#usually it's TAD let's be honest

[patroclusdefencesquad]

if you see me walking down the street headphones in eyes slightly glazed over don't worry about it i've just entered the vivid fantasy world conjured up by good fucking music

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe loves to put his fingers in sensitive!reader’s mouth & her favorite place in the world is his lap...

c/w: rafe being mean & making her choke on his fingers, heavily suggestive, size kink, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.6k

in love w this man so more of him on the way xx

this is an additional part to this & u can read more here

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Rafe has had a bad day.   

She notices it immediately by the way he greets her with only a brief peck on her cheek; carelessly throwing his jacket on the couch before slumping down against the cushions and letting out a washed-out exhale.   

For the entirety of the week, gloomy clouds have painted over the dusty, colorless horizon and wet water puddles have saturated the socks of passing pedestrians and dog walkers alike. However, Rafe is not someone who particularly minds rainy days, which is why she assumes that the reason for his disgruntled mood has something to do with business, as it more often than not does.    

He scratches at the buzzed hair still slightly damp from the rain while she simply stands there and blinks; unsure whether he wishes to be alone or not.    

“What are you doin’? C’mere,” he suddenly orders in a somewhat of a stern tone and she has no choice but to pad over to his sprawled-out legs, lowering to sit on top of him and letting him paw at her waist as his beefy arms pull her closer. And she can't really complain when the heat of his body seeps into her flesh in such a comforting way; makes her insides feel all fluffy and featherlight.   

In the same way that Rafe seems to enjoy her needing him to take care of her when everything feels like too much, she loves being there for him; likes to feel useful, needed. 

“Do you wanna...talk about it?” the muted melody of her vocal cords reaches his ears as vivid raindrops pitter patter against the glass of the windows and he groans in exhaustion at how perfect she is for him.    

“Not really,” he dismisses her with a shake of his head. “How was your day, hm?”   

“It was uh, okay. I don’t know, the usual. Had some boring lectures, almost fell asleep…questioned every decision I’ve ever made,” she huffs out and settles her palms on his strong biceps.  

“Mm,” he’s only half listening; beginning to mindlessly twirl a strand of her hair around his index finger.    

And she takes that as her cue to continue blabbering out complete nonsense as she begins to grow slightly restless being this close to him. Truth be told, she’s pathetically been missing him the whole day; the only thing granting her the motivation to go about her routines being the thought of seeing him at the end of it all. And now that he’s here, he seems frustrated; mind entirely elsewhere and she doesn’t know what to do except ramble on and on about her dull day.    

Then, completely out of the blue, he’s grabbing her jaw into his massive hand and hushing her.   

“Shut up for one second, yeah?” he mutters out before he’s tucking a thumb past her lips; a surprised squeak leaving the back of her throat at the sudden intrusion because he was the one who asked for her to talk in the first place.    

However, she can’t exactly say that it’s unexpected. He often gets a tad bit meaner whenever he’s had a dreary workday and takes it out on her in some form or another. And regardless of how unhealthy all of it might seem, there’s a crooked part of her brain that yearns for it; wants him to come to her whenever he’s upset. If she’s utterly honest, the thought of him searching for solace in anyone else makes nausea creep up her bones.   

For some reason, the firm pad of his thumb making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth placates her; turns her brain into a needy, dingy muddle in a way that only Rafe is capable of.   

“Shit, just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?” he pushes down on her tongue, making her swallow around the digit with a whimper.    

“So fuckin’ pathetic sometimes, you know? Just take anythin’ daddy gives you,” a low-pitched chuckle thunders from his chest, seemingly amused by the ease in which she gives into him.    

However, there’s also something gooey, syrupy beginning to whirl in the pit of her tummy. It reminds her of the countless times she was perched on the park swing as a little girl during the balmy summers of her childhood; thinking she could reach the fluffy clouds with the tips of her sneakers if only she could fly a little higher.    

“Feels nice to have somethin’ in your mouth, doesn’t it?” he ogles her, mesmerized with intrigue twinkling in the Carolina blue that has always made her think of the sky.    

She lets out a faint moan when he drags the digit out and then back in, making her gag around it; her hips involuntarily rutting against the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his pants, desperate for some sort of friction if even through the soft material of her sweatpants.    

“Didn’t give you permission to move, did I?” he feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows that gets her to reluctantly halt her shifting.    

“Daddy, need your...” her words are cushioned against the obstacle he’s planted between her teeth.  

“Can’t really hear you, baby,” he mocks before he’s pulling the thumb out of her mouth altogether.    

However, the next thing she knows, he’s stuffing in his index and middle finger both at the same time. They reach far deeper; a muffled sound of gagging following his actions as he seems to discover a perverted sense of satisfaction from her struggle.   

"What did you say?" his lips twist into a cruel smirk when she whimpers pitifully and tries to draw away from him in order to catch her breath but his other hand only grips her jaw tighter, keeping her exactly where he wants as she’s forced to breathe through her nose.    

“I think you can take it for a bit longer, yeah?” his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he simply stares, seemingly absorbed into the obscene scene before him.    

And she should feel embarrassed, demeaned even. And she does! However, the humiliation of letting him do whatever he wants as if she’s nothing but a cheap toy for his entertainment blurs over the lines when her cunt throbs in response to his degrading attention. She flutters uselessly around nothing; powerlessly begging for some sort of alleviation with a whine that merely earns her a tut of his tongue.    

Therefore, the only thing she can do is sit there like an obedient animal because he’s already scolded her once. She hasn’t turned entirely dumb just yet; knows firsthand how ‘daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself’ and that the next time she misbehaves will result in a punishment her poor cunt probably wouldn’t be able to handle in this helpless state of hers.   

“Don't think you could take dad’s cock even halfway in this pretty mouth,” he mindlessly croons, thumb smoothing over the skin of her throat as she swallows the spit beginning to dribble down her chin.    

The thought manages to pique her curiosity because his cock has been at the forefront of her mind for a couple of weeks now, due to him constantly teasing her with the notion of letting her suck him off properly. He keeps murmuring about training her throat and fucking it raw but never actually doing it; merely allowing for her to drool and mouth over the tip because apparently, she's 'not ready yet'.    

She’s beginning to turn into something desperate because whenever she tries to take more of him into her mouth, he stops her with a click of his tongue and big hands lifting her head off him. “Don’t be greedy now, sweetheart,” he’d scold her but she's certain she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to feel his cock nudge at the back of her throat soon.    

“Ray…” she tries to fruitlessly speak but he’s not exactly making it easy as he keeps stroking against her tongue. However, she doesn’t need to say anything. He knows what she wants.  

“I mean, can barely fit into this tight cunt, don’t know why you keep whinin’ about wantin’ me in this mouth so bad. Don’t think you’d even enjoy it that much. It’s a lot, you know?” there’s something almost patronizing in the way he’s speaking to her as if he’s not the one who brought the idea up in the first place.   

It’s like he’s trying to talk her out of it yet his fingertips keep prodding past her gag reflex every few minutes, almost as if testing the waters before plunging in and it’s making her head spin.    

She whines and tries to defend herself but the digits fussing with the inside of her slobbery mouth don’t allow for her to form anything audible as she begins to grow troubled.   

“What was that?” the line of his mouth curls when he pokes deeper once more, causing her to moan with watery eyes pleading him for anything at this point.    

“Such a dirty girl. Bet you’d like choking on my cock, huh?” he grunts and she hums in response; nodding fervently before he’s finally withdrawing his hand and smearing the spit-stained fingers against her pouty lips.   

They’re both panting heavily as he gently swipes at her under-eyes in order to catch the teardrops ready to trickle down before petting at the apples of her cheeks with a tenderness reserved only for her.  

“Shit, always know how to make me feel better, don’t ya?” he rumbles fondly against her mouth; following his saccharine words with a messy kiss soon after. Maybe he’ll finally allow her to have what she so badly craves. 

[evesbookshop]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ⇩⇩⇩

“𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 😋 𝐩𝐥𝐬"

𝐁𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

𝐅𝐭: 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Izuku calls you a lot. He calls you a lot when he’s in the country, he calls you while he does your laundry or while hes on patrol. He’s had you on the phone while arresting some low level thief after they’d robbed a convenience store, he got in trouble for that one. But he called a lot, so it was no surprise that he called just as much if not more while out of the country, if not more.

 So receiving calls from him was normal, receiving calls from him at one am on a wednesday while out of the country though, less normal. So while you were mostly just confused and half asleep, a part of you was worried as you pressed answer. 

“Izuku? You okay, it’s so late?” You asked groggily. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you leaned over to flick on your lamp, phone still pressed to your ear. “What’s goin on?”

“I’m okay honey, I’m sorry I didn't mean to worry you. Were you asleep?” Izuku knew full well that you were asleep. He was in India right now, a country three-ish hours behind japan. He'd done the math, he knew damn well it was one am and therefore passed you designated bedtime. But he’d been painfully hard for the last thirty minutes and his hand hadn’t gotten him anywhere, he needed you. Or at least your voice.

“No it’s okay, what's up?” You continued to question him, you really didn’t mind that’d he'd called it was just odd for him to do so this late.

“I- uh- I just missed your voice” Not a full lie. “Was just hoping to talk, hear about your day?” It was a lame excuse for a man calling at one am but he wasn’t willing to admit why he really called yet.

“Oh okay, sure.” You were a tad suspicious, but Izuku called, it was what he did. “Um probably wasn’t as exciting as yours but uh let's see. Went shopping, for groceries not myself. You’d be surprised how much cheaper it is when I’m not feeding a human vacuum.” You began rambling on about your day. Going through what you did, how you couldn't find certain items, how you couldn’t reach certain shelves without him 

Usually the sentiments would be nice, he’d laugh at your struggles or coo at how you needed him. Right now he was wrapping his hand around his base while imagining your voice saying other things. The way you sounded the last time he’d been inside you.

‘Right there Izuku’  “You feel so good”   “Harder Zu”   “Faster”   “Fuck Zu”  “Izuku, Izuku”

And paired with your voice in the background, even if you were currently talking about how you didn't know what color to paint your nails at the salon today, was all the more helpful. Ia Clearly.

“Nngh, fuck” A moan managed to escape his lips as his pace had gotten faster.

“Izuku?” You stopped mid sentence, having heard his slip up.A noise you were all too familiar with echoing through the speaker of your phone. “Are you..?”

“Yes, yeah. I’m sorry honey, I’m so sorry i just fuck-” Izuku was burning with embarrassment but honest none of that mattered right now.  “Just missed you so much and I couldn’t help myself. Tried to do it alone but I just couldn’t” He explained pathetically. Letting go of his throbbing cock and throwing his head back into his pillow with a huff.  

“Oh Zu..” You sighed slightly amused, “why didn't you say anything, I woulda helped you out.”

“I-I don’t know just please?” Izuku pleaded without remorse, he was aching for you and if you were offering he certainly wasn’t one to deny.You grinned lazily to yourself, despite his very clear distress it was flattering to know your boyfriend couldn’t come without you. 

“I got you , I got you.” You spoke softly into the the speaker, “Tell me what you were thinkin about before you called.” 

“The way you sounded.” He said simply, hand coming back to his dick, “ From before i left, how you were u-underneathe me.”

“Oh i remember,” it was an ongoing tradition to go at it like dogs in heat before he went on long missions. He’d had you in every position you could think of that night, on your back was where he finished though. He liked being able to watch your face. “Mmm that was so good. The way you had my leg on your shoulder, swear I could feel you in my stomach. Tats what you’re thinkin about, hmm?”

“Mm yeah” He moaned softly into the phone, “wasn’t enough though I couldn't”. You hummed in faux contemplation into the speaker 

“Well that just won't do, will it baby?” His sounds of affirmation rang through loud and clear, “That's right. So just listen to me then. I know you already started so just slow down for me.” Izuku groaned softly but did as told, sure to voice his complaint.

“Please don’t tease, honey.” Voice tight with arousal as his fist moved slowly up and down his length.

“I’m not, promise. You remember how I do it, don't you. I always start slow, do it how I would.” 

At that he sighs, imagining it’s your hand instead of his. Stroking at the tempo you would, thumb swiping over his tip gently the way your smaller one would. In a way that had him shuddering with a moan of your name.

“There we go, feels good when you imagine it’s me hm?”

“Yes, feels-feels so fucking good, Sweetheart.” Izuku’s voice took on a rasp it didn’t usually hold.

“I know, cause it’s what I do when I miss you.” His ears perked at that slight, you imagined him? Izuku moaned at the thought, at the metal image of you moaning his name as you touched yourself.

“You do?”

“Every single time, your hands are so much bigger than mine though, don’t feel as full.” He let out a loud groan and call of your name.

“Shitt baby, i need more.” Izuku begged lightly, aching to come.

“Speed up for me then, Zu. You know how I do it. Massage your balls with your other hand, the way we both know you like.”  He nodded dumbly like you could see him. Other hand reaching down to cup his manhood, fondling them as he rubbed is length at a rapid pace. Doing both the way you would the days he'd come home pent up but too tired to do anything. Groaning and moaning your name as he did so. Abs tightening as he could feel his orgasm beginning to approach. “You’re doing so good for me Izuku, being such a good boy.”

“Oh fuck” his eyes screwed shut as the grip he had on his member tightened, “ ‘M gonna come for you, Sweetheart. Please, let me- fuck!”

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for me, you deserve it. Did so good not come for me Zu.” And he did. Izuku balls clenched as he grit his teeth in an attempt to muffle the long moan he let out as he came. Cock twitching in his hands as he pumped it raw, finishing all over his stomach and chest. Riding his high out until it hurt to keep going. Letting his already softening dick lay against his pelvis.

“Oh thank you, honey. Thank you, thank you.” He mumbled dazed and out of breathe. 

“You're welcome, Izuku.” you smiled drowsy. Placing the phone on speaker and on your nightstand to charge. ��Now go to bed. I’ll stay on the phone. “

“Okay,” He murmured. Grabbing a tissue to wipe himself clean half hazrdly before tucking himself back into his briefs and rolling ono his stomach. Placinghis phone on the pillow beside him. “Night Sweetheart. Love you”

“Night, Izuku. I love you too.”

✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ❤︎︎

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ❣︎

[kitsuneplushie]

locked onto you⭑.ᐟ

what happens when your outfit is just a tad bit revealing?・suggestive content below! everything is mostly implied, sorry i'm too nervous to write actual smut. minors please don’t interact!!

˙ . ꒷ 🤍. 𖦹˙— a/n: sorry if this is a bit ooc, i haven’t written anything in so long that the original concept of this (it was supposed to be like revealing halloween costume) long passed AND this paragraph has been rewritten thrice. i struggled with these so bad if i’m honest bc i wrote half of it while being half asleep and my notes were sOOO BAD. i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i love you all mwah

any pov but mentions of reader in a dress・not proofread

⌗ rafayel ⭑.ᐟ

“did my bodyguard get flushed down the drain or something? what’s taking you so long?” rafayel whined, shaking the doorknob impatiently. you brushed him off, regretfully staring at the mirror. the model in the ad wasn’t this exposed… right? you sighed, running your hands down your outfit, in hopes that you could make it just cover a bit more of you. “hellooo?” he continued to pout.

“okay okay.. stop your whining! i’m coming out.” you replied defeated. there was nothing more you could do. you had to face him, you were nearly running out of time. you slowly slipped out of the bathroom, meeting rafayel’s gaze. you both stayed silent, staring at each other. his ears and parts of his face shifted into a bright red hue. "weren’t you just in a hurry to go? why are you just standing here?" you teased, crossing your arms.

"well, maybe can just skip-"

"you're seriously not suggesting we cancel last minute, right?" you interrupted. “especially since this exhibition is for you specifically. you can’t just cancel! it’d look bad on both of our parts.” you continued lecturing him. you ushered him along.

on the way to the party, you noticed how handsy he was with you. especially when the driver tried to make conversation with you. rafayel pouted, leaning against you. his fingers brushed against your thighs at the very moment you arrived at the venue. you gave him a glance as you got out. he wasn’t this open with pda usually. there was something… off.

thomas catches you two up on the exhibition. as he does, rafayel is absolutely not listening. his attention is on a strand of your hair. he gently toys with it. you smile and nod in response to thomas, ushering rafayel along. “hey. earth to rafayel? c’mon you need to focus on. potential clients can approach at any moment!” you whispered to him. he deeply sighed before pouting at you. you opened your mouth to lecture him more but before you got a world out… people started approaching.

one person became two. two people became five. and so on. “mhm. oh! actually, i have to meet with my manager for a moment. excuse me. miss bodyguard? will you escort me?” rafayel quickly smiled. you squinted your eyes at him for a moment before accepting. wasn’t like you had a choice. rafayel led the way, taking you to an empty part of the venue. it was separated from rafayel’s exhibit. he sat down on a bench, letting out a soft sigh. you stood in front of him, crossing your arms.

