#there’s no fleeing from his gaze so why would he be worried?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

You once said kitsune!geto wouldn't care about u running away cuz you'll be back and like, yeak makes sense why he'd feel that way, but what if....what if you like ghost him? What if you ghost him with the context of you already having a partner as well?

truth is he simply isn’t phased by anything you do because he believes you were made for him in every way. i’ve said this before but he wouldn’t exactly mind you having a partner (even if it’s distasteful to him), he just . views them as a past time of yours lmao. a pet. they’re insignificant to him. and it’s basically impossible to ghost him because he’ll just seek you out himself. he’s never far away. there’s no getting rid of him, in this lifetime or the next <3

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (6)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst, brief mention of an abortion

a/n: guess what everyone here’s another chapter ahhh!!! Love you 🫶

Read part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (part five bonus) | part seven

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Your breath left you, lungs emptying of every comfort until they felt tight and constrained. You might have made a sound—might have gaped as Azriel’s eyes darted across every square inch of your face to gauge a reaction. 

Mate. 

Had he said—

“What?” you finally choked out. 

Azriel shook his head with a pained furrow of his brow. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” His hands steadied as they cradled your cheeks—stability in a time of utter confusion. “But I had to, y/n. You… I needed you to understand why I care so much. Why I want you to let me care. Why you…” 

His words trailed off. 

Something compelled you to reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrists. You stared into his eyes with nothing to offer him but the uncertainty and poorly disguised hope edging considerably closer to the surface. 

“Why I what, Azriel?” 

Azriel licked his lips before he spoke, mouth dry at the prospect of the conversation. “Why you can tell me. Everything. You can trust me with everything there is to know about you and Melanie. I wouldn’t—I would protect the both of you. Over anything.” 

You felt a piece of you deflate. Azriel’s fingers slightly spasmed against your skin as your shoulders slumped. 

“You can’t promise me that, Azriel,” you sullenly replied. “You work for the High Lord. You can’t promise me you would keep things from him for my benefit. I can’t trust that—” 

“Y/n, you are my mate,” Azriel emphasized, eyes wide and pleading. “I know you can’t feel it yet within you but it has been carved into my chest from the moment we locked eyes. The way the bond pulls each time I see you—the way it screams at me to keep you safe. I can’t…” 

His words broke off as he spoke them—cracked and fractured and desperate. 

Azriel cleared his throat and started over. 

“There are two things you should know. First, the High Lord and Lady—Rhysand and Feyre—they would never do anything to put you in danger.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Azriel gently spoke over the rebuttal. “They would never. They do not even know you but you are my mate. As an extension, you are their family. Whatever it is you are running from, they would go to lengths to run with you.” 

“You can’t promise—” 

“I can. And I am. Because the second thing you should know is that I have waited for my mate for centuries. I have dreamed of you and wanted you and I don’t know if that scares you but I hope it can be some consolation.” 

The kitchen lulled into a silence punctuated by your heaving breaths, the unsteady sound countering Azriel’s flickering wings as he stood before you. You had no words for him, nothing to rectify the worried way he captured your gaze with his own. 

Your instinct fought against everything he said. 

To put all of your trust into Azriel—all of it. To make him an integral part of Melanie’s life, of yours. 

Could you? Was being his mate enough? You didn’t feel the pull yet, the indescribable ache that caused the desperation on Azriel’s face. 

“—and,” Azriel’s voice was low but startling as his eyes shifted to land on the wall behind your head. “It’s not just the bond. It’s you. I care about you, y/n. I care about Mel. I can’t go back to acting so casual about that. I want to be all in with two of you. My life has… it’s changed. It’s different now, because of you.” 

He found your eyes again.

Something shifted in your chest, but it didn’t snap. 

You wanted him to be all in, but something still needed to be aligned. 

You had heard stories about mates in the past—about mates that had children before the bond had made itself known. The stories did not end well and they certainly did not match the pleading way Azriel held you or the hopeful pool of hazel that his eyes had dipped into. 

“What about Melanie?” you whispered, squeezing his wrist with your fingers because although he had included her in all of his pinings, you needed to hear him say it. 

Azriel adjusted his stance and blinked at you as if you were speaking another language. “What about Melanie, angel?” 

His soft-spoken endearment was like a punch to the gut. “W-Would you love her the same? Even though she isn’t yours? I’ve heard what can happen with—” 

“I don’t care about that—I’ve never cared. I can’t imagine looking at her and not loving her, y/n. She is so much of you.” 

A loaded breath left you as you leaned forward and rested your forehead on Azriel’s collar. You were still sick, still exhausted, and this overwhelming display of affection and devotion was filling you more than you thought you could handle. You released your hold on his wrists to bunch your fists into the front of his shirt. Azriel acted instantly, one hand coming to the back of your head while the other rested along your back. 

“I want to trust you,” you promised. “I do. It just might take time. I can’t—I don’t think I can tell you yet. I don’t know why, I just—” 

“I know, y/n. You don’t have to tell me. Just… just let me in. Let me be here.” 

~~

The rest of the day moved slowly. 

Azriel stayed. 

When Melanie woke up from her nap, a walk was introduced, Azriel proclaiming that the group had spent entirely too much time inside and fresh air was needed to fight the remaining sickness. That suggestion was met with a raised brow from Melanie who argued that sleep was supposed to be what made us better, Mr. Azriel. Why do you keep changing it?

You had watched the interaction with new eyes; the way she squinted up at him with a skeptical gaze and the way he stared down at her with a smile so wide it looked as if it hurt. Did he smile that broadly all the time? You hardly saw him in any public context, so it was difficult to know. 

You doubted he did. 

He smiled at you the same way when you teased him for Melanie’s benefit. 

The walk was soothing and beautiful and Azriel had wrapped two scarves around Melanie’s neck before he let her get out the door. She had huffed and pointed at his own neck, frustrated that he wasn’t wearing a scarf, but his shadows answered for him as they whisked around Melanie’s eyes and turned her around. 

As she giggled, Azriel shrugged a jacket over your shoulders. 

“It’s not that cold, you know,” you commented later as footsteps echoed along cobblestone. “I don’t know if she needed both scarves.” 

“Can’t be too careful. Wouldn’t want her to get more sick.” 

“We aren’t that kind of sick, Az.” 

“I know.” He tore his gaze from Melanie and directed it towards you. “But I can’t do anything about Autumn fever. I can, however, make sure the two of you don’t catch a cold.” 

You pressed your lips inwards and breathed through the fluttering in your chest as he looked upon you. His gaze was unabashedly admiring and you couldn’t remember if he’d looked at you like that before he’d told you you were mates, or if he had been holding himself back before. 

“I am from the Autumn Court,” you thought to say, if only to quell some of the strange feeling in your chest. “Although, you already knew that. Your healer kind of gave it away.” 

“You don’t have to—” 

“I want to,” you interrupted. You looked out towards Melanie as you skirted along the Sidra, your daughter kneeling by the shore to look in at the fish. “Maybe not all of it at once. But for now, I’m from the Autumn Court. I came to Velaris when I found out I was pregnant.” 

You shoved your hands into the pocket of the jacket Azriel had placed on your shoulders. You realized it wasn’t yours when your knuckles swam in the space. And the scent of night-kissed air delicately wafted up.

Azriel said nothing as you collected your thoughts. He simply watched Melanie giggle and dip her fingers in the water. 

“Um, I came under duress, obviously. The circumstances of my pregnancy weren’t exactly optimal and there were several people that would have been… more than upset that I was pregnant.” 

“What does that mean—upset?” 

“Several things. They could have taken Melanie from me, made me end the pregnancy when I didn’t want to, sent me into hiding for shame. I didn’t stick around to find out which horror-fueled thought would come to fruition.” 

“Is that who you’re running from?” 

You tilted your head to the side as a light breeze swept past your skin. Azriel was already looking at you with an intensity that felt out of place compared to the joyful laughs that flowed from the child by the water. But that was good, you reminded yourself, you were keeping her away from all of these harsh realities for as long as possible. 

“Yes.”

“Can I ask—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. Your tone wasn’t mean or harsh; it was exhausted. “You can't ask who or why—not yet. I haven’t actually said any of those names aloud since I left. That part might… take me a while.” 

“That’s okay,” Azriel softly reassured. He took a half step towards you, hesitated, but then fought against that and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his chest. “I just need to know what I’m up against. If you think they know where you are or if they’re still looking for you.” 

Melanie had begun throwing rocks into the Sidra, the sound of the stones plopping into the water mingling with silence and birds chirping. 

“I don’t think they know where I am,” you mumbled into his chest. It was so easy to stay there. “But I think they’re still looking. I don’t think they’ll stop.” 

You felt Azriel’s lips press against the crown of your head. His chin found a home there as you both shifted to watch Melanie. 

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine.” 

“Is it? You didn’t exactly sign up for this.” 

“I signed up for you. Whatever that entails.” 

A calm silence washed over the scene by the Sidra. Azriel brought his other arm around to hold you closer to his chest and you let him, seamlessly sinking into his hold. Melanie was none the wiser to the conversations behind her as she began dropping sticks and leaves into the water. 

Azriel kissed your hair once more. 

“It could be safer—“ Azriel began, words laced with reproach. “—if some of the Inner Circle were involved.” 

You wrenched yourself back as quickly as the words left his mouth. “No,” you shook your head vigorously. It made an ache bloom at the base of your neck. “No, no court involvement. You can’t tell them anything. You can’t, Azriel. I know you said it was safe but you don’t understand. This can’t have anything to do with High Lords or court politics or, or—” 

“Okay, okay—hey, I’m sorry. Come here.” 

The panic had taken hold of your bearings and inched close to your heart. You reached up to place a hand against the pressure there as Azriel tugged you back against his body and glanced toward Melanie to ensure she hadn’t picked up on your stress. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he comforted, running his hand down your hair. “Nothing with the court, okay? I won’t tell any of them.” 

“Do you promise?” you all but whimpered. A tinge of embarrassment seeped under your skin at your actualized panic, but the fear took precedence and Azriel showed no repugnance at your reaction. 

For a brief, fleeting moment, you considered that a promise didn’t really mean anything at all—not before. 

But, from Azriel, it felt like something. 

“I promise.” 

A small voice then sounded, facilitating the natural end to the sharing you had offered. “All of the fishies are gone.” 

Azriel didn’t even attempt to move you away from his chest as he spoke, his words creating vibrations along your body. “That’s because you keep throwing things at them, Mel.” 

“I wasn’t throwing things at them. I was trying to offer those things to them.” 

You turned to speak to your daughter, Azriel’s arms unmoving around you. “Why were you offering things to the fish?” 

“Just in case they’re water gods. Ms. Fern tolds us about them in school. If you make them offerings then they protect you.” 

Your laugh was echoed by Azriel. The two of you shared a smile before you slowly unraveled yourself from him and beckoned your daughter forward. “Well, I’m sure they were very grateful for your offering. It was probably just their bedtime. Just like it’s almost yours.” 

Melanie made a face but didn’t argue, instead taking steps past you to stand at Azriel’s feet. “Mr. Azriel, is it my turn to cuddle? I don’t want to walk all the way home.” 

You watched Azriel’s mouth twist into a small smile that was obviously in place of a much larger one. He looked over Melanie’s head to send you a wordless question that you were quick to nod in response to. 

As if you would tell him no. 

Azriel reached down to haul your daughter up, settling her against his hip as if he’d done so a hundred times. Melanie rested her head on his chest almost as quickly as he’d grabbed for her, fiddling with a stick she still held in her grasp. You made to walk alongside them and calm your pattering heart, but certain people had other plans. 

“You too, mommy,” Melanie called, peaking the side of her face out from Azriel’s chest. 

“Me too?” 

“Uh huh. You come too. Mr. Azriel has two arms. And I can hold your hand.”

You sent a knowing glance up to Azriel, but he forwent the snickering and already had his arm open by the time you looked. “In,” he prompted with raised brows. “And you have a hand to hold.”  

[rowarn]

ENAMORED (m.)

soap mactavish / reader !

tags: established relationship, BIG dicked!soap, afab!gn!reader, virgin!soap, sub!reader

cw: loss of virginity, squirting, size difference, teasing, pet names, praise, wet&messy, missionary, mating press, cunnilingus, fingering, pussyjob, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

note: this is the fic from the pwp royale i posted recently! loss of virginity won so here's the result!!! MDNI.

; with a too-big-cock, he hasn't managed to lose his virginity yet. until he shares a sweet little moment with you, the love of his life ♡

5.7k words

Soap had been thinking about this for ages. He had been in positions like this before, without a doubt, with previous partners. 

But there was something deep inside him that was breathless over the fact that it was you situated so cute in his lap, dressed all cozy in some clothes you had left over at his place from a previous night you had spent with him. You two had been dating for some time now but he had done his best to avoid being in this predicament because he was worried it would end the same as it had with everyone else. 

Even though Soap was 28, charming and had a lot of luck scoring dates, he was still a virgin. It was the most embarrassing little fact about him. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course. In fact, all his teammates in 141 were positive he’d gotten laid more times than he could count. But bringing a pretty thing home from a bar always ended the same for him – with them scurrying out of his door with their clothes bundled in their arms the second he pulled his dick out. 

So to say Soap was nervous right about now was in understatement. 

You were so warm against him, smelled so lovely that it made his heart flutter in his chest. Everything about you was so intoxicating that he was terrified this was going to end the same way it always had with other partners – with you becoming intimidated and fleeing with your tail tucked between your legs.

He was so enamored by you that he didn’t think he would be able to cope if you walked out on him like everyone else. 

You pulled him out of his head when you cupped his stubbly cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His hands flexed against your hips, tugging you even closer on his lap. He was growing harder and harder underneath you and he silently prayed that you didn’t feel it. 

Your hands trailed down to his chest, pressing your palms flat against the firmness there as you deepened the kiss. You sighed sweetly into his mouth, dipping your tongue in to taste him as he eagerly kissed you back. His hands weren’t idle either, going from squeezing your hips to kneading your thighs, bared from your shorts.

Suddenly, he pulled back, eyeing the string of spit that connected your lips before smiling at the way you were panting from a kiss. 

“Can we do…more, Johnny?” you ask softly, rolling your thumb over the scar on his chin.

“Are you sure you want to?” he fires back, meeting your gaze under his lashes.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you smile, adjusting yourself in his lap and he has to fight to hold back the groan from how good the pressure feels even though he’s still confined to his jeans, “I love you. You love me. Of course I want you.”

The way you say it so simply and sweetly makes him smile. He suddenly takes hold of your chin and tugs you close so your forehead rests against his, “I’m not goin’ to lie, sweetheart. I…” he nervously cleared his throat, “I’m a big guy.”

You blink owlishly at him for a moment, “You mean like…”

Your hand slips further down his chest and he quickly intercepts it, taking your hand in his with a nod of his head. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth and he can see the way your pupils dilate. 

“Okay…” you whisper, “You can just…work me open, yeah?”

His lashes flutter at those words, a groan getting caught in his chest. His hands find purchase on your waist, easily hoisting you up and tossing you onto the other end of the couch before crawling over you. He immediately begins kissing your neck and you eagerly let your head fall back so he can have more access. His chest is pressed against yours, pinning you down with his weight alone as his hands continue to caress your thighs which are splayed open around his hips. 

His cock is painfully hard in his jeans, throbbing with need when he realizes you've started trembling under such simple touches. You lay there so sweetly underneath him, arms splayed on either side of your head letting him touch you and see you however he wants. Pliant.

“So sweet…” he coos, muffled with his lips pressed against your pulse point. 

You sigh contentedly, heart hammering in your chest when his hands finally move north and start pushing your shirt up. Slowly, over your belly button, over your ribs, catching on the swell of your breasts before you lift your head and let him strip the material off. He tosses it somewhere in the living room but neither of you care where it lands. 

“Shite…” he groans when he leans back on his heels, eyes landing on your bare breasts, “You’re somethin’ special.”

Before you have the chance to offer anything in reply, he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. One hand supports his weight beside your body on the couch and the other carefully slips under the fabric of your panties.  You eagerly spread your legs even more, anticipating his touch where you need him most but he doesn’t make any further movements. 

His hand falls completely still, fingertips resting just above your clit, just the slightest twitch down and he would be touching the little bud. 

His tongue eagerly swipes over the pebbled bud of your nipple that’s trapped in his hot mouth. You let out low sighs of pleasure, mindlessly arching your hips up in hopes to get him to move that damned hand lower — but he refuses, intent on teasing you with its presence so close to where you needed him.

He's got you wound taut, tense and aching for him. He dips down and you think he's going to give you what you want, but instead he uses two fingers to peel your folds apart. You feel like the air gets punched out of your lungs, thighs threatening to twitch closed but are blocked by his hulking form in between them. You can hear the sound of your folds parting, wet and sticky and it makes his cock fucking throb. 

“You’re so wet, you hear that?” he teases, popping off your nipple with a crooked grin. 

“Shut up,” you intend for it to come out biting but it comes out weak and soft, which only makes his grin broaden. 

Your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling and leaking into your panties. You feel like you could cum if so much as a breeze brushed over your clit. You've never been pushed so close to the edge from someone teasing you like this. 

One of your hands finds purchase in his mohawk, tugging the short strands so he is forced to meet you in a heady kiss. You whimper into his mouth and his free hand cups and gropes your tits in his large hand, massaging the soft flesh as he eagerly kisses you back. As you kiss, you attempt to rut your hips up in hopes of getting him to slip between your folds and make you feel good, but it doesn’t work and he chuckles. It’s cute you think you can distract him like that. 

The kiss is messy and sloppy, strings of spit connecting your lips when you finally part to take a breath. You look up at him with a dazed, heady look to your eyes that has him pecking your lips once again before descending back to your breasts. You cry out in surprise when you feel the nip of his teeth against the bud. As he tortures you with his mouth, he takes the chance to tug your shorts down your legs. You eagerly lift your hips to help him rid your body of the offending clothing, tossing them to get lost somewhere alongside your shirt.

Once you’re bare, you let your legs butterfly open, giving him a full view of your completely bare body. 

You’re practically panting when his hand slinks down your body once again, parting your folds with that sticky sound that has heat flushing to your cheeks, much louder now that there’s no clothing blocking it. Soap’s eyes drop to your pussy, index and middle finger holding your labia apart so he can see how your clit throbs and your hole clenches pathetically around nothing, drooling down to the couch. 

“So pretty,” he coos, wishing he could roll his thumb over that pretty little clit just to watch your body twitch from the pleasure but he’s on a miss.

He surges forward again to kiss you, soaking in your happy sigh at the little affection, but it doesn't last long before he's mouthing his way down your body — nipping and suckling at your skin as he makes his way further and further down. 

His large, callused hands grip under your knees and pin you embarrassingly wide open with your knees to the couch. He kisses up your inner thigh and over your pelvis, stopping to press his lips against your hip bones before his tongue dips down and swipes over one of your labia. 

Your taste lingers on his taste buds and he practically moans at the feeling. You gasp, hands flying to his mohawk when he gives the other side the same treatment, cleaning up your mess with his tongue. 

You desperately attempt to rut your hips up, whining with your need to feel his touch properly where you need him but he backs off and waits for you to sink back into the cushions in defeat before pressing a kiss above your clit. His pretty, blue eyes watch every pout and furrow of your brows that crosses your face from his teasing. 

He can tell you’re getting frustrated and needy – just the way he wants you. The fact you’re so pliant and at the mercy of whatever he’s willing to give you is intoxicating. You’re so sweet for him. 

