whispered shyly, shifting from foot to foot. "And I think the others wanted to see me different too," her quiet words sounded like a confession. 

"It doesn't matter what others wanted from ya," you said, putting your arm around her waist. "Ya can be strong, independent, ya can be a hunter, ya can be a loving wife to a loving husband - none of that defines your accomplishments, and ya don't have to think about others. Don't care about their praise or their disappointment. The most important thing is to live a life in which ya happy, and whatever makes ya happy is already right by default. Within the law, of course," you added, frowning, and Dany chuckled - she knew that was a rule you sometimes didn't follow. "Let's have coffee now and try on another dress," you encouraged her.

The consultant, like a guardian angel, was immediately at your side and handed Danielle's silk robe - she embarrassedly slipped it over her bare shoulders and stepped aside, tightening the belt. When the consultant saw the crumpled dress on the floor, her look became not at all angelic. "I'll pay for it," you grinned carelessly, shrugging guiltily.

[May 23, 2023, 5:31pm; Hopetown]

A true hunter should have a weapon under their belt at all times. You stood in the blue dress, feeling naked and vulnerable, and though your dagger was always on guard, you could feel the anxiety steaming inside, its red embers smoldering and scattering, making you taste the ash in your mouth.

Absolutely everyone in the city was agitated and disheveled - some were worried about their appearance, some had forgotten which seat and at which table they were assigned, and some had lost their favorite cufflinks. All the disgruntled, happy and worried cries rang out, making you squint - every voice seemed like a bell ringing. You glared at the bride's bouquet, but the puzzle didn't fit in your head. Everything seemed out of place - even the butterfly pins, which wings broke when you pinned your hair behind your ears, proved it. "Don't ya think the roses are a little out of place here?" you asked absently, carefully placing the bouquet on the table.

"Ya nuts?" slurred Rachel, a hairbrush clenched in her teeth as her hands worked on Danielle's head. You looked again at the bouquet, which consisted only of white roses.

You sighed excitedly, flicking back the strands of hair falling over your face irritably. "What about our dresses?" you worried, spreading your hands. When Rachel raised an eyebrow defiantly, you quieted down a little, but still continued to press on. "We're bridesmaids, shouldn't it be the same color and style?"

"Then wear the red one," Rachel barked, letting you know to get away from her tight dress - she'd spent at least a month looking for it, pestered and harassed the consultants at every store she'd visited, all just to get a dress that looked like the ones she used to wear on dates. "Look, maybe ya're against this wedding altogether?" she asked grudgingly, styling Dany's hair into a high, voluminous bun.

Danielle gave a worried, almost battered look. The girl sat obediently, almost ready to turn the lonely page of life, and the dress that hugged her body looked marvelous - no tulle, only pure snow-white satin that flowed freely to her feet, and only the corset shouted quietly, showing its lace and attracting attention. Her bare shoulders looked as fragile as porcelain, but Dany tried to keep her head high, so as not to show her own weakness and insecurity - the thin neck was kissed by the tiny pearls of a modest necklace, giving the girl courage. "No, not at all," you said with a gasp, trying to dispel Danielle's unspoken concerns - she looked so beautiful that you didn't want to tarnish her image with a single tear.

Once again, a small hurricane swept past you. "Mike!" Rachel yelled, trying to calm her son, who was running around the room with Tris, inadvertently grabbing everything in his path. The son looked angrily at his mother, pouted his lips, but obediently sat down on the floor. Tris, realizing that no one else was catching up to her, began to sway and twirl from side to side - you couldn't get angry or lecture her on behavior, for they were just kids with an endless supply of energy who were deliberately locked in a room with boring adults. "Maybe I should put the front strands in a bun too...?" mumbled Rachel uncertainly, trying on Dany's hair.

"Ya sure corset fits me well?" asked Dany embarrassedly, fussily pulling up her bust.

"No, I don't think so," you answered honestly to your sister, admiring Danielle. As you came closer, you squatted down in front of her and gently fixed a curl that had fallen into her face. "Ya look amazing," you admitted in a surprisingly shaky voice.

"Don't," the girl shook her head desperately, realizing the point and the stupidity of her question. "If ya say another word, I'll cry. And I can't cry right now. I will ruin my makeup," she squeaked in a broken voice, rubbing the folds of her dress. With a forceful sniffle, Danielle ordered the tears to retreat.

"Hey, that's mine!" resentfully exclaimed Mike behind your backs, and once again there was mayhem.

Tris was running around the room with a small rose in her hand - she had just snatched it from Mike's chest pocket. You didn't even have time to stop the kids - the little girl, laughing at the top of her voice, was running circles around the room, jumping up on the bed, then jumping on the floor, sometimes glancing at her pursuer. At one point she didn't see what was in front of her and crashed right into the desk - Tris fell, clutching her forehead, and brushes, lipsticks, shadows, and, worst of all, blush, which spread its pink dust over the snow-white hemline, fell too.

"Freeze!" ordered Rachel quickly, but not to the children, but to Danielle - putting her index finger in front of Dany's face, Rachel glared at her. The bride froze in utter shock with her mouth open, but didn't utter a word. "Nothing terrible has happened, just breathe," your sister said calmly. "Now get up carefully and let's go to the bathroom."

"Why ya crying?" you asked Tris tiredly, taking a seat next to her.

"It hurts!" she sobbed, rubbing her forehead vigorously and demonstratively and peering at you surreptitiously - would it occur to you that you should have blown on it? 

Tris was snatched right out from under your nose before you could make a sound. "Get her over here," Rachel commanded, scooping the whimpering girl into her arms. "Ya too," she turned sternly to her son. "Ya'll go to Frank's now, I can't stand it any longer. Dany, follow me!"

Danielle, picking up the hem of her dress and stepping over the mess on the floor, scampered after Rach and the children, and as soon as you were alone, the glowing embers burst into flames, and instead of ashes you felt nothing but scalding tongues of flame.

The fourth core was the last thing you destroyed - after that, you spent almost a year running around the void like clueless fools. You didn't see another settlement, not a single person alive or dead as if someone had deliberately changed the configuration, or worse, with invisible hands and inaudible orders, directed you to the wrong places.

You thoughtfully played with the broken wings of the blue butterflies on the table with your finger. The moment of truth was inevitably approaching, and though you thought you were ready for it, your fingers were trembling. You looked at everyone in the town as an enemy on the morning of the wedding day. Breathing heavily, you brushed the hairpins away from you, nervously ran your hands through your hair and picked up the silver hip chain.

The slit of the dress made it easy for you - you put up your leg on the table, and the hem of the skirt slid down over your skin, revealing everything from hip to ankle. You felt like you were sweating even from such basic and simple movements - you had only wrapped the chain around your thigh, and it felt like you were suffocating. You struggled to find the lock in the links and pulled frantically, trying to bend the hook, but it wouldn't budge. You were on the verge of hysterics for things were not going according to plan.

When the hook failed again, you raked the chain in your hand and threw it on the table with force - it rattled pitifully, quietly, and you clutched your head. It was the only sound you'd heard since everyone else had left the room. The creature inside was silent, so quiet that it added another grain of suspicion to the sloshing bowl of worry. Was it gloating? Did it deliberately give no clues? It didn't even whine about being hungry. You had lived side by side with it all your life, sharing not only your body but also your soul, and yet you still knew neither its loyalty nor its treachery.

There was a soft knock, and you were almost ready to lash out at whoever was about to enter, but the remnants of your sanity chained your feet to the floor. The door clicked open, letting you know that the guest hadn't even waited for permission to enter. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you were confronted with a fascinated look - Gojo froze in the doorway, unable to take his eyes off you. "You...," he whispered admiringly, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. "You look like..."

You squirmed in embarrassment and looked away. "Well, you know," laughed the sorcerer, standing behind you and putting his arm around your shoulders. "If I were a bee and you were a flower, I'd pollinate only you."

There was no trace of gentle shyness left - your jaw dropped open in shock, and you frowned your eyebrows in disbelief, hiding your face in your hand in shame. Only the shame wasn't yours. "Never again," you mumbled through a suppressed laugh. "Never again in your life even think about complimenting me."

Gojo laughed softly, hugging you tighter - you were naive to think he'd said that for laughs. If you'd only seen yourself, if you'd known he felt your anxiety as his own, you'd understand why he'd acted like a clown. "No, really," he murmured softly, pulling back a little and looking at you in the mirror. "You look like..."  

Was there such a word in any language at all? Or had the sorcerer, enveloped and enslaved by your countenance, forgotten his own? Your blue fit-and-flare dress was simple and almost closed, with only the loose sleeves woven of translucent fabric condescendingly allowing your scars to see the sunlight. Even the neckline was maddening to Gojo - it wasn't deep at all, but it exposed your collarbones. Only your deep trust, freely given to him, stopped him from ripping your dress off as he glanced down at the exposed top of your breasts, which rose slowly as if begging to be released, and he buried his nose in your neck. He understood why you'd allowed yourself such a neckline - your neck was covered with a satin blue ribbon that covered dozens of scars, and what upset him about the divine image was your mask. You didn't even take it off, you just changed the color to blue.  

"How do I look?" you ask quietly, exhausted with anticipation.

"Like the love of all my lives," grinned Gojo smugly, hiding his shyness behind his impudence.

You laughed for the second time, and he was ready to grab that laugh and put it in his chest pocket, to keep him warm day and night for the rest of your days, but he still felt the anxiety that hugged you instead. "Mochi," he turned to you affectionately, gently rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," you admitted honestly, shrugging uncertainly. "It's just... It's just that I've been composing the image in my head for a long time," you began to ramble, panting. "And then the hairpins broke, and now the damn chain won't fasten, and the whole look went to hell-"

"Okay, stop," he stopped you gently. "Let's go in order. Where are the hairpins?" you nodded sullenly at the broken butterflies on the table. Gojo, taking the hairpins and digging through the desk drawer, sat down in the chair Danielle had been sitting in earlier. It was so strange to watch a man who did everything carelessly and did it successfully, focused on anything. You peeked over his shoulder, watching as he carefully and meticulously applied glue to the broken edges, sticking out the tip of his tongue. Letting the butterflies dry, the sorcerer took the blue shadow and, after carefully painting over the joints, rose from his chair - grinning embarrassedly and tucking your strands behind your ears, he put it on you. It was such a simple gesture, but why did his eyes suddenly stung? "What do we have next on the list?"

"A hip chain."

The sorcerer's face immediately darkened, for when you spoke of the chain earlier, you did not mention its functionality. "Uh, okay," he gulped. "Sit on the bed for now."

Gojo didn't even have anything to grab onto, no time to stretch because the jewelry was on the table - it was shining brightly, catching his eye. He glanced over his shoulder at you - you were already sitting on the bed, the cheeky cut mocking him, exposing your perfect, scarred leg. Shifting his gaze to his hands, he realized with horror that his fingers were subtly trembling. Exhaling, he snapped back to his senses - the sorcerer wasn't about to back down, leaving you alone with even something minor.

He grabbed the chain confidently and walked to the bed, then slowly knelt down in front of you. You felt strange - he never once raised his unusual, frowning gaze to you. He took your leg and placed it carefully on his shoulder, the chain jingling with joy as he unraveled it and wrapped it around your thigh. Gojo grinned wistfully, his hands were shaking, and he was a poor assistant at the moment. He exhaled noisily, hotly, when the hook finally came together, but his insides went cold when he realized you were in no hurry to remove your leg, and Gojo looked at you hesitantly, almost timidly.

You saw no lust on his face. Passion and lust cloud the human gaze, stupefy the mind, but the Gojo's eyes were clear, shiny - a flickering blue flame that begged you not to extinguish it. With the knowledge that he would smolder in hell for this, Gojo turned his head slightly, pressed your knee closer, and kissed it. 

"Toru," his name scorched on your trembling exhale, snapping all his stamina. With a pitiful whimper on his lips, Gojo continued to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh, paying special attention to the scars - he nibbled them gently, carefully running his hot tongue over each imperfection, trying to make you forget about them. The grip of his hand on your waist grew more insistent, but no matter how tightly he held you, it never became violent - it was as if he were silently begging you not to push him away. You grasped his shoulder, lost in the sensations of hot kisses and cold silver chain, but you couldn't find the strength to pull away.   

Gently but brazenly moving on, straight to your hearts and innermost places, tearing his way between kisses and silent moans, Gojo felt like he was about to suffocate, but even death seemed a more lenient punishment than pulling away and leaving you. You could feel his disheveled white hair tickling your skin as he gently rubbed his cheek and nose against your skin in brief moments of respite, letting your heated souls cool, but only to begin caressing you again. He was close, so close that you were scared - you didn't know which side to expect a blow from, or when you would finally be hurt. "Toru!" you exclaimed anxiously, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Confused, Gojo pulled away from you abruptly. He realized he could have ended up sprawled on the wall, but instead the sorcerer met you, worried and helpless - you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to cover yourself, and it was all his doing - he was the one who conjured and molded your frightened image. "I'm sorry, I'm- I'm not ready for this, I'm not-" you sputtered in a worried apology, lowering your eyes. "I can't-"

Gojo, biting his lip painfully, cupped your hot cheeks. "Don't," he pleaded, shaking his head. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who didn't hold back," he said through his teeth, angry with himself. "I'm sorry. God, baby, I'm so sorry," pulling you against him, the sorcerer felt your body quivering in small shivers, and oh gods, how scared he was to look at your face. He wasn't ready to see your tears. Gojo couldn't hear them, couldn't feel his shirt getting wet, but you were clutching at him like your life depended on it. 

He wanted to be your support, but he broke as soon as he knelt before you. His heart became lifeless as soon as Gojo thought of you running away again, taking your trust and vulnerability with you. Your feelings, like a house of cards caught in the onslaught of a greedy wind, threatened to fly away, to evaporate - now he could feel the fear that the consequences of his greed had brought. "I can't believe it," the sorcerer grinned bitterly, pulling away from you slightly. The fact that you still hadn't raised your gaze to him was a punishment to him. "I almost broke it myself just now," persistence reluctantly gave way to tenderness - Gojo, once again cupping your cheeks, showered your face with sad, slow kisses. You neither confirmed nor denied what he said, and your silence fell heavy on his shoulders. "Please tell me I didn't break it," he pleaded, making a desperate attempt at seeking your reassurance - Gojo, ignoring the fact that your mask separated you, covered your lips with his. You, almost feeling their warmth, gave a short, pitiful whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. "Please, say it."    

You shook your head weakly. "Really?" smiled Gojo, holding back tears. He sat before you, trying to seek your forgiveness, and you couldn't understand why and from where was the remorse in his eyes? What was astonishing to your ignorant soul was that he didn't take advantage of your stupor, you didn't feel dirty or used, you didn't feel like gutting your own brains and ripping out your own heart. "I'll never do anything you don't want me to," he promised you in a hot whisper, his hand buried in your hair.

"Okay," you replied embarrassedly, biting your lip naively. You were learning to accept the close, warm embrace as pure touch - Gojo was ready to glue himself to you, to assure you that he would never hurt you. 

The open door took away the intimacy of the moment - you both flinched, and Gojo pulled you closer to him, harder, protecting you. "Ya halfwits out of your minds?" gasped Rachel, seeing you in the intimate pose. "The ceremony is about to start and you have a speech to give!" she barked. "Get out of here now!"

"What speech?" you mumbled worriedly, looking at your sister dumbfounded.

"Ya'll be making the first toast to the newlyweds," your sister, indignant at your obliviousness, rolled her eyes.

"But no one told me anything!"

"Well... I just told ya," Rach shrugged indifferently and left the room, giving you one last angry look.

The river was extremely calm – it wasn't worried about the delight of the guests, nor the exciting expectation of the betrothed. You had been clearing the shore for months, making it smooth and hospitable, and you could only hope that the waters would be favorable and would not wash it away. The forces of nature took pity on you and your labors - the holding site remained touched only by your hands.

Dozens of round tables were set up on the stone-paved shore - the guests slowly flocked to the venue, taking their seats. Some were whispering about the bride, some were quietly lamenting the fact that there was still no alcohol on the tables, and some were rubbing their stomachs in anticipation, but absolutely everyone was avoiding the path reserved for the bride - her path, framed by thousands of scarlet rose petals, led straight to the white archway under which the Holy Father and the groom were already standing. Megumi clenched and unclenched his fists as he lowered his head and raised it to gaze up at the heavens, and it was obvious that he was having a hard time standing still and waiting.  

Despite Dany's protests and objections, you had to sacrifice the opportunity to see the altar up close - you sat at the side end table so that you could see everyone else. Decorated awnings to protect you from the sun or rain had to be abandoned in the name of the plan, too. Only Rachel, Issu, Megumi, Frank, and Gojo knew about the whole clandestine operation, and everyone kept their mouths shut, no one daring to even glance up to indicate that they were involved in anything. You glanced restlessly at the empty seat to your right, where Rachel was supposed to be sitting. You knew that she and Frank were finishing bottling the orchid wine right now, but you still felt uneasy. 

"I beg your pardon," the man addressed you, placing his hand on your shoulder and smiling self-consciously. You didn't even see Gojo look him over from head to toe and unobtrusively slip man's hand off your arm. "Anything stronger than champagne tonight?" he asked, slurring. 

"We're having a wedding, not a corporate party," you replied, smiling cordially back. "Now take your seat," the contrast in your voice made the man straighten up, even though you weren't paying attention to him at all.

You, crossing your legs, fussily adjusted your skirt, smoothing out the folds and shaking off invisible dust, and, not being able to closely examine each and every guest, you closed your eyes, remembering the previously captured picture, mentally walking among the tables, and in your head was rushing one question - which of them?

When you squeezed the fabric again, Gojo took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your palm. "What is it?" the sorcerer asked delicately, gazing into your eyes. 

"I feel uneasy," you admitted honestly.

"It's okay, Mochi," he assured you softly, continuing to cover your palm with kisses. "Even if there are ten of them, we can handle it," you nodded weakly, squeezing his hand, trying to express some of the gratitude you felt now.

You sighed as a notification played on your phone.

[05:51pm] Frank: We're done with the wine. 

[05:59pm] Frank: It's time.

You looked again at the empty seat on the right - if Frank was already with Danielle, where was your sister? Turning around, you met the eyes of the musicians who were already at the ready - a soft wave of your hand made you feel as if you were the one walking down the aisle. A moment later, the violin played its song, beginning the countdown to the imminent joining of two hearts.

The musicians' melody attracted hundreds of waiting eyes, and no one noticed how the bride came out from the corner of the nearest house to be at the beginning of her journey, where two little kids - Tris and Mike - were waiting for her. The children were jumping up and down with joy, eager to see the girl off, even though they barely understood the significance of what was happening. Danielle, holding the proud Frank under her arm, could not take her eyes off the floor - the clatter of her heels became louder and clearer, and no one could ignore the bride when she stepped on the path of scarlet roses.

Megumi, unable to withstand the onslaught of emotion, pressed his hands into his face and turned away - the dazed Father was confused at first, but immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "My son, you must realize that you are missing a moment that will never come again," he addressed Fushiguro gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Megumi pulled his hands away from his face in fright - the Holy Father smiled softly when he saw the boy's red eyes flooded with tears. Megumi embarrassedly accepted the handkerchief from the elderly hands, and turned around, swallowing.

The boy, realizing that he had almost missed it, pressed his hand to his mouth, holding back the insolent and insistent crying. His girl, in a beautiful white dress, was already in tears before she even reached the altar. The children were running ahead, and while Mike was somewhat aware of what was happening and scattering petals right in front of Dany, for Tris it was just a game - Megumi grinned wetly, sobbing as the little girl threw petals at someone's face.

Danielle was almost in his arms as Frank glared menacingly at Megumi, silently ordering him to take care of her for the rest of his life. Of course, the gray-haired man was jealous, but all he had to do was lift his chin, adjust his tie, and stand beside the couple. 

Megumi and Danielle couldn't look away from each other. They were aware that they were not observing the norms of propriety - the couple were supposed to stand across from each other and look into each other's eyes - but now, even as the priest spoke, they stood with their arms around each other, their shoulders shaking in unison.

