#they’re really funny guys. trust
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lemonlimestar · 9 months ago
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wake me up, before you go-go
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itspileofgoodthings · 9 months ago
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Learning how to love my teenage boy students and they’re learning how to love me within the proper teacher-student dynamic.
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iwaasfairy · 8 months ago
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I need to start posting the deranged things I think about on a daily basis instead of pretending like I’m well adjusted bc I ! Feel like im losing out on so much good shit to share w you guys because I don’t wanna be too manic but I’m going back to my roots no beta readers no full fics just absolute channeled horny
tw incest, coercion, grooming ish
Satoru nii who calls you into his room to help out while he’s already snuggled under his blankets, flush working up his neck. asks you to go here and there and please just hand him that water bottle and his phone he’s just so comfy rn and you’re so sweet you will, right? you’re a good little sister right? thank you for helping him!! but wait don’t run out yet
yea he’s holding onto your wrist and his palm is all sweaty and he looks too hot under the duvet but just slow down, he’s been thinking. you bend weird at the waist when you’re picking things up you know? can you show him how you do it? doesn’t matter that you’re just wearing an oversized shirt to bed, he’s not looking at you like a guy looks at a girl silly. just do it again for him. and while you’re at it, show him your tummy and the inside of your thighs
he’s not being weird, just making an observation. you look so womanly now, don’t you? you’re no longer the little tike storming into his room at the most inopportune times. yea, he’s flushed, he’s a little sweaty- don’t worry about it. you can sit on his bed, sit right here next to him. why don’t you lean in to let him see something. oh, yeah, your lips have become fuller too, they’re soft and plush and if he squeezes between his long fingers, doesn’t that feel sort of nice. weird, but nice right?
he’s got all kind of things he can show you. you’ve really been pretty sheltered sure, but he might be able to teach you a few things. it’s just satoru nii, you trust your big brother don’t you? you two love each other and you’re close. how about you stay right there as he sits up and let him hook his chin over your shoulder, like that— and now let him check something. it’ll feel a little strange but he’s just checking. because his hands just seem to fit soooo much better on your chest, look at that. you’re sooo cute arent you, so cute with your tits in his hands as he squeezes them. you ever notice how soft your body has become? yea, you’re way softer than big brother is, look. wanna feel? feel his strong shoulders and his arms and thighs. you’re so sooo much softer than him, he doesn’t wanna stop touching you.
he just wants to see without the shirt real quick, just for a second. it’s only weird if you make it weird you know, he’s your brother. let him see real quick, please? just a second. just slip - your shirt over your head and let him look at you just like that. you’re so cute and pretty. yea you are pretty, you really are. maybe he just loves you more now you’re not such a brat, but doesn’t it feel good like this? hm? doesn’t that feel good?
and do you wanna see something funny too? yea, come here, give him your hand. it’s really funny look, you made your big brother hard as a rock. don’t be so shy, it’s just because of all the touching! you’re siblings, don’t have such a spaced look on your face — you can touch him. doesn’t it feel nice to be so close like this?
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marblehazel · 10 days ago
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Teething
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dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader
Joel was crowned as The Trusted Adult to accompany you to your wisdom teeth extraction appointment. Chaos ensued.
Tags: no outbreak, age gap, most likely exaggerated effects of sedation, sexual themes
Word count: 3.1k
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The skies were painted with shades of copper and lilac when you arrived home. A familiar pickup truck was parked in the driveway next to your dad’s own F-150, and you slipped your way through the narrow passage between the two to get to the backyard through the narrow side alley of your house, sticking twigs of overgrown shrub brushing against your arm.
Laughter bounced against the pillars supporting rusting canopy adorned with vines and wildflowers, echoing around the tiny dining area. Around the table were three men you could discern blindfolded: your dad and his friends, Joel and Tommy Miller. The three looked pretty scruffy, which made sense since they most likely just got out of work before they decided to have some beer and smoked ham time at your house. As usual.
Tommy made a comment about a boat and your dad and Joel burst out laughing again, almost shaking the earth with the lethal combination of old men’s simplistic jokes and immense vocal cords abilities.
They hardly noticed your presence until you put both hands on your dad’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head. He smelled like barbecue smoke.
“What’s so funny?” you grin. Joel greeted you with a polite nod, while Tommy put down his beer can to wave at you. “Hi Joel, hi Tommy.”
“Sweetheart!” your dad slightly twisted his torso to meet your gaze. “Tommy was telling us about his recent fishing trip. How was today?”
“Okay-ish,” you patted his shoulders once more before letting go and starting to make your way towards the backdoor, leaving the men to their fishing jokes again. “Have fun, guys.”
“Oh, before I forget!” your dad clapped. “I am so sorry, but I won’t be able to take you to the dentist this Thursday. They want me in San Antonio to overlook—”
“Daaad,” you groaned, although your face showed nothing akin to annoyance, just sorry. “I’ll see if my friend can take me.” you tried to comfort him, even though knowing your friends, you’d have a bigger chance of losing your teeth in a car crash than in the operating room.
“What’s happenin’?” Tommy furrowed his brows. “You okay?”
“I’m having my wisdom teeth removed,” you pointed at your cheek, the approximate area where the third molar of your upper right side of jaw was growing sideways. “One popped out and it’s growing weirdly, so I got an x-ray and it turned out all four of them are developing in such shitty positions, so, they’re taking them all out.”
“All at once?!” Tommy gasped, to which you nodded as you purse your lips.
“More cost-effective, or whatever.”
“Ouch.”
“I’ll take her,” all eyes went to the source of the voice: Joel. He was staring directly at your dad. “I’m free Thursday.”
“‘Ppreciate that, man, but—”
“Really?” you beamed, prancing your way towards his seat and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Joel!”
The man raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat while Tommy laughed. Your dad shook his head slowly at your endearing antics, his eyes meeting Joel���s as they silently said ‘Thank you, and sorry’.
The next time Joel’s gray Ranger pulled up in front of your house, you had been waiting on the porch with a smile worthy enough to be on a billboard advertising toothpaste.
.
The fog in your head started to clear just enough to let you notice the figure sitting by your side. Joel’s broad shoulders took up half the room—or at least it felt that way in your dazed state. His arms were crossed, and his brows furrowed as he watched you with what looked like mild concern. You blinked a few times, your vision wobbling like you were looking through a fishbowl. You couldn’t really register where you were or how you ended up here yet.
“Hey,” he straightened his posture up the second he realized you were awake.
“Whoa,” you slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “You look good.”
Because he did. That was the first thing you noticed about him. You couldn’t remember if it was exactly true, but a voice in your head told you that Joel always looked good. You believed it. And he did right now, with clothes all ironed, beard trimmed, hair combed. Joel wouldn’t admit it, but he’d even put some styling powder on his hair today.
His lips twitched, and he scratched at his beard, unsure of the appropriate response to give. “Uh, thanks. How are you feeling?”  
You ignored the question. “Does my dad know you’re here?”  
“Yeah,” he said slowly, leaning closer. “He was there when I said I’d take you here, remember?”  
“No.” You deadpanned, voice thick and blunt. Your tongue scraped against your gum, and it touched some soft, fibery, wet cotton balls. You almost gagged.
Joel sighed. “Alright. Uh, pain anywhere? Are you comfortable?”  
You tilted your head, as if trying to access some hidden inner truth. Then, with startling conviction, you announced, “Sweaty.”
He quickly raised from his seat, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket to wipe your forehead with when you suddenly choked into tears. You could barely get the words out through the swollen jaw, numb tongue, and spiky throat. “I miss my daddy…”
You felt like the saddest child in the world. You didn’t know where your dad was, but most importantly, your brain wasn’t able to assess where he might be. But he wasn’t here. And that alone was enough to send you spiraling into agony.
Joel looked around awkwardly, clearly out of his depth. “Sweetie,” he said, reaching out to pat your cheek gently. “I’m here.”
You blinked up at him with wide, glassy eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “Where is he? Did he sell me to you?”  
“What?” if only you were sober enough to see the expression on his face. 
Tears continued to pool in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. “What am I supposed to do, being sold to a person like you?”  
“Person like me—What’s that supposed to mean,” Joel withdrew, seemingly offended momentarily before he realized he was talking to a group of at most six brain cells, half of them blackout drunk.
“Hot,” you sniffled. “Hot like you.”
Joel freezed. His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he muttered, “O…kay. Uh, let’s call for a nurse, okay?” He stood up and looked toward the hallway.
“I don’t even know how to be a housewife!” you lamented, gesturing wildly toward a painting of sand dunes on the wall. “You’re going to dump me in the middle of a desert!”  
“Honey,” Joel said, his voice strained but calm. “Nobody is dumping or selling anybody, okay? Just—wait here. I’m gonna go get a nurse. I’ll only be gone for, like, five seconds.”  
You watched him disappear behind the wall, your lips quivering as you began counting on your fingers. “One… two… three… four… five…” You looked up at the hallway, waiting for Joel to come back as you realized how alone you were in the room. You didn’t want to be alone. The fluorescent light was hurting your eyes and the air smelled like a dentist’s office. You were in one, but you didn’t really register that. Panic set in like a tidal wave. “Joel?” 
“Joel! JOEL!” You thrashed in the chair, trying to swing your legs over to touch the ground, ready to bolt after him like some kind of lovesick lunatic. It was hard, like you were learning controls for a video game for the first time, and your limbs didn’t move the way you wanted them to. Joel returned with a nurse moments after. She was holding a clipboard and if not for the mask hiding her expression, Joel would have seen that she was wearing a smile that looked dangerously close to a laugh.
“You’re back! I thought you were leaving me…” your voice cracked as you reached out toward Joel with snot running freely down your upper lip. “I’ll be a good wife from now on, Joel, I promise.”  
“Oh,” the nurse said sweetly. “Sounds like someone’s still a little loopy.”  
Joel ran a hand over his face, mortified. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s alright,” she smiled at him before checking on you. “Definitely not the worst I’ve witnessed. You’ll be okay, won’t you, sweetheart?”
You nodded.
She asked you to open your mouth, and you attempted to talk to Joel the entirety of it, moving your heavy tongue around, making barely coherent noises. At one point you reached for his hand and he took it.
“Hoew, wa ho hayhee hee hahee?” which would translate to ‘Joel, was our wedding in Bali?’, like Joel would’ve been able to decipher it. He just played along in hopes to shut you up.
“Yes, yes, of course.” he cupped your hand in his.
“Okay, now bite down with pressure, okay?” the nurse said softly after pulling the blood-soaked cotton balls out and replacing them with new ones. You did as she said. “That’s good. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” you smiled at her. “You’re so nice.”
“And you’re so nice, too.” she said as she gathered her clipboard and metal tray. “We’re all clear here, you are free to go home. If you prefer to wait out until she’s not so disoriented anymore, please use our waiting room since we have to clean this one before the next patient.”
“Thank you.” Joel nodded politely at her.
“Any more questions you’d like to ask the doctor?”
“I think we’re all covered. Thank you for everything. Let’s go, sweetie.” he helped you stand up, and the second he let go your body leaned, craving to touch the floor. Both him and the nurse reached out to you, crashing their heads in the process.
“Ow!” she yelped.
“Sorry, sorry. I got her. I’m really sorry.” he slightly bowed down as he held you steady, one palm planted on your ribs just below your breasts.
“Sorry,” you parroted, utterly oblivious to what just happened.
“It’s alright,” she laughed lightheartedly as she reached down to fix your shoelaces. “There you go.”
“Thank you again. We’ll stay out of your hair now.”
.
After what felt like eighty years, Joel finally got you on the passenger seat. He could feel his lifespan shortened significantly, and his back hurt so much trying to crouch to your level as he guided you across the parking lot. He should’ve just carried you—would’ve been much quicker and better for everyone involved.
You touched the dashboard, feeling the texture underneath your fingers like it was the first time you got in a car. Joel closed the door next to you and scurried his way around the car hood to the driver’s side, sighing when he got in.
“Joel, what’s your favorite pie?” you asked as he leaned over to put your seatbelt on, hand fiddling with the belt when it got stuck and you instinctively ran your fingers through his hair. 
“Pecan,” he muttered, body getting tense under your casual yet intimate touch.
“Oh, I had pecan pie at my house recently.” you withdrew your fingers as Joel straightened up and put his own seatbelt on. “We’re like, soulmates, or something.”
Joel started the car. “Yes, that was me. I brought the pie to your house.”
“Wow, you’re so kind.” you smiled, eyes tearing up, as if bringing you pie was the equivalent of saving all kittens in the world. Joel rolled his eyes and shifted the gear from neutral, and the two of you slowly moved out of the office parking lot to the road.
You cupped your own swelled cheeks, feeling the spherical cotton balls nested between your jaws. “I don’t like these, Joel.”
“Yeah? Wanna take them out? Do you think the bleeding has stopped?” his eyes ran between you and the road in front of him back and forth, getting ready to merge onto the highway.
“My mouth is so full,” you whined, and you fished one cotton ball out, all wet and slightly red, before rolling the window down and throwing it out. It bounced on the dry concrete behind you briefly before it got run over by another car.
“Hey, no littering! And keep your arm inside, my fucking god, d’ya wanna lose it?” Joel yelled, one arm leaving the steering wheel to pull your hand into the car and close the window back up, almost taking up the lane next to you. A semi-truck passed through and the driver honked their horn, deafening. You snarled at it while Joel mouthed a quiet ‘fuck’.
“I still got more inside,” you pointed at your open mouth, like Joel couldn’t tell from your slightly muffled voice still.
“I know, but either keep it in your mouth until we get home, or find some—I don’t know, plastic bag to keep it in, alright? Try the glove box.” he points at the compartment in front of you. You fiddled with the handle, and when it opened it revealed a little toolbox, a pocket knife, a folded map, and two dusty condoms from God knows when.
“Joel, what is this?” you pinched one out for Joel to see, voice thick with betrayal. “You’re cheating on me.”
Good fucking god. Joel snatched the thing out of your hand, shoving it back into the glove box before slamming it closed. He shouldn’t have been panicking like you were actually his bride and he’d been two-timing you after work, because you weren’t, and the only thing that had been in touch with his dick in the past six months was his fist. “I don’t know how it got there. It’s from a while ago.”
But the damage had been done. You covered your face with your hands, eventually took the remaining cotton balls out and let them go onto the floor mats. Joel winced.
“What should I do? Is my blowjob not good enough?”
Joel was the most uncomfortable he had ever been his whole life right now, and he once witnessed his friends’ parents hitting it crazy style with the same banana pudding that was served at dinner smeared everywhere when he was there for a sleepover, so that was saying a lot.
“You have never—what are you fuckin’ doing?!”
You had leaned over as much as your seatbelt allowed you to, fingers reaching to unbuckle his belt. “I’m gonna show you how good I c—”
Joel lost control of the steering wheel as he tried to shoo you away, but you latched your palm around his bulge like leech. He accidentally turned the truck too much to the left, switching lanes without warning, and abruptly hit the brakes for a split second when he thought he was going to crash into a Camaro, almost slamming you forward if not for the seatbelt. Three cars honked at the two of you as they passed, one was generous enough to give you the finger.
He pushed you back to your seat, both of you huffing and puffing. There was silence for about thirty seconds until Joel composed himself.