It feels like hours that he torments you, kissing around your thighs and lapping over your folds but never giving you what you actually need. He continues to clean up any mess without actually touching where you desire him most, simply savoring your juices on his tongue. 

Your clit aches, twitching with need as it begs for just the slightest touch from him — something to put you out of your misery. 

“Johnny…” you pathetically whimper, fisting his t-shirt, tugging him closer in hopes of getting him to give you what you want.

His long lashes flutter as he looks at you, “What is it, sweet one? Something you want?” 

“Need,” you correct hastily with a tearful glare. He thinks it’s supposed to be intimidating but he only seems to find the display cute.

He laughs softly, a charming smile crossing his face as he looks completely endeared by you, “Need, huh? Are you always this needy?” 

“Only for you, Johnny!” you whimper, moving your grip on his shirt to his hair again, hoping it’ll give you more leverage but he doesn’t budge. 

He laughs softly, “That’s right, little one. Just for me.”

You feel so on edge, like he’s worked you up to an orgasm without ever actually touching you properly. He thumbs your folds apart, leaving the needy little bud open and exposed to his greedy gaze. You wish so badly he would just breathe against you so you could experience something more than this mind-numbing teasing your boyfriend has subjected you to. It’s pathetic, you realize, wishing for so much as a breath against your bud. But there’s just something about Johnny that always has you hanging on everything he does. You’re enamored, in love.

That thought has you whimpering, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

“So sweet,” he coos dismissively, smile only widening as you tearfully glare at him.

His gaze darkens at the sound of a sob tearing through your chest and he bites his lower lip when his cock fucking throbs. He didn’t really think he’d be the type to enjoy seeing his partner cry and he’s not even sure he would be into it if it was anyone but you, but here he was. 

Soap thinks you look so precious like this, defeated and waiting for his next move.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commands suddenly, chastely kissing your navel when you finally meet his gaze, unfocused and tearful, “There you go, good. Don’t look away now, okay?”

You nod your head, finding yourself getting lost in his unwavering eye contact. His pretty blue eyes and long, soft eyelashes that you could simply marvel at for hours. He was so handsome and all yours and that alone made you even wetter. Your boyfriend was on top of you, giving his all in making you feel good. 

As you're lost in thought and his eyes, his fingers finally dip down to where you need him most, pressing the pads of his digits against your clit. The little bud is so hard and sensitive that the small amount of stimulation has you toppling over the edge immediately. 

Your eyes remain open and locked with Soaps as you cum with a weak cry of his name. His fingers gently circle your clit, sticky, wet circles over the bud to ease you through the high. 

When you finally slump against the couch, thighs twitching against his sides through the aftershocks, he pulls back. Your eyes flutter closed, panting from the exertion of your orgasm. You’re practically boneless as Soap suddenly moves you trembling legs over his shoulders. 

His gaze falls to your swollen, pulsing cunt. Your folds are covered in a slick film and he can still see the way your clit and hole throbs, drooling your cum messily with every clench. Your eyes flutter open, cheeks heating when you see how intently he’s staring at your pussy.

“Don’t stare…” you whine bashfully, voice dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Can’t help it,” he gives you a crooked grin, “You’re so pretty here.”

You whine at his response, kicking your foot against his back in retaliation.

Suddenly it's like all rational thought flies out of his head and he's pinning your knees to your chest. 

You gasp at the change in position, “Johnny!” 

He chuckles at the way you sound shy, as if he didn't just have you cumming underneath him a minute ago. 

The feeling of his breath against your sensitive folds is enough to make your thighs twitch in his grasp. He makes a show, when he finds you looking down at him through your lashes with your chest rising and falling from how hard you're breathing, of letting his tongue fall from his mouth. 

Slowly, he descends, sliding his tongue between your slick folds. You practically wail, your back bowing against the couch when his tongue swirls around your clit, suckling it into his mouth. Your head slams against the couch cushion as your eyes roll back in your head, your hands gripping at his mohawk as you wail his name. 

“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” you squeal, legs kicking and flailing at the feeling of him eagerly slurping at your clit.

He backs off for a moment, releasing your bud with a lewd pop. You're panting and trembling, your knees still pressed against your chest, open and vulnerable for him. Your precious cunt is now coating in a slick film of your own cum and his spit.

“Keep yourself open for me,” he commends with a sharp look that makes you immediately do as you’re told. Your trembling fingers grip under your knees, hugging them to your chest. 

He spreads your folds apart with his thumb before his mouth finds its place there again, eagerly slurping up your cunt with a moan. He desperately eats you, swirling his tongue over your clit and dipping it into your clenching cunt to taste your juices. He's messy and sloppy, drool and your cum dripping down his chin and neck.

You cry and tremble beneath the onslaught of his tongue, he introduces two fingers, swiping them against your drippy entrance. You barely even seem to notice, too distracted humping your clit against the flat of his tongue when he lays it flat out for you. 

“Oh, Johnny!” you cry out, toes curling in your fuzzy socks the closer you get to your second orgasm, “Don't stop! Please, don't stop, Johnny!” 

He moans against you, the sound and feeling of it sending you over the edge. When he feels your clit throb on his tongue, he finally slips those two fingers inside you. The feeling of suddenly being stretched and filled sends you flying even higher. Soap has to use his body to hold you down as you kick and squirm from the overstimulating pleasure of having his thick fingers crooking inside you, grinding against that gooey little spot. 

“Johnny-!” you cut yourself off with a deep, long moan as you messily squirt all over the front of his shirt. 

Johnny continues to grind the tips of his fingers into that tender little spot inside you until you simply can’t take it anymore and shove him off with a weak cry. Soap pops the cum covered fingers immediately into his mouth as he watches you twitch and tremble against the couch, tearfully staring up at him. 

“Too much, sweetheart?” he asks, once he’s cleaned his fingers off.

You nod, taking a deep breath, “I-I’ve never…” you trail off and he quirks a brow. 

“Never squirted?” he finishes and you nod, “Well, I’m honored then. I guess we’re even.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, finally uncurling yourself from your position with a weak grunt, opening your arms to pull him close to you, finding yourself needing his touch.

His cheeks heat up, realizing it’s time to finally tell you his little secret, “Well…it’s my first time.”

“Making someone squirt?” you offer him a soft smile but it quickly fades when he shakes his head.

“No, I mean…” he clears his throat, “I mean havin’ sex.”

Your eyes go wide, “Really? But you’re like…really good with your tongue.”

He chuckles softly, forehead falling against your chest, shaking his head, “No I’ve got a lot of experience in foreplay. It’s after that I’ve never gotten to.”

You sit up at that, shock apparent on your face, “You’re a virgin, Johnny?”

“Aye,” he solemnly nods, trying to hide the embarrassment that bubbles under the surface.

“But how?” you question, “You’ve dated a lot. You’re good looking and kind.”

He grins at your praise, “I told you, little one,” he sighs, figuring now would be a good time to properly warn you about what you’re getting into, “I’m a big guy. Most people get scared off.”

Your brows come together in confusion, “Really?”

He nods slowly, carefully watching your face for any signs of apprehension. But you only continue to look confused. 

“Will you show me?” you finally ask. 

“You want to see…?” he finds himself stumbling over your question, heart hammering in his chest when you eagerly nod your head.

Wordlessly he sits up on his knees, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the material and he does look big but you want to see him completely. 

He unzips his jeans and reaches inside, hissing at the feeling of his hand wrapped around his neglected length. He finally pulls his cock free, twitching at the feeling of the cool air against him. He’s been leaking precum profusely, incredibly turned on from making you cum twice. 

“Johnny…” you whisper breathlessly, eyes wide as you stare at his length wrapped in his fist, “Holy shit.”

“I told you,” he smiles crookedly but deep down he’s nervous. 

This is the moment that will make or break you. Either he finally gets to be with you, the person he wants to share his love with the most, or you give him that terrified look and go scampering away. 

You reach out and knock his hand away, replacing his grip with your own. His breathing stutters when you give him a few, slow strokes. Your hand is so much smaller than his, unable to touch your fingers around the girth of him. The sight has him biting back a moan because fuck you’re so much smaller than him.

“You’re going to have to really prepare me, Johnny,” you playfully glare at him from under your lashes. 

His brows shoot up in surprise, “You mean you…”

“I love you, Johnny,” you smile softly at him, “I want this with you. Just…take your time, okay?”

“Of course,” he swallows thickly, quickly batting your hand away and urging you to lay back once again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, “Let's go to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, yeah we-we can do that,” he stumbles over his words foolishly, making his ears burn red in a way he hopes you don’t actually notice. 

After some stumbling and giggling, the two of you quickly find your way to his bedroom. After shutting the door, you crawl onto the bed, relaxing into the pillow, looking like his own little piece of heaven all naked on his sheets just for him. 

He strips himself where he stands at the foot of the bed, tossing his shirt into the hamper in the corner before letting his jeans and boxers pool at his feet. 

He’s on top of you before you know it, bringing you in for a kiss. As you eagerly spread your legs to accommodate his big frame, he reaches between your bodies and grips his cock again. Your entire body tenses up when you feel him pressing the tip against your folds.

“Johnny, no,” you whine, pressing against his chest, “Y-You’ll tear me open if you try to–”

“Not tryin’ to get it in, pretty baby,” he coos, “Jus’ trust me, yeah?”

You watch as he swipes the head through your folds, sliding the length between them, rutting his hips. You gasp as he grinds over your clit, making your whole body twitch from the stimulation. You’re still sensitive from the previous orgasms he had milked out of you. 

Before long, he pauses.

“Look at that,” he grins, “That’s how deep I’ll be.”

You feel your cunt clench pathetically at the sight of his length resting over your pelvis. You know that when you take him all the way, he’s going to be prodding painfully at your cervix. But you know you’re going to love every second of it. 

Not only is he long, his girth is amazing. You know it’s going to stretch you wide, you can practically feel the phantom burning feeling you know will accompany it. His cock is uncut, messily drooling all over your skin. The prettiest fucking cock you’ve ever seen and it makes your mouth water. 

“Think you can take it?” he teases, playfully tapping the heavy length against your clit. 

You whine and nod, “W-Want you to make me take it, Johnny.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” he chuckles softly, “Aye, we’ll make it fit, little one.”

Soap’s hand finds its way between your thighs again, two fingers prodding at your entrance as his other hand cups one of your breasts. You lay back in his pillows, staring up at him like he hung the moon and the stars as he stretches you open on those two digits. 

You’re pillowy soft and wet inside, pretty cunt making sticky clicking sounds as he fucks you with them. Your cum coats his skin and a creamy mess begins to form at the last knuckle when he works that tender little spot up top. 

Before long, he’s introducing a third finger. He slowly presses it in alongside the other two, stretching you open carefully and methodically until all three digits are pressed inside the tight clutch of your cunt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages, “Open up for me so I can give you my cock.”

You whine at that, “Want your cock, Johnny.”

He groans, pressing a kiss against your knee, “I know you do, sweet thing. Jus’ let me stretch you open for it, yeah?”

You nod and toss your head back, working your hips down against his fingers. He carefully fucks you with them, spreading them inside so you get used to the feeling of being stretched and filled for when the real thing is finally pressing inside. 

Fuck, the thought makes his cock ache. 

His thumb sneaks up and presses against your clit. The extra stimulation makes you clench around them like a vice and you moan so sweetly for him. He can’t wait to feel that around his heavy cock. 

“Johnny, please!” you cry, “I want you already.”

“Fuck, alright, sweetheart,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from inside you with a wet sound. 

He wraps those slick fingers around his length, smearing the mess across the soft skin. It’s embarrassingly desperate, the way he grips your hips and yanks you closer to him. You gasp at the forceful handling but quickly relax into the sheets when he leans down and kisses you again. 

As you’re occupied with his lips and tongue, he grips the base of his length and carefully begins to prod at your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he starts to press inside.

Just the tip of him is a lot to take and you can't help but wince when that fat head finally pops inside. Soap feels the way you jump and quickly pulls out, biting back a groan when he sees wet, sticky strings of your cum and his pre connecting his cock to your cunt.

He uses the head to circle your clit, making you sigh in pleasure before he’s pressing back inside. This time he, when the head pops inside, begins rolling your clit under his thumb to soothe the ache.

“Just relax,” he coos, slowly circling the bud as he sinks more and more of his length inside. 

The stretch stings and he fills you up more than you’ve ever experienced before. He feels so heavy and hard inside you and his finger on your clit makes you reflexively clench and spasm around him. He moans at the feeling, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he feels half his cock being hugged. 

Before long, he’s balls deep, deeper inside a cunt than he’s ever been in his life. Its euphoric for him. A painful ache settles in your stomach from how he’s prodding against your cervix. He stills, watching your furrowed brows as you get used to being stuffed full of his cock for the first time. 

It dawns on him suddenly that he’s lost his virginity. To you. He’s got his fat cock buried in the one person he adores more than anything on this Earth. 

He’s overcome with affection, surging forward to press his lips against yours. You whine when the angle change makes him press even deeper inside you but you kiss him back anyway. 

He pulls back slowly, “Just relax,” he assures you again, “That was a lot, huh? You took me so well, pretty.”

After a few moments under his careful caresses and kisses, you relax into the bed. Blinking blearily up at him, you flex your hips and stir his cock inside. You whimper at the feeling and he slowly pulls back so only half his length is left inside. 

“Pretty,” he mutters, “P-Pretty and fuckin’ wet.”

“Johnny…” you sigh sweetly, clutching at his sheets as he begins to fuck you in earnest. 

Your tits bounce in time to his thrusts and he can’t take his eyes off them. He’s still a little shell-shocked from having you speared on his heavy, aching cock. He can’t believe he’s got the sweetest thing creaming around him, crying his name. 

“Johnny!” you cry sharply, hands flying to cup your own tits. 

Your eyes are wide, almost like you’re shocked, “What is it, pretty?” he asks, panting.

He watches in wonder as you toss your head back, squealing and trembling. You’re cumming, he realizes. Squeezing and clenching around his cock like a vice. 

“Shite,” he moans, hands trembling as he grips your hips, helping you rut against him as you cum, “‘S it, ride it out for me. Cummin’ nice and hard, hm? Barely even did anything and you’re creamin’ all over me.”

You whimper, eyes rolling at his filthy words. You slowly sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh, heart racing as you stare up at him. Soap loves seeing you like this, covered in sweat and twitchy from how hard you came from nothing but his cock stuffed inside you. 

“More, please, Johnny,” you whine, locking your ankles around his back, locking him against you, “I want more. Please make me cum again.”

He scoffs in disbelief, pressing his hands on either side of your head on the bed, “You just came and you want more?”

“Yes, please?” you ask softly, batting your lashes at him. 

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, slowly grinding his hips against you, making sure his pelvis grinds against your clit, “I’ll give you whatever you want. This cock’s all yours now, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, “All mine, Johnny. ‘S all mine. You’re all mine. L-Love you so much.”

“Fuck!” he growls, fisting his sheets as he works his hips faster and faster against you, “Love you too. Love you, love you, love you.”

He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed at his babbling. All he can do is work his hips against yours, listening to your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pretty pussy being fucked. 

Your back arches and you reach between your bodies to circle your clit with trembling fingers. His jaw drops at the sight. He never thought he would have the chance to see a sweet little thing like you working themself to orgasm on his cock like this before. 

“Sweet baby,” he whines, sounding broken and completely broken, burying his face in your neck, “You’re so wet. You’re makin’ such a mess around me. Pretty cunt’s so wet.”

You sob at that, eyes rolling as you toss your head back. You can feel another orgasm brewing, heating your skin and making you tremble underneath your boyfriend's massive body.

“Johnny, please!” you wail, feet kicking against his back.

“What? What do you need?” he pants, drooling against your skin from where his face is still buried.

“Please!” you cry again, pressing against his shoulders to push him back. 

He looks dazed, completely fucked out and stupid from having his cock fucked for the first time. You grab his hand and shove it between your thighs. He quickly picks up what you need and starts rubbing your clit.

“This what you needed?” he pants, “Needed me to play with this pretty clit so you can cum nice and hard again?”

You squeal, jaw falling open as you back bows off the bed. He moans at the feeling of you soaking him, gushing and squirting against his bare chest and all over his hand. His mouth practically waters at the thought of getting to taste you as you cum again.

“Already?” he gasps, “So fuckin’ sensitive, cummin’ so easily for me. Fuck, so good for me. I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You nod your head, still shaking from your orgasm, “F-Fill me up, Johnny. Please. Want you to cum inside!”

“Fuck, are you sure?” he gasps, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You nod your head, “Yes, need it, Johnny.”

He fists the sheets on either side of your head as his entire body begins to tremble. His hips lose their rhythm and with a few more, weak rabbiting thrusts, he’s cumming. He cries your name, rutting his hips against yours. The movement causes him to grind against your sensitive clit, making you whimper and twitch beneath him. He grinds painfully against your cervix from how deep he is but it’s worth it to see the pretty way he cums inside you. It's a hot, thick load that fills you up and oozes out the sides of his cock and drips down to the bed. 

Afterwards, there’s a stillness that falls over the two of you. The only sound you can hear is the faint hum of the TV in the living room and the heavy panting between the two of you. 

Soap can’t think of anything to say, all he can think is to lean down and press his lips against yours. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to him as you cling onto him, still trembling. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers, muffled against your lips because he’s not willing to pull away.

“Johnny,” you whimper, “I love you.”

He smiles crookedly, pecking your nose and forehead over and over again before you’re giggling and pushing him away. 

With his cock softened, he slowly and carefully pulls out of you, both of you wincing from how sensitive you are. Your thighs are still open and he watches as his cum oozes from your thoroughly abused cunt. His hand slides up your thigh, nearing your folds but you quickly slam your thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. 

He looks up to find you glaring at him, “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins crookedly, shrugging his shoulders, “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t fancy a go again?”

“After that?” you cry, throwing your head back to laugh, “I’ve never cum so much in my life, Johnny!”

“Ah, you really know how to boost a man’s ego,” he chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you. 

He pulls you close, tucking you against his side, “Hard to believe that was your first time.”

“Aye,” he hums, kissing your temple, stroking your back slowly, “I’m glad it was you.”

“I am too, Johnny,” you snuggle close to him, kissing his bare chest.

There’s a quiet that falls over the two of you. Your breathing slowly begins to even out and he quickly realizes that you’ve fallen asleep. He hugs you closer, protective instincts urging him to keep you safe while you’re well-fucked and vulnerable like this in his arms. 

His heart skips a beat when his gaze lands on his night table, remembering the ring he’s got hidden away within. He wonders when he’s going to grow the nerve to finally ask you to wear it. 

DO NOT REDISTRBUTE, TRANSLATE, OR MODIFY. DO NOT RECOMMEND ON TIKTOK.

[ghouljams]

ghoul, the fauxcest worms are wild

thoughts on Price and his sweet wife, she coddles the 141 and calls them ‘her boys’. she always makes sure they feel loved and welcomed, does her best to make sure their stomachs are full when they visit

she always jokes about Price being their dad, never said, but always alluded to her being their mother figure. she’s just actually oblivious to the 141 obsessing over her because why wouldn’t they love her? she loves them like her own, of course they’ll smile at her and treat her gently. of course their eyes are on her, she’s their hostess. John knows, he sees the way the boys look at you - they way he looks at you

maybe John decides to give them a taste of what they can only fantasize about, lets it slip that he’ll be treating the missus to a night in. ah, but they shouldn’t worry! they’re more than welcome to come over still and watch, maybe participate if they behave

ghoul, is this anything

Oh it's fucking everything to me.