Perhaps you should have listened to Danielle and sat closer to them - you couldn't hear the speech or the sobs from here. You could only see the Holy Father's lips moving, Fushiguro stroking his bride's cheeks as she nodded frantically, desperately pressing her forehead against his. She no longer cared about the makeup and the long-washed blush on the hem of her dress, she didn't care about the people staring at them, there was only peace around them, existed in each other's eyes.

Gojo was looking at them, fiddling with the watch on his hand - just when he thought you might see it, he pulled his hand away, even though it felt like a magnet pulling it back. The blue in his eyes had somehow turned white, so luminous that it was almost unbearable to keep his eyelids open. "They grow up so fast...," the sorcerer muttered without a trace of silliness in his voice. You, pursing your lips and nodding, clinked your glass with his empty one on the table and drank the champagne in a gulp. "Don't push it," he reprimanded you, taking your glass and the bottle that stood in close proximity from you. "You still have a speech to give." 

"Don't remind me," you whimpered, leaning back in your chair.

The violin melody faded away, replaced by a different, loud and explosive one as Axel and Ryan jumped up from their seats and applauded first, making everyone pick up their tune, while the husband and wife stood under the altar and kissed self-consciously and tenderly, ignoring everyone else.

The waiters were pouring champagne and serving food, and Issu and his younger brother were among the proven faces - you wouldn't trust anyone else to pour wine into people's glasses. Megumi was a groom, Gojo looked more like a guest of honor than an attendant, and everyone knew you, Rachel, and Frank by sight. Only Issu, always inconspicuous and quiet, fit the role.

You watched with a soft smile as Megumi took his wife by the hand and led her to the table at the head of the others, where there were only two seats. A small and cheeky little girl was tangled under their feet, and you could tell from her outstretched arms that she was begging to be held. "I'll be right back," you said quietly, intent on picking up the interfering Tris.

As you got closer, you heard Little Miss Drama squealing indignantly about sparkles. "I want it like it's town day!" she whined, rubbing Megumi's sleeve. Without waiting for the right moment, you scooped her up into your arms - she fidgeted, pouting her lips.

"Axel!" you shouted to be heard. Axel looked up from his plate and stared at you with his mouth full. "Give me a hand!" you gave some indication of what you needed to do by clapping your hands together. The boy nodded understandingly, wiped his face with the handkerchief, and stood up from his chair - you had been under the weight of Camila's hard stare the whole time. She was ready to tear you apart at the mere mention of her son, and all you could think about was that after the wedding she wouldn't let the boys out of town. At least not over her dead body.

The boy, clapping his hands, released a thousand sparks, and they soared high upward, but the sunset sky was willful and haughty, not allowing them to shine in full force. Only the eastern skies, soft, benevolent, and covered with twilight, helped the sparks fulfill their purpose. Tris, with her head back, no longer muttered or whimpered, but watched mesmerized as the lights floated in the waters of the sky.

"You could have asked me," Megumi reproached you sullenly.

"Don't pout," you smiled sincerely. "Ya're having a wedding today," you reminded, shifting your gaze to Danielle - her cheeks, neck and shoulders were especially ruddy against the white dress. "Congratulations, guys!" you giggled softly, making the newlyweds smile stupidly and embarrassedly.

"Thank ya," Danielle whispered, fussily fixing her curls.

Gojo watched you, the way you chattered with Dany, the way you glanced playfully at Megumi, and the way you held Tris in your arms, who wriggled and bounced, trying to catch a single light without realizing it was far away. Your dress was softly moving, the wind was ruffling your hair, and the butterflies seemed to come to life - it seemed to the sorcerer that their wings were fluttering smoothly. He didn't flinch even when Frank plopped into the chair to his left - so mesmerized was Gojo. "Don't ya dare, son," Frank ordered sternly, seeing Gojo stroking the watch on his wrist in impatience. "It's the kid's day today, so don't ya dare turn all the attention on yourself."  

"If I ever did...," he muttered, lost in his reverie and not realizing what the conversation was about.

Frank hummed thoughtfully under his breath. "Ya're gonna rip the strap on your watch like that," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow, and Gojo pulled his hands under the table. His broad shoulders slumped, and Frank patted the sorcerer on the back with a sigh. Though he no longer pestered the watch the man had given him earlier, his gaze didn't change. Frank knew how Gojo felt because he had once looked at his wife as well, and would only continue to look if she were here.  

Feeling the tears come to his eyes, Frank filled his glass with champagne and took a large sip. His sun would never wake up and rise again, and he grinned wistfully, feeling warm inside at the thought of a once stranger finding his sunshine. "You alright?" asked Gojo, but only cringed squeamishly when he saw the elderly wet eyes. "Gosh... Are all old men so sentimental?" he quietly resented, trying to re-layer the once elusive smugness and nonchalance that you had unceremoniously snapped off. 

"By the time ya're my age, ya'll find out," Frank muttered, waving him off and filling his glass again - as soon as he wanted to fill the sorcerer's glass, Gojo instantly covered it with his palm.

"It's strange, actually," Gojo marveled quietly, his chin resting on his hand as he watched you lure one of the sparks with your hand as it lowered gently, shining brighter and brighter. The memory of your skin still burned on his lips, and in his heart was your gaze, always on him, whether you were angry or in love with him. You never said the word out loud, never even stuttered or wandered around sending Gojo hints or riddles. "I always wanted to die in battle at the hands of a man or creature that superior to me in strength, and back then, in the battle with Sukuna, I really thought it was my last day," he smiled stupidly, trying to suppress a chuckle as the light tried to escape from you back into the sky, but you stubbornly pulled it back - it levitated over your palm, displeased at being studied by childish eyes. "I was even glad because I didn't wanna die of old age or disease. I considered those deaths unworthy of me," just like everything and everyone else. Only an unscrupulous person could poke a sorcerer's nose in his own smugness. You did it without realizing it yourself, turned his world upside down, and there was nothing left for him to do but take the feeling hidden from everyone, even himself, from his pockets. "It's only recently that I've realized that I... I don't wanna die at all."  

"Why the change of mind?" asked Frank slyly, looking at Gojo understandingly.

The Gojo's breath caught when you turned suddenly to him - you were still holding the hovering spark in your palm, and you laughed warmly, realizing that you'd been watching all this time. Letting the flame go free, you waved to him gently, and Gojo, smoldering with embarrassment and melting at the sight of you, waved back shyly. "It was more change of a heart."   

The sorcerer faltered as you headed back to the table - he kicked Frank to keep his mouth shut, and got a fatherly slap for it. Why didn't he think about how much it would hurt to bare weaknesses that, left defenseless, were suddenly exposed to the looming blades of fear? As you sat down next to him, Tris crawled over Gojo and plopped herself onto the softer - you snorted quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as Tris made herself comfortable on Frank's legs.

"Oh, we should hide it...," Frank said politely, setting the champagne bottle aside, but, already tipsy, he didn't notice the glass on the way - it toppled over, staining the white tablecloth, the man's pants, and, disastrously, the girl's dress. "Don't panic," Frank ordered - Tris didn't even have time to squeak. "We'll have a quick change of clothes. We'll be back in time for the first toast," he looked meaningfully at Gojo, and he nodded and put his arm around you as if trying to shield you from any harm. 

As soon as Frank stood up, you saw a graceful figure float up to the newlyweds' table. "What?" you hissed, gazing Nathaniel with harsh look. "What's he doing here?" you remembered that you'd told Frank to lock him out of the town - so how did he get in here, and why? Your nerves were already frayed, and you'd been suspicious of everyone since this morning - the arrogant, unconcerned look of a superior who'd shown up at a wedding made your blood boil. 

"I'm the one who gave him access," Frank told you back. "And he's the one who covered for you."

"Did I ask for that?" you protested.

"Quiet, girl!" the man bellowed, but it was harder to sermonize you now - Frank could see the way Gojo's hand tensed, and the look he gave the gray-haired man as soon as he snapped at you. Tris, sensing the quarrel with her childish heart, whimpered quietly. "I'm sorry," he coughed awkwardly. "He's really been a big help, so ya should thank him. I'll lock town back up for him right away after the wedding, if it makes ya feel better," nodding, Frank carried the little girl to the house on the hill. 

You didn't even realize how hard you were clenching your teeth as you glared at the golden hair. Inside, you felt like you'd been played for a fool before you could do anything about it. You tried your best to shrug it off as anxiety - though it had some basis in fact, you were tired of doubting, your mind melting under the strain. "Mochi," Gojo whispered softly in your ear, pulling you out of your daze and throwing you into a shiver. "How about we dance?" he suggested slyly, rising from his seat. How do you get used to him reading you like an open book? How do you get over the fact that he could feel your emotions, even completely unable to see your face? 

"I don't...," you stammered embarrassedly, scratching the back of your head. "I don't know how to dance. Not at all."

You were late and there was no strength in your excuses - he was already standing before you, ready to pick you up and dispel your fear, protecting your vulnerability. "Does it matter?" Gojo grinned softly, holding out a warm hand to you.

Avoiding responsibility in the blazing sun, you lay on the roof ledge of a one-story bar with one leg overhanging and your eyes closed. You didn't want to go home because there was a chance that Frank would put a mountain of chores on your shoulders. You just wanted to rest after the raid. You'd rather sink into a puddle of sweat than spend an evening in the garden.

No matter how shameless you were, you still frowned every time you thought of Kyle - he'd taken all of his father's wrath on himself and was probably working for the three of you right now. The laziness was louder and more persuasive anyway, and the fatigue echoed it every now and then, leaving the shame to squeak quietly in the far corner of your tired mind.

You put your hands behind your head and made yourself comfortable, even though you knew that sleep would never catch up with you, neither here, under the evil sun, nor in a comfortable bed. You didn't care about the people passing by - there weren't many of them anyway, for in this heat they were all hiding in the cool shadows of their homes. "Hello," you glanced down, leisurely opening one eye.

"Hey, Nael," you chirped sleepily, propping yourself up on your elbows. "What up?"

"Why don't you come down first?" he asked sternly.

"Ya the one who came to me," you grinned playfully, squinting against the sun. "So ya the one who came up," Nathaniel stepped from foot to foot, and you couldn't help but wonder - he'd been practicing long and hard for the past few months, had he still not mastered relocating? He was fidgeting around the bar, and barely did you see the quiet desperation in his eyes, you decided to spare the man. "There's a ladder in the back," you chuckled, pointing a thumb behind your back.

You thought you heard a quiet snort and a disgruntled muttering - maybe it was just the mockery of the heat. It took Nathaniel longer to shake himself off than it did to get up on the roof - he was still squirming as he moved closer to you, smoothing his shirt sleeves with a squeamish look. Realizing you weren't going to get up, the man wrinkled his nose and sat down on the ledge next to you. " Filthy weather," he muttered, feeling the sweat running down his body.  

"Ya didn't come to talk about the weather," you sighed frustratedly. "Well, tell me about it. How's the promotion going?"

Even his primness couldn't hide his resentment; despite his proudly straight back, his eyes told everything about him. "I won't lie. Sometimes I just think they enjoy picking on me. Christian loading me up with pointless work and endless trainings, taking me for an errand boy, but as soon as I dare mention promotion, he tells me that the staff is full and there are no changes to the council," he went on in a rank tirade without raising his voice, though Nathaniel's graceful but sharp gesticulation gave him away. "Why can't he just raise the number of people on the council from five to six?"

"That's the way it's been since the founding of the hunters as an organization," you shrugged nonchalantly. "At least according to the stories."

"Then I especially don't see the point of all this," Nathaniel grinned, and you looked away. Someone like him wouldn't show so much emotion for free. "None of them are going to die anytime soon, so why do they have to press at me like this?"

"Because ya'd make a good successor," you grimaced at your own words, for the uncertainty seeping through them blurred any truthfulness. There was an undercurrent of ambiguity in you - you couldn't believe that such a man had come just to complain.

"Can you help me?" blurted out, but immediately stopped when he heard the desperation in his voice, and lifted his chin.

"What do ya want from me?" you asked tiredly. The more a man got more honest, the more exhausted it got.

"I have some information," the man said quietly, carefully, intertwining his fingers. "I know that Edgar...," Nathaniel hesitated, choosing tactful words. "That he has a… connection with the dioreact."

"And?"

"Follow him," his words sounded almost like an order. "Follow him, see it for yourself, memorize it, and take Edgar to trial."

You sat up fully and gave the man a rounded stare, but not from shock. From interest. "What?" you laughed at the top of your voice, grabbing your chest. "Ya've got a knack for it. I respect that."

"I wasn't kidding-"

"Then why don't ya take him yourself?" Nathaniel's insides went cold when he heard your tone-not even the wind was so fickle. You'd been laughing only a second ago, but your smile had been replaced by indifference - so piercing, so burning that it seemed stiff. It all but proved that the black eyes he'd once seen in the void were no illusion.

"Because I'm scared," he admitted on an exhale. "I've never been there, and you... It's your job. Besides, I'm not sure I can beat Edgar."

"Then why did ya decide you were worthy to take his place?"

"I can be of use to you," the man stated firmly. "Don't you need your own person among those who constantly want to get rid of you?"

"That's odd," you drawled. "Why didn't ya just tell Christian and the others about it?"

"I did!" burst out the man. "Do you think anyone ever believed me?"

You were not interested in the moral side of the matter. You worshipped only two lords - gluttony and greed - and unfortunately, Nathaniel could not satiate either of them. "And what will ya pay with?" you grinned ironically. "Ya have nothing."

As Nathaniel sat there, accepting his defeat, you wondered how close you could let him get. How soon will a friend turn out to be an enemy? And wasn't he an enemy initially? "Ya know, there's something," you said, wary of betrayal. Nathaniel looked at you cautiously, and then at the dagger you clutched in your hand. "In return for my promise, I'll take yours."

The man stared at you, stunned, his arrogance gone. Dark, glittering, carnivorous eyes stared back at him, and you slowly held out the dagger to him. "Don't... Don't you just need mental consent?" he whispered fearfully, afraid to take hold of your part that obeyed only you.

"No-no-no," you reassured him with contrived gentleness, tilting your head to the side and shoving the dagger into his hands. "I don't do that sort of thing," you chuckled, straightening your head sharply and moving closer to the man. "I need a clear answer," you held out your bare wrist to him. "Yes means yes, no means no."

Swallowing, Nael grasped the hilt with a trembling hand. He would not have a better opportunity - if he refused, he risked being an unwanted soul, once pulled from the void. Ambition took its course - if the ladder did not want to be climbed, he would build his own, climbing it he would be able to see everything crystal clear, and, what was even better, to look down on everyone. He drew a line across your wrist with the edge of the dagger, but instead of blood, he saw only a faint glow, which was immediately extinguished. Nathaniel drew a second line over the first, leaving his promise on you forever.

The time was inevitably approaching evening, and the sparks in the sky were burning brighter and brighter. All the guests, well-fed and happy, were sitting at their tables, talking excitedly and impatiently, waiting for the first toast to the newlyweds. You, looking at everyone, couldn't even open your mouth. Frank and Tris still hadn't returned - you couldn't know, but maybe the man had decided it would be safer for the little girl, or maybe she was cranky and was picking out a suitable dress from the dozens of previously bought ones. Once again looking at the empty seat on the right, you couldn't stand it - taking the phone in your hands, you dialed your sister.

The call wasn't answered right away - the beeps, deliberately stretching out, made you drum your fingers on the table. "What do ya want?" asked Rachel grudgingly. She was breathing heavily, clearly out of breath and trying to hide it.

"Where the hell are ya?" you whispered anxiously, covering your face lightly with your hand and hiding your gaze from everyone. 

"Ya stupid?" hissed Rachel. "Who do ya think supposed to bottle the wine from the barrels?" you swallowed nervously when you saw the waiters - some of them carrying out wooden boxes, others swapping guests' dirty glasses for clean ones. You instantly hung up the phone with a trembling finger. She's just up to her old tricks. Getting drunk again, or worse, running straight from the wedding into the grip of another lustful suitor. You'd probably called her in the middle of action - you shook your head, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you tried to brush away the images.

As the waiter approached you to pour the wine into your glasses, you looked up to see Issu standing in front of you, one hand holding the bottom of the bottle and the other behind his back. He nodded briefly to you as a sign of readiness, you nodded back and looked at Megumi – the boy seemed to have been waiting for this, and repeated your gesture.

"Baby," Gojo called softly, squeezing your naked thigh, trying to comfort you, to soothe you. "Everyone's waiting," you looked at the faces of the guests with a hazy look, all of them blended into a single, rotten blur that stared right back at you. Your own flesh felt like it had been gnawed off, your blue dress became red – feeling almost retching, you tried to stand up, but you were stopped by the sorcerer's hand. He squeezed your shoulder gently and stood up. "I apologize," he smiled kindly at his guests, raising his wine-filled glass. "It's just that when Y/N is around me, she gets speechless," Gojo looked around with piercing blue eyes at the people in jackets and dresses, whose gazes were fixed on him, but the sorcerer was only interested in ones, dark blue and occasionally frowning. "Well, Megumi, now I'm really starting to get jealous," someone coughed embarrassedly, and some looked at each other perplexed, but the sorcerer didn't care about those people's misunderstandings. "And seriously...It's strange to see you like this," he sighed. A sullen expression loomed on Megumi's stone face. "Really, it is strange. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing at all," he grinned vaguely, stroking the walls of the cool glass with his thumb. Facing Sukuna, Gojo couldn't even think of seeing Fushiguro eating breakfast at the table one day. Embarrassment at his own thoughts and his own useless power caused him to stifle his gaze for a moment. "Dany, you got the scowliest, the grumpiest," Gojo wanted to laugh, a blush of embarrassment and anger appearing on the Megumi's cheeks. "The most obnoxious... and the bravest brat in the world. But I know you're better and smarter than me," Gojo didn't need to look at you directly. It was enough for him to catch a glimpse of the blue sheen of your dress - it reminded him that you had a hand in raising the girl. "And you will never leave Megumi, especially when he needs you the most. If I was never sure of that before," Gojo stammered, for the persistent and unshakeable conviction of the short-term and fleeting nature of the sorcerer's life had begun to sway, wobbling and breaking his inner foundations - it became so hard to speak that the words almost trembled. "What I can say for sure now is that you will live long, and if you are lucky, you will live happily," Gojo he flushed a little, realizing that now everyone could reproach him with his own words about power and loneliness as interconnected things. "I see what you've become, and wanna think that I have some credit for it, but now I wanna take back what I once foolishly said to you. I hope that when you become stronger than me, you will leave at least a corner in your life for your teacher. It can be small and modest, I'm not picky. Megumi, Daniel. I know you're tired of accepting congratulations, but I want to congratulate you on the fact that even our cursed fate allowed you to find each other," Gojo wouldn't be Gojo if he didn't take the opportunity to look around slyly and without noticing Frank, he cheered. "Also, I'll be the godfather!"      

You didn't even hear the cheers of applause - you sat there, glaring at the table and, without realizing it, gnawing your thumb. "And now, friends, I'd like to raise the first toast," the sorcerer said cheerfully, raising his glass higher - all the guests unknowingly repeated after him. You didn't catch a word of what Gojo was saying - only his blurred movements told you the beginning of the end. Your heart was tearing all premonitions with its pounding, making you gnaw harder and harder into your own flesh. "To the union of the two hunters!" 

There was a second's silence after everyone repeated the last phrase in unison. You saw Gojo put down his glass without taking a drink. There was a clatter of cutlery on the left. On the right, you heard the clinking of broken crystal. You didn't even feel a hand on your shoulder; slowly you looked up through the painful haze and saw everyone, almost everyone, clutching at their throats. 

You didn't feel your finger bleeding. You didn't feel the nail plate gnawed through to the meat. The swords in your body twisted, making you forget about the external pain. The creatures coughed and grabbed at the white tablecloths, and silverware flew to the floor along with the unfinished dinner. With a ragged sigh, you leisurely turned your head to the right, where Rosalie was sitting. It was like she was waiting for you to pay attention to her. The woman saw your cold, doomed look, and she shook her glass of untouched wine happily, winking at you with dark eyes.