“What the fuck did they put you under, because I need some,” he muttered under his breath before speaking clearer. “Put your hands on the dashboard. Now,” he commanded, eyes flicking between you and the road.
“Why?” you mumbled, your fingers twitching like they might reach for Joel’s belt again.
“Because I said so,” Joel grunted, shifting in his seat to try to hide his hardening length, jaw tense as he kept one hand firmly on the wheel. “You wanna be a good wife, don’t you?”
You blinked slowly. Joel was right, you wanted to be a good wife.
“Yeah,” Joel continued, eyes narrowing slightly, still focused on the road. “Only good wives put their hands on the dashboard.”
“Really?” you laughed, the sound drifting lazily out of you. But you planted both palms on the dashboard anyway, sunlight pouring on the back of your hands, warming them up. 
“Yeah—yeah,” he muttered. “Look it up.”
“I can’t, my hands are on the dashboard,” you frowned, chin pointing towards your splayed fingers.
Joel rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You just have to believe me, then.”
You thought of it for a second before nodding. “Okay. I believe you.” 
He glanced at you, eyebrows lifting. “You should. You’re my wife.”
Your head tilted, a lazy grin spreading across your face as you processed the words. You’re my wife. Somehow that was the most beautiful string of words you had ever heard. “Am I a good wife?”
“Sure. You got your hands on the dashboard. Guess that makes you a good wife,” Joel said. Your loopy grin was infectious despite his best efforts to stay stoic.
“I’m a good wife,” you repeated to yourself, beaming.
There was a beat of silence before you leaned slightly toward him, eyes bright, head swaying with the motion of the truck. “Are you a good husband?”
Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened for a split second, his gaze flicking to the side, then back to the road. “...I don’t know. Do you think I’m a good husband?”
“Yeah,” you said immediately, so sure of yourself as you gathered the evidence in your hazy brain. “You took me to the dentist. You got me pecan pie.”
Joel scoffed, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Driving and pies, guess that’s the key to a successful marriage.”
.
By dinner time you were already out of your groggy state, although the pain started to creep back in despite the painkillers that you just sat in the living room with a frozen pouch of CapriSun pressed against your cheek. Joel hadn’t said much but he did stay until your dad got home.
He had hoped you blacked out and didn’t remember anything from earlier. He wasn’t sure if he could live knowing you were able to remember that you were so eager to put your mouth on him, on top of you calling yourself his wife, on top of you casually admitting you found him hot.
And because he got hard in the car. He didn’t know if you saw it but for his own peace he would like to believe that you didn’t.
Joel was a little bit grateful that Tommy wasn’t there because he would never let this die.
He would never let this die himself.
When your dad set some burritos for Joel and applesauce for you on the counter, Joel was ready to go home and get drunk while pondering in the shower.
“You’re leaving already?” you licked the applesauce, tasting it innocently, and Joel had to remind himself that licking applesauce was not a sexually enticing act.
“Yeah, working early tomorrow. Get well soon.” he stood awkwardly as he pocketed his keys.
“Thanks a lot, man,” your dad got up to give Joel a hug with his back facing away from you, and you stared Joel dead in the eyes as you mouthed playfully: ‘Husband.’
His lips twitched. Seemed like he would never know peace ever again.
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selfshippinglover2222 · 2 months ago
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Hazbin Boys When They’re Jealous
Alastor does not get jealous often. It’s a rare occasion, even when guys are flirting with you. He’s more protective than jealous. But maybe when you’re spending a little to much time around Husk, laughing with him, a casual touch on his shoulder, it’s then when that feeling shows up. He immediately walks over and wraps his arm around your waist, staring eerily at Husk. There’s a threatening air around him as he does, almost like he’d hurt the cat demon if he didn’t back off. When he does he gives a pleased grin, kissing your cheek before going on his way.
Lucifer gets really nervous and talkative when he’s jealous. Laughing loudly at the person who’s currently stealing your attention away. ‘Oh wow!! That’s really, heh, funny!’ He states and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He’s smiling nervously, and his heart is pounding. He doesn’t want you to leave him, or be swept off your feet by someone who he perceives as cooler. He calms when the perceived threat is away, holding you close and putting his face in your neck. ‘You’d never leave me, right?’
Husk rarely gets jealous, this man just trusts you to an extreme extent. But maybe if someone else is rubbing up on you, touching you on intimate ways, that’s when he’d snap. He gets grumbly when he’s jealous, rolling his eyes and snipping back at the person while putting himself between the two of you. He makes sure you’re not without him for the rest of the night, keeping an eye out for that person making moves on you. ‘Taken, got it? You can fuck off now.’
Angeldust gets really petty and passive aggressive when he’s jealous. Standing in the corner with his arms crossed while you stand talking with the person. Eventually he’ll come over behind you, wrapping his arms around your neck and stomach while he rests his chin on your head. He laughs obnoxiously loud at the jokes they make, nodding exaggeratingly quick with a to wide smile on his face at their stories. Eventually he makes them so uncomfortable they leave, and he’s left grinning smugly with his arms around you, holding you tighter to him. He doesn’t let go of you for the rest of the night.
Vox gets jealous extrodanarily easy. Someone looks at you? He’s pissy. Someone makes you laugh? Oh, he’s livid. Someone touches you? He’s fuming. And he’s very apparent about it too, glitching and static appearing everytime he’s feeling threatened. One time a guy cat calls you and he blew out the lights on the street with his anger. He had pulled you in for a long and deep kiss then, his tongue snaking into your mouth as he holds you tight by the hips. Paparazzi takes pictures, and people around gasp, but that was his plan. Now all of hell knows who you belong to.
Valentino is also extremely easy to make jealous. If your talking to someone for to long he usually ends up hijacking the conversation, casually sizing up the person taking your attention away. He gets can range from passive aggressive comments to straight up murdering the person. He had done the latter to this one guy at the studio after he got handsy with you, and now the place and his clothes are covered in blood as he walks straight up to you and lifted you up and pinned you against the wall, starting to bite and suck at your neck hungrily, in front of everybody. Safe to say you can’t walk the next day.
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robinsgrl · 2 months ago
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FEARLESS
chapter two. begging and begging
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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader
word count ⇢ 2.5k
warnings ⇢ curse words, yn overthinking and panicking like usual, second hand embarrassment (i had to stop and pace for a second but that’s me idk), a glimpse of daddy issues y’all its ingrained in me
authors note ⇢ hey……….. i personally am loving this story and hope you are too! i’ve compiled a bit of a taglist but i am very bad at keeping track or forgetting to add to my list so if you aren’t being tagged despite asking that of me, please remind me, preferably through private messaging since the comments can get kinda muddled to me ����
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Logically, you know you’re not into JJ. He’s cute and funny, sure. But he’s no Jonah. Yet, his message made you nervous. Beyond nervous. You’ve never had any guy speak to you in such a flirty way. Or, send a text like that. You were used to pity compliments from other girls who felt it was their duty as girls who support other girls. So when you sneak out through your window frame and meet his eyes as he stands down on the grass with Kie and Sarah, you play it off as just being nervous. Which you are.
You’ve been at this for five minutes. The girls and JJ are trying to coax you into just coming down. But the distance looks insane from where you sit.
“I’m gonna die!” You whisper-yell down to them. They’re looking up at you with expectant looks, urging you to hop down.
“You’re not gonna die.” Kiara rolls her eyes but you can’t care for any of that as you take another peek down and scare yourself some more.
“My bones are going to shatter.”
“That sounds pretty cool, actually.” Sarah sends a smack to JJ’s chest, wanting him to shut up.
She looks up at you sweetly. “It’s really not a big drop, just put your hands out and jump. Trust, it’s easy.”
You slip down the steep roof part near your window and you let out a little yelp. Immediately, JJ gets to his feet and rushes to where you could possibly land and holds his arms out. This makes a bigger wave of embarrassment flush through you. He’s not the buffest and you’re sure you’re twice his size. To have him stumble and unable to catch you would ruin you. You’d beg your mother to let you go and live with your aunts back in California and never show your face in any Carolina. It’d be too risky to go to either.
The girls are yelling out to you. Something about being careful. That not being prepared for the jump will hurt. You’re panicking. Yelling out to them that you get it. JJ’s promising that he’ll catch you. Too much is going on at once.
“Your mother isn’t home.” The new voice breaks your chatter. The girls and JJ look up at you with wide eyes. You glance over from your window to another to see your step-father peeking his head out at the group and you. “You can just go out the front door.”
Kiara and JJ share a look as Sarah laughs. Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “You’re… you’re okay with this?”
He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “No. But you’re going to do it either way. I did a lot worse at your age than you’re doing now. Just… if your mom finds out, I didn’t know about any of this. Seriously, kid, I’ll throw you under the bus without a care.”
“Yo, your dads cool.”
“Step-dad.” You correct JJ. Usually, your mother would scold you for such a thing. There’s no step in a family, she would tell you. But it felt like a betrayal to your real father. You glance over at Anthony just in time to see a flicker of something pass through him.
He shrugs it off though, tapping the windowsill. “Just go through the front door before you break something.”
“Will—“ but you yell as you start slipping off the roof. The girls yell. JJ yells. You land in a thud, JJ’s arms wrapped around you as two tumble to the ground.
“Fuck, are you okay?” Anthony calls from the windowsill. When he gets no response, he waves his arm. “You’re fine. Don’t do drugs.” And he shuts the window.
You’re on your back now, looking up at the night sky. “Is she dead?” You hear Sarah ask.
“I wish I was.” You answer with a huff, your knees aching.
“Told you I’d catch you.” JJ hums with a smirk as he gets up off the floor, dusting off his cargo shorts and holding a hand out to you. “Come on. Pope’s drunk and you’re missing it.”
You’d never been to the boneyard before. Not to party, at least. Whenever there was a get together, a bonfire or a party, Scarlett would ask you to come with but you’d always say no. At some point, she stopped asking and you’d find out through Instagram that she was out with her cooler friends.
The bonfire is lit. There are people all over. People you’ve passed by all your years in Kildare but have never spoken to you. You felt the same towards the group you’re with but now… now they’re talking to you and laughing with you like they’ve all known each other for years.
You also never knew that Kook’s and Pogue’s could ever get along. But apparently they can when you’ve had a few cold ones. You’re sitting on a log with JJ on one side and John B on the other. Sarah’s sitting on John B’s lap, and you side eye it for a second, realizing that she and Topper really are done. You pay no mind to it afterwards and keep leaning up against JJ as he dramatically tells a story about his last time surfing, which was this morning, the kid living and breathing the sport.
Your eyes skim the grounds and your eyes immediately fall onto Rafe who’s standing around with his friends, beer at hand. Whatever his friends are saying is amusing him because he’s letting out a laugh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes like he can’t believe it.
“She’s a pogue now.” JJ pulls you back into the group as he boasts about you. “Beat that Harlet girl.”
“Scarlett.” Sarah corrects the drunken guy.
“Whatever her name is. Can I say the b word?” He asks Kiara who shrugs lamely, taking a sip of her beer. “to beating bitches up!”
“JJ, why would you say that?”
“You just gave me permission!” He scoffs and turns back to you, hands squishing your cheeks and making you pucker up. “Look at that sexy shiner.”
You try to pull away from him with a laugh. If it were anyone else, the constant need to be touching you and being flirty would overwhelm you. But you’ve come to realize that he’s just an affectionate and flirtatious person. Plus, it’s very clear that he has his sights set on Kiara, with the longing looks he constantly sends her way.
“To my girlfriend!” JJ hollers far too loudly for your liking, eyes wide as you look at him, as he’s now dramatically standing on the log you were sitting on.
“N-not! Not his girlfriend!” You grab his hand and try to drag him to take a seat but he’s apparently a goddamn bulldozer when drunk.
Cleo and Pope are tending to the drunken guy when you find the chance to slip away. Luckily, you had brought yourself a sweater so walking down the shoreline at one in the morning isn’t the worst part of your night. It’s calm and cool now, the sound of chattering and music now becoming a distant noise, giving you the solace and warmth you need.
The path you’re on now is one you walked down with Scarlett by your side many times. It was never this late of course, always at a decent time with her dog on a leash before letting him run wild. You’d talk for hours. Despite the tension often felt from her remarks, you had a pleasant time. More than pleasant. Fun even. She’s a bad person. A mean person. A bully. But when it was just the two of you, she was just a girl. A girl with you. And you hate how easily she could have betrayed you.
A motion in the corner of your eye startles you out of your reminiscing thoughts. You see a figure rush between the trees and take notice of who it is. Rafe. If you were in a cartoon, you’d imagine a lightbulb drawn at the top of your head lit brightly. This was your shot. Your time to beg and beg until he agreed to take you under his wing.
With a small skip to your step, you follow after Rafe in between the few trees on the beach. You lose sight of him for a second before you spot him again. His back is facing you but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling to the ground. Carefully, you start approaching him.
“Hey,” you gently reach out and tap his shoulder. This startles him. And before you know it, you feel a thousand grains of sand in your eyes. You yell, hands immediately covering your eyes. “Oh my god! What the fuck?! What the fuck?!”
“Holy shit!” You hear him yell. The two of you are yelling now. You don't think you’ve ever heard such a big and tough man like him yell in the way he does. So high pitched. Or maybe that’s just you. But you’re in too much pain to pay any attention. “Why would you fucking creep up on me?!”
“I thought you weren’t okay!”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?!”
“Cause you were kneeling on the floor like a freak!”
“How does that make me a—“
“I think I'm going blind! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” You can’t help but cry out, unable to open your eyes fully because of the sand in them. “Why the fuck would you throw sand in my eyes?!”
“I thought I was being attacked!”
“I only touched your shoulder! Do you think an attacker would lightly tap your shoulder to attack you?! Take me to the hospital!” You’re screeching. You know this. But you can’t open your eyes and this means to panic. Or at least, it is to you.
He sighs, calming down. Or not. You can’t see anything, eyes shut tight. The way the sand grains feel in your eyes only drives you even deeper into a panic. “You don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Then the eye doctor!”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“Oh my god, I’m never gonna see anything ever again! Do you know how much I like to see things?!”
“I’m assuming a lot?”
“A lot! Oh my—“
“Stop saying ‘oh my god’. Fuck, do you have any other phrase?”
You scoff, eyes still covering your eyes which wouldn’t be able to open either way. “Just help me!”
“Fuck, fine! I’ll help you!” You jump when his hand grabs your wrist, tugging one of your hands off of your face. You figured he would tug and drag you behind him but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s carefully guiding you through the thick trees and what seems to be back to the boneyard. When your feet hit asphalt, you’re sure you’re in the parking lot, taking you to his truck.
“Just… stay here.” He advises you as your back presses up against the cold touch of a vehicle. You heard a car door click open, some scrounging, the door shuts and he’s back in front of you. You’re not sure what he’s doing as he stands across from you, eyes still shut tight. It’s quiet for a moment except for the sound of distant waves crashing.
“Hello?” You reach out shakily, unsure of where exactly he is. Your hand meets his face in a light smack and he pushes your hand off.
“Get off of me.”
“What the fuck are you doing just standing there? Help me!”