“rafayel, what are we-“

he pulled you closer to him. he leaned his head against your stomach, looking up at you. you felt your face start to flush. “i just want a moment alone with you. you’re too distracting in that dress.” you’re head started to buzzed from the compliment. not to mention how close he was. you felt his hands rest on your lower back as he continued to lean against you.

“we really should get going..” you uttered, placing a hand on his arm. you know you should push him away, but you couldn’t find the strength in you. he whined.

“please?” he asked. “it’s hard to focus. help me…” he pouted. he leaned back on the bench, inviting you to sit on his lap. you ran your hand through your hair as you looked down at him. as much as you should’ve just said no. you gave in, sitting on his lap.

“you’re lucky you’re so alluring, idiot.” you whispered, kissing his neck. “now be a good boy and stay quiet.”

⌗ sylus ⭑.ᐟ

“didn’t take you for being someone who likes to be fashionably late.” sylus said from outside the door. “i think we want to get there when there’s still a party going on kitten.”

you rolled your eyes at his remark. ‘why would they throw a party at such late notice. especially with a dress code.’ you silently cry to yourself. you’ve been dressed for a bit actually. it’s just… this dress is way more revealing than you could of thought. is this just normal for the N109 zone? you let out a deep breath. this was your only choice.

“easy for you to say! you really expect me to show up like this?” you whined, swinging the door open. you look up to see sylus. his gaze was completely on you, his eyes looked you up and down.

“hm.” he replied moving closer, inspecting your outfit. he stayed silent still, walking around you. goosebumps spilled throughout your body as you felt his gaze fixated on you. "on second thought. stay here a moment." he finally stated, walking back out of the room. you let out a deep breath, as you walked back towards his bed. you patiently waiting for him to return. you expected him to be gone only a few minutes. but he sure was taking his time. right after he teased you about it. you roll your eyes and head out to find him.

you walked downstairs, seeing him talking with luke and kieran. they both peered their head over sylus. to glance over at you. they both slightly tilted their heads before focusing on sylus. "i take it that you two understand?" he asked. they both nod and quickly head off. "you as well mephisto." the crow cawed in response, stretching out it's wings. it flew in the direction of the pair, quickly catching up.

"now who's fashionably late? didn't you want to leave while there's still a party?" you teased, walking down towards him. sylus chuckled, turning around to meet you. "i thought you were going to get me a different dress."

"don't worry about it kitten."

"you really think i should go out like this? i... don't know. i think i'd draw too much attention and-"

"you're really stressed about this, huh?" he asked, tracing the strap with his finger. before you could reply, he started walking up the stairs. he looked at you, and tilted his head upstairs. you sighed and followed him. you didn't know what he had planned but was there even an other option. as soon as you reached his room again, his hands returned on you. "you look gorgeous in the dress though. i don't know how i'd feel having anyone else see you like this." he rested his face in the crook of your neck, facing you towards a mirror. his lips soft brushed against your neck.

"sylus... i can't." you mustered, dodging your reflection. "this information is very crucial. i can't afford to miss getting it."

"i know, i know." he softly replied. he brushed a stray hair from your face. his other hand softly grabbing on your hips. "i sent luke and kieran in our place, along side mephisto." he placed another kiss on your upper neck.

"sy..." you uttered, pulling away slightly. you gave him an concerned look. "we should've-"

"do you trust me?" he asked, leaning closer towards you. your breathing hitched, as you bit your lip. you slowly nod. your eyes locked with his. "i can assure you they'll get all the information you need and more." sylus pauses for a moment, tracing his hand down your jaw. "will you allow me to be selfish, just this once? it's hard to resist when you look this stunning." he tilts your head, showcasing your neck to his lips. he effortlessly leads you back to the bed, gently sitting you down. his kisses gently trail down. your eyes flutter, catching a glimpse of his hand greedily wrapping around your thigh. "lay back, i'll make it all up to you kitten."

⌗ zayne⭑.ᐟ

your doorbell chimes as you fidget with your hair, trying to make sure you look your best. "i'll be right there!" you called out. you looked over at the mirror once more, double checking yourself and your outfit. you sigh and quickly grab your things. you couldn't tell if you were underdressed or overdressed. however you didn't want to keep zayne waiting. you open the door, giving zayne a soft smile as he glances over you. "i hope i'm adequately dressed.." you nervously let out, stepping out of your apartment.

"you look beautiful, no need to worry." zayne reassured, ushering you to the elevator. "besides. it's just a little holiday dinner party that akso throws." his words comforted you, until you actually arrived to the party.

"i thought you said this was a small party? why would we need a venue of this size?" you uttered, as the two of you were ushered in. you were assigned to sit along with other employees in the cardiology department.

"we wouldn't be able to have room for all the departments if it was any smaller. and they have a live band during dinner." he uttered. a chill ran down your body as you felt him lean towards you. he placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowds. he stopped once he found a group of some of his fellow collegues. he introduced you to a few of them who weren't familiar to you. before talking about various topics. you mostly listened, but contibuted here and there.

“ah! doctor zayne! can i steal you for a moment, i need a bit assistance with setting up the other tables for the dining room.” a waiter asked, halting in front of us. zayne gracefully accepted, leaving you with his fellow colleagues. you left them be in their own conversations while you people watched. you sipped on the champagne they were handing out, just being in your own world.

“do my eyes deceive me? is that you miss? it’s an honor to finally meet you!” you turned around, seeing a complete stranger in front of you. you looked behind you to see if you were mistaken but he was talking to you. he smiles as he approaches you closer.

“and you are?”

“i’m sorry, i forgot that this is our first time meeting. excuse my poor manners.” he chuckled. he introduced himself and his position at the hospital. “you’re quite the talk of the town. you’ve saved plenty of our patients. we can’t thank you enough.”

“oh. it’s nothing. just my job.” you smile politely. you felt your nerves rise. you didn’t anticipate this type of interaction. he continued to praise you and get closer. his hand reached for your arm as he invited you for a drink.

“she already has plans for tonight.” a voice sternly spoke from behind you. zayne pulled you closer to him, leaving the man’s hand still in the air. “excuse us.” he glared, walking pass the man. you just looked at him with wide eyes.

“wait… zayne? the party? why are we heading to the car?” you asked, turning your head back. he showed no sigh of stopping, dead set on his objective.

“we made an appearance. that’s satisfactory enough.” he uttered. “it wasn’t mandatory anyway. we were just being polite.” zayne’s attitude usually wasn’t this stormy. it was hard to read him, but it was clear that something was pestering him. you stayed silent until you reached the car.

“hey, did something happen when-“

“no. i just didn’t like the way he was looking at you. i should’ve stayed with you.” zayne interrupted, looking at you. again, your eyes widened. he was never like this. “ah… i apologize. i don’t know what came over me.” you turn your body so you could face him.

“were you jealous?” you softly smirked, leaning towards him. you cupped his face. “it was pretty attractive…” zayne raised his eyebrow. he placed his hand on your seat, causing you to lean back into your seat. he was practically towering over you now.

“was it now? did you enjoy it?” he smiled, sliding his hand down to your thigh. “because i have no intention of sharing you, sweetheart.” you breath deepened as you felt him lean against you. he quickly pulled the leaver of your seat, pushing it all the way down. he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips, purposely missing. you whined, grabbing on his tie. “should i make sure every man knows you’re already mine?” he asked, whispering into your ear. you continuously nodded as his hand slowly made way to your hips.

⌗ xavier⭑.ᐟ

you glanced over at the mirror. you nervously tried adjusting your outfit. was this too much for an casual job party? you really couldn’t tell. you did yet another glance in the mirror before your doorbell rang. you let out a breath before heading to your front door. you opened it to see xavier. “oh! look who’s finally back!” you smiled, opening the door enough to let him in. he slowly walked inside, taking in your appearance.

“are you heading somewhere?” he asked, ignoring your statement. he leaned against the arm of your couch, with his full attention on you. your heart raced as you ran your finger along the edge of your dress.

“unicorns wanted to throw a small office party.” you replied, walking a bit closer. your face started feeling warm. you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or being flustered by xavier. “it’s a bit much, huh? the outfit? you know maybe i should change into something else.”

before you could step a single step, xavier pulled you into his arms. “you’re thinking too hard. you look lovely.” he replied, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. his arms rested around your waist. you stayed silent for a moment, indulging in the moment.

“xavier, i need to finish getting ready.” you softly say, slowly pushing his arms off. he readjusted his arms, resuming his grip.

“stay with me, for a moment. you have time right? i missed you.”

you let out a hum, as your thumb swept across his arm. you could spare a moment, surely. “fine, just a moment. but can we sit at least? standing here isn’t-“

with that xavier basically swung the two of you onto the couch. he cuddled against you, once again nuzzling into your neck. “was that really necessary?” you giggle, placing your phone onto the coffee table. xavier mumbled in response, placing a kiss on your neck. your body melted with a simple kiss. you slightly move away from xavier, now turning to face him. you cup his face with your hand, brushing your thumb along his cheek. he followed it up with a kiss, pulling you in. you deepened the kiss, feeling his hand grip your thigh. his hand trailed up to your hip.

“mm.. xavier.” you uttered, pulling away. “i got too ahead of myself. i really need to get ready now.” as you were about to get up, your phone rang. you swung your hand over, quickly grabbing it. “hello?”

“did you forget about your best friend tara?” a voice says over the line. “you’re still coming right? you weren’t answering my messages so i thought to call and check up.”

xavier slightly pouted, seeing your attention diverge from him. he pulled you closer, slowly placing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. you mouth at him to stop, your mind buzzing at the feel. he looked at you deviously, moving his hand to your lower back. now pressing himself against you. you let out a gasp, gripping your phone.

“are you okay?”

“oh. tara. i… i’m fine. i just.” you pause, trying to compose yourself. xaiver softly nips at your neck, really testing your ability to be quiet. “i just feel a bit u-under the weather. i’m sorry.”

“oh no! please get some rest! i hope you feel better soon! i’ll send some soup on your way.”

“ah… yes. i’ll see you.” you quickly replied, hanging up. you attempt to place your phone back on the table but completely miss. it didn’t matter, you mind was occupied on something completely different. “you’re such a little devil, you know that?” you gasp, raising your leg over his hip. he doesn’t even respond but goes in for another kiss, while holding onto the bottom of your thigh.

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere Male Butcher X G/N Teacher Reader

Trigger warnings! Yandere behaviour, Violence, Someone tries to touch the reader, a tad of stalking socials,This is all fictional! I don't condone toxic behaviour!

Now what a bizarre pairing, I feel like I should give some context lmao. Now shall we indulge in this fantasy?

🫀Yandere Butcher who divorced his ex wife two years before meeting you, After the divorce it was just Him and his son.

🫀I cannot explain why but Yandere Butcher's son is very alternative. Which there's nothing wrong with that! But wearing studded bracelets and battle jackets (I've also seen the called battle vests so if one is more commonly used let me know -Jay) into school meant Yandere Butcher gets called a lot.

🫀Yandere Butcher who was expecting the same old moody tutor not you...

🫀Yandere Butcher who is massive, I'm talking 6'4, Covered in tattoos from his early adulthood and a man bun that a hair tie is clinging to dear life keep up. That makes it very intimidating for you to explain the issues.

"Erm...Mr-" you start but Yandere Butcher cuts you off. "Listen cut the official stuff call me Isaiah,yeah? I'm getting called here more times then I'm selling turkey's at Christmas. What did he wear this time? The 'kill all cops' top? Or that bloody devil necklace?" You're a bit surprised. His thick southern accent was attractive if you allowed yourself to be honest for a second.

"It was just a bit of eyeliner. I'm going to be honest from the other teachers experiences it's not that bad but I have to report it." You say craning your neck up to look up at him. "I'm not trying to be rude but... couldn't you of just called, emailed even?" He said fixing his posture. "If it was just that then yes. I erm... wanted to ask about you. If that's okay?"

🫀Yandere Butcher who was stunned.

"About me?" He tilts his head. "I'm aware you're a single parent, I'm not judging! I was just wondering if you needed any extra support?"

🫀 Yandere Butcher was even more stunned! You cared? Nobody really cared that much about him. He was just Isaiah, the grumpy butcher, the divorce dad or the guy you wanted on your team on quiz night at the pub. Everyone assumed he was fine, that he was a 'real man'.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Yandere Butcher who had to wait till he was in his truck to allow himself to smile

🫀 Yandere Butcher who dug up anything and everything he could about you online. Yandere Butcher that was ecstatic when he found out you were single.

🫀 Yandere Butcher who made his kid work at the butchers at the weekend if he misbehaved in your class. His son never saw him care so much about anyone like the apart from him and his mother. (an till she was found in another man's bed)

🫀 Yandere Butcher who was at the pub on Friday night while his son was at a sleepover. Beer in hand, he talked to the locals about nothing and everything. He would never admit it but it was always a highlight of his week.

🫀Yandere Butcher who almost chocked when he saw you come into the pub. You were in casual clothes with a few friends and you looked utterly adorable to him.

🫀Yandere Butcher who clocked and grabbed some random guys hand before he could try and touch you. The stranger got kicked out for his actions and the locals asked if you were okay.

🫀Yandere Butcher who was surprised when you hugged him. "Thank you!" You cheered, a faint smell of alcohol was on your breath.

🫀Yandere Butcher who let you sleep on his couch that night. He sat on a chair near by and watched you sleep. You figure raising and falling,you were so fragile, so sweet.

🫀 Yandere Butcher who is way more aware of plant based diets then people would give him credit for so made you a fruit salad for breakfast. Strawberries, blueberries and more fruits as sweet as you.

You were so embarrassed. "Please forgive me,I promise I usually don't drink so much." You say pushing the fruit around your bowl. " Don't worry you were stressed that night." He said crouching down to your level, you noticed his eye bugs. "I didn't keep you up ,did I?" You say with a pouty lip. "What? No, I never sleep when my kids are doing god knows what at a sleepover. You've seen how they are in school, imagine what they do when they don't have you to keep them in line." He said while putting a hand on your shoulder. You smile a little a faint blush on your checks.

What you didn't know is as you slept Yandere Butcher shoved that pig who tried to touch you in his massive meat freezer that was getting cleaned. "You wanna act like a pig? I'll fucking cut you like one" by the time he visited the freezer again, he needed a black bag, saw and some bleach. He wasn't worried about getting caught because his most important people where at school. His little troublemaker being taught by his angel.

Two Fics in one day!? The world's gone mad! Lmao I hope posting twice doesn't ruin any engagement because I'm quite proud of this one. I must admit my art blocks been quite bad so if anyone wants me to attempt to draw my oc's please vote!

[yandereend]

Yandere Househusband

How he met his spouse

TW: usual yandere stuff, male yandere, obsessive behavior, yandere wants children

Please keep in mind that English is not my native language thanks💛

P. 1 please let me know if you want more

P.2💛

Doesn’t everyone just hope to one day find the perfect partner and settle down with them, start a family and live happily ever after. Thats exactly what our little Tyler always wanted.

Tyler came from a nice home, he was an only child but his parents had a lot of love for him, and even more for each other. He always admired his parents relationship, his father being the strong breadwinner and his mother being the docile housewife. It was the perfect relationship in Tylers eyes and there was nothing he wanted more than to have that too.

In school Tyler couldn’t care less about his grades, it’s not like he was incapable of learning, quite the opposite but he didn’t see a reason to spend his time learning about math or physics if he wanted to be a househusband anyways. Thats right my dear readers Tyler was just waiting to find the right spouse to settle down with.

So for that reason alone he always made an effort to appear put together and pretty in school, he was lucky to have enough confidence to not let others opinions about his appearance affect him. So he was always helpful, nice and friendly to everyone. But even with his best efforts he couldn’t find the one. Thanks to his obsessive nature he often over thought his love life and if he will end up alone. (Your in 10th grade chill dude)

All that until the greatest day of his life were he met you. You were the new student and he immediately volunteered to show you around, became your partner in assignments and your new best friend.

To be honest you were smitten by Tyler, nobody gave you that much attention before and it wasn’t long before the schools pretty boy was your boyfriend. Tyler was thrilled that everyone in the school knew that you were his and he yours. And oh dear how Tyler admired you, you were so attractive, strong, smart and capable. He was so excited to finally settle down (dudes only 17), after graduation.

And Tyler always wanted to impress you, he would join his mother while cooking making sure to pack your lunch, clean your room while he visited you and even did your laundry. Wait didn’t you have more underwear?

And in exchange he just wanted to be pampered back. He would give you his bag if it was heavy, would depend on you for homework and always expected you to stand up to the jocks when they made fun of his more feminine clothes.