Defeat had no taste. Pain had no color. Regret didn't know how to burn, scorching your soul. Everything you had ever known had disowned you, and you felt no hands, no legs, no presence in the world.

You were shaken lightly by the shoulder, and you found the strength to turn your head slowly and look Gojo dead in the eye. "Run," you whispered softly before the ground shook. 

A purple flash burned away all grief. For a moment you thought you were dead, but the heat of the ground your body was pressed against protested as fluttering purple flames slid across your skin. Unconscious, you tried to get up, but your body was pinned down by something heavy, preventing you from breathing. As soon as you made any attempt to move, there was a ringing in your ears. You felt multiple feet pressing you harder into the ash and dirt, but you couldn't find the strength to resist. Screams in the distance, like lost souls begging for deliverance or mercy - you smiled, thinking that they might have just been voices in your head. You didn't even struggle when someone's hands closed around your neck - you just collapsed, unable to move a finger.

Suddenly, the grip was gone - you wheezed, shuddering. Your sluggish body was released from the pile of beams and picked up, bringing you to your feet. "Baby," Gojo whispered anxiously, fussily brushing strands of hair away from your face - the butterflies had long since broken off and died. It was like he'd dug you up straight from the grave - the sorcerer sobbed painfully at the sight of your pale face and the extinguished gaze that stared at one point. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay, we just need to get out of here." 

Your airways were clogged with fumes, and you couldn't see anything in front of you, dead bodies falling at your feet, but Gojo had his arm around your waist and was trying to look around. His strength really did lie in his loneliness at times, as he grimaced and realized with panic that he couldn't snap his fingers and change the foreign purple color to his own. Only immaculate blue eyes helped him find others in the smoke - the sorcerer dragged you towards the stream of cursed energy. "Megumi!" he shouted, seeing the boy fidgeting around, trying to look for anyone, but Danielle was nowhere near him. "Where's Dany?" 

"I relocated her home," he shouted back, coughing. "Where are the others?"

Gojo looked around frantically, squinting his watery eyes, the smoke cutting them like a knife. He darted down the trail, holding you up, and Megumi ran after him - meeting Yuji and Yuta, he raked them both by the scruff of the neck without a word. "Look for the others. Megumi, can you move a few people?"  

You couldn't hear the screams, but the faint, sweet smell of fried flesh hit your nose. Someone grabbed your arm with such force that it almost broke your wrist, and you saw the severed head of a man with black eyes at your feet. The beautiful face was contorted with anger - Gojo was panting in spite of the poisonous smoke. But none of them were killing demons. They were just giving them an excuse to take possession of more human bodies. "Tris... Frank...," you mumbled sluggishly, looking up at the house on the hill that was blazing purple fire - your once home was burning before your eyes. You slipped out of Gojo's grip on your wobbly legs and waddled over to the other side, holding the hem of your burnt dress.  

"Take everyone out," Gojo said, squeezing Megumi's shoulder and looking into his eyes. "I'll be right back," the boy nodded briefly and, grabbing his friends under his arms, disappeared from sight momentarily. But only to return again.

You saw golden hair developing on the horizon, and you sped up, ignoring Gojo's grip on your arm, and approached the figure. It wasn't a mirage at all. "Nathaniel?" you wondered in relief, grabbing the man's shoulder. When you turned him around, he was staring blankly at the floor, a bloody hole in his throat. The sorcerer, clinging to ypu more tightly, dragged you towards the house - you only saw the higher-up fall to his knees and then to the ground. Gojo had better not have dragged you forward so soon, for this time it was you who had to kneel.  

A familiar, lifeless face stared back at you from under the beams. "Axel?" you asked weakly, still hoping for an answer. Wrenching your arm free, you ran over to a pile of smoldering wood, and with your bare hands began digging up the body - you sobbed harder and harder, unable to feel the burns. "Ryan?" you whimpered, getting to the truth. Your two students were in the arms of your foe - Camila was lying straight on top of the breathless boys, never protecting them.

"Mochi, please, let's go," Gojo pleaded in a broken voice as you tried to rouse any of them. You desperately stroked their dead, burned faces, barely touching them for fear of waking them, and all he could do was cover your eyes with his palm. "It's okay," the sorcerer realized you needed time, but he couldn't give it to you. Clenching his teeth, Gojo wrapped his arms around your shuddering body at the waist and pulled you off the ground, dragging you back up the hill despite your silent protests. "We need to go..."   

You lost your senses and just went wherever you were led. You didn't even wonder if Gojo was the enemy; you didn't care if you were being torn apart. Had you been bringing demons into the town all this time? Was it all your doing? Was the hell that unfolded on the town's land only because you had once opened a way into someone else's? 

All of them were laughing, laughing so loudly that their sudden crying made you clutch your head - the machinations of common sense, which was gradually going mad, made you see the smiling faces of those who had been eating, drinking and dancing an hour before. They stood motionless, neither asking you for anything, nor reaching out to grasp your hand, all of them instantly turned to ashes that snowed on your head.

The heat on your skin grew brighter and clearer as you climbed the hill and stood near the burning house. The wood crackled, burning - you stared blankly as a beam fell to the ground. You flinched as the hem of your dress was tugged hesitantly. "Mike?" you exhaled convulsively, seeing his eyes full of incomprehension and horror. The boy's suit was torn and burnt, and his face and red hair were all sooty, but Mike himself seemed to be unharmed. "Mike," you exhaled, scooping the boy up in your arms and burrowing into his neck.

"Take him home, okay?" asked Gojo softly. "I'll go get Frank and Tris," you nodded, not taking your eyes off the boy. You frantically stroked his back, your hands feeling his warmth and a lively shiver.

"Relocate."

You sat a dazed Mike down on the dining room table - the kitchen and living room were already rushing with Doc and Shoko, trying to see everyone as quickly as possible. You kissed the redhead's top relentlessly, clutching your hands to the small shoulders. It was your sister's job to do that. But she wasn't here.

With a sob, you pulled away from Mike and glanced around at everyone present. Perhaps Megumi was right when he said that Gojo had been very lucky - luck was on his side right now. All of his students were here - terrified, dirty, with burns on their faces and limbs, but they were all breathing. And of yours, only Danielle was left.

"How's Megumi?" she asked on the verge of breaking down, running up to you - her beautiful white dress was stained with blood and soot.

"He's fine," you said, wiping your nose. "He'll be back soon," you nodded, not looking the girl in the eyes. "And so am I... I'll be back soon too."

"Relocate."

You were back in front of the charred door you hadn't dared enter a few minutes ago. You stood there, clutching and unclutching the folds of your skirt. If only they'd survived, they'd be long gone from that house - so there was no point in going in. A quiet cry escaped your lips - you hadn't seen them in the cliff house with everyone else.

Like a drowned woman, you paced the bottom of the lake, heavy stones tied to your feet. The light left on the surface of the water did not penetrate and warm you in the depths of clammy, nightmarish fear - you could barely move your feet, tangling in the mud and sinking in the sand. The cold water pushed you from side to side, filling your lungs - you could not even cough, for you were already dead.

Gojo was roused from his stupor by the sound of the charred door opening and your slow footsteps behind him. "What's in there?" you whispered quietly in a voice that foreshadowed that you already knew everything. "Satoru, what's in there... What's in there?" you rambled on the verge of breaking down, and his heart skipped a beat as you sped up - the sorcerer turned around abruptly and grabbed you, and before you could see the bitterness and sorrow in his eyes, he clutched your head to his chest and turned around again, letting you never come face to face with it - your back and his eyes witnessing the bloody tragedy. "What is it?" you whimpered, hitting his chest weakly with your fist.  

Gojo was frantically stroking your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head, tears in his eyes. Frank, sitting listlessly on the floor with his back against the wall, was still cradling the small body against you "Nothing," he lied, shaking his head frantically. The man's lowered glassy gaze from under half-closed eyelids was no longer friendly or stern. Tiny drops of blood fell from the corner of his lips, sizzling and vaporizing as they made contact with the hot floor. Two hearts, large and small, were pierced by a single blade - it protruded from their lifeless bodies. Realizing they had been killed before the toast had even been spoken, Gojo, choking on your sobs, backed away. "There's no one here," a quivering grin contorted his lips, and he shook his head, looking at Frank and Tris one last time. "There's no one here," the sorcerer repeated, closing the doors of the house on the hill behind you forever. 

Gojo led you back slowly, trying not to think about the people you'd left behind, dead or alive - he needed to get to Megumi. You weaved obediently beside him, and he was only more alarmed when he didn't see any black lines or dark eyes - you'd rather be mad than so empty. But as soon as you were at the foot of the hill, you pulled your arm out.   

Your wobbly gait was gone, and you stepped firmly forward, clearing a path. Offset after offset - dead bodies, burned wood, stones, roofs flew sideways, and the farther you moved, the more your actions became frantic, disorderly. The dead, burning town was no longer resisting - there was nothing else here but purple tongues of flame. No howls, no screams, no restless running. Only the cinders continued to walk in this silence. "Megumi?" the sorcerer asked puzzled, seeing a black hair, but not a shred of cursed energy emanated from that person. Someone was digging in the dirt, trying to get either a dead or half-dead person.  

"Issu," you said coldly, coming up from behind. He gave you a glimpse and continued raking the path. "Take your brother and get out of here."

"What about the rest of the people?" protested the boy, unable to tear his hands away from the unfamiliar face he had almost reached.

"Issu, come to your senses!" you barked, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and setting him on his feet. "There are no more people here," you muttered mournfully, giving the boy time to realize what was happening. Issu, lowering his gaze to the floor, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. He felt the same way you did. All these people, all these familiar faces you brought out, were no longer human. Or had never been human at all. The boy nodded briefly and headed toward one of the surviving houses - you could just see him picking up his little brother, who had jumped out of the window, in his arms.

"We all need to get out of here," wheezed a voice behind you. Gojo turned around and faced Fushiguro. He was dragging the unconscious Nobara on his back, crouching under her weight. 

What an abomination a stopped heart could be - it stopped pumping blood, and you, standing in the midst of human ashes, felt the merciless cold. You kept looking in the direction where the road of life had once been - no one would ever set foot on it again, desires were buried with their persons. "Mochi?" Gojo turned to you uncertainly, ready to lead you away. From here, you could not see the rock from which the deepest dreams of the people who had once lost them in the cold wasteland soared once a year. You nodded briefly, realizing that the dead Hopetown would never say goodbye to you - you couldn't even see the ghost of the paper plane. 

[May 23, 2023, 11:31pm; hunters' hq]

You immediately disappeared behind the bathroom doors of your workroom without going upstairs. You were ashamed to look them in the eye, and you were afraid that you would never see some of the judgmental eyes. Having never seen Frank and Tris dead, they were still alive for you in the back of your mind, and you forcefully held yourself in place so as not to return to Hopetown. You ripped off your dress with a jerk, determined to bury it - it rattled and ripped, and you whimpered and began shoving it zealously into the bucket. You pressed and tamped down the unruly fabric that tried to climb back out, its burnt folds bringing you back to the events of the dead town.

You kicked the bucket to the side, and with a loud thud, the bucket flew off the wall and collapsed, the dress slipping out of it, sprawling on the floor. With a jerk, you opened the dresser and pulled out the first one you could find. Pulling on a gray T-shirt and pants, you walked over to the sink and opened the faucet to full power, your hands shaking as you saw the black lines appearing.

There was a quiet, insistent knock at the door. "Mochi?" called out Gojo quietly. "May I come in?"

"No!" you bellowed, snapping out. Clenching your hands into fists to the point of pain and panting superficially, you looked cowardly at the door. "I'm sorry," you exhaled. "I really... I really need to be alone. For a couple minutes. Gimme a couple minutes."

"How can I leave you like this?" grinned the sorcerer wistfully, jerking the knob weakly without hope. His forehead was against the door, and he was thinking about what might have happened to you all alone - you never stuttered or mentioned anything like that, you seemed to love life with all your actions and words, but now there was only your broken shadow in front of him.

"Ya'd better tell me, is there somewhere we can crash?" you asked muffled, changing the subject. "We can't stay in this house."

Gojo frowned and thought of the never-restored Tokyo college, but something else, something similar, came to mind. "Kyoto college will do?" 

"Yeah," you answered without thinking. "Ya should... Ya tell the others for now and help them pack. And I'll be out in a bit. Really."

You heard him scrape hesitantly at the door, and then a couple of quiet taps on it before the sorcerer backed away. His hesitant footsteps sounded through the pouring water - Gojo stepped from foot to foot, and though he stepped farther back, he never turned his back. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'll break down the door," he warned you before leaving the workroom. 

Barely stopped feeling his presence, you looked at yourself in the mirror. "What are ya looking at, bitch?" you sobbed, staring into the dark eyes. "Why didn't ya... Why didn't ya warn me?" you ran your hands restlessly through your black strands, desperately hoping to wash away the black color from them, but it remained stubborn and unyielding. You dipped your hands under the stream of water and began to frantically wash the soot and blood off them. "Or you can only yell when ya hungry?" you hissed, grabbing the edges of the sink as it cracked and you could only watch as the water ran away from you. Your whole body shuddered, though you felt no pain, and you slammed your fist into your own reflection, and it shattered into large shards. "Ya're no use to me," you whimpered, washing your bloody hands. Bending down and taking water in your palms, you leaned them against your face and wiped it – you didn't want to know if you were really crying.

It was time to keep your promise - you wiped your face with a towel and left the workroom for the kitchen. When you entered the corridor, you heard the hurried, frantic running on the second floor - almost no one was talking to each other, and if they did, they were very quiet. In the midst of this deafening confusion stood out a gentle lullaby that your sister was humming. When you entered the kitchen, you saw her sitting at the dining table, cradling her half-sleeping son. You walked carefully around the table and sat down across from Rachel. She didn't even look at you, just kept rocking Mike, humming softly to herself.

"Where have ya been?" you asked blankly. You watched absently as your sister, chuckling merrily, rose from her seat and walked over to the couch to lay your son down. She continued to stand behind you, and you felt neither threatened nor dead, only doomed.

"Have you ever wondered how we let this happen?" she asked sympathetically, walking past you. "Maybe we shouldn't have encroached on their territory, much less destroyed it," Rachel, stopping in the hallway, turned around - you didn't dare look up. You didn't want to see the green eyes or the red hair again, for it was all a deception. While he laughed your sister's ringing laugh, you were dying. "But now you know how we felt, liebe," Rei cooed, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. 

next ⊳

[love-toxin]

Miss Ellie, may I humbly request Tsung with the Stuck VII prompt? 👉👈 Cannae stop thinking abt a mean girl darling sitting on his dick while he’s trying to focus n’ read for his classes. <3

YES!! YOU MAY <33 !!! ugh i love mean readers <33

VII - "Don't you dare make a mess."

(cws: fem!bully!darling, unprotected sex, name-calling, established relationship, semi-public sex, pussydrunk tsung, jealousy, possessiveness)

“Dumbshit,” You hissed, leering at him over his shoulder. That wasn't true at all–most of your insults were, but not that. Tsung was pathetic, small, and spineless, but he wasn't stupid. He just acted like it whenever you were there to give him a hard time. 

The kid squirmed in his seat; ‘kid’, you couldn't stop calling him that, even though he wasn't much younger than you were. Tsung didn't even flinch at your insults anymore, only when you threatened to hit him. As you circled around the library desk, his eyes darted away from the notebooks scattered in front of him to watch your pointed nails scrape over the glazed wood. As they scaled his thin arm, the pale skin exposed beyond the sleeves of his white button-up, he finally shuddered at the light, pink scratches you left behind. Your mark. His pen trembled in his hand and left blue ink trails over what he'd written from his textbook. 

“Tryin’ not to fail?” You questioned him numbly, barely letting slip the hold you had on your stern expression, like you were his teacher evaluating his progress. Tsung just trembled in his seat. “Answer me, dumbshit.” You shoved at his head, just to make him think a little bit while he sat there like a pet store goldfish in a bag. He mumbled something into his hand and you urged him to speak up.

“Chemistry,” His voice squeaked somewhat, not helped by the fact that he was actively avoiding looking you in the eyes, like you were a predator that would pounce at the first sign of contest. “I'm r-reviewing chemistry…just making sure I'm ahead.” 

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Shit's hard. You're gonna fail no matter what-” 

“I'm not going to fail.” He snapped back. Oh, now he was looking at you, and those red eyes were stern for only a second before he remembered his place, and turned back to his notes. Sore spot. Perfect for digging in. 

“Twat.” With a huff, you stepped around him and yanked his hair on the way by, jerking his head back an inch. Yet he still went back to studying like it didn't even hurt. “When's your dick available? When you're not sucking off the prof for those As, that is.” You tugged on his ear, and Tsung's squirming and flushed cheeks returned at full force as he squeaked. 

“I-I can't do it today. And I don't d-do that-” 

“Don't give a fuck.” You hauled yourself up on the table and sat by his notes, your feet barely brushing the ground as your legs dangled over the edge. No doubt he could see up your skirt from this angle, and knowing this perv, you were shocked he didn't just give up the act at once and shove his face under there. “Take it out.” 

You watched him huff, and glance around, before picking his pen back up and scribbling something into the margins of his notebook. “I-I don't…have any, um…”

“Condoms?” You tilted your head, only to kick his seat out of annoyance when he nodded meekly. “Fucker. You wanna trap me? That your plan? Fuckin’ asshole.” You growled down at him. He shook his head, but that wasn't nearly enough to sate you. You kicked at his leg this time, and finally, he obeyed–the soft zzzzip echoing through the otherwise quiet library. 

“How pathetic is that?” You murmured, zeroing in on the half-soft, pale knob of flesh that was already rosy and beading at the tip as he pulled it out. Tsung knew not to stroke it, but he didn't even need to; it was growing on its own, stiffening at the cool air and your attention fixated on it. “Don't hafta touch that thing for it to stand up.” 

“I-It…likes…you.” He admitted shamefully, yet he didn't tear his gaze away and try to hide as he often would. As much as you mocked his third limb, there was little you could do to restrict your fascination with it. Even though Tsung was a deplorable freak…well, so were you. 

“Rub it, freak.” You narrowed your eyes down at him. “I know you want to.” 

“Not here,” He whimpered, but hovered his hand over his lap anyways. Aside from one other person at a table several aisles away–a boy in a huge sweater with headphones over his short, black hair–it was just the two of you in sight. You waited, and he hesitated, and finally you couldn't take it any more. With your skirt flipped up to boast a pair of new, lacy panties, you slid off the table and down into his lap, where one brush of his engorged tip against you revealed that they were indeed crotchless, just like he suspected. Tsung's breath hitched and his head hung back over his chair, struggling to keep his hands gripping the arms for support as you eased yourself on to his frustratingly addictive length. The curls of his dark pubes kissed your clit, as if welcoming you on to your throne with a delightful tickle. 

It pissed you off to see him in so much bliss from something so simple. None of the other guys you'd ever fucked would melt like this, crumble under you at just the feeling of slipping inside, nor would they cling to you like Tsung did as if every time was as intense as the first. 

“Mmh–like that, idiot?” You mewled softly against his ear, with your teeth just barely grazing the flushed skin. “No condom, no nothin’. Don't you dare make a mess.” 

“I-I ca-can't-”

“Shut up.” Your hips swished wetly against his own as you readjusted. “Do your homework.” 

“N-Need to-” He swallowed meekly, sweat dripping down his neck. “Wanna hump y-” 

“Then do it, mutt.” You shushed in his ear. “Hump me. And don't take your fuckin’ eyes off these chem notes while you do it.” Reaching behind yourself, you fumbled for his pen and plucked it off his notebook, shoving it into his hand before you pulled him into a stuffy, tight embrace. Sitting chest-to-chest, his cock twitching inside your snugly-fitting walls, it almost felt like coming home. Not that you'd ever tell this little stalker that. 