You hear him sigh heavily, the sound of his shoes on asphalt. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but his hand taking a hold of your face, big hand sprawled over your chin and onto your cheeks, puckering your lips out softly isn’t it. It’s oddly tender for a man who’s supposed to be abrasive. “I’m gonna need you to open your eyes for a second. Gonna flush ‘em out with water, alright?”
You have no words, you simply nod gently, opening your slightly burning eyes for him to flush them out. It takes a few gushes of water for your eyes to no longer feel grainy. The sleeve of your sweater is rubbing at your eyes tirelessly, the stinging unbearable. His hand grabs your wrist, pulling you away from your eyes again. “Stop doing that. It’s going to worsen it.”
You glare at him. The blurry version of him from how teary and red your eyes are. “It wouldn’t be bad in the first place if—“
“If you didn’t sneak up on me like a stalker.” His harsh words don’t deter you. His tone would have last week but not anymore. Normally, you'd feel a flutter of embarrassment or shame but after all that's happened in the past 48 hours, you can't find it in you to care.
“A stalker?! God, I just wanted to talk to you. You were kneeling over on the ground like you found a dead fucking puppy. Forgive me for wanting to check up on you.”
“This is a good lesson for you, kid—“
“Kid? Seriously?”
“A lesson to mind your own every now and then.”
You scoff but have no retort to throw back, tired and stinging eyes taking him in. His face is strong as usual, little to no emotion shown in them, even with the ridiculous sight of your extremely reddened eyes and roughed up face, he shows nothing. You wonder why he is the way he is for a second before snapping back into reality. “You owe me for this.”
“Is this that “make you hot“ bullshit?” He snorts out what you think is a laugh. But he would never so you can’t find it in you to stew over it.
“Yeah and wh—“
“I’m not making you hot.”
“Ugh, please! Look, I really need this! And you almost blinded me so you have to.”
“I don’t have to do shit. You put your nose in someone else’s business, that’s what leads to sand in your eyes.”
“Yeah, but—“ you try again but he easily shuts you up by putting a single hand up, palm to your face. A look of amusement flashes through his eyes when he realizes it actually worked and you’re too worked up to fight back. You’re about to speak and he’s about to decline and fight you again when another voice speaks up.
“Yo, fight club!” John B calls out to you, a sleeping Sarah on his back. Beside him, Pope and Cleo are placating a tearful JJ as he hangs off their shoulders between the two of them. Kiara is wearing a random hat that reads ‘Fish Fear Me’, probably stolen by JJ and now a trophy for her. “We’re leaving.”
You turn to speak to Rafe but he’s already gotten into his truck and with a loud sigh of defeat, you walk over to your new group of friends. Kiara brings her arm over your shoulder easily, putting the hat she had on top of your head with a bright smile. They’re talking about god knows what as your eyes turn back to Rafe’s truck one last time. And you’re not sure if you’re making it up but you swear your eyes meet through the slide glass before he drives off.
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taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 (if your name is red, im not able to tag you and im not sure why, sorry!!)
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cazshmere · 4 months ago
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Astrology Observations Pt. 8 🦂
materialist🔖
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DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🦂
🦂 I think people who have their chiron in the 3rd/7th or 11th house may experience significant insecurity about posting on social media and being in front of a camera, or even commenting under various posts online. They often overthink the things they put out online/the things they were going to post online 😭 and also if they post pictures/videos they might rewatch the picture/video 984726261 times and often find a SOME tiny fault and convince themselves to delete whatever it is that they have posted. This placement can create a deep-seated fear of judgment and a tendency to second-guess every public interaction
🦂I have noticed that scorpio moons and capricorn moons have very involved and critical mothers/parents, exhibiting behaviors typical of helicopter parenting. For instance they could micromanage every single thing you do or have some sort of comment to make about every little thing you do (also applicable to aries and virgo moons). I also feel that cappy and scorpio moons may find it the hardest to detach from their generational trauma because their parents may have instilled strict principles/beliefs into them and they end up carrying forward all these beliefs which in return makes them more susceptible to repeating toxic patterns which then ends up causing A LOT of trauma to these individuals ❤️‍🩹
🦂 honestly taurus placements aren’t always mindful and demure, despite being ruled by venus. Most taurus placements (esp sun,moon and mars) are NOT afraid to call people out on their bs and are extremely straightforward and direct. The type to insult you straight to your face if you annoy them or smtg 😭 and you’d be like ouch, what was the reason for that??💀. They can come across as arrogant and rude sometimes BUT this all makes a lot of sense as a lot of them tend to be sidereal aries placements after all🙏😂
🦂 speaking of sidereal placements I wanna talk about how virgos can be super playful and child-like (esp with the people they are comfortable with) because they’re leo placements in sidereal + virgo placements also really crave attention, sometimes way more than Leo’s tbh✨
🦂 aries and scorp moon/venus women often attract guys who initially start off as wanting to be/being their “friends” BUT the only reason they wanted to be their friend in the first place is because they see potential for a romantic/sexual relationship with them. It’s sad because literally every guy friend you have/had TOTALLY had other intentions that weren’t platonic 🥲
🦂 having placements in the 2nd house (esp if there are no harsh aspects) just mellows down the intensity of the placement. For instance moon in the 2nd house people can regulate their emotions much more stable and easy manner. Having placements in the 2nd house is such a BLESSING.
🦂 if you think you know someone with a scorpio moon, moon in the 8th house or moon-pluto native, trust me you DON’T😭. no one will ever KNOW every single part of them. They remind me of onions yk? SO MANY LAYERS to them and no one will ever truly know everything about them
🦂 also idk if I’ve mentioned this before but CAN WE JUST TAKE A MINUTE TO APPRECIATE HOW FUCKING FUNNY/HUMOROUS CANCER PLACEMENTS ARE???? literally SO SO witty and make you laugh till your stomach hurts😭🫶🏻
🦂 with age, saturn in cancer natives can look a lot like their mothers 💗
🦂 shadow traits are often expressed through the moon and mars, as these planets govern our raw emotions and drives. For example, an aries moon’s may react with impulsive outbursts and frustration, while a scorpio mars might exhibit controlling, obsessive, or manipulative behaviors to maintain power. These primal reactions tend to surface under stress or vulnerability. To work on your shadow self, it's helpful to focus on your Moon and Mars placements, as these often reveal where you're repeating or expressing toxic behaviors. By understanding how these signs influence your emotional reactions and drive, you can better recognize and address patterns that need healing.
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banner/pic credits to the rightful owners
© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]
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lightseoul · 2 months ago
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CHAPTER 3 | ALL OUT OF LUCK
w.c. 4.0k (i know)
tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), much cussing, some adult themes (again, no smut y'all), bkg and reader go through one stage of grief: bargaining, the plot thickens!
a/n. wrote all this in one day—i couldn't put the doc down until i finished it. this chapter is jam-packed and has lots going on, but we're only at the beginning. i hope you have as much fun reading it as i did writing it!
links. masterlist, ao3
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“…Though I trust you’ll understand if we set some—” he pauses, and you’re 99% sure it’s for dramatic effect, “—precautionary measures in place?”
“Waddya have in mind?” asks Bakugou, his rough tone laced with unmistakable skepticism.
“Well, for starters…”
Their leader glances back at the bionic woman. “Sayaka, are they ready?”
Sayaka nods. “Ready for installation, Masaki-san.”
You scramble to take a mental note of their names—as well as try to ignore the fact that the robotic girl sounds like a robot, too—as you watch Masaki gesture to the escort from earlier who’s standing at the sides and in the shadows.
He emerges into the dim lights with a wide stride, but to your surprise, another leg steps forward right beside him. Your eyes trail up until they land on the other person, widening in confusion because they look just like a carbon copy of the intimidating escort—tall, ginger head, pale skin—only it’s a girl.
There’s no mistaking it.
They’re twins.
Twin bodyguards. In a quirk supremacist group.
You fight the urge to let out a dry laugh.
But apparently, neither of the two finds the situation funny, because they’re nothing but serious as they approach Masaki and bow politely, before heading to Sayaka and taking what looks like tiny…metal pieces?
You don’t get the opportunity to wonder about what those were, though, because, in the blink of an eye, the twins are already stalking straight toward you and Bakugou, glaring daggers.
“Those are bugs,” Masaki explains just as the twins arrive right in front of you, with the guy from earlier towering over Bakugou and the female staring you down a few inches away from your face, decidedly a little too close for comfort. You barely manage to stop yourself from gulping and looking away.
“They’ll be tracking your speech and movements 24/7. And don’t worry, they’re waterproof.”
You sense Bakugou’s about to spit some smart-ass comment, judging by the way he puffs up like he tends to do when he’s about to drop a curse-riddled quip, but he doesn’t get the chance to deliver the blow because the twins are on you in an instant.
You accidentally let out a yelp as the woman grabs the hem of your tank top so roughly you think it’s gonna tear, before she stuffs her right hand up. Mortified, you struggle against her hold, but her left has a death grip on you.
“Relax,” she seethes, obviously very much already done with you. “I’m just installing it.”
At her words, you manually will yourself to calm down, and it quickly dawns on you that she’s not touching you violently or inappropriately. You tamp down a shiver as her cold fingers come into contact with the center of your chest, right at the dip of your bra and between your breasts, feeling the surface before sticking something that you promptly identify as the tracker.
And as she retracts her hand and steps away from you, right at the same time as her twin like they’re wired for synchrony, you reflect on how it’s so light that you barely feel an added weight to your body. It’s circular, too, and you debate for a second whether or not to peer down at your chest to see what it really looks like, before ultimately deciding against it.
You can do that later, in the privacy of the (hopefully not downstairs) bathroom.
If such a concept even exists.
“Thanks, you two,” comes Masaki’s gentle voice, before shifting to regard you and Bakugou. “You can get to know your designated guards later on, but for now, let’s continue.”
As if on cue, the twins take a further step back before eventually returning to their dark corner.
“What we just affixed on your chests are special devices, again, designed to monitor any sound you make as well as your specific locations. They’re not your ordinarily engineered trackers—they’re Sayaka’s thanks to her quirk—which also allows her to directly receive the feedback and project it for others to see and hear.”
Ah.
You don’t know how that works exactly, but you bet the expensive ass perfume that you got for your birthday last year—the very one you wear for special occasions like now—that it’s got something to do with her robotic parts.
“Does everyone in your group get one, too?” questions Bakugou, who’s now looking a bit miffed. You’re sure he didn’t enjoy getting felt up by a stranger who he just called someone’s little lackey.
“Only the new members,” Sayaka answers succinctly, her voice sounding like it’s filtered with autotune.
But especially you two, you finish for her in your head. And really, you can’t blame them. Taking in a pro-hero, let alone Japan’s #2, is a huge gamble, and Bakugou quite literally can make or break their whole plan to attack. This level of precaution is not at all uncalled for. You’d even go so far as to say it’s not enough.
Bakugou must be thinking the same thing, too, because he doesn’t offer a follow-up question.
Masaki takes your silence as a sign for him to go on.
“Of course, that’s only the first layer of protection.”
Shit.
You hope you didn’t just think that into existence.
The plain-looking leader puts on that prudent smile of his, before turning to look at the old man. “Kouki-san here has a very handy quirk. Teleportation,” he glances at Bakugou, “A sought-after power in the hero world, isn’t it?”
Bakugou shrugs, although you’re guessing the answer is yes and that he’s just too stubborn to admit it.
Figures.
“Well, he’s gone and mastered his quirk, and has since been indispensable to our organization. Essentially—” Masaki huffs, like he’s preparing for the bomb he’s about to drop, “—the very moment you even hint at betraying us, we’re gone,” he snaps his fingers, “Just like that. And you won’t be able to trace us.”
“Really?” drawls Bakugou. “You’ll abandon this cushy, not at all seedy ass headquarters of yours?”
“This is only one of many, Dynamight,” Masaki responds, seemingly unbothered by Bakugou’s taunt. “And this is actually not our headquarters.”
He picks up his glass of alcohol and lightly twirls it around in his hand. “I also trust that you’re aware of what a distinguished group such as ours entails? Naturally, we need to have somewhere safe where we can conduct all our activities under the radar.”
“As you can imagine, it’s not just us five. We have many, many members who share the same principles, and this club can’t possibly be large enough to host all of us.”
“Where are you going with this?” Bakugou demands.
“What I’m saying is that we have a separate place as our headquarters, a place much bigger than this. And—” he cocks his head toward Kouki, “—we get there via teleportation.”
“Obviously,” sneers Bakugou, “Otherwise that’d be a huge waste of the old man’s quirk, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but that’s only one of the reasons. You see, it’s also so that you won’t know where it is located,” Masaki pauses once again, which you decide in a split second is warranted because of what he’s going to say next.
“And for that to work, we’re also going to have to lock you inside.”
Your breath hitches. Bakugou bristles.
“The fu—”
“We’re going to have to make you stay with us—” the plain-looking man interjects with a slightly louder voice, “—at least until the day of the attack, as we cannot risk you two being seen constantly going in and out of this club every night.”
You’re about to contribute to the conversation for the very first time but Bakugou beats you to it. “Fucking stay in? Isn’t that gonna cause even more suspicion?”
“It wouldn’t if you both come up with a good excuse to disappear,” Kouki retorts with a smidge of attitude. He eyes Bakugou with a raised brow, “Wouldn’t now be a great time to have a top-secret ‘mission’ overseas? And I’m sure your friend here can whip something up.”
You brush off the annoyance that shoots through you at the dismissive mention. Instead, you finally bring yourself to speak up. “I thought you just said we’ll be stuffed in a secret hideout?”
“Ah,” Masaki sounds out, “You are, but this is our gateway, so to speak. You go here to get teleported to the headquarters, and from there, get teleported back here to return to the outside world. We won’t hesitate to teleport away from both places the second we have to, but that doesn’t mean our HQ is easily disposable to us, hence all these measures.”
“All this to say,” he furthers, his timid tone juxtaposing the threatening words you’re sure he’s about to utter, “You two better think twice about betraying us.”
There it is.
He smiles again. “Do either of you have any questions?”
Beside you, Bakugou mutters to himself for a second, before clearing his throat. “You’re yapping on and on about what you’ll do if we betray you and shit. Ain’t that such a warm welcome for your new members?”
—A rhetorical question, because he doesn’t let anyone get a word in. Instead, he presses on.
“But what if we don’t? What’s in it for us?”
“You get to live out your ideals, boy,” comes the old geezer’s snappy reply.
Bakugou snorts, and you’re sure it’s not because he found the guy hilarious.
“That’s a shitty deal on our end, don’t ya think so?” the pro-hero shifts his weight on his other foot. “How ‘bout this, you guarantee protection for my…friend here, and we’re even.”
You hold your breath.
Looking past the way he just so awkwardly referred to you as his friend, that segue just now wasn’t exactly the smoothest.
Still, you have no choice but to roll with it. So, with much conviction, you morph your face into that of shyness—one that you hope is charming enough to win their graces.
“Just her?” asks Masaki, placid as ever.
“I can get by,” comes Bakugou’s confident response.
Once again ignoring the mildly degrading remark, you ready yourself to use your quirk. You closely examine the leader’s features as they transform into an expression of contemplation, even as he turns to the other two and engages them in quiet conversation.
You and Bakugou stand there for a few moments, waiting, before Masaki finally turns again.