And oh did I mention that Tyler was a little bit manipulative, just a tad bit but I mean why would you need friends, you can go shopping with Tyler. Your family goes on vacation? Ditch them and go with Tylers family instead, they have the money don’t worry. You should also consider his parents, they were so supportive of him and you, his dad even showed you the family business if you wanna inherit it.

So when your graduation day finally came you and Tyler hosted a party together, and after you had a few drinks Tyler dropped on his knee and asked the big question, to which you in your tipsy state happily agreed.

So don’t be surprised when 2 months later Tylers parents bought you two a house (yes they’re that rich), your Tylers dads new intern and your lovely fiancé plans the most romantic wedding ever. And hey, there’s no escaping now darling.

Thanks for reading please let me know if you enjoyed it 💛

[suntoru]

─ ✰ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

— synopsis: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, the popular guy in your class, chooses to sit next to you, of all people. you've fallen head over heels, what happens next?

— warnings: highschool au! angst, fluff in the beginning, will not be writing a part 2, swearing, gaslighting, betrayal, just a bet troupe, gojo being a dick or everybody generally, 3.4k words!

— a/n: not my proudest work to be honest :( also tried another formatting lmk if u liked it! comments and reblogs r very much appreciated i will love u forever

"yo. can i sit here?" gojo satoru grins, effortlessly sliding into the empty seat next to you and making himself at home.

...huh? isn't that the popular guy who's usually surrounded by his friends? he's constantly the subject of admiration among the girls in your class, eliciting swoons and whispers of infatuation wherever he goes. confusion creeps in as you wonder why he didn't choose the empty seat next to suguru. there's no conceivable reason for someone like gojo, popular and charismatic, to opt for the seat beside you. you feel a sense of self-consciousness settling in.

nevertheless, you nod softly, though you're well aware the question was more of a rhetorical one. he's fashionably late, by twenty minutes, to be precise, unabashedly ignoring the scolding glares from your teacher about punctuality. instead, he buries himself in the deep blue plastic seat, sticking his tongue out when the teacher turns his back, letting out a huffy pout from the lecture.

nervously, you glance up from your notebook, cautiously stealing a peek at your new desk buddy. he's pretty─ real pretty, snowy white lashes adorning his pretty cerulean spheres, dainty fingers idly spinning a pencil out of sheer boredom. and as if kissed by the blush of a gentle sunrise, his lips possess a natural rosy hue, smooth and plump, belong to him like a delicate work of art. you wonder just how many kisses they've stolen. caught in a moment of admiration, you find yourself staring a tad longer than socially acceptable.

his eyes flicker, locking onto yours, and the realization hits you—oh, he caught you staring. shit. immediately, you break eye contact as you cough awkwardly. you swiftly attempt to play it off, pretending as if you were engrossed in examining the intricate texture of your silver-grey desk instead. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you hope he hasn't interpreted your lingering gaze as anything more than idle curiosity.

...should you say something? try to deny you were very clearly eye fucking him? he probably thinks you're a freak now. perhaps he sat next to you out of pity, and now he regrets it. out of sheer embarrassment, the words die in your mouth before they could ever leave, keeping your gaze glued to the floor as you refuse to acknowledge that his presence ever existed.

however, it appears that gojo won't let you suffer the embarrassment in peace. when your stern teacher turns away, he subtly slides a ripped edge of his blue-lined paper towards you, bearing a simple 'hi :)'. he's attempting a conversation, a surprising but welcome distraction from the awkwardness of being caught staring. an opportunity to salvage a bit of your dignity. now, the challenge lies in crafting a response that strikes the right balance.

would 'hey' sound too dry? but 'heyyyy' makes it seem like you're a little too interested. you opt for a casual 'heyy' with your black pen, scribbling the reply with extra caution to avoid prying eyes. as soon as the teacher is out of view, you subtly slip the note back to gojo. his lips curl into a slight smile upon reading your response.

two minutes pass by before you get a response. 'do you get this lesson? i'm soo lost..' accompanied by a small doodle of a crying suguru. you can't help but stifle a giggle; the drawing is poorly done, yet undeniably cute. the teacher swiftly turns around at the sound, prompting both of you to scramble and make it look like you're diligently focused on the lesson. the suspicious gaze lingers for a moment before the teacher returns to the whiteboard.

'maybe it's cause you missed like, half of the lesson.' you write back. he rolls his eyes playfully upon reading your retort, swiftly countering with a pout. "it's not my fault this class is so boring.'

'who said philosophy was supposed to be fun?' you reply. in response, gojo eagerly accepts the note, maintaining the subtle exchange of eye contact. 'hey, be nice to mr. aristotle, he's a great guy :(' he sends back. and thirty minutes seem to pass in the blink of an eye.

the bell chimes, signaling the end of the philosophy session and the need to transition to your next course. reluctantly, you stow your textbook in your bag, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this amusing interaction might have been a one-time occurrence.

it's been a while since you've genuinely laughed. so when his ocean blue eyes latch onto yours with a genuine sense of hope, you quickly fold when he asks you if you're interested in sitting with him again tomorrow.

in those thirty short minutes, you learn three things about gojo satoru. firstly, you realize you've sorely misjudged him. he's not just another nepo-baby cheating his way through school; he's actually quite smart, smarter than he lets on. he's especially good in biochemistry, and he promises to help you study next time.

secondly, you discover that he loves sweets, just as you do. you both agree that kikufuku mochi is better than strawberry dango, and he even tells you about his favorite shop. maybe you can go together sometime.

and thirdly, he doesn't tell you this outright, but you learn that gojo is insecure. what strikes you the most is the glimpse of uncertainty you catch beneath his confident exterior. it's not about his looks or intelligence, but it's actually about his relationship with suguru. he's afraid to lose him, a fear that seems to drive him more than anything else. he overcompensates for his self-doubt. but you find that his flaws make him all the more pretty.

it's peculiar, the speed at which gojo somehow effortlessly integrates into your daily life. how he's feeling is how you're feeling, which is usually reflected on his friendship with suguru. if they had a fight, he'd be sad, and if everything was alright, he was too. but either way was okay with you, you just want to be there for him. what was once a dreaded fourth period now stands as the radiant highlight of your entire day.

despite the limited instances of verbal communication —perhaps a mere once or twice— the inexplicable truth remains: you've fallen head over heels for him. the simple act of passing notes with satoru becomes more than a routine; it evolves into the sole force that awakens you in the morning, the singular thought that propels you forward and keeps you going throughout the day.

and just maybe, the hopeless romantic within you fervently clings to the belief that his sentiments go beyond mere friendship. his actions seem to carry an extra layer of care, an attentiveness that extends beyond your platonic friendship. he notices the little things that escape the notice of others. it wasn't lost on him when you shed tears the other night due to the weight of stress; he went out of his way to procure your favorite candy bar, a sweet gesture aimed at brightening your spirits.

he took notice of your new haircut, expressing in a note that it frames your face nicely. he had comforted you when a classmate aimed a subtle insult your way, he wrote that the words of someone whose foundation didn't match their face shouldn't hold much weight. he even made an effort to be punctual for class, all to engage in the shared exchange of silly notes with you. and honestly, even if he didn't like you back, you'd be fine.

because your heart swells with gratefulness at the fact that he chose to sit with you. he wanted to be your friend even when nobody else did. you trusted and loved him with your whole heart, because that's what you believed he deserved.

so imagine your surprise when you overhear his conversation with suguru that day.

"just a day more, then you win the bet." geto groans, tossing his head back in exasperation. the two of them linger in the now-empty classroom, the echoes of other students long gone.

"yep, twenty four hours, then you owe me three hundred dollars." satoru sings, playfully nudging his best friend's shoulder. he's all sunshine and smiles, swinging his feet from the desk he's currently sitting on.

"and it wasn't even that hard. i just had to get 'em to fall for me." suguru rolls his eyes. "dude, if i was you, i would've tapped out the first week. how'd you manage to do it?" he huffs, clearly annoyed at the impending financial loss.

satoru mischievously grins. "just used my charm." he fluffs his hair with a smug expression on his face. "can't believe it worked so fast, though. they must be real desperate for someone's attention. all it took was for you to fuckin' pretend like you cared." suguru grouches, being a sore loser. you don't hear the rest, the notebook you had lost long forgotten.

a lump forms in your throat, a sensation of dread creeping up on you. you desperately want to believe he's not talking about you, but you can't shake the realization that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn in a bet— a tool used for his amusement. you're overwhelmed by a sense of stupidity, a painful realization sinking in, drowning every rational thought.

he never cared. you could fall dead at this moment and he wouldn't even spare you a glance. you should've known. why would he? you feel stupid for allowing him entry into your life, stupid for naively believing in his sincerity, and stupid for daring to love a heartless jerk who played with the fragile strings of your heart.

they're right. you are pathetic. you just blindly fell for the first person who gave, or rather, pretended to give a shit. a relentless ache throbs in your chest as you stubbornly refuse to succumb to tears over a boy— a resolution crumbling like fragile glass. despite your stubborn determination, an uncontrollable torrent of hot tears streams down your face, distorting the world into a watery blur.

the desperate yearning for someone to choose you, to envelop you in unconditional and pure love, had fueled your hopes. and for a fleeting moment, you believed you'd found it, only to witness your heart being ruthlessly trampled blue. clutching onto the tattered shreds of your dignity, half-broken and bleeding, you muster the strength to leave swiftly before they catch a glimpse of you.

the bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the air, each teardrop is a testament to the shattering of dreams, the dead hope that once soared. the yearning for a love that stands unwavering proves to be a mirage, leaving you grappling with the shards of a love that was never truly yours.

that day, you learn one more thing about gojo satoru. he's just like everybody else.

cerulean eyes, like pools of shimmering azure, flicker with concern as they scan the empty seat beside him. minutes stretch into eternity on the clock, each tick of the second hand amplifying the weight of his worry. nine twenty morphs into nine fifty pretty quickly, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. at this rate, you'll only get in twenty minutes of 'talking.'

you're always punctual—eight fifty-five on the dot. but today, the clock ticks on, and there's no sign of you anywhere. his brows furrow with concern, a nervous flutter dancing in his stomach. did something happen to you? the mere possibility sends a pang of anxiety through him, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat, unable to focus on the lesson before him.

yet, when his gaze shifts to meet suguru's, he swiftly masks his apprehension with an air of nonchalance, as if feigning indifference to your absence. but inwardly, his heart races as he anxiously awaits your arrival. when you finally walk in, he's already scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, filled with questions about what could have delayed you today. yet, as he extends his hand to pass you the note, his eager smile fades into confusion and disappointment.

you walk right past seat thirteen, your usual spot, without so much as a glance in his direction. instead, you approach a random girl and ask if you could sit with her. his heart sinks, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as a torrent of thoughts flood his mind. is something wrong? are you upset with him? he replays every interaction in his mind, searching for any misstep. but he can't find one. he's been careful to maintain the perfect facade when you're around. perhaps you simply forgot, he reasons with himself, attempting to quell the rising tide of hurt and confusion.

yes, that must be it.

...just a simple oversight.

"hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! just wait a moment!!" gojo's voice cuts through the chatter of students eager to leave as soon as the bell rings. he grabs your wrist, his touch gentle yet firm, halting your attempt to blend into the rush. his heart races in his chest, the sudden surge of adrenaline making his palms clammy.

"um... you didn't sit with me today." he mumbles, the words coming out in a rush, his voice tinged with uncertainty. his fingers toy with the ring around his finger, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggles to find the right words to continue the conversation. he doesn't like the way you're looking at him. there's a flicker of irritation in your gaze, a departure from the usual warmth and affection that he's grown accustomed to. normally, when his eyes meet yours, your cheeks tint pink, your pupils dilate, and you give him the cutest starry-eyed look. but not today.

"yeah," you mutter casually, your eyebrow raising ever so slightly. there's a certain coldness in your eyes that sends a shiver down his spine. you're about to leave again, but he moves to block the door, a frown creasing his forehead.

"did i do something wrong? i don't understand why you're suddenly acting so bitchy," he huffs, irritation lacing his voice. the words tumble out before he can stop them, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "no," you reply simply, your tone devoid of any emotion, as if you genuinely don't care. it stings his ego, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"you can 'use your charm' to make a new friend. since it's so easy for you, right?" you mutter, your voice trembling with suppressed anger. you promised yourself you'd hold it together, but the wound is still raw, etched deep into your mind as a flush of resentment rises within his eyes widen in shock, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart. you heard that? no, no, no... he hadn't meant for you to be there. he had been so careful, or so he thought.

"i didn't mean it, i just-" he stutters, desperately searching for an excuse, but he knows it's futile. there's no chance you'd believe him now, would you? his heart sinks. he doesn't want you to hate him. "i was easy, right?" you laugh bitterly, each word dripping with sarcasm and pain.

"i hope that three hundred dollars was worth it. not that you even needed it, though. you think toying with people is fun? you're a dick, satoru, go to fucking hell." you hiss, your words laced with venom, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "let me explain-" he protests, desperation evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. but you're too angry to even consider it.

"explain? explain what?'" you explode, your voice rising with each syllable, oblivious to the judgmental glances of passersby. you scoff, tears threatening to spill over.

"i didn't mean it," he cuts you off, his own voice strained with emotion. "you're my friend, i just—" his voice cracks. "friends don't manipulate other people's feelings." you interrupt, your voice laced with venom as you spit out each word. you're aware you look like a mess, mascara staining your cheeks. "friends don't trick and hurt you on purpose!" you yell, tongue dripping with malice. "and here's the thing. you may be the greatest, satoru, but you will never, be enough. not for suguru, not for anybody."

you almost regret saying it. targetting his biggest insecurity. but then again, he deserves it. "how could you say that?" his voice is broken, quiet, as he mumbles it out as a whisper. the eyes that you once found so stunning suddenly look just like everybody else's. they well with tears, but are quickly blinked away. "you don't get to cry, satoru," you scoff, unzipping your bag and opening the front pouch.

you toss all the letters you've written in class, all the sticky notes, every single ripped paper, every little doodle, flipping your bag over and emptying it on the floor. every single heart fluttering moment you experienced seems so dead now. "you don't get to act like you cared. it's only fair, after all." you manage to muster, fighting to keep your voice stable. tears drip down your chin as your bottom lip trembles.

every step feels like a battle, a relentless tug-of-war between what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. leaving him behind is like tearing off a piece of your own soul, but you convince yourself it's for the better— for your own sanity, for your own self-respect. each stride forward is heavy with the weight of goodbye, each breath drawn in a struggle against the ache in your chest. and as you finally turn away, a part of you dies inside, a piece of your spirit crumbling in the wake of shattered trust and broken dreams. you can feel his eyes on your retreating figure, the silent witness to your silent agony.

this time he doesn't try to stop you. and when you leave, gojo finally allows himself to cry.

today, gojo finds himself seated next to suguru, reclaiming his former spot from before the bet. yet, everything feels different now. the idiotic jokes his friends make just aren't as funny anymore. their presence is irritating to him. he laughs, but the sound lacks the same genuine joy it once held with you. he smiles, but it's a mere shadow of the radiant expression he wore in your presence. his heart may feel a fleeting sense of happiness, but there will always be a hole where you once were.

his so-called 'buddies' don't even notice that he's at his lowest point, and he can't help but think about the way you would've noticed immediately.

how you would've sent him a cute note with his favourite candy attached, because you kept them in your bag just for him, for these kinds of days. he feels so numb. he's always been so confident, yet he can't even muster up the courage to pass by your desk.

and he can't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen differently that day, if his intentions had been pure from the start. would you two have gotten somewhere? he supposes that now, he'll never know the answer. his eyes cloud over at that thought, slouching back down into his seat.

he never had the chance to tell you how sorry he was, how he would take it all back in an instant if he could. he didn't mean to hurt you. he was stupid and careless. and yet, he tries to convince himself that he'll be okay. that he'll be able to get over you one day. one day, when he's married and has two kids, he'll look back at this and laugh. so then why does his heart feel so heavy? you're not suguru, it's true. but suguru never made him feel this way. and he's confused with his own feelings.

he doesn't know what love is.

he's only sixteen.

perhaps he'll never know. but for him, love was sneaking kikifuku mochi into class for you to share. it was sending you cat memes at three am in the morning, only for you to groggily respond with your own. it was doodling you in his notebook in his spare time. it was how what you were feeling was how he was feeling too.

you were right, it seems.

gojo satoru, the greatest, yet not enough to make you stay.

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[rizzkisworld]

♡°Morning Kisses♡° - Nishimura Riki

pairing: fem!reader x bf!riki | wc: 1k | genre: fluff!!!

note: birthday fic for my lovely friend @yuniniverse !!!! (suprise for the other birthday girl later!!)

It was early in the morning, the soft glow of the sun beginning to creep through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room. As you slowly awakened, the comforting rhythm of your boyfriend's soft breaths filled the air beside you.

