#there are at least other two I want to give a long response to so please be patient

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.�� In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[ihfmseatsoch]

Hii, I don't know if you do requests but could we get Jimmy x sibling reader who, as teenagers/young adults do, decide to sexually experiment... but with each other? Preferably not full on non-con but as dubious or wild as you want. 🙏 Danke.

eeep i love this req... this is the quickest ive ever written a fic because i usually procrastinate so much 😭 brother jimmy just does smth to me.. i hope this is decent :p

—

older brother!Jimmy Zare x younger sibling!reader

gender neutral reader, genitals aren't clearly defined

genre: smut, dark fic

word count: 1.8k

warnings/content: dead dove, yours and jimmy's ages aren't explicitly specified but youre referred to as teenagers, incest, creampie, mention of parental abuse, codependency, you lose your virginity to each other, (how sweet ^_^) jimmy's a perv and an asshole ofc

Jimmy was annoying, as older brothers tend to be. You two would always bicker about things that didn't even matter in the long run. Ever since you were kids, he'd pick on you, stick gum in your hair, wrestle you to the ground and punch you in the back of the head; Normal sibling behavior.

Well, at least to you two, it was just how family treated each other. You shared the same abusive shithead of a father, after all. That's the one thing you had in common always brought you together in the end.

When Jimmy and your dad got in a fight and he'd stomp his way into his room, slamming the door behind him so hard you feared the hinges would break clean off, you'd always come and check on him. See if there were any fresh wounds you needed to tend to. He was still your brother after all, no matter how much he could infuriate you.

He'd rather eat dirt and glass mixed together and wash it down with a glass of gasoline than admit that he needed you. Needed your late night talks, bitching to eachother about life. Needed those moments where you'd pass a cigarette back and forth on the front porch at sunset, listening to the neighbors old dog yap at a squirrel across the chain link fence that caged him in his yard.

He needed you to keep him in check whenever he would slip into a depressive episode. Give him the whole, "Yeah, life sucks, but you don't need to kill yourself about it" pep talk.

In fact, the only reason you've stuck around is for Jimmy. If he wasn't born, you would've stolen your dad's truck, wallet, and drove seven states away. But the universe gave you an unstable older brother, and you'd rather not come home to see him dead. You kept him alive, and he was your responsibility.

Codependency combined with teenage hormones isn't a good mix, because that means you'll do anything for him, even at the expense of your dignity. You aren't stupid, you know he's bullshitting you when he walks into your room while you're half naked, claiming it was accidental, and that he was just looking for something which wasn't in your room to begin with. You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your body when you're wearing a tight fitting shirt, and then promptly excuses himself to his room. The walls between your room and his are thin, so you don't miss the sound of his groans and heavy breathing either.

What kind of little sibling would you be if you didn't help him out a little? Gotta give him some sort of practice for the future, don't you? Your poor big brother, all pent up and aching, puberty not helping to alleviate his constant horniness. And in all honesty, you haven't been able to get yourself off properly in a good while.

So one night, you go into his room without a word, his hand already reaching for his bedside drawer, which you already know contains porno mags he shoplifted from the gas station down the street. With an eye roll and that all too familiar glare of annoyance, he speaks, "Don't you ever fuckin' knock? Jesus..."

You pay no mind to his attitude. You're not here to pick a fight. In fact, he'll be grateful for your presence soon enough. "Am I not allowed to hang out with my brother?" You can't hold back your grin at your own teasing, which aggravates him further. "Not if you don't need anything. Get out."

Ignoring him once again, you approach him and sit right beside him on the bed. "Chill. I just wanted to ask you something." His eyes drift down your body, like they've done so many times before. You're intentionally wearing the shirt he likes. The one that gets him hot and bothered. Secretly, you're thrilled he noticed.

Jimmy stays silent, awaiting the question that's so imperative that you postponed his jerk off session.

"Have you ever fucked anyone before?"

You can hardly believe the words coming from your own mouth, and neither can he, his eyes widening with an indescribable emotion. Disgust? Discomfort? Bafflement? All three?

"What the fuck?" He scoffs, scooting away from you, but you don't allow him to escape that easily. You immediately get right back to your original distance.

"Have you?" You ask again, persistent as ever. He groans, covering his face in embarrassment.

"You're fucked up, you know that? Why the hell do you wanna know?"

"Because I'm tired of hearing you jerk off all the time. You obviously don't have anyone to fuck, or you wouldn't need those magazines to get off." You call him out, and it's clear your words ring truth, because he becomes increasingly flustered.

"Okay, what's your fuckin' point? You come in here to call me a virgin loser or somethin'?" He huffs, nudging you away as you draw yourself in closer. You grab his wrist to stop him from putting any sort of space between the two of you.

"Not this time, no. I actually wanna help you out." Your offer hangs in the air for a moment. He's speechless for the first time in his life.

"I've seen how you look at me. Don't try to deny anything. You're a teenage boy, I get it. It's fine." You break the tense silence between you by rambling. You actually feel a bit nervous now. What if he kicks you out of his room? What if you permanently made everything weird between the two of you?

"...And how are you gonna 'help' me, huh?" He still has that irritated edge to his tone, yet he's clearly intrigued. You decide to ease him up a bit. Test the waters, so to speak. Your hand finds it's way to his inner thigh, the outline of his cock already visible through his sweatpants.

"How do you want me to help you?"

—

And that's how you found yourself with his cock in your mouth, giving him his first blowjob. He's bigger than you expected, but as a devoted sibling, you force yourself to take it. You've gotta get some practice too, learn how to suppress your gag reflex. What better way to do that than suck your big brother off?

"Fuck— shit, you fuckin'... You're such a fucking whore. You like choking on your brother's dick, huh? You're a sick little bitch, you know that?" He grunts, degrading you for your actions like he didn't beat his dick fantasizing about this exact scenario several times. You simply hum in response. It's all you can do with your mouth full. You wouldn't consider yourself sick; just a thoughtful younger sibling.

It doesn't take long for Jimmy to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock, breathing stuttering as he attempts to calm himself down. He was getting close already. That alone makes you feel an immense sense of pride.

Jimmy grabs you and flips you over to your stomach with surprising ease, eliciting a yelp from you at his sudden manhandling. Greedy hands pull your shorts down to reveal your ass, a husky groan leaving his throat at the sight. "Jesus, ain't I a lucky bastard... havin' a little slut for a sibling. A slut with the hottest body I've ever fuckin' seen, no less."

He really has won the sibling lottery hasn't he?

You wince as he slips the head of his cock into your hole, losing your virginity along with him. You never expected your first time to be like this, not that you were expecting something all that special, either. Actually, you anticipated mediocre sex with some acceptably attractive guy named Kyle or Liam. This is marginally better, because at least Jimmy has a big dick.

And he's cute, but you wouldn't tell him that.

Jimmy lets out a deep, gutteral noise as he stretches your virgin hole around him, the feeling of your warm, gummy insides even better than he imagined. "Sh– Shit, you're tight. Gonna cut off my fuckin' circulation." He says with a strained groan, gripping your hips for support as he hovers over your body. He eventually inches his way in, balls deep inside of you, and god, can you feel it. All of him, all the way to your stomach. Sibling bonding has never felt this good.

"Ghh– fuck, you're big, Jim." You cover your mouth to suppress your own noises out of the fear that your father would hear you two. Although, it's probably a futile effort. Jimmy's bedframe is the squeakiest thing on the Earth after a lifetime of sleeping on it. All you can do is pray your dear ol' dad is passed out drunk on the couch again.

"Mhm." He agrees with your statement, his cockiness making you want to take it back, but before you can think of a retort, he thrusts, slow and experimental, causing you to lose your train of thought. A moan involuntarily leaves your lips. Jesus, how is he getting his cock to rub you in all the right places?

His gentle pace doesn't last very long, because soon enough, he's rutting into you in a way you can only describe as animalistic, the sound of his balls slapping against you filling the room, along with the string of grunts, growls, and curse words muttered under his breath. You bite down on his blanket, the material thick enough to keep you quiet as whimpering moans escape your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hole clenching around him whenever he hits a particularly pleasurable spot.

"God, if you keep squeezing me like that..." He trails off, sentence devolving into uneven breaths.

"Mmh– Yeah? I feel that good, huh?" You grin, eyes half lidded and already drunk off his dick, proud of yourself for making your big brother almost cum so quickly. Twice. Jimmy scoffs, rolling his eyes at your arrogance.

"Don't let it get to your head." He mutters. You still manage to annoy him when he's fucking you senseless.

You absolutely do let it get to your head when he cums, and an uncharacteristic whimper rips from deep inside his chest as he spills a massive, thick load inside your hole. You feel every ounce of the warm fluid filling you to the brim. Your own orgasm hits you, the hot wave of pleasure that washes over you like nothing you've ever experienced.