And all that preparing to utilize your quirk goes out of the dilapidated windows once you catch a glimpse of his face.
“I guess that’s settled, then.”
Called it.
Masaki then raises an eyebrow at the two of you. “Any more concerns?” he smiles to himself, “Heartwarming requests?”
Neither of you says anything.
“None?” he asks again, before patting his thighs in a gesture of finality. “Well, then, I believe it’s time for you to see your new home! Kouki-san?”
At the mention, the old man slowly gets up from where he made himself very comfortable on the couch, and walks leisurely towards you, planting himself in front of and between you and Bakugou.
“Hang tight,” Kouki smirks, reaching out for both of your hands, and you’re just about registering how eerily cool his are when the ground that was perfectly carpeted and steady just a second ago suddenly collapses from beneath you.
A violent wave of nausea instantly hits you as the room completely vanishes before you, replaced by pitch-black darkness in a second. You scramble for purchase—tightening your grip on the person responsible for whatever the fuck this is—as the noise instantaneously gets sucked in a vacuum, leaving you in full silence. Your legs are jelly as you stumble on your feet, and you’re convinced you’re going to fall to your death down to the abyss below you when—just as fast as the lounge disappeared—a warmly lit hallway materializes in front of you.
But it’s too late, you’re already out of balance and lurching forward—inch by excruciating inch—right until you feel a hand grab your forearm and you’re unceremoniously yanked back into an upright position.
You whip to look at Bakugou as you wobble on your feet, and he’s staring at you with such alarm that makes you feel so…vulnerable. He retracts his left hand a beat later when you eventually steady yourself, his serious and unrelenting gaze fixated on you before shifting to study the place you just got teleported to.
You follow suit, eyeing the hallway as you place the hand Kouki was holding into your pocket to warm it up.
Similar to the club and the room you were just in, the area is barely illuminated, but it’s bright enough for you to make out the dark wooden doors that line both sides. You’re right in the middle of the hallway, and at one of the ends you think are staircases leading both to a lower and an upper level, while at the other end is another door.
If these lead to what you think they lead…
Then, damn.
They weren’t kidding about lodging.
From the corner of your eye, you see the old man look at you and follow your line of vision, shifting to study the aforementioned door at the end of this hallway.
“That’s your room,” he offers curtly, like this job of chaperoning you to your place of residence for who knows how many days is beneath him.
Room, you parrot in your head.
Room singular.
“Well?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his impatience when neither you nor Bakugou makes a move. “Aren’t you going to check it out?”
You hesitate, glancing at Bakugou to find him frowning at Kouki, before turning to look at you.
“We don’t have all day, you two,” Kouki adds on with a sigh at the same time you raise your eyebrows ever so minutely at the pro-hero, as if asking for confirmation. “Go on, I’ll wait here.”
It only takes a small nod from Bakugou to pull you out of the paralysis, and the minute that he does, you’re already moving to the spot beside him, matching his pace as you trudge towards the door.
As inconspicuously as you can, you check the corners of the room along the wall facing you for cameras, only to find none.
And so you do it.
With your backs turned against the Teleportation master, you finally let your emotions show on your face.
You also chance a peek at Bakugou, only to find him already eyeing you with the very same expression you’re sure is written all over your features.
The one that says you’re fucked.
You don’t get to dwell or comment on the shared sentiment, though, mainly because they’ll hear every word you say, but also because you arrive in front of the door. Bakugou looks at the knob and then at you warily, and you can only nod in encouragement.
That seems to be enough of a push for him, because he reaches for and turns the handle, pushing past the entryway so you can walk in from behind him.
Now, the first thing that registers after you startle at the door closing is the fact that the room is small. Tiny, even. There’s another door at the back, which you think leads to the comfort room.
But that’s pretty much it.
That, and there’s only one bed.
To your credit, though, you’re able to refrain from gasping in horror at the sight of it, which you can chalk up to the next thing that you see—a couch.
It doesn’t seem like it’s foldable or can be converted into a larger bunk, but it’ll have to do. It’s brown and hopefully real leather this time, and is crammed right next to the bed. You remind yourself that they were only expecting Bakugou, and so you can’t really complain and that you’ll have to make do with sleeping on the couch for the next n days.
Aside from all those, though, the room is relatively bare.
Well, apart from the cameras with the blinking red light at the upper, four corners of it.
But you don’t get to wordlessly warn him about it, let alone come to terms with the fact that they’re deadass going to be watching your every single move, because something seizes your wrist, spinning you around, leaving you face to face with Bakugou.
You’re too preoccupied with the sudden motion and the fact that you’re just a breadth’s width away from each other to notice the darkened look in his eyes.
Which, in hindsight, you should’ve noticed.
If you wanted any chance at bracing yourself for what he’s going to do next.
“Wha—”
You yelp—cutting yourself off—when Bakugou, the Bakugou Katsuki—Japan’s #2 Pro-hero, Vogue Japan’s Hottest Bachelor of the Year, and the dickhead who used to be your biggest, fattest crush—grabs at your neck and smashes his lips against yours.
You involuntarily jerk away from him, but his free hand shoots up to roughly clutch your hip just as his grip on your neck tightens, pinning you in place and right against him.
And you don’t know how the fuck it happens, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t know at this point, and frankly, you don’t want to know, because coupled with his scalding hold on your body, it causes you to do the unthinkable.
You moan.
And again, you don’t even get the opportunity to feel the utter humiliation, because just as quickly as he pounced on you, Bakugou pulls away, but not before scowling at the cameras as if he just noticed them—which you doubt—then taking your hand, dragging you out of the door and into the hallway.
The old man glances at you. “Are you don—”
“Take us the fuck back now,” Bakugou spits as he pulls you right beside him.
At that, Kouki’s eyebrows furrow. “You ought to know better than to speak to an elderly like that.”
But the man who just fucking kissed you apparently can’t give a single flying fuck, because he retorts without missing a beat. “Take us back now.”
That must’ve been the final straw, because Kouki’s face finally morphs into the scowl that you think he’s been trying to suppress this entire time, but to your surprise, he moves closer to the two of you and once again, reaches for your hands.
You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but what you do know is that Bakugou’s onto something here, because he wouldn’t have pulled that stunt just now without any reason, which means the last thing you should do is resist.
And so you take Kouki’s hand, just as Bakugou snags the other, and when you do, the floor gives out from underneath you.
You’re still overcome with a sense of dizziness as your surroundings shift and the noise dissipates around you, but as you find the lounge slowly appearing before your eyes, you find that it’s not as bad the second time.
Bakugou’s still holding your hand when you arrive at the second floor of the club, right back where you stood from a while ago.
Sayaka is the first one to notice you, most likely thanks to her quirk and the goddamn device stuck to your chest, but it’s Masaki who speaks up when he catches wind of your arrival.
He puts down the deck of cards you think he’s just been shuffling before shifting to look at you. “Back so soon?”
Kouki turns around to face him, “Bakugou demanded to—”
“Why the fuck are there cameras in our room?”
Offended, the old man whips around again to glower at Bakugou, seemingly ready to unleash the sermon of the century. “Young man—”
“Turn them the fuck off,” the pro-hero interjects, “And the mics, too.”
Bakugou hesitates, as if unsure of how to properly say the next few words. He glances at you, expression inexplicable, before turning back to face them. “…At least at night.”
Silence.
“Oooh, I see where this is going,” comes Masaki’s reaction a moment later, a knowing smile creeping on his face. You feel yourself flame. “You weren’t being clear with us earlier, Bakugou. You didn’t say you brought your girlfriend.”
“Didn’t think it was necessary to point out,” comes Bakugou’s terse reply.
“Yeah, well, I’m afraid it doesn’t matter either way. The surveillance is for our safety, which comes above everything else, even the privacy of our esteemed members.”
“You promised you’d protect her at all costs,” Bakugou counters. “Protecting her modesty from the perverts you call your surveillance people is part of that.”
Now, you’re not a hundred percent certain, but you’re pretty sure he just shot the cyborg a look at the latter half of the sentence, which you think would’ve been a noble gesture—if it weren’t for the fact that it’s not just her, judging by the sheer number of cameras in this room alone.
Your attention drifts back to Masaki, however, when he heaves a sigh, leaning against the couch with a tired expression on his face. “Tell me, then, Dynamight. How do you propose we make sure you don’t brew something behind our backs off surveillance?”
“I can turn off the bugs,” Sayaka pipes up before Bakugou can answer, her mechanical voice drifting across the room. “They emit a blue light at their circumference that shuts down when I turn the device off.”
“As for the cameras…” she drones on, “The blinking red light should be gone when they’re offline.”
“That shit won’t do,” Bakugou declares decisively, not even letting the suggestion simmer. “There’s no knowing for sure that they’re actually off and aren’t just hacked to seem like they are.”
“The cameras should also face down. And—” he huffs, “—We get to remove the tracker.”
A chorus of protests erupts from the group—particularly from Sayaka and Kouki—but even the twins who are still stationed at the sides. Masaki, in contrast, only sits in silence as he studies the pro-hero, but there’s no missing the uneasiness decorating his features.
“It’s only at night,” Bakugou reasons, voice now a bit louder to be heard amidst the sea of complaints. “You can set up guards around the perimeters of our room. We’ll surrender them at the door before entering, and we can’t go out beyond the doorway until they’re attached again.”
And when no one says anything, Bakugou pushes. “How does that sound?”
You chance a glance at Masaki, who does not seem to be getting anywhere near convinced.
Bakugou must be noticing it, too, because he squeezes your hand so imperceptibly that you almost miss it.
But you don’t, and quite honestly, you could have and be okay with having done so, because you were on it, anyway.
You quickly scan the room.
One, two, three, four, five.
Five.
You can do five.
And so with the most innocent tone you can muster, you speak up.
“That sounds reasonable to me.”
All five whip to look at you, and the second that they do, you pull—swiftly and in succession—eyes jumping from Sayaka to Kouki to Masaki to the male twin and then to the girl.
Your gaze darts back to the leader right after to make sure you got him, but his remarkably serene countenance is enough to tell you that you’ve successfully done it.
You did it.
You just won Bakugou and you the window of time to discuss the mission in the privacy of your own room.
And Bakugou must be seeing the palpable shift in their demeanors because he squeezes your hand once more, only this time you think it’s in gratitude.
You feel a surge of pride swell in your chest.
Let the games begin.
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˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!
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459 notes · View notes
nightsteps · 3 months ago
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JJ MAYBANK NSFW ALPHABET
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
jj is the absolute sweetest!!! he can be laughing and telling you jokes, but if you need him to be he can be sweet and caring. if it was a particularly intimate session he’s sweet and gentle, normally tho he’s getting snacks to watch tv and laugh.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
jj really likes his arms cause they’re just insanely toned and nice. he’s always flexing in the mirror and other guy shit. on you it’s def ur ass. i mean he’s a guy cmon… he’s constantly slapping it, grabbing it, ect ect.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he cums a lot and it shoots out in spurts. he also likes when you swallow it and will make out with you after you just gave him head and spit his nut back in your mouth. it tastes like shit tho so i wouldn’t recommend swallowing it.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he stole a bunch of his dads old playboys and still looks at them. like he has a stash under his bed and jacks off to them to this day. not that bad but he’s so embarrassed about it and once cherry finds out she never lets him live it down.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
as shown in the first episode, jjs pretty experienced. safe to say he knows what he’s doing.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
definitely doggy he’s an ass man at heart no matter how much people try to say otherwise. then he can be all rough and shove your face down. but if he’s feeling nice he’ll pull you up by the throat and spit in your mouth <3
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he normally likes to joke around and be funny during the moment. it’s just his personality atp and he doesn’t tone it down in the bedroom most of the time. his favorite type of sex is the giggly hands high sex you guys have.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
ngl he’s not doing much down there himself, your gonna have to tell him if you have a problem with it cause he doesn’t really care.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
he’s really good at making you feel special. constantly complimenting you, even when he’s being mean. definitely more funny and giggly in the moment but can be serious and super intimate if one of you needs it.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
i mean he’s definitely rubbing one out atleast once every other day. his sex drive is extremely high, so if your not there he’ll just yknow… do it himself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
what isn’t his kink? his biggest kink is just feeling in charge it really gets him going. he’s super into sex while on substances. like high sex and drunk sex because everything is so much more sensitive and he loves that you trust him enough to fuck you while your not even in the right head. he also likes overstimulation and edging but yeah basically everything is his kink tbh.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
his favorite place is the bed but he honestly does not care. he’ll do it on the boat, in the car, on the couch, in public, on the ground it really doesn’t matter. he likes the bed the most though because it’s guaranteed privacy and the bed is soft so you guys can cuddle up right after.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
breathing tbh. seriously though anything makes him horny. he really likes feeling in charge since his life is already so out of control, so he likes when girls act submissive and bat their eyelashes and shit. (cherry also gives him lowkey foot jobs in public under tables and he loves it he’s bricked immediately)
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
it’s hard to get a no out of him, but honestly anything that’s gonna hurt you he’s not into extreme pain. don’t get me wrong he’ll slap you a little but nothing beyond that really.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
oh boy. he loves giving head. he could genuinely do it all day. he loves being able to take his time with it and make his girl feel as good as possible without his own needs getting in the way. so when he gets to taste you just know it’s not stopping anytime soon. he’s 10/10 too.
as far as him, he likes it and all but if he’s gonna have you suck his dick he might as well just fuck you in his mind. go big or go home i suppose.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
most of the time it’s fast and rough because that poor boy has no self control, but if it’s a special day like an anniversary, or one of you has had a particularly rough day he can make it slow and meaningful :))))
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
10/10. he’s down to get you off or get off himself anytime, anywhere.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
one hundred percent. he’s down for basically anything and he’s a total adrenaline junkie so anything you want to do to spice up your sex life, he’s down.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can go a solid 3 rounds before he’s tired out and needs a minute to get it back. but trust me it’ll only be a minute and then he’s back up and ready.
he can last a fairly long time if he wants to make you feel extra good, but normally it’s about average time, maybe a little less since hes just always so horny.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he’s the most likely to own toys out of all of the guys in my opinion. he doesn’t have any for himself but you guys have a pink vibrator he uses on you sometimes and he definitely has a pair of handcuffs.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
worlds biggest tease 1000%. sometimes he honestly likes the tease more than actually fucking. he will do anything in the world to rile you up before actually giving in to you.
“cmon mama, just some kissing and touching. can’t even handle that can you baby? it’s alright papa j’s gonna fix that for ya”
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
very very loud and whipery tbh. second behind pope. it’s not even just grunts sometimes he’s full on whimpering and moaning and begging if your on top or it’s just that good.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
john bs first girlfriend he ever had, like freshmen year, jj would jerk off to pictures of her. honestly sometimes it was more about knowing she had john b than it was about her being hot. something about knowing she had him in all the ways jj couldn’t made him so insanely hard. and her tits were huge. yeah…
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
maybe slightly above average size. not too thick but enough to make you feel it. uncut with a pretty pink tip that is basically always glistening with a bead of precum. very pretty but very manly at the same time.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
sky high. 24/7. all night. till the bed breaks. till the sun rises. till his dick falls off.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
honestly it takes him kinda a long time. he’ll normally lay there for a little bit after before getting up to clean you guys up. then he likes to chill for a little and talk or watch some tv together afterwards.