Tsung's nails bit into your waist as he trembled insistently, the tip of his pen scratching the paper erratically as he tried to write something, anything down. It really had you dripping when you listened to him mumbling to himself, reciting some science mumbo-jumbo jargon under his breath like the stupidly smart fucking nerd he was. Being a dork, a creep, and having a nice dick didn't seem fair at all. 

“You're actually studying,” Your grin against his cheek made him stiffen with your comment, though his cock kept spasming with heat despite himself. “Cocky twerp.” 

“Quiet,” He gasped through his teeth. “Can't focus.” The fucking nerve of this kid! You could just grab his scrawny little throat and-!

“Ah-!” Tsung tore a sweet, fluttering moan out of your throat as he bucked, one hand steadying your lower back while the other attended to his diligent note-taking. He slowly bounced you on his lap like he was carefully swirling a glass of wine, needy for your warmth but cognizant enough to not spill over too fast. 

“I love you,” He whimpered with his eyes squeezed shut, clearly lost in the moment. “I love you, I love you-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” You hissed back, though the plapping of his nuts on your backside wasn't at all helping the matter. “Just stroke your gross dick off and keep your mouth shut!” 

“Love this pussy,” He kept babbling, nearly incoherent as he pushed you up against the table. “Need it, need more, gimme more-” The thump of his textbook sliding off and hitting the floor gave you pause, but the lone student's head didn't even turn, and Tsung kept backing you up until you were sprawled out on top of his study materials and notes, his eyes rolling back in his head. “More-” 

“Tsung!” You squirmed in his hold, only to be pinned down by his shoulders sinking into yours, his knee propped up on the table for leverage as he thrusted like he wanted to break you over it. Drooling into your open mouth, Tsung licked your tongue in a sloppy kiss, forcing your head back with the pressure of his lips. 

From further down the library corridor, you caught the sound of doors opening and closing, peppered by the boisterous laughter of some frat guys approaching the main lobby. If they only stepped inside, and came around the corner, they would…

You gritted your teeth, yanked his head back, and looked into those scarlet-red eyes that begged you not to make him stop. “This dick is mine, get it? All fuckin’ mine.” You growled a hair's breadth from his lips. “Stick it anywhere else and I'll cut the goddamn thing off.” 

Tsung's mouth split into an exhausted, yet borderline delusional grin. Ignorant to the noises growing closer outside, his expression flashed with a twinge of fury when you dared to turn your head towards the sound–Tsung’s cold fingers clamped down on your jaw and he forced you back to look at him, eyes aflame with jealousy like he wasn't already gliding his cock through your slick-soaked folds. As if he hadn't already roped you in with his dorky, psychotic charm and hooked you on his dick like you were starved for it. Only when you were looking at him did he feel whole, and could manage to smile again. 

“I named my fleshlight after you, y'know.”

“Gross.” You rolled your eyes, struggling against him as you teetered between cumming and keeping it at bay. 

“I taped your photo to it, and I cum in it every day.” 

“Ew!” You shoved his chest, only for him to steal an especially wet kiss from you. “Fucking psycho. Get help.” Tsung aimed his hips and plunged them downwards in a sudden frenzy, clearly chasing his end as his cock twitched like it was itching to cum inside you. Chants of I love you, I love you, I love you whispered in a whiny tone against your lips, each plap plap plap ringing out in the dull silence of the library. 

Then, finally, Tsung stilled. His fingers frantically rubbed at your clit and he eased off to give himself space to reach it, but he couldn't get too far–no, you leg-locked him before he could, just to make it even more impossible for him not to cry out as he slumped against you, and shuddered through an unfathomably strong orgasm. 

Ugh, this was a mistake, you thought as you tipped over the edge yourself, and squirmed beneath his weight with a restless heat finally popping into a wave of blissful, spine-arching pleasure between your legs. Tsung just couldn't get close enough as he fought to squeeze your thumping chest to his, and let your juices run freely down his lap and splatter all over his precious notes beneath the two of you, peppered with a few drops of his pearly, sticky cum. 

By the time the front doors squeaked open to let the newcomers in, Tsung had already pulled you back down in his lap and given you one last squeeze. He tugged your skirt over your legs, kissed your cheek, and helped you slide into the seat beside him just as the rowdy frat guys entered the table area and took their seats barely a few feet away. While you sat and caught your breath, the one student that had remained during your romp gathered his things up and quickly scurried away like a skittish little bunny. You heaved a soft sigh, and Tsung merely cleared his throat as he tilted his flushed face down, and went back to studying like nothing had happened. 

But you watched him click his pen anxiously, tap his foot under the table, and chew his lip–and when he glanced back over at you, and broke into the biggest, silent grin as your willing conspirator, you shoved his elbow with a scoff that wasn't quite strong enough to dim his mood. 

Fucking loser. You thought to yourself, while you felt his seed leak between your thighs and puddle in the dip of your skirt beneath you.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

just got through a 4 hour video essay on shipwrecked 64 um. might be slightly regretting that rn cause its 3 am and i have to sleep but. 10/10, banger fucking horror game/arg. so fucking cool.

[sukunas-wife]

Being Sukuna’s Pregnant Wife and being worshipped as a diety because you were able to conceive the four armed hulking cursed child, you must have the blessing of fertility

Having a shrine erected in your name because barren women believed you’d bless them with fertility despite your legacy starting with the child of the curse that torments them all

Telling your hand maids “Don’t bring me my clothes, bring me one of the kings robes.” The hand maids flinching and wanting to protest out of fear of taking the King of Curses robes

The poor naive young hand maid that had grown a crush on the king excitedly rushing if it meant she could enter the private bed chambers,

Scoffing with a malicious smile to your loyal maids when they shook their heads with Sympathy, they learned long before at such a request it would be foolish to go alone, at least 2 or 3 of them would need to go in your name, preferably the ones your husband recognized to be by your side the longest. But you didn’t like this new girl, she was too enthusiastic to work at the palace only to have a complete change in character when she learned she was assigned to work for you

“It’ll serve that poor girl right” you looked away from the door when your loyal hand maids brought out a wooden box with one of Sukuna’s folded Kimono’s they helped you dress your swollen belly accentuated by the belt the kimono tailored to fit your husband left you with extra space and length, it was far more comfortable then the Kimono’s and robes you were, the lingering smell of your husband with comforting as your rubbed your belly hands barely peeking from the massive sleeves

“Let’s go see my husband.” Was all you said as you started your walk, the maids followed close as you made it to the bed chambers, the door was open, you looked in, Sukuna sneering down at the girl laying in a pool of blood, Uraume was making quick work of the mess

Sukuna’s snapped to you and his arm’s opening in an unusual display of affection, you walked around the mess to reach him, he pulled you into his left side, one hand on your waist the other making you face him, bring his right hand up he rested his hand on your stomach “Some of your maids need a lesson on how to speak to their king,” he looked away from your face to your stomach as he started to move his hands in circles “So swollen with my child, it’s no wonder you send your maids to steal my robes.”

You smack his shoulder with a playful smile and he chuckled “Don’t say it like that you make me feel bigger than i am.”

“Now,” he looked up at your face again, “why are you here.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I started contractions this morning, I’ve been in pain all day and I’m barely standing, my new maid wouldn’t stop speaking so highly of my husband accomplishing having a child when I was at my worst pain level getting ready to push out YOUR child that I HAD to carry. Anyhow I came to get you because he is ready to come.”

Sukuna stared down at you confused “How do you know it’s a boy?”

“I’m his mother,” he watched as you placed your hand over his stilling his rubbing of your stomach, “I knew he was a boy from the day your seed took.”

Sukuna smirked “Is that so? Then let’s see this boy.”

🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤❤️❤️❤️🖤

After an hour of fighting the doctor tending to your birth you gave birth to your lively son, born screaming without needing stimulation to cry form the doctor. Your husband couldn’t help but laugh when he saw his child in his full glory, he was a boy indeed.

The help immediately gave you your son and you cooed at him when he took to your breast, your husband taking blankets from the maids and covered your son also covering you in the process as you struggled a bit to pass what came next. Your son a spitting image of his father, your breathy laugh caught Sukuna’s attention as he came back to your bed side stroking your hair and rubbing your stomach the way the help had been doing.

“What amuses you?” He watched his son slowly close his eyes as you coddled him closer.

“I’m the one who had to carry him for so long, and the ingrate took nothing from me.” You smiled and shook your head before looking up at Sukuna.

Soon the doctor left after clearing you of any possible issues and checking your son. “His name?” You looked at Sukuna and he sighed “Yuji”

The look of adoration in your eyes was something Sukuna would’ve wanted to capture forever if he could express the sentiment. However for now he’d settle for memorizing every detail of today. His wife birthing his first heir, the name she had chosen he permitted.

Maybe just maybe this world wasn’t so bad

[domjaehyun]

under the influence (l.dh)

PAIRING ▸ stoner!haechan x fem!reader WORD COUNT ▸ 11.6k WARNINGS ▸ a hint of dubcon (she’s timid but very much likes the attention), pervy!dom!haechan, shy!sub!reader, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, finger sucking, oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play (receiving), marking, some cum eating, spit play, groping in public, panty stealing & sniffing PLAYLIST ▸ FYS - john concepcion, sweet release - kevin ross NOTES ▸ hii i hope you enjoy! any and all positive feedback is greatly appreciated, so send me an ask if you liked it or let me know in the tags pretty please :) 

As you press the button to call the elevator, you start to get the jitters. They start in your fingertips and travel up your arms to the back of your neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end, and you shudder slightly, shaking your head in an attempt to do away with the sensation.

The doors open with a ding, and you jump at the sound, making Yeri look over at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worries, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly and vigorously to be convincing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a frown, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Nothing!” you insist.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Karina reminds you, and your frown deepens. “But if you say so, I guess.” 

Relieved, you follow Yeri and Karina into the elevator and lean into the back corner of the shaft, resting your back against where the two walls meet. 

“We should watch a movie today,” Karina suggests excitedly, and she and Yeri fall into a discussion that you would join if you weren’t busy thinking about Haechan and whatever stunts he’s going to pull today. 

It takes three calls of your name from Karina and a vigorous shake from Yeri to snap you out of it, and you look at them sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Girl, where do you keep going? Every time I look over at you, you’re in la-la land.” Yeri asks, concerned and amused.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” you mumble.

“We know that,” Yeri says with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. “Thinking about what, hm?” she presses, and you balk.

“She’s probably thinking about Haechan and what stunts he’s gonna pull today.” Karina supposes, and you frown, upset you’ve been caught.

In your defense, Haechan is always up to shenanigans when you’re around; he pulls at your skirt to fluster you, plays with your hair to get your attention, strokes under your chin just to watch your eyes glaze over—you name it, he’s either done it or is probably thinking about it.

You can’t honestly say his advances are unwelcome because, well, you’ve had a crush on him for the past six months. But something about him is so intense, so jarringly locked in, that it makes you hesitate, and being the object of his full and undivided attention never fails to make you the shyest version of yourself, and you manage to make a fool of yourself almost every single time you get around him, and you have no idea how you’re going to deal with his antics today. 

“Girl.” Karina’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain and you blink hard, focusing on your friend’s concerned expression. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I’m here, for real.”

As the bell dings and the doors open, the three of you file out of the elevator, walking towards the end of the hall to your destination.

“If you need help with him, let us know. We can make up a code word!” Karina suggests helpfully, and you smile, endeared by your friend’s attempt to calm your nerves.

“What should it be?” you wonder, and she screws her face up thoughtfully.

“Blinker.” Yeri answers, and you both turn to look at her. “It should be blinker. Like, if he’s getting too close and you can’t handle it, you can just say you kinda wanna try hitting a blinker or something like that.”

“The last time I hit a blinker, I coughed for ten minutes straight and it was the most painful experience of my life.” Karina recalls, grimacing at the memory. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Yeri says, smiling reassuringly at you before the three of you stop in front of the apartment door. Without a second thought, Yeri knocks three times on the door, stepping back to where you two are standing and waits with you for someone to open the door.

It opens a moment later to reveal Haechan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding the door, and you wonder how such a simple stance has you short of breath.

He looks at Karina and Yeri, smiling pleasantly, before he locks eyes with you. Slowly wetting his lips, his eyes slowly drag up and down your frame, taking in your outfit and appearance before he meets your gaze once more and drops one eyelid into a flirtatious wink.

“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back to let Karina and Yeri in. When it’s your turn to pass, he moves closer, deliberately blocking part of your way so you have to brush by him to enter, and you’re sure it’s also no coincidence that he’s positioned himself so your chest has to brush against his. You swallow your nerves and continue walking past him, not daring to look back in case he’s looking at you; which, if today is anything like every other day you all hang out, he most certainly is. 

Shutting the door behind you, Haechan follows after the three of you into the living room, but waits, standing, by the chair where Mark sits—for what, you don’t know. You wave hello to Mark in his favorite armchair and Jeno on one end of the couch, who greet you pleasantly and resume their tasks of packing the bong and rolling a joint, respectively. Mildly confused but saying nothing at Haechan’s behavior, you take a seat at the other end of the couch, only for Haechan to move at last, crossing the living room to sit directly next to you.

Your throat dries up at the prospect of being so close to him, and you inhale shakily, wanting desperately to roll your eyes back in your head when you catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests one elbow on his knee and observes you with his cheek in his palm. His expression is nothing short of desiring as he takes in your appearance, your burgundy pleated skirt and short-sleeved cream blouse apparently quite the fascinating little number to him, causing you to shift awkwardly in your seat and self-consciously tug your skirt down a bit.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’m staring at you because you look good,” Haechan compliments, eyeing you appreciatively. “You always look good, though, but today… damn.”

You blink at him, stunned by the flirtatious lilt to his voice, and mumble, “Oh.”

“Oh?” he mimics you, chuckling, and you furrow your brows, frowning at his teasing. His brows lift up as his face brightens with amusement, and he shakes his head slowly with a smile.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he nods, smile widening. 

“You’re so cute.” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes dart around, looking everywhere but at him, but he recaptures your attention when he snickers quietly and you meet his gaze to see he’s no longer looking at your eyes, but your lips, and there’s a distinct longing in his stare that unnerves you and, if you’re honest, piques your curiosity. “Did you make it here okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, eyes shifting back and forth from his eyes to your lap before you give into temptation and look at his lips, regretting it instantly when they quirk up into a smirk as he catches you looking. “The bus was basically empty, and it had heating today.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear,” he muses, running his fingers through his hair, and you attempt to hide the way you swallow thickly at the attractive sight. “We don’t want anyone pressing up against such a pretty girl and trying anything sleazy, right?”

“Um…” you trail off, managing to restrain the reply on the tip of your tongue that Haechan is probably the most likely candidate to press up against you and try something sleazy.

“...Right.” he finishes for you, and you nibble your bottom lip.

“...Right.” you echo, and he grins. 

“So… Do you wanna smoke?” he asks.

“I do,” you confirm shyly, and he smiles slightly, no doubt amused by your nervousness.

“Good girl. Did you wanna hit my pen? It’s pretty strong.” he offers, and you won’t lie—your brain blanks for a minute at the praise, but you’re pretty sure you manage to recover just in time for Haechan not to notice anything.  

“Okay,” you reply hesitantly, and he grins.

“Great—give me one second to get something.” he says before standing up and heading to the back of the apartment to his room. You wait fairly patiently, fingers lightly drumming on your knee as you wait for him to return.

“What’s up?” Mark asks curiously.

“Haechan’s getting something from his room.” you explain, and Mark nods slowly, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Haechan returns from the back of the apartment after a moment with a new cartridge in his hand. You watch with mild fascination as he deftly switches the cartridges in his pen, taking a test pull and holding it in for so much time, you’d swear he’s trying to show off.

When he looks over at you and winks before blowing it out, your suspicions are confirmed. 

“This strain is special,” Haechan murmurs to you, and his eyes drop to your lips as he continues, “it’s a ‘horny’ strain.”

“A horny strain?” you mumble, confused, and he nods with a grin.

“It heightens libido.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want some?”

“That’s not real,” Mark calls out from across the living room, and you crane your head to see him. “There’s no actual science to back that up.”

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No one signed up for your TEDTalk on weed; save it.”

Mark grumbles something about misinformation being the death of society but remains otherwise silent.

Haechan calls your attention back to him with a simple clearing of the throat, and you look back at him to see his gaze heavy-lidded and sultry as he regards you, and you start to wonder if Mark might actually be the misinformed one.

“Want some?” he repeats his question from earlier, and you hesitate, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. “It’s not gonna bite you.” As you shift closer to take the pen from him, he holds it out of your reach with a glint in his eye. “I might, though,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly.

He scans your frame, eyes lingering on your almost outstretched hand, and takes a slow, deep pull from the pen, not holding it in for nearly as long before he’s leaning towards you suddenly, making you yelp and draw back.

“Relax,” he mumbles, some of the smoke slipping from his mouth. He cups your chin in his hand and tugs gently to get you to open your mouth before leaning closer, so close that you fear your lips might touch, leading you to attempt to pull back; however, Haechan’s grip on your chin tightens, a clear sign to stay where you are, and he blows the smoke into your mouth slowly. You’re deeply flustered at first, but your instincts kick in as you inhale the secondhand smoke, holding it in your lungs for a couple of seconds before blowing it back out.

When you’re done exhaling, you expect to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on you hasn’t loosened, the male now studying your lips with an intensity in his gaze that gives you a twinge of anxiety and something else you don’t have it in you to identify. 

“You ever shotgunned before?” he asks softly, and you shake your head as much as his hold on you will allow. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” you mumble meekly. “Can you let me go now?”

He rolls his eyes slowly, lips quirking into a cocky grin as he does just that, releasing your chin and sitting back. “If you say so.”

“Thanks,” you mutter quietly, and he flicks his brows upwards in acknowledgement, gaze scanning you before lingering for a moment by the side of your face. “What is it?”

“You have something in your hair,” he says, gesturing to near your ear. When you fail to retrieve the foreign object, he tsks in dissatisfaction before leaning over and gently removing a single white feather from your hair. “Probably from the pillows.” he explains, the backs of his fingers gently grazing your ear as he pulls back. When you squirm away from his touch slightly, the contact too sensitive and ticklish, Haechan chuckles softly. “Look how nervous I make you.” His fingers return to your ear, gently stroking the shell of your ear, and your face blazes with embarrassment and something else as he hums softly. “Even your ear is hot. Do I make you hot anywhere else?” He drops his hand, fingers lightly skimming your upper thigh, and you just about jump out of your skin, cursing internally when you see the delight in his expression.

“Thanks for getting the feather out of my hair,” you say in a desperate attempt to navigate the conversation elsewhere, but it seems Haechan isn’t quite set on letting you off that easily.

“Oh, come on,” he presses, sitting closer to you and leaning so close you can smell his (delicious) cologne. “Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing right now.”

It is, you think grimly. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“Haechan, leave the poor girl alone,” Karina calls from the other end of the couch, and the momentary waver in Haechan’s attention on you as his eyes dart elsewhere is all you need to scoot further back and smooth your skirt out with a vigorous clearing of your throat.

When Haechan looks back over at you, you’ve thankfully managed to regain a semblance of your composure, your gaze politely but pointedly focused at your hands in your lap.

“Pretty girl, you want another hit of the pen?” Haechan offers, and you think back to the way Haechan clutched your chin earlier to shotgun you, finally shaking your head in refusal. “Okay,” he relents, reaching into his back pocket for something and frowning before pulling out an empty hand. “I have something for you.” he says before standing up and heading back to his room.

He emerges once more with a half of a red gummy cube sticking out of his mouth, sitting back down on the couch and draping his arm over the back so it’s ghosting just over your shoulders. “Bite,” he urges through closed teeth, and you shoot him a wary look. “Bite,” he stresses, and you falter, not sure if you should.

“Is it an edible?” you ask cautiously, and he rolls his eyes, an amused chuckle leaving him. 