Why didn't I think of this, your husbands boys becoming your boys too. Price has always told you that his team is like his family, so when you married him you knew they were becoming yours as well! And it's perfect, they come over like clockwork for Sunday dinner every Sunday, you laugh and joke with them, make sure they're well fed and send them on their way. Then Soap needs one of his jumpers mended. You knit Gaz a scarf. Ghost swings by to help you bake. Your home sees Price's- your boys rotating through it, helping you clean up and making themselves at home.

Price jokes that you're mothering them, and you laugh it off. Until Soap accidentally calls you mum, and the red on his cheeks would make a rose look pale. Gaz tells you it's just because Price acts so much like a father to them. Ghost laughs when you mutter about being too young to be any of their mothers. You miss the way Soap's trousers tighten as he turns to flee, the way Gaz's eyes linger on your ass, the way Ghost stands just a little closer when he grabs things off the top shelf. You miss the way your husband circles the word "mum" over your clit with his clever tongue.

It's no surprise when your boys crowd you, you're used to their physicality. They bump into you, brush their hands over your back as they pass, steady you on stools, reach over your head to grab out of reach spices, you're no stranger to the hands that box you in against the kitchen counter. You are stranger to the hard cock that presses against your stomach and the groping hands that grab at your waist. Your only salvation is your husband coming into the room.

"Show your mother some respect," Price grunts from the other side of the kitchen, and your breath catches in your throat watching one of your boys drop to his knees in front of you. Your husband is watching with a lazy smile when you meet his gaze, your cheeks hot with the way his eyes roam over you, roam over his teammate. "Go on love, give your boy a taste of the pussy that made 'im."

You could light a fire just with the heat on your cheeks, your legs closed tight even as you husband's colleague draws his hands over your thighs. You hang your head to watch the singular attention they seem to have, tugging at the waistband of your leggings, you know you should move, should push them away but some sick thrill in the sweep of their fingers makes you grip the counter instead. Price pulls your head back with a firm grip.

"Unless you think 'e needs Dad to show 'im how it's done."

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 2)

americanfootballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word count: 2.3k

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

The next week, you didn't hear anything from Sukuna. You thought that maybe, he lost interest in you, but you should learn just how wrong you were soon enough.

You were sitting in class - it was thursday - and the lecture has not started yet when your former jerk of a group partner took the seat beside you. Great, you thought, of course he had to be in the same course as you.

"Hey." he greeted and you responded back. Then it was silent. Eugh, how awkward.

The door was still open when a certain someone walked past it. Of course, you immediately caught his eyes. He stopped walking and smiled mischievously, when suddenly, he saw the guy next to you, his attention now on your conversation. Sukuna quickly realized that this was the boy you were fleeing from when you two first met.

"You know, it was very rude of you to leave me hanging in that restaurant..." Sukuna heard the guy saying.

"Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

He kept eavesdropping, his brows furrowing with every word.

"I can imagine, I would be embarrassed too." were your only words. Sukuna suppressed a chuckle. He really liked your attitude.

"That's it? You don't even want to apologize?"

"What for?" you asked and met his gaze, indifference in your eyes as the guy went furious.

But before he could speak any further, his aggressive body language was enough for Sukuna to intervene. He came up to you and positioned himself behind the chair of your classmate, roughly pushing it back.

"Hey, idiot. Fuck off, will you?" he expressed loudly, cocking his head up in an order to leave. You looked up in surprise, confusion on your face, because why was Sukuna here?

Your classmate was ready to fight whoever it was behind him, but when he saw that it was Sukuna, he quickly dropped that plan and retreated without hesitation. Bewilderement decorated your face as Sukuna sat down on the now empty seat, staring daggers at the guy before turning back to you.

"What are you doing here?" you then asked, still completely dumbfounded by the current situation.

"What? No thanks?" Sukuna smirked, his whole demeanor changing, whereupon you raised your eyebrows in annoyance. He continued.

"I've witnessed your little talk by chance and figured I should rescue you from that douchebag."

"I could have handled it myself. I don't need a savior." you shook your head.

Sukuna huffed in amusement.

"Oh, believe me, I know that. But why should you worry your pretty little head when this fucker doesn't respect your boundaries anyways?"

You stared back at him.

"It is my duty as a man to hold other men accountable when they step out of line. I can't just turn a blind eye to it, you know. It can get dangerous real quick."

You furrowed your brows at his words, unsure if he was being sincere or if that was just his trick to get women to like him.

"What? Don't believe me?" he questioned at your dubious look.

"I don't know yet." you declared, studying him closely.

"Whoa, I feel like I'm being examined. I should warn you, I'm into that." At that last statement, he smirked again.

"You're into being looked down on?" you laughed quietly, not wanting to cause too much noise as the room was still quite silent.

"As long as it's you who's looking down on me." he murmured and you just watched him, eyeing him up and down.

Then he came closer to you, only inches away from your face now. He opened his mouth and his eyes stopped at your lips, staying there for a while before looking back up and narrowing them.

"Careful inspector, if I didn't know it better, I'd think you want to seduce me."

The smirk on his face widened and you groaned in disgust, waving your hands in withdrawal.

"Okay okay, you can go now." And your voice changed to a faked tone of appreciation. " 'I'm safe again thanks to you.' "

He snickered at your sarcasm and got up when he saw your professor entering the classroom, bidding you goodbye.

"See you soon, sweetheart."

And your heart missed a beat.

After class ended, the universe found it necessary to send Sukuna your way again - or more like - send you his way. One time a day wasn't enough apparently, because as you walked down the floor, who stood there in front of the lockers was no other than the popular boy himself. He was surrounded by a lot of people, a few of them were probably his football teammates, as you distinctively heard them talking about defensive strategies.

When you walked past the group, Sukuna immediately recognized your silhouette and followed your figure with his eyes. It didn't take long and he excused himself, quickly running after you. Just as you exited the building, he stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey, are you off now? It's getting pretty late, need a ride home?" he offered, holding the door open for you.

"Hey," you greeted him, walking through the entryway in perplexion, "no thanks, I'm good." Although you were curious, did he have a car?

"Come on, do me the favor." he insisted and you exhaled.

"Do you think you're entitled to a favor now for playing hero earlier? If that's the case, then-" but he interrupted you.

"No, you owe me nothing. I just want to make sure you get home safe and aren't walking home alone in the dark."

"Wow, I have to admit, you're really good at this whole player thing." you mocked him.

"You think I'm playing with you?" he laughed and then opened his mouth to say something else.

"So, is it working then?" he joked, voice deepening in an instant before you hit his arm playfully.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" he held up his hands in retreat.

"I'm not playing, though. I mean it." he confessed after.

"Well, I don't really know you and I don't get into strangers' cars."

"Strangers'? Ouch." he pressed his hand against his chest in feigned offence.

"Good thing I don't have a car then, though." he smiled coyly which left you confused.

"Didn't you just ask if I needed a ride?" you repeated his words and he swiftly cleared up the small misunderstanding.

"I was talking about my bike." he then grinned, pointing to the spot behind him, where the motorcycle was standing.

"A bike?" you sounded surprised.

"Yeah? You ever been on one?" you shook your head at his question while he got his bike ready. But, admittedly, you always wanted to experience what it was like to ride one. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to accept his offer.

"What? You've never been on a bike? Well, then it's your lucky day today. Hop on." he said, but you were still indecisive.

"And let you know where I live? What if I don't want you to?" you smiled, irony obvious in your voice. But Sukuna played along.

"Your tone alone tells me you live in a dorm. Am I right?" Your smile simply grew and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Knew it." he muttered.

"So you were speculating about me?" you instantly reciprocated.

"Always." he grinned and handed you over the helmet.

"Here, take mine. I only have one."

"What, and let you drive without one? No, I'll pass then."

"Calm down pretty girl, it's not the first time I do this." Pretty girl. Why did that name fluster you?

"You mean taking a girl with you?" you teased. He just flicked your forehead.

"No, silly. Driving without a helmet. So don't worry about it."

"Oh, so you're allowed to worry about my safety but I can't worry about yours?"

"Exactly." he gave you a teethy grin and your tummy fluttered in response. You weren't blind - he was incredibly handsome. There was a reason he was so popular after all, but up until now, you've never really noticed it, always somewhere else with your thoughts. Your two worlds were fairly separated before, so you didn't bother dealing with him.

"You're cute. Now come on, before we spend the whole evening here. I'll drive extra careful for you, promised." he assured you, half serious half joking.

A pout spread on your face and you were still hesitant, but Sukuna managed to convince you eventually.

When you sat down, he told you to hold on tight. Not knowing where to put your hands though, you decided to place them on his shoulders shyly.

"What are you doing?" he asked next and turned around, a puzzled look on his face.

"Uhm, you told me to hold on tight..." Did he want you to hold onto the bike instead?

You immediately drew your hands back in embarrassment, however, Sukuna was quick to grab them with his.

"You're supposed to cling to me. This way, you just bring me out of balance and risk falling. Here, put your arms around my waist."

That's what he said, but he did the job himself, dragging your arms around his strong built. You could practically feel the muscles behind the fabric, it was undeniable that he hid a sixpack underneath it. Your heart started racing and you hoped and prayed he didn't feel it pounding on his back.

The drive only lasted for about 10 minutes, your dorm was near the college after all, and here and there Sukuna popped a question, asking if you were okay or if you enjoyed the ride.

It was nice of him to keep the conversation going, even though it was difficult to hear him at times due to the heavy wind. When Sukuna tried addressing you once more and only a "huh?" escaped your lips, he laughed whole-heartedly, the contagious sound making you break out in laughter too. In that moment, you felt so free and careless, and you were so grateful Sukuna took you with him.

Sukuna stopped in front of the dorm complex and turned off the engine. He looked up at the building and started speaking.

"So, a dorm girl, huh? You sharing a room with someone?"

"Not a room, but the apartment. We have two bedrooms." you answered and he hummed.

When you walked up to the front door, Sukuna waited on his bike a few meters away, wanting to see you get inside. You searched for your keys, but as much as you were rummaging through your bag, you just couldn't find them.

"What's wrong?" Sukuna yelled.

"I can't find my keys." you admitted, panicking before remembering you left without them this morning.

"Can't you ring the bell?" He asked you and you explained to him that your roommate Utahime was still working.

Making his way up to you, he pulled out his phone, apparently sending some messages. He seemed distracted for a split second before he tucked the device back into the pocket of his pants.

"Where does she work? I will drive you there."

"No. No, you really did enough for me already, I'll just walk there. But thank you, for everything." you tried brushing him off to not be any more of a nuisance, but he wasn't having it.

"I wasn't asking, I'm definitely taking you there." he commanded and his casualness about it had an effect on you. It was so attractive, the way he was chauffeuring you around the city on the single mission to make you get the keys for your apartment.

Arriving at her workplace, Utahime went speechless seeing you coming in with Sukuna. While he was busy with the soda machine, you explained her the situation and she gave you her keys under the condition you let her in later. She obviously couldn't outwardly ask you about him in his presence, so you two communicated via facial expressions. Utahime tilted her head into Sukuna's direction, a flabbergasted look on her. You tried your best to let her know you'd clear everything up later as he already neared the two of you, the prominent silence seemingly suspicious. He seemed to notice the weird atmosphere.

"You guys good?" Sukuna broke the silence.

"Of course! Everything's perfect!" Utahime exaggerated and you pressed your eyes together in humiliation, facepalming inwardly. Sukuna mustered her strangely, taken aback by her overreaction as well. After that, he turned to you.

"Here for you. Saw this drink on your table earlier, you must be thirsty." he reached you the drink he bought and both Utahime's and your mouth fell wide open at this action.

"T-thank you." you stuttered a little and Utahime let out a small laugh she failed to suppress. You sipped on the bottle of strawberry-vanilla soda and then stored it in your bag. Sukuna was simply drinking water.

Leaving the lobby, Utahime was the receptionist in a 3-star hotel, Sukuna and you walked back to his vehicle. On your way, he mentioned the weird ambience inside.

"Your friend is a little odd, isn't she?" he pronounced and you chuckled, nodding your head slightly.

"A little, yeah." you agreed, "but she's the best."

Sukuna looked at you with a soft smile, but you didn't see it.

As you sat down on the bike and Sukuna got the helmet out of its case, you've come to a realization.

"Can I ask you something?" you uttered.

"Spit it out." he permitted.

"How did you know I don't have a car myself?"

He lips twitched upwards.

"I've never seen you in the parking lot. But I've seen you walking around plenty. I put two plus two together." He's so attentive.

"Someone's been looking out for me." you beamed.

"Guilty." he smirked and slipped the helmet over your head, locking the straps. You looked up at him with big eyes and he met your glance, his half-lidded eyes observing what's left of your face. The tension was palpable for the both of you and before it got too awkward, he was already shoving down the helmet visor to escape your eyes.

The ride back was silent, but he still watched you walking through that door before leaving.

Soo here's part 2 hehe! Had to make Sukuna a lil' feminist because he's supposed to have a functioning brain <3. Hope y'all enjoy!

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus , thanks for the support 🤍

[luveline]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have to find new ways to communicate when a cold leaves you voiceless. miguel is less than happy —featuring grumpy miguel and his cheerful spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 2.3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel's hackles hike as you appear. You have an obsession with toying with him and he's in the middle of something more important than your whims and wants.

"Don't start," he warns, barely looking at you. 

You point at yourself as if to say, Who, me? Grinning, you pull your arms behind your torso tightly, your shoulders harsh slopes where they'd usually be lax with calm. Your spider suit strains against the movement, shining with a subtle shimmer as you twirl your way into his side. You blink up at him, mock-innocent. 

"What did I just say?" he asks. 

He's expecting a charming rebuttal he doesn't get. You're awfully charismatic; Miguel often thinks you've manufactured a devilish siren call that yanks him in like a fish on a line no matter how hard he tries to split his lip and flee.

You're pretty, sure, but it isn't your looks that endear you to him. You have this way of speaking that's effortlessly carefree, despite the frankly ridiculous depth of the well that is your fondness for the world. It shouldn't make sense, and it does: you're happy because you love the world. When you speak to him, annoy him, praise him and degrade him in the same breath, Miguel thinks you might love him, too. 

You're silent. Miguel takes it as a blessing and finishes analysing the footage playing in front of him. He finishes as quickly as he can, and he's not a dick, he says, "Thank you." Then, with an unimpressed eyebrow raise, "Where have you been?" 

You come to see him so often he kind of forgot you didn't have to. He's taken you for granted, he knows, and after three days of not seeing you he should be happier. He should've asked you about it as soon as you appeared. 

You shrug and point at his screen. He can practically see the question mark in your eyes. 

"That's nothing. What, you're not speaking to me now?" he asks. 

Paper creaks in your hand as you pull a sketchbook from your pocket. Small, lilac, you flip to the first page and show him the scrawled message there with a rueful smile. 

Miguel's expecting a cartoon version of himself, but instead you've written three words. 

I have laryngitis. 

Miguel's gaze flickers between you and your book, assessing the claim with scepticism. "Why would you have that? You're practically impervious to disease." 

You flip to the next page. 

Superbug from Earth-87222 defeated my enhanced healing.

One of your Peter Parker friends lives there. He isn't jealous (because he knows that particular Peter doesn't like girls). "And you can't talk?" he asks. 

The next page. I can't talk.

You tuck the book to your chest. Lips parted, you attempt to speak, but all that comes out is hot air and a cruel croaking scratch that makes his chest ache. 

"Don't hurt yourself," he says, softer than he'd been speaking beforehand. He can't decide whether to glare at you or pull you in for a hug. If he hugs you, you might attach yourself to him like that thing from Alien. He glares. "You could've told me." 

You gesture to your throat. I can't speak. 

"That you were sick, you know how to type. You bother me every day for weeks and then one day you stop showing up, and you don't answer your watch, what am I supposed to think?" 

You stare up at him dreamily. He swears you get off on being scolded half the time. 

Miguel takes your wrist into his hand and turns your wristband forward to showcase the screen. "You see this? You see when my prompt comes up? You could take ten seconds and hit me back." 

Again, you open your small sketchbook, turning to a fourth page. You've predicted him well.

I didn't want to worry you. Don't be mad, handsome, you'll get more wrinkles. 

"Tu sabes todo," he fumes. You know everything. "If you're so smart, you can help me recalibrate the pocket dimension storage." 

You flip a page. It's finally a drawing rather than a knowing line, your familiar artistry obvious in your weighted linework and rushed shading. It's Miguel, his expression one he isn't sure you would've actually seen to reference as well as you have, lovingly concerned with a speech bubble coming from beside his softly rendered hair. Get well soon, cariño. 

He scoffs. "You seem fine to me." 

In truth, you don't seem fine. Now he knows, he can see evidence of your days away. Your lips are chapped under the balm you've applied, your hair dishevelled (though it's often unruly, in line with your personality). You wince when you breathe too hard. Miguel lowers the platform and sets you up next to him on a workbench in the back of the laboratory beside him for purely professional purposes. He has to make sure you're doing the calibration correctly, that's all. 

He can't quite explain away the tea he gets for you from the cafeteria, nor the research he does on the way back to you, Lyla at his shoulder saying, "You're such a softie." 

You find you don't need the sketchbook to communicate. Miguel places your tea down and your smile alone is thanks enough. It's pure reverential delight. He doesn't really deserve it, so he pretends he doesn't see. 

When you need help with a recalibration, you take his wrist gently. You don't even need to point at the screen, the subtle uptilt of your brows enough clue.

"Here, you're almost there," he murmurs under his breath, distracted by the complicated code you've been editing in the corner of the screen. "Oh, is this what you do when I'm not looking?" 

You tug his elbow. 

"No? You're not messing around?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "You think I'm stupid." 

Your fingers tighten. Miguel clicks a couple of things to finish the calibration. He looks at you from over his shoulder. Your face is near. It radiates heat. He bites the tip of his gloved finger and yanks it off clean to press the back of his naked hand to your forehead. 

"You're warm," he says, patting carefully downward. Your skin is as hot as he'd worried. 

Miguel drops his hand without rush, the side of his pinky tracing down your cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't be here." 

You shake your head vehemently. There's something in it he doesn't understand, an uncharacteristic shyness. He supposes he'd feel the same if he were sick like this, but you have no reason to be ashamed of a bad cold.

"Enough calibration, then. Take it easy." 

You do not take it easy. Your first port of call is to request to share his screen. He grants you permission and rescinds it soon after, irked when the majority of his monitor becomes wallpapered by digital post it note drawings of him looking cranky and of you in a crown, a ship's captain's hat, standing on the moon. He sets them each back to the perimeter of his window and tries to work. Trust you to find ways to bother him without teasing aloud. 

He thinks that… but then, his hands falter over the keyboard. You aren't a bother. You irritate him but he kind of likes it, most of the time. He turns his head just enough to see your face, blue and white light kissing your skin. You glow. 

Miguel thinks about how he used to do this alone. Lyla on his shoulder when she felt like it but usually tinkering in the quiet, trying to stop the end of the world, the pressure akin to how Atlas himself must have felt, knees locked and arms braced above his head to stop the Earth falling into the black abyss. Miguel doesn't always know what he's being punished for (or, he didn't). He doesn't know why this ended up on his plate, but the panic of doing it alone ebbs every day. With you by his side, unshakeable if not unfailing, it feels less like a death sentence and more like a problem that needs solving. He can't save everyone, but he can try. He can't stomach the agony of his life if he thinks about the past; you make it easy to stay present. 