Jimmy collapses on top of you, sweaty chest pressed against your back. He's pretty lanky, so thankfully it's not enough weight to crush your lungs. After a minute of catching his breath, he sits up, and you follow suit. While he's slipping his boxers and old tank top with several ugly holes in the fabric back on, he says, "I'm gonna go smoke. You comin' with me?"

You would laugh at the absurdity of his offer if he didn't just exhaust you by pounding your guts. So after you clean yourself up and get dressed you follow him outside, where the sun is setting and the neighbors dog is just as irritating as ever.

[taradactyls]

Sneak Peak of Chapter Forty-Two of Trying to Tread Water

As promised, because I didn't get the chapter finished before Christmas busyness kicked in, and I didn't want to leave you all with nothing over the holidays. Hopefully this will keep you going until I get the chance to write the rest of the chapter!

~

Chapter Forty-Two

When seeing that the direction was in his aunt’s hand, Mr Darcy scowled at the letter a moment, before returning it, unopened, to the silver platter with the other mail.

“What is it?” enquired Elizabeth softly from the sofa, noting his expression.

“Lady Catherine has written,” replied he. Elizabeth looked as though she might stand, and he gestured for her to remain seated as he instead moved to sit beside her. “I was not expecting it. Georgiana had heard nothing from our aunt about such a step as of her last letter.”

“A response from Lady Catherine! Do you not want to read it now?”

“Not in the least.”

Elizabeth took his hand into both of her own. “Surely there is nothing to dread? At worst, even if she does scold you and denigrate me, we are exactly where we were before.”

“It is not that I dread anything Lady Catherine has to say,” he said frankly, meeting Elizabeth’s sympathetic eyes. “Instead, I simply refuse to have our morning disturbed by her. I am looking forward to going around the park with you in the curricle far too much to allow the contents of her letter – whatever that may be – to intrude. There is time to read it and think about any ramifications or responses later.”

“Well,” his wife smiled, “I cannot pretend a morning seeing Pemberley with you is not an infinitely more appealing prospect.”

He pulled one of her hands up to give it a kiss, and kept holding it as they fine-tuned the details of their outing. Yes, this was a far greater priority than his aunt.

Mr Collins would be aghast if he could see Pemberley over the course of that day, for as it happened, there was much that its occupants deemed more important than Lady Catherine, and so the ‘later’ designated as the time to open her missive did not come until long after nightfall. But as he could not see, there was not one person displeased by this and peace was allowed to reign on English shores. Mr and Mrs Darcy were settled comfortably in nightclothes and robes in her room, on the lounge before the fire, when Elizabeth, feet tucked upon the seat as she leant against an arm rest, finally watched her husband pensively open the letter. He perused it briefly, his expression revealing little.

“Lady Catherine does not insult you, so here,” he said, offering Elizabeth the letter, “you may read it for yourself.”

Though too respecting of the privacy of correspondence to have ever asked to see it, Elizabeth could not hide her eagerness to read the words of the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Mr Darcy gave her a brief summary as she took it from him. “Though there is a little resistance, it does seem her resentment is giving way. You were right, Mrs Darcy, to prevail upon me to overlook the offence and seek a reconciliation.”

“I am too glad for your and Miss Darcy’s sake to even be vain about my unparalleled wisdom,” she smiled.

“Clearly,” he replied, arching an amused brow.

She only smiled again and turned to the letter, which did show promising signs that the breach may be mended. Yet not even that relief, nor the seriousness of the topic, could negate how diverted Elizabeth was by reading some of Lady Catherine’s highhanded phrases.

Mr Darcy observed her silently as she read, sitting sideways with one knee on the seat and an arm propped on the back of the lounge, head half-leaning against that hand. “What part are you reading?” asked he, after she could not withhold a brief laugh.

Putting on her best imperious – and only slightly comical – voice, Elizabeth grandly reread the sentence. “‘I am pleased to discover from your petition to me that you have not entirely forgotten that sense of familial duty which was always so admirable in you.’”

The gentleman groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “How I hate to feel I am supplicating before her.”

“You do not appreciate being told ‘I know how distressing my displeasure must be to you, for you could not but feel it keenly, and as I am more compassionate than most I cannot but be touched by your agony’?” replied Elizabeth, reading again from the letter in the same tone.

That did draw a smile from Mr Darcy.

“But of course, how could you mind it,” Elizabeth said archly, poking his leg with her foot for emphasis, “when you are the wayward nephew being so generously welcomed back into the fold.”

He seized her foot before she could poke him again, and smiled fully at her surprised response. “I mind it significantly less when you are the one reading it to me,” said he as he lay her foot across his lap, his hand resting gently atop her ankle, skin separated only by her nightgown. “I might even be able to hear it without a shade of resentment and thus formulate a more measured response.”

“Well then,” replied Elizabeth, ignoring the heat in her face, “allow me to get comfortable and resume.”

Impulsively propping her other foot up next to the first on his lap, Elizabeth read on. She felt most of the letter seemed a superfluous demonstration to appease Lady Catherine’s own pride, and allow her ladyship to ignore the fact that the aunt benefitted far more from amicability with her nephew than the reverse. But, as that made for good material to read in an irreverent fashion, Elizabeth would hardly complain that the letter could be reduced to a third of its actual size without losing any crucial content. Especially when Mr Darcy was so often smiling at her delivery of the lines, the warm glow from the fire softening the lines of his aspect even further.

A little bit swept up in it, Elizabeth was not always aware exactly of what she was saying. One moment it was a condescending “If you wish to honour that unique trust that is placed in yourself and your cousin, the Colonel, to aiding the maintenance and proper management of Rosings Park, I should not object to allowing you the opportunity to regain my esteem by seeing you again in that capacity.’” The next, it was “‘Very well, Fitzwilliam, I will recognise you again, and even allow your marriage to stand,’” before Elizabeth suddenly realised what she just uttered.

Halting suddenly, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to Fitzwilliam Darcy, and was horrified to see him grimacing. Before she could apologize for the unintended causal liberty, for their situation, though married, was unique, he spoke.

“I had imagined my name from your lips would sound sweet,” he said, gaze fixed upon the fire, “yet when it is as you recite the words of my aunt, I cannot enjoy it at all.”

Though eased of her apprehension, she still explained “I was not thinking – I had not – I would never presume the right to address you so intimately. I only ever hear my mother use my father’s name when they are alone and she is so cross her voice travels through the walls.”

“That is also a far stray from my imaginings,” he said ruefully. His glance towards her was gentle, and his thumb brushing her ankle even more so, when he added “Do not fret, you have more than earnt the right to address me without ceremony in private. Plus, I have been calling you Elizabeth when we are alone for months now – I do not even know when I begun.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly at this, before her mind caught on what else he had first said. “How did you imagine it?” she enquired with a frown.

Mr Darcy blushed a deep crimson. “Mostly, mere casual use.”

“Well, in that case, what are our plans for tomorrow, Fitzwilliam?”       

It felt strange on her tongue, but only from newness. The taste of the name, the answering restrained happiness in Mr Darcy’s expression, was perfect. “Exactly as sweet as I thought,” said he.

Elizabeth herself blushed, and did not for a moment know where to look. “I hope not so sweet that you expect me to call you thus in public – I could hardly throw off decorum so blatantly,” she teased. Even her mother, as vulgar as she could be, would never be so crass as to incorrectly address her husband before others. The formality of a wife was part of upholding her husband’s honour and respectability, and showed her own gentility. It was simply good-breeding.

“No – such intimacy is not for their ears. Only you.”

“Then when we are alone, I shall consider you Fitzwilliam.” My Fitzwilliam, she wanted to say. Rising instead to levity, she added “Except for when I am very cross, apparently. What should I call you then?” she mused.

In an amused tone, he replied “I imagine the name you use will be of less import to me than your displeasure itself.”

“Perhaps I shall be so incensed that ‘Mr Darcy’ feels like a courtesy I do not want to give, and though ‘Darcy’ alone does roll off the tongue – and very easy to give that added emphasis to the first syllable, when venting my frustrations – perhaps I ought to go with the full name. Although an irritated ‘Fitzwilliam Darcy’ does rather sound like scolding a wayward child, and I am not sure that is the tone I want to capture when mad at you. I certainly cannot say ‘Mr D.’ or any other sort of abbreviation! And ‘husband’ seems so formal and cold when angry – although,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head in consideration, “I suppose that might have its uses –”

“Enough, Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy cut in with a smile. “I doubt this is a matter that needs to be pre-considered.”

“You are right,” she replied archly. “I should just go with the name that feels right in the moment.”