“Yes. Bite.” It’s not a request, and instead of getting huffy about him bossing you around, you’re more surprised than anyone else when you lean in and carefully bite the other end of the gummy, tugging your half away from his mouth before chewing it. It’s sweet and sugary, but there’s a definite strong aftertaste, a tongue-drying, almost numbing sensation that reminds you it was more than just a little snack. “See, you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You don’t answer, instead sitting back and pulling out your phone to fire off a quick text to your group chat consisting of the two girls sitting a little ways away from you and your fourth roommate, Yurin, who usually frequents these hangout sessions but had to pass this time to study for midterms.

you [18:11pm] SOS

you [18:11pm] he keeps being all TOUCHY TOUCHY what do i do?

You set your phone down on the couch face down and stand up, heading to the bathroom to calm your nerves. 

Little do you know, your phone buzzes while you’re gone, Haechan’s curiosity getting the better of him as he flips your phone over. 

Luckily for him, and very unluckily for you, you don’t have a privacy setting on your Messages app notifications, meaning that any incoming texts can be read by any prying eyes, no passcode necessary.

yurin big trouble mister [18:14pm] maybe tell him how you get all TOUCHY TOUCHY with yourself to the thought of him 😁

karina bo bina [18:16pm] god could you be any more crass??

yurin big trouble mister [18:17pm] LMAOOO i couldn’t help it the joke was right there

yeri berry [18:18pm] you’re laughing. our dear friend is about to get consumed by a weed smoking incubus and you’re laughing.

Haechan snorts to himself in amusement, deliberately leaving your phone face-up for your return. You enter the room shortly after, picking up your phone and scrolling through your notifications with a small frown bordering on a grimace.

“What’s got you all upset, pretty?” Haechan asks, feigning curiosity, and you flinch, locking your phone and tossing it in your lap in a panic. “And now you’re jumpy, too? What’s on that phone that’s got you so stressed out, hm?” 

“Nothing,” you answer far too quickly for your liking. 

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Haechan persists, voice lowering in pitch and volume as he moves closer to you, eyes bright with excitement and something else you can’t quite place. “I think there’s something incriminating on that phone.”

“Incriminating?” you mumble, dazed and flustered, and Haechan nods slowly, lips curling into a wolfish grin. 

“Incriminating like… nudes, maybe,” he muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and at the sight of your confused face, shakes his head. “That must not be it. Maybe a message of some sort… from a friend…” You freeze as you realize exactly what’s going on, and Haechan’s grin only widens now that he can tell you know that he knows. “Wonder what you look like when you… how did she put it? ‘Get all touchy touchy with yourself’ to the thought of me.” 

“Haechan,” you murmur, heart rate quickening as you try to think of any possible way out of this conversation. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I think it’s exactly what I think it is.” he counters with a mischievous wiggle of his brows, and you whimper in panic, desire starting to blaze in his eyes at the sound. 

“What were you doing looking at my phone, anyway?” you accuse, cursing to yourself as your voice shakes slightly.

“I’m nosy,” is all he offers in response. “And, oh, please, you wanted me to see that text. You wanted me to know that late at night,” he teases, pulling your hand closest to him away as you squeal and try to cover your ears, “you touch your pretty little pussy,” he forces your hand back down between you two with a chuckle, “and think about me.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” you mumble nervously, and he just laughs.

“You don’t want everyone to know that you’re into me, do you?” he remarks, and you swallow thickly, looking down at your lap. “I’ll keep your little secret. For a price.”

You study him out of the corner of your eye suspiciously. “What price?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning back and draping his arm behind you on the couch. “I’ll let you know.” His voice is teasing but there’s an ominous edge to his voice that makes you gulp.

“Hey, Yeri?” you call, and her attention is on you instantly. “Remember when, um, you hit that blinker earlier? How’s your throat feeling?”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly in understanding and she rubs her throat gingerly, frowning deeply. “It’s still sore. Wanna come get some water with me?”

“Yes,” you accept the offer gratefully and practically spring up from the couch, following after Yeri and ignoring, to the best of your ability, Haechan’s little snicker from behind you.

“You wanna switch seats?” Yeri asks in a low, concerned voice as you two enter the kitchen, and she laughs when you hesitate.

“I mean, I like it, I just… need a quick break.” you mumble, and she nods, pouring herself a glass of water. “Could you guys, um, hear him earlier?”

“No… why?” she scrutinizes you, and you blink, flustered. 

“He saw the group chat texts.” you mutter, and her eyes widen in alarm, setting her glass down a bit too harshly, the loud clink resonating throughout the room.

“I’m gonna kill Yurin.” she hisses.

“Not if I get there first.” you huff, and she snickers. Footsteps sound out from the living room, making their way to the kitchen, and Yeri pauses. “It’s not Haechan,” you assure her. “I think it’s Karina.”

Sure enough, Karina enters the kitchen, and Yeri looks at you in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“I recognize the footsteps.” you explain with a shrug. “Plus, the guys are wearing house slippers and we’re in, like, socks, so it makes a different sound.”

“Okay, little miss super spy.” Yeri teases with a laugh, and you giggle, pushing her playfully. “Have you recovered, you think?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, smiling. “I’m ready to go back out there.”

“What’d I miss?” Karina whines, and Yeri looks at you expectantly.

“Haechan saw the texts about me… at night… that Yurin sent.” you explain carefully, and Karina lets out a loud gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“I’m killing her.” she groans, and you and Yeri chuckle.

“Get in line, girl.” Yeri says, and Karina snorts in amusement.

“You’re gonna be okay if we go back out there, right?” Karina asks worriedly, and you’re briefly overcome with appreciation for your friends.

“I’ll be okay, I’m pretty sure. I’ll just say blinker again if anything goes wrong.” you confirm, nodding resolutely, and the crease between Karina’s brows fades away as she relaxes.

You three make your way back to the living room, fully preparing to sit back down, but thankfully, before Haechan can torment you further, Jeno inadvertently saves your life and whatever’s left of your dignity by standing up from the couch abruptly and clapping his hands together. “I’m hungry. Diner?”

“I would kill for waffles,” Karina agrees, and Mark and Haechan also stand and start to grab their belongings as you all make your way to the door and slip your shoes on. 

As you shuffle between Yeri and Karina for protection and wait as the elevator descends to the indoor garage of the apartment complex, a tickle starts to build in your throat, making you clear it quietly, then more insistently when the sensation persists. 

“You okay?” Haechan asks, hand poised over your back to pat it in assistance, and you nod.

“My throat is just… a little dry,” you mumble, and Haechan nods in understanding, reaching into his jacket and handing you a Blow Pop. “Thanks,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised as you unwrap the lollipop and stick it into your mouth. By the time the doors open on the garage floor, the flavored saliva produced by the sweet treat sitting in your cheek has almost entirely soothed your throat, and you’re feeling significantly better. 

The six of you make your way to where Jeno’s and Haechan’s cars are parked beside each other and stand behind the two cars, silently deliberating amongst yourselves.

“Well, I call shotgun.” Mark calls out, and Jeno unlocks his car, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

“There’s no way all six of us are gonna cram into Jeno’s car,” Yeri remarks incredulously. 

“Yeah, definitely not, because my middle backseat’s seat belt isn’t working and the airbag sensors are fucked up, so it’s a seat belt or nothing in my car.” Jeno laments, and your skin starts to crawl as you realize where this might be heading. 

“So your car only seats four… and there are six of us…” you say slowly, pulling the lollipop from your lips with a muted wet pop that has Haechan eyeing you like a lion about to corner the slowest gazelle of the herd. Usually, there are seven of you, so even if you had to ride with Haechan, there’d be a third body present in the form of the lovably boisterous Yurin.

Curse Yurin’s midterms, and curse Yurin for sending that text, and curse yourself for leaving your phone where Haechan could see, and curse Haechan for being nosy—

“I’ll ride with Haechan,” Karina offers, noticing the way you become more and more quiet as you sink further into your worries. 

“No, you won’t.” Haechan says, leaning against his passenger door. Everyone looks over at him, and he just pushes off of the door, opening it and pointing directly at you. “Get in.”

“Oh, gosh.” you mumble, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed effect making you feel sluggish or you’re really that apprehensive, but you feel a bit like a puppet with sandbags for shoes, your feet hesitantly shuffling, dragging, scuffling towards Haechan’s passenger door.

“It’s an eight-minute drive,” Yeri calls to you sympathetically, and you nod, shooting her a feeble thumbs up that you don’t even believe. “We’ll see you soon!” 

“Yeah,” you croak, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter, and Haechan smiles sweetly at you, baring all his teeth as you sit in his car. He closes the passenger door and crosses over to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in. 

When Haechan finishes settling down into the driver’s seat, checking his mirror views and pulling up the GPS to the diner, he straps himself in and looks over at you, eyes scanning your frame for something—you don’t quite know what. Seemingly done with his inspection, he leans closer to you without warning and reaches for the seat belt buckle in your chair, pulling it out and over your body as he clicks it into place. The whole while, he’s invading your personal space, your breath catching in your throat as you realize his face is close enough to yours that you could probably count his lashes if you wanted to.

He turns his head ever so slightly, eyes locking on yours, and you blink rapidly in alarm, rendered immobile as he studies your face.

“You look so cute, all innocent and helpless like this.” he murmurs softly, and the tiniest of squeaks escapes you, his eyes flashing with glee at the sound. “Now stop looking at me like that,” he warns, “or I’ll kiss you.”

You blanch, trying immediately to make any other expression than the one you didn’t even know you were sporting, and he chuckles before sitting back in his seat and starting his car. He turns the air conditioning on—a strange choice, considering it’s a bit nippy outside—and pulls out of his spot, starting to drive towards the diner.

It doesn’t take long for you to get cold, goosebumps gradually appearing on your arms and legs, but you’re a bit too nervous to say anything, instead suffering in silence. You clasp your hands together in your lap, rubbing them together for warmth, and, as he stops at a red light, Haechan looks over at you, watching in fascination as you shift in your seat for any sort of friction that could warm you. After a moment, you notice his eyes fixated pointedly on your chest, and you spare a glance down to see, to your alarm, that your nipples are hard, starting to poke through your clothing, and you curse internally for wearing a thin, lacy bra that does nothing to conceal your stiffened buds.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, smirking in what seems like satisfaction, before refocusing his attention on the road. You cross your arms over your chest protectively, tucking your fingers into the crooks of your elbows as he drives down the road.

“We’re here,” he announces after some time, pulling into a parking spot in front of the diner and turning the car off. The cold air blowing through the vents shuts off, much to your relief, and you unbuckle your seat belt before he gets the chance, practically flinging yourself out of the car into the significantly less cold night air.

As you all file into the diner, you notice a man staring very pointedly at you and your bare legs and your chest, where your nipples have yet to go down. 

Haechan scans the room, catches sight of the man, and follows his gaze back to where you stand, his jaw clenching.

“Put this on,” Haechan murmurs, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to you. You start to take it, eager for warmth, but pause, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

His gaze flicks over your shoulder at where the man from earlier sits, and understanding dawns on you. “Just—put it on for me?” 

You nod, gratefully accepting the jacket, and Haechan steps closer, draping it over your shoulders and helping you put your arms through the sleeves. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he nods.

“You look cute in my jacket.” he remarks with a small smirk, and your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he trails his tongue along his bottom lip before gesturing for you to follow after him with a jerk of his head, a quick peek past him revealing the hostess who’s arrived to take you all to your seats.

When you arrive at the booth, Haechan’s right by you, gesturing for you to go in first. You do so without complaint, preferring the inner seat anyway, but it’s when Haechan slides in next to you that you realize your mistake as he closes you into the booth corner, the main obstacle between you and freedom from, well, him.

As the hostess passes out menus and you all start to look them over, you feel the side of his hand resting against the side of your thigh, making you attempt to shift away from his hand, the touch too intimate for you to handle at the moment.

Somehow, his hand finds its way back against your leg, palm turned up slightly as he lightly grazes his fingertips along your thigh, and you suck in a sharp breath, doing your best to pass it off as a cough when Haechan looks over at you, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna get the breakfast platter,” Yeri says excitedly. “It comes with pancakes, eggs prepared how you want them, homefries, and your choice of meat.” 

“That sounds so good,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think I want a burger.” 

“Yeah, a burger sounds good,” Haechan agrees, eyes slowly sliding over to study your reaction as he flattens his palm against your leg, slowly sliding it up to caress your upper thigh. Your reaction must be nothing short of rewarding, as you jolt so forcefully that you shake the table slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“You okay, girl?” Karina asks, worried, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“I just, um…felt a tickle on my ankle. Thought it was a bug or something.” you mumble, and she nods, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“I know I said waffles earlier, but I kind of want these barbecue ribs,” Karina says, pointing at an entry on the menu, but you can barely make your gaze focus on where her finger touches the menu because Haechan’s hand is still very much on your thigh, and to make matters worse, you think you like it.

His hand slides up higher, the side of his thumb slipping under the hem of your skirt, and you raise your glass to your lips in an attempt to act natural, hoping and praying no one notices the way your hand is shaking slightly.

Haechan leans in closer to you, murmuring in your ear, “This must be a dream come true for you, huh?” He grips your thigh firmly, not even attempting to play it off as a casual touch anymore, and you barely manage to stifle your yelp of surprise in time. “Must have been wanting this for so long,” he breathes secretively, smiling lips grazing the shell of your ear so subtly, no one else would notice unless they were paying unnaturally close attention.

You, however, do notice. Not only do you notice, but you suck in a sharp breath of surprise, the sudden movement making the water in your cup slosh forward and spill out slightly, a few droplets dripping down your chin.

You suck your teeth in mild irritation, glaring at Haechan as you reach for your napkin, but he’s faster, his free hand coming up and wiping the liquid off of your chin.  

“Um, thanks.” you mumble, and he nods, locking eyes with you as he licks at the pad of his thumb, cleaning off the water droplets with his mouth. “Oh, dear Neptune.” you whisper to yourself, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the moment. “Where is this waitress—I need to eat something.”

“Yeah, we should let her know we’re ready to order,” Mark says, waving a hand out to flag down the waitress. As she approaches, you sneak a peek at Haechan, whose expression is surprisingly calm and neutral given the sensual, slow circles he’s drawing on your upper thigh with his thumb.

Haechan’s hand slips further in between your legs, getting dangerously close to your core, and you decide that’s enough play time for him, clamping your legs together forcefully.

“You trapped my hand, pretty girl,” he points out with a growing grin, and you ignore him even as he continues, “I didn’t know you liked it that much.”

You still don’t give him a response, staring stubbornly out the booth window, and he chuckles before withdrawing his hand from your legs with such ease that you wonder if he was ever really stuck there.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment? Copy that.” he muses, nodding slowly in understanding, and you can’t help but wonder what else he has in store for you.

Today, the energy in the room is entirely different—and you don’t like it one bit.

Haechan won’t even acknowledge you today; his eyes skip over you when he scans the room like you’re not even there, or, worse, he seems to be looking completely through you at times, completely unaffected by your presence.

“Girl, did you piss Haechan off or something?” Yeri whispers to you, and your brows knit together as you shake your head. “He hasn’t made a single move on you all day.”

“I know,” you mutter bitterly.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Karina supplies in an attempt to help, but her words practically fall on deaf ears as you stare burning holes into the side of his face as he laughs at something Mark said.

“I’m about to be sick,” you mumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as your somewhat secret crush that used to be obsessed with you treats you like you’re nothing more than a couch cushion.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but when Haechan gets up and heads towards the kitchen. you find yourself standing to follow, mumbling that you’ll be right back to Karina.

Haechan stands with his back to you at the kitchen island, pouring a can of something—it looks like Monster—into a glass, and you take a moment to admire his slender yet lean build, the curve of his shoulders and the perfectly mussed up state of his hair—

“I know you’re there, you know.” he says calmly, and your eyes widen as you immediately attempt to look busy doing anything other than blatantly ogling him. He turns right when you’ve reached for a bag of Ruffles chips and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You have something you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly thrown off-guard, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I noticed you staring at me,” is all he says in response, and you blanch, pursing your lips carefully.

“Haechan, are you mad at me?” you ask softly, and he smirks.

“And why do you ask that?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt nervously, averting your gaze to look at the granite countertop. “Well, you… haven’t talked to me all night.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a concerningly long time, prompting you to look up at him and immediately wish you hadn’t. He looks beyond smug, and painfully attractive as he leans in slightly, not close enough to get in your space but close enough to send a thrill down your spine. 

“You were giving me the silent treatment the other day, right?” he reminds you, and you hesitate, realizing you were the cause for his radio silence. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Well, don’t.” you say with a frown, and he raises his eyebrows, amused and surprised.

“Why not? Did you miss me or something?” he teases, and you balk, losing all your nerve as quickly as you’d found it.

“No!” you answer quickly, and he arches an eyebrow skeptically, prompting you to continue, “No, I just—”

“You and I don’t really talk much, anyway,” Haechan muses, leaning his back against the island as he regards you with a cocky glint in his eyes. “So what is it you really miss, hm?”

“Well—” you struggle to find your words, and something softens in Haechan’s gaze, the cocky twinkle now accompanied with a smile bordering dangerously on fondness.

“You miss me messing with you, don’t you?” he asks, and at your lack of response, nods in confirmation. “You miss me touching you?” he questions, dragging out the syllables excruciatingly slowly. He sucks his teeth when you still don’t reply and says, “I know you do. You know you do. Now just admit it.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, and he shrugs, raising his hands in surrender.

“You want me to touch you again? Give me what I want.” He sounds dead serious and painfully unwavering on his stance, prompting you to whimper quietly to yourself, too wrapped up in your own nerves to notice the way his eyes darken at the sound of your desperation.

“I want you to touch me.” you mumble shamefully, and his lips quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. 

“Come here; say it again.” he urges, beckoning you closer, and you hesitate, making a challenge flash in his expression before he’s poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek and chuckling. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“I want you,” you say, “to touch me,” you repeat your words from earlier, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

You can see him crossing the distance between you in your peripheral vision, your insides tensing with anticipation as he gets closer and closer. To your utter disappointment, he continues to walk as if he’s going to pass you, only pausing to tilt his head to the side in a patronizing display of faux sympathy.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” he chuckles, not even giving you a chance to respond before he continues his path out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What in the absolute hell did you just get yourself into?

You’re coming back from the bathroom when you quite literally almost run into Haechan in the hallway. 

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side to get past, but he steps to the same side. You laugh awkwardly before stepping to the other side, only for him to do the same, his movements far too calculated to be a mistake, and you come to the realization that he’s intentionally blocking your path. “Haechan?” you ask quietly, nervousness creeping into your voice, and he chuckles.

He takes a step towards you, prompting you to take a cautious one backwards, and his smile widens as he advances on you, slowly but surely herding you back towards the bathroom. When your back hits the nearby wall, your eyes widen, and he mocks you, briefly widening his eyes in faux surprise before flicking his brows up suggestively and placing one hand on the wall by your head on the side you could escape from, successfully trapping you in a makeshift corner. 

“You’re so cute, really.” Haechan sighs, smiling fondly at you, but there’s a devious twinkle in his eye as he regards you.

As he closes in on you, your body is alight with nerves and anticipation, and you decide to try again, feebly calling, “...Haechan?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quiets you soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, baby.” As if to prove his point, he presses his knee between your legs, thigh pressing up against your clothed core, and a poorly restrained moan bubbles up in your throat.

“Haechan—” you whine, and he shoots you a smug smile.

“See, baby? I know you want it. You know I want it. That’s why you always wear these tiny fucking skirts whenever you come over,” he states, hand dropping from your face to tug at the hem of your skirt, and you gasp—both at the sudden yanking and the insistent pressing of his thigh against your core. “You like it when I do this. Bet you were waiting for me to slip my hands under your skirt to touch you.”

“Mm-mm,” you protest, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and grinding wantonly in search of relief, is telling another story, Haechan arching a brow skeptically. 

“Mm, no? You don’t like it? But, wait… what was that you said in the kitchen earlier?” he questions, a taunting lilt to his words. “‘I want you to touch me,’” he echoes your earlier request in a poor imitation of your voice. “Well, I’m touching you, baby—don’t you like it?” When your only reply is a small nod, he shakes his head disapprovingly, gaze darkening. “Words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, breath catching in your throat when he rewards you with a firm upwards press of his thigh into your core. Your movements speed up slightly as you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your abdomen, your climax not far ahead.