Who would he rather have here than you? Out of everyone living that he knows, you're the only person he could stand to sit with for this long. 

It's not the same without your voice. Your murmurings, your kind doting, your put upon and less-so confusion. He misses it more than he can say in that moment, worse when you feel his eyes and turn to face him with a soft smile. 

Everything okay? you ask without asking. 

You don't need to speak. He can see it on your face. 

Miguel gets up from his bench to tower over you. Without giving it too much thought, he bends down, wrapping his right arm behind your shoulders, the left loose over your front, and kisses your forehead with the barest of pressures. It's hardly a kiss at all, and it makes no noise. More like he's resting his lips there, his nose at your hairline, breathing in. His hand rubs an up and down of its own accord into your upper arm, the soft fat of it melding under his touch. 

Your head dips back invitingly. You're like butter in the sun at his touch, a slow melting. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll deny it," he says quietly. 

You snort. You give his arm a pat and reach over it to grab your sketchbook. Miguel straightens but doesn't remove his arms, watching as you flick to the right page. 

I can't talk, the page says. You beam at him.

"I see," Miguel says. "You think it's funny because you couldn't tell if you wanted to." 

Your answering hum comes with the feeling of your fingers latching onto his elbow. Exactly. 

Well, fuck it. If you can't tell anyone, Miguel might as well send it. He leans down to grab you up into his hold, a squeezing hug that says everything he wanted to tell you while you were gone, his worry for you and his annoyance at your lack of communication. You don't need audible words to tell him things, and Miguel doesn't need words either. Hopefully his arms around you and his nose digging too rough into your temple says how he feels plainly. 

"I figured you got sick of taking orders," he confesses. You got sick of me. "When you didn't come back." 

You refuse to act small —Miguel doesn't want you to—, standing despite the weight he'd been resting on you, turning in the circle of his arms to look up into his eyes. It's too much, Miguel doesn't want your face this close to his, not with the rawness of his feelings aching a trail up between each of his rib bones, one by one. He clenches his jaw. 

Your hand climbs to his ear. He stays very still. As the initiator he should be forgiving, but your fingers touch his ear and he contemplates sinking his teeth into your hand. You stroke hair away from his face with a dramatised expression that says it's in the way, pesky stuff, though the final fond tuck of it behind the shell of his ear is impossible to deny.

Your thumb rubs his earlobe. 

"Are you having fun?" he asks dryly.

Your nod is sincere. Enthusiastic, you start to ease your fingertips into the thick tresses of his hair. 

Miguel grabs your wrist in an iron grip. 

"Enough." 

He guesses more than knows what your pout means —that isn't fair. 

"Life isn't fair," he says, pressing your forearm to your chest, an action fraught with apology. It's ridiculous how much can be said without words. He'd like for you to get your voice back solely to end this confusing misery. Well, not solely… Miguel misses the sound of it, distinct as your lopsided smiles and unconventional hand movements. "You can file a complaint just as soon as you get your voice back, how's that?" 

You roll your eyes and sit back down on your bench. Miguel takes a lap around the laboratory to calm down, returning to a new program blinking on computer his taskbar to be opened. 

He doesn't give you the satisfaction of looking your way as he opens it. 

"Miguel!" The program chirps, in a voice jarringly close to yours but not nearly as sophisticated as the majority of language intelligence he uses in his own coding. "I was waiting for you, handsome! Where have you been? Now you're back, I have a very special song to sing for you. Sing along if you know this one! Alright… Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety nine bottles of beer…"

Miguel realises he can't mute or close the program shortly thereafter. Vocaloid you counts down to sixty one bottles of beer by the time he resigns to turning off his computer altogether, a headache twinging angrily behind his eyes. 

Maybe he could use a break from your voice after all. 

You giggle breathlessly at him as he drops his face into his hands. 

"Drink your tea," he orders, words muffled by his palms.

He doesn't look up. There's the sound of a big sip. Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He's kidding himself —the sooner you get your voice back, the better. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[deepspacenova]

LESS THAN ENEMIES

1100 words || mild hurt/comfort. injured sylus. pre-relationship. minor blood.

Note: trying out something new and joining a fandom instead of obsessing in silence for once. Please accept some Sylus whump as my humblest offering xx

Sylus’ favorite thing is to watch you on the battlefield.

It started with Mephisto, of course. The mechanical corvid kept tabs on so many of Sylus’ subjects of interest that he’d thought nothing of programming the so-called “special” new Hunter’s likeness into its tracking rounds.

When he saw your evol, he became determined to take her. When he saw you bound in front of him, no recognition in your eyes, he became intrigued. But when you put a bullet through his chest point blank, no hesitation, he became captivated. Enraptured. Obsessed.

After the auction — and when Mephisto’s wing maintenance went from biweekly to twice a week — Sylus decided to spare himself the trouble and started going himself.

He doesn’t get too close, can’t get too close, but he’ll never get enough of your ferocity, your determination, your grace when he watches you fight for your people. For your cause.

Even if it’s in direct opposition to his plans.

Actually, his men could stand to learn a thing or two from you. In wit, in strategy, in combat.

The thought almost manages to pull a smile from him.

As much enjoyment as he takes in seeing you dominate the battlefield, to hear you calling out orders to other Hunters, to witness the shimmering waves of your evol, he can’t ignore the tension he feels when he does. The apprehension.

The worry.

Picturing your beautiful body cut down, wounded, bleeding… it isn’t something he likes to think about.

And that’s why Sylus watches the battlefield.

It’s a chaotic dance of guns and swords. Your Hunters and the rogue faction that ceded from Onychinus months ago clashing on the blood-stained streets.

The rest of the neighborhood is dark but calm, filled with the high-pitched buzz of the street lamps on the periphery of N109. If he wasn’t scrutinizing you with such focus, it would’ve felt like he was heading out to join you for one of your midnight meet ups.

You're close to the building that’s casting Sylus into the shadows, your singular focus centered on the four men surrounding you. No other Hunters are nearby.

Sylus watches you weave a web of power around two, freezing them in place, swords locked into a swinging motion. At the same time you turn around and trap a third, his arms getting more frantic the higher you raise your gun, before he drops like a stone to the ground.

You’ll will win this one, Sylus muses, as the men he’d so generously chosen to oust from the organization rather than kill dwindle in numbers. Most of them are being tracked down by other Hunters, those that remain look like they might flee in a desperate attempt at self-preservation like the roaches they are.

Who knew the Hunter’s Association would become his pest control.

Sylus heightens the rush of power in his veins as one of the men takes advantage of your divided focus, shakes himself free of your power’s hold, and stumbles backwards, running toward the alleyway Sylus occupied in hopes of escape.

You recklessly release him without a care, letting him get as far as the curbside. He gasps when he spots Sylus, taking an instinctive shot with what looks like a pilfered Hunter’s gun just as Sylus unleashes his evol, let’s it hum from within him, through his veins to his palms as he snuffs the breath out of the man in front of him, as well as the two next to her.

The bodies topple onto the dirty asphalt in perfect harmony, joining the other vermin she’d taken care of.

An outraged gaze whips toward Sylus. You’d known he was there.

Before he can wonder at what he’d done to give himself away you're already marching toward him. Too irritated to make sure other Hunters aren’t following — they aren’t, Sylus has made sure — when you step in front of him. That magnificent power isn’t quite contained yet, casting a glow around you that makes him want to reach out and…

He crosses his arms in case they make any movements he doesn’t approve of.

“They had information I needed, you overbearing—”

He narrows his eyes, ignoring a twinge in his bicep as he leans it against the building. “They’re your enemies, sweetie. Do you think they would’ve had the same mercy with you?”

“They might’ve,” you bite out. “Now, thanks to you, we’ll never know.”

He hardens his jaw. Your naiveté would get you hurt one day. “Trust me, they weren’t about to help you, they wanted to hurt you. To cut all your little Hunters down and take you with them.” Tendrils of his power wrap around your waist like a vine, yanking you toward him on a gasped breath, and your hands feel like brands on his chest.

“And, kitten?” You purse your lips, looking past his shoulder to ignore him, taking the comfort of that gaze from him. Growling low in his throat, he tilts your chin back up, tracing his thumb over the silky edge of your jaw. “I won’t let anyone do that.”

The frosty glare in your eyes melts, taking the last of your anger with it.

“I won’t either,” you murmurs. Stepping back, you take your face from his grasp. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I don’t need any of the other Hunters catching you.”

Sylus sighs, turning his back to the bodies when lightning pierces through his arm, causing him to cover it up with an annoyed hiss.

“Sylus? Sylus. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

Trying to calm the frantic words that match your frantic hands, he grits out, “I’m fine. Must’ve happened right before I took care of those last three. It’s nothing.”

You're grasping at his fingers to peel them away, revealing a decently sized chunk of flesh removed from his bleeding bicep.

It’s not the most severe wound he’s ever sustained, by far. Still, he’s mildly impressed that a Hunter’s bullet could pack such a punch. He’ll need to look into those.

“It’s not nothing, there’s no way that’s going to heal on its own. You need… stitches or something. I’m taking you to the base.” Wrapping one palm around his arm and the other around his wrist, you steer him by the arm in the opposite direction of Linkon. “And before you say anything, every Hunter goes through field medic training.”

It’s the same tone you use with other Hunters, those you call friends. The sound of determination coated in the steel of care and concern -for him.

You're treating him like he’s… yours.

He ignores the sudden balloon expanding in his chest at the thought. “You know you never need an excuse to put your hands on me, kitten,” he drawls with a smirk, deciding to give himself into it, into her.

And despite the most serious injury he’s had in a while tearing into the space between his missing skin and your palm, all he can feel is a fluttering, healing warmth when your cheeks flush and your pace quickens.

[linomilkers]

[Chan x Reader x Minho]

Hiii, this wouldn't get out of my head, let me know if you want a part 2!

[warnings: pervert!Chan, voyeurism (very much intentional but he feels guilty-ish about it), sex pollen]

Chan wasn't a pervert.

Or, well, he wasn't normally a pervert -- he guesses that's the most correct way to put it. He was being a pervert right now, for sure, because listening to his roommate fuck someone isn't not perverted. He doesn't think he could really be blamed for it, all too much; the walls are thin, he could practically hear Minho breathing from the living room, so. . .yeah. Maybe he could put on his headphones to drown it out and respect their privacy but he doesn't.

He never does, because this wasn't a one time thing -- Chan is always listening. It isn't like Minho is being loud on purpose, or to be disrespectful, and he can always hear the muffled moans of the person he's fucking -- they were trying to be quiet. He knew that Y/N, in particular, was very considerate of how loud they were, or the sounds in the room. Of all the people that Minho has coming in and out of the flat, he knew why she came around most often, and why Minho seemed to like her best. She was nice and funny, and they don't even always fuck each time she comes around, so Chan thinks they might legitimately be friends.

Chan isn't sure what he wants -- part of him wants to fuck her with Minho and part of him thinks he probably wants to be fucked by Minho too, but. . .that's neither here nor there. All he knows is that depending on his mood, he could listen or not listen to Minho fucking someone.

However, when he knew it was going to be Y/N, well, he was shoving his ear to the wall.

Tonight was no different; she'd come over for a movie and snacks, and Minho played a rather aggressive form of footsie on the couch (he was just shoving his socked foot against her claves, then her shoulder, then wiggling it against her armpit -- he was being annoying to be annoying, and would grin when she'd grab his foot to stop him). She fled from her spot beside Minho to a spot on the floor near Chan, her upper half swaddled in a throw blanket as she pressed herself into his side. Minho accuses her of being a traitor but stretches his feet to the end of the sofa and stretches with a loud yawn before settling back in.

Chan used to get nervous, when she would flee to his side, worried about getting in between them or something but it never seemed to work like that. If anything, he thinks they thrive off getting him involved in their banter back and forth. They love making him pick sides, throwing each other under the bus, fluttering their eyelashes and pouting (and making his dick unbelievably hard) while they beg for him to agree with them.

During a more intense part of the movie, Chan couldn't pull his gaze away from the screen. He watched so intently that when he reached forward to grab for his drink and took maybe too big of a gulp, he realized that he had accidentally grabbed Minho's mug. One that had tea in it -- some special brand that he and Y/N get from. . .he's actually unsure where they get it from. Just knows Minho threatened him once not to drink it without asking, so Chan never bothered -- he wasn't a big tea guy any way.

So when his mouth is flooded with it, he startled. Blinking rapidly -- it'd be rude to spit it out into the mug, so he swallowed it down. It was. . .okay -- a different flavor. He honestly couldn't tell what that flavor might be, but he knew it was one he'd not been privy to before. Thankfully, Minho doesn't notice the mistake, but when he feels the bite of nails into his forearm he glances over to see Y/N, her eyes a little wide.

Chan shrugged, mouthing oops before slowly setting the mug back down and leaning back into his seat. Sure, it may come out at a later date -- in a very Minho vs Y/N fashion, she would somehow spin this into a 'Channie loves me, we even kept the secret about how he drank your tea!' kind of moment. He'd defend himself then -- it's better to ask for Minho's forgiveness when the indiscretion happened a while ago rather than in the moment.

They parted ways when the movie ended without any mention of the tea. Y/N hugged Chan maybe a little too long and told him to have a good night, promising to see him in the morning for breakfast ("or before then," she winked at him, but he imagined it was another thing to get Minho riled up). Then she skipped off to Minho's room, while Min lagged behind, gathering up his phone and the charger.

"You g'na be up late tonight?" He inquired.

Chan cleared his throat, "Yeah," he agreed, "Aren't I always?"

So Minho knew he was going to be awake for a while, and that didn't stop him from doing whatever it is he does to work Y/N up. Typically, Chan can hear them go back and forth, and back and forth about something. He never knew if it was a disagreement, or if they were just fucking around with each other, but there's usually Minho loudly stating his opinion, Y/N scolding him for being too loud, and then it gets quiet. A few minutes will pass and he can hear their lips smacking together, and the low, distinct moans that he knew Minho only had when he was with Y/N. Like he couldn't stop them from leaving his mouth, or -- alternatively -- like he knew it drove her crazy and he wanted to turn her on even more.

And Chan has done this like. . .a thousand times before, it feels like, so he's perfected the art of moving on his creaky bed silently. He shifts his weight just so, inconspicuously enough that he can crawl up to a sit and carefully shove his ear close to the wall. He doesn't even pretend to not be listening for the first five minutes like he used to; he always cracks anyway, when his dick won't flag and he realizes its either listen to them and be unsatisfied or listen to them, get off, be at least halfway satisfied and fall asleep. It's easy to pick the latter, when he finally gets a good night's rest.

This time, it's a little different though. Y/N is muffled, sure, but she sounds more desperate. Hell, even Minho sounds more desperate, like every touch and caress whether it be with their fingers or their tongue, might be too much -- too good. The desperation is palpable; felt through the walls and placed onto him. His heart races, and his mind is a little melty, and the hand that squeezes the stiffening bulge in his briefs feels like fire in the best way. Searing through his clothes, making him warmer, twitchier. He would probably cum quickly tonight, he could tell, maybe just a couple of pumps and he'd be done for. That's what this is about, right? To cum. . .to get off quickly, so he could fall asleep and leave them to do as they pleased, without him listening to every wet sound, and whimpered moan, and slap of skin.

Tonight was different for Chan too; he's always pretty worked up when he's listening to them, but not to the extent he was right now. When he sneaks his hand beneath his briefs, he finds that the insides are already warm, wet and sticky. He's leaking more than he normally would be at this point -- the kind of drip that would a thin, stringy line from his tip if he had been naked -- his cock bobbing. And when his hand makes contact with his shaft, he hisses, toes curling, hovering over himself. Holy fuck, was he going to cum just from that?

"You want him in here, don't you?" His tone is taunting, but that isn't new -- he's always speaks to her like he knows something she doesn't while they fuck. Y/N always cries out a lot louder when he does, "Hm? You think he'll be nice to you? Think Channie will fill you up and make you cum without you having to do any of the work?"

Chan's heart is slamming against his ribcage, his blood roaring in his ears. Why are they bringing them up? They're bringing him up right? He's the only person they call Channie, that he's aware of. . .but they'd never, in all his time listening in, had brought him up during sex.

Y/N moaned, but not without a small, "Shut up," attached to it, and he could imagine the pout she's making, the way she'd thud a loose fist against Minho's shoulder.

"Yeah, he'd love this tiny little pussy, wouldn't he? Maybe I'll tell him how badly you want him to fuck it." She must make a face because he chuckled, warm, taunting, "What're you pretending to be embarrassed about? I feel you squeezing me."

"He'll hear, Minnie," she whimpered, and for the first time in a while, Chan feels a bead of guilt welt up in his chest for listening in. Not enough to take his ear away from the wall though, "You're too loud."

Her pouted lip must be really cute, because Chan hears him pause to smear their mouths together, the sound of them kissing just barely perceptible from the wall to his ear. When they part, it sounds wet -- he could imagine a string of spit connecting their lips, bowing and snapping, "You want him to bend you over and fuck you full. I'll keep your pretty mouth occupied with my cock, hm? So you don't forget who owns you, needy slut."

The moan that leaves her is full, and she must clamp down on him because Minho groans louder than he has all night. Chans cock throbs hard twice before he cums untouched.

The thwack of their thighs colliding echoes in his head as he stares at his lap, the way the fabric wets around the tip, cum pooling through the thin cotton. His cock doesn't flag -- hell, if anything he feels even harder than he did before. The edge just barely taken off after cumin from what? One stroke and the sound of them both moaning? How pathetic could he get?

But they were fantasizing about him, just on the other side of the wall. He was always thinking about them, all the things he would do, or wanted done. He wouldn't make Y/N do anything but sit and look pretty. He always hears how Minho is making her work for it and the way she whines and whimpers when her thighs burn, or when he edges her too many times. It's cute, sure, but he'd just take care of her -- make her cum so much that her mind is empty with nothing but his cock.

And with Minho, he can't decide if he wants to fuck him or be fucked by him. Maybe he wants to be fucked by him while Chan fucks Y/N? To feel the bite of his fingernails into his thighs when he splits him open, calls him pitiful, tells Chan that he's nothing but a greedy hole like the pretty girl on top of him, and fuck Chan's going to cum again.

He felt the telltale lull in his lower belly that his orgasm was approaching, when he hears Minho sigh, heavy and loud. He wouldn't have thought anything of it but when it's a direct order to Chan -- well, it catches his attention.

"Ugh, we know you're listening Dumbass," his voice is calm, measured, like he isn't buried deep inside of her, "Just come in here."

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒. angst w/fluff

feat. Caelus x GN!Reader | wc. 1.6K

sum. fireflies are fleeting creatures, and so were his feelings for you. . . or so you thought

cw. 2.0 spoilers, some intended lore inaccuracies but nothing major

note. no firefly slander in here, just some angsty thoughts I got after finishing 2.0 before bed

main.mlist hsr.mlist

Ambiguous relationships are unstable, often leads to misunderstandings. The balance that had been barely maintained by not invading each other's territory and not interfering with each other's business had begun to shake. With the appearance of a variable called Firefly. Disorganized thoughts strewn like scratches in your head.

"Caelus, how can you be certain she's trustworthy if she's hiding something from you?"

"I never said she was, she has her reasons if she doesn't want to tell me, but I'm inclined to help her now that she's in danger."

He never spared you a glance as he stalked to his room.