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cranked this out so fast and i’m so tired but yeah here’s this!!!
408 notes · View notes
jo-speaks · 5 months ago
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please please please ft. jack hughes
in which...
you're aware of Jack's reputation with girls, but you know he'll be different with you.
track two in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!
I know I have good judgment
I know I have good taste
It's funny and it's ironic
That only I feel that way
I promise 'em that you're different
Your sister stared at your phone, a picture of the one and only Jack Hughes on it. The look on her face was one of confusion and slight disgust. “That’s… your boyfriend?”
“Well don’t get too happy about it.” You answered, pursing your lips together as you turned off your phone. 
She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, he looks like a frat boy who drinks every other hour and fucks a different girl every night.” 
Before you could respond, her phone rang. She excused herself into the living room, leaving you pondering on your queen-sized bed. Your sister was partially right, he did have a reputation for being, for lack of better words, a fuck boy. 
Ever since he got drafted when he was 18, the number of girls that entered his dm’s was despicable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t respond to them, getting a few relatively censored pictures in return.
But with age comes maturity. Once he met you, he knew he found his person. 
No more DM’s. No more hookups. No more girls. Just you, and only you.
Your sister reentered the room, “Sorry. Mom just wanted to know if I was showing up to meet your boy toy this weekend.”
“I promise you. He’s different.”
And everyone makes mistakes
But just don't
“Do you not trust me? We’ve been over this, babe.” Jack stated, wrapping his arm around your waist as you got into bed with him. 
You looked up at him as you rested your head on his bare chest. “I do trust you. But you have to understand why they’re worried about me dating you, Jack.”
His body tensed up, and his hold on your body loosened. You could feel the gentle rise and fall into his chest speeding into a rapid pace. Family meant everything to Jack and you knew that, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt at the idea of your family not liking him just because of stupid decisions he made in the past. 
“Sorry. Maybe when we all have dinner tomorrow I can clear that up. I want them to like me, Y/N.” He whispered. 
I heard that you're an actor
So act like a stand-up guy
“So. You’re Jack.” Your father said, eyes trailing up and down his figure.
Your boyfriend gulped slightly, trying to keep his composure. “Yes sir. A pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t reply, choosing to stare the boy down instead. 
“Dad.” You warned.
Wanting to break up all the awkwardness, your mother introduced herself, giving Jack a warmer welcome than your father. She took his hand and dragged him into the house, leaving you and your dad standing tensely in the doorway.
“I don’t like him. Who the hell does he think he’s impressing with that ‘yes sir’ crap?” 
You groaned softly, “Dad, I really like him. Can you please just give him a chance? I promise you he’s a really great guy once you get to know him.”
Your dad stared at you blankly, “How many girls do you think he’s gotten to believe that? Your sister came over yesterday to talk to us. Told us all about him.”
“Yeah, well he’s changed. And whether you choose to believe that or not, all I ask is for you to treat him with a little bit of respect. Please.”
He didn’t respond verbally, opting for a simple sigh and nod as he led the two of you into the house.
Whatever devils inside you
Don't let him out tonight
I tell them it's just your culture
And everyone rolls their eyes
Yeah I know
Maybe it was a mistake bringing your parents to the Devils vs. Kings game. You had never seen Jack as rilled up as he was tonight, but you were sitting close enough to the glass to hear his opponent chirping him about his size. Jack had enough of the cheap shots, choosing to slash and rough around a little bit with the bigger man. 
Your mom laughed softly as he got dragged to the penalty box. You looked up, pointing out the camera focused on Jack displayed on the jumbotron. 
“People pay to watch me play!” Jack yelled, his voice slightly audible from the other side of the rink at which you were sitting.
While you and your mom giggled about the comment made by your boyfriend, your dad shook his head. “Real classy.” 
You sighed, “Dad, please. It’s just hockey culture. He didn’t mean it. 
He simply rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you, sweetie. A temper like that doesn’t only exist while he’s playing.” He said, crossing his arms before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly on it.
All I'm asking baby
Please please please don't prove em’ right
Jack threw his equipment bag into the trunk of your car, shaking the vehicle slightly as you got into the passenger seat. However, he stopped you before you could buckle in. 
“Can you drive?” He mumbled, “If I get behind the wheel right now, I swear to God, I might crash it.”
You simply nodded, stepping out so he could step in. You walked around the car, seeing Jack inside the car, looking out the window into the dark, night sky. Since you didn’t lack common sense, you decided to stay quiet and let his mind run wild. Handling three straight losses isn’t easy on an athlete, especially if that athlete is Jack Hughes. 
The half-hour drive back to his Hoboken apartment was mostly silent, other than the occasional sniffle from Jack, his body getting used to being warm after almost six hours at the rink. 
After a few more minutes, it grew old. “You okay?”
He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m totally fine after losing, that makes total sense, Y/N.”
“Okay, no. I didn’t do anything to you, so lose the damn attitude because the only thing I’m trying to do is make you feel better.”
“Well maybe use your brain and don’t ask me stupid questions like that when you can clearly see that I’m not.” He retorted, turning his head to look at you.
You furrowed your eyebrows, severely disliking his tone but ultimately too tired to snap back, resorting to a deep sigh and a quiet, “Okay, Jack.” 
Pulling the car into the driveway of his apartment, you waited for him to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. He didn’t, rather letting out a breath and reaching over to grab your hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you didn’t do anything to me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“It’s fine, Jack.” You mumbled, not meeting his gaze. 
He gently cupped your face with his right hand, softly forcing you to look at him, which you reluctantly did. “It’s not fine. You’re my girlfriend and I promise you that will never happen again.”
You nodded, silently thanking him before leaning in to kiss his chapped lips.
Please please please
Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice
Heartbreak is one thing
My egos another
I beg you don't embarrass me
Mother fucker ohhh
Please please please
‘Jack Hughes seen with beautiful lady at local Jersey bar. New girlfriend in the NHL superstars’ life?’ 
You read the headline, immediately throwing your phone from your vanity seat onto your bed. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you blinked. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hold back the river that began spilling from your eyes. The mascara entering your eyes was a pleasurable burn due to it distracting you from what had caused the situation to unfold in the first place. 
Was he cheating on you? Is this just another gossip site desperate for attention? 
“Woah! Hey, what happened?” Jack called out, snapping you out of your spiral. 
Unable to form words, you just handed him your phone, looking up at him with an expression of hurt and worry.
You watched as his eyes shifted from left to right, reading the article with furrowed eyebrows. When he was done, he let out a sigh and wiped his face then ran the same hand through his hair. 
He set the phone down, squatting down to be on eye level with you. “Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like.”
“Then what? Because to me, what it looks like is that you were getting nice and cozy with that girl.” You scoffed, trying to turn your chair away from him.
His reflexes were quick enough to stop that, not wanting the conversation to end before he had the chance to explain himself. “Listen to me. Lukey was eyeing her all night. I wanted to be a good big brother and try to set that up. That picture was just taken at a bad time, but I swear to you that’s all it was.” 
“Then why the hell was her hand on your shoulder like that?” You cried out, your sobs breaking your voice. 
“She did that! I took it right off immediately after, I swear. You have to believe me, Y/N. I would never even think about doing that to you.” He pleaded, not wanting everything the two of you had just because of some touchy girl at the bar. 
You tried to calm yourself, wanting to stop the tears but you couldn’t. You believed him, you truly did, but just the idea of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach.
“Okay.” You eventually managed to croak out. “I believe you.”
He pulled you into a tight hug, the mascara running down your cheeks staining his white dress shirt. “I promise I will never, ever, do that to you.”
Well I have a fun idea babe
Maybe just stay inside
I know you're craving some fresh air
But the ceiling fan is so nice
“Do you have to go?” You asked, intertwining your legs with his as you lay on the couch.
He chuckled, “Yes, I do. It’s an event for kids, Y/N. I can’t miss it.” 
“But it’s so nice in here! We’ve got Netflix and A/C. What more could you want?” 
“Fresh air, maybe?” He said with a teasing tone, “I haven’t been out in so long, I need vitamin D.”
You wiggled your eyebrows, “Or vitamin me.” Jack gagged at your joke, pressing himself away from you as you laughed maniacally from your spot on the couch. “I’m definitely going after that awful joke.”
Once you calmed down, you groaned dramatically, tightening your grip on him, “Anything I can do to convince you to stay?”
“Maybe one thing.” He smirked, leaning up to peck at your neck and jawline. “Grow three more heads and a penis and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Not funny, Hughes.”
And we could live so happily
If no one knows that you're with me
I'm just kidding
But really (Kinda)
Really
Really
“Can I post this?” Jack asked, crossing his arm over your waist to show you his phone. 
It was a picture of the two of you sitting on the boat and smiling at each other. A cute photo, truly, but your face was on full display. Jack noticed your questioning stare, leaning up on her elbow so he could see you better. 
“I don’t know, Jack. I’d rather you not.”
“Okay… can I ask why? I think it’s a cute photo.”
You let out a soft breath, “I’ve seen the comments under some of your posts. I just don’t want anyone saying anything about us.”
He nodded slowly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much? It’s just a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls who think they have a chance with me.” 
You let out a laugh at his comment, “It’s not that I care, I just don’t think I want to put us out there. Not yet, at least.”
“Gotcha. So I can’t post you at all? Or can I do this one?” He showed you his phone again after a few swipes of his thumb, his screen displaying a picture of him Titanic-ing you on the edge of the boat. Your back was to the camera, but he had turned around to look at his brother, giving Ellen the perfect chance to capture his laughter in the image.
Smiling at the picture, you nodded, giving him the okay.
Please please please don't prove I'm right
Please please please
Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice
Jack’s rough hands over your eyes weren’t the most pleasurable feeling. He wasn’t paying attention to his subconscious choice to press the pads of his fingers into your eyes, so you were mumbling constant, “Jack.”s the whole way to wherever he was taking you. 
Why he couldn’t have just gotten a blindfold was beyond you.
After a few more steps and the familiar creak of the door, he removed his hands. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Once you did, you saw a bunch of red, pink, and white decorations hanging in the kitchen, a small cake in the middle with little figures of you and Jack on the top of it. 
You gasped softly, taking in the scene. You knew Jack was never one to go above and beyond for silly little holidays like Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sap for celebrating anything and everything, so he figured you would like it. 
Jack had turned to admire his handiwork, but by the time he turned back to you, tears were streaming down your face as an upside-down smile covered your face. He couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. 
“You aren’t supposed to cry!” He exclaimed in between short laughs. 
You sniffled, “I know! But how can I not?”
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug as he swayed you softly, your dramatic cries turning into laughs once you got over the initial shock.
“Thank you, Jack. I love it.” 
He placed a soft kiss atop your head, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”
Heartbreak is one thing
My egos another
Jack stormed into your apartment, startling you from your place on the couch. You had forgotten you gave him a spare key. 
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, immediately standing up once you saw the look on his face.
His eyes were red, as well as the rest of his face. “Shoulder.” Was the only word he was able to get out before tears of frustration began spilling from his face. 
You had never seen Jack this vulnerable, so you had no idea what to do. You guided him to the couch, gently pulling him into your arms. 
He eventually calmed down, taking a few deep breaths. You didn’t give him the chance to speak before you chirped in. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
“Talked to the PT guy. I’m out for the season.” He explained, his voice trembling. 
You let out a sympathetic sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jack.” 
He shook his head, “No. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to rest it. But my dumbass ego decided to ignore you. And now look what it got me.”
“Hey. This is in no way your fault. Could you have rested? Yes. But, if the trainers didn’t believe you were fine enough you wouldn’t even have had the choice to pick.” You placed your hand on his non-injured shoulder, “You picked your team. You picked the game that you love. You went all the way until it stopped you and that is not your fault.”
Taking a minute to process your words, Jack blinked, his eyes never leaving yours. He opted to not respond, instead just leaned his body into you, wanting to be held. 
“I’ve got you, my love. No matter what you have to do or how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”
“Thank you.” Was the last thing he mumbled before settling in the warmth of your chest, pushing you back onto the couch so the two of you could sleep.
I beg you don't embarrass me
Mother fucker ohhh
Please please please
“All right. Big impression number two.” Jack joked, trying to ease your nerves. 
He had met your parents. Now it was time for you to meet his grandparents. You had already met Jim and Ellen, but somehow meeting their parents seemed a lot more intimidating.
Jack noticed your eyes trained on the floor, so he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, causing your gaze to shift to him. 
“They’ll love you. I’ve told them how helpful you’ve been throughout this whole thing and they said they can’t wait to meet you. Just relax.” He explained, his words calming you just a bit. 
One knock from the door was all it took before Ellen opened the door, immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Hi! How are you?”
You laughed at her joyful reaction, “I’m doing great, you?”
She let out a sigh, “Jim’s mother is driving me nuts. I swear, you can’t cook one meal without that woman getting involved. I love her but, jeez.” She turned her attention to her second son, “How are you, Jack? How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s getting there. As for your Nana problem, I’m sure Y/N could be a good mediator,” Jack suggested, sending you a wink as you turned to look back at him with wide eyes.
Ellen gasped, “Oh you’re right! Would you mind, Y/N?” 
You hesitated, “Um. Sure, why not?”
Jack’s mom pulled you by the hand into the kitchen, Jack’s laughter fading behind you as he stepped into the warmth of the house, shutting the door behind him.
If you wanna go and be stupid
Don't do it in front of me
If you don't wanna cry to my music
Don't make me hate you prolifically
Please x9
“Goddamn it, Jack.” You mumbled to yourself, seeing his sling on the kitchen bar with a sticky note with ‘sorry! <3” on it in rushed handwriting. 
He had told you he was just going to go watch his Dad and brothers golf but had a change of plans. You sighed and pulled out your phone, taking a picture of the scene in front of you and sending it to Jack.
y/n 
Seriously?
jack
Whoops
You let out a grumble at his response, grabbing the sling and the keys to the golf cart before driving up to the country club. 
After a few circles around the holes, you spotted Jack and his family. You stepped on the pedal, rushing to get up before Jack had a go. 
“Alright, Jacky. Your go.” Quinn stated, sitting in the golf cart, ready to observe his brother’s swing. 
Unfortunately for Jack, you were faster. “Jack Rowden Hughes!”
The Hughes’ men’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, especially Jack’s. They all turned around to look at you, a look in your eyes that could only be described as crazy. 
You stomped over to Jack, ignoring the rest of the guys. You shoved the sling into his chest, crossing your arms immediately after. 
“Jack, you can’t be golfing right now! The doctor said you have two more weeks with that thing!” You exclaimed. 
Quinn spoke up, “Two weeks? Rowdy, you told us your doctor cleared you.”
Jack let out a sigh as his cover had been blown, “Just wanted to golf.” He mumbled. 
You scoffed, “I’ve worked my ass off for you and this is what you do? I’ve taken care of your meds, when you’re supposed to take them, washing that thing for you because you couldn’t. Doing all the work around your house so that you wouldn’t have to and Luke could focus on finishing his rookie year, and this is what you do?” 
Everyone was silent as you scolded Jack, knowing fully well you were right. You had picked up the slack around his and Luke’s shared apartment throughout his recovery, and the fact that he wanted to disregard all of that for a game of golf was disrespectful. 