“Not exactly what I meant –”

“Unless that name is Fitzwilliam. Which I am to reserve only for sweet moments and never at all use when arguing.”

She smiled at his long-suffering sigh, the gentle stroke of his thumb over her ankle taking any negative associations from the sound. “I would retract my statement, that I do not want you to use it when cross, but I do not believe I ever asserted such. It is certainly not as bad as some of the names you might choose to call me during a quarrel.”

Elizabeth laughed at that. “And I suppose every name will sound sweeter when said happily.”

“Just so,” he said, looking at her.

They subsided into silence, gazes soft. Until Elizabeth suddenly remembered something: “But you know, Mr Dar- Fitzwilliam, that you never did answer my question as to what our plans are for the morrow.”

“Reply to that letter, for one,” he replied, nodding towards the letter Elizabeth she still held – completely forgotten in her distraction. “I ought to respond quickly, and propose that I visit this very month. Late March has ever been the tradition my cousin and I adhered to.”

“That will please Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he must attend then to supervise the planting is in order. No doubt he will appreciate the company if you are able to join him.”

“No less than I would appreciate his,” replied Mr Darcy. After a sombre pause, he added “I am uncertain of the likelihood of her granting permission for yourself to visit, however, so it may all be a moot point.”

Though growing curious about her new niece, Lady Catherine had not relented so entirely as to name Elizabeth as anything other than ‘your wife.’

Elizabeth could not help the smile that came to her face after a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, drawing out the word, “Charlotte keeps asking me to visit, so there is always the possibility we simply stay in different houses in the neighbourhood. That would not look odd at all!  I am certain it would inspire exactly zero gossip.”

“That might actually shame Lady Catherine into allowing you at Rosings.”

Elizabeth laughed, and by unspoken mutual agreement they left the topic there. There would be time enough to solve the dilemma of visiting Kent when Lady Catherine made her position on hosting her nephew and new niece clearer.

[starrieangel]

🩷 Curly helps reader regress 🌻

Request by Anon: “How about Curly with a reader who wants to regress but struggles to due to responsibilities and stress, And Curly just, gently coaxing reader into relaxing and taking a break from all of that”

Features: CG! Curly x Little! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Female Reader, Age Regression, omg this is way longer than expected, my Curly bias is showing

Notes: I used Daddy, Papa/Papa Bear, Teddy/Teddy Bear as cg names for Curly (cause he's my f/o and that's what I would call him alskxndkslsnxhkz thanks for requesting this, it’s very self indulgent..!!!)

rbs appreciated !! ☆ ~

Curly begins to notice that you aren't regressing as often as you used to. You've been extra busy with work or school, just general life stuff, and it seems to be taking up a lot of your mental energy

Normally he could get at least a giggle out of you each night, getting you to either regress or just relax into a calmer state by tickling you or playing with your plushies or offering to read you a bedtime story- just anything that he knows you'll enjoy

But lately when you go to bed, you don't seem to smile as much. It's like your responsibilities are weighing you down, sucking all the joy from you :(

Teddy Curly cannot have his little princess be so gloomy..! It kills him to see you so clearly stressed, but he's not really sure what to do at first..

Until one day, you come home from work/school, and Curly insists you let him take care of you.

“I know you haven't been feeling well, Princess, so I was hoping maybe today could be a.. little day? I've seen how stressed you are and, I just really want to help you feel better.”

“I don't know, Curly, I haven't really been in the best mood lately...”

“That's what I'm talking about, just... let me help you, okay? And, if I'm being honest, I really miss my little girl, too.” He says the last part sheepishly, looking down at his shoes as he says it.

You think about it for a minute before reluctantly agreeing. He sighs a breath of relief before his lips crack into a shy smile. 

“See, there's my good girl..” He wraps you in a hug, running his fingers thru your hair. “Now tell Daddy what's wrong. Please, bunny?”

You're already starting to melt a bit, feeling his strong arms around you, and hearing his handsome voice saying your special title for him.

You tell him what's been happening at work/school that has you so upset, he's resting his chin on your head as he adds “uh-huh, I hear you” or “I know, baby, that sounds hard” you can feel tears prick your eyes a bit as you near the end of your story, your speech sounding more and more like your little voice. 

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumb against your cheek. “Thank you for telling me that, baby. It's all going to be okay now, though. Papa's got you.” He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek.

“C-can we start that little day now?” You say, the weight of grown up life was beginning to be too much.

He chuckles a bit, thinking of how cute you are looking up at him with big wet eyes. “Of course, baby.” And without warning he picks you up so that you're resting on his hip, arms around his neck. You start to feel even more little- He’s so strong that he can easily pick you up like you're a baby /)(\

“How does a nice warm bath sound, darling?” He says in his soft voice. He presses a kiss to your cheek, really rubbing it in so that his facial hair scratches against you. You giggle from his stubble tickling your cheek- he always knows how to make you smile ♡

You nod your head, and he goes to draw you a bath ~

I think I will do a part two for this since it's kinda long!! Part 2 will have Curly giving regressed reader a bubble bath and putting them to bed 😊 Thank you for reading! and leaving requests :) sorry if I don't get to all of them, I try to only write for fun and not force anything, but I love hearing other's ideas! 

Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! I love talking to other people abt fanfic aaaa ♡ Thanks again! 

🩷🌻🧸

Guys why is this so long. Why am I so cuckoo for coco puffs over a character from a horror game. This is deranged

[helluverse-rewrites]

I saw your rewrite for Stoliz and it got me thinking about them for my rewrite, actually helped me decide between a few ideas! First thing's first, in my rewrite Stolas isn't like... *vague gesturing to the show* that. He's closer to biblically accurate Stolas, a peaceful demon who rules over stars, gems, plants, and math (something that leads into Andrealphus later). He still has flaws of course, the power dynamic between the two is still a huge thing and will be treated with more importance, as will the whole cheating thing that comes in later. Second, the deal isn't about sex. At first at least Stolas isn't looking for sex, and obviously Blitz, who at that point has literally just been caught mid-theft by this bird, is not looking for that either. What Stolas is looking for is knowledge, and maybe gaining a friend from the imp. He allows him to take the book if he comes back every full moon for the full day to be with him, talk and discuss with him. He knows their worlds couldn't be anymore different, and is curious what a life like that could possibly be like. Third, they are not endgame. At best they end up as friends, the first ones each have allowed themselves to make for years of their lives now. I don't know if I'll have Blitz end up with anyone, or a mix of Fizz and Striker, but that's unimportant to now. Now this might be where I lose you for a moment, but they would get together for a short while at some point, trying to do what they think they're supposed to do cause neither has had a friendship that was close that didn't lead to something like this, but quickly would find out that what they feel about each other isn't right for a relationship like that, sexual or just romantic. Stolas still looks down at Blitz even when he thinks he doesn't, he grows apathetic to the issues that pop up like he did in his marriage, blames Blitz for the issues that start pushing them apart, and it ends up with them not speaking, broken up, and Blitz scrambling to find a way to keep paying his employees as Stolas takes his book back. Stolas isn't the only one who messes up in the relationship of course, it'd be hypocritical to put all the blame on him when I critique the show for doing the same to Blitz. Blitz can't talk about things that get under his skin cause he doesn't want to shove Stolas away, but that ends in him yelling at him about things that seem so small in the end when his anger gets to him, he uses Stolas' money as he pleases for whatever random wants he has, and encourages him to drink with him despite knowing about his alcohol issues at this point. I'll try to cut this down a bit to not just be a mile long ramble- but that's the main points! Stolas would try to apologize- actually truly apologize by giving Blitz money and an Ausmodeus crystal so he wouldn't be forced to see him again if he didn't wish to. That's all I've got so far, gonna keep workin on it!

my actual reaction

This is so much better than whatever Viv tried to do with Stolass

Like... It's so easy to have Stolas take responsibility, it's extremely easy actually

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

Caitlyn:

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you.

- She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong.

- She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it.

- She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

[screampied]

MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling, to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looking around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you. 

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour. 

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised, and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you. 

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own. 

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you. 

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course, though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers. 

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty-one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left by his manager, kento nanami. 

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling. 

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy, he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside. 

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does. 

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison with the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse. 

“n-no.” you spat. 

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway. 

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i  do.”

“just asking.” you tease. 

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more. 

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him were simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer. 

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy. 

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile. 

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined. 

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips. 

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you were so dizzy. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good,” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous. 

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment, his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment on something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time. 

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush. 

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy. 

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw. 

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure. 

his breath hitches once he pulls out, watching his cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch. 

“you ruined my panties,” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leaned in for a kiss, and you returned the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your slick that remained all over his tongue. 