His hair was tousled and messy, falling over his eyes, yet he still appeared breathtakingly beautiful in the muted morning light. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, captivated by the way his lips slightly parted as he slept, a peaceful expression resting on his face.

Turning your attention away from the sleeping figure beside you, you knew you needed to get up to prepare for classes. The thought of school weighed heavily on your mind because let’s be honest, it was a literal pain as usual. The endless assignments and early mornings felt overwhelming.

Yet, as you glanced back at your boyfriend, you remembered the way he always supported you, offering those sweet words that always made the tough days a little more manageable. It's something about his presence that always helped you through the tough times.

Anyways, the hardest part about getting ready was always the fact that Riki had a tight grip on you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. Every morning, you’d find yourselves tangled in the sheets, wrapped in each other’s warmth, and it was hard to resist the comfort of his embrace.

His arms felt safe, and the way he held you securely made it nearly impossible to break free without a hint of reluctance. You loved his cuddles, but right now, his grip was keeping you from moving in the slightest.

Slowly, you tried to gently remove Riki’s arms from around your waist, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. But as soon as you shifted, he instinctively pulled your body impossibly closer, as if he sensed your intention.

His warm breath tickled your exposed neck, sending delightful shivers racing down your spine, igniting a mix of warmth and frustration. “Baby.” you mumbled, caught in the soft haze of sleep and affection, unsure if you were trying to wake him up or simply savoring the sweetness of saying his name.

At this point, you knew the only way to get him to let go was to wake him up. “Riki.” You raised your voice just a tad, infusing it with a tone that was stern enough to hopefully wake him from his dreams.

Nothing happens. You call his name a few more times, hoping he wakes up. Finally, on the eighth call, he's awake, his eyes blinking slowly open. “Good morning, baby… what’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice a delicious mix of sleepiness and depth that sends a flutter through you.

“I need to get ready for school. Can you let me go?” You turn your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. He takes a moment to process your words before he responds.

“I don’t know… can I?” he teases, a playful smirk forming on his lips as he notices your annoyed expression. A soft chuckle escapes him, adding to your annoyance. “Will you let me go?” You correct your grammar with a roll of your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“You know I can’t do that,” he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then, as if to seal his playful defiance, Riki leans in, placing a tender kiss on your neck and trailing soft, lingering kisses up to your cheek. Each gentle press of his lips sends a wave of warmth through you, making it even harder to leave his embrace.

Each kiss was intimate, making you crave more and more of his lips on your skin. “Hm? Cat got your tongue?” Riki whispers playfully in your ear, his breath sending delightful shivers down your spine when he notices the silence that follows his teasing. You gather yourself, remembering what's important right now.

“I really need to get ready, though,” you say, pouting, knowing the effect that has on him. You know he can’t resist your cuteness, how every little gesture draws him in further. His eyes sparkle with affection as he takes in your beauty and you relish the way his gaze softens, knowing that you hold his heart in the palm of your hand.

“Okay, but under one condition,” Riki says, a playful spark lighting up his eyes. He caresses your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, his fingers warm against your skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. With a gentle yet firm motion, he turns your entire body to face him, his gaze holding yours with intensity that sends your pulse racing.

He cradles your chin softly, ensuring you can’t look away, his touch both reassuring and intimate. “I need my morning kisses,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, filled with a playful urgency. Before you can even process his words, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and tender, yet it carries a hint of longing, as if each moment shared is a cherished secret. As he mumbles softly into the kiss, your only focus becomes him. The thought of school fades away as you gladly melt into the kiss.

Your lips collided with his, warmth coursing through your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. One of his hands found its way to your face, gently cupping your cheek, while the other stayed around your waist, making sure you had no chance of escaping.

The sensation of his soft pink lips on yours was intoxicating, a perfect blend of sweetness and flirtatiousness that felt as if the world around you had melted away. You were too far gone to care about the morning breath, all you wanted was him.

He broke the kiss, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jawline and then to your neck, each touch igniting a cascade of warmth inside you. When he looked back into your eyes, a tender smile graced his lips, illuminating the morning with an undeniable glow.

"I love you so much, pretty," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. He leaned in for one last sweet kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that lingered long after he pulled away.

"I love you too," you whispered, your eyes locked with his, feeling as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment. "Have a great day, my love," he replied, the warmth of his gaze enveloping you, leaving you motivated to go on with your day.

[applecrispy]

Oct. 2 ; Begging

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Male! Reader x Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

HEADS UP!

Second Kinktober prompt, set! Enjoy this drabble

Ended up being a bit sweeter and not too 'begging' as the prompt said, but hey! There's always another chance to re-write this after kinktober!

Also, ignore the fact I haven't posted day one yet ajdhkcjks I'll probably post it later since I'm a tad stuck on it.

And how out of practice I am in writing- but I swear, all my thirsts will (hopefully) get better overtime!

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Finnick moans, his hands claw at the kitchen counter top as his boyfriend pounds into him from behind. He aches a bit, but god it's amazing and worth it all.

He had teased (Y/n) earlier today, he was in the mood, and seems like (Y/n) was as well after having Finnick drop to his knees and suck him off from under their dinning table. He wouldn't admit it straight up, but Finnick has been itching for his lover's touch since a few days ago when (Y/n) had returned from his trip to District 13 to check in. The kiss they shared at the station, Finnick liked it a bit too much, maybe he missed (Y/n)'s lips against his, the gentle touch on his sides, how he didn’t push him-

"(Y/n)- baby, fuck!" Finnick chokes out, another moan leaving him.

His chest felt cold from being pressed against their marble counter, but (Y/n) simply continued to piston into him. A hand gently holding his thigh up to the side, granting him a new angle, and Finnick felt his legs shake, and at some point he's pinned to the counter. He can barely keep himself up on the floor, and (Y/n) seems to notice because Finnick yelps briefly as he's flipped over and he's now with his back to the counter, staring up at (Y/n) as he hikes his legs up. Now presented with a canvas, Finnick reaches up and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's back, moaning as he tries to bite the noises back by biting his bottom lip.

His hair is disheveled, messy, and not in the usual styled and seductive manner that his ex-stylists used to fix it into, but rather into something raw and honest. His fingers draw down (Y/n)'s back as he shudders and soon sputters on a noise and breath.

"Another- inside, please-" Finnick begs quietly, he doesn’t care how he aches faintly from the past three orgasms he's already had which have stolen all the air from him, he needs another load inside of him. One more.

(Y/n) smiles slightly, both love and pure unadulterated adoration, and he leans down to groan into Finnick's ear "You want another inside? And here I was thinking of pulling out and finishing all over your thighs instead... why so desperate?" He teases, and Finnick scoffs as much as he can before he breaks into a choppy whimper mixed with a moan "I- Oh right there... There! Nail right there!" He can't help but purr out, and when (Y/n)'s thrusts slow and intentionally miss, Finnick is digging his face involuntarily into (Y/n)'s neck "Please- please please... So good, please, inside. Another, right... right tHE-" his words are cut off and hit a high as he throws his head back, and if it weren't for the gentle hand on the back fo his head that stops the movement by catching his head and curling a hand into his hair, Finnick would've slammed his head open. But he's too lost to properly adore the action, instead he only lets out a heavy, and noisey high pitched moan.

(Y/n) had shifted his thrusts, and was now thoroughly fucking into him, right into his prostate as he had asked, and the tease just chuckles breathily.

"There?"

"Yes... Yes! Please inside, inside." His last few words mold into messy shapes and noises, still coherent in a sense, but debaunched with his ecstasy. He lets out another softer whimper, and Finnick swears this man is the only one who has been able to reduce him to these honest words, begs, and noises. He's a mess, but shit it's so nice.

It doesn't take too much longer, and (Y/n) gives a small tug to Finnick's hair, reeling his mind back to quickly ask for honest confirmation "Inside?" And Finnick can't help how he begs.

"YES! Inside, inside, please- please (Y/n), need it. Please, need to feel it, feel you-" and Finnick is cut off with a yelp and moan as his hips are grabbed and he's pulled down to be plush against (Y/n)'s hips. He shudders as a weak orgasm leaves him, untouched, oversensitive, and the feeling of being filled and pumped with a orgasm once more in him, Finnick lets the fingers he hadn’t noticed that dug down (Y/n)'s back fall lax.

He lets his expression drop, content as he bathes in the after glow, breathing in heavily as he lets out weak little noises. He gently holds onto (Y/n) as his partner seems just as breathless as he is, pulling back to smile down at him as Finnick feels his heart briefly flutter at how he looks at him.

"Seems like you've missed me." And Finnick groans in complaint and jokingly tries to shove (Y/n) away with a little tired grin on his own face "Oh piss off!" He scoffs out a playful laugh despite how breathless it sounds, quickly diving in to kiss (Y/n) once more in something sweeter.

Yeah, he had missed him.

[chefboiblobbies]

Emma Frost X Reader

Emma Frost likes devotion. She’d enjoy loyalty, admiration, just someone who would bask in her presence. She has that kind of queen energy that makes you want to follow her without question.

She embodies strength, intelligence, elegance. Emma is not just powerful, no, she’s commanding, like she knows she deserves attention and admiration.

And you do admire her. Because how could you not? She was everything you find attractive. She caught your eye the first time you saw her at the X-Mansion, and you could only hope you caught hers.

But Emma doesn’t work like that. You would have to do slow first steps. Greet her, show her you like having her around, make her trust you. Make her respect you.

Because Emma doesn’t like weak-willed people. She’d appreciate intelligent conversations. She doesn’t need you to be confident, but be self-assured, maybe challenge her when necessary. Emma doesn’t want a lap dog, she can get those anywhere. After her first real break up with Scott, she had felt too vulnerable. So if you want to create something serious with her, do not worship her blindly.

Stand beside her. Again, earn her respect. Show her you appreciate her and Emma might just actually show a genuine smile. It wouldn’t be big, wouldn’t necessarily resemble a smile. It would probably be more similar to one of her smirks, but it means a lot. It’s a step into the right direction.

Once you two are friends - or the best definition of what friends might be for someone like Emma - there will be more teasing remarks from her. More looks, more times she would specifically talk to you if she had gossip, or simply wanted to rant.

At some point you two would create this kind of dynamic - that standing eye to eye - whereas you both would hold respect for each other. Emma doesn’t want a mindless follower as a friend, so if you’re honest, not agree with everything she says and actually show her genuine support - she might just think about you one night.

Maybe it’s a dream she has, maybe it’s her thinking of you when she sees something she knows you’d like. But at one point, Emma would realize she likes you a bit more than a friend.

As confident as she can be (and she certainly is), she wouldn’t make the first move. Emma likes playing the waiting game. Do not underestimate her. She’s patient with these things, with vulnerability and trust. She’s complicated when it comes to love but she’s not unfair, she would show signs.

So, what’s a classic Emma move? Well, she’d start testing you.

Emma doesn’t rush into things. She’d start subtly testing the waters. The usual friendly bickering and teasing would… be more than just friendly. Maybe a compliment too many, maybe some comment about your love life. She’d want to see how you respond.

She would also let you in more. Her ranting or gossiping would turn to more personal truths. Maybe she’s more willing to talk about her past, or things she’s interested in. She’d subtly want to know if you’re fine with how she is under all this confidence, this (slight) persona of hers.

You’d find her actually actively searching for you (in Emma’s view she’d accidentally stumble across you, of course. She’s independent… no way she’d go look for you.. well.. maybe). She’d stand closer. She might not even start a conversation, just quietly existing near you. Silence doesn’t mean Emma dislikes you. She’s not good with words, or rather words of affection, because yes she can, and will, cuss out disrespectful people. But when it comes to admitting that she feels just a tad bit warmer around you than usual? Never. You’d have to read her actions, her body language. While her face doesn’t say much about her inner conflict, a soft graze of her fingertip when you take a file from her is more calculated and meaningful than you think.

Another thing that is incredibly Emma is eye contact. Now Emma has very bright blue eyes and she doesn’t shy away from eye contact so you can imagine just how intense it would be once she starts staring at you.

She measures people with that piercing stare. She doesn’t even need to use her powers to know what one is thinking. So if she starts holding eye contact with you longer than necessary, with that slight smirk and perfectly curved eyebrow like she’s considering something? Yeah, she’s interested. Shy away from her gaze and you might just miss the slight increase of her smirk.

Problem is: Emma doesn’t like drama. Or rather she loves drama, her whole life is drama, but she doesn’t want her love life to be dramatic as well. So once those butterflies appear, Emma might just come across as uncaring. Or at least she would try to come across as such, wanting to avoid attention to her emotional… infuriation? Basically wanting to avoid gossip.

So, she’d pretend not to care. If you disappeared from an event early (Xavier gives too long speeches sometimes), she wouldn’t give you a second look. But later she’d drop a “You left early. Bored of us already?” as if she wasn’t considering just leaving the meeting as well. She won’t admit she missed you. But she did. More than she should.

After a while of these “signals”, basically this testing phase of hers, one would have to make the first proper move.

As established many many many times before, Emma is dominant. She isn’t afraid to take what she wants. But after the whole Scott dilemma, and her noticing that yes, maybe she wants something more… meaningful, something deeper with you, she might hesitate. She doesn’t like vulnerability, and wanting someone, wanting you, makes her feel that way. If she’s unsure how you feel (Listen, while Emma might be full of herself, and you giving her heart eyes like a love-sick puppy - so that everyone’s kinda really aware of your feelings - this emotional conflict in her would make her doubt you. She’s cold and calculated but not frozen inside.) she’d wait. Or toy with you a bit, seeing if you’ll step up, if you make the first move.

And you probably should. Do it in a way that doesn’t feel overbearing though. Don’t make her feel chased, no grant desperate gestures.

Instead match her energy. Tease her back (it’s fine if it’s a bit awkward, it might get Emma to smirk at that) or drop subtle compliments (she knows she’s stunning, compliment her humor instead). One time you told her she was the funniest person you knew, and congratulations, you were the first to ever say that to her. If you like her humor (which is probably just honest quips, or sarcastic remarks), she might do them more often around you. She will do them more often around you.

And if she lingers near you? Don’t call her out on it, let it happen. If she’s choosing to be there, that’s your green light. Do the first move.

So once another Gala was announced (seriously who is sponsoring them?) and after months of sneaking around each other, you ask her out. Or rather, ask her to be your company for the night. And she’d say yes.

You don’t pick her up for it. Her private chauffeur would bring her right to the front of the stairway of the Gala’s entrance. You’d wait for her in your white suit/dress (and while white might not suite you, you wanted to match her. Because Emma ALWAYS wears white.), and once she steps out, you should really be aware of just what reaction you show. Your eyes would widen, jaw dropping, because she truly is eye-widening and jaw-dropping beautiful. She’d walk up to you, looking you up and down smoothly, those piercing blue eyes giving you goosebumps, and simply raise another classic perfect eyebrow.

You’d be at loss for words though, and with a chuckle, she might just lean in a little, lower her voice and say something like “You’re awfully quiet, darling. Cat got your tongue? Or is it just me?” - just to see you react harder. If you chuckle and throw back a casual remark, or couldn’t find your voice, or a mixture of both where your sentence would come out more shaky than usual - she’d love that. It would show her you’re not trying to prove anything, you’re just being real in the moment, you’re just in awe of her.

And if you’re scared of her mind-reading whatever inappropriate thoughts you might be having, don’t worry. Emma might’ve done so in the past with you when you tried to get to know her, but she respects it by now. She respects you. She doesn’t pry, unless necessary. But she might let you think she’s reading you just to mess with you. Maybe a little playful misdirection, maybe a tilt of her head and a slight squint of her eyes. She’d quip back with something like “Relax, I’m not in your head. Yet.” before interlacing your arms, awaiting for you to walk her up the stairs - into the Gala.

Sadly; this was Emma Frost - the White Queen - you were taking as your company for the night. That meant her presence would be stolen rather quickly. Business associates would be there, urgently seeking her out - whether to broast, let their eyes get a good view of her chest, or talk business - either way, Emma wouldn’t be by your side.

You’d converse with other X-Men, have a drink with Logan, dance a bit with Rogue, talk about this really cool experiment Hank has been doing, somehow end up third-wheeling between Jean and Scott and then end up having to choose which one of the two was in the right between their sudden bickering before Ororo would come and save you. The usual.

And it would be fun. They’re your friends, the night’s nice. But it wouldn’t be with Emma. And sometimes you’d catch her eye across the large room, she would twinkle her fingers slightly at you, and if you wave back broadly, a bit too excited for something so simple - no you didn’t.

At some point the noise would get too much, or maybe it was the drinking with Logan, or maybe you simply weren’t feeling the best. But you’d go out to the balcony, lean against the railing and stare up at the night sky’s moon. It was beautiful, peaceful. Quiet. Until you’d hear the clicking of heels, the noise so engraved in your mind, you wouldn’t need to turn around.