“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to get out here before summer’s over and Quinn leaves for Vancouver and Luke and I for Jersey. All I wanted was a normal summer, leave my injury at the door, you know?”
You gave him a soft smile, “I get that, but Jack. You’re almost at the point where you can do all of this, without having to worry about anything else. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so many things for this, don’t throw it away for something you can do in two weeks.”
“She’s right, son.” Jim spoke, “We know you love golfing, but you love hockey just as much. Don’t ruin the progress you’ve made, all right?”
Jack nodded, “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.” He shifted his attention back to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Probably light yourself on fire.” Luke chirped, gaining a laugh from all of you.
You pulled Jack into a hug, taking his hand and guiding him to sit next to his brother.
745 notes · View notes
soobnny · 7 months ago
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dating him | yang jeongin
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❝ why’d you come into my life so late? ❞
chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | JEONGIN
guys this one’s a secret romantic
even the boys are shocked when he tells them he has a gf now so casually
like WDYM ?!!??
anon said this but picture the boys eating at a restaurant
and the boys r like the food here is crazy good like how’d u find this place
and he goes idk my gf recommended it
and then there’s silence
before all hell breaks loose
bc wdym … wdym u have a gf and u didn’t tell us ????????????
dramatic faces of betrayal from hyunjin and han i can imagine bc their baby didn’t tell him
i think seungmin would know just bc they’re dorm mates and i think jeongin trusts to ask him advice without BOOKING him to the boys
he seems nonchalant on the outside, just a silly boy
but he’s the sweetest
i think he’d treat love so gently ☹️☹️
he’s always wanted to explore romance, always wanted to find it
he couldn’t ever admit it out loud bc he knows he’d get teased
he was the boys’ baby after all
and since he was the boys’ baby, by association, you were now their baby too
u two are the couple they adore
they act like they’re ur parents
chan dad mode activated
anyways he’s kind of emotional and sensitive
so i think the both of u navigate through love for the first time together
it’s a lot of ups and downs
BUT …. it’s led to him realizing just how much he loves you
i totally believe you’d go on either the most goofy dates or very expensive dates
no in between
he’d be the type to treat you and have staycations at 5-star hotels
you’d just cuddle and watch movies and eat room service
YES I SAID CUDDLE
even the boys were shocked when they saw it for the first time
bc ?!!!???? their baby ?!!!?? physical touch ?!!?
jeongin never minds when it’s with u
but it’s also something he’s had to learn
he’s very appreciative of ur patience
anyways back to ur dates
i can imagine u guys just buying a bunch of strawberry cakes and doing a taste testing
like u’d record it and everything
u can’t post it bc he kisses u like 928373 times in that video
there’s a makeout session like once
oh, and dinner dates
and very competitive rock paper and scissors over who pays for the food
except when he loses, he’d cheat and say he’d go to the bathroom but he’s actually paying for it
so keep ur eyes on that boy
i think he’d also be the type to really enjoy clothes shopping with you
you’d just put on a fashion show for each other
he’d end up buying a few things he rly liked on you
he’s got good fashion sense
might sneak in a matching item or two
maybe some shoes so it’s more subtle
jeongin also loves playing tourist in ur own city
the two of u would just walk around
visit some tourist spots
take pictures even
it’s just rly funny and rly cute
it feels a lot like being a kid again with him
u guys even buy useless toys for kids and bring them back to the dorm
😭😭😭😭
this includes like those little charms for kids
u two end up making craft bracelets and necklaces
and even tho they look ridiculous, u wear them in public
this is ur own version of promise rings
anywahs minho ends up taking some of the toys u’d bought for his cats
when the boys come home, u two are usually just cooped up in jeongin’s room
bc he wants his privacy!!!!!!!!
but when he lets it slip, and u two fall asleep on the couch, expect lots of pictures taken
i’m sorry
the boys are also emotional
they’d wake u up so u guys can have dinner together
he’d get so blushy and embarrassed and threaten his hyungs ofc
han jisung: when will it be my turn ???
they just want love from innie too
UGHHGHG kicking each other’s foot under the table while eating
he loves annoying u
but u love annoying him equally
when u aren’t over at the dorms
he’d be the type to text you random links on youtube at 3am
those charlie bit my finger type beat
gorilla destroys crocodile epic video
jeongin also gives me the “sends u things” vibe
u’d suddenly receive flowers without warning
or get those “did you eat?” texts and if u say no, yeah, best believe he’s already delivering food to u
hmmmmm u’d probably be his plus one in fancy events
but u guys end up ditching those to eat at fast food chains
yes … in ur very fancy dress and his rly sexy suit …. out in a fast food restaurant
u guys get weird looks but
jeongin doesn’t mind 🙁
as long as he’s happy with u
AWWWWWWWW
u guys also attend or volunteer for charity events together
i think he’s rly found his match
treat each other well !!!!!
congrats on finding love
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note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy
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honeekyuu · 5 months ago
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talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]
ten. ruin
previous || masterlist || next
a/n. uhm....... yeah.
warnings: swearing, phone sex
✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗
✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗
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“No you didn’t-”
“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”
“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”
“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”
“Did you leave?!”
“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 
You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”
“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 
“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”
“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 
“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 
“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.
“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”
“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”
You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”
“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”
You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.
But still, the question lingers.
“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 
You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.
“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”
You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”
“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”
“I know.”
“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”
“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”
“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”
“No,” you mutter. He laughs.
“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 
You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 
“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”
You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.
His name feels important.
The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 
“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”
Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.
Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.
“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”
“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”
“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.
“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.
“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.
“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.
“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”
You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”
“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”
“Do what?”
“You know exactly fucking what.”
Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 
“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 
Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 
“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 
He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 
“You know I am, pretty girl.” 
“How long?”
“Since you said my name.”
You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.
“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.
He whines in response.
Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 
You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 
“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“
“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”
“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”
“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“
“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 
Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 
“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 
“Both.” 
“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”
“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 
“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”
You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 
“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 
“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 
You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 
It would be rude not to reciprocate. 
You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.
“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 
“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.
“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 
You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”
“Shit.” 
You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 
Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.
But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 
You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 
Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 
Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—
“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 
You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”
“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 
You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 
“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 
Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 
He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”
Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 
“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 
The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 
“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  
You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.
So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.
“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”
He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.
He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 
He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 
“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 
His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 
“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”
“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”
“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”
“Oh, my God, I’m-”
“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”
“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”
“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”
It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.
By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 
Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.
You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.
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chsopnk · 5 months ago
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「 ✦ XOXO ✦ 」
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☆. # SHIP — choso, toji, sukuna, toge (separately) x gn!reader
☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — first kisses with the boys. ;; requested.
☆. # WARNINGS — mentions of blood in toji’s part.
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CHOSO.
i’d imagine your first kiss with choso would be sweet. definitely the most normal out of all of them (😭)
he’s never kissed someone before so you’re his first kiss ever!!
he really doesn’t know what to do at all. when you lean closer to him he’s like ????? because he’s not entirely sure what you’re trying to do
but once your lips touch his, his face goes BRIGHT RED
definitely freezes up and just stares at you wide-eyed
i think the first kiss with choso wouldn’t be anything wild. honestly, it’s probably just a little peck on the lips
like a “mwah” and that’s it, but he still freaks out about it
also. choso will definitely look all dazed afterwards, his fingers reaching up to touch his lips
might be a little confused at first since he’s not really sure what to make of it
give him 5 minutes and he’ll be back and asking, “can you do that again?”
TOJI.
with this one, there’s no holding back. he doesn’t care if it’s the first or last kiss.
he will bruise your lips 🥴🥴
toji would hold the back of your head and press you even closer to him, despite the fact that not a piece of paper would fit between you two
first kiss? no. he’s eating your mouth.
i feel like even if he told himself (and maybe you) that he’ll be gentle and that it’ll be this sweet little thing, he just CANNOT hold himself back
self control = 0.000 for this man i stg
but then if it does go out of control, trust that he’ll blame you for it. you’re just too hot, what can he do against that? 💀
i’d imagine your first kiss with toji would happen after a particularly hard mission. when one of you is all bloody and you’re both exhausted and aching.
and it’s definitely a ‘heat of the moment’ type of thing and after that, it’ll take 5-7 business days for both of you to come to terms with the fact that MAYBE, just maybe, you’ve got some kind of feelings for each other
he doesn’t know what a gentle kiss is and will always use tongue. the kiss to seal the wedding? good luck 😭😭😭
SUKUNA.
first important question here is: which mouth are you trying to kiss 💀 mf got like 3.
this man’s kisses are nasty—whether in a good or bad way is honestly your decision LMAO
with sukuna, it’s all or nothing. so there’s no sweet little peck on the lips.
it also heavily depends on who you are, i think. but if we’re talking about the first kiss you have with him, i’d say it’d probably happen during a fight.
as funny as that is, he likes when strong people fight him and i think he likes it even better if they’re a little feisty
now he probably always thought you were interesting and you’ve been hanging out together. but yeah. first kiss after or DURING a (probably) physical fight you have with him 💀
he’s rough with you.
a lot of tongue, teeth clashing probably. another one that will eat your mouth.
one hand is wrapped around your neck when he kisses you, always.
he also bites (😒)
TOGE.
i think with toge, you were probably best friends before the kiss happened.
you were on his bed together in the dorms. he was playing a game on his phone and you were watching him.
you were probably messing around with each other, joking and fighting with pillows or something like that.
and it’s the most cliché thing ever but:
he somehow ends up on top of you, his arms on either side of your head.
and then you just stare at each other for a while. both of your cheeks flaring up a bright red at the proximity, but neither of you tries to move away.
with toge, it’s slow and gentle i’d imagine.
not a quick peck, but there’s no tongue involved or anything—at least not during the very first kiss you guys have together.
but it’s a gentle touch, his lips lingering for a while before he pulls away. and then there’s another round of simply staring at each other. both of you are a bit dazed, looking into each other’s eyes while trying to figure out what exactly just happened
but once the moment’s broken, toge gets off of you, hiding his face in his collar to stop you from seeing just how red his cheeks are <3
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covenofagatha · 1 month ago
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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 8)
You struggle after Rio and Agatha disappear from your motel room
Word count: 5500
Warnings: murder, sex, oral, strap-on, sex toys
A/N: thank you to everyone who read this fic and I really hope you guys are satisfied with the ending!
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It’s been a month since you’ve last seen them. 
It’s been a month since they fled your motel room and left in their respective cars, going somewhere, because they either thought you were serious about catching them, weren’t entirely sure, or for some third reason unknown to you. 
You can’t believe they would just leave like that. Leave you like that. After everything, they thought you would just betray them? 
Blood had boiled through your veins that night, anger at having come so close to what you think you’ve always wanted, and you had swept through the room in a tornado, throwing flowers and shoving papers off the table and banging on the wall. Tony tried to get you to calm down but you had snarled and he had looked at you like you were a feral, rabid animal. 
Maybe you were. 
You grabbed your keys and stormed off to your car, leaving Tony to deal with the dead body. Lead foot on the gas pedal, you drove hysterically to Agatha and Rio’s house, pleading and begging and praying that they would be there. 
It didn’t even look like they had come back. You turned the place upside down, out of rage, out of fear, out of hurt.
You had sunk to your knees and hadn’t moved from your spot on the floor the entire night until you felt a hand on your shoulder after light was breaking through the windows. 
Looking up, a pinch of hope in your heart, you were incredibly dismayed to find that it was only Tony. 
“Come on, kid,” he had said. “Let’s get you home.” 
You had numbly agreed and two hours later, you were on the jet with him flying back to Miami. He had told the Westview PD that you had gotten far too entangled in the case and that for your own safety, he was pulling you off it. Plus, it seemed that the killers had left Westview. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to reveal their identities, even though you knew it wouldn’t be hard for them to piece it together with Agatha and Rio gone too. 
When you had landed back in Miami, you had attempted to resume your normal life, but the memories of their mouths against yours and the thrill you felt with them haunted you. 
The cases in Miami were boring, even when it was a female killer. It was as if all the colors in the world had faded and everything was just a dull gray now. 
Tony made you go to therapy but it didn’t help. And you kind of had trust issues with therapists now. 
You would wake up, go to work in a zombie-like state, come home, and sit in the dark until you dozed off, hoping you would wake up to find them standing there. 
They never did. 
Two weeks after coming back, the bags under your eyes were prominent and you looked racoonish, you were hardly eating because you couldn’t taste it, and you were getting maybe two hours of sleep a night. You spent the nights now pouring over the database, trying to find new cases that could be them in case they were trying to send you a message. 
Nothing. The Witch and Lady Death, Agatha and Rio, had completely vanished. 
They had brought you into their life, made you remember what you did, made you into a murderer, and then left. You were supposed to be with them right now, wherever they were. 
It was funny, you hadn’t been completely sure you wanted to go with them until you couldn’t. 
The irony left a bitter taste in your mouth. 
“Agent, you need to stop all this moping and crying,” Tony had finally snapped at you one day, about three weeks after you’d been back. “They’re gone, they got away, let it go. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up.” 
You had clenched your jaw, your resentment at him being the reason why you were here coming back with a vengeance. It had dissipated a little, but now it was a roaring fire in your head. “I quit,” you had said, and his mouth had dropped open but you were already putting your badge and your gun on his desk. 
It has been a week since that, and you’ve spent it curled up on your couch, staring into space. 
There’s a knock on your door and you stumble toward it. The pizza guy is standing on your porch and you take the box and hand him a $20 before slamming the door in his face. 
You’re not sure when the last time you’ve actually said a word out loud was. 
Maybe since you’ve quit. 
You know you’re in a depressive episode, it happens sometimes, but this one feels worse than all the others. 
And then the sadness turns to anger and how dare they do this to you. Do they not realize that they’ve completely fucked up your life? Are you ever going to see them again? 
When you get to the bargaining point soon after, because apparently you’re going through the five stages of grief, a plan begins to form in your mind. 
Their murders brought you to Westview. Maybe you can bring them here. 
For the first time, you let yourself go into the suitcase of clothes they gave you. You reach into the small pocket of it and pull out a vial, one you took from their house on the last night when you had torn through their house. One of Agatha’s “potions.” 
And you finally feel life starting to seep back into your bones. 
Now you just had to figure out who. Could be a random person, it would definitely be easier that way. But you need to draw attention to yourself, need to make sure that they see it. 
Your doorbell rings and you shove the vial back into the bag and go see who it is. 
It’s Tony. You swing open the door and he breezes past you into your living room. 
“Come on in,” you mutter sardonically under your breath, your voice sounding hoarse. 
You can hear him scoff and then the curtains are drawn and you wince when you realize just how dark it’s been in here. The sunlight burns you and you take in the mess that your house has become. Plates with half-eaten food and cups still mostly full litter the coffee table and bookshelves, stuff you couldn’t even be bothered to clean. 
Tony points to the box of pizza. “Early lunch?” 
As if you know what time it is. “Yeah, something like that,” you shrug. Did you order that today? Or was that from yesterday? The day before? It’s all completely blurred together. 
“How are you doing?” He asks and you almost snort. 
How does it look like you’re doing? “I’m hanging in there,” you say and he forces a smile. There’s an awkwardness between you and the man who used to be a father figure and you know it’s all your fault. 