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself. 

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move. 

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a loss for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule. 

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him, cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the earpiece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you. 

the heels of geto turned before gojo brought a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around. 

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

You’re My Baby Too

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none

You'd think that the second pregnancy would be a breeze. You already know everything about how it goes, how to prepare, what to expect, but in your case, your second pregnancy was dreadful.

First trimester, horrible nausea, you spent half your time over the toilet with Lando holding your hair. Your baby boy was so much bigger than Isla it made your back hurt like crazy all the time, and the worst thing of all was that your baby boy didn't wanna come out.

You prayed you wouldn't give birth before Lando finished the season, so when the season ended you were relieved. But then your due date passed, and nothing happened. Then five days passed after your due date, nothing again. 10 days after your due date - the baby just doesn't wanna come out.

You were frustrated, exhausted, and tired of being pregnant. You just wanted to be able to see your feet again and be able to get up off the couch without Lando having to pull your hand.

"It's because you make such a good home for him he doesn't wanna come out, love." Lando tried to calm you down in a nice way, not even realizing that he irritated you with that because he's been saying that for the last 10 days and your nerves have become very thin hearing it.

"I swear, if you say that one more time.." You barked rolling your eyes at him while holding your still very pregnant belly.

"I'm sorry, I'll shut up.."

“Thank you.” You glared at him.

He didn't hold it against you for your brazen response because he understood that it had become too much for you. Lately, he's been walking on eggshells around you because everything has been annoying you, and he didn't want to be the one to contribute to that.

When the twelfth day passed since your due date, you realized that too much time had passed and you even started to worry a little that something was wrong. So Lando decided to take you to the hospital, where you very clearly told the doctor that you weren't leaving the place until you gave birth.

You thought that by some miracle, as soon as you stepped into the hospital, labor would start and you would just pop the baby out and everything would be over in less than two hours just like it was with Isla, but of course that wasn't the case with this baby.

"I think we have no other choice but to induce the labor." The doctor said.

"Okay, how long does it take?" You asked. "Is it like natural labor or?"

"Induced labor can last from a few hours to a few days, it depends. It's most often completed within 12 to 18 hours from the start of the procedure."

"Oh my God" You sighed in despair with tears in your eyes and Lando immediately squeezed your hand to offer you at least some comfort.

"Does it hurt more than a normal birth?" Lando was very concerned about how painful it would be for you. While you were giving birth to Isla, Lando was of course by your side, and even though it was much shorter and easier, he was still terribly shaken to see the pain you went through.

"I don't want to discourage you and scare you right from the start, but many women have said that induced labor is more painful."

And boy oh boy was it painful.

When they gave you the drip to induce contractions, that's when the real agony began. The drip makes contractions stronger and more frequent and you can't even begin to explain what you'd compare that pain to.

You were sweating.

Crying.

Gripping the sides of the bed and Lando's hand, which at one point you thought you were going to break.

You honestly felt like dying. What was supposed to be the most beautiful experience of your life was quickly turning into a nightmare.

Lando was heartbroken seeing you like this. He was putting cold compresses on you, hugging you, kissing you, comforting you, begging you to endure this.

"I'm so sorry baby, I wish I could go through this instead of you. I'm so sorry."

He didn't leave you for a second, except when you caught a 5-minute break from the contractions and managed to close your eyes for at least a moment and calm down. Lando said he had to go to the bathroom.

He lied actually. Instead he went to the hallway outside your room where his parents were patiently waiting. By the look on his face, Cisca and Adam could see that Lando was not well and that he himself was traumatized.

Lando didn't say anything, he just hugged Cisca and buried his face in her neck, soaking her shoulder with tears.

"I'm so fucking scared for her. It wasn't like this the first time." Lando cried quietly.

"Oh honey, y/n's going to be alright, I promise you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but soon this will pass and you'll be going home with your baby." Cisca comforted trying to lift his spirits. "Honey, you need to get yourself together, alright? She needs you right now and you need to be there for her."

When labor finally began after 14 long hours, you were running out of strength. You were so exhausted that you weren't sure if you would be able to push the baby out.

"Push y/n, push!" The doctor encouraged.

"I c-can't" You cried breathing rapidly. "Lando, I can't do it.."

"Come on baby, you can, I know you can. Just a little bit more and it's done, I promise. You've got this" He was pushing your hair out of your face, holding your hand, and holding your leg at the same time.

"Come on, push, push! I can see the head!"

Finally, the baby's cry was heard and soon the baby boy was on your chest. As soon as you saw him, all the pain instantly vanished.

He was so perfect. So worth it.

Lando couldn't contain his emotions as he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully observing his baby.

Later that day, when everything had calmed down, Lando was still there by your side. He couldn't be separated from you nor did he want to. His gaze shifted between you and the baby watching you both sleep peacefully.

He was tired too. He didn't really remember the last time he slept, but he knew you had it worse than him anyway, so he didn't even think of complaining.

"Lan?"

"Hey, love" His face lit up when you opened your eyes. When he saw you smile, it brought energy back to him. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did, why didn't you?" You asked him when you saw the huge dark circles under his eyes and the same clothes from the day before yesterday. "Baby, please go home, I know you're exhausted too."

"The only way I'm getting out of here is with you two."

You didn't want to argue with him because you knew it was pointless. You were just grateful that he was there and that he was yours.

"My pretty, pretty girl. I'm so proud of you." Lando said softly caressing your cheek and looking into your tired eyes. "I love you so much you know that, right?"

"I know, I can feel it. I love you too, so much." You say before kissing him. "Where are our kids?"

"This little guy is sleeping here without a care in the world."

"And Isla? She didn't come with your parents?"

"No, I told them not to bring her because I knew you'd get too emotional if you saw her, and I wanted you to rest as much as possible."

"You should've told them to bring her, I really miss her and I can't wait for her to meet her brother." You said, but you could still see the worry in Lando's eyes. "I'm fine, Lan, I promise."

"We're done with the kids. Our family is complete now."

"Lan.." You chuckled.

"No, I'm serious. I never want to see you go through so much pain again. It's been so hard to watch you like that and not be able to do anything and I'm not putting you through it again. "

"It was worth it tho. Look at him, he's so perfect. I'd do it all over again for our baby"

"I know, I know, but you're my baby too." No matter how many children you have, his protective attitude towards you will never change.

"Oh, love.." You pulled his hand to get up from the chair and come sit on the bed next to you so you can cuddle up next to him.

"I can't wait to take you home, both of you." He said quietly kissing your forehead.

You rested your head on his chest, knowing that wherever you are, as long as he's there, everything is fine.

[s0dium]

Fucking a curse

Choso x F!Reader

A/n: This is part of my 'Sex' event and collab with other writers!! Please check out the other amazing works here

Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine a curse like Choso could give you the best orgasm of your life Warnings: Rough sex, intense orgasm

~ For a curse, Choso was strangely incredibly attractive. At least that was your first impression of him. His long black stringy hair, tied into two high ponytails that jutted upward and outward, and his small dark purple tired eyes, framed by slightly thin eyebrows, yes, from the moment you laid eyes on him you were smitten. But for someone so breathtaking, Choso's reserved nature served as a stark opposite to his striking appearance. He was fairly quiet, rarely speaking, and often seemed content to observe rather than participate. For a while, he barely seemed to acknowledge you outside of your relationship with Yuji and your crush on him looked painfully one-sided. As a curse, it was easy to assume that he didn't care about you, that your presence was just another detail in his world of silence and observation. it was only natural that you would assume he wanted nothing, or rather, knew, nothing about intimacy. So how... how did you get in this situation? "Hngh...." you whine. Everything was hot, too hot. You dizzily look up, breath catching as you see Choso face hovering above you. His dark brown hair clings to his sweat-dampened skin and his eyes gaze down upon you with such raw dirty need that you feel your stomach twist into knots and your pulse quicken.

You are about to say something, something about how hot you are when suddenly you feel Choso's cock head harshly plunge deep into your entrance, the tip pressing against a part of you that you could only dream about reaching with your fingers. The pleasure of the sudden intrusion is striking, numbing, and borderline painful. It makes you reel unconsciously reel back to escape the foreign feeling, but a large strong hand splays itself over your stomach, not only stopping you but applying delicious pressure above where his dick sat deeply in you. "Can't stay still can you?" Choso's voice comes out breathless, a failed attempt to mask how entirely aroused he is right now. He picks up the pace and leans down until his lips are against the nape of your neck. You whine when you feel soft kisses peppered all over your skin, a shockingly tender yet bold exploration; each nibble and kiss perfectly attuned to your responses, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender. Your cunt flutters and clenches instinctively, sending even more bolts of hot ticklish pleasure to your core. You are too lost in the pleasure to notice that Choso had placed his hand under one of your thighs, lifting the leg until it's pressed against your chest. The new position allows him to go deeper, which you didn't even know was possible at this point.