Emma would stand beside you, and if your ears were still perked, you’d hear the sigh. She probably managed to escape. Silence would fall over the both of you. There would be many things you could say in that moment, but maybe you should take it soft, maybe you should start again.

So when you open your mouth and compliment her - yes you know that she knows she’s stunning but you have to say it once at least - in a simple sentence tell her that she looked beautiful in that dress, Emma’s gaze might just soften on you. But she’d resort to her usual comeback.

“I know.”

…

“..Thank you..”

You’d turn your head to your side to look at her, only to find her staring back already. There’d be silence again and if you learned anything from the months of knowing Emma, it’s that this meant a good thing.

You’d need a kick of confidence but maybe it was the quietness, the silent murmuring and clinking coming from the inside of the Gala, that would make this moment softer, easier. And so you’d move your hand forward, your finger pointing out until it would bump hers.

And she’d notice the slight shake in your hand, the hesitation, the way you’re now testing the waters like she had been doing for weeks. For a second she wouldn’t move, not pulling away, not closing the distance, just letting it happen.

And then slowly you’d feel it, barely there, she’d move her finger against yours - just once. Something like a ghost of a touch, like an acknowledgement. But it would be there. And you’d hope she would feel the same spark that goes through you.

After a moment, she’d glance away from you and back out at the moon. She’d look utterly stunning in its light, yet you wouldn’t focus on that. You’d focus on how she hadn’t removed her finger yet. You’d want her gaze back on you, so you’d bump at her finger again, maybe even trailing yours down to her palm. The movement would cause her fine manicured nails to graze the top of your hand. And she’d let it happen again, might move her own finger, let one of her nails trace over you.

There’d be barely anything, but you’d know it’s intentional. Everything she does is. It was an answer, a silent one.

And after another moment of silence (there would be a lot throughout the night), with her focus still on the damn moon and not you, she’d murmur - almost amused, almost indulgent - “You’re bolder than you look, darling.”

But you wouldn’t be bold. You’d think you couldn’t be. You’d reply as such, confessing you’re not bold… but rather.. curious?

Emma would let out the softest hum at that - like she was mulling over your words (she was), deciding whether she believed you (she wanted to). Still not looking at you (you nearly want to beg her to), she’d tap her fingertip against your hand once, thoughtful.

“Curious.”, she’d echo, almost to herself. Then finally - finally - she’d turn her head just slightly, enough that her eyes could flicker to yours. Once again studying. Measuring.

“And have you found what you were looking for?”

Her voice would be quiet now, the teasing edge softened - but not gone. Never gone. Because she knows the answer. She just wants to hear you say it.

And when silence rings out again, you’d start wishing for some sort of loud noise. Her eyes could - and they did - make you question it all. Since Emma was not one for words in these moments, you’d ask yourself why you’d have to be. So, maybe, you’d interlace your hand that was still in hers, and lift it up, bringing it to your lips, where you’d press the first kiss between you two right onto her knuckles.

Her face wouldn’t give away a reaction. But she’d watch you more intently, as if her gaze had sharpened. This would ensure her eyes would stay on you even if the moon starts screaming.

Emma’s used to being desired, to having power, but this? It’s something softer she wouldn’t have experienced. Not with Scott, not with anyone else, but with you. Solely you. And she could see it in your eyes, that you wouldn’t want anything in return. You wouldn’t be demanding, you’d simply want to let out all the emotions boiling in you.

Her hand would rest lightly against your lips, her fingers curling just slightly, like she’s considering whether to return the gesture or let it stand on its own. “Well,” she’d murmur, her voice low but not unkind, “you certainly know how to make an impression.”

And then, just before she could pull away, or you could let go of her hand (you wouldn’t, you couldn’t), she might let her thumb brush gently against your lower lip, a silent acknowledgment that she did appreciate it. That she was okay with this, okay with you. Comfortable.

Her lips would quirk up into another smirk. And it would be as if time had slowed. The lip gloss on her lips would shine stronger in the moonlight, stealing your attention for the first time of the night from her eyes to her lips. You’d see how they part, her perfectly white teeth revealed - everything was perfect about her to you - as she’d let out another teasing remark, trying to swallow up this vulnerability that had been growing too fast, too rapidly.

“Not bold you say, mhm?”

And you’re not bold. You wouldn’t be. But your heart would explode, the butterflies would flatter their wings too fast, and your stomach would feel like it was being melted by their speed. And you couldn’t stop yourself.

Everything had been slow, teasing, testing. So when you suddenly stood up straight, to gain stability so you might just be able to lean forward and crash your lips onto hers - onto Emma’s - you’d do exactly that. Your nose would bump into her cheek, your lips interlocking with hers. And you couldn’t even tell what she’d taste like. Because after being stunned, caught off guard, Emma would compose herself quickly.

She’d kiss you back, but with that controlled, deliberate edge she always carries. She’s not letting herself get lost in the moment, but enough to show you that she’s present, that she’s allowing this to happen. And for you it would feel like everything you’ve been fighting against and giving in to it at the same time.

Before you can get lost in the kiss, Emma would pull away. There’s silence again, charged this time, but she wouldn’t let it linger for long. Not now. Not after this. With a quiet smirk, her voice laced with something more vulnerable - perhaps the most vulnerable tone you’ve heard from her - (which she’d never admit), she speaks: “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

But you wouldn’t take it, the moment catching up with you. You’d get flustered, maybe even stepping away, head urging to move into your hands, hiding your face away from her.

You weren’t regretting your choice, you’d simply feel overwhelmed. And Emma would notice the sudden change, staying right where she was, humming and letting her nails reach out to caress your arm. She wouldn’t move closer, but she’d show you she wouldn’t leave either. She wouldn’t push.

After you calm down, after you feel like your lungs work again and your stomach hasn’t melted yet, you’d feel that boldness grow. You’d reveal your head again, lifting it up from your arms, just slightly until you could let your eyes meet hers again.

And you have to ask. Because you can’t tell what she tastes like yet. And you wouldn’t let the night end like this. Your voice would be muffled as you yearn to know if it would be too much, if you’d ask for another kiss. You’d be fine with not getting one. You don’t want to destroy this moment, don’t want to be too much for Emma. But you can’t turn off your heart, it simply doesn’t work like that.

She would take a moment to process your question, her fingers still grazing your arm. There’d be something almost calm about the way she holds herself, despite the tension in the air. Yet, she’s aware of the weight of your words, and she’d know what you’re asking. And she’d actually look away for a second - just one. As if needing this singular moment to think. Emma doesn’t rush into anything. She doesn’t need to. She is her own person, her own control.

But Emma Frost doesn’t play unfair. And if there’s any correlation between the faster pace of her heart, and the tingling in her stomach, then she’d know only one way to answer.

“I don’t think one more would hurt.”

So you’d move your arm that she had been caressing into letting your hand properly slip into hers and squeeze - before pulling her in - no, not pulling, tugging. Because Emma isn’t set on remaining distant, a wind breeze could make her heels click onto the floor, moving her closer to you. And she would. She does.

And you couldn’t make her wait. You’d meet her in the middle, maybe you’d even take a bigger step than she would, but you two meet again. This time it would be slower, more deliberate. Your eyes would close, as the sensation of her soft lips were all there’d be on yours. You wouldn’t know if you sighed, or moaned, or simply breathed out, but you’d be aware of her taste. Finally you’d know.

Emma wouldn’t be desperate. Emma simply isn’t. So if you feel her pushing herself slightly forward into you, if you feel her lips moving against yours or if you’d notice how her arms would come around your neck, nails digging into the back of it - you wouldn’t comment on it. You’d agree that Emma isn’t desperate.

And if this one kiss would turn to two more, or three, or four; if both of your tongues would simply explore the other, just like you’re both testing the waters again, and again, and again; and if this kiss would indeed hurt you both, vulnerability too much and the sudden appearance of such weakness leading to a new stage of your relationship - you’d keep your mouth shut.

Because you are desperate. And a kiss has never been so loud.

[stottlemorgan]

Hello :3 idk if you do requests or whatnot so Ima ask.

Would you do a childish reader

(NOT A CHILD. and not like age reg crap or wtv)

just an energetic, childish adult x Arthur Morgan? Smut if you want :))!

Arthur Morgan x BubblyFemale!Reader (Fluff, a little bit of pining?)

Author’s Note: Hiiii anon, thank you for the request! ��˚⊹♡ I’ve bundled that description up into BubblyFemale!Reader, I hope I hit the mark - It’s ended up as small chapter-y bits! I couldn’t for the life of me work any smut in there, sometimes it just doesn’t jive. But maybe I’ll do a part 2 because BubblyFemale!Reader is soso sweet I love her and some smutty ideas did come to mind. Word Count: 2,599 Tags: Fluff, banter, it's just a cute little time with you being a sweet little dumbass who Arthur can't help but fall for.

Arthur isn’t as fiery as he was in his 20s, it only really rises to the surface when he’s particularly tense or drunk. He’s much more keen to partake in the calm ebb and flow of the time in between scouting jobs and swindling marks. You on the other hand… You’re always buzzing with fervour, and if he’s honest with himself, you can be a tad overwhelming to be around. He’d initially thought that your bounding energy was due to the adrenaline of being on the run for weeks but it doesn’t seem to have worn off.

“-Not one bit,” He’d said to Hosea as they sat by the campfire one evening, his fingers tapping against the whiskey bottle in his hand as he pictured you, “Always yappin’, fallin’ over herself like a newborn calf.”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost sound sweet on her, lad.” Hosea responded softly, a small smile on his face as he watched embers flick up and be carried off in the gentle breeze. Arthur let out a quiet, uneasy sound, shifting on the log beneath him before taking a swig of whiskey.

“Sweet? Naw, I ain’t sweet. She’s just a curious one is all.”

When he returns from jobs or hunts, you almost wind him with hugs. She does it with everyone, he reminds himself each time as he watches you scramble across camp towards him. You slam into his chest with a loud “Hi, Arthur!”. He stumbles back, looking down at the crown of your head, his arms out at his sides before he blinks and brings a hand to your head, patting slowly,

“And hello to you, too, Miss.”

“S’been days!”

“Sure has. Y’been holdin’ up alright?”

“Yeah, I‘ve been alright. Better now you’re back.”

You tip your head up, balancing your chin on his chest, looking up at him, doe-eyed and he swallows thickly, his hand still in your hair. He’s rarely the one to pull away first, too swept up in the gentle pressure of your chin on his chest, your enthusiastic embrace, the scent of your soap. And not to mention that goofy grin plastered across your face.

When Pearson finishes dinner, you’re usually the first one to jog through camp, earning a snap of your name from Miss Grimshaw to which you let out an aggrieved huff and slow down, rolling your eyes as you snatch your plate from the table and slop some stew onto it. Watching you eat is ever amusing; the way you shovel food into your mouth, humming appreciatively at the salty, hot meal. You also have an endearing (or unsavoury, as Molly dubs it) habit of talking with your mouth full and it’s not hard for your fellow camp-mates to notice how Arthur intently watches your features with the fondest of looks.

“You best calm down, girl. I ain’t gonna be the one squeezin’ chunks of rabbit outta you.” Arthur chuckles with a shake of his head only to be met with a full-mouthed scowl and the dull thump of your boot heel nudging into his calf.

After weeks of living side by side, Arthur has started to acclimatise to your sprightly behaviour. He’s found himself readily anticipating your hugs by taking in a breath, your nudges by tensing prematurely, and your ridiculous ‘Yackity-yack’ (as Uncle once referred to it as) with a roll of his eyes and a “Don’chu start now, girl.”. And despite his begrudging demeanour towards each of these behaviours, he’s found himself enjoying them more and more, and even subtly provoking them.

You’ve unknowingly graced the pages of his journal a few times, too, in the form of quick, sheepish sketches and words. He feels as though each part of his being is performing an almighty tug-o-war; you’re desired by his hands, his eyes, his pounding heart. Yet, his mind won’t allow him to want you, a constant tension laces his speech and superficial actions. There is always restraint, for your sake.

I doubt it would work out between us. A spirited gal such as her is bound to meet her match. It sure as hell ain’t me. I’d likely sap the light from her, drag her down into the dirt where I reside.

I can’t deny the light she fills me with, though. Sometimes I think that cloudy days exist because the sun decides it wants to spend the day within her.

“Where’ya off to, Arthur?” You call out, skipping across camp to the hitching posts where he is slinging his satchel over the rear of his horse.

“T’catch us all some food. Y’alright?” He asks, turning to face you fully. He tries to ignore the way his head tilts as he looks down at you attentively; one of the many subtle actions that snag in his psyche telling him ‘You’re gettin’ sweet on her, Morgan.’

“Yeah, m’alright…” You trail off, gently swaying from side to side, pursing your lips, “Huntin’, huh?” 

Arthur’s brow furrows suspiciously before amusement swiftly follows, his voice lilting with a certain fondness reserved for you,

“Wha’chu want?”

“T’come with ya.”

His eyebrows raise. You? On a hunt? Holding a bow, holding your breath, having to sneak? Arthur takes a big breath and sighs deeply. That doesn’t sound like a stressful situation at all. You’re not at all the least patient person he’s ever spent time with. He’s not been avoiding each opportunity for time alone with you at all. He looks at you for a long moment, rolling his tongue about his mouth, narrowing his eyes. You’re standing eagerly, staring straight up at him, practically vibrating.

“Y’ain’t gonna take no for an answer this time, are ya?”

His grumbled question is answered by the mischievous smirk that curves your lips. Arthur’s shoulders drop and with another sigh, this time one of concession. He nods back towards his horse,

“C’mon, then.”

Your smirk breaks into a triumphant grin and you bolt to your tent to grab your things.

“And wear some proper boots-” He calls out after you, “-Not those scruffy things with the soles peelin’ off. The ones I gotch’ya last week that you still ain’t worn.” He folds his arms, forcing himself to focus on the clouds instead of allowing his thoughts to stray too far into what this hunting trip was going to be like and the slight nervousness coagulating in the fluid between his bones.

Much as Arthur expected, you natter away for the entire ride to the hunting spot and he genuinely wonders how you fail to tire. You ramble about everything under the sun from how much you hate embroidering to the ‘stupid big bug’ you saw in your tent the night before to how Uncle has started to teach you to play the banjo.

“Woah!”

“What?”

“Look at those horses!” You point enthusiastically.

Arthur chuckles, his focus following your finger to the pack of wild horses racing through a nearby field.

“I see ‘em.” The words leave him warmly as you watch the horses and he watches you.

The briefest of pauses passes before you puff out a breath through your nose, and Arthur’s lips form a knowing smile. He can almost hear your brain whirring with questions and things you’re noticing. He stays quiet, still smiling, and waits for you to speak, enjoying the moment of respite with you.

“So, where’re we goin’?” You ask as you look at Arthur, tilting your head playfully.

“Place called O’Creagh’s Run. S’not too far.”

You purse your lips, your focus drifting to a squirrel scuttling across the path and into the trees. “What kinda critters’ll we find there? S’it pretty?”

“Oh, lots o’ types’a critters. Deer, bears, ducks, rabbits. You name it, s’probably there… And yup, s’pretty-” He turns his attention to you, silently taking in the fit of your jeans and the way your body gently sways in rhythm with the rambling pace of your horse, “-S’real pretty.” Arthur allows himself a second more before looking back to the path.

When you reach O’Creagh’s Run, Arthur takes it upon himself to choose a spot and set up camp, letting you run about and take in the beauty of the new area. He can’t help but think of a dog that bounded up to him in Valentine the day before.

“Oh, Arthur. Pretty don’t do this place justice!” You shout to him from somewhere within the thicket as he pulls a bow over his shoulder before strapping a quiver to his thigh.

“Try not to run about too much, girl. Don’t want you spookin’ the game.”

After a moment, you jog back out to the campsite, huffing, a frown dragging your features south. Arthur makes his way to you with another bow and quiver, readying them for you, but he stops once his eyes meet your face.

“What’s gotten up your craw?”

“You’d think such a charmin’ place’d be chock fulla all sorts of flowers. I can’t find any anywhere.” You complain, still looking around you for any sign of flora. This earns a hearty chuckle from Arthur and he shakes his head while stepping closer to you.

“Naw, they’re a little more East of here.” He says softly before handing you the bow and lowering to one knee to strap the quiver around your thigh, “We ain’t here for flowers anyway.” He concentrates on tightening the buckles of the quiver until it’s flush with your thigh, his fingers grazing over your jeans. You go unusually quiet. When he looks up at you, you’re watching his hands with the faintest blush on your cheeks. Arthur puts it down to your running about like a madwoman, though the heat spreading through his chest tells him otherwise.

“Now, stay low and keep your voice down. And no gigglin’.” Arthur instructs gently, looking at you briefly over his shoulder before stalking through the thicket after a small herd of deer. You nod and give a comical salute as you follow,

“Yessir.”