“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Pepper’s out of town and it’s just me, so let me cook something for you. I want to make sure you’re eating, I’ve been worried about you,” he admits and it tugs at your heartstrings just a little. 
You nod. “Yeah, okay, sure. What time?” 
He checks his watch and you can see 11:31 am on it. You could’ve sworn it was some time in the evening. “How about six? I can make some pasta? Chicken alfredo, your favorite, how does that sound?” 
“That would be great,” you agree, trying to ignore how much it hurts that he remembers. 
“Okay, good,” he says. 
A silence stretches between you and you rock back and forth on your feet. “Um, can I bring anything? Dessert or a side or something?”
He smiles for real this time and chokes out a laugh. “How about that crumb cake you used to bring to all the dinners? Remember when Happy ate almost the entire thing and then pretended he hadn’t?” 
“Like the crumbs weren’t all over his mouth and his suit,” you finish the story, chuckling. Back when things were simple. “I can whip one up, don’t worry.” 
“Excellent. Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight then?” He says and you purse your lips in an attempt to smile. Did you forget how?
“Yeah, thanks,” you confirm and he dips his head before making some excuse about why he has to leave. You lead him to the door and then close it after him, exhaling for a long time. 
A random person being killed might not get the attention of Agatha and Rio. But the director of an FBI branch? 
That would most likely do the trick. 
Now you just need a few more things. It can’t just be a sloppy kill, you need it to be direct, exact. You need it to be so much like their murders, need it to look like The Witch and Lady Death followed you back down to Miami, that they know with one-hundred percent certainty that it was you. 
You have the drug. You have a knife that can be used to cut through his flesh. You have some bleach, but you don’t have the hydrofluoric acid for clean-up or a purple azalea. 
It will be tough, probably impossible, to get the acid so you drop that. Even if it appears to be a copycat killer, the result will still hopefully be the same. 
Or they won’t come and you’ll get arrested.
It’s a risk you’re willing to take. 
You go to the grocery store to pick up the things you need for the crumb cake and then stop by a florist to get the flowers. It’s a smaller one, a little further out of town with no cameras, so it will be harder to track down whoever bought the flowers soon to be at a crime scene. When you order a bouquet of purple azaleas, the older lady at the register coos. 
“Aw, honey, whoever you’re getting these for must really be a special someone. These are beautiful flowers,” she tells you and you smile wistfully despite yourself. 
“Yes, they are,” you agree, talking more about the people being special than the flowers being beautiful, but both are true. The sickly sweet honeysuckle scent has become a pleasant smell to you, whereas before, it made you want to throw up. 
She hands the bouquet over to you and you pay in cash. Then you drive back to your house, put the flowers in a vase, and bake the cake. 
An hour later, when it’s ready, you take out the vial and douse the top with it. You shouldn’t feel a thrill, shouldn’t feel a burst of adrenaline run through you, but this is the most alive you’ve felt in a month. 
You put on a dress, black for the occasion, and do your hair and makeup. It feels like you’re on a death march, walking toward something inevitable that will either make or break you. If it doesn’t work, if it doesn’t bring them back to you, you’re not sure what you’re going to do. 
Spend the rest of your life on the run? Rot in prison? Or –
No. You’re not going to think about that, not even going to count that as an option. It’s going to work. It has to. 
And then it’s time to go. You wrap up the cake, put a blazer over your dress and slip the knife and a single flower into the pockets, grab cleaning supplies, and get in your car. You’ve been to Tony’s house a few times for FBI Christmas parties and the occasional dinner with Tony, his wife, and a few other colleagues, but you still remember which way to go. It’s complete muscle memory, you don’t even realize that you’re driving until you get there. 
Your heart rattles against your ribcage, but not from nerves. It’s from excitement. 
God, you’re really fucked in the head, aren’t you? You tell yourself that it’s not because you’re about to kill him, it’s because you’re going to see them soon. 
It doesn’t take long for Tony to open the door after you ring the doorbell and your breath is already coming out short and shallow so you have to slow it before he suspects something. 
“The cake,” you say, presenting it to him and he rubs his hand together before taking the pan from you. He leads you into the kitchen where you smell the pasta he’s been cooking. It makes your mouth water and for the first time in a month, you actually want to eat. 
The dinner is nice; pleasant conversation, good food and wine. He catches you up on some cases the FBI is working on, but there’s no hostility in his voice. You laugh and smile and do whatever is appropriate, just killing time until the main event. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about them, about Agatha and Rio, and your fingers twitch against your leg in anticipation. 
Tony goes and gets the cake and your breath stutters in your throat when he unwraps it. “Do you want a piece?” He asks, cutting himself a big one. 
“No, I’m pretty full,” you say and he shrugs, accepting it without a fight. You watch him with wide eyes as he takes his first bite and you swallow hard when he goes back for more. 
“Mm, this is so good,” he moans with his mouth full and you can’t help but wonder how long the drug takes to work. 
You don’t have to wonder much longer, because after the fourth bite, he coughs. You can’t breathe when he sets his fork down and reaches up to loosen his tie. There’s a change on his face and it absolutely delights you. 
He slides his chair back and you jump up. 
“Is there something in this?” He asks, but he sounds weak, tense. You walk around the table as Tony slides forward out of the chair and onto his knees. You bend down and tilt his chin up with your fingers. He’s struggling to hang on, little gasps slipping out of his mouth, but your eyes gleam as you take in the sight. 
The skin on his face tightens, shrivels, and dark lines etch into his face as his cheeks start to hollow out. You’ve got to give it to Agatha, she knows her way around chemicals. 
It’s only another minute or two and his body goes limp and slips down to the floor. The heat inside you is back, the ache floods through you, and more than anything, you wish they were there to take care of you. 
They will be soon. 
You just have to follow through on the rest of it. 
Standing up, you stretch your back just a little and then bend back over and grab onto his feet. You’re stronger than you look, but it still takes a good amount of effort to drag him into the living room. Agatha and Rio didn’t seem to stage their crime scenes per se, but no body was ever found in the kitchen, always on the floor of the living room. 
You straddle his body, unbutton his shirt, and pull the knife out from your pocket. Taking a deep breath, you hold it over where his heart is, grip the handle with both hands, and plunge. 
It goes in easy. Blood oozes out, but honestly, not as much as you thought. You remember reading that once the heart stops, the body doesn’t bleed as much, but since he just died and you’re cutting near the heart, there might be a little. 
That must be why Agatha and Rio had a relatively easy clean-up. 
You grunt with the exertion, dragging the knife in a circle. It’s harder than it seems to break through the bones of the ribcage, but you’re finally able to reach in and grab it. 
Pulling the heart out makes power rush through you and you squeeze it just to know what it feels like. It’s squishy almost, and more blood spurts out. 
And then you grimace. What are you supposed to do with it? You could leave it, but then you risk your DNA being found. You could take it with you, but you have no need for a heart. 
An idea crosses your mind and while it’s not a great one, it will definitely take care of the problem. You take it back into the kitchen, stuff it into the drain, and put a plastic container over it before turning on the garbage disposal. You have to hold the container with two hands so it doesn't fly off from the sheer force of the disposal destroying the heart. 
When you finally stop hearing resistance, you wash the container better than you’ve ever cleaned something before, making sure to get rid of any trace of chunks of heart and blood. 
And then you run out to your car to grab the bleach, gloves, and sponges from your car and get to work, scrubbing the floor until there’s nothing left. And then you put the purple flower into the gaping wound of his chest and you’re gone. 
When you get back to your house, you call the police and leave an anonymous tip about the sound of a struggle coming from Tony’s address, too impatient to wait for Pepper to come home and find him. 
And then you bide your time. 
A day passes. You turn on the news to see a special report about the director of the Miami FBI branch being murdered in his own home by seemingly the same killer as one from New Jersey. 
Two days. There’s a nationwide manhunt for the killers. You wonder if you’ve made it even more unsafe for them to come get you. 
Or maybe they’re just not coming. 
Three days. 
You’re back on the couch, in a cocoon of blankets, coming to terms that maybe you’re just never going to see them again. You wear the clothes they got you, anything to make you feel like they’re still in your life, and spray their perfume over you and over the blankets and over the pillows until your entire house smells like Thanatos. 
On the fourth day, you decide that you need to eat something or you’re going to wither away right there. You trudge your way into the kitchen slowly, a quilt wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re opening the fridge when you hear something. 
Your door is opening. 
Forcing yourself to calm down, you grab leftover chicken alfredo you took from Tony’s house and turn around. The container slips from your hand when you find Rio and Agatha standing there on the other side of your island. 
“Hi,” you breathe, feeling like you could cry tears of relief. 
Rio takes out a knife, twirls it between her fingers, and stalks over to you. You step back against the refrigerator and she presses the blade to the center of your clavicle and you should be scared. 
But then she leans in and sniffs up your neck like Agatha did in the evidence locker that day and you’re just excited. 
The older woman’s eyes watch the two of you carefully and you meet her gaze, seeing the heat in them. 
The knife digs into you, piercing your skin, and you can feel blood dripping down. Rio’s eyes dart down and her hazel eyes are dark when they flick back to yours. 
“Hey, doll,” she says, voice husky. “We saw your little stunt.” 
A smirk pulls at the corners of your lips. “Did you like it?” 
Agatha walks over, trailing her fingers on the surface of the island. She invades your space and swipes up the blood from your chest and holds her finger up to your mouth. “We sure did, superstar,” she says and you envelope her finger with your lips, sucking your blood off it. 
And then Rio sticks the knife into the waistband of her pants and draws you in for a hot kiss. She moans when she tastes the metallic flavor on your tongue and grips your waist to pull you in even closer to her. 
Agatha yanks on your hair, dragging you away from Rio’s mouth with a strand of saliva and then her lips are on your swollen ones, tugging and biting your bottom lip. 
While her tongue slides into your mouth, Rio kisses down your neck and over the slight puncture from her knife, soothing the sting. 
“I didn’t think you guys would come,” you confess against Agatha. 
Rio bites down on your collarbone and it makes you hiss. “We just wanted to make sure you actually wanted this,” she says hotly. Your chest flushes and she takes out the knife again and swiftly cuts through the silky fabric of your shirt. 
“I do,” you say, pleading for them to believe you, pouring all the emotions you’ve felt the past month at the thought of losing them into your tone. Rio kisses down your breasts, nipping at you through your bra and it makes you gasp. 
Agatha pulls away from you and steps behind Rio, moving her hair and pressing her mouth to the younger woman’s neck. “Poor Rio was so upset to think you would betray us like that,” she purrs and Rio nods, pouting mockingly. “I think you better make it up to her first, show her how much you want this.” 
The double meaning is clear and you are only too eager. You flip her around so her back is against the fridge, maybe a little more rougher than you need to be, and sink to your knees in front of her. 
You fumble with the waistband of her pants and she tips your chin up with her knife, reminding you of the night she did that with her gun. 
“Do a good job and we’ll reward you,” she says. 
Your hands finally drag her pants and underwear down and you smirk. “Ask your wife if she thinks I did a good job last time,” you retort and Agatha chuckles darkly from behind you and grips your hair before shoving your face into Rio’s dripping pussy. 
Rio gasps and Agatha holds you in place while you flatten your tongue and drag it through Rio’s folds. Her hips jerk on your face and you look up through your eyelashes to watch Agatha kiss her wife. 
Her scent invades your nose and her flavor fills your tastebuds and you moan, losing yourself in her. You lick around her clit until she’s practically shaking and she has to wrap an arm around Agatha’s shoulders to stay balanced. 
When you finally give in and suck on her clit, Rio keens and you can feel her growing even wetter on your chin. You see Agatha grip Rio’s throat and the sight makes you groan from how hot it is. You can hear Rio’s messy breathing as she starts to rut her hips against your face and you pick up the intensity, lapping harder at her cunt. 
Your jaw starts to hurt but you don’t dare stop because when you dip your tongue inside and curl it up, licking up against her walls, she clenches and the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard fall out of her mouth. 
“I’m close,” she pants and Agatha, still sliding her lips against her wife’s, reaches down to rub Rio’s clit, her finger bumping against your nose while you keep thrusting your tongue inside Rio. 
Rio’s getting tighter around you and her breaths are more constricted until she finally lets out a loud moan and her whole body jerks and her walls clamp around your tongue as she rides out her orgasm. 
Agatha steps back so you’re able to rest back on your heels and you smile up blissfully at them, the entire bottom of your face soaked. 
“Did I do a good job?” You simper and Rio’s hand grips into your hair and pulls you up. It stings but it only makes you more turned on. 
Rio cleans your face with her mouth, taking extra care to suck on your lips. She nips and you breathe out sharply. “You did acceptable,” she says haughtily and you grin. 
“Let’s go, superstar,” Agatha says, leaning in to kiss you and then Rio, wanting to taste her wife. “Where’s your bedroom?”
You point down the hall and you follow them to it. You can feel the pool between your legs and each step puts the tiniest bit of pressure on your clit, making you squirm while you walk. 
“Please,” you whisper. They seemingly ignore you and tell you to sit on your bed while they root through your room, maybe looking for a wire or a camera or something. 
But then Rio chuckles when she opens your nightstand drawer and you know what she’s found. “Look, Aggie,” she says, holding up some of your sex toys that you keep in there. It’s been far too long since you’ve used any of them and you clench involuntarily around nothing. 
Agatha walks over and pulls out a harness and a dildo and shows them to you. “Do you want me to fuck you with this, pet?” She asks and you nod eagerly, practically drooling. 
“Agatha,” Rio says in a hush, holding up another toy, a small egg vibrator and a remote. When she thumbs at the dial on the side, it turns on in her hand. “Wear this so I can control it while you’re fucking her?” 
You let out a filthy moan at the question and the older women laugh. “Seems like we got our answer,” Agatha says, making quick work of pants and underwear. You shrug off the tatters of your cut shirt and quickly take yours off too, the cold air on your sopping pussy making you shiver. 
Rio kneels down and kisses Agatha’s thighs and then mouths at Agatha’s cunt for a few seconds, before sliding the toy into her. Agatha lets out a small groan and your jaw drops open. You might cum the second you feel her skin on you. 
The electricity is back, for the first time in forever, and it races under your skin, lighting your entire body up. You’re hungry, so hungry for more, and Agatha steps into the harness and Rio helps her fasten the dildo into it. 
Agatha climbs onto the bed and you scramble back to lay against the pillows, legs propping up and spreading. 
“So eager,” Agatha tuts, positioning herself and rubbing the dildo against your entrance, coating the toy with your wetness. She drags it up and down and presses against your clit until you’re sweating under her, your hands coming up to hold onto her hips. 
She pushes the tip into you and your walls bear down around it, clenching and trying to drag it in. Agatha chuckles at your desperate state, but it quickly turns into a moan when Rio turns the dial on the control and she jerks forward violently, pushing the toy all the way inside you in one motion. 
Your head drops back and your back arches, forcing your hips up even more so you can somehow feel her deeper. “Fuck,” you curse, the fullness exactly what you need to satiate the ache inside you. 
Agatha takes a deep breath, fingers digging in tightly to the bed next to you, when Rio turns up the vibrations. 