"Ah- God, you feel like heaven Y/N" Choso groans and throws his head back. You could almost cum just by looking at Choso because god he looks almost ethereal as he thrusts into you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, each muscle in his abdomen tightening rhythmically with every thrust. His lips part slightly, revealing shallow, hurried breaths. The subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple accompanies each pant, his eyes tightly shut, lost in the throes of pleasure.

"I wannaaaa...." You can't even say the last word because you're afraid it might ruin how fucking euphoric you feel right now. If there was a heaven, being fucked by Choso was it. What was even happening right now? Where were you? You feel so much, you feel everything, everywhere, all in this moment, but your mind and your mouth have never been taught to name this sensation.

"Please, Jesus, please y/n do it." Hes almost whining at this point.

"Choso I'm-" You are not even able to finish the sentence because you are already climaxing on his dick. Choso's ministrations don't cease, in fact he speeds up, making the insanely euphoric wave of pleasure crash down on you even harder. Your mind is blank, your thighs are shaking and your back arches of the bed as Choso fucks you through the most pleasurable feeling you have ever experienced.

"Stay with me baby, we are not done yet."

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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[laumier]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⋆ 엔하이픈 hyung line.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: enha x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pwp-ish ?? , swearing , pet names, riding in jake’s, dirty talk, mentions of being in pain, suggestive in hoon’s hc, praises, hickeys, missionary

lala’s note. definitely doing this for atz. also, i got carried away with jake’s.. whoops :p.

⠀⠀⺀ LEE HEESEUNG.

the sun peeked through the beige colored curtains, signaling that it was well past 8am. you and heeseung remained in bed, bodies tangled together under the white sheets along with subtle touches from each other.

he was propped up on his elbow, leaning over you with his lips attached to yours. his hands roaming your body underneath the sheets. the sound of breathing and small moans filled the bedroom as the two of you still had a bit of adrenaline from the night before.

you threw your leg over his, pressing your body closer to his as he deepened the kiss.

“baby,” he whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch.

you hummed in response, somewhat distracted by the way he touched you.

“i need it..” his kisses traveled down to your neck, nibbling here and there. you hissed quietly, trying not to give into him seeing as this would’ve been the 5th time you both went at it.

“hee.. again? can we at least start the day first?” your laugh was cut short with a moan as heeseung found your sensitive spot, sucking a hickey there.

“can’t start the day without my daily honey..” he mumbled. you rolled your eyes when he mentioned the ‘honey’. it was a little name he had given your pussy. you remembered him saying that it was sweet and how sticky in between your legs would get whenever you were aroused.

“hee,” you whined, trying to push him away so you could climb out of bed.

“unhunh,” he protested with a grumble, his arm coming to lock around your waist so that you couldn’t move. he began shuffling his way under the thick duvet, giving you a mischievous smile. you squirmed around until he grabbed ahold of your thighs, holding them in his larger hands.

“just one more taste, baby..”

⠀⠀⺀ PARK JAY.

your back arched off of the bed as jay thrusted into you slow and deep, his length dragging against your soft walls. your moans were soft, but the sound bounced off of the walls making them seem much louder. jay grunted into your neck quietly, rocking his hips at a torturous pace.

the two of you couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, even with how many times you came the night before. jay was infatuated with you, just as you were with him. he wanted to show you that love all over again.

your nails clawed at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist as the stickiness between you both became messier.

“jay,” you gasped as his hips suddenly sped up, brushing against your g-spot. your mouth created an ‘O’ shape as you struggled to get any word out.

jay groaned, shivering when you clenched around him.

“fuck, i love you so much..”

you placed your hands on each side of his face as he picked his head up to look you in the eyes. you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a quick, rough kiss.

jay found himself now pounding into you at a way quicker pace than before. the bed slightly creaked as the headboard hit the wall softly. if he had any self control before, it was definitely all gone now. you were just too irresistible to him.

your hand came down to where you and jay were connected, spreading your folds so jay could have more access. the squelching from your pussy became louder as jay dug deeper and you inched closer to the edge.

“deeper, babe, deeper..” you moaned out, unraveling your legs so you could spread them.

your high pitched whines only fueled jay, his hips now moving like they had a mind of their own.

you both wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon.

⠀⠀⺀ SIM JAKE.

“fuuck, you feel too good,” jake threw his head back, his hands finding their way onto your hips. his long brown strands stuck to his forehead as his sweat dripped.

you lifted your hips up once more, his length sliding out of you, covered with cum and your juices. you took him back inside you, a hoarse moan escaping your mouth as you leaned down, pressing your chest against jake’s.

his hands traveled past your hips, gripping the soft flesh while guiding you up and down on him.

“mhm.. ride that dick like you need it, mama.” he hissed, landing a slap on your ass. you bit your lip, whining as he began thrusting his hips up to help you.

jake stared up at you in awe, eyes lidded and filled with love. he was addicted to you. you were almost like a drug to him. he was hooked.

“ja..jake,” you mewled. he didn’t respond at first, distracted by the way you moved against him. he shuttered, a whiny moan escaping his plump lips.

“jake.. i have… t-to get ready..”

he panted, shaking his head. he picked up the pace, your ass now slapping his thighs.

“nah.. just need you here with me..”

you began to slouch against him as you continued to whine. you tried to protest but your body still gave into him. your hips instinctively moved against his, giving you more pleasure.

he landed another harsh slap against your ass, earning a whimper from you.

“need you to cum all over me, baby.. keep putting that pretty pussy on me,”

jake’s words seemed to give you a sudden rush of adrenaline, making you forget about the shift you had in an hour.

⠀⠀⺀ PARK SUNGHOON.

you opened your eyes to see sunghoon’s back facing you as he sat on his side of the bed, probably still trying to wake himself up. you reached out, running your hand up his back, causing him to jump a bit.

you ran your nails down his back lightly, watching the goosebumps appear on his skin. he licked his lips, your touch bringing memories back from the sleepless night that you both had.

you sat up, the blanket falling of of your body as you moved to sit behind him. your hands traveled from his back to in front of him, sliding them down his chest slowly.

“g’morning..” your voice came out in a raspy whisper as you placed your lips right by his ear. you planted a kiss behind it, making your way down to his neck and shoulder.

he tilted his head to the side, giving you more access. your hands continued their actions, their movements causing sunghoon’s face to heat up. he was enjoying this too much.

“mornin’,” he mumbled, quietly hissing after, your kisses and nibbles making him weak.

your continued your wet kisses, making his breath hitch. he would’ve turned around and laid you out on the bed right then and there but he had things planned for the day. ‘things’ meaning his very demanding job.

“what’s planned for today?” you asked, your voice low and seductive.

sunghoon’s hand came to grab yours from his chest, bringing it to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to it.

“the usual. whatever the mangers have on the schedule.”

you hummed in response, hardly listening to whatever he said. you only wanted him and his body against yours so it was hard for you to focus on anything else.

“stay home, baby..”

“what?” he chuckled lightly.

“tell them you can’t make it..” you began kissing down his neck again, this time in all his weakest spots. your hands wandered all over him, making it hard for him to say no.

“y/n..—“

“please, hoonie? just want you to myself today.” your whiny tone was starting to turn sunghoon on. he exhaled, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

“you’re lucky i love you.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦.

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ and ALMOST BREAKING UP

ot8 x gn reader

summary: you’re in a relationship and one of you (or both) want to break up.

tw: angst (insecurities, arguments, reader flinches sometimes but it’s not violence) but with happy endings because i am weak + fluff + slight nsfw in mingi’s + alcohol in jongho’s.

a/n: i got carried away with yeosang’s and jongho’s my apologies 🙏 rqs are open btw! (also i promise i’m working on ateez stuck in the friendzone part 2 but i have this scheduled for today)

HONGJOONG

you stared at hongjoong in bewilderment. he was sitting down in front of you, with tears in his eyes that threatened to spill if he blinked. he looked so… fragile. as if one single word or touch from you could break him. yet you sat there, with confusion painted all over your face.

“i’m sorry, what?” you asked.

“i think we need to break up” he whispered, as a tear rolled down his cheek and looked away. so you didn’t hear wrong.

“i don’t agree” you said, taking his hand in yours. “what brought you this thought?” you asked, making him look down. you waited a few moments, not wanting to pressure him into talking. then, hongjoong lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it.