I was in danger once yet you never came to my aid. What's so special about her? Was your bitter thought.

There were so many questions you want to ask him. If you had tried to count them, you would have run out of fingers and toes. But when you opened your mouth, what came out was utter nonsensical question.

"What makes you so inclined to help her?"

He finally stopped and gaze over his shoulder. "She's important to me."

. . . And I'm not?

You're shakened, but his golden eyes were utterly calm. It would be absurd to tell this man to forget her and stay by your side. The idea of fleeing was anathema to him.

You don't even know the girl, but based on his descriptions prior she's exactly the type of girl he would go for and it's enough to add salt on your unrequited love.

It's obvious you two like each other that even March was able to pick up the tension, but you both remained on the neutral ground and never fessed up.

Meanwhile, Black Swan's knowing gaze traversed on your distraught ones as you follow the Trailblazer on his way back to the Dreamscape. She knows the moment she looked, conflicting feelings who are yet to be acknowledged are now catching up.

Once Caelus entered his room, the Memokeeper turned to you.

"One with a sincere heart prevails, young one. He's yet to be aware of your burgeoning feelings, having the initiative might help you with your current predicament." She advised.

You barely glanced at her as you downcast your eyes. "And endure the plausible rejection now that he has her? I'd rather be colored in green."

She chuckled. "Green with envy doesn't suit anyone. It's strange to me how certain you are with your prediction."

Sighing, you turned to meet up with the special guest whom he invited you to have a chat.

"I'll head first. Take care of him, although he can do most part of it, it wouldn't hurt to have another shield."

Black Swan merely smiled as she watched you walk away with a heavy heart. Ah young ones, always so blindsided with things that hinder them to confess.

"Apologies for the delay, your friend told me about their plans to meet with the IPC ambassador before going in the Dreamscape."

Caelus, who was about to dive in, halted at his steps and his shoulders stiffened. For a brief moment, the Memokeeper witnessed the renowned Intergalactic Baseballer summoning his grey bat.

"Aventurine? Why would they meet up with him?" Was his immediate response with furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists.

"That, I do not know. You can wait and ask them once we're done with the mission."

Who ever said he's a patient guy?!

"Well, my friend. What do you say?"

You groaned upon gracing your eyes with reality and a peacock suddenly greeted you by the tub. No wait, it's just the IPC representative.

"I-I must discuss the details with the others first before making a decision." You clutched the rim the of the tub to balance yourself from that disgruntling experience.

Transition sucks the most.

"Don't worry, I can wait but try not to make it long."

Honestly, you don't even know the reason why he's seeking you out for this. It was Caelus at first and now he's interested in doing business with you.

You're tempted to ask him but it might lead to a longer conversation and you want nothing more than to relax for a moment without sleeping.

You heard Aventurine bid his temporary farewell, but you failed to notice him stopping right at the exit before shaking his head. You were too focused on alleviating the dizziness that you failed to focus the shadow framing you

"What did he want with you?" Your blood froze right there and then

"Shouldn't that be my question? What are you doing here, in my room?" You couldn't look up at him and can only look on his knees which are the same level as your eyes.

Look up and you would see every emotion to exist on his face.

It came by a blur, you were sitting in the tub and the next you heard the water splashing followed by being engulfed by someone warm and sturdy.

He's hugging you.

You blinked once and twice.

Caelus' hugging you.

If you can even call it a hug when you feel your bones cracking.

It's not a foreign act, you've hugged once in awhile but it's usually with the four of you; Dan Heng, March and him. You've never exclusively hugged before so this notion surprised you.

"Caelus?" You softly called out as he buried his face in your hair.

"Nothing remains with me. My memories and past companies, I couldn't grasp them. Now I'm graced with so many friends, I'm always afraid everything will slip away once more and I'll be an empty shell you met in the Space Station." His voice is unusually mellowed, it reminds you of a child complaining about school.

You let yourself relaxed and surround him with your warmth as well and right at that moment you feel him abandoning his weight.

He wants to say more, however the recent events seemed to have an invisible force squeezing his heart and preventing him from talking, but it doesn't stop his tears from flowing.

I don't want to lose you, too.

He wants to say those to you, but his heavy heart and parched throat reign supreme. So he bared himself and cried to you, letting himself vulnerable in front of you, hoping that would be the bridge to convey his feelings that words cannot express at the moment.

©OTAKUWORKS_2024

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I THINK YOUR LOVE WOULD BE TOO MUCH ; SATORU GOJO

summary; satoru knows that you’re worried about something. he just doesn’t know what.

word count; 4.1k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, sickening amounts of fluff, (that’s literally all. that’s it. thank you for your time), you’re both down horrendous, the ”something” reader is worried about is very very silly <333, mostly satoru’s pov!!

a/n; i love this man so fucking much my chest hurts so i dug up the sappiest wip i could find in my drafts <333 you can tell i completely lost the plot halfway through but just pretend that i didn’t ok. i dedicate this to gojo nation :3

satoru feels your stare prickle at the back of his neck.

he’s rummaging through the fridge, one hand on his hip, grabbing two cans of iced tea from the bottom compartment. peach for him, lime for you. his infinity is down, the pads of his fingers meeting chilled aluminum, condensation licking at his skin.

but the goosebumps that sensation causes is nothing compared to the ones he gets from this — your stare digging into the back of his head, your attention aimed directly at him. when he turns around, closing the fridge with a bump of his hipbone, you freeze. like a deer caught in headlights. 

satoru grins.

”you checkin’ me out?”

”no,” you blurt. his smile only grows.

”aw…” he waltzes across the room, from the kitchen island to the living room, fuzzy socks against the floorboards. ”what’s up, then? something on your mind?”

with a clink, he puts the cans of tea down on the coffee table. you murmur out a breath of thanks, but make no move to reach for either of them.

now that he’s close enough to see you properly — he thinks to himself that you do look a little ill at ease. something in the crease between your brows, shying away from the eye contact he wants. something in the way your voice comes out somewhat strained.

”it’s nothing… i just —” 

you stop. gaze fleeing from his own, slipping down to your lap. he thinks you look particularly small like this. curled up on his expensive couch, curling in on yourself; gnawing at your bottom lip.

”… i’m being dumb.”

satoru hums. tilting his head, taking you in — wasting no more than a mere moment before taking action. 

you feel him plop down next to you, a shift in the weight bearing down on his couch. comforting. when you glance up, he’s smiling, patient and light. hand sneakily slipping between the cracks of your own, squeezing your palm, running his thumb over the ridges of your knuckle.

”wanna tell me about it?”

from behind the black layer of glass obscuring your frame, satoru watches you intently. watches your expression shift, drinking in the twitch of your brows, how the colour of your eyes flickers in the light. the way your soul sulks and sputters under the weight of his all-seeing gaze. 

you part your lips. slowly, searching for the right words — only to close them again.

you try once more. hesitant. 

all you can manage is a frustrated huff.

”it’s nothing, honestly,” you’re quick to backtrack, wincing inwardly. ”i've just… been thinking. i guess.”

a hum. his smile doesn’t waver. ”about what?”

you avert your gaze. biting your lip, again, turning away from him; resting your chin on the heel of your palm. avoiding his stare like it could turn you to stone. he barely picks up on the words you murmur, flowing out beneath your breath.

”i... can't tell you.”

satoru raises a brow. 

a moment passes. two, three — the silence is telling. you can hear the discontentment in his voice, despite his attempts to mask it.

”why not?”

”i… haah.” you scoot away, just a little more, turning away so he can’t dissect your expression the way he’d like to. ”i just can’t, okay?”

silently, silently, he observes you. the little of you he can see, at the very least; fixating on the side of your face, your cheek, those fluttering eyelashes. as if it could tell him something. you can’t see the way his eyes narrow, behind his shades, black glass shielding you from the weight of his scrutiny.

satoru bites back a huff. 

curiosity and impatience aside, he feels offended. thoroughly so. he doesn't like it when you shut him out, like this, when you don’t allow him to soothe you.

your relationship has been a slow one — steady, a kind of settling in he never thought he’d experience. calm waves lapping along the edges of smooth sand, washing away tiny pebbles and handfuls of sea glass; delicately coming closer. getting him used to the sensation before gently urging him to take a dip. 

that’s the kind of love you share. 

so it stings, a little, when you won’t let him return the favour. it stings in the same way his phantom scars itch on cold nights.

he knows opening up isn't easy. for you, for anyone, least of all for him — but he still finds himself feeling a little bit dejected. because he's supposed to be your safe space. the person you can trust with absolutely anything.

(if he can’t be that, for you, then what the hell is he even good for?)

he can’t help but feel the slightest tug of worry, too. seeing the tight line of your closed lips, that hardness of your expression. the unmistakable stress accumulating in the corners of your eyes.

but he doesn’t voice that worry. he simply gives your hand another squeeze, and smiles a little wider.

”try me.”

a sigh flows from your lips. ”you don't get it, satoru.”

your voice has a bite to it, now, just a little harsh. something akin to a soft hiss — defensiveness, he ultimately settles on. but why?

”it’s —” you muster up a glance his way, the slightest little peek, before turning away again. blurting out the words on the tip of your tongue. ”it’s so fucking embarrassing. you’ll laugh.”

satoru blinks.

”… huh?”

”you’ll laugh, and you'll tease me, and — ” he feels your hand slip from his own, muffling a groan as it covers your face. ”i’ll never live it down.”

you’re hiding, squirming, and satoru’s curiosity increases at an alarming rate. he leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, but you don’t let him. 

now he’s nothing short of intrigued.

”i won't,” he says, simply. voice as clear as glass. you scoff into your hands.

”you will!”

”i promise you i won't laugh.”

”you always say that.” a sigh falls from your lips, deep and heavy, as your hands finally slip down to your lap. ”but you never mean it. you’ll laugh so much. i know you will.”

you bite down on your lip. he wants to cup your jaw and kiss you, mend the bruising with a swipe of his tongue — but he tactfully decides against it.

”it’s — it's so…” you trail off, fidgeting with your hands, nervously linking your fingers together. gazing down with a pout. ”so stupid.” 

”baby…”  his voice takes on a fond tone, tender and patient. everything he strives to be, when it comes to you; you and you alone. ”c’mon. you can tell me anything.” 

with a sense of delicacy, he takes your hands into his bigger ones. tucking them into his palms, bringing them into his own lap — meeting your meek eyes. 

”right?”

through the blue of his gaze, he watches you falter. watches your eyes soften, crumbling a little, as you silently weigh your options. you look flustered.

then you slowly part your lips.

”you’re gonna think i’m just joking, or whatever, but — but i mean it. i’m…” your throat bobs with a shallow gulp. ”i’m seriously worried.” 

satoru nods. ”i’ll take you seriously.”

you look up. all you’re met with is a reassuring smile, familiar dimples, the slightest hint of a kind blue behind his shades.

and you finally give in.

”i… i think i might —”

shifting and squirming, your gaze flits from spot to spot, hands still intertwined with his own. you’re caged in, forced to face him, and it only adds to your nervosity. his eyes never leave your face.

”i think… i…”

your voice comes out sounding tiny. gaze stuck to the couch beneath you, as your lips form around the right syllables, and you finally blurt out out the words you've been trying to keep at bay —

”i think i love you too much.”

…

silence.

you still refuse to meet his gaze. a red hue crawls up your neck, spreading to the tips of your ears, heartbeat pounding under your ribs. the sentence spills out of your lips like an arrow; so rushed he barely deciphers it in time.

before the silence can swallow you whole, you continue. trying not to stammer, holding back an embarrassed wince. pouting softly, brows furrowed as your clammy hands twitch anxiously against his own. ”like... to the point where… it drives me a little insane.”

and then you wait. with bated breath, too embarrassed to look up, bottom lip tensing and softening between your teeth. dreading the explosive reaction he’ll undoubtedly give you.

… except it doesn’t come.

he’s not saying a word. nothing. the silence is so deafening you could cut it in half, lingering, festering in the air around you. all you hear is your own stupid, erratic little heartbeat — refusing to settle down. 

a couple painful moments pass, before you physically can't take it anymore.

as slowly as you can muster, your gaze travels upwards — from his lap to his chest to his exposed collarbone, until his face finally enters your field of vision. you can’t resist the temptation.

(why is he being so quiet? satoru is never quiet.)

you meet his gaze. or what you think is his gaze, anyhow, because you can’t see the way his eyes are squeezed shut. what you do notice is the twitch of his lips, quivering ever so slightly, as if unsure of which direction to go — and you know one of satoru’s sharp teeth must be biting down hard to keep them in place. his shoulders are shaking, only barely, and he breathes out sharply through his nose; in a desperate attempt to keep his promise.

desperately struggling to maintain his composure. 

he makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and all that effort goes down the drain. met with the sight of your flushed face, wide eyes, shining with embarrassment and disbelief. 

like a stack of cards blown over by the wind, satoru’s poker face crumbles. he fails to bite back the wide grin that breaks out across his lips, showing off the white of his teeth, and a soft bout of fresh laughter flows from out his lips.

you gape at him. 

then your brows furrow, harshly, and you choke on a scoff. with a start, you’re scrambling to stand up, tugging your hands away from his. 

”see?” you hiss, almost tripping over your own two feet as you shoot up from the couch. ”i told you! you're laughing!”

(you sound so embarrassed he thinks he might cry.)

satoru gives up. laughter reverberating throughout his entire body, deep and loud, from the very bottom of his gut — enough to have him clutching at his sides. that only makes you flush deeper, glare harder, and all he can think is that he wants to kiss you silly.

”you promised!”

”i’m —” he chokes on a sharp wheeze, one hand reaching out to keep you from leaving. ”i’m sorry, baby, i —”

but he only ends up doubling over. sputtering with laughter, feeling the leather of the couch meet his cheek. you turn away sharply, and he pulls himself up again. ”wait — sweetheart —” 

a fond chuckle rumbles through his chest, his long arms circling around your waist and pulling you into his embrace. caging you in. you struggle helplessly, trying desperately to break free, but it’s useless — he’s the strongest for a reason.

all you can do is writhe and grumble under your breath, inhaling a familiar scent of vanilla and musk. the fabric softener he uses puts your senses hopelessly at ease, but he’s still laughing — so you can’t help but kick and struggle seamlessly.

”let me go, satoru!”

said man chokes on another little laugh, shoulders shaking, tucking you so close he can feel the pitter patter of your heartbeat against his stomach. you’re so upset with him. but he can’t stop, can't reel it back in, and every weak punch to his chest and muffled protest just makes his composure feel more out of reach. he tried his best. 

he really, really did. 

he tried so hard not to laugh.

(”i think i love you too much.”)

god. just what is he supposed to do with you, huh?

”i’m sorry,” he grins, almost entirely out of breath. ”’m not doing it on purpose, you're just —” 

a sudden fit of giggles. 

"you're so cute.”

”satoru, it’s — not funny,” you whine, practically burning up. every single sound he makes buzzes in your ear. ”i’m serious. i —”

you squeeze your eyes shut. giving in, finally, allowing yourself to melt into his arms. limbs losing their feistiness. he delights in the sensation.

”you don't get it.”

it’s a whisper, muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he hears it nonetheless. deep breaths, he reminds himself. it’s hard to take such an adorable confession seriously, but he tries. for whatever reason, you genuinely sound troubled. 

”wait, so you —” he bites back an amused breath, but can’t hide the palpable smile in his voice. ”you love me… too much?”

a groan. you hide away, nuzzling further into his chest; your safe harbour. 

”… i told you it was embarrassing.”

”it’s not,” he’s quick to console you. ”i’m just confused.” a big palm glides across the back of your head, smoothing down your tousled hair. he pats your head softly. ”i mean…” 

a deep inhale. his heartbeat finally settles into a calm rhythm, slow and steady, lungs flooding with oxygen. he breathes out through his nose.

”is that really such a bad thing?”

”it is.” a frown finds its way onto your lips. your reply is instantaneous. ”i don’t think it’s normal. i’m just…”

satoru listens. patiently, feeling your fingers grip onto the edges of his shirt — comforting yourself with the soft fabric. then you sigh.

”i don’t know. i just can’t, like…” you grapple for the right word, moving your hands haphazardly, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. ”comprehend how much i love you.”

satoru bites back a smile. 

(his heart flutters, flutters, flutters, like cherry blossoms on a windy spring morning.)

before he has the chance to, you part your lips again; speaking in a soft voice. resigned, he thinks. ”it’s just weird. it’s not exactly bad, but —” 

you bite down on your lip. 

”... it’s scary.”

a soft coo buzzes in your ear. satoru can’t help but pull you closer, closer still, smothering you in the warmth of his embrace. conveying what he knows will be too much for you to hear in words — what he knows he couldn’t convey in the language that you speak. you feel warm, still burning up a bit. like a little firefly. 

he isn’t faring much better, though; a vague heat blooming under the skin of his nape. smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt.

(what on earth did he do to deserve you?)

a firm jaw settles on the top of your head. satoru parts his glossy lips, voice flowing out somewhat breathlessly, affectionate as can be. 

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same about you?”

his pulse trembles against you. when you strain your ears, you can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat, mingling with your own; still resounding in your ears. 

”… i dunno.”

satoru’s hold around you tightens, ever so slightly. something in the way he cradles you, strong arms around your waist, a low hum accompanying the light squeeze of his limbs. he can’t see your face, from this angle, but his pupils still flicker downwards — hungry for a glimpse of your expression.

then he smiles. 

”i’m terrified of you, y’know?”

you blink. once, then twice, eyelids fluttering. a moment of silence passes.

”… huh?”

”beyond terrified, actually,” his smile builds into a grin. ”i’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it. no one scares me more than you do.”

satoru pulls away, just a little, just enough to finally get a good look at you. your eyes are brimming with confusion. a large palm goes to cradle your cheek, and he tilts his head — inhaling a breath.

”i love you so much that it hurts.”

…

a soft chuckle slips from out his lips, when he catches your flustered, wide-eyed stare. sneaking a hand towards the small of your back, leaning in to press a kiss against the apple of your cheek.

”i adore you,” he whispers, smooth syllables melting into a purr. you stiffen under his touch. his fingertips trace the lines of your jaw, lips trailing down to your neck, chaste and sweet as he nips at the sensitive skin. muttering under his breath. ”you have no idea.”

and you truly, truly don't. satoru doesn't think you even know the half of it. 

you can’t possibly know what you mean to him — that your very presence makes him forget who he is, what he has to be, a weight on his shoulders he grew used to long ago. you can’t possibly know that just the feeling of your hand in his makes the distance between you feel so inconsequential. 

you are the most precious thing in his life. he doesn't think you could ever understand the weight that sentiment carries — he wouldn't want you to. 

and here you are, so awfully worried, because you're too in love with him. he still can't help but grin. you’re so sweet, so silly. the words make him feel as if his heart is crumbling.

”… i can't believe you’re real sometimes.”

something tender rests under the whisper. something frighteningly sincere. it makes you feel a little like you’ve been sliced open. it’s raw, it’s heavy and light and it’s love. it’s satoru — all his little inconsistencies, and the stability beneath it all. 

and some part of you knows that he's telling the truth. that he understands your ridiculous little confession, your embarrassing worries. satoru understands. 

that alone is enough to quell the turmoil in your chest. 

(what he gives you is a love as boundless as the sky; one that covers everything you could ever be. unconditional.)

”so there’s no need to worry.” 

he pulls back, lips leaving your skin. you still feel their warmth linger. his shades have slipped down, barely hanging on to the bridge of his nose, and you can see the blue of his eyes. they’re shining like jewels, soft around the edges. consumed by love.