“Pet,” Agatha says in a low voice, slowly starting to shallowly thrust inside you like it would hurt her to pull out more. You sharply inhale when she curves into the spongy spot each time and your heart is beating so fast you think it might explode. It feels so good already that tears are pricking in your eyes and Agatha leans down to capture your lips as she picks up the speed. 
The vibrations from the toy inside her are so strong that it’s affecting the dildo inside you and you’re reduced to a moaning mess. You tilt your head and through your hazy vision and the fog settling in your head, you can see Rio with a hand between her legs, watching you get fucked by her wife. 
“I wanted you guys to come back so badly,” you practically sob, hips rising to meet each one of her thrusts, each motion of the cock in and out of your body rubbing against your clit and making you gasp. 
Agatha chuckles breathlessly above you, the exertion causing a slight sheen of sweat to perspire on her forehead. Her cheeks are red and she tosses her hair over her shoulder so she can see you better. She’s biting on her red lip as she takes you in. “We know, superstar. We missed you, too. But we’re never letting you go now.” 
“Good,” you say and you pull her down for a kiss. Her thrusts are getting sloppy now, losing rhythm and her hips stuttering, but you don’t care because you’re already so close. 
And so is she, by the looks of it. Her cock fills you perfectly, and you can feel the veins on the toy dragging against your walls, and she’s panting into your open mouth, both of you exchanging hot air between the two of you. Your senses are heightened, on fire even, and you’re on the edge, tingles, fireworks, spreading through your body. You’ve never felt this alive in your life and you crave more before you’re even done right now. 
And then she puts a hand around your throat and it’s like all the air from your lungs dissipates. She squeezes lightly and you moan explicitly, feeling like a livewire is running through you. 
“Agatha,” you whine. 
She huffs and somehow speeds up, and she lets out broken whimpers when Rio turns the vibrator up even more. “Cum for me, pet, cum with me,” she says and presses on your throat to constrict your airway ever the slightest and you do. 
You slur incoherent words while you orgasm, the dam inside you breaking and pleasure floods through you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Agatha slumps on top of you, her hips convulsing inside you involuntarily as she rides out hers too. 
She lays there for a minute or two, your walls twitching around her. And then she pulls out and flops on the bed next to you. Rio comes over and gingerly takes the strap-on off Agatha and pulls the toy out of her. 
“You both okay?” Rio jokes and you both nod, thoroughly worn out. 
“What now?” You ask and the two of them look at each other. You cannot survive them walking away from you again. 
Agatha props herself up on an elbow and brushes a sweaty hair off your forehead. “What do you want, superstar?” 
“You two.” 
Rio chuckles. “Good, because if you didn’t say that, we brought gasoline and we were going to set your house on fire.” 
You gape at her and look back and forth between Agatha and Rio. “For real?” They both nod solemnly, although you can see Agatha trying not to smile. The wheels in your head turn. A fire started this whole thing, fifteen years ago. Maybe it makes sense that fire is what ends it. “Do it,” you tell them. 
“Excuse me?” Rio says, clearly taken aback. 
“Set my house on fire, make it look like I’m dead. I have the azaleas downstairs, we can scatter them outside and make it look like The Witch and Lady Death killed me. My death is faked and we go off the grid. It makes sense. You guys followed me from New Jersey, took out my boss, and now you took me out, too. The last two connections to your case.” 
It’s a good plan, even they have to admit it. 
So Agatha goes and gets the gas while you pack up a small bag of things. You leave Rio’s knife and the empty vial from the drug in the living room so it looks like The Witch and Lady Death burned in the fire too. 
You douse the kitchen and trail it to the front door so you have an easy escape. Rio hands you the matchbox, and it makes the same sound it made when you strike the match on it as the last time. You take a deep breath, look at them, and they nod. 
You flick it and a brilliant blaze of fire erupts, quickly spreading through the whole house. 
And you don’t even look back on your way to their car, the three of you sliding into it. 
Agatha pulls out of the driveway and you smile to yourself. 
You don’t know where you’re going or what will happen, but you’re with them now, so everything is going to be okay. 
327 notes · View notes
mywritersmind · 5 months ago
Text
CAT PARENTS - LN4
pt.3
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summary : Part three!! Surprise surprise, Lando is in disbelief when Olivia shows up at his race! A weekend in Monaco is all it takes for the two to go from friends to blind idiots that are crushing on each other
OG SUMMARY (A kitten is all it takes to get two strangers in the same bed for the night. Lando likes how she doesn’t know him, Olivia likes the cat that he’s trying to take from her.)
listen up : at this point i’m writing a whole story so more parts will be coming!
word count : 2244
“You’re freaking out. Why?” Max asks me as I enter the Paddock.
My life has been crazy over the past three weeks. I’ve texted and called Lando non stop, Have interacted with all his friends, and am now some sort of F1 fan??
This all landed me right into his world, Max invited me. Not Lando. That’s why I'm freaking out because I'm surprising Lando and I don’t even know if he likes me but I really like him and I miss him even though we’ve literally met once.
“Surprises are nerve-wracking!” I frown at Max as he leads me through the crowds.
“Don’t worry! He will be excited. Trust me.” The way he says those last two words makes me feel more confident. I don’t know how much guys tell their friends about their relationship but I tell my girls everything. I’m hoping it’s close to the same.
I told Max I needed to wait until after the race, I don’t know what kind of preparation he does before and I don’t want to mess anything up.
Max hands me a glass of champagne once we’re in hospitality, “Breathe. Race is in five minutes.” He points down to the garages, “There’s your boy.” my heart beats faster when I see him. ‘Seeing him’ is an interesting phrase because I can only really see his helmet since he’s inside the car.
I relax a bit when Landos teammate's girlfriend joins us. Her name is Lily and even though she’s quiet, she’s incredibly funny and good at making me feel welcome.
Max and Lily help me understand a bit when a red flag happens, some drivers get lapped, the whole dirty air thing.
But before I know it, Lando is crossing the finish line, first.
“Oh my god!” I slap my hand over my mouth as Max grins at me.
“Ready to go see your lover boy?”
⋆。‧˚⋆
From where we left things, Lando and I had facetimed nearly every day, talking about anything and everything. Everytime I show Juan he looks like he’s about to cry and talks about how big she’s getting.
One night however, stuck with me the most.
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His texts were stupid and silly. But I can’t help but wonder why I was the one his mind went to.
Now I'm fiddling with my rings and walking down to the driver's area. Max said he’d have time before a bunch of interviews so I could sneak in quickly.
I knock on his door and when he opens it, I can’t help but smile. His hair is wet with champagne, his curls falling into his face and his suit half unzipped.
His blank stare turns into a wide grin in an instant, “You’re here!” He yells.
I grin, “You’re like sherlock.”
He shakes his head and pulls me into a hug, “Sorry! I’m all gross right now.” He keeps his hands on my waist, “Where is Juna!?”
We talk for five minutes alone, he asks me a million questions and I congratulate him for the millionth time. “Come meet Oscar!” He grabs my hand, all giddy, and drags me to a hallway that’s taken up by three men.
Orange, Red, and Blue.
He introduces me to Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. They all look far too interested in me for three rich and successful men.
“How’d you two meet?” Daniel asks, sipping on his water.
“He tried to steal my cat.” I say easily as Lando hits my arm playfully.
“I tried to help our cat!”
“Our?” Oscar raises a brow.
We tell them about Juna and our ridiculous night in. They’re all laughing at my joke about Lando being a great cat dad when another driver joins us.
“A female?” This one I know, Alex Albon is one of my favorites (especially because his girlfriend is iconic) When all the boys look at Lando the Williams driver laughs, “Woah- When did you get a girlfriend Lan?”
This makes Lando blush, “No she’s- Uh… This is Olivia!” He clarifies awkwardly as Alex looks thoroughly impressed that he embarrassed him before smiling at me and shaking my hand.
⋆。‧˚⋆
Lily is my saving grace tonight. Lando’s been busy all night, he keeps glancing at me from across the room and mouthing ‘i’m sorry’. But it’s honestly no worries because I’ve made a new best friend.
“Are you nervous?” She asks me, sipping on her cocktail in one of the drivers backyards.
I shrug, “A little? It’s weird- like I don’t know anyone but I know the whole world does.”
She laughs, nodding, “You’ll get used to it. Especially with Lando- not that you’re together or anything… but fame sort of follows.”
I hadn't even thought about that. I’ve seen the posts about him, the drama, and gossip that have been spread. I never realized that could be about me one day.
“I didn't mean to freak you out!” she says quickly.
“No! No, Don’t worry. I understand.” we fall into an easy conversation about work and how we’ve each ended up in our respective fields. Alex Albon interrupts us, placing his hand on Lily’s back and smiling.
“Lando is looking for you. Fair warning though… the boys are in interrogation mode.”
I should have listened to Alex’s warning more carefully because now I’m sat in a circle in front of a fire pit, being grilled.
“You seriously didn’t know Lando?” one asks.
“She’s american-”
“Actually her dad is a fan-” Lando tries to defend.
“Christ… of Alonso, not you.” someone laughs.
“Can we keep her?”
I laugh as Lando looks incredibly embarrassed, “She’s not a dog!”
“But I still like her!” It’s Carlos who’s arguing, “You know Alexandra would adore her- and we need someone to keep you in line.”
Charles nods along, “It’s true.”
“In line?” Lando scoffs, “I’m never out of line!”
Oscar raises a brow, “So we’re not gonna talk about that reporter you-”
“Okay!” Lando stops the conversation, “How about you lot have a normal conversation instead of interviewing Liv?”
Max Verstappen crosses his arms, looking pretty intimidating until his eyes light up, “Can I see your shared cat?” Now this is a topic I can talk about. I pull up photos of Juna and I yap about the silly things she’s done and clothes she’s ruined.
“So Lan… when are you getting her on Quadrant?” Max F smirks mischievously.
“She’s also not a guinea pig.” He says, leaning against my chair, “I’m so sorry.” He whispers to me.
“Don’t worry. It’s funny.”
“Can I ask you something, Olivia?” Max starts again and Lando immediately sits up.
“No.” he answers for me.
“What did you think about Lando’s drunk texting because let me tell you- I thought it was hilarious!” Lando’s best friend teases ruthlessly.
I’m trying not to laugh as Lando stands up, “I’m getting a drink!” When he walks past Max he pushes his head, messing up his hair.
I look at Max, “You’re torturing him.”
“He’s friends with you, He can handle it.” He just shrugs and while I try not to cling onto his words, I walk inside.
Lando’s back is turned to me, pouring some water.
I lean against the counter, “Looks like a fun way to celebrate a win.” I joke as he turns around quickly.
“I wanted to show you something after this- obeying the law and everything.” he shrugs. Take me somewhere? God he’s so mysterious yet it’s like I can see right through him.
I smile as he shyly looks down, “So the texts-”
“Lando, It’s fine.”
He shakes his head, his hand going to the back of his neck while his face bunches up, “No… I’m really sorry. I honestly had to delete them because I was so embarrassed. I never even drink that much!”
He’s rambling, his cheeks going pink when he notices I'm laughing, “Lan. It’s okay. Honestly it was funny.”
This seems to calm him, stepping closer and looking down at me, “I know that we’re not like best friends, or anything… but I did miss you.”
My heart skips a beat, meeting Lando’s icy eyes, “I…”
“Barbecue!” Daniel Riccardo screams as he enters the kitchen. We both spin around to see the man who slaps his arms back down to the side of his body, “Barbecue…?”
⋆。‧˚⋆
Lando and I are spending three days together in Monaco. Wow. Okay. This is happening. This is crazy! What am I even thinking!? I can’t just crash at this guy's place all week! Not to mention he payed for my ticket which was super embarrassing!
Lando insists that it’s fine and that it’ll be great, “Lily and Alex will be here too! Everyone else who lives here as well but you don’t want to hang out with all my friends so I can show you around!” His smile is so bright that I just nod at his words. He’s holding Juna in his arms, he convinced me to fly out with her just because he missed her.
Cat dad.
⋆。‧˚⋆
“Fuck!” I watch Lando fall into the harbor, slapping my hands over my mouth, I let out a muffled scream, “Lando!”
His head pops up with some sort of seaweed on him, He coughs once, climbs out of the water, and laughs, “That’s a first.” Is all he says before pulling his soaking shirt off.
I eye him, “Christ, we’re in public.” He eyes me right back, squeezing the water out with his arms… okay! “Are you okay?” I try to stop laughing but he looks like a wet puppy.
“I’m great!” He frowns, “Just got PUSHED in!” I scoff, clutching my necklace.
“I did no such thing!”
What truly happened was we were messing around, a little tipsy on the night air and how laughably terrible our day has been.
We had gotten turned away from three restaurants, We paid off the paparazzi, I fell on a bike and fucked up my knee, Juna got out and we almost died for a second…
This all led to multiple inside jokes and a feeling of being tied together through ridiculous trauma. When I pretended to push Lando in the water, he actually tripped and fell!
“We’re a mess.” He laughs as he runs his hand through my hair, “Well- I’m a mess!” He looks down at himself.
“Can't argue with that.” his mouth pulls into a smirk, “I think it’s time to go home.”
Lando sighs dramatically, “I think it’s time for ice cream.” He takes my hand in his, his cool skin warming me. He just pulls me in the other direction, I walk with him but my mind is on our intertwined hands.
He brings me to a little gelato place, orders in french and jokes with the owner as if he’s here 24/7.
“I didn’t know you speak french.” I say as we sit outside of the shop, licking my strawberry gelato off the spoon.
He laughs a bit, “I don’t. Just ice cream orders and casual greetings.” I smile at him, he’s in his own hoodie that he let me borrow before we went out. He felt horrible taking it from me but he was literally shivering with his wet shirt on.
I hum along to the song being played by a little band at a bar nearby, Lando smiles at me like he knows something.
“What?” I ask, feeling self conscious now.
He just shuts his mouth, mumbling, “Nothing…”
⋆。‧˚⋆
LANDO NORRIS
She’s beautiful.
Genuinely gorgeous.
I’ve never really felt like this before. I think women are pretty every day, but with Liv… She’s just so stunning that it hurts.
When I fell into the water, I was pissed, but then I got out and she was laughing. She’s got a good laugh, the kind you want to laugh with. So I did, and I haven’t taken my eyes off her since. The moonlight sparkles in her eyes as she looks at me, confused.
I want to kiss her so badly.
It would be perfect, we’re alone, the streets are quiet, that band is strumming a toon. But I can’t tell if she fancies me. She’s here and she’s happy but I’ve never been good at being friends with women.
I don’t want to ruin what we have right now. It’s early still and she has two more days here…
“Lando?” Her sweet voice makes me sit up straighter, “You look freezing.” Her hand slips to my face, her hands are warm and I see the alarm in her face when she feels my cold skin.
I let out a dry laugh, “I am.”
Her hand moves down my arm, to my hand, “Let’s go then. Juna is probably plotting her second escape.” She takes my hand as we stand, not meeting my eyes, and that right there, gives me the tiniest bit of hope.
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ma1dita · 10 months ago
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BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖
🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
luke castellan x reader
a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗
wc: 1.1k
It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.
Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).
It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.
He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.
Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!
You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.
“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”
“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 
Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.
Wrong.
Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.
Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 
He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.
You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.
“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”
Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.
“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.
“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.
“I….like it when you do.”
You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.
You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 
For once they were wrong about love. 
Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.
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