“i’m always busy, we haven’t seen each other in a while and i take too long to reply to your texts” he explained. “you deserve someone who is always there for you”

“but don’t i get a say in this? i knew what i was getting into when we started seeing each other” you started saying as you scooted closer to him, in order to lift up his face to look at you. once your eyes interlocked, you cradled his face and continued: “yeah it sucks not being able to see you as much as i wished to, but also it’s not like i’m unhappy. i cherish the small moments we spend together, it makes me eager for the next one”

“but-“ he started saying, but you interrupted him with a kiss. at first, hongjoong sat still, surprised by your sudden actions, but then he kissed you right back. “no buts joong, we are not breaking up. i love you and i still want this. i still want you” you whispered against his lips, reassuringly.

he nodded in response, believing you.

SEONGHWA

“can we talk for a moment?” you asked seonghwa, who immediately felt his blood run cold at the question. he dropped his phone and studied your face: you looked sad, tired even.

realization struck him as quick as alighting: you’ve been avoiding his kisses for at least two days now, and he’s been brushing it off thinking you were just in a weird mood. i mean, yes it bothered him, but he also loved you too much to not give you space if you needed it. he always wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. but maybe he was wrong about that?

“is something wrong, my love?” he asked with a shaky voice as he took your hand in his. he chose to ignore the way you slightly flinched at his touch, or else his heart would break even more.

“i think-“ you started saying, looking down at your intertwined hands. his hold was gentle, as he always has been. kind, gentle, beautiful, all things you were not. “i think we should take a break”.

you looked up to him, and immediately regretted it: tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill, while his lips were parted, probably trying to think of what to say. the scene completely broke you, and further proved your point about your insecurities.

“did i do something wrong?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to speak louder without breaking. your eyebrows furrowed, how could he think that when he’s been nothing but perfect in every way? “if i did i’m sorry y/n, i’ll change, but please don’t leave me”

you hugged him tightly, hiding his face on your neck as he sobbed. you didn’t realize you started crying too. “i’m sorry baby, you didn’t do anything wrong” you started saying after a while, pulling him back and cradling his face “it’s me, it’s all me and it has always been me. i’m the problem and i’m always holding you back, i’m sorry hwa”

“holding me back? what do you mean? baby you’re my motivation” seonghwa said, wiping away your tear with his thumbs. “but-“ you started saying, only to be interrupted by him:

“no, don’t ever say that again. you’re my star, y/n”.

YUNHO

normally, you would find yunho’s angry face hot, but now that it’s directed at you? not so much. not when he’s staring at you like you’re a waste of time and space, which only made your anger bubble up more.

“don’t just sit and stare at me! can you please give me a response? it’s not hard yunho” you exclaimed, earning a big eye roll from him “it’s a simple yes or no question: were you flirting with them?”

“god y/n you can be so annoying! no i wasn’t flirting, but now i wish i was so i could have a valid excuse to not see you again!” yunho yelled, standing up abruptly from his seat, making you take a step back unconsciously. this action didn’t go unnoticed by him, quickly realizing that surprise took over your face for a moment, before turning back to anger.

“if you don’t want to see me again then let’s just break up. i’m setting you free yunho” you said in anger, contrasting the way your eyes started watering.

you turned around in order to leave, not wanting him to see you cry, but he grabbed your hand, stopping you. when you turned around, you saw that his hard expression had softened, anger slowly dissipating.

“wait, don’t leave” he started saying “i’m sorry, i wasn’t thinking straight when i said what i said. i love you, i didn’t flirt with them and i don’t want you to leave”

yunho’s eyes silently begged you to forgive him, as he brought you closer to him slowly, testing the waters. when he realized you weren’t going to move away, he wrapped his arms around you. “i’m truly sorry baby, please don’t leave. i love you”.

you cried softly on his chest, as he thought of ways to make you forgive him completely. he refused to let you go.

YEOSANG

“i think this should end, y/n” he said suddenly, making you turn around in your spot at the kitchen. you looked at him confused, tea cups still on your hand.

“you mean the habit of us having tea together before bed?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. yeosang stood up from the coach, and approached you slowly as you took notice of his sad face. “you know what i mean” he whispered once he reached you.

you shook your head “no, actually i don’t. is this about the argument earlier? i forgave you already, it’s all good yeo i promise” you replied quickly, setting the tea cups aside and proceeding to hold his arms. yeosang stared at you, it seems like he was about to cry as well, becoming all too real.

it’s rare for you to argue honestly, often choosing to just talk things out calmly. but earlier that day, ‘talking’ seemed impossible, as constant yelling filled the room. yeosang had promised, once again, to take you out on a date to celebrate your anniversary (two weeks and a half ago), but due to his idol duties he cancelled again. you have had enough, so things escalated rather quickly, making him leave your shared home with a loud shut of the door.

thing is, hours later yeosang showed up with a small bouquet of flowers and asked for forgiveness. he also explained to you how overwhelmed he felt at the moment with all the upcoming comeback preparations. you understood him obviously, and decided it would be better to just move the date until after promotions.

so everything was fine, all forgiven. what brought this now? “baby we barely see each other, except late at night like right now” he started saying, biting his lip so he could stop the tears from spilling out “you deserve someone better”.

“yeosang you are the ‘better’ you’re refereing to! i don’t want anyone else” you answered, hugging him. “i just want you, all of you, even with your weird and long schedules. i still want to feel your kiss on my cheek every time you leave and i still want to have tea with you late at night”

yeosang kissed you, pouring his whole soul and love in it as he held you impossibly closer than before. after a while, he reluctantly broke it, face still close to yours.

“i’m sorry, i love you” he whispered.

SAN

“no” he said, shaking his head as he looked at you with an unreadable expression “no, we’re not breaking up”

“but-“ you started to argue, kind of getting annoyed at the way he dismissed your previous statement. it’s been a week since fans started suspecting of your relationship, after a sasaeng had caught you at a restaurant celebrating your first anniversary. the media was going wild, even going as far as searching up your socials and sending malicious messages, all telling you to break up with san and that you’re harming his idol image.

“i said no, baby” he said, kissing your cheek and taking your hand, leading you to the bedroom “let’s go to bed”

“san! i’m about to ruin your career, i can’t just brush it off like it’s nothing! we need to break up, or at least take a break until everything calms down” you exclaimed, taking your hand back. san stared at you, face still unreadable but with some traces of hurt evident in his eyes. he took your hands again.

“you’re not going to ruin my career, love” he started saying, holding your hands tighter as if he was scared of letting go “kq’s management is handling it, they assured me everything will be fine because the angle of the photo didn’t show my face, and the couple behind us hid my body as well, so it’s not noticeable that it’s me”

you thought for a moment. truth is, you love san way too much to bring him harm, as small as possible it may be. he knew this, but his reasoning made sense. for all the media knows, the guy in the picture could be a lookalike.

“please” he said, barely above a whisper. you nodded, kissing his lips reassuringly. it’s going to be okay.

MINGI

the room felt heated, despite the different pieces of clothing that have been mindlessly discarded all over the place. mingi’s mouth never left yours, tongue entering your mouth as if it was it’s second home. his hands were everywhere: massaging your chest, holding your waist, playing with your ass, caressing your thighs. you felt him everywhere, all at once.

“we should really break things off” he said, in between kisses. you nodded, letting out a small moan when his lips found your neck. “definitely” you managed to say.

you and mingi have been arguing a lot recently, sometimes over silly small things like laundry or house chores, and other times the argument would revolve around hin forgetting important dates or your stubbornness to remember that he is an idol and is, of course, busy.

mingi’s hands went back to your ass, slapping it lightly and making you jump. he proceeded to hold your thighs, pulling you up to his height as he pressed you against the wall. he kissed you again, desperately and deeply.

“min-“ you started saying, or attempted to say since his lips made it near impossible. he bit your lip in response. “mingi”

he hummed against your lips. “this is not what breaking up means” you managed to say, pulling the back of his hair lightly but enough to make hin groan. “i know, but what if it is for us? i know you’ll miss this, miss me. now hold tight” he answered, unbucking his belt as you held on him tightly to not fall while he maneuvered with his pants.

once he was done, and pressed you harder against the wall, your trail of thought immediately disappeared. if it was a good or bad decision, or something that would become cyclical, that would be a problem for the future.

WOOYOUNG

“we should break up” you said, as a matter of fact. you stood in front of him, arms crossed as a serious expression adorned your face. wooyoung, in contrast, was sitting on your shared bed, mindlessly scrolling through social media. he didn’t even bother to look up.

“and why do you think that, baby?” he asked, still not looking at you, which caused your eye to twitch slightly. “exactly because of things like this wooyoung! i’m trying to break up with you and you don’t even care!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air dramatically.

wooyoung blocked his phone and set it aside, sitting up straight in the process. his eyes found yours, probably trying to decipher how you were feeling. “are there any other reasons?”