”there’s no way you could ever love me as much as i love you.”

gazing into his eyes, as if hypnotized by their glow, your own gleam with a mesmerizing shine. glazed over with something sweet and wonderful, something satoru wants to burn into his retinas so he never forgets it. he wishes he could wring it out of you and put it in his pocket — but it looks prettier behind your cornea.

he savours the moment, slowly, until it abruptly ends.

with a second of pause, your brows draw together, forming into an irritated furrow. lips tugging downwards into a frown. ”that’s not true.”

satoru blinks. still smiling. 

”i love you way more,” you huff. petulant, almost, something soft and amused in your tone. he thinks the sound fits you more than anything; unburdened and stubborn.

(as charming as you are, though — this is one battle he refuses to lose.)

”nu-uh,” he pokes the tip of your nose, delighting in the soft flutter of your blinking eyelashes. ”i love you more. sorry, sweetie.”

a huff. ”you don't.”

”i do.”

”you don't."

this time, you're the one reaching out, the pad of your finger landing on the tip of satoru’s nose — teasingly trailing up to the bridge of it. his heartbeat stutters, but he feigns nonchalance, raising an unimpressed brow; eyes unknowingly gleaming with mirth. 

and mischief.

you barely have time to react. one moment you're seated on satoru’s lap, the next you're looking up at him with your back against the couch. he towers over you, keeping your hands pinned above your head with a single palm. 

a familiar chill runs down your spine.

”i do,” he grins, free hand reaching towards you. recognizing the danger of a situation you've been in more times than you can count, you try to squirm away — but you don't get very far.

satoru’s fingers ghost over your sides, and panic floods your wide eyes. 

even though you know exactly what’s about to happen, a yelp still pushes past your lips when he begins to tickle you. mercilessly, fingers trailing over your most sensitive spots. all you can do is squirm, trying your damnedest to bite back the bout of laughter crawling up your throat —

but apparently neither of you are very good at that.

when the familiar cling of your laughter finally spills past your lips, flowing into satoru’s ears, his smile blooms into a grin. big and happy, childish in its innocence — not even attempting to hide his joy. his own giggles melt into your soft wheezes and desperate pleas, as you struggle to break free, straining against the firm hold he has on your wrists.

”i love you way, way, way more,” he continues to tease, halting his movement just enough to let you catch your breath. ”it’s not even close.”

even as giggles breathlessly spill from your lips, you manage a shake of your head. ”no, you —”

”wrong answer.”

he cuts you off with a smirk, and the torture starts anew. you can't get the words out, caught in your throat and muffled by a loud squeak, followed by forced laughter. satoru watches, in pure adoration, waiting for the moment you finally relent. 

it doesn’t take long.

”f — fine, fine!”

he stills. eyes crinkled, shades barely hanging on to the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to keep going. if only so he can hear your melodic giggles.

”can’t we —” you struggle to catch your breath, words stuck between bouts of leftover laughter. cheeks flushed and chest heaving. ”just call it a tie?”

satoru pauses. he drags it out, exaggerated, building up suspense. eyes narrowing playfully. ”hmmm…” 

then he smiles. a soft, resigned little thing. 

”alright, alright.” he leans forward, keeping you in place. ”that works, i guess.”

and then his lips meet yours. soft and glossy, tasting of cherries, a pleased sigh against your mouth. you’re still panting a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind — slow to pull away, with a drawn out mwah, grinning boyishly at your disheveled state. he lets your wrists go free.

an unimpressed look is all you give him, quick to melt into a soft chuckle. 

”well, that’s that.” you push yourself up with your elbows, fixing your tousled hair. ”now we can forget this ever happened.”

satoru raises a brow. 

”oh, i dunno about that,” he purrs, voice ripe with mischief. a teasing glint flashes in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you, and it’s enough to have your face heating up again. the sight makes him coo. ”you love me so much you can't comprehend it, huh?”

you blink. it takes a moment for your expression to shift, from bafflement to embarrassment — but he thinks it’s all worth it when it does. barely restraining the urge to kiss you again.

”satoru…”

a giggle leaves his lips. reaching a hand out, he pinches your cheek. ”you’re cute.”

with a roll of your eyes, you swat him away; unable to bite back a smile. “quit it.”

”aw.”

he looks so smug. you can’t help but want to bite back, somehow — so you muster up your most shit-eating grin, a distinctly teasing lilt coating your sugar-sweet voice. 

”you love me so much that it hurts, huh?”

satoru blinks.

endearment blooms, in the depths of his cerulean eyes. he watches you carefully, awfully amused — thinking to himself that he must be rubbing off on you. what a scary thought.

”yeah,” he breathes, a sigh laced with sincerity. cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand, settling on the option he knows will fluster you most. ”i do.”

this time, you’re the one who blinks. once, twice, before letting out a groan — slumping against his broad frame. satoru chuckles, breathlessly, consumed by you; by every move you make. all six of his eyes aimed directly at you.

(if he gives you the sky, then what you give him is a love as steady as the ocean; one that’ll drown every bit of his sadness. entirely unyielding.)

”can’t you ever just let me win?” you mutter, breathing in his cologne and tugging at his shirt. pressed up against him, on his couch, safe and secure. right where you should be.

he noses at your neck, pressing a little kiss against your pulsepoint. a quiet, quiet offering at the altar of your soul. ”nope,” he hums, smiling cheekily. 

”i love you too much for that.”

[pellucid-constellations]

A Promise

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: As war inches closer on the horizon, Azriel reminds you of a promise you made to him—one you aren't sure you can keep.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst <3

a/n: Hi I haven't written in a few WEEKS (sorry) 😭 Here's this to get me back in the swing of things

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Promise me you’ll run,” Azriel pleaded, his forehead resting against yours. “Anything happens up here and you flee. Promise me.” 

You fought the instinctual shake of your head, always so quick to reassure him—to tell him that nothing would happen. But you couldn’t promise that. Not with a war raging in the distance and you within its throes. 

“I can’t run,” you whispered. “I have an obligation, a duty. I can’t.” 

Azriel’s breath came out as a sharp exhale, the warm air brushing your jaw as he turned his head to your temple. His hands fought for the purchase of your waist, pulling you close until your bodies melded. 

He stayed silent, but you could feel the turmoil heaving down the bond in heavy ropes. Someone called for buckets of water on the opposite side of the camp. Azriel remained pressed against you, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed. 

“I’m sorry, Azriel.” 

You had told him you wouldn’t be part of this war. But it came on suddenly, unexpectedly, and you couldn’t refuse the High Lord’s request. Your gift was too valuable to stay locked up in Velaris when Autumn and Spring were rebelling against the masses. How could you not aid your mate in this fight?

“We haven’t had enough time,” Azriel croaked.

Something within you fractured and you turned to meet his gaze—to coax his eyes open and capture the full picture of his features. “We will have so much more time, my love. This won’t go the way that you think.”

But you had no gift of clairvoyance, and you’d never fought in a war before. With your hands pressed to Azriel’s cheeks and your head tilted to catch his eyes, you wondered what could have happened in the wars he had fought to cause him so much strife. 

You counted his family members in your head—all alive, none lost to war. 

Nothing to match the tortured expression staring back at you. 

“Me first,” he spoke, so low it was almost lost in the bustle of the camp. “When we die. It’ll be me first.” 

Your brows came together with a sigh. “Azriel—” 

“No,” he countered. He brushed your hands from his face and backed you up until you were behind your tent, a tree meeting your shoulder blades. Azriel’s feet slotted between yours as he bent down. His eyes raced between yours. “I die first. You agreed to that.” 

“There’s no way I could really—” 

“You agreed.” 

You bit into your lip, ignoring the vice-like grip your mate had on the sleeve of your leathers.

You had agreed, but it had seemed like such a small request at the time—something so easy to give him. You had whispered your submission to his worried words if only to ease the distraught way he looked at you. 

Breaking a promise was not something you were keen to do, but thinking on it now—thinking about life without him—it was an unbearable ask. 

“Y/n,” Azriel stressed. Because the camp was getting rowdy and unsettled. It was almost time for him to depart.

Your lips remained sealed, any ease of your expression lost to harsh lines and sharp movements. You had promised. You had agreed. But what if this was a bargain you actually had to do good on? What if you were faced with death, with a choice, and you ran from it? What if that choice left you alone? 

You hadn’t had enough time together. Azriel’s truth bounced around in your head as the shadowsinger beseeched you with his eyes. Barely mated a year, this war had not been kind to your plans. Perhaps that was why you had been so ready to allow your mate to die before you. 

Because you hadn’t had enough time to consider just what that meant. 

“I can’t live without you,” you admitted as if it were a revelation and not a fact ingrained in your being. “I can’t live when you aren’t here.” Your gaze, which had been locked on Azriel’s shoulder—empty, pondering, lost—raced up in search of your mate’s. “I didn’t mean to promise that to you. I can’t… I can’t, Azriel.” 

Panic had begun to drown you. Breathing was difficult. Your hands began to shake. 

This was becoming too real, too much. A figurative imagining materializing in the form of wrinkled tents and pleading eyes. 

You could lose Azriel. 

This was a war, and it was gruesome and cruel and unfair. 

No one cared that you’d only had a year with your mate, and there was certainly no pity from the enemy that you’d never experienced this insurmountable fear. 

You lost the image of your mate to blurry vision and stinging eyes. You pressed harder into the tree at your back, running through the possibilities—all the ways you could lose. It was no longer about not running, but what would happen if you did. 

Azriel’s gentle hush fought for dominance over your labored breathing. His fingers abandoned their grip on your clothes and traced your face instead, brushing back your hair and swiping the tears that had unknowingly begun running down your jaw. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he comforted. “I didn’t mean to make you panic. My love, look at me. Please.” 

You gasped. “No, no, I can’t. You wouldn't be saying this if you thought—you think we won’t win. You think you’re going to leave me. That you’re going to—”

Another choking gasp. 

But you still met Azriel’s eye. 

No tears there—only a grief you couldn't fathom. “We h-haven’t had enough time,” you said, speaking it out into the world again. 

Azriel’s responding breath was achingly broken. It seemed to hurt his chest as it left him. “Oh, my love.” He kissed your forehead, his next words spoken into your hairline. “You forget what I said, alright? I won’t leave and neither will you. We will meet right back here.” 

“Right back here,” you agreed. 

And it was true that you made a promise—two, to be exact. But promises were often only placeholders for fear.

[cosmicdahlias]

Breeding You Under a Full Moon

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

Your research partner has been acting bizarrely ever since he was bitten by a creature he caught. He’s taken off into the woods and when you find him he’s no longer the human you know.

warnings: shameless monsterfucking, lycanthropy, werewolf anatomy (knots), furry adjacent, blood, biting, breeding, impreg, pregnancy

with spooky month fast approaching on monday i thought i’d give y’all a monsterfucker fic! i’ve always been a fan of werewolves (and their knots owo), ya’ll furries and fellow monsterfuckers know what i’m talkin’ about. also i included some pregnancy fluff at the end because y’all have been asking for it and i really struggled to turn it into a full fic

“FORD! FORD!”

You called out for your research partner in the dark forest. Snow crunched under your boots as you shined your lantern at the ground, illuminating his footprints. A full moon hung brightly overhead.

Your partner had seemed strange ever since he was been bitten by one of the creatures he’d been studying. His teeth appeared sharper. His eyes turned a beautiful amber hue, but somehow oddly inhuman. You walked in on him tearing apart raw meat with his teeth. He would stare at you, animalistic and hungry.

Tonight you found him in his lab, tables and chairs overturned, papers strewn about the floor. You tried to ask him what was wrong but he took off, fleeing into the darkness of night. You chased after him. He had always been a little neurotic, but even this was out of the ordinary.

You called out to him again. “FORD!”

You caught movement of a figure in the light. You held up your lantern, squinting.

“Ford?”

He turned to you, he looked disheveled, his hair wild, shirt unbuttoned and torn.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He panted.

“Ford, I was so worried. Why did you run off like that? What the hell is going on with you? You’ve been acting so weird ever since you got bit.”

You took a step forward, Ford recoiled, terror spreading across his face.

“Stay back, get out of here! Something’s happening to me and I don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“No, Ford, you look terrible. Let me help you. Come on, let’s get back inside and out of the cold before you-“

His breathing became ragged, he panted, his breath visible in the cold air.

“RUN!” He yelled, his sharp teeth bared, voice in an unnaturally deeper register.

He dropped on all fours, his clothes tearing at the seams. Shaggy fur the same color as his dark hair began to grow all over his body, covering him in a thick pelt. His mouth transformed into a long muzzle, teeth elongating into fangs as sharp as daggers. Long, razorlike claws grew in from his nails. Ears, unmistakably wolflike, sprouted from the top of his head. His muscles had doubled in size and he had grown at least two feet in height.

He stood and your eyes dropped immediately between his legs. His length had turned a deep crimson, frighteningly large and knotted at the base of his shaft.

He tilted his head toward the clear starry sky and let out a deafening howl. He turned his gaze to you, eyes full of the same animalistic hunger he had shown in the days prior.

Shameless excitement pulsed through you. You had read more than enough about werewolves, studied their anatomy. Knots had always fascinated you and you longed to know what it would feel like to be fucked by werewolf cock. You knew werewolves had an insatiable propensity to breed, and that sex with one was said to be life changing. An opportunity was staring at you right in the face and you weren’t about to pass it up. You approached him.

His ears pulled back and he gave a warning snarl. “Don’t.”

You continued coming closer, so close that you could smell him, his scent was different, a slight musk.

“Get back, it’s taking everything in me right now to not tear you apart.”

“Ford, I know what you want, I want it too.”

You set down your lantern and reached a hand down and stroked his knot, it’s heat incredibly welcoming in the cold.

He stared down at you, licking his lips. “Please, I won’t- I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“I don’t want you to.”

You took his muzzle in your free hand and kissed him, he struggled to pull away.

“Aren’t you terrified of me?”

“I’m not afraid, I like it rough.”

With your words he couldn’t take it anymore, he growled, pouncing on you and pinning you to the ground. He ripped your clothes to shreds with his claws, the remains acting as a makeshift blanket between you and the snow. He lowered his massive head between your thighs. You tangled your fingers in his fur.

He shoved his snout into your pussy and began lapping at your clit with his large, wet tongue. He gripped your thighs and you moaned as he dug his claws into the soft flesh, blood dripping into the snow.

He licked at you greedily, his senses were heightened and you tasted incredible.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.”

You arched your back, bucking your hips against his tongue. Your breathing increased, orgasm building. He pulled back and you whined as he removed his maw from your clit, only for him to unfurl his tongue inside you, curling it on your g-spot, his hot breath against your pussy. You tightened around his tongue as you came undone on him. Your moans cutting through the silent forest.

Ford shifted himself to be on top of you.

He held your hips down as he angled his leaking cock at your entrance. He tried to be gentle but his werewolf instincts took over as he rammed himself inside you, but still taking care to keep his knot from entering, he knew it’d be too much for you to take. His girth stretched you wide, eliciting a moan, he took the opportunity to force his tongue down your open mouth.

He began to pump himself into you, panting, his tongue hanging from his maw. God, he felt incredible even if his cock was tearing you apart. You rolled your hips back on him. He gave out a growl.

“Fuck, I always liked you, but I had no idea you wanted me like this.”

The slick, wet sounds of him slipping in and out of you reverberated through the forest, punctuated by your moans and his animalistic noises. He bit your neck, making sure to not break the skin, he didn’t want to turn you.

“God ever since I was bitten fucking you was all I could think about. I wanted to claim you, make you mine and now that I have you-“ leaned down low and whispered in your ear “I’m gonna make you carry my pups.”

You tightened around him at his words. He was close, he placed a clawed hand to your throat and fucked into you aggressively. He was trying desperately to keep himself from knotting in you, but his instincts took over once again and he forced his knot deep inside you. You cried out, spasming around him, the mixture of pain and pleasure was so overwhelming that you came immediately. The sensation tipped him over the edge, he spilled his hot seed deep inside your pussy, impregnating you. He howled into the night.

He huffed, trying to catch his breath. “Now unfortunately I can’t pull out yet, it’ll just hurt you or me, we have to wait for the knot to go down.”

He sunk his weight into you, his soft fur was like a blanket. He was so warm, like a furnace, it was heaven in the bitter cold.

“You know, this is gonna happen every month, I’d be more than happy to help settle your breeding urges.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” He smirked.

You reached up and scratched behind his ear, he gave an approving whine, leaning his head into your touch.

“Fuck, now I see why dogs love this so much.”

You laughed. “Well, I always wanted my own dog.”

His lips curled into a smile. “I promise I’ll be your good boy.”

He had softened inside you, he slowly pulled out. You kissed his maw and he licked your cheek.

“Now let’s get you out of the elements before you catch a cold.”

He scooped you into his arms and made his way back to the cabin. He opened the door, paws padding on the hardwood and laid you down by the fire. He turned in circles on all fours a few times before lying down beside you, his chest pressed against your back. He delicately traced his claw over your curves, it made you shiver. You laid in silence for a while before he spoke.

“I think we both know it’s clear now that we have feelings for each other, and I was thinking, maybe we could go steady, be a real couple.”

You turned over to face him, taking his muzzle in your hands and kissing him.

“I’d love that.”

His tail wagged, thumping on the floor.

-

Weeks had gone by and you were plagued with nausea and abdominal cramps. You had your suspicions and tried to ignore it, but the symptoms persisted. You bit the bullet and bought a pregnancy test. You stood in the bathroom staring at the little plastic stick on the sink, waiting. Two lines appeared… shit.

The drive to Ford’s place felt like an eternity. You walked up to the cabin, let out a sigh and knocked on the door. Ford answered, wasting no time kissing you.

“Hey there, how’s my stardust doing?”

“Ford, we need to talk.”

He looked visibly nervous. “I- is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, you might wanna sit down for this.”

You made your way inside, he sat down on the couch.

“So what’s going on? You’ve got me really worried.”

You took a deep breath. “Ford, I’m pregnant.”

He was silent for a moment. “Y-you’re sure?”

“Positive as the test I took this morning.”

He stood up and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Oh, stardust, that’s wonderful. Have you set up doctor’s appointments? We need to get you on prenatal vitamins. You should-“

You kissed him.

“Ford, you’re doing that thing where you get ahead of yourself again.”

He chuckled. “I guess I am.”

[leggerefiore]

I think itd be hilarious if reader was kidnapped by the evil team leaders only for them to realize reader has SEVERE stockholm syndrome

guessing this is a yandere request...? I added volo

cw: yandere, dark content, kidnapping, uh bad ending ig in a way lol

characters: Cyrus, Volo, Lysandre, Giovanni

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ There was nothing but immense shame over his actions on his mind. This was a pitiful submission to woeful human emotions – He wanted to be rid of them, yet the thought of you escaping him made his stomach churn painfully and left him with worse insomnia than he already faced. It was a sickness – A genuine physical ailment that plagued him. His actions were pitiful. He despised them. But, having you in his grasp eased the harsh feeling that ate at his heart otherwise. You were safe. All the irrational thoughts that had plagued his mind faded. He could close his eyes for but a moment and finally rest. When you awoke, he was certain there would be harsh reality to face, but for now, those sickening emotions – his disgusting spirit – were at ease. He swallowed. Something in him dared allow him the ability to lay at your side. Your presence alone was enough to lull him into the sweet confines of unconscious.