Arthur’s expression is one of exasperation as he grumbles out, “Good girl.” before turning back around. You creep along behind him, your own bow readied, peeking over his shoulder. The crunch of your boots in the grass, the occasional soft sniff or hum, the feeling of your body at his back; it’s all heating him up quicker than the sunlight streaming through the copse. As you near the herd, Arthur lowers his voice further,

“Alright. I want you to watch what I do. No shootin’ from you until I think you’re ready.”

When he doesn’t receive a response, a huff escapes him. He knew it would only be so long before you caused trouble. With a curious frown, he halts and looks over his shoulder, only to see you skulking off into the thicket towards an opening.

“Hey-” Arthur hisses, “-Girl. Get back here.”

You’re already creeping out of the brush, batting at the twigs getting caught in your hair as you go.

“Girl.” He growls under his breath. He gives one more glance to the small herd of deer before sighing impatiently and striding through the brush after you.

When he reaches the clearing, he’s met with the image of you, bow dropped into the grass, squinting into the viewfinder of your camera. He softens despite his frustration, allowing himself to appreciate the way the late afternoon sun highlights your lustred skin, the way you’re just about balancing to get the shot, until his dreamy gaze lands on your choice of muse.

A bear.

One that is facing away from you, but a damn bear nonetheless. The swirling warmth in his chest exits through the shuddering breath that escapes him.

He quietly places his bow on the floor and inches towards you, keeping his steps as soft as possible. He makes quick work of clasping a hand over your mouth, his other arm wrapping roughly around your waist, yanking you back against him and shuffling back into the brush.

“You stupid?” He spits, his breath puffing against your skin, his mouth grazing your ear, “Tryna get yourself killed?”

“Mm– Arthur-” You whine in protest, your speech marred by his rough palm pressed against your mouth. He feels your teeth and tongue forming the syllables, wetting his skin and for a split second it throws him off. His next swallow is to tame the buzz in his head, before he tightens his hold on you, dragging you further back into the copse, to safety. You grab at his forearms as you stumble,

“Mm– Arthur– Get off–”

“Shu’ch your mouth–” He grunts into your ear, “Dumb sheep ain’t got the right to bleat.”

When he finally releases you, you meet him with a lower, clutching your camera tightly.

“I ain’t no dumb sheep–”

“Oh, you ain’t?” He laughs wryly, “Okay, sure, ‘cause standin’ out in the open a few feet from a bear is smart, is it?” He gestures towards the opening and narrows his eyes at you as he takes you in. Your face is flushed a deep pink, you’re still catching your breath from the surprise. You huff out a breath through your scrunched nose, and it takes Arthur a steady long breath in to not let out an abrupt laugh, thinking you look like an angry calf. Sweeter on her by the second, Morgan.

“Okay, well–” You raise a finger at him, as if to start on a tangent, yet what comes is not of much worth nor thought, “-You ain’t– I just wanted– It wasn’t lookin’ at me!”

“Even if it weren’t lookin’ ach’u, it was one change in the wind away from smellin’ you. Now, c’mon–” He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you the short way back to the camp.

Arthur makes you cook dinner as a punishment for giving him “a damn heart attack” and you oblige, directing the occasional ornery glance at him as you stir the small stewpot.

“Don’t gimme that look, girl.” Arthur exhorts as he takes in a mouthful of rum.

“Lucky I don’t spit in this here pot.” You grumble and he blinks, his brow raising at your attitude. He swallows, giving you a look.

“Lucky I don’t leave you stranded in these woods for that bear to find.” He gestures toward the thicket with the neck of the bottle.

Your stirring pauses and you scowl up at him, the glow of the campfire glimmering in your eyes. Your words puff from your lips in a more petulant way than you’d planned.

“You wouldn’t.”

 A grin pulls at Arthur’s mouth, revealing his teeth, an expression you’ve grown to know only graces his features when he’s truly having fun. It causes your own snarky expression to falter, your defiance morphing into a lovesome warmth and plunging into the pit of your stomach.

“You know better than to provoke me, Miss.” Arthur shakes his head and glugs another mouthful of rum before continuing,

“Besides, spit or not, I’d still eat it.”

The groaning sound of repulsion that his words elicit from you serves to draw a surprisingly rich and bubbling laugh from Arthur. You find yourself wanting to do anything and everything to hear it again, to quickly snatch it up from the air and lock it beneath your ribcage, to nestle your heart within it; but all that comes out is waggish judgement.

“You’re wrong in the head.” You begin stirring the stew again, catching it just before it begins to burn. Arthur leans back a bit, a puckish glint in his eye,

“Maybe so, but I’m also hungry.”

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch. 1) | Roman Reigns

Plot: Roman Reigns seems to be everything Laila never knew she needed. He's handsome, charming, confident, and very protective. As a criminal defense attorney, Roman is used to bending the laws to his will, to his control. When he meets Laila, a 21 year old student who just transferred from her hometown college, he sees a young woman who needs his protection. He sees someone who only needs him.

Laila believes she's found the perfect man. But perfection always comes at a price.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: OC is a virgin! (for now…), slow burn romance, they’re just talking to each other in this chapter

Summary: For the past week, a mysterious man has been watching Laila at the cozy little café she goes to after class, where he finally decides to “introduce” himself.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: CHAPTER 1 AHHHH! This was more of an intro chapter so it's a little shorter. I’m gonna do a slow burn to build up the suspense, romance, and everything in between. It will have everybody from the original bloodline, so Roman, Paul, Jimmy, Jey, Solo, and even Sami!! Yall please comment if you like it so far! And if you want to be tagged let me know

Laila usually kept to herself. It’s not that it was on purpose, though. After moving halfway across the country to Florida to finish college, she was still adjusting to the new environment.

After graduating high school, her parents encouraged her to enroll at the community college, just for maybe 2 years or so. She did everything to make her mom and dad happy, but she couldn't help but think she was missing out on the full college experience.

She talked to her parents about possibly transferring, although she never said where. They reluctantly agreed, and 2 weeks later, she found out that she got accepted into the University of Miami just in time for the fall semester.

It took a lot of convincing her parents, especially her mom, to let her go. But once Laila mentioned that she received a scholarship, that convincing became a whole lot easier.

All her mom and dad wanted her to do was to continue to make good grades and get her Bachelor of Science degree in Accounting. Also, with her being the only child, she had to do well.

She was a tad bit sheltered in the romance department, too.

She had her first kiss at 17 on the night of homecoming with this boy, Trey, who she had a big crush on since freshman year.

That was like the highlight of her life, to be honest.

But ever since then, it’s just been school, school, and more school.

She just wishes she knew at least one person here in her new home for the next 2 years.

“Order for Laila!” She was snapped out of her thoughts, forgetting that she was supposed to be listening for her coffee that she ordered a couple minutes ago.

Quickly standing up from the little corner table she found, she walks up to the counter where the barista is holding the drink out for her.

“Thank you so much!” She takes the drink—an iced cappuccino with hazelnut shots and sweet cream cold foam on top—and walks back to her table.

Setting the coffee next to her laptop, she opens it, going to her calendar to see if there were any assignments due tonight.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She quietly breathed out as the front door bell rang, signaling a new customer had just entered.

Naturally, she glanced up at the person and unintentionally did a double take.

Oh, this man was handsome.

Not wanting him to catch her looking at him, she quickly averted her eyes back to her laptop. His back was now to her, waiting in line at the counter to put in his order.

She trailed her eyes from her laptop screen to his back, taking in his very tall stature. He also had on a black suit that he definitely got tailored, because it fit every inch of him perfectly.

The guys back home surely don’t look like that.

Trailing her eyes up his back, to his head, she sees that he has a nice man bun.

And then she hears his voice.

“Yea. I want a large black coffee with cream and sugar on the side. Thank you.”

Laila notices how he says, “I want…”. Her mom always told her that the way a person orders food or a drink tells a lot about their personality.

She was always the type of person to say, “Could I please get…”

Clearly, this guy knew what he wanted.

She didn’t realize she was still staring at the back of him, until he turned around and softly smirked at her. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she looked down at her phone in shame.

Needing a distraction, she just decided to mindlessly read over her class’s syllabus. Her brain only registered something about a research paper due at the end of the semester, when she suddenly felt a large presence standing in front of her table.

She damn near looked like a deer in headlights.

“So, UMiami huh?” The deep, velvet-smooth voice spoke out.

Laila slowly turned her head upwards to meet the face of this sexy, mysterious man, and she had to catch her jaw from going slack at his beauty.

“…How do you know that?” She asks, confused.

The man just chuckles and points to the back of her laptop. “The sticker that says ‘UMiami.’”

Laila reaches to close her laptop just enough to see the sticker that he’s talking about. “Oh, right! I forgot I put that sticker there.” She laughs, showcasing a beautiful smile and two deep dimples that lit up her whole face.

Her smile made Roman smile, his dimples catching her eye, a sharp but adorable contrast to his manly features.

With his large coffee in one hand, he uses his other to point to the chair in front of her. “You mind if I sit?” It was a bit more of a statement than a question.

Laila, not knowing how to say no to people, nods before she can catch herself.

Every move this man makes is with purpose, never rushing or hesitating. Every move is with intention. He sets his coffee down, his fingers briefly brushing against the rim of the cup before he smoothly pulls out the chair.

A quiet confidence that’s controlled and deliberate.

She watches as he sits across from her, his broad shoulders relaxed but his presence heavy. There’s something about the way he looks at her—like he already knows something she doesn’t.

Laila clears her throat, in an attempt to calm her nerves. It’s not that he was creepy or anything. His stare was just so intense that it made her suddenly so hyper-aware of herself.

He finally speaks up. “I’m Roman.” He says, slowly outstretching his hand over her now-closed laptop.

Laila hesitates for just a second, but ultimately moves her hand toward his. He gives her a flirty gentleman’s handshake, her delicate fingers between his thumb and fingers. He smirks at her, giving her soft hand the slightest, respectful squeeze.

Roman holds her gaze, steady and calm, his eyes holding an underlying intensity that Laila is oblivious to.

“My name is Laila.” She shakes her head and speaks up, forgetting that he just introduced himself to her.

“It’s very nice to meet you. Laila.” He tests out her name on his tongue and it seemed to just roll right off of his tongue.

She was the first to gently pull away from his hand, smiling nervously and fiddling with her hair.

Roman brings his coffee to his lips, taking a sip of it now that it had a chance to cool off a bit.

“You come here often?” That voice was so attractive to Laila.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I like to do my homework here instead of the library a lot of the time.” Now it was her turn to take a sip of her iced coffee.

"What are you studying?"

"Accounting, I'm in my junior year." She says nodding, proud of how far she's come.

"Good with numbers huh?" He teases and smirks at her, knowing she's probably heard it a hundred times.

She playfully rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Ugh, if I had a dime for every time somebody said that. But, I just like this coffee place because it's so cute."

Roman nods in understanding. “I get it. I like to come here after work every day before I drive home.”

This piqued her interest. “Oh, what do you do?” Curiosity filled her voice.

His fingers grazed the top of his cup before meeting her big brown eyes again. “I’m a criminal defense lawyer.” He says with confidence. He took his job very seriously, as it entailed some things that had to be kept under wraps.

Laila’s eyes lit up at this new information. “Oh wow! Wait, so you get the bad guys off?” She giggles.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face at her question. “Yea somethin’ like that.”

Laila smiled at looked down at her lap, still so nervous and in shock that a man that looks like this is even sitting down, talking to her.

“Well, if I ever get in any trouble, I’ll know who to call!” She adds to the fire.

“Nah. You’re not the type to get into trouble. Just stay with the right crowd, you’ll be okay.” Laila couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I don’t even have a crowd to stay with…I don’t know anyone here.” She shyly admits, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know me.” His tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick his lips while he brings a large hand to his tie, tugging it down a little.

Laila’s heart had to be going a million miles a minute, at this point.

It was like everything he did was sexy. He just oozed sex.

‘Girl you’re a virgin, you don’t know what sex even feels like.’ That voice inside her head yells at her.

She was trying to think of what to say next, but he spoke up before she could.

Roman reached two of his thick fingers into the pocket inside his black suit jacket, pulling out a stiff little white card with writing on it.

“If you ever ‘get into some trouble’ ,” he said, his voice low, “give me a call.”

Laila gently took it from his fingers and read the words on it.

Reigns, Heyman, & Associates

“Justice served. By any means necessary.”

Seeing the law firm’s motto made her blink back her surprise. “Oh, wow…you uh, really get down to business,” she glances up at him, to find him already looking at her.

“We do. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Get you out of a parking ticket, beat up somebody for you, talk to a professor…”

This made Laila laugh, but little did she know, Roman really was NOT joking.

He chuckled and admired how beautiful she was when she laughed. Those beautiful dimples would make him so weak.

A text message from his phone broke him out of his admiration as he looked down at it. It was Heyman.

Paul Heyman: Chief, we have a new client. This one got busted for drugs, but he was one of the contributors in our plan to take over Rollins’ firm.

Roman: Say no more. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

After texting Heyman back, he put his phone in his pants pocket. “Laila, I actually gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” He says, standing up and grabbing his half-drunken coffee that was now cold.

He reached his hand out for what Laila thought would be a good-bye handshake, but he brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Be safe okay?” His hypnotizing voice coaxed an immediate response out of her.

“Okay.”

They parted ways, with Roman leaving to handle business, and Laila being left with her thoughts and her heart that didn’t seem to stop racing ever since she met this man.

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 1.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content and sex toys, soft!dom Dean. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! Also, English is not my native language

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 2,380

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

A/N: If you want to be tagged for the next parts, just let me know. And feedback is welcome!! Enjoy! 🦊

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

1st Dec. - Sunshine

“Sunshine?” You repeat the unexpected nickname with a little grin while you sit down on the edge of the motels bed. You were used to sweetheart, darling, love or even baby, but sunshine? “That’s a new one…” you remark with a teasing lift of your eyebrow, your eyes darting from his, back down to the gift on your lap.

“I thought it suited you.” He explains with an expression which was almost too innocent for him. Clearly he is trying his best to hide his knowing smile, but his excited voice betrays him. “Now open it, sunshine.”

“Uh-huh”, Your finger tugs at the unconventional gift paper, which consisted of nothing but a roll of toilet paper that hung loosely around the small package. “Interesting wrapping paper you picked there…” You comment with a wry smile. This was so typical Dean.

He chuckles at your remark, “What can I say? I’m a fan of practical gift wrapping,” he says with a cocky smirk, taking a seat next to you, “It’s eco-friendly.” The mattress dipped down from his weight and your shoulders bumped against each other. He makes a great effort to play it cool, but the slight friction was enough for you to notice the excitement and arousal which was radiating off of him. This just made you wonder even more; What the hell is that sly bastard up to this time?

Dean watches as you carefully unwrap the package, clearly intrigued by what he had given you. “But I promise, the content’s worth the toilet paper sacrifice,” he adds with a playful smirk. There it was again, that all too familiar glint in his green eyes. That flash of ‘oh baby if only you knew’.

At last, you rip the box open, your eyes peering down to be met with… Oh dear lord. Your eyes widen and Dean could see a million thoughts flicker across your face at the moment of realization. This is exactly the reaction he had hoped for. He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep a straight face – but fails miserably.

“You stick it where the sun don’t shine… sunshi-”

“I know where it goes.” you cut him short in a sputter, your mind still trying to catch up with this... this gift, “I just- I’ve never-…”

“- done it before. I know,” he finishes for you, his voice a mixture of teasing and reassuring, “Remember that talk we had? About tryin’ new things.” He leans over, his shoulders brushing against your chest as he reaches into the box. “You like it?”, he asks, feigning innocence. He takes the toy out of the box to trace a finger lightly over the small, jewel-adorned plug.

“I-...I- uh-,” You start, but your eyes keep drifting down to the toy in his hand, your mind racing – damnit, you were usually confident and experienced when it came down to these things… but, to be honest, kinky stuff really hasn’t made it into your bedroom so far. But trying these things with Dean for the first time? You’d be damned for missing out on that. And hey, don't knock it till you try it, right?

“Yeh, I like it,” you finally say, trying to muster some of your usual confidence, “I mean… I did say I wanna spice it up...”

That answer hit jackpot in Dean’s expression. He bites his bottom lip, trying to contain his eagerness, yet again, failing miserably. “Well, don’t keep me waitin’,” he teases, his voice just a tad bit lower than usual. You glance down at the toy and back up at him, unsure how to approach this exactly.

Noticing your lost expression, Dean gently takes your hand and leads you to stand up in front of him, him still seated on the edge of the bed. “Strip.” His tone has an authoritative edge to it now, though his eyes remain soft, almost tender as he tries to guide you.