“Are you gonna cum just like this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of amusement to his words but it’s almost entirely overtaken by the heavy desire in his voice. 

“Mm-hm,” you whine softly, your desperation peaking as your high gets closer and closer. 

“Beg me to let you cum.” he urges, and you’re already so far gone that your shame is all but done away with.

“Please, Haechan, can I cum?” you pant urgently, a slight pleading quality to your words as you feel the beginnings of your climax, pleasure blooming between your legs in a gush of warmth. “Please?” you whimper, and something in him snaps, Haechan lurching forward and cupping your face in his hands to hold you in place as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tracing along your lower lip as you tremble and moan weakly into his mouth. 

When you move to pull away to breathe, he clutches your face more firmly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring at his leisure, all the while ignoring your muffled, plaintive cries for air. 

“Haechan, I can’t breathe,” you rasp out finally, and he lets you go with a shaky inhale and an unmistakable reluctance. 

“You are so goddamn addicting.” he pants, and his hands drop to your hips, resuming the motions you weren’t aware you’d stopped. “Keep going.”

His hands keep guiding your movements, practically dragging you back and forth on his thigh as he kisses you again. This kiss is messier than the last as he sucks on your tongue and pulls back to trail his lips down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point and sucking hard, a gasp escaping you at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mine,” he grunts against your throat, sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin and sucking there, too, without a doubt leaving some form of mark behind. “All fucking mine.” he repeats, clutching your hips tighter and dragging you up his leg and closer to him, lips parting from your neck with a loud, wet pop and connecting with yours eagerly. “Gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Hae—” you barely get the first syllable of his name out before he’s sealing his mouth over yours again, fingers creeping into the kiss to pry your mouth open.

“Open,” he mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. When you oblige, he taps your tongue impatiently until you let it hang out of your mouth, Haechan sucking in a deep breath as he eyes you appreciatively. Without any warning or preamble, Haechan spits directly onto your tongue, and you whimper, voice cracking slightly. “Swallow. I’m gonna do it again.” You swallow his saliva, the extra moisture in your mouth jarring but not unwelcome, and return to your previous pose of your mouth open with your tongue hanging out. 

He grins and leans in again, hovering over your waiting tongue as he drops a long, clear string of saliva from his puckered lips down to your mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He pulls back from you slightly and pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, the cool silver of his ring catching your taste buds as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, gliding them against your tongue to collect as much wetness as he can. “Good girl,” he coos, pleased, and you’re embarrassed by the rush of warmth between your legs that appears at the praise. “Need them nice and wet for you.”

Not wasting a minute, he snakes his slick, spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear and starts to stroke over your folds, digits gliding amongst your arousal with embarrassing ease. 

“You’re a mess down here,” he remarks, eyes alight with glee and something wild, primal as he teases you. “You like me that much? Hm?” He seems not to need an answer as he grins cockily at you, eyes scanning your face intently to drink in your every reaction to his touch, no matter how small. He trails his fingers up, up, up until he’s brushing the underside of your clit, and you jolt, flinching away. 

“Haechan, that’s sensitive—”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” With the hand not currently in your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours, the back of his hand pressed against the palm of your own, and trails your linked hands down your body to join his other hand in your underwear. “Show me,” he rasps, and you blink at him, too far gone to fully understand exactly what he means. “Show me how you do it when you’re alone—when you think of me.”

Cheeks blazing, you realize you’re in no position to refuse, so you guide his hand into massaging your clit in circles, your abdomen tensing reflexively whenever his fingers graze the sensitive underside of your clit. 

“Talk to me, baby.” he urges gently, and you whine in protest, the fire in your face increasing nearly tenfold. “Wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how you touch your little pussy.”

“I just rub it in circles like this,” you mumble, voice slightly husky with desire, and the shift doesn’t go unnoticed, if the intensifying of Haechan’s gaze means anything. 

“You don’t go inside?” he asks softly, and you shake your head.

“Doesn’t feel good when I do it,” you whimper, and he sucks in air sharply, swearing under his breath as he watches your face twist in pleasure. It’s all too much for you, having his undivided attention on you like this, and you look away, a shudder traveling through your body as another climax approaches.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, and you reluctantly oblige, pleading eyes locking on his as your peak gets closer by the second. “Only look at me.”

“Okay,” you agree, the last syllable coming out like more of a squeak, and he smiles brilliantly, the hand not pleasuring you slipping out of your underwear and lifting your shirt up to reveal your breasts in your thin, lacy light blue bra. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples through the fabric and starts to suck, tongue swirling around the stiffening bud so wetly that his saliva starts to darken the fabric, the warmth of his spit seeping through the fabric. 

He sucks at your nipples with an almost ferocity, alternating breasts like he can’t get enough of either, and his hand snakes around your back to unclasp your bra, Haechan pushing the garment out of the way as soon as it’s loose and latching onto your nipple with a low groan of satisfaction.

As he flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his fingers stroke you closer and closer to your high until you’re so close you can practically taste the sweet, heady feeling of ecstasy. “Show me what you sound like when you cum, baby.”

“Oh—shit—oh, my God,” you hiss as your eyes screw shut tight, pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm travels through your system. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he hums in agreement.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Haechan—” you moan wantonly, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop attending to your breasts until he’s certain he’s milked every last second of bliss from your body, alternating between sucking and flicking and swirling his tongue around the buds until you go limp, your body slumping against the wall for support. 

Finally, he pulls his arousal-coated fingers from your underwear, trailing them over your bottom lip before pushing the digits into your mouth to suck. 

You do so with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, and are just as surprised as Haechan when he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you whine in protest.

His brows shoot up into his hairline and you feel heat blazing furiously in your cheeks as he regards you with a mix of surprise and an expression that looks close to impressed.

“You like to suck, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod hesitantly. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and he grins. “Wanna suck something bigger?”

Hesitant but undoubtedly excited, you nod, and he wets his lips before setting about unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. 

As he does, you slowly sink to your knees, and when he looks up from his pants to see you kneeling before him, he lets out a loud swear that you fear might blow your cover.

As you stare in awe at his impressive size, you realize you’re less worried about getting caught than you are about having to stop. He watches you watch him with amusement and fascination, but the undercurrent of desire runs strong as he clicks his tongue to get your attention. 

You look up at him, and he licks his lips, exhaling a small puff of air before wrapping a hand around his base.

“This is the prettiest sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he praises, and you smile, heat rising to your cheeks once more. Lowering himself slightly, he cups your breasts, pressing them together and grunting, “I’m gonna fuck these one day. But now?” he says, releasing them and stroking your chin affectionately. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth.”

“You ever suck someone off, baby?” he asks in a low voice, and you shake your head, making his eyes slide shut in bliss as he squeezes himself harder. “Fuck, I’m your first?”

“Yes,” you mumble shyly, and he coos affectionately at you, leaning down slightly to cup your chin with his free hand. 

“Remember when you were sucking that little lollipop the other day?” he asks, and you nod. “It’s kind of like that. Use your tongue, and the wetter it is, the better.”

You nod carefully and sit forward, letting your jaw drop open. 

“Fuck, baby. Tongue out for me?” he grunts, and you oblige, letting your tongue drop out of your mouth and lie flat for him. “So good, baby, just like that,” he encourages, leaning forward and guiding the head of his cock into your mouth. 

It feels strange but not unwelcome, and you suck gently at the head of his cock, more focused on using your tongue to explore the intrusion in your mouth. Based on the way Haechan’s breathing shallows and quickens, you suspect you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” he groans, his head tipping back before it snaps back up as he seemingly realizes he’d rather watch you. “Mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

You can only manage a whimper as you boldly press forward, taking more of his length into your mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his length before tentatively flicking it over the slit in the head of his cock. He groans weakly and, emboldened, you do it again, Haechan letting out a delicious little grunt that spurs you to kick it up another notch.

You start to bob your head, doing your best to alternate between bobbing and licking, and Haechan shudders deeply, his hand releasing the rest of his cock and moving to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair. 

“Just like that—fuck—” he hisses, biting his lip as he watches you suck him off, skill increasing with every movement. When you push forward a bit too suddenly, eager to impress him, you choke briefly on his length, throat constricting slightly as your gag reflex activates slightly. “Oh, shit—”

Despite the slight ache to the back of your throat, you keep sucking, moving forward slower this time to allow your throat time to adjust to his size. When you massage the underside of his tip with your tongue, wet muscle gliding over the ridge of skin, he moans your name and it’s one of the most rewarding sounds you think you’ve ever heard.

“So good,” he pants as you bob your head up and down, and his length twitches in your mouth, giving you a hint that he’s close. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You move your head faster, sucking his length to the best of your ability with all the tricks you just learned, and his fingers grip your hair tightly as he spills into your mouth, his hips sluggishly thrusting forward as he shallowly fucks your mouth. 

“You,” he grunts, helping you to your feet so you’re face to face and kissing you deeply, “are a fast little learner.” His tongue slips between your lips and he explores your mouth eagerly, licking at your tongue and inner cheeks as you whimper, dizzied by the fervor of his kisses. 

“Baby,” he mumbles into the kiss, the urgency in his voice waking you up slightly, “I wanna eat you out. Can I taste you, princess?” When you nod, he grins brilliantly. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He drops to his knees and slides his hands up from your ankles, hands slipping under your skirt to caress your hips. Pulling your underwear off, he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, warm, slender fingers spreading apart your folds to get a better look at you.

When you whine softly in embarrassment, he shushes you gently, murmuring, “I just want to admire you for a second, baby, please?” He ducks his head under your skirt and sucks in a sharp breath when he’s met with the sight of your core, folds glistening with your arousal. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes in awe, and before you can reply, his mouth is on you, upper lip resting just above your clit as his tongue strokes along your folds indulgently.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, stumbling back slightly to lean against the wall behind you. Haechan moves with you fluidly, massaging your clit with his tongue as his fingers clutch your thighs, kneading the flesh with greedy, rough movements.

Tongue moving downwards towards your entrance, he prods the tip of it against your hole, chuckling when you jolt and squirm under his actions. “Don’t be shy, baby, I just want to taste.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and he must be able to tell, because his tongue pushes forward, slowly breaching your entrance. You suck in a loud breath as his tongue delves further into you, occasionally coming out to slurp up the arousal dripping from your hole. 

“Tastes so good, baby,” he moans, his nose rubbing against your clit as he slowly starts to move his tongue in and out inside of you. The feeling is strange but amazing, a slightly ticklish element to the pleasure you’re receiving as he tongue-fucks you. 

Slurping loudly and moaning even louder, Haechan loses himself in your core, alternating between tongue-fucking you and licking at your folds and clit, leaving sloppy wet kisses that make your mind spin.

“Yeah, you like that?” he grunts, sucking at your clit hard before slipping his tongue out to stroke the sensitive underside of the sensitive bud. “You like when I kiss your pretty pussy? Hm? Do you like it when I make out with your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, fingers clutching at his head over your skirt. When you get a good grip on him, you start to pull him closer, wanting more of his touch.

“Always so good—so shy and innocent.” Haechan murmurs, words slightly muffled from his oral ministrations on your pussy. “Now look at you; look how bad you’re being.”

“Haechan, please,” you breathe, and he turns his head to suck at your inner thighs, no doubt leaving a mark or two in his wake.

“Wanna see just how bad I can make you be.” he coos before surging forward to lap at your core eagerly, losing himself once more in the taste of you. “Fucking delicious, baby, you taste so good for me.”

He sucks and licks and kisses—even nibbles a bit—until your legs are shaking and your grip on his hair is iron-clad. You briefly consider the extremely compromising position someone might find you in if one of your friends walked down the hall and are surprised to find that not only do you not care, but there’s even a smidge of excitement when you think about getting caught like this, with Haechan’s head under your skirt and your breasts exposed.

“Haechan, I’m—I think I’m gonna—” you pant out, and he nods fervently, tongue slipping out of your entrance to flick your clit back and forth rapidly, a sharp whine slipping from you.

“Cum for me, baby—cum all on my tongue.” he urges, pulling you closer as he feverishly laps at your clit and entrance, shaking his head from side to side rapidly to run his tongue along your core back and forth. “That’s it, pretty girl, just let go.” he purrs, coaxing your climax out of you, and you do just that, letting the coil wound tight in your abdomen snap and letting the pleasure flood through your body.

“Haechan—” you whimper, and he hums soothingly as his tongue massages your clit once more, thoroughly milking your orgasm for all its worth. When the trembling of your legs has calmed down slightly and you’ve started to breathe normally once more, he pops his head out from under your skirt and winks up at you, chin and lips covered in your arousal.

“You’re addicting, baby; could eat your pussy for hours.” he says as he rises to his feet. A look downwards grants you the sight of his erection, fully hard once more, and you swallow thickly before looking up at him only to see that he’s already watching you with a small grin on his face. “Think you can handle one more?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, and Haechan beams at you, drawing closer and closer until you’re flat against the wall. 

Nudging your legs apart, he settles between them and aligns his tip with your entrance, looking up from where your bodies meet to your face.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, and you nod carefully, eyes drifting back down from his face to where the thick head of his length presses against your core. “Good girl,” he breathes before pushing into you slowly, covering your mouth with his palm as you gasp out loudly. “Baby, they’ll catch us if you keep making noise like that.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, but it’s a muffled apology given that Haechan’s hand is still firmly clasped over your mouth. “So full,” you whisper in awe, and he chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing to the spot just behind your lobe. 

“Feel so tight around me, baby,” he grunts, his labored breathing in your ear telling you that he’s just as affected as you are. “So fucking good—”

“Haechan, move,” you whisper urgently as he bottoms out in you, and he obliges, pulling out to the tip and pushing into you again. A loud whoosh of air escapes your lungs, and he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, making you let out a loud whimper that would have been much louder had Haechan’s hand not muffled it.

“I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Haechan murmurs with a smile on his lips as he kisses along your jaw and moves his hand to kiss you. 

“Mm—! No, I don’t—” you insist through your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a taunting grin.

“Yes, you do,” he teases. “You want all our friends to come in this hallway and see me fucking you like the perfect little fuckdoll I always knew you could be.”

“Hae–chan—” you stutter, tiny noises leaving you with every powerful thrust of his hips. He’s so good, so big and thick, and he’s filling you up just right and hitting all the right places, and it becomes too much very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushing through your body as he fucks into you. If it couldn’t get worse for you, he reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick circles just like you showed him earlier. “Fuck—stop—too much—”

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” he coos, shifting himself to angle his hips into you just right so that every snap of his hips sends his tip fucking directly into your g-spot. 

You feel warmth behind your eyes, the telltale pricking at the corners that you know all too well, and the first tear drops before you can wipe it away, another tear following after that as the pleasure all but consumes you.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry, it feels good,” he consoles you, reaching up with his free hand to wipe your tears away. 

“So good—too good—” you babble, and he laughs at that, brows furrowing at the end as you clench around him.

“It can’t be too good, baby—you’re not making sense anymore.” he says with a playful lilt, and you whimper, more tears falling as you sniffle pathetically. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Wanna cum—Haechan, please let me cum—” you beg, and his movements stutter, Haechan looking at you in surprise.

“Yeah? Baby wants to cum?” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your walls flex around him again. “Fuck, I love when you do that—feels so good—cum for me, baby.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you promptly fall apart around him with a messy string of swears and “please” and utterances of Haechan’s name as your nails dig into his forearm, making him wince slightly. You’re sure you look a mess, eyes wet and glossy as tears stream down your cheeks, but Haechan’s drinking in your appearance like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby—I’m close—fuck—” Haechan grunts. “Gonna cum—where do you want it?”

“Want it inside of me, please—” you croak weakly, and he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a smug chuckle and a moan.

“Can’t believe you were skittish as a mouse just the other day, and now you’re begging for my cum. Want me to fill you up?” he pants, hips driving into yours with reckless abandon. 

“Please—” you whimper, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck—take it all, baby,” he urges, hips pressing into yours as he buries himself in you and empties his load. “It’s all for you,” he says breathlessly as his length twitches inside of you.

He stays inside of you for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath, before he slowly pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you fix your skirt back into place. To your confusion, he hooks his fingers in your underwear, pulling the thin, arousal-soaked fabric down and off your legs. 

“Um…” you start, and Haechan looks over at you, brows raised expectantly. “Those are mine,” you state, pointing at the fabric in his fist.

“And now,” he hums, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply, eyes sliding shut in bliss just in time to miss your scandalized expression. “They’re mine. C’mon; you should use the bathroom.”

He loops his fingers around yours, other hand stuffing your underwear in his back pocket as he leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes behind you, you sit down on the toilet with slightly shaky legs, taking a moment to think about everything that just occurred. 

You would have never in a million years thought that you’d have sex with Haechan, let alone in the hallway—let alone, with your friends in the very next room. However, as you think over the events that just transpired, your body is filled with a warm thrum of satisfaction, and you can’t seem to find an ounce of regret. 

“Girl, where the hell were you?!” Karina exclaims, fussing over you as soon as you reappear in the living room. “We’ve been texting and calling for ages!”

“Oh,” you mumble, pulling your phone from the little pocket in your skirt. “It’s been on Do Not Disturb,” you explain sheepishly, and Karina rolls her eyes hard.

“Don’t do that again. You had us worried sick. What were you even doing for so long?”

“Um… well, Haechan and I,” you start, casting a side glance to the couch where Haechan sits and hesitating slightly when you see that he’s watching you intently, not an ounce of shame in his expression. “We hooked up.” you say finally, straightening your back slightly and standing up taller.

Yeri’s jaw drops. “About damn time.” she remarks, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“Hush, you.” you huff, looking over at where Haechan sits once more. He locks eyes with you and grins, patting the empty spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and you smile, looking away from him to address your bewildered friends. “I’ll explain everything later—”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, girl.” Karina chuckles. “He’s waiting,” she sing-songs, and you elbow her slightly before shooting them a bright smile and a small wave and making your way to sit next to Haechan. 

When you sit down, Haechan drapes his arm around you on the back of the couch, and you can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“So,” he says carefully, taking a hit of his pen and exhaling slowly before he continues, “I know this is a little backwards of me, but… do you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d like that,” you reply with a bashful smile, and he grins, relieved.

“Great. Now in the meantime,” he says, looking pointedly towards the hallway before looking back at you expectantly, “I have a nice ass TV, snacks, and a strong ass edible with your name on it in my room. You down?”

You don’t even hesitate. “I’m down.” you agree, smile widening, and he nods, satisfied. He stands from the couch and offers you his hand, which you take as he pulls you to your feet.

As you trail after him towards his room, fingers still locked with his, you can’t help but notice the familiar peek of fabric sticking out of his back pocket, and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, and he looks back at you with raised brows. “My, um, underwear is sticking out of your pocket.”

“So?” he answers simply, and you pause, brain buffering for a moment.

“So?”

“Yeah. No one knows it’s your underwear but you and me,” he points out as you reach his bedroom door. He swings it open and gestures for you to enter first, head dipping down to your ear as you pass by. “So it’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” you mumble, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says encouragingly, guiding you to his bed and gesturing for you to sit down. “Now, what do you want to watch?”

“Uh, we can watch Family Guy,” you suggest, and he looks at you, pleasant surprise written on his handsome features, before he nods and picks up the TV remote.

“Good choice,” he praises, sitting down beside you against the headboard of his bed. “Perfect show to play in the background while we make out.”

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise, and he snorts, eyes fond as he scans your bashful demeanor.

“I’m kidding.” he assures you, and you can’t help but frown slightly. Unfortunately for you, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan, and he chuckles. “You wanted to make out, didn’t you?”