☄️ When he awoke, it was to a weight on top of him. His heavy eyes opened. His arms had wrapped around whatever laid on top of him. Warmth soaked into him in a way that felt completely foreign to him. His gaze focused on what was on top of him. You. Your eyes were open and staring into his own bleary ones. Your hands were still bound carefully, but somehow, you seemed not at all bothered by your current situation. Cyrus quickly regained himself and moved you back to lay beside him. A whine came from you as you whined about not being able to cuddle with him properly. What were you talking about—? You should have been horrified, yet you looked more upset that he dared stop holding you to himself. He swallowed. Something was wrong here. You kept whinging so genuinely about wanting to go back to cuddling.

☄️ Soon after, your behaviour showed no faults or waning. You simply acted like this was some kind of normal relationship. He was out of his mind about the whole thing. It was illogical – You should have been afraid and angry, yet you clung to him and treated him like a normal partner. Even when left unmonitored and unbound, you never tried to flee the apartment. It was beyond his understanding. Truly, it should have been everything that he wanted, but the lucidity of the situation made accepting it nearly impossible. You seemed confused about why he questioned you when he did, simply stating that you only loved him. In the end, he supposes that this, too, must be an effect of spirit. His main worry then becomes what will become of you and himself when he finally succeeds in removing spirit. Assuredly, then, you would stay with him even still. It only seemed right.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ He felt nothing for his actions. Was he aware they could have horrible consequences? Certainly. Did he care? Perhaps, somewhere deep down. The merchant felt almost certain that he would get away with it. You were an outsider like him. The Galaxy Team would have a few common searches before ultimately giving up and deeming you AWOL or likely dead. He hoped for the latter, but he had failed to set up a proper scene to help better lead them to that conclusion. His decision to take you had been made entirely on the fly. Not his best moment, but he supposed his careful planning, coming into danger alongside you threatening to abandon him, set him off in a way that he had never truly felt before. Simple desperation had consumed him. You had been dragged off to a remote, hidden area of Hisui. It was unlikely that anyone would ever find you, nor would you get away.

⭐️ When you awoke, he had expected you to shout, scream, and attack him, but you seemed to relax instead. He thought your behaviour was strange. There was a chance that you were doing it in order to force yourself to have better control of the situation. He would scoff at that. You were bound quite carefully and in an extremely remote area. Your pokeballs were also taken by him. You were truly st your weakest point. So, when you smiled at him and asked what this was. He felt his mind break a bit. Your smile… Was this manipulation? He pondered what your game here was. Unlike you, he would not allow himself to relax. Whatever act this was… Your seemingly genuine affection and acceptance… He would see through it. Volo was fully aware of many things.

⭐️ … Except how genuine you were being. Your apparent affection and love for him never lessened, nor did it seem forced. Your feelings were genuine. He was bewildered by this. Even when he tested you by leaving you unbound when he “left,” you simply began to household duties or wait for him to return. He was astonished by this. This was not at all what he predicted, but he was supposed to were not the worst possible things. Your genuine love… He could only smirk. Taking you as he had felt so useless now… It was clear that you were not going anywhere. Those foolish concerns felt completely far off from himself. It was easy for him to lose himself in it all. His perfect world… He could feel it so closely when he was with you. The blond could not wait to truly make it a reality. Your shared love would only grow stronger there.

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ It was not his best moment. Not by far. There was a part of him that burned with shame, while a larger part simply accepted that this was just how things were going to have to be. He had become frightened. Your refusal to join Team Flare – and even daring to attempt to flee from him – was driving him to extreme lengths. Losing you, such a beautiful and perfect being, was not an option. So, he used his connections and secured you quite easily. His Lumiosian apartment was soundproof, so there was little concern for anything. It was kept carefully locked, too. You would be safe here until he finally used to the Ultimate Weapon to create a perfect world. He would have all your needs and wants tended to, yet he would absolutely make certain that you could not dare escape from him. That was simply something that he refused to accept. Whatever disgust he may have felt for his own actions had to be cast aside in favour of your believed best interests.

☕️ So, when you awoke, he readied himself for curses and threats. The worst would come before the better… Yet, you did not. Your eyes stared at him intently while seemingly figuring out your surroundings. Then, you smiled. A genuine smile. One so sweet and loving that he found himself at a loss for words. What… was this? While Lysandre knew that his actions had been for your best interest, he had not expected you to feel similarly. Well, he assumed that was how you felt. You only asked that he unbind you. He did so, readying himself again for a possible violent outburst, but it never came. Instead, you hugged him tightly and mumbled out about your love for him. He was shocked into silence. This… This was not at all a predicted response – especially with how you had tried to run quite literally just before. Part of him remained on edge this was fake, but the other more desperate half just wanted all this to be real.

☕️ Naturally, he tests you to see just how real your actions are. You continue to shock him with how you genuinely seemed to be in love with him. He describes your behaviour patterns to one of those in Team Flare, and they note that you had likely developed Stockholm syndrome. Quite quickly, they added, but your behaviours did align. He felt disgusted yet contented that such behaviours had been drawn out of you. You still refused to join Flare, but he supposed that was alright since now he could protect you more directly. You would be following after him whether you wanted to or not – And you almost seemed to want to if it did not involve his group. He supposed that whatever feelings you held for Flare were pointless since you would be joining him in his perfect world. You were his lover, after all. That was something you had made more than clear in your constant demands for his affection and attention.

🚀Giovanni🐈

🟥 It was easy to arrange and done with little hesitation. Giovanni was quite used to taking what he wanted with little question. So when you, a trainer who started opposing Rocket, had denied him what he wanted. Well, he simply took matters into his own hands. It was a bit of annoyance having to deal with you constantly disrupting his plans and making him look weak to his underlings. You even had the gall to deny his offerings of joining his organisation, stating you were above his criminality. He wanted to scoff. Trying to run from him… How utterly useless that had been. You were taken deep into one of his safehouses as he debated just what do with you when you woke up. Screaming and crying would be annoying to deal with usually, but some part of him was excited to see you at such a low point.

🟥 That was not to come, however. When you finally woke up, you were a bit shocked, yes, but seemingly calmed down once you saw the Rocket boss. You struggled against the cuffs that trapped your wrists to the headboard. He cocked a brow when you asked him politely to unlock you. Giovanni only replied by leaning over you to intimidate you and threaten that you were not in a place to make demands. But, instead, you tried to rain up to meet his lips. The older man was shocked momentarily before chuckling. Oh, what was this? Were you attempting to fawn over a fight or flight reaction. Fascinating. There would be no complaints from him on such things. You could not pull a fast one on him, either. He would be careful to observe just what you were doing and why.

🟥 Though, he was stunned to see you never faltered. This apparent love you felt for him was real enough. You were insistent enough that he let you have some freedoms that he did eventually relent. When he finally did, there were no true escape attempts. At worst, you tried to follow him out whenever you felt that he had failed to give you adequate attention, but it was not really an attempt at fleeing and regaining your lost freedom. He was fully aware of what had happened to you. This was not his first time observing such a thing, but he supposed he quite preferred it when it was someone that he had an interest in over some random target that his group brought in for whatever reason. Due to your strong feelings for him mixed with your desperation to stay near him, it was not hard to convince you to take his offer to join Rocket this time around. Whatever oddities had brought about the situation, he could only be happy that it brought the exact results he wanted.

[hikari3601]

We’ll be a Fine Line

Home page

Pairing | Al Haitham x Reader

Author’s Note | I’m really sorry for the super long wait.

CW/TW | Al Haitham’s mean :(

Synopsis | Flinching away from him during an argument.

The line between distance and disregard is a fine one, something that Al Haitham seemed to have overlooked. The Scribe -who lives off of rationality as if it were air, found that space seemed to be the most efficient means towards a peaceful resolution during conflict, yet it all turned sour somewhere down the line and worst of all, its toxicity was so steadily progressive that it only became noticeable when it was nigh impossible to ignore it.

Several arguments had passed without any form of resolution and with every person in the Academia five seconds away from an aneurysm, as Acting Grand, Sage Al Haitham was not in the best of moods.

~~

“Haitham.” You called from behind the door, patiently waiting with his lunch in hand, yet silence was all that ensued in the following moments, thus you called again, a little louder this time…still nothing.

Deciding to try your luck at entering you turned the handle, perhaps he had an errand to run and was out for a bit, you thought.

Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and lo and behold sat Al Haitham at his desk, hair slightly tousled and his cape laying on the couch. He looked up at you questioningly. “Can I help you Y/N?”

“I knocked to see if you were in.” You explained, “I guess you didn’t hear me.”

He remained unmoving for several seconds, his eyes trained on the papers in front of him and after he placed the page down he allowed his gaze to briefly flicker towards you. “I heard it.”

Taking a few steps towards into the office, you took note of the cold atmosphere surrounding him but decided against commenting. “Why didn’t you answer?” You asked instead, placing his favourite meal on his desk.

“I was busy.” He deadpanned, eyes glued on the new page in front of him.

Your gaze drifted across his large frame, “When was the last time you slept?” You inquired, noting the dark circles on the skin surrounding his turquoise eyes.

“I took a little nap some few hours ago.”

A frown took form on your lips. “A nap in your office doesn’t count. When was the last time you got over five hours of sleep in your bed.” You urged, your frustration growing at his dismissive attitude.

He sighed, laying his papers on his desk with a loud ‘slap’ and looking up at you with a slight glare. “What is it you came for Y/N, unlike you I’m busy.”

“I’m here to check up on you Al Haitham.” You felt your aggravation grow in spite of your efforts to remain level-headed. “You’ve been working non stop and I’m worried about you.”

“Well, as you can see Y/N I’m perfectly well. Now, if you would kindly leave my office—“

“Why are you being like this?” You finally sighed, your patience beginning to waver.

“Because I have work to do. I don’t have time to laze around with you.”

“Laze around with me?” You echoed. “I may not be the Acting Grand Sage, Al Haitham, but that doesn’t mean I’m not working. I stop what I’m doing every day just to see if you’re alright…because Archons know that if I don’t, you’d be skipping meals daily!”

“I’m not some child Y/N, I don’t need you to look after me, now if you would please leave my office, I’m wasting time with this discussion.”

“How on earth do you think it’s right to treat people like this?” You snapped, the festering heat in your chest reaching its peak. “I’m worried about you because I care!”

“If you really cared…” He rose from his seat, approaching you with a steadiness that left you uneasy. “you would have left Y/N instead of wasting my time!”

His last words echoed throughout the room, but what was truly deafening to the man was your reaction —the way you stepped away from him as if preparing to flee.

Groaning at his actions, he lifted a hand to his already dishevelled hair in a poor attempt to calm his racing mind but watched in horror as you flinched.

Disgust soon washed over him like a tidal wave.

You thought he would hurt you?

Archons, he did hurt you… though not physically. It dawned on him that he had been treating you abrasively for the last few months, yet you still remained nothing short of kind and patient towards him.

He didn’t deserve you, he thought, yet a part of him selfishly feared that you’d leave him after today.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, and although his voice had grown soft, his eyes trembled with unspoken words of guilt and regret, the sight stubbornly pulling at your heart until you bridged the gap between the two of you and quietly took him into your arms.

He hesitated to reciprocate, worried that he’d cause you more alarm, but all it took was you tightening your hold around his torso for him to wrap his arms around you, settling his head against the crook of your neck.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m sorry.”

[candycandy00]

Character:Hawks

AU setting:Gothic Mansion

Spice Level:NSFW

Mood:Light

Kinks:Breeding, Bondage, Choking

~🦄

The Chase - A Hawks x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Hawks as a vampire. Fem Reader. Bondage. Choking. Creampie. Vampire-related blood/biting. 

My first time writing Hawks! I hope it turned out okay! Any feedback would be adored! Divider by @benkeibear.

When you first met Keigo at the cafe, the location you both agreed upon after talking on a dating app for almost a week, you were surprised. He certainly didn’t look 5’11. But height was never really important to you, so you didn’t mind. He was hotter than his pictures led you to believe, with a bright smile and an easy going attitude that appealed to you. 

When you asked him what he did for a living, he’d only said, “A little bit of everything over the years.”

He was only what, twenty-five? How many different jobs could he have had? But you dismissed it as a joke. You noticed he didn’t eat much, mostly just poking at his food or sliding it around on his plate. It almost felt like he was trying to make it look like he was eating. But his laugh was infectious, and he had plenty of funny stories to tell about traveling to different countries. You wondered how he found the time for all of that. 

At the end of the date, he took you home. You stood in front of your door, hoping he would kiss you, but he didn’t so much as pat you on the back. 

You went on a couple more dates after that, always at night. You joked that you were worried you’d never get to see him in daylight, and he’d laughed heartily. “What? You think I’m a vampire or something?”

“Maybe you are,” you said, giggling. 

He tilted his head, strands of dark blonde hair sliding over one eye as he said, “Maybe I am.”

There was a heat to his gaze as he said it, making goosebumps appear along your arms. And for the briefest of moments, you felt the most powerful urge to flee. You ignored such an irrational feeling. Keigo had been nothing but a gentleman, and in all honesty you were looking forward to him not being one anymore. 

On the fourth date, he asked if you’d like to come to his place for drinks. When you agreed, he said, “I’ll warn you, my house is pretty big. Been in my family for generations. Just don’t be freaked out.”

Now, as you sit in the passenger side of his cherry red convertible on your way to his place for the first time, you wonder how you could possibly be freaked out over a house. 

Until he pulls into the driveway. 

“Is that a fucking castle?!” you blurt out. 

The paved driveway, leading past an ornate, open gate, heads straight to a beautiful looming castle. It looks like something from a movie, probably about Dracula. The stone structure is huge, with literal towers! And though it looks like it was built in the Middle Ages, there are modern flourishes.

All the doors and windows appear to be new, and a lavish standalone garage sits nearby. The lighting is extraordinary, with beautiful colors being beamed at the castle from all directions. Without that, pulling up to this place at night would have been terrifying. 

Keigo laughs beside you. “Yep, it’s a castle.”

You turn to look at him. “Do you live here all by yourself?”

“I have a staff of people helping me run the place, but they all went home for the weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, realizing the two of you will be alone in this enormous building. A weird little thought crosses your mind, that you could get lost in this place, or that he could easily trap you here. You dismiss it, because so far Keigo has been really sweet. You don’t understand why you keep subconsciously thinking of him as a predator. 

And besides, you’re insanely attracted to him. You don’t think you’d mind him chasing you through this castle and fucking you against a wall. In fact you’re a little disappointed that he hasn’t made any moves on you. He hasn’t even touched you yet. 

“I didn’t realize you were rich,” you tell him as the two of you walk up to the door. He hasn’t even put his arm around you. Is he shy? Or just trying to be respectful? 

“I don’t like to advertise it on dating sites. I don’t need a bunch of young girls looking for a sugar daddy,” he replies, an easy smile on his face. 

That makes sense, though with his good looks, you doubt any women who approach him would be interested only in his money. 

Once inside, you find the interior is just as fancy as the exterior. It looks like the sort of house you would imagine royalty living in. High ceilings, plush carpets in some rooms with delicate tile work in others, rich furnishings in mahogany and gold, expensive paintings on the walls, a roaring fireplace big enough for at least three Santa’s to comfortably stand in. And again the mixture of antique and modern, ancient looking vases and art pieces beside a state of the art entertainment system. 

You look around in awe as he leads you down a hallway, through two different short corridors, and across a huge dining room to reach a kitchen. It’s the most modern room you’ve seen so far, brightly lit with beautiful marble countertops and all the best in appliances. 

The thought you had earlier returns to you as Keigo pops open a bottle of champagne - that you could get lost in this massive castle. You try to remember the exact turns the two of you took to reach this room, what the halls looked like as you walked through them. Could you quickly run back to the front entrance if you need to? 

Wait, why would you need to? Why do you keep imagining scenarios like that? 

Keigo is chatty and friendly as usual as he pours champagne into two crystal glasses and sits them both on the counter near you, subtly allowing you to choose the glass you want. He’s telling you about his great great great grandfather, also named Keigo, who lived here so long ago. 

“He was a weird old hermit, or so I’ve been told,” he says. “Spent years hiding out in this castle, letting the neighbors think whatever they wanted. It caused a lot of crazy rumors to spread about him.”

You sip your drink as you nod along. “What kind of rumors?” you ask. 

Keigo gives you that look again, the one that seems to be full of desire, and something else you can’t quite identify. The one that simultaneously makes you want to mount him and run away from him in terror. “That he was a vampire.”

You laugh. “People were so superstitious back then!” But in truth, you just felt an inexplicable chill run down your spine. 

Just then you notice that, while Keigo is holding the other glass in his hand, he’s never taken a sip. It’s a little suspicious, but maybe he’s just a light drinker, or he’s being careful since he has to drive you home later. Nothing to worry about, right? So why are alarm bells ringing in your mind?

And why does that excite you?

He sits the glass on the counter and steps a bit closer to you. There’s nothing explicitly threatening about the motion, but you find yourself drawing in a sharp breath. He stops when he’s close enough to touch you if he wants. Why won’t he touch you? His hands are so close. His body is so close! You imagine him bending you over his fancy countertops and fucking you right here in his pristine kitchen. 

“What about you?” he asks, snapping you back to reality. “Are you superstitious?”

You take another sip and try to project nonchalance. “Not at all. I don’t believe in monsters.”

He tilts his head again in that way that drives you mad. “You should. We’re definitely real.”

Huh? ‘We’? You laugh, almost touching his arm playfully but stopping yourself. “You’re really funny, Keigo.”

He smiles at you, that same easy going smile that charmed you from the beginning. “You’re funny too,” he says, “the way you keep pretending you don’t realize what I am.”

There they are again, the alarm bells, singing loudly in your brain, urging you to flee. The smile fades from your lips “What are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know what it is, some kind of gene or something, but some people just instinctively know,” he says, his tone casual. Friendly. “And usually, those same people send out their own signals, whether they know it or not. Just like you can sense that I’m a predator, I can sense that you’re wired to be the perfect prey.”

You back away a few inches, leaving your glass on the counter. Your heart is pounding wildly. “I don’t understand.”

He grins. “See? There it is again. You’re scared, naturally, but you’re excited too. You’re enjoying this. I can sense your pulse getting quicker, hear your heartbeat getting faster, and…” his eyes shift down your body, “can smell how wet you’re getting.”

You flush with embarrassment. He’s never said anything remotely sexual to you before, so it’s a bit of a shock to hear it now. But the worst part is that it’s true. 

“I knew it the moment I met you. It’s like you were designed to be my ideal prey,” he tells you. And suddenly you notice his warm golden eyes are glowing with a supernatural light, looking eerie even in this well lit room. He grins again, and you can see two prominent fangs, large and razor sharp, inside his mouth. 

You edge further away from him, still in disbelief. “W-what are you?” 

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart? Haven’t I been givin’ you hints this whole time? I’m a vampire.”

Your eyes sweep around the kitchen. There’s a knife block, but it’s closer to him than you. Is there anything else you could use?

You hear his laugh, still infectious even now. “Looking for a weapon? Not like you could kill me even if you had a gun. No, we’re gonna have a little chase. If you can make it back to the front door before I catch you, you can go home. Hell, I’ll even call you an Uber!”

You stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying through your shock. “What happens if you catch me?”

There’s that smoldering look again, and you reflexively squeeze your thighs together as he says, “I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out and drink your blood.” 

Your breath hitches, your chest is heaving as you breathe harder, preparing to run. He smiles and says, “I’ll give you a one minute head start. Now go!”