“you don’t have time for me-“ you replied. “i still see you every night unless i’m on tour, and even in that circumstance i call every day” he interrupted. “okay, but you also never help me around the house” you argued. “baby, i literally cook half of your meals”.

“but-“ you started saying, only to be interrupted once again by wooyoung: “see? no reasons, no break up” he said, patting your head and returning to his phone.

“you’re impossible” you said, sitting beside him with your arms still crossed against your chest. wooyoung kissed your cheek “i know, but you love me nonetheless. plus i know this was an attempt to prank me as revenge for last time”

your eyes widened in surprise.

“HOW?!”

JONGHO

you might have taken a few too many drinks at tonight’s night out with your friends, so they had to call your boyfriend jongho to come and pick you up. thankfully, he answered quickly and said he would be there in 10.

“noooo you called jongho?” you asked, tipsily as you grabbed your friend’s hand that was holding your phone. “he has to wake up early tomorrow! he shouldn’t be driving around, he has to rest!”

“someone has to get you home, babe! plus he seemed fine, i promise” your friend answered in between giggles watching you pout.

once you spot jongho, your whole face lit up involuntarily, as if it was a reflex. once he reached your table, he hugged you from behind, pecking your cheek. “thanks for calling me and taking care of her” he told your friends. you clumsily bid your goodbyes to your friends and turned to jongho, ready to go.

“you shouldn’t have come, jongs” you started saying as he buckled up your belt in the passenger seat. “you have a long day tomorrow”

“it’s no problem baby, i couldn’t sleep anyways” he said, jogging back to the driver’s seat. you looked at him, thoughtful expression on your face for a few moments. “what?” he asked, chuckling as he drove the car out of the parking lot.

“you weren’t able to sleep because i was out? or because you weren’t feeling tired?” you asked, curiously. for someone who was terribly drunk, you sure got philosophical. add that to the long list of things jongho finds endearing about you.

“little bit of both i guess” he answered, stopping at a red light. you stayed quiet, strangely so, which caused jongho to turn his face to you to check if you fell asleep. but you weren’t. instead, you looked at him with tears in your eyes. “baby? what’s wrong?” he said, slightly panicking, not caring that the light turned green. since it was late at night, his car was the only one there at the moment.

“i’m a burden to you” you concluded, tears rolling down your cheeks “i’m holding you back and you should leave me”. huh?!?!

“baby, what are you talking about?” he asked in confusion, before frantically holding your face and wiping your tears away with kisses. “you always appear to save the day jongs, and i do nothing in return” you whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

“you do more than you realize, y/n” he said, kissing you once more. “but you’re drunk, and i know nothing i’ll say will stick in this state. so let’s talk about it tomorrow, yes?”

“promise?” you asked, in a tiny voice. “i promise” he reassured.

[2tarbell]

NOW — KOOK!READER

rafe always decides when the party’s over…

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

“oh my fuckin’ god! i love this song—!”

the night was young and yours… or at least that’s what you thought.

in reality, it was well past 1 am but the crowd was as lively as ever. drinks and other substances flowing almost endlessly. you had been wasted since at least midnight, and weren’t ready to stop just yet.

dancing with your girls, batting hazy eyes at rafe kook boys, glittering smile and necklace enticing everyone. you were the life of the party all in pink.

rafe was paying attention to you the most, though. after all, you did arrive together; it was his responsibility to keep an eye on your twirling form as your best friend. so he spent the night leaning against the wall, only turning away to snort a line or two. talking passively with topper and kelce about whatever the fuck. doin’ nothing that would get him too fucked up. nah, you were sloshed enough for the both of you. he’s just surprised you haven’t broken an ankle in those ridiculous kitten heels.

he didn’t want to, as you’ve said before, ‘dull your sparkle’. but rafe felt his patience wearing thin at the sight of a dick in a polo letting his hand rest just too close to the edge of your skirt. he was painfully sober and made up his mind when you giggled and placed a hand on the guys chest. time to go.

“yo, rafe, what about—“

“figure it out, top. got shit t’do.”

they’d for sure get on his ass about ditching them, but rafe didn’t give a fuck. trying to intercept the douche who’s obviously gotta be stupid to try anything with you. you’re stupider for encouraging it. it’s like you never learn.

you felt him before you saw him; a large hand curling around your hipbone, yanking you back. a slurred giggle fell from your glossed lips before you realized what was going on. your smile quickly turned into a pout when you heard rafe shooing the guy away.

maybe he was a bit sleazy and immature, but you were grown and if you had wanted to sleep with him, whose business was it but your own? obviously rafes.

“nah, she’s not interested, man. get lost—“

you huffed dramatically, trying to wiggle away from your taller friend. this wasn’t the first time he’s cockblocked you.

before you could protest, the frat guy was stumbling off, having lost interest at having to put up a fight. if the pussy wasn’t easily attainable, they never stuck around. not at these parties anyways.

your jaw was dropped, brows furrowed in annoyance. a whine fell from your mouth, “rafe!”

“ladies— time to go, doll face. now.”

you whined again incoherently. he only hummed, smiling charmingly at your girlfriends. they only swooned and giggled to each other, it made you scowl. you turn and push him back, or try to. but your manicured hand only puts a little pressure on his chest, you too drunk and rafe too strong. his dumb little smirk lighting a spark low in your abdomen, something you felt often when looking at him. but mostly, you felt drunk petulance.

“you cunt—“

“hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth, yeah? dunno who y’think you’re talkin’ to right now—” rafe held tight to your arm, leaning down and speaking right up against your ear. it made goosebumps raise and you couldn’t help but lean into him, resting a hand on his chest.

focus!

“why’d you do that? i liked him!” you complained, stomping a foot in emphasis.

his scoff irritated you to no end, almost like he didn’t realize that he ruined your chances of getting laid. again. or maybe he just didn’t care.

“yeah? sure you did, princess.”

“i did! y’not my boyfriend, ‘m allowed to—”

you were so cute, really. it’s why rafe let you whine and bitch to him, why he kept you around. but times like this, he really wished you used your head more. he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you’re not his girlfriend, but what did that have to do with anything?

“—and he liked your tits. probably wouldn’t have lasted long anyways. so— so, i did you a favor. yeah. how about a ‘thank you, rafe’? that’s not in your vocabulary, though, huh?”

his voice was scolding as he dragged you through the crowd of people. you struggled, wanting to stay and continue to enjoy the attention and festivities — someone’s birthday, you didn’t actually care about the details.

once rafe had you secluded in a hallway by the front door, you made a show of pushing him away. crossing your arms, breasts bulging through the pink ‘ALL THIS (and brains too).’ crop top you wore. rafe flickered his eyes down quickly, licking his lips before speaking in that familiar low drawl.

“don’t go throwin’ a fit, ‘m not in the mood.”

“but, rafe—“

“but, rafe—” he mocked you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “shut up, yeah?”

you glared up at him. who did he think he was? ruining your fun night like it was second nature. the worst part was, it was starting to become the norm. you couldn’t party without rafe coming in and sweeping you away, leaving an uncomfortably warm tingle in your heart.

he watched you, watched the haze of your eyes, the way they flit about all unfocused. you were so drunk. but still looked so pretty.

“we’re goin’ home, ‘kay? party’s over. so, i’ll give you a choice… mine or yours?”

rafe felt the moment you tensed up in preparation to whine. his hand held your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and prompting a squeak from your pink lips.

“…mine or yours? don’t make me pick for you.” his voice sent a chill down your spine. you bit your lip, feeling drunker under his unwavering gaze. eyes cementing you in place and making you feel so small.

“yours…” a whisper, barely audible. but rafe heard it and he smirked. god, that smirk.

he leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to your puckered lips, something he only did briefly and in the moments either of you were too intoxicated to ever bring it up again. ‘s’what best friends do, princess’ he’d say. but they didn’t. you both knew that. rafe pulled back with a smack, grinning at the way you leaned up for more.

“atta girl. not so hard, huh? c’mon.”

the walk to his truck with his hand on the back of your neck, leading you forward put you further into a daze. a warm, fuzzy version of you only rafe could bring out. not for long though, half the fun was in the tick of his jaw and narrowing blue eyes.

it wasn’t until he had you buckled in the passenger side seat, putting the large truck in reverse and resting a hand on the back of your seat, that you looked over at him. he was focused on backing out and you felt heat all over your body.

“hate you…”

his half hearted laugh made you smile, you looked out the window to quell the rapid beat of your heart. you had always liked his laugh.

one hand stayed on the wheel when he turned back to the front, the other resting on your thigh, where the hem of your miniskirt ended.