“A little bit,” you mumble, and he grins, leaning in closer to you.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, still smiling as his lips meet yours.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Rough Sex w/ MW2

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Smut, Rough Sex, Restraining, Stomach Bulging, Unprotected Sex, Sexual Punishment, Use of a Strap-On, Implied Blow Job, Possessive Sex, Dehumanisation, Slut Shaming, Reader Blaming, Hair Pulling, Slight Dumbification, Blood, Dirty Talk, Profanity, Pet Names, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Just a stupid little whore, aren’t ya,” Simon growled as he pounded you from behind, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that phantom bruises descended upon your skin. The slickness of your abused hole did little to numb the pain of Simon’s rapid, unrelenting pace, of his engorged tip slipping deeper and deeper inside you, plugging you, making any form of escape from your impending unravelment impossible.

You could feel his cock, hot, heavy and ravenous, pulsating inside you, bringing you to the edge of electric euphoria with every thrust. 

“Good for nothin’ except takin’ my cock.” He spat, his hand sliding up your spine and rooting itself in your hair. He gripped at the base and pulled your head back, hissing in your ear.

“Isn’t that right, Darlin’?”

You wanted to speak. Wanted to tell him you were his, only his, but the words wouldn’t come out quick enough.

When you didn’t answer in time, he stopped. Pulled out, only the swollen tip remaining lodged inside.

Without warning, he pushed. Hard.

You’d felt full before, but this sudden influx of skin and muscle and heat was too much. It knocked the air out of you, made you cry out as Simon sank balls-deep inside you, impaling your shuttering, wanting body on his dick. He grunted, his grip on your hair tightening.

“That’s it,” he said as you whimpered, cried out. “Take it — take it like the slag you are.”

König

“You wanted this – you wanted me to take you. Fucking attention whore,”

König’s voice reached depths you didn’t think possible as he bounced you on his cock, his stomach coated in your juices as he lay beneath you, thrusting up to plant as much of his member in the tight cavern of your hole as possible.

Even from where he lay, he could see the outline of himself within you. He twitched. Tried to stave off from painting your insides white for just a little longer.

You had no choice but to take it – your wrists bound behind your back with König’s belt – to take every inch of König’s cock.

He stretched you out to lengths you didn’t think possible as he pulled you down onto the base of his member, causing tears to stream down your face as he hit a sliver of you you didn’t think existed.

“God, you’re nothing without me,” he asserted, teeth gritted and restraint pushed to the very limit. “Nothing but a rag doll on the end of my dick – only made for me to use as I please.”

You knew it was true, especially with the coil within you verging on snapping, sending you over the precipice of ruin. König gave you a sly, thin grin.

“Nobody else can fuck you like this, can make you cry like this.” His grip on your waist proved he wasn’t lying, shortened nails leaving crescent indents in your skin.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Soap

“Don’t tell me you’re cryin’ on me now, Darlin’,” Johnny said, not an ounce of sympathy or empathy in his voice. If anything, the realisation that you were just about holding on as he railed you from behind seemed to make him go faster, push harder, knocking his thick, meaty cock into you at a pace that could only be savage.

“C’mon, show me you can take it. I know you can,” he goaded — or perhaps encouraged. You couldn’t be so sure, especially as you could barely string a thought together, never mind the inclination to ask. He watched you, made dead eye contact with you through the mirror that put your undoing on display for him, his eyes piercing and ice.

At your silence, Johnny slapped your backside. Harsh. You yelped at the sting and jolted forwards, only for Johnny to wrap a hand around your throat and pull him back. His balls were flush against your backside, the tightness of your bodies together making him grunt.

“C’mon, mo ghaol — tell me how much you need this dick — show me how much you deserve it.” He squeezed your throat.

Valeria

“You were begging to be used by me — wearing those tight shorts like I wouldn’t notice.” Valeria punctuated her point with a harsh thrust, sending you banging against her desk, ribs aching, pressed against sleek wood. Everything hurt.

The strap-on she’d chosen was one she reserved only for correcting your most egregious behaviour. Apparently, this extended to your fashion choices, too.

“Trying to make my men lose focus, huh? Is that it?” The sound and sensation of your body welcoming the cruel length of her weapon made your cheeks flush and your hole clench, trying to pull it deeper, begging for punishment.

“Have I not given you enough attention? Or are you just hungry for anyone who lays eyes on you,”

You whimpered, trying to keep your head level as your girlfriend battered your insides with nothing less than animalistic fervour and rage.

“You wanna dress like a cheap whore,” she said, voice deep and husking as she lowered her lips to your ear. “Then I get to fuck you like one — my whore.”

Price

“I love you,” he panted. “I love you, I love you, I love you–”

He couldn’t stop – these last few hours with you would be all he had before he had to go on deployment again. And he was determined to make them count.

He’d stuffed himself into you, made light work of grinding your sanity down to its bare foundations as your body shook with the onset of another orgasm.

You were already so sensitive, every knock of his tip against your sensitive spot sending equal euphoria and pain through you.

“Gonna cum in you again,” he said, voice lethargic, words slurred like the blurring edges of watercolours. “Gonna get it as deep as possible. Want it still in you by the time I reach Base.”

The many loads of cum he’d already pumped into you weighed heavy in your belly, almost creating its own centre of gravity as you fought to keep your swollen stomach off the mattress. Anytime you failed, the sensitivity of your skin, the feeling of his load stagnant inside you, made you wince.

You could feel John’s cum leaking out of you as he plunged deep, deeper still, forcing his seed out of the small spaces which weren’t suffocated by his almost impossible girth. 

Horangi

“Been stretching you out for hours and you’re still- ngh— fuckin’ tight.” Hong-Jin said, almost as if chiding you. He grunted, balls-deep yet nowhere near satisfied, his resolve being milked from him.

“Gonna need to–” he grunted, “break you in,”

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. One that, despite not having the power of his whole length behind it, forced a strangled moan from you.

His breath caught as he felt himself slip into a deeper, darker part of you, one which seemed to try and reject him as your hole pulsed uselessly around him, as if to push him out.

He persisted. Hissing.

When he pulled out, he spotted something.

A small streak of blood along his shaft.

“Doing so well for me, Love,” he groaned, slipping back in and re-establishing a rhythm. You mewled beneath him.

“God, you’re so good — just lying down and taking it – like my own personal fleshlight.”

Alejandro

“So this is why you’ve been acting so strange recently, hm?” Alejandro spoke between pants, arms at either side of your head, blocking off everything that wasn’t him. He gritted his teeth, grunted at the feeling of you tightening around him as he brutalised you with his savage pace, stretching you out and making your hole spasm around his cock.

“Just needed a good fuck, didn’t you?”

You were all but drooling as Alejandro quite literally fucked you dumb, no thoughts in your head save for the desperate electricity between your legs.

When you didn’t answer — or rather couldn’t, for your mind was scarcely able to keep itself intact for the feeling of ruin rapidly descending upon you — Alejandro took your chin between his fingers and forced you to focus on him.

“Didn’t you.” He repeated. To that, the fire in his eyes, you managed a sloppy ‘yes’. Alejandro hummed, pressed himself closer, chest-to-chest.

“Don’t worry, Cariño — we’ve got all night to fuck that pretty little mouth back into working order.”

Rudy

Years of toil, training and discipline have shaped Rudy into the unsuspecting behemoth he is today; as was evident in the way you cried out when his dick skewered you, stretching you out and making your back arch against the mattress. He felt himself pressed to the wall of your abdomen as your stomach met his. He shivered.

“He can’t fuck you like this,” he said, voice low and seething, the intonation of a snake. His usual puppy-eyes were sharp, as if of a feline disposition. He watched you as your eyes, almost having rolled back into your skull, refused to meet his.

“Nobody can have you. You’re mine — only mine.” He slammed into you faster, giving you no preparation and only using the wetness already dripping from between your thighs there to slip in. 

“Now, tell me who you belong to.”

Your mouth, agape with silent pain, released nothing. Rudy raised his hand, slapped you. You yelped, the sting sending a shock between your legs. You clenched around him. He growled, head dipping to your collarbone, where you could feel his breath, scorching and unrelenting.

“Let’s try this one more time,” he rasped. When he looked up, his eyes were black. Gone was the man you loved.

“Or I won’t be so forgiving.”

Graves

“You like bein’ used by me, don’t ya,” Graves panted, struggling to keep up with the pace of his own euphoria. He could tell you were close, too, from the way tears streamed down your cheeks and how you suctioned around him, pulling him deeper, pleading with him for more.

“Love bein’ my favourite little cum dump — so well-behaved, just for me.”

Nothing could be truer as you felt him thrusting into you at a speed that suggested anger. 

“Never be good for anything except taking my cock like a good slut.”

Your tongue lolled out from the corner of your mouth, drool dripping onto the sheets as Phillip allowed you your silence, especially considering how you’d earned it. Your obedience, your willingness to take everything he gave you. You scratched just the right part of Graves’ ego that had sustained him for this long.

His eyes glinted as he looked down at you.

“Ain’t that right, Doll.”

Gaz

Gaz’s change in personality, admittedly, frightened you. Especially as he stood over you now, having bound your hands together tied them over your head to the bed frame.

You’d tried encouraging him to just touch you already, to take you now as you were bound and helpless. Hell, you’d even ground yourself against his boot, working yourself up into a frenzy all in an effort to make him crack.

He didn’t.

“Oh no,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “You don’t get my dick yet.”

Already having used his belt to immobilise you, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs along with his boxers. Half-hard and beading at the tip, he eyed you, a cruel smile at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck your face so hard,” he continued, taking you by the hair and forcing your lips to his pulsing member, watching your eyes widen. “That you’ll be eating through a tube for the rest of the week.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

[chestersturniolo]

TERRITORY

dealer!chris x fem!reader

Summary; Chris’ reaction to another dealer on his turf has your panties soaked

Warnings; oral f!receiving , fingering, biting, squirting, pet names, public ish but not really, mentions of drugs ofc, MDNI !!!!

˚ · .

You often accompanied Chris on his jobs. You didn’t mind it, in fact most of the time you enjoyed yourself. There was something about watching Chris handle people that had you crossing your legs constantly. But tonight, the exhaustion was taking over, a reminder of the long night before. You’d both been out late, frat-hopping as Chris dealt. It’s “Halloweekend” , so there had pretty much been non stop parties at every house. Meaning Chris had been raking in the money.

You tug on his shirt to get his attention “Chris,can we leave soon?” you ask with a pout, but already knowing his answer. His mouth twists up in that half-smile as he glances down at you. “Tired?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, a knowing look in his eyes since he caught you yawning not long before. You nod, leaning against him.

As expected ,he shakes his head , “You know this is one of my busiest weekends of the year-I gotta stick it out” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead “Now stop that whinin’ baby, I got work to do”

As if on que, two guys stroll up, stealing Chris’ attention away as he digs through his pocket for the customers fix.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way you’re going to sway him tonight. Resigned, you make your way to an open spot on a couch a few feet away, letting yourself sink back as you take a long sip from the solo cup, trying to keep yourself entertained by people watching around the room.

As you zone out, someone steps into your line of sight. Glancing up, you find a guy you’ve never seen before standing in front of you, his expression a little too smug for your liking. He leans down, an easy grin on his face as he speaks over the music. “Need a little pick me up darlin’?”

You furrow your brow, momentarily caught off guard, and before you can even respond, he plops down on the couch right beside you. His gaze turning to you, “Or how’s a free sample sound?” he adds, opening his palm to reveal a couple of loose purple pills. leaning in, his voice low as he offers it.

You glance at Chris just in time to see him notice what’s going on. You watch as his expression darkens, practically shooing the customers stood infront of him away, as he strides over to you quickly, jaw tight. He doesn’t even glance at you, his stare focused solely on the guy beside you, who hastily closed his hand, to try and shove his stash back into his pocket

But it was too late, Chris had already seen what was going on. Amused, you sit back, knowing exactly how this was going to play out.

“N’who the fuck are you?” Chris snaps

The guy seems to skip over chris’ demeanour, clearly unable to read the room, a smile on his face “Uh,I’m Jack, just transferred here man”

Chris’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly as if sizing him up “Hm-“ he hums as he steps closer, now standing directly infront of where the guys sat, “You dealin’ Jack?” he questions, almost too calmly. But you could see straight through it, you knew that tone.

He scans his surroundings before answering Chris in a more hushed tone ““Why, you lookin’ to buy?” he says, keeping his voice down, clearly thinking he’s keeping a real low profile.

You stifle a laugh, unable to keep it in. This idiot really thinks he’s scored himself a sell. To Chris no less. You found it fucking comical,

Chris lets out a low, dry chuckle, before leaning down , gripping two fists full of the ‘jacks’ shirt, and yanking him up from the couch in one swift movement. His mouth drops open in surprise, his eyes going wide as Chris pulled him to his feet

“Silly me-” Chris says, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his eyes pierce through the boy in his grip. “-I didn’t introduce myself” he says, his fingers curling tighter around the his shirt, almost lifting him off the ground.

“I’m Chris, campus supplier”

You watch in amusement as the cogs turn in the guys head, dumbfounded,slowly realising who’s stood infront of him. His mouth opens to talk but Chris gets there first ,

“Now, I’m gonna let this one slide because you’re new round here-” he starts, his voice sharp as he gives ‘jack’ a little shake “-but now you know… you know my name, my face, and you know this is my territory” Chris says through gritted teeth, releasing his shirt, sending him stumbling back a bit, struggling to keep his balance as Chris towers over him. “So, if I catch you tryna steal my clientele again, we’re gonna have some very big problems, are we understood?” Chris taunts, his tone firm and condescending all at once

The guys head bobs up and down in a frantic nod, clear fear in his eyes , “I-I’m sorry-I didn’t know, it won’t happen again” he stutters

“I know it won’t” Chris snarks in an icy tone “Now get the fuck outta here”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He spins around, practically tripping over his own feet as he makes a beeline for the door without looking back.

As soon as he’s gone, Chris turns back to you, his eyes immediately softening as they land on you. You couldn’t help the smirk plastered on your face as you look up at him from your spot on the couch. Chris furrows his brows at you before smirking back, “what you grinnin’ at?” he says through a chuckle, before sitting down next to you, reaching to pull you onto his lap.

You settle your knees either side of him, “That was so hot” you mumble, running a hand along his shoulder, feeling some of the lingering tension still there from moments before.

He shakes his head lightly in disbelief, “Sicko” he chuckles as his hands trail up your back, pulling you close,pressing your tits flush against his chest as his head falls to your collarbone, peppering innocent kisses along it. Chris never cared much about PDA, if anything it turned him on knowing people got to see exactly what was his.

The mixture of watching Chris basically scare off a rival, and the feeling of his lips grazing your skin sent a shiver down your spine that headed straight between your legs. You let out a sigh of approval, craning your head to the side to give him more access. With a few more nips and sucks to your neck, you give Chris a gentle push back on his chest. You didn’t mind PDA that much either, but you could feel the dampness pooling in your underwear, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take before you crossed the line of just “PDA” and go straight to ripping his clothes off there and then.

Chris leans back on the couch, “You okay ma?” he asks with a smirk. He could see that familiar look on your face, the look he knew all too well, he felt when your breath hitched at the contact of his mouth.

You nod weakly in response “Mhmm, i’m just-“

“Horny?” Chris cuts you off

You feel your cheeks burn up even more from his blatant call out. “No” you lie, climbing off his lap and settling beside him.

“Uh, you sure about that?” Chris mumbles, motioning to his lap. Your eyes widen, following his gaze, finding a dark wet patch on his jeans. You internally scold yourself for choosing to wear a skirt - one less layer to seep through…

Chris clearly got flustered by the sight, because before you could even respond, he rose to his feet, offering a hand down to you, placing the other one on his crotch, covering the little mess you made, “C’mon”

You didn’t know where you were going, but you also didn’t care. You reach up to grab his hand, as soon as you’re on your feet he hastily pulls you through the packed house. You reach a hallway with a que full of people, tipping Chris off that the door ahead was in fact the bathroom, and just in time , a drunken girl stumbles out. He doesn’t even slow down, just pulls you right past the line without a second thought. You barely have time to catch the annoyed mutters and eye-rolls around you as he marches you forward, his hand firm in yours. You reach the bathroom door and he tugs you inside before anyone can protest. He kicks the door shut, locking it quickly before backing you against it.

He glances down at the wet spot briefly before leaning to whisper in your ear, “messy girl, what am i going to do with you hmm?” he coos, his lips finding their way down to your neck. Your eyes flutter shut as he litters ghostlike kisses that make your hairs stand on end, his hand coming down, tracing a line up your inner thigh with his fingertip, painfully slowly

“n-no teasing baby, i need you” you whine slightly, the feeling of his light touch making you fiend for more.

Chris lets out a low chuckle against your skin in response, continuing his baiting touches. You writhe beneath him, the pulse between your legs growing every second that passes with his mouth exploring your neck

“please” you beg

He finally answers your pleas, his hands snake around, giving a firm smack on your ass before scooping you up, your legs wrapping around his waist

“so polite” he teases before crashing his lips into yours,

Your tongues immediately start to explore eachothers mouths desperately, as he brings you over to the bathroom counter, placing you on top. Chris pulls away, standing between your legs as he pushes your skirt up, ripping your lace panties down and shoving them into his pocket, revealing your bare glistening core. He lets out a groan at the pretty sight before dropping to his knees , pinning your legs wide open with his large hands,wasting no time ,burying his tongue in your sopping folds.

Moans immediately start slipping from your lips at the feeling of his mouth exploring where you had needed it most, perfectly blending with the slurping sounds coming from below as he relentlessly lapped at your pussy

Whenever Chris’ head was between your legs, he never held back- the way you tasted and the pretty sounds that would pour from your mouth absolutely hypnotised him every time. He loses all self control, nose nudging at your clit, swirling his tongue and rolling his face in circles nuzzling into you as far as humanly possible. Quite literally burying his face as your wetness smothers him,

“O-oh-fuck chris” you moan breathlessly as your hips start jutting against him, your jaw hanging open in bliss as his tongue drew eights

He groans against you in response, before bringing his hand up and shoving two fingers inside of you, without any time to adjust before he starts curling them , perfectly brushing your g-spot as his mouth focuses on your bundle of nerves.

You let out a loud pornographic moan at the euphoric sensation of his fingers and mouth working in unison, feeling like you’re falling apart underneath his touch

Chris pulls away slightly to watch his fingers disappear into you over and over again, his face glistening “That’s it baby get loud for me, let em’ know where else is my territory” he smirks , before clamping his jaw down on your inner thigh, sinking his teeth into your delicate flesh, his fingers still pumping back and forth

You yelp in pleasure as he makes his mark, tangling your hands through his curls, tugging on them as you emit the noise he ordered, not caring who hears. Desperate,incoherent babbles falling from your mouth as your orgasm builds rapidly

Chris frees your thigh from his teeth, reuniting his tongue with your clit, whilst letting out a satisfied hum. The sight of the perfect bite mark imprinted to your skin was enough to send you into orbit, the overwhelming pressure in your lower stomach becoming too much to bare. Seconds later, you snapped, gushes of clear fluid spraying out of you,

“fuckkkk” Chris moans, as he opens his mouth, his tongue hanging out as your climax splashes all over him

a/n; i need dealer!chris with my whole puss🥲 im still finding my feet with writing smuttiness, so im sorry if this wasn’t up to parr, im still learning loves! hope you enjoyed though,,

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST LINKED HERE

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @izzylovesmatt

@sturniolossss @sturniolofannnforevver @zariyam @r0s3luvr

@sturniolosluttt @matts1freak @conspiracy-ash

@stvrnzwrld @blehblehbleh735

@luvb0xoxo @ivysturnss @stars4star @sturnsxbitvh

@amayaaaho @thebigbadwolfahoooo t@riasturns @kamrynnsturns @strnlslut

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[syluslnd]

Hello, I love your headcanons! May I ask for a S/O who secretly doesn't feel attractive??. Until one day they say "I'm so lucky to have you, even tho I'm not pretty" as if they are used to it. Thanks!

Sylus reaction to his S/O who is insecure

You're sitting across from Sylus, having a casual conversation, sipping on tea while he casually scrolls through something on his tablet. It's a peaceful moment, his presence grounding as always but your mind drifts for a second. Absentmindedly, you say “I'm so lucky to have you... even though I'm not pretty."