There’s no hesitation as you rush out of the kitchen, sprint through the dining room, and down a corridor. When you get to the end of the first corridor, however, you can’t remember which direction to go. You take a chance on running left when you hear the dining room door open. He’s already coming! 

You stop around a corner and pull off your high heeled shoes. They’re too hard to run in, and they make a lot of noise on the tile. You backtrack and leave the shoes at an intersection where two halls meet, leaving it unclear which direction you went, then take a right down a corridor that looks vaguely familiar. 

As you run toward what you hope is the exit, you can’t help asking yourself if you actually want to find it. You’ve been drawn to Keigo since you first met him, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to absolutely rail you. He even acknowledged that fact out loud. If that was all he wanted to do, you’d be running toward him. But drinking your blood? Would that kill you? Or would he just take a little? 

You hear footsteps, and panic makes you dart into a room along the hall. It looks like a bedroom, as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle but with less modern touches. In fact it could be a king’s bedroom from some medieval drama. 

On one wall is a large portrait of a man you mistake to be Keigo at first. Then you notice his clothes are from a different era and his hair is styled differently. Maybe it’s the ancestor he was telling you about. Or wait… if he really is a vampire, he could be hundreds of years old! Maybe he actually was the ancestor all along. 

You feel a warm breeze and look over to find an open doorway leading to a balcony. Red curtains are swaying in the air, and as you watch, they occasionally part to reveal a lovely view of the city at night. 

Just then, the door to the room starts to open. How does he already know which room you’re in?! Maybe it’s his enhanced senses, but you have to hide. You head out to the balcony and wait, listening as he comes into the room. You’re running out of options! 

You back up until you hit the barrier of the balcony. You look down. This side of the castle overlooks a yard that seems way too far down. Jumping would be a big risk! But you don’t have any choice!

As Keigo appears between the curtains, stepping onto the balcony, you quickly climb over and let yourself drop. You hear his voice calling for you to wait, but then you’re falling through the summer night air. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace for the impact. You hear a strange sound, like wind whooshing over fabric, and suddenly your fall stops. 

You open your eyes, wondering why nothing hurts, only to find yourself in Keigo’s arms. Behind him, you can see two enormous red bat wings that have sprouted from his back. His golden eyes now glow red, and his sharp fangs are much bigger. Is this his true form?

“Gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack!” he says as he flies back up to the balcony and lands, still holding you. 

You squirm in his arms. “Let go!”

“Hey, I already caught you! Game’s over!” 

You go still as you realize he’s touching you. Your body is curled against his surprisingly hard chest. His hands are warm on your shoulder and under your thighs, holding you up like a bride. You look up at his face, and he looks so gorgeous, all resistance melts away. 

Without a word, you lean up and kiss him. You didn’t plan it or even think about it. There’s a magnetism that draws you to him, and you can no longer fight it. 

He carries you back inside and sits you down on the bed, leaning over you and kissing your mouth as he unbuttons his shirt. He’s way more muscular than you expected, and your hands move to his chest, slipping beneath his open shirt. His own hands are working your dress up your thighs, to your waist, then up and over your head. 

His fingers deftly unhook your bra and pull it off you, and when you’re left in nothing but lace panties and thigh high stockings, he pushes you back onto the mattress. He lifts your legs and turns them until you’re lying perfectly straight in the middle of the bed. That’s when you notice the blood red silk scarves tied to each post of the headboard. 

Keigo takes each of your wrists in turn and kisses the inside, right where you feel your pulse most strongly, then ties a silk scarf around it, effectively tying your arms to the bed. You give an experimental tug, but the silk is strong. 

When finished, he looms over you, his shirt still on but open, his eyes glowing, his blonde hair being slightly tussled by the breeze, his crimson wings spread out behind him. You’ve never seen a more mesmerizing sight in your life. 

He grins. “Nothing hotter than captured prey.”

And as he begins kissing you again, first your mouth, then moving down your neck, you feel that familiar prey instinct of wanting to escape. You jerk at your bonds, even as you revel in the sensation of his lips on your skin, his tongue running over one hard nipple before taking it into his mouth. You feel a fang ghost over the tender flesh, and shiver. 

You feel instinctive fear, but you also feel an indescribable thrill ripple through your body. You’re trapped beneath a bloodthirsty vampire, but you’ve never been more aroused in your entire life. 

That’s why you don’t struggle or protest when he slides your panties down your hips and off your ankles, then spreads you open. You’ve been waiting for this, aching for this, since you first met him. You’ve been desperate for him to touch you, to feel his hands and mouth on your heated, quivering flesh. To have his cock inside you. 

“Do you know how hard it was to control myself?” he says, planting a few more quick kisses along your stomach as he moves down. “If I’d touched you on that first date, I would’ve ended up fucking you on a table at the cafe.”

You look down at him as he rubs your dripping slit with his thumb, and ask, “Why didn’t you?” 

He glances up, looking mildly surprised, then he grins as his fingers spread your folds and he gives the first lick, right up to your swollen clit. “I didn’t think that would make a good first impression,” he answers before drawing circles around your clit with his tongue, never quite touching it but teasing it mercilessly. 

You moan, arching your back, lifting your hips from the bed in an attempt to get his tongue in the right spot. “Ahh… please…!”

He pushes one finger inside you, curling it in a way that has you gasping. “Hmm? Please what? Is this little clit feeling neglected?” 

Again he licks a path around it but never on it, making you whine. Finally, he shows mercy and wraps his lips around the tiny nub, suckling it as his finger pumps in and out of you. Your hips buck at the sudden intense pleasure, feeling his tongue run over the tip of your clit, even feeling a hint of teeth grazing over it. 

You cum within seconds, moaning and shaking, your hands balled into fists. He draws back, slowly licking his lips as he unbuttons his pants. You watch with anticipation, eager to see the cock you’ve been hungry for all this time. 

It does not disappoint. 

It’s beautifully shaped, much bigger than you would have guessed considering his height, and glistening with tasty looking precum. He pushes your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and folding you in half, then looks you in the eyes as he pushes himself in. 

It feels incredible, his cock filling you up perfectly, rubbing you in exactly the right spots. When he begins thrusting, impossibly deep and hard, you can only let out little whimpers and cries, your mind going blank to everything but the pleasure of feeling him inside you. 

He leans forward, kissing you again as one of his hands slips around your throat. God, he’s beautiful. His glowing eyes stare into yours as his hand tightens, constricting your airflow, making your pussy clench around him in response. As you struggle to gasp in air, he runs his tongue along your parted lips and fucks into you even deeper. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his other hand maintaining a bruising grip on your waist for leverage. Just as you feel like you might black out, despite the hard fucking he’s giving you, his hand releases your throat. You take in gulps of air, the sudden rush of oxygen making you slightly lightheaded. 

And before you can fully catch your breath, his mouth opens wide, displaying the terrifyingly sharp fangs before biting down on your neck. 

You cry out in shock and pain, feeling his teeth tear into your skin as warm blood is sucked into his mouth. His tongue prods at the wound as his cock continues to ram into your drenched pussy. 

Well, there are certainly worse ways to go. 

As he repeatedly hits your most sensitive spots, a feeling of euphoria washes over you. The pain of his bite dulls, even as his teeth clamp down harder, and as he drinks your blood, you cum once again, trembling in his grasp. 

He pulls his face back, and his mouth is red all over, your life fluids dripping down his chin. His thrusts grow in intensity, an almost animalistic grunt escaping his bloody mouth as he fucks into you. A few seconds later, his mouth seals over the wound again, sucking out more blood as he shoves in even deeper, shooting his entire load into your womb. 

He finally pulls out of you, taking a moment to drink in the sight of your bound, bloody, fucked out form in his bed. Then he unties the silk scarves. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tone as casual and friendly as before. 

You wince as you sit up. You’re going to be sore for a few days, in a lot of places. Wait, is he not going to kill you? Drain you completely? Make sure you don’t tell his secret?

He seems to read your mind, because he laughs at your confused expression. “Don’t worry! I haven’t killed anyone since the 1500’s!”

You look at him incredulously. “Then what was the deal with that whole chase?!”

He tilts his head slightly. “It was fun, right? You really do have strong prey instincts. I don’t see that very often in the modern age. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Especially when I saw how excited you were getting.”

You blush at that remark. “So what now?” you ask, sliding out of bed and looking for your underwear. 

“Hmm? I guess we plan our next date?” he says, his eyes returning to their normal golden color while his wings seem to retract into his back. He hands you your bra with a smile. “Unless you wanna dump me after this.”

“No, I definitely don’t want that,” you say, putting the bra on. You lightly touch your neck, feeling the sticky blood and torn skin, then hiss at the throb of pain. “But could you go a little easier with the bites?”

An apologetic look flashes over his face. “Sorry, it’s hard to control myself sometimes. I hadn’t fed in a long time, and arousal makes the bloodlust stronger. It should heal up really fast though. Something in vampire saliva makes their bites heal quickly.”

“Good to know,” you say, pulling on your dress. 

He’s smiling at you in that easy going way you find so charming. “Start coming over more often. If you get used to this place, our chases might last longer.”

You stop and stare at him. “Wait, you’re gonna keep chasing me?!”

He grins. “Only if you keep running, sweetheart.”

[mrs-hwangh]

a boxers heart.

chapter three

Kim Geonwoo x Fem!Reader

Summary: one day was enough to change your lifes forever. Geonwoo is your best friend, you help his mother with her coffee shop and became part of a legendary trio with Geonwoo and Woojin. However.. nothing will ever be the same again after the Smile Company entered your lifes.

wc: 2.1 K

warnings: mentions of: violence, knifes, blood

+not proof read, I'll do that tomorrow

an: I'm so sorry that I dissappeared for this long. Some things happened that I had to take care of, but long story short, I might get my dream job if everything goes right.. sooo the long pause had some kind if good reason :'D

Now back to this series, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I actually started writing it along with the first two, I just didn't know how to write the scenes because it's my first time writing something this violent. I hope I succeeded in this part, please bare with me 🥹

Anywayyyy

Enjoy

Men styled in black stood outside the now destroyed Shop, guarding it so that nobody would interfere while they traumatized yet more persons lifes.

Geonwoo tried to run past the first guy but he stopped him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Who the hell are you? Get lost!"

The man pushed Geonwoo back, not letting him get any closer to the entrance of the building.

He was able to steal a glance from inside the shop and there they were.

"Hey! I told you to scram, asshole!"

Two men were holding you by your arms while another, seemingly richer, man sat with his mother.

He could see both of your frightened expressions.. and this alone was enough to send him on edge.

However.. the rich person suddenly grabbed his mother by her head and pushed it against the table.

These people are doomed.

It started with one punch, then another and many more. The first guard met the ground during his attempt to keep the boy back. And so did the others. Geonwoo sent all of them flying. Avoiding most of their attacks against him, punching, kicking and pushing them one by one.

You heard the noise from outside and were in shock as you witnessed Geonwoo, fighting 15 people on his own. He may be strong but where was his limit?This was a whole squad against him, experienced criminals against the guy who would never fight unfair, always respecting his boundaries.

You saw one of them landing a hit on him and you flinched, worried that they hurt him even if you knew that this guy just won a boxing tournament yesterday. Moments passed by and he marched into the shattered and unrecognizable shop.

The two guys that held you let you go, running against him just to be defeated seconds after.

"..Geonwoo..!"

You said relieved, looking at his mother and side eyeing the hell out of the asshole who caused all of this.

The once so proud man stood up, left Geonwoos mother on her own and backed off towards the back door.

Geonwoo ran to you two.

"Mom, y/n! You allright?"

You two nodded, still in the schock of the moment.

"We're okay.. we're okay"

He hugged us tightly, his gaze analyzing us to ensure himself that they didn't do worse to his closest persons.

The poor woman was sobbing, seeing her like this was the last straw he had to make that bastard regret that he ever showed up to this place.

Their gazes met and Geunwoo wasted no time into lunging onto him, pushing him harshly against the wall.

Did he want to punch him? Yes.

Did he want to send him straight to the hospital? Oh he will.

But he firstly had know why everything of this happened in the first place.

"Who are you?"

He asked.

"Who are you to do this to our store?"

The stranger wanted to flee but there was no use in trying so, Geonwoo had him perfectly locked. No answer was offered by him, only a shocked look on his face.

"I asked you 'who are you?'"

Geonwoo's a patient person, but whoever this was was walking on very thin ice right now.

Instead of answering him, the man looked towards the door where his thugs were readjusting their positions and another men was entering the shop.

The bastard chuckled and this was the moment when Geonwoo decided to look at the person the guy was looking at.

He had a scar running across the top to the bottom part of his face. A proud look and the company of an muscular giant.

You quickly shielded his mother from the new guys. She was a trembling mess and that psycho look on their supposed leaders face didn't help.

Geonwoo let go of the idiot who dared to lay his hand on you two, looking at the new individuals now.

He was quick to walk towards your forms, taking both of you into his arms as he positioned himself in a protective manner. One hand clung onto his mother's form to reassure her, his other held yours tightly, squeezing it lightly to let you know that everything would be fine.

Geonwoo looked a them, unsure if he could keep you safe, thousands possible outcomes created the worst scenarios in his head. He didn't want to see you two suffer.. he wouldn't let that happen.

But that big guy over there looked anything but friendly, he never fought against someone like him and his position in this only worsened the situation.

The person who seemed to be their boss then speaked up.

"Calm down, kid"

How could he?

How could he calm down knowing that whoever he is tried to harm his mother and you?

Did he seriously think that Geonwoo would trust anything he'd say after this?

The man held an amused expression, his hands behind his back.

"Your mother has borrowed some money from our company"

Geonwoo looked at her and she shook her head no.

"Mh-hm"

The boy mustered his courage, the only thing racing in his mind being to get that man and his followers our of here.

"So what do you want?"

The adults gaze darkened, that playful manner now unrecognizable.

"Pay us back."

You noticed the slight shaking of his hand, of course he was nervous, everyone would be in such a situation.

The little option you had to comfort him was to turn the tables and to squeeze his hand in return, holding tightly onto it and hope for the best.

"Pay us for the damages first"

He spat, it took alot of courage in such a situation and you admired him for that ..however.. you also mentally facepalmed yourself because this was certainly not the answer this criminal was hoping for. The said man stepped closer, not breaking the eye contact he had with Geonwoo until he stopped. His gaze switched between his, his mothers and yours.

The look of this psychopath would hunt you in your dreams, these eyes spilled all of his darkest secrets, leaving no room for hopes of a happy ending.

"G-Geonwoo.."

"Don't worry, I've got this"

He lied or he tried to reassure himself. Whatever it was, you could feel the slight tremble of his hands while he held you and his mother. The stranger stood there for a while until he smirked and stepped back. When he passed the buffed guy, he whispered something.

"Beom"

His name? Whatever it was, it wasn't a good sign. The stranger walked out of the line and took one of the chairs, putting it on a corner to sit on it.

The Gorilla of a man then took his hat of and threw the closest chair to him violently to the ground. Geonwoos grip on us tightened but all it took was one look to understand what'd happen.

"Mom, y/n, it's okay, just go over there.. okay?"

"Geonwoo.."

His mother started but he didn't leave us any room for resistance.

"Please.. please don't get hurt"

You knew how bad it looked... these guys are dangerous and for whatever reason they chose to torment his family tonight.

He pushed you towards the back, his mother didn't want to leave him but you held her, trying to comfort the poor woman.

Geonwoo took a protective stance, watching the grown man as he analyzed the best way to end this. The said man just stood there, waiting for Geonwoo to land the first blow. Which he did.One on his southern part and another one straight to his face. Much to his frustration, the giant didn't move.

A dangerous and angered gaze flickered across his facial features. A second, a third and a further blow followed, with no effects.

All of this just for a tiny bit of blood coming from the guys mouth. You knew your friend good enough to understand his body language by now. He stiffened, his gaze was unsure and you knew that this Gorilla of a human would cause a big damage.

His patience wore then and the said Guy lunged at Geonwoo. His mother flinched in your arms and all you could do was trying to comfort her and pray that they wouldn't hurt your friend.

Geonwoo managed to defend the first attack, using the time the other guy needed to readjust himself to fight back.

He hit every blow and you couldn't be prouder of him right now... however,his oponement wasn't just someone.A sickening blow was thrown at Geonwoos head, sending him to the other side of the destroyed coffee shop.

"Oh my God.. "

I whisper yelled as he hit the display which shattered at the sudden impact.

The attacks were restless, one blow followed after the other. Geonwoo managed to take a position just like he would during a fight. But this one was anything but fair.

His oponement wanted him dead. Two strong arms getting a grip of his hands, pulling them away from his head.The next stage followed.. the guy hit his head against Geonwoos until he lost his strength. His eyes rolled back and his knees gave up.

A loud thud echoed through the room as his body hit the floor.

His mother cried in your arms while you fought against your tears.

"Geonwoo! Geonwoo please! Wake up!!"

He was trying to stay concious, blood dripped from his nose and there were some nasty wounds shattered across his face.

The stranger gave the Giant an approving nod and everything that followed was like a blur in your memories. Geonwoo had managed to lunge an attack on his oponement but the following actions were just cruel.

He got pinned against the wall, his head hitting the mirror.An attempt of choking him followed with mercilessly placed punches and that was the moment you lost your shit.

"You fucking bastards!"

You tried to attack the Giant form behind, offering Geonwoo every help you could offer facing the sad truth that you had no idea of martial arts.

Seconds before you could reach him, someone pulled you from behind and threw you to the floor.

"You little bitch"

Was all the said man said before kicking you at your stomach. Geonwoos mother was being held back by the guy with the glasses.

"You'll regrett this"

You managed to say between gritted teeth, kicking his leg before he could land another kick on your form. The guy fell to the ground and you punched him as many times as you could before his mates pulled you away from him, restraining you from further actions.

"Let me go!"

One of them kneeled down to match your height, holding your chin to move it towards a terrifying scene.

There he laid, motionless and at the mercy of the cruel man.

"W-What.."

"Cat got your tongue?"

"This is where the fun part begins"

Their sickening comments added on the helplessness of the whole situation. Footsteps echoed through the room as their leader kicked Geonwoos body to make him face him.

He was coughing, struggling to even stay awake.

The sight broke your heart and the screams of his mother would always hunt you. Their leader kneeled down, holding eye contact with the person who never failed to light up your day.

"Hey, I appreciate people with grit"

He moved closer.

"Because guys with grit can get anything done"

A long silence followed after that.

"Do you want to work for me? I will make sure that-"

The psychos offer got shut off with Geonwoo spitting on him.

A proud smile made it's way to your face but your gut feeling said that something terrible would follow.

Their leader looked outside of the shop where his minions were waiting, they saw that action.. and he stood up again, stepping over him to sit down on him.

He pressed his weigh on Geonwoos lungs which made him struggle even more. Soon enough, a sharp sound traveled across the room and your eyes widened.

He held a knife.

He held a fucking knife.

His free hand held Geonwoos Chin, positioning him so that he'd face him.

The cruelsome act that followed after wasn't something that one could even try to describe. The knife was used to slice a clean cut across his face.

The sickening sound of the skins layer getting sliced through made his mother cry even more.

It hit you aswell, tears were falling freely now as you witnessed the torture they made your friend go through, praying that for whatever reason it'd end soon.

-

Taglist @dripoftheseus @asterizee @njajd8kss @urlocalbeaner5 @croissant-san @darklove2020 @nadlx33333 @domfikeluva

Thank you for reading!!