“yeah? you, uh— you wanted to go home with that asshole?”

you giggled lazily, feeling sleep pull at your eyelids. your head shakes from the quiet laughter, perfectly styled hair now frizzed up with fly aways. your french tipped fingers rested on top of his, squeezing playfully.

“mhm, jus’ wanted him to rip my clothes off and—“

“okay, okay, knock it off.” his voice was a gruff mumble, almost leaving you in stitches. it was almost too easy, rafe hated when you talked about boys. absolutely despised it and the way it made his skin crawl. you leaned against his arm, nuzzling into the firmness of his bicep, tits pressed against him.

rafe looked over at you, rolling his eyes and turning his hand to interlace your fingers gently. the words he whispered coming from a place of simultaneous adoration and exasperation, but you missed them, already snoozing lightly.

“fuckin’ brat…”

[defmaybe]

mirrorball

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

1.4k words

Inspired by Taylor Swift's mirrorball

A/N: This Wonyoung really makes me go :dentt:. Also, thanks to a half of @k-dgn for beta-reading!!! Thanks for reading y'all! Oh, and this one doesn't have pegging (or mentions of it) lmao.

—

Taylor Swift’s mirrorball echoes through the locker room. It’s quiet, except from where two souls are struggling to tear each other’s clothes off. Your hearts are beating fast, and they’re killing you.

“Why the fuck–ugh–is this dress so tight, Wonyoung?”

“It’s prom, baby–mmph. I can’t just go with a tee with jeans and call it a day.”

“That’s not the question.”

“And I don’t give a–mmph–fuck,” Wonyoung says, peppering pecks on your neck. You keep jolting and jolting in response. Her hands are a tangled mess on your buttons.

You’ve been trying for a few minutes now, but her zipper just won’t come off. She pauses her kisses to chuckle now and then, watching you embroiled in the predicament. Still, even with her looking down on you like this, she’s still drop dead gorgeous.

“Let me?” Wonyoung finally asks. You’re panting in exhaustion. Fuck, why is this so hard?

“Yeah, I–I’ll just–fuck–take off my clothes.” You take a step back, throwing the jacket away to god knows where, before unbuttoning your waistcoat hastily, hands trembling. Wonyoung is also reaching for her back, unlocking the otherworldly strong zipper—too bad you aren’t going to see her in this beautiful white dress for a while, at least until you finish with her. Still, there are those pretty eyes and those pouty lips to compensate for the lack of an ethereal garment.

And you realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long.

“Hey.”

You’re snapped out of her hypnosis.

“Are we fucking or not?” Wonyoung asks, chuckling as you’ve been gawking at her.

“Y–Yeah, it’s just–uh–”

“Thanks,” she replies with a smile, a genuine one. “I’m more than just face, of course, but thanks.”

You smile back, before returning to unbuttoning your coat. It comes off much easier. You can feel your heartbeat decelerating. Wonyoung’s dress is also coming off, revealing her firm chest beneath it. Her long, slender legs come into view, and you just can’t help but stare at them.

“Fuck,” you utter in awe of her body. That hourglass shape. Those curves. Those contours. Fuck is the right word.

“You’re quite a catch too, you know?” she playfully points at your bulge, still pants and a shirt away to be naked.

You chuckle. “T–Thanks.”

A few more garments are down and you’re now bare in front of this goddess. She’s left with her panties, her small breasts resting on her chest. 

“God, I just wanna–”

“Eat me? Devour me? I’ve heard all of that, baby. Now if you’d just fuck me with that cock,” Wonyoung says, licking her lips.

Bloody hell. “Come on, Wonyoung.”

A giggle escapes her lips.

You take a step towards her. Your faces are just a hot breath away from each other. You can feel your heartbeat accelerating again. You’re lost in each other’s eyes.

Without a word, Wonyoung pulls you into a burning kiss, legs tangled to remove her panties for you. You feel her pouty lips resting on yours. Her tongue invades your mouth ever so masterfully, drawing breathless moans out of you. Her hands grip onto the back of your neck tightly, not wanting to let you leave her in the dark with Taylor Swift alone. She moans and moans into your mouth. Your hands move towards her firm breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, and both of you let out a satisfied hum at the touch.

“Shit,” she says, muffled by the kiss.

You don’t want to let this moment go—bare, kissing under the faint moonlight from the outside. Your hands are wandering around each other’s body. Your moans are sealed within the searing kiss. You pin Wonyoung against the locker, not wanting to let her leave you in the dark with Taylor Swift alone.

It feels like an eternity before she pulls herself back from your lips—flushed. Her breaths come out as pants.

“That–That felt great,” Wonyoung says, breathlessly.

“I know.”

Suddenly, Wonyoung flips the position between you two. You’re now the one pinned on the locker doors, locked within her embrace. She’s looking at you predatorily—determined, eager, lustful.

“Ready?” she asks, tilting her head a little.

You nod.

She steps back, before settling herself on the bench behind her. She gestures her finger as a signal.

“Fuck me.”

You take a step towards her body, lining up your cock with her wet slit.

“Ready?”

She nods.

And you push yourself into her cunt. She welcomes you with her tightness, as both of you moan on the entry. You watch your cock slowly disappearing, inch by inch, into her. Wonyoung’s deep moans are nothing short of angelic. You can just listen to this all day long.

“You’re so tight, Wonyoung,” you grunt, lost in the throes of pleasure she’s giving you.

“T–Thanks, y–you’re big too, you know? Ha–Hah.”

Her wet cunt grips you tightly. The insides of her are hugging you so well. She’s blushing uncontrollably, and so do you. You’re absolutely trembling with excitement right now, as her tightness grips you like a vice. You hear her breaths come out shallowly. Her hands are gripping onto the bench tightly.

You push yourself to the limit that your cock can give, before languidly pulling out of her wetness. She feels so damn good, and you wish that you can just do this forever.

Slowly, you find your rhythm with her. The movement becomes more mechanical, like a clockwork. You’re setting a pace in sliding in and out of her cunt now. She feels even better like this. You’re drawing moans and moans out of her lips. Her hand starts to rub her sensitive clit now—so eager to cum with you.

You cannot fathom the feeling you’re experiencing right now. Her pussy feels too good to be true. She’s smiling as your shaft slides in and out of her, happy to be stuffed with a cock. Her breasts heave with the movement.

Her eyes stare into yours with unbridled need. 

“W–Wonyoung.”

“Hmm, y–yes?”

“C–Can I cum on your face?”

Wonyoung bursts out a laugh. “Only if you kiss me after. I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”

You then seal your lips with hers, invading her wanting mouth with your tongue. You bite her bottom lip softly, drawing out a moan out of her. She bites your bottom lip back ever so softly, matching your gentleness. Below, you’re still giving the same roughness she craves, thrusting into her wanton cunt with no abandon.

After an eternity, you two both come up for the much-needed breath outside of the kiss. You see her face becomes all flushed after the kiss, bringing out a chuckle from you.

You pull your cock out of her wanton cunt, using your hand to relieve the pent-up pressure. Wonyoung kneels, sticking her tongue out lewdly, making a sound, while her hand is rubbing her swollen clit furiously. What a sight.

“Come on, paint my face. Think of it as a canvas or something,” she says.

You can feel it, that all-so-familiar feeling building up in your lower stomach. Your thighs tense up, ready to blow the load on her gorgeous face. The wave is coming. It’s going to crash into you, and you’re so fucking ready to welcome it.

“Do you need encouragement, baby boy?”

And with that word, you give in. Your cock shoots spurts of cum onto her face. Your vision turns white. Wonyoung moans as her orgasm hits at the same time, eyes fluttering in ecstasy. Her whole body jerks and shakes with you. Fuck, you’re going to remember this forever.

Your cum lands on her forehead, between the plump lips inside her mouth, on her perfectly sculpted nose, on her rosy cheeks. Some even land on her tits. She’s happy to take it all.

“Good boy, good fucking boy,” says Wonyoung with her cum-smeared face. She picks up a portion of it from her reddened cheeks with her slender fingers, before having a taste.

“Yum.”

She then stands up before staring into your eyes. She looks so damn breathtaking like this.

“D–Do you need anything else, Wonyoung?” you stammer out.

“I was promised a kiss, pretty boy, after you painted me like your goddamn canvas,” Wonyoung says.

Again, her tongue invades your mouth relentlessly. Her pouty lips rest on yours, and the wet sounds of kissing rings in your ear. Your hands move onto her pert breasts. Her grip on your neck becomes tighter.

“So good,” says Wonyoung, muffled.

She then breaks off the searing kiss, blushing, breaths coming in ragged.

“We’re going to have to do this again.”

“Definitely, or maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

You laugh, before sealing her lips again with a kiss.

—