You feel a little shiver run down your spine; that damn voice could have made your knees buckle any time. Nodding slightly, you slowly begin to undress, stripping off layer after layer of clothing until you stand completely naked before him. Dean takes a moment to admire your body, his eyes roaming over every part of you. As his gaze lands on your hips, he speaks again, his voice a low growl. “Now turn around, sweetheart.” He places his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing over your skin, sending a row of shivers through your body. Once you face away from him, you involuntarily bite your lower lip in anticipation. With the toy in his grasp, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Get on your hands and knees, sunshine.” You swallow thickly. But again, you obey his command without question and you drop down onto your hands and knees on the floor in front of the bed. By now you can feel the excitement and lust raise more with each of your quickened breaths. And Dean can almost smell your arousal as he has to bite back a groan from it, his bulge growing bigger. He pushes off the bed and places a hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you slightly forward, forcing you to arch your back slightly. He runs his fingertips down your spine, eliciting another small shiver from you. Out of your sight, but still not going unnoticed by your ears, you hear him lick the bottom of his lips at the sight while he could feel all of his blood go south. He leans in close to you, his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

A small whimper leaves your lips at the praise and the feeling of his firm hands on your bare skin are already enough to make you dripping wet. You hear Dean move behind you, reaching for the lube on the bedside table and what you assume, coating the toy with it. He then gently leans against your back, the cold buckle of his belt and the evidence of his arousal pressing against your bare skin. You bite back a groan from it, silently wishing nothing more but for him to unbuckle those damn pants already. But you know, you’d have to be patient for now, so you keep your needy sounds back as well as you can. At least until you gasp loudly when you suddenly feel the cool, metallic surface make contact with the warm skin of your buttocks. “Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand soothingly massaging the small of your back. “I’ll be gentle.” His voice is even deeper now, filled with lust. You feel his hands continue their exploration, running over your curves and every dip, his calloused fingers caressing you like you are a work of art he wants to savour. His hands send sparks up your spine and you find yourself shudder and your breath hitch whenever his fingers brush across your most sensitive spots. “Now, this might feel a lil’ odd at first,” you hear him whisper, his lips hovering over the back of your neck as you feel his warm breath tingle your skin and the fabric of his flannel rest against your back. “Lemme know if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, I will,” you reassure him in a low mumble, not managing to hide the slight trepidation from your voice while your fingers idly searched the rug for something to dig your fingers into.

Dean feels you tense under his touch and he makes sure to keep his hands firm yet tender, his fingers tracing reassuringly over your skin. “Remember, just relax,” he repeats, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks. A shaky breath escapes your lips and you do your best to loosen up your muscles and melt into his strong hands which always give you a feeling of safety, no matter what you two did. And you two had done a lot of adventurous things so far.

“I’ve got you,” you hear him whisper against your ear again. And this time you could swear you even heard some vulnerability in his voice. You trust him, always, no doubt about that. But it’s moments like these, rare little moments of him giving you a glimpse of how damn much he really cares about you feeling safe and protected in his presence, that makes you eager to reassure him. Maybe even please him a little. You hum a soft “Mhm”, silently giving him the final go.

Then, he begins to slowly press the plug forward, his hand still resting on your back, steadying you. You feel the cool and wet tip sliding further inside, spreading you surprisingly well – but then a little sting makes you gasp from the unexpected feeling, which let your muscles tense up momentarily, before you feel his soothing hands again, and you relax under his touch.

“Shhh, ‘tis alright,” he coos softly, the plug inching inside you at the same time, “Good girl. You deserve a big treat.” Your legs tremble from the sensation and a low whimper leaves your lips – it’s not bad, but still very new and you were constantly fighting the urge to clench your buttocks around the unfamiliar object. When Dean finally stilled in his movement and the toy reached its end, you couldn’t hold back the shaky exhale which was close to a soft moan. Now that your body has adjusted to it, it feels… surprisingly exciting and pleasurable. And damnit, you want more now. You need more.

A sudden pleading whine hits Dean’s ears and his smirk widens into a cocky grin at the needy noise coming from your trembling form. “You want more, sunshine?”

“Yes...please,” you whimper instantly, your hands and knees shifting along the rug, in a desperate attempt to get some friction between your thighs. He groans – this time failing to hold it back in. The sight of you, all needy and exposed and you wearing that pretty jewel adorned-plug that’s twinkling in the low light of the motel room and fuck- he just noticed how wet you are. He briefly grazes his bottom lip with his teeth before he clenches his jaw to force down a swallow, his voice a low rumble under his breath, “Goddamn honey…”. Meanwhile his fingers run along the inside of your wet thighs, scooping up some of your juice like he wanted to make sure that none of it went to waste. He brings his fingertips up to his lips where he then licks them off with a deep groan.

And that just does it to make Dean give in.

Without giving you the chance to prepare, he goes back to your pussy and effortlessly pushes two fingers past your slick lips, drawing a deep moan from you as you feel a shudder go through your body. He keeps one hand on the small of your back, while his fingers pump inside you, relentless and eager to give you the release you deserve. “You were such a good girl,” he praises you, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot which makes you almost buckle. “Oh God-” you moan shakily, the sensation of his thick fingers filling you up on one side while the butt plug is spreading your other side, was almost too much.

“You can take it, come on,” he challenges you with a gravelly voice, his teeth grazing your neck as if to dare you to talk back. “‘M gonna make sure you get what you deserve and then some,” he whispers against your ear, the sound of it a threat as much as a promise. And then he starts scissoring his fingers while holding you in place with his other hand. You groan loudly, your fingers clutching the next thing they can reach - the damn toilet paper wrapping, which rip and crumple from your nails in an instant. Your hip‘s bucking involuntarily at the increased pressure and a row of guttural moans leave your throat. “F-fuck” you whine breathlessly, the feeling of being spread and stretched becoming almost bordering painful and yet oh so pleasurable as you feel the knot inside you tighten up more and more. The working of his fingers and the pressure in your butt get you close to the edge in record time as you just give in and let him do his magic. Your legs start to shake and if it wasn’t for his fingers dug into the flesh at your hip, you’d have keeled over by now for sure. Dean increases the speed, now his thumb flicking over your swollen bundle of nerves every time he pumps his fingers inside of you again.

“F-fuck, Dean, I- I’m- I’m comin’-” your voice breaks off when his fingers hit your g-spot again and you find yourself whimper into the rug, your nails clawing at the floor.

“That’s it-” he praises you again, now slowing down his pace but thrusting them as deep as he can while his arm slams against the plug, pressing it further in - and that‘s the last push it takes to tip you over the edge. You feel your legs give in as the knot finally bursts and the wave of ecstasy hits you, your walls clenching around his fingers and your body tensing up. Dean keeps you from falling forward, his fingers still going and his grip on your hip tightening while he’s murmuring words that go past your clouded mind. He lets you ride out your hight while your juice is soaking his entire arm. You moan out his name with a final shudder before he lets you collapse to the floor.

Dean looks down at your trembling form, all spent and limp. A satisfied grin spreads across his face while his tongue swipes over his glistening arm, savouring your sweetness and cleaning some of the mess. After a moment, he kneels down behind you, his hands caressing your butt where he pulls the plug gently out, putting it aside before his hands go back to soothingly stroke your arms and legs. He places a row of tender kisses on the back of your neck, his voice a low rumble, filled with affection and pride as he whispers against the nape of your neck. “Happy first advent, sunshine.”

EDIT: I revised some of it. My sleep-deprived brain had left out some parts which I just had to add / adjust.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags: (thank you lovely sweeties, I hope you enjoyed it!)

@deaniemyboo @deansjacket @literallylexa

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn��t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[rotthepoet]

In love with your writing, specially bsf!theo. I’m in such an angst mood. Everyone knows we’re in love with Theo and he’s in love with us besides the two of us. Longing with fwb to lovers? Maybe some more smut if you’re feeling spicy?

IN LOVE WITH YOU, POOKIE!!! If theres one thing I know how to do its YEARN and LONG so lets hope that translates into writing 🙏 it’s been a hot minute since I wrote an actual fic, and i took a few liberties with your rq, so please let me know how you feel about it!

Notes: i typically write for a gn!reader, but I really hope everyone can forgive me for writing in a FEM perspective today. It just makes writing smut a tad bit easier on me(an afab person)

Content warnings: As always, Hogwarts University AU, Characters are all 18+, Draco Malfoy calls Nott a fat ass(degrading eating habits, commenting on working out), Theo’s mom is dead, mutual pining but being too stupid to figure it out, crying during sex but not in a hot way(no safe word used/tech needed), angstyish to comfort, use of drugs(weed), SMUT, oral(fem receiving), kinda proofread? Please let me know if I miss anything major.

Things only got more intense as the… situation went on. Hooking up had become significantly more common, almost a daily occurrence. You found your mind drifting to Theodore more often than not, thinking about how disheveled his hair looked in the morning, or how the first words he mumbled when he saw you today were “Hello, beautiful”.

Your thoughts never strayed too far from Theodore, and to be honest, it felt like he never strayed too far from you.

In the most recent months, it felt like you two had become inseparable. That’s not to say it was a bad thing at all, oh no in fact, it made you quite happy to know he was around. He was your friend after all. The sex-thing, as you opted to call it, was just a benefit you both indulged in time to time.

Of course, neither of you dared to openly admit your scandalous behavior together. It wasn’t anyone’s business, even as Theodore had started seeing less women and spending less nights out partying. It wasn’t anyone’s business when Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulder while walking around Hogsmeade, or when he smiled at you when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t anyone’s business whenever Theo stopped sleeping around completely, and it certainly wasn’t their business when he beat the shit out of one of the Weasley twins for accidentally catching you in the crossfire of a loose prank.

It wasn’t anyone’s business besides the two of yours, and for the most part people had began to ignore it, except for a select group of close friends.

A day didn’t go by where you weren’t pestered by one of Theodore’s friends. They collectively figured that you were more likely to break under pressure than Theo was. It was ruthless.

Draco Malfoy stands at the front of your desk, glaring down at you. “You know you’re just another one of his phases. He does this. Falls helplessly in love with a girl, dedicates his entire time to her, only to remember he isn’t built for that life. It’s about time you save yourself the trouble. I’m only trying to help.”

Not everyone was as terrible as Draco, thankfully.

Mattheo Riddle would approach you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, putting on his most convincing Theodore impression. “Ciao, Bella,” even his most convincing impression wasn’t very good, “My room or yours?”

Sometimes you play along, running your hands over Mattheo’s in a way that makes his skin prick with goosebumps. “I was thinking we could do it on Matt’s bed again.”

That usually get’s you a hard shove away if Theodore hadn’t already spotted the situation.

Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t as insistent, just staring at the two of you, raising a brow whenever he finds you hand in hand. He draws a huge smirk on his face every time he sees you alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“You mean your boyfriend? I see the way you look at him, don’t play dumb Enzo.”

He doesn’t like that game as much. Usually scoffs and ignores you.

Then there was Blaise Zabini.

Blaise Zabini.

He knows more than he should. Far more than he should. He watches. He listens. He knows. He perceives.

The first time Blaise found you asleep in Theo’s arms, it was early in the morning. Their little clique never missed breakfast together unless something drastic had happened. So, whenever Theodore didn’t show up for breakfast, Blaise volunteered to check on him. Only Draco questioned it when Blaise grabbed a plate and two muffins(“Those are practically cakes, Nott’s fat ass doesn’t need one to begin with, let alone two! Doesn’t even show up to quidditch practice anymore.”). Draco was ignored.

“You’re going to lose her if you keep acting like this, you know that right?”

Theodore tries to ignore Blaise as best he can, he really does. He traces his fingers over your hair softly, watching you dream.

“Just tell her, Theo. What are you so scared of?”

“Drop it, Blaise.”

“No. You obviously love her, you’re obviously in love with her!”

“Lower your voice-“

“Why are you so scared? Is it your father, Theo? Is it your-”

“I mean it Zabini, drop it.”

The room goes eerily quiet as you shift slightly in Theodores arms. It lasts for only a moment before your breathing returns to the deep, rhythmic patterns.

“Get out.”

Blaise didn’t brother bringing it up after that. He knew what was going to happen, and he was going to let it play out. It wasn’t his business, after all.

Your friends weren’t much different. You stopped hanging out with them as much, not on purpose at all, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe one or two of your friends resented Nott for it, “He’s a playboy, everyone knows that. I don’t like how close he’s getting to you.” Or “You aren’t… sleeping with him right? Please tell me you aren’t.”

Both you and Theodore laughed endlessly about every comment. It was silly. I mean yeah, you two fuck, but you’re just friends. You’re just friends, and friends can totally cuddle each other to sleep, and friends can totally kiss without sex. Its not a big deal! Its not a big deal as Theo almost pukes every time he says, “You’re my friend, I’d tell you if anything changed.” And it’s not a big deal when your chest aches as you say “Same here. It’s not that weird when you think about it.”

It wasn’t a big deal the first time you cried during sex. It wasn’t a big deal when he pulled out immediately and held your face, asking what he can do for you to make it better. It wasn’t a big deal when you sobbed in his arms for hours, chest hurting because you loved him so much and you knew you could never say anything. It wasn’t a big deal when Theodore kissed your mouth shut when you tried to apologize. It was a big deal though. It was a really big deal.

It was a big deal when you wrote your name next to Nott like a child. It was a big deal when you kicked your feet in bed thinking about how he called you pretty. It was a big deal when he kissed your cheek so absentmindedly that it felt natural. It felt right.

It was a big deal, and it hurt so bad.

But you could manage. Look at how strong you are. Look at how composed you are. You knew that one day all of this would come to an end, and you were okay with that! It was something you knew you could one day stomach, so for now, you didn't let yourself worry about it.

What you worried about instead, was how fine the object of your affection looked tonight.

Theodore was dressed to the nines. Black slacks, a loose button-up shirt, and those eyes that undressed you no matter where you were. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. You looked wonderful too, showing just enough skin to keep Theo on his toes.

Slytherin winning the house cup was a moment to be celebrated, the common room decorated and loud music playing from every corner of the room. You and Theodore spent every moment together, laughing whenever someone dared approach either of you for a dance.

Smoke curled out of Theodore's lips as he snuffed out the filter of a joint you had shared. He grinned at you, and you smiled at him, and everything else faded away.

Time slowed down, and Theodore's smile fell.

"I want to be with you, this summer."

And you laughed and smiled, nudging his arm slightly. "Well, all you need to do is invite me to your summer home in Italy, and I promise I'll spend every day with you."

"No. I want to be with you."

And for a moment, it felt like everything was still. Theodore looked so scared, and you looked so scared, and your mind was fighting the high to fully understand and process his words.

"With me?"

"With you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost not realizing whenever Theodore groaned and stood up.

"Theo."

"Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Theodore."

"I'm sorry. I knew we shouldn't have."

"Theodore Nott, look at me right now."

And he did. He looked at you so sadly. It made your heart ache.

"I want to be with you, too."

It felt like a brick that sat on your heart had finally been lifted. You laughed at the smile that spread across his face. You laughed as he pressed sloppy kisses against your lips. You laughed as he picked you up, kissing you stupid as he carried you to your room.

The weed still made your mind and body buzz with a high, and fuck, every touch felt better than ever before.

Your back hit the mattress, and Theo climbed over you. He looked so handsome, and you felt so pretty the way he looked at you. His hands worked at your dress, pulling you into a deep kiss as he found the zipper in the back.

Your hands gracelessly unbuttoned his shirt, whining into the kiss as you struggled. Finally, with a small chuckle, Theo offered to help you. His hands worked smoothly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

"You're stunning."

"Take a look at yourself, cara mia."

Theodore pushed you back down, gripping your hips as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You laugh, resting your hands over his, feeling just how wet you are between your thighs. You lean your head back, sighing softly as Theo drops to his knees.

Nothing else mattered when Theodore's tongue found your clothed pussy. His strong and veiny hands pushed your thighs further apart, and pathetic mewls spilled from your lips as he licked you.

Theodore continued to tease you, a grin plastered to his face at every moan and whine you let slip out. He licks over the lace of your panties, daring to suck on your clit through the soaked fabric. Pleas spill from your lips, and Theo can't bite back his groan as you tug on his curls.

Dead eyes look up at you from between your legs, and Theo pulled away just enough to remove the lace hiding your heat from him. He blows on your wet folds, pulling your thighs to his shoulders.

"I think I could stay like this forever, right here."

You roll your eyes and sit up, pulling Theo up just enough to admire his wet face. "I think I'd miss your face too much," you laugh, leaning in and kissing his lips, shivering as you taste yourself on him.

"I have a few other positions that I wouldn't mind staying in."

You push away his smirking face with a laugh, gasping for air suddenly as his mouth finds your clit. Gasps turn into soft whines as his tongue moves across your pearl, your hips jerking and shifting at each motion. You can feel his smirk as he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your arousal on his tongue.