The words slip out so casually but they hit Sylus like a ton of bricks. His head snaps up and for a moment, there's disbelief in his dark eyes, as though he can't believe what he just heard. His gaze sharpens and without saying a word, he sets his tablet aside.

"Kitten" he says, his voice low and commanding “what did you just say?"

You blink, a little startled by the intensity in his tone. "What? I'm just saying... I'm lucky, you could have someone way more beautiful!"

Before you can react, Sylus stands and pulls you onto him with a firm but gentle grip.You're pressed against his chest and his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.

"Sweetie, I don't ever want to hear you say that again”he says, his voice a mix of frustration and something softer, more protective. His hands cup your face, tilting it toward his and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips. "You have the prettiest face" he murmurs between kisses, his voice dropping to a husky whisper "and it's all mine."

You can't help but flush under his attention but before you can protest, Sylus grabs your wrist gently, lifting your hand to his lips.

"These hands" he says, kissing your palm "are the prettiest l've ever seen. I love every little part of them." His lips travel down to each finger, teasingly slow, making sure you feel every kiss.

"Sylus, I-" you start to protest, but he silences you with a mischievous grin, his teasing only intensifying.

"Oh, l'm not done" he says, his voice playful yet firm. He runs his hands along your sides, letting them rest on your waist for a moment before pulling you closer. "This waist?Prettiest waist l've ever touched” he purrs, his hands traveling lower until they settle on your hips.

He grips you firmly, not letting you squirm away as his lips press against the curve of your stomach. "And don't even get me started on this tummy, kitten. Prettiest thing I've ever laid my hands on."

You're starting to blush harder now, squirming under his relentless teasing but Sylus's hands slip down to your thighs, his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

"And these thighs?" he says, his voice dipping lower, full of amusement and affection. "Sweetie, I could write poetry about how pretty they are."

"Sylus..." you mumble, flustered and trying to hide your face but he's not having it. He tilts your chin back up, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"Say it" he commands softly, though there's a teasing edge in his tone. "Say you're pretty."

You try to resist, biting your lip but Sylus leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I'll keep going, kitten. Every inch of you is beautiful and I'll remind you of that until you say it yourself."

Your heart races as he kisses your collarbone, his hands still tracing your body as though each part of you deserves a special touch. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, you manage to whisper,

"I'm pretty."

Sylus smirks, satisfied but not done yet.

"Louder."

You blush deeper, but the way he's looking at you-like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen-gives you courage. "I'm pretty."

He chuckles softly, his hand cupping your cheek once more. "Damn right you are and don't you ever forget it."

[porcalinecunt]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇!

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ how aot men would treat their himbo incubus! ~

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍, 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈, 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. lots of rough sex. dumbification. overstimulation. breeding to the max. size kink. spanking. masochism(?) oral sex. throat fucking. cumshot. multiple orgasms.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : i made this while violently down horrendous for aot men jfc i was possessed anyways! this will be my last post as im going on a trip soon, so enjoy! 🎀

₊˚ෆ 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

to be blunt, eren can be a bit of a meanie! after all, you came at such a poor time. the man was too busy jerking off to whatever porn he found, desperately trying to get himself off when you came and ruined his orgasm. as if you weren’t enough of a nuisance, you proceeded to act dumb in front of an annoyed and furiously horny eren. you’re sweet babbling came to a rude halt once the brunette grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto your stomach while you faced the end of the bed. you couldn’t get a word in before you felt something pry at your soaked pussy, turning your head to see your mortal host push himself inside of you and violently snapping his hips against yours. it was only the beginning of his frustrated tirade on your poor cunt, maybe you should’ve shut your mouth or be a little more considerate of your hosts!

“h-hah..eren! g-gentle!—“ you whined like a bitch in heat, only to be met with another harsh smack on your bare ass that was littered in eren’s handprints. you couldn’t help but look back through puffy, wet eyes at the mortal who was fucking you with such ferocity. a green eyed glare made you turn away in embarrassment, before a hand forced you to face him again. god, the way he looked at you could easily rival every man you stole an orgasm from. “e-eren..” you moaned, earning you a hard snap from his hips as he leaned closer to you. the smell of cigarettes still lingered around him.

“who’s fault is it that you got yourself in this mess? hm? not me. now shut up and take my cock like a good little incubus..”

₊˚ෆ 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

secretly (not really tho), jean adores your naivety. even more so knowing exactly what you are, i mean, how can a literal sex demon be so stupid? a question he’ll never get answers to, but why matter? not when you finally find him in a state of carnal desire. jean will never forget your cute dumb face once you saw his hard cock out in full fuckin’ glory. he was huge, so huge, you struggled to take in his girth. pathetic kitty licks ‘n kisses on his leaking tip to helplessly grinding on his length, it only turned him on even more. enough to where you already completed your task, and yet here you were, continuously pumped full of his cum inside your ruined cunt. the best part? jean wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon, not until you stop making that stupid fucked out face that only gets him hard all over again!

seven rounds later and he still was nowhere near done. your incubus mark that rested on your womb glowed furiously in a hot pink shade, signifying your pleasure and satisfaction with your host. jean knew damn well of this, but continued to fuck you cum filled cunt as a pace only a rabbit could possibly do. “jean..! i-i can’tttt! too much! ah!” you babbled through drool soaked lips, only to be silenced by a sloppy kiss from him. he couldn’t even kiss you properly while being pussydrunk beyond oblivion. lifting you head, you watched in awe at the sight of jean stuffing your pussy full of cock, a small bump in your womb from how many times he creampied you.

“stay with me baby, i know you can take another one in you..you’re doing such a good job f’me love. shit..!”

₊˚ෆ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

the short and sweet of this man is how little he takes your bullshit. trying to get a good night sleep was difficult enough with your constant whining for attention. you were waiting for a chance to get your cunt pounded by the mortal, only to see him trying to go to sleep instead. however, your efforts weren’t in vain, as levi shot up and yanked you over his lap. you could feel his dick growing harder and harder in his pants as he tore off your flimsy thong that barely covered shit. a calloused hand came down on your bare ass, a sharp smack! startled you as your body jolted forwards only to be pulled back roughly by levi. hit after hit, the pain became an intoxicating pleasure as your cunt soaked itself in arousal, your painfully swollen clit begging to be touched. unfortunately, levi wasn’t the easiest to falter.

smack! a yelp tore out of your sore throat followed by a weak whine, the stinging pain slowly numbing your ass before you were forced back down to earth by another harsh strike. “no..no more..! hurts t-too mu—“ SMACK! another strike startled you from your rambling, almost falling off of levi’s lap where he pulled you up roughly by the tail and secured you tightly. you didn’t have to look at him to know how fed up he was with you antics, or how aroused he was. you wanted so badly for him to just have his way with you, spitting you open and bruising your insides. a tinge of regret only grew bigger as his painfully obvious boner poked at your thigh. fuck, he was hung down there, if only you just behaved yourself!

“what’s the matter? quit squirming like a brat and sit the fuck still. you asked for this.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐍

did you piss of this literal giant on purpose? maybe, and what’s wrong with that? infiltrating a wet dream of him getting sucked off by some rando he found hot, fusing reality with fantasy until it abruptly ended before he could cum. you couldn’t help but giggle at poor reiner, well, until he forced you onto your knees and finished the damn job himself. it didn’t matter how many cocks you’ve swallowed, you struggled to take reiner’s full length as he mercilessly fucked your throat inch by inch until your nose was touching his pubic hairs. the stretch of his girth had your throat and mouth stuffed full until you couldn’t utter a word out. don’t think he’ll stop there either! the moment his dick twitches, he’ll pull out and cum all over that pretty face of yours. such an erotic sight gets him hard all over again, only this time, he’ll breed your throat full.

“atta boy. putting that mouth to good fucking use after that stunt you pulled..don’t worry, i’m not even close to done.”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[nebulaafterdark]

Marry Me

Summary : Rhaenyra’s daughter is off limits, but Aegon won’t allow her to marry anyone else. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Princess Y/N Velaryon is easily the most beautiful woman to grace the seven kingdoms, by all counts of every Lord and Lady.

Alicent reminds her son often, “she cannot speak. There is more to it than the King lets on and we’ve no way of knowing if the same condition will be present in her heirs.”

“Y/N has plenty to say, to those who will listen.” She does not speak with her voice, but through written word, through her eyes, her laugh and her smile.

“I’ve said no.” Alicent snaps, “it is out of the question.” She slams his chamber door shut behind her.

Still Aegon makes it a point to check in with the Princess, to be kind. Even if they cannot marry, surely they can be friends.

This day, she is nose deep in a book when Aegon spots her in the gardens. “What book is that now?” He asks.

Y/N smiles, lifting the bound pages to present the spine.

“A Tale Of Two…” He cocks his head to the side to make out the rest of the title, “Dragons.“

She nods.

“Is it any good?” Aegon wonders, taking a seat beside her in the grass.

Y/N slides the open page into his lap, pointing to a passage on the left.

“A love story,” he realizes.

Y/N stares down at her hands.

Aegon taps a finger to her chin, “you should write a book.”

She shakes her head.

“I would read it.” He tells her truthfully, taking in the full effect of her peach colored gown in the afternoon sun.

The princess returns her attention to the book pages.

————————————————————————

Some weeks later, Cregan Stark arrives from the North, on behalf of his house, to negotiate a potential alliance with the Riverlands which the King has the final say in.

Viserys hosts a feast in Stark’s honor, followed by festivities in the grand hall.

Aegon is polite enough when Cregan comes to collect wine from the table.

“I could not help but notice the Princess while you were dancing.” Stark says, making harmless conversation.

“Y/N,” Aegon smiles, fondly.

“She is beautiful.” Cregan is equally entranced, “I must speak to her.”

“She does not speak.” Aegon reaches a hand out to stop him, with a forced grin.

“To you or to anyone?” Stark continues staring at Y/N over Aegon’s head.

“To anyone,” Aegon tells him. If she did speak, it would be to him first. Not some stranger.

“Well that’s no matter.” He pats Aegon once on the shoulder, “I’m going to introduce myself.”

Aegon stares, eyes wide as Stark crosses the room to Y/N.

Taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Cregan Stark, your grace.”

Y/N smiles, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

“This is my darling daughter, Y/N.” Rhaenyra says, proudly. Brushing dark waves behind her daughter’s ear.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” Cregan says, “I was wondering if you might like to dance.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her out onto the floor.

Aegon reaches for another cup, drowning his sadness in it.

“That is a fine match.” King Viserys says, watching them from his chair.

“Indeed, Husband.” Alicent agrees.

“Mayhaps a betrothal, in time.” Rhaenyra beams at her father.

————————————————————————

Each day Stark comes to Y/N with an offer of courtship, a new way they might spend time together. He appears to her with flowers, and little gifts he’s acquired from the North. He tells stories of his homeland and the things they might do together, as Aegon plots his murder.

Squeezing his glass so forcefully at supper that night it shatters in his grasp.

“Aegon!” Viserys shouts, as the red wine bleeds onto the dinner table.

Y/N pushes away from the table, rounding the line of chairs to his side. Plucking shards of glass from his skin, with her bare hands and covering his bloody palm with the pristine white fabric of her napkin. She stares at him, expectantly.

Aegon sighs, with a shake of his head. Leaving the dinner table, quietly. Sometimes, it is best not to speak, especially when no one cares what you have to say.

————————————————————————

In the week that follows, Aegon becomes more withdrawn.

Y/N can’t help but think it is something she’s done. Mayhaps their friendship is not something that interests him any longer. Which will make it easier now that Cregan has asked for her hand.

When Alicent gathers her children to break the news that the official betrothal will be celebrated that night, Aegon nearly refuses to attend the procession.

Do they truly expect him to sit there and be merry as Y/N is given away to a near stranger?

Y/N taps her mother’s hand anxiously, before the announcement is made.

“It’s alright,” Rhaenyra assures her, “there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Y/N shakes her head.

“You must marry, sweet girl. Cregan is a good man, he will treat you well.”

Her eyes plead with her mother.

“Who then?” Rhaenyra sighs.

The woman’s gaze flits to Aegon across the room, staring at her with clenched fists.

Aegon inhales sharply, moving toward her on unsteady legs.

“Don’t you dare.” Alicent catches his arm, but it is too late.

Aegon tears his arm free, Y/N is already moving toward him. Pulled together by some invisible force, neither one can explain. “Y/N, I first wish to apologize for the distance between us as of late.”

Y/N’s eyes soften, alight with a fondness reserved only for Aegon.

“But I do not want some Stark bringing you flowers. I want to do it. I cannot stand the sight of you dancing with him when I want to dance with you. I do not begrudge you happiness but I…I love you and I’d like you to be happy with me.” Aegon drops to his knees, “marry me.”

“Aegon!” Alicent protests, only to be silenced by her husband, the king.

“Please.” Aegon says, ignoring his mother’s outburst.

Y/N tugs at his hand, until he stands. Her eyes searching his.

Aegon cups her face in his hands, chest heaving with nerves. “You will want for nothing so long as I live, I swear.”

Y/N rests her hands over his, nodding.

“Yes?” Aegon stammers, “you’ll marry me?”

Another nod and blinding smile.

He pulls her into his arms. “Thank you.”

Y/N holds him just as tightly, tapping at his back a moment later.

“What is it, my heart?” He pulls back, ever so slightly.

Y/N presses her lips to his, sealing the deal.

[kings-highway]

pre-relationship bullshit haikyuu teams probably had to put up with before various ships managed to get their shit together

daisuga probably was really annoying with like small/petty jealousy, like a girl would hit on one of them and the other would be standing behind their back making faces about it and mocking it and everyone else on the team just has to put up with it. and then theyre all overly sweet to each other to make up for the petty jealousy or some odd version of "winning them back" after the flirting event and the team is rolling their eyes *so hard*

i think asanoya is so annoying bc nobody can convince Asahi that Noya likes him. Like full stop. Eventually someone pulls him aside and is point blank like "Noya said he has a crush on you ask him out" and Asahi is just like: "Haha he was probably joking" and just leaves the scene. Like the absolute refusal to believe it from Asahi combined with Noya's classic teen boy inability to be sincere means that even after theyve both been told they somehow still havent gotten together??? how long is this going to take???

tsukkiyama probably ruins everyone's week the week before they get together bc one of them *saw* a confession letter stuck into the other's bag and absolutely went (emotionally) off the rails for the days leading up to them discovering it was for them.

I am fully of the camp that iwaoi start dating before they label it/make it official so the whole team is screaming like "PLEASE HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT IT" meanwhile Oikawa is saying "we just went on a few dates and kissed a few times it doesnt mean anything" and Iwa is in the background shouting "yeah I dont wanna be anyone's boyfriend that's lame" and then they wander off to go eat dinner together holding hands and the team is left in frustration because ALL they talk about is how theyre *not* in a relationship.

for bokuaka its mostly just Bokuto pestering every goddamn person he knows for like 4 months asking "do you think Akaashi likes me?" or "do you think he'd say yes if I asked him out?" and then one day making Konoha *snap* when he says "I need to tell you a secret" and the secret is that he has a crush on Akaashi as if nobody had known that

with ushiten I imagine Tendou was probably really obvious with his crush/interest but in like a very casual "not taking myself too seriously" kind of way so he's comfortable openly flirting, and Ushijima, against everyone's expectations, doesnt seem to mind the attention but is still who he is, so the whole team just has to put up with the most INSANE interactions. Like Tendou walks into the locker room and cat calls him and Ushijima just replies with a formal "thank you" and Semi is contemplating slamming his head in a locker. There's like 12 months of this.

okay okay but I think arankita is *very classic* in that Aran compensates for his crush by over-supporting Kita. so like the whole team gets super annoyed bc Aran wont risk disagreeing with him, is always offering to do extra work, is generally just sucking-up really badly and the twins suffer the most for this bc Aran used to just ignore their antics but now he's super annoyingly on them all the time to try and impress Kita

kuroken is a little different. Yaku asks Kuroo every single day if he's asked Kenma out yet. Lev asks Kenma if he has a crush on Kuroo every chance he gets. Fukunaga gives them a wink when they leave practice to walk home together. This is the only pairing in which the team is the irritant pre-relationship and then post-relationship everyone loses interest and moves on.

I'd include kagehina but once again the entire goddamn show is everyone putting up with them flirting so whats the point.

[zippidi-dooda]

In the early stages of going over to meet Bakugou's parents you were visibly uncomfortable, nervous, and always coming up with an excuse to postpone the visits.

Your heart was beating in your chest, hands clammy, eyes almost watery. And even though they were endlessly nice and welcoming towards you, something wouldn't let you shake the fear of being around them and you barely uttered a word, the rides home going with complete silence between you and him.

Bakugou of course had noticed and tried asking you about it, but then you'd feel that lump in your throat, not wanting to explain why you were always so anxious when it came to his parents since you didn't even know the reason yourself, you'd quickly change the subject or use any excuse to leave the room.

The avoidance irked him beyond belief, he wanted to snap and ask his questions straight out ... but he didn't want to run the risk of you crying. So, he sends a text explaining the situation to his parents and asks for advice, how should he approach this?

And the next time you visit, he and his father conveniently have to run out for an errand. You of course rushed to offer to go with them, you couldn't bear the idea of being in Bakugou's home without Bakugou, but they refused saying it'd be rude to make the guest do things for them. So, you were stuck. Alone. With Bakugou's mother sitting on the couch right across from you ....

You look down at your sweaty palms clutching your pants, head racing and praying to God she wouldn't want to talk.

And to your relief, she leaves the room.

Ahh ... you'll live to see another day.

Clink!

You look up slightly to see a plate full of steaming cookies on the coffee table in front of you.

Then you feel the cushion sink next to you and a caramelized floral scent envelops you.

"Glad we got rid of 'em! That boy would have a fit if I showed you these with him around."

Mitsuki was sitting right next to you.

"Well? Go on, grab some, it's rude not to try your host's treats. Brat doesn't like sweets, but these are Katsuki's favorites, I'll give you the recipe later." She winks.

You were dazed for a moment before grabbing one out of fear politeness.

The older lady crosses her legs, opening a thick album you hadn't noticed she'd been carrying and points towards a photo in the bottom right.

"This here is from when we got to bring Katsuki home for the first time. I knew then and there he'd be a pain in my ass. Ugly thing isn't he?"

... what a way to talk about your child.

You lean over a bit to take a look. And a smile makes it's way across your lips. He wasn't the prettiest thing, no, but since you loved him you couldn't help feeling happy at the sight.

She points to another one, "This here is when I caught him getting into my makeup. Masaru had taken the picture since he wasn't paying attention then showed it to me. Nearly chased him down the block when I saw it. Little Bastard was always getting into everything he shouldn't have."

You chuckled through your nose, finally taking a bite of the cookie.

It tasted amazing.

Mitsuki continued to flip through the album, telling you the stories that came with each photo, her way of storytelling garnering a bit a laughter from you and eventually you had your feet tucked on the couch and cheek resting on her shoulder simply listening to her talk. You hadn't even noticed it happen.

She didn't ask you questions about yourself, didn't point out your change in behavior, or even glance your way. It was almost as if you weren't even there. But, you were greatful for that. And she knew.

She had stood when she heard the front door beginning to open and looked at you, raising a finger to her lips, "don't tell Katsuki 'bout this, kay?"

You smiled and nodded, turning around to watch the pair as they walked in.

That was the first time you truly felt comfortable in the Bakugou household.

And you were soon looking forward to each visit, much to Katsuki's relief.

Well, it was relief at first when you were starting to converse and interact more, taking the time to get close to his mom and his dad and asking him about his family on your own.

But then he knew you were getting too close to his family, especially his mom, when you started sighing and asking questions like "Oh, what happened to the Katsuki who would sing just cause he felt like it" or saying things like "You know I think I'm happy I didn't meet you as a kid, we wouldn't have gotten along as well" or even pointing out toys to him like "look, it's just like the one you had as in the past, right?"

Then he knew exactly what made you open up to his family, "Hag's been showing you that damn album, hasn't she?"

And suddenly he didn't know if he should be mad or greatful towards his parents for coming up with their plan to help you grow comfortable around them.