"Theo," You whine out, but he silences you with a long finger prodding at your entrance. He shushes you, planting wet kisses along your thigh. "I know, bella, just take a deep breath. 'Gotta stretch you out all the way."

A needy moan slipped from your lips as a finger slipped inside of you. You could hear how wet you were, and Theo pulled back just enough to watch the digit disappear inside of you. He pressed a second finger in, carefully spreading them inside of you.

"So soft. So pliant."

His whispers made your legs shake as he stretched you out thoroughly. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, and it became almost unbearable as his lips found your clit again. He was slow, savoring the feeling of your legs shaking beside his head, and the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Ecstasy flooded your mind before you had a moment to think about it. Theo groaned into your cunt, committing the taste to memory. He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt until you were shaking in overstimulation, only then finally freeing himself from between your legs.

"You have one more in you, right? Can't get enough of you, cara mia. Will never have enough of you."

[kandyscorner]

Do I Know You? Part 25

Synopsis: You’re honest with Jason about some things, and your mimosas catch up to you.

Note: Still in the midst of the brunch. It’s a few more chapters than I thought, but I think I’ll wrap it up in the next chapter. Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter. I know that Dick being Nightwing was like a big reveal moment, but miss girl is drunk and that is not a priority. Also, I don’t drink alcohol, so if my descriptions of drunkenness have been inaccurate, I apologize.

Little warning: she does throw up in this chapter.

Masterlist

Jason was jealous, that green-eyed monster sitting on his shoulder ragged him about how now that you’d meet the likes of Dick Grayson, why would you ever want Jason Todd. The way you stared at Dick was what bothered him the most, it was like you were in a trance. He gets it, Dick is a good-looking man. That doesn’t mean he felt good about it.

But then you had turned towards him, reached for him without thinking, and it was like the sun shining on a wilted sunflower. Even though Dick was standing there, off to the side with that stupid smile, you openly told Jason you would rather have him. Dick left and the way you clambered to hold Jason had his heart soaring.

“I get it, you like me,” he had said, mostly to get you to lay off. He still felt a tad bit jealous, and he didn’t need you forcing anything else out of him.

“Duh,” you had said, like it was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world.

Duh, like you wouldn’t want to like anyone else in the world. it made that little monster disappear because why would you say something like that if you could choose Dick Grayson. It also helped that he thinks you're just a tad tipsy, and drunk lips usually equal honest lips.

Jason has a list of things that make him think you’re on the way to being drunk. You had been swaying when Selina brought you over, and you had a certain exuberance to your features when you saw him, like it was the happiest day of your life. You were talkative, repeating the same words as you rushed to tell the story of where you disappeared. Even as you two walked into the woods, your eyes would wander, and the rest of your body would try to follow.

When he was doing your dress, your swaying got worse. You almost fell as you leaned back, had he not been there to stop you. Your cheeks were flushed, which he wasn’t too sure about because you seemed a little flustered about the whole situation anyway. He wonders if your straying has anything to do with your tipsy state. You were entirely uncoordinated and lost, hands missing where you tried to grab and leading him in the wrong direction of the brunch.

Yeah, Jason was sure you were tipsy, although not entirely drunk. You still seemed somewhat conscious of your surroundings, although you were starting to get clingy, holding onto his arm as he led to where he saw Steph sitting at a table with Damian and Cass.

If you were tipsy, it had to have been his fault. He gave you two mimosas, and you still hadn’t eaten anything. He had to rectify that. He shuffled you into a seat next to Steph with a mild giggle from you. He couldn’t help but smile at the fit you fall into, laughing at something only known to you.

“You seem to be in a mood,” Cass says to you with a smile.

“It’s been a really interesting day,” you lean forward, arms stretched like you're trying to reach Cass, but you get distracted by Steph’s kaleidoscope purple nails.  She lets you pull her hands closer to your face with a grin.

“I’m going to get her some much-needed food. Do not let her leave this table, understand?” He directs the words most at Steph, whom he had left you with last time, and Damian, who had pulled you away from the crowd. You don’t even move from where you stare at Steph’s nails, he doubts you even hear him. Which is fine, maybe that’ll keep you distracted until he gets back. He doesn’t want to leave you here if you're going to get weepy again.

Damian seems to be the only one who took his demand seriously, a curt nod in Jason’s direction. The girls seem like they want to tease. Cass with a more pleased look, likely because she knows the truth, but Steph is what he worries about. That mischievous grin makes him a little antsy to leave you there, but you need food. Hopefully, the other two will keep her in line.

****

Steph’s nails were pretty, a shimmery purple that changed as you twisted her hand this way and that. You could hear talking, but your ears were stuffy to the noise, and Steph’s nails were just so pretty. Her hands wiggle in yours, and you look up to meet her face.

“How are you feeling?” She’s got an earnest look in her pretty green eyes.

“You have pretty eyes,” you pause, “but I think I like Jason’s better.” Steph grins at you.

“I’m sure you do. How’s your head?”

You squint at her, “My head's fine, it's not like I hit it or anything. Although I might be getting sick like a head cold? I’m a little dizzy and things are a little fuzzy, but I think maybe I need food. Jason said we were going to get food, but now we're here. Hey, jay-” you turn around looking for him.

“Where’d he go?” you blink, suddenly aware of his missing presence. Steph’s hands curl around yours and pull a little, drawing your attention back to her.

“He went to get you food. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. Your stomach isn’t bothering you?”

“Brown, what are you doing?”

“Oh, Hey, Damian.” You say, having not noticed him before. He nods at you before turning his attention back to Steph. She waves him off.

“I’m going to win a bet. How is your stomach?” she asks again.

“My stomach feels fine.” Her eyes are glimmering again, but you don’t really have in you to question it. She stands for a second, and then there’s another mimosa glass in front of you.

“Just one more and we should play some truth or dare.” You stare at the glass, then shrug. You pick up the glass, and then Cass stops you.

“This is a bad idea, Steph. She’s already tipsy, and you heard Jason. She hasn’t eaten anything. We don’t want to give her alcohol poisoning.”

“We are not giving her alcohol poisoning. Four mimosas won't do that. I'm just trying to loosen her up so she’ll tell Jason the truth about how she feels.” Steph argues. You only catch the first part.

“Yeah,” You pry Cass’s hand from the glass, “besides, how would I get alcohol poisoning from Orange juice?” You drink half the glass in one go. As you set the glass down, you meet the surprised faces of the girls.

“You think that’s orange juice?” Steph nearly shouts, and Cass slaps a hand over her mouth. You make a face at them.

“It is orange juice,” you say, confused why they were reacting like that. You bring the glass to your lips, and they’re both yanking the glass from your hands.

“You're done,” Steph says as she sets the glass on a tray to be taken away from you.

“Has your plan to win the bet backfired yet?” Damian asks in a snobbish tone.

“What bet?” you question, and Steph waves you off.

“Don’t worry about it. How many of those did you drink?” Both she and Cass stare at you in worry.

“I don’t know,” You shrug, still unsure what they were so alarmed about.

“Jason’s going to kill me,” you giggle at what Steph words.

“No, he won't. I’ll make sure he won't.”

“You might want to kill me tomorrow.” She adds, and you frown. An uncomfortable feeling crawls up your throat, and you wipe your hands on your dress, an unwanted phantom texture showing itself between your fingers.

“Can we talk about something else?” As the words leave your mouth, a plate of food is set in front of you. You tip your head back to see the face connected to the hand. With the back of your head pressed to his stomach, you get a view of an upside-down Jason. His hand comes up to press a finger between your brows, your body relaxes, and you forget about any uncomfortable feeling and what it could be connected to.

“What happened?” you hear him ask as you close your eyes. You don’t know if he’s talking to you or someone else, but you're far too comfortable to care.

You blink your eyes as he disappears, your head shifts back with the sudden missing support. His hand, which was on your forehead, appears on the nape of your neck. You turn your head to follow him as he sits next to you, pulling his chair close so his knee is pushing into your thigh.  Your hand settles on top of his thigh as you stare at him.

“Why did you leave me?” you ask, a strange, tearful ache emerges in your chest, and despite those words leaving your lips, your face pouts and scrunches in confusion. The words make you think of Red Hood because it's what you want to say to him. You don’t know why you're saying it to Jason. You're even more confused because Jason looks guilty, more than just someone who left to bring you food. His thumb rubs affectionately under your ear.

“Eat something, honey, or you're gonna start to feel sick soon.” He insists, holding a croissant up for you to see. Your hands leave him as you take the bread and start to slowly peel the layers and eat them, focusing solely on the task.

****

Jason needed a break. It was rare that you stressed him out, but you were kind of stressing him out. Although maybe it wasn't just you. Maybe it was all of this. The brunch, his family, you meeting his family, and then you apparently being a lightweight?  He hadn’t really thought about it before, but Jason’s never seen you drink, much less talk about drinking.

It's like you couldn’t decide what type of drunk you were. You were overly talkative, then you were quiet and secretive. You were happy and giggly, and then you were sad. Overall, it seemed the only consistency was that you were clingy, body tipping towards him at any given chance.

He didn’t like the way you spoke when he came back with food. Why did you leave me?  There was heaviness in it, and it reminded him of the warehouse all those months ago, the way you had begged and pleaded with him not to leave you. He didn’t like it, no, he much preferred the sober you. So, he distracted you with bread instead of answering the question. He watched you for a moment as you tried to methodically peel the layers of the croissant before eating it. You probably weren’t going to sober up soon at this rate.

When he looked, he found his siblings staring. Even Damian has a questioning tilt to his head. There's no doubt in Jason’s mind that they heard the emotion in your voice; he wanted to brush them off. It wasn’t any of their business.

“She’s not allowed to drink anymore, just water. I need a minute.”

“Jason-” He hears Cass call out. He already had one heart-to-heart with Cass; he didn’t need any more. He didn’t need any more questions, he didn’t need anyone telling him how much he cared about you, he didn’t need anyone else saying he was a mess just for you.

No more teasing. No more heaviness.

Just a minute to breathe. And a cigarette.

Jason didn’t smoke often unless he was truly wound up. An old habit from living on the streets, he had worked hard to get rid of it. He knew what drugs could do to people.  But sometimes, like now, he needed it.

He could only hope Alfred hadn’t ever found his stash or that they hadn’t rebricked the side of the house. He could go inside and find a stash there, but he still wanted to keep an eye on you. He tapped along the bricks of the house, trying to remember where it was. He was shorter, much shorter, when he hid them. He crouched just a little and…

Bingo.

The hodgepodge caulking job he did to try and hide it was atrocious. He can’t believe no one found it. Jason pulls his pocketknife out and starts carving out the shitty seal before shimmying the brick. There it was, a little tin box, to save it from the weather, he had reasoned at the time.

Jason pulled it and replaced the brick. Popping open the tin, he checked over the cigarettes inside. No mold? That’s pretty good, all things considered. Was he really about to smoke 8-year-old cigarettes? Yes, he was. He could regret it later.

Jason meandered back to the back of the building and settled on the corner where he could still see you. He placed the cigarettes in his mouth and tried the lighter. It took a few times, but a flame finally sputtered to life, and he lit the cigarette. The first inhale was a little rough; it had been a while since he’d smoked, but the second drag went in easier.

He watched you as he smoked. You were back to giggling again as you slowly ate… the croissant? How are you still eating the croissant? He shakes his head. He should’ve known. You could be a pretty slow eater when you wanted to be, but he just wished you wouldn’t do it now.

He probably shouldn't have left you again. The way you had asked that question bothered him. There was that sadness, but there was a simmering anger behind it. For some reason, he doesn’t think you're talking about today, but he doesn’t know when else you could be talking about.  Unless you know he was Red Hood.

No, you couldn’t possibly, you would’ve said something. Jason hisses at the sudden burning sensation on his fingers, dropping the cigarette bud. He hadn’t realized he had already burned through it. He didn’t feel much better, but they were old. Just one more and he’d throw away the tin and go back to you. Hopefully, his family didn’t do anything else.

Once the next cigarette was lit, he looked up to watch you again, but you were gone. The three still at the table looked like they were arguing about something. He gave them one job, but clearly, he didn’t give enough instructions.

He stands straight and looks around. You had just been there less than a minute ago. You couldn’t have gone far. All he finds is the rich of Gotham trying to outdo each other and oncoming rain clouds. Good, maybe this whole thing will be over sooner. Where were you?

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Your soft voice suddenly echoes in his ear.

He turns to find you leaning on a tree close to the edge of the house. You’re a dream in your dress, flushed skin, and a dopey smile. You’ve lost your shoes somehow, probably under the table. You wring your hands together in an odd nervous twinge that he’s not expecting from a less-than-sober you.

“I don’t,” he says as he tosses the cigarette away. You squint at him, an accusation without words. Jason takes a few steps closer but doesn’t invade your space. He’s sure he smells like cigarette smoke, and he knows it doesn’t smell all that good.

“I missed you, Jay,” you pout, glancing down at the space between you two.

“Just needed a minute, sweetheart.” He tells you, and you get a bashful grin on your lips, head ducking like you're trying to hide without really hiding.

“Like it when you call me that,” You mutter. He can barely hear you over the chatter of the party, but he does hear it. He takes another step closer to you, the urge to be near you, to be touching you, grows in his chest.

“Yeah, that the only thing you like?” he asks. Okay, you can sue him. You weren’t stopping your thoughts as easily as you usually do, and he wanted to know.

You manage to push yourself off the tree with only mild stumbling. He takes a half step forward, arms ready if you were to fall. You manage to get close enough to steady yourself with a hand on his arm. You blink at him like you're trying to remember something.

“I like Red.” You pause, brows pinching. Jason’s breath catches for a moment. Did you know?

“I like you more.” You declare as you watch your own hands leave his arm to smooth up his chest before settling on the sides of his neck. He waits for you to say something else, anything else. It’s quiet for a moment, and he finally sets one of his hands on your arm as you sway where you stand.

Your nose crinkles for a moment before settling down again. You're staring, not into his eyes or roving across his face as you so often do. No, you're staring at his lips, a hard lock on them, unmoving.

“Honey-”

“I want to kiss you, Jason,” you mumble, still staring. Your breathing has gotten short, nearing a pant, “I want to kiss you all the time.”

“All the time?” he asks quietly as you tip forward slightly, he lets you lean against him, his other hand settling on your back. Your nose scrunches again, settles, and then you're pushing up on your toes slightly.

Are you actually going to do it this time?  He hopes you will follow through, which he feels wrong about. You're still drunk, and he should stop you. What’s one kiss, though?

Your nose crinkles again, and your flushed skin suddenly pales. One of your hands leaves his neck to press to your mouth.

“Shit, you gonna be sick?” he asks, and all you can do is nod. Jason is quick to move, pushing you to the entrance of the kitchen. There was a bathroom just around the corner of the kitchen, but if you couldn’t make it that far, then the trash can would do. You whimper as he moves you, and he can see you pressing your hand to your mouth harder, like that would stop it.

You two get some stares from the wait staff, but Jason doesn’t so much as glare because he’s sure you're about to lose it. Jasons barely got the door open before your knees hit the ground hard and you're puking into the toilet. Jason’s quick to gather what hairs fall into your face and tries to rub at your shoulder soothingly as you throw up half-digested mimosa and the croissant you barely got into your stomach.

It takes a minute, and soon you’ve emptied your gut, body dry heaving with the gagged urges. Your shaking hands curled into the seat of the toilet. You stay there for a moment, waiting to see if there’s more or just catching your breath, Jason's not sure.

You finally sit back on your ankles. He finds your eyes closed as you take shaky breaths. His hands leave you to pull some toilet paper. He pries one of your hands from the toilet and presses the toilet paper into your hand.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water, okay?” he asks. You nod a slow thing and he’s sure you’re trying to stop yourself from getting sick again. Jason stands and shuts the bathroom door behind him before walking into the kitchen, where he’s greeted with Alfred already holding a glass of water, along with a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“I hear your friend may have drunk too much.” He says as he offers the items to Jason. Jason can’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Alfie. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.” He says as he takes the items.

“On the contrary, Miss. Brown seems keen on blaming herself. Something about a bet backfiring.”

Jason’s hand tightens on the glass. He was going to murder them. A bet, and the plan was to get you drunk. You probably drank more than the two glasses he gave you. No wonder you threw up.

“Interesting,” Jason grits through his teeth.

“Indeed,” Alfred says, and he wonders if Alfred shared that information with a purpose, “You should return to her. If you need anything else, my boy, I’ll stay close.” He turns and begins ordering some of the wait staff. Jason takes that as his cue to return to you.

Additional Notes: Alfred appearance! Although not meeting, he is near. I’m about halfway through the next chapter, and I think it’s kind of a filler chapter. Not intentionally but her and Jason do talk about some stuff, so we’ll see. As always, thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

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