#was stealing that coffee wrong

[tanglepelt]

Just another dp x dc idea. I think #6

Im just imagining Danny whose been up for the last week collecting his rouges extremely sleep deprived. He is dropping them off in the ghost zone far away from his parents portal cause he doesn’t want to deal with them.

He debated just leaving them in the thermos but decided against it cause it was bulging at this point.

Skulker makes an appearance as he’s releasing them. Wanting of course his pelt on his wall. Danny doesn’t even notice getting body slammed into a natural portal.

One second he’s in the ghost zone the next a coffee shop on a broken table with a robot ghost trying to kill him. Danny just grabs some guys coffee it was just pure shots of expresso. Good he needed the caffeine to deal with this bs.

He doesn’t acknowledge he stole someone’s coffee or the broken table.

He soups skulker and goes back through the portal before it closes again ignoring the confused looks. He just wanted to go to bed.

Tim drake was confused and mad. Someone stole his coffee and now he had to deal with an unknown potential threat.

Stealing his coffee is what made it personal

[hypatiaas]

After Beau heads upstairs for his pre-work workout, Gaby decides to use her time to study the cookbook she's borrowed from the library. Unfortunately, her morning coffee wears off just before she's supposed to leave for work. Another quick cup keeps her going, but she has a feeling she'll be dead on her feet later into her shift.

[seventh-district]

laying here in bed at 5pm on the 4th of July listening to the storm outside and seriously debating bulk-buying 90 coffee cakes. as one does

[radioscientist]

‘Atonement’ reminds me of ‘Summer Shade’, in that they’re really good episodes for the horror aspects of XXXHolic to shine through

[thef1diary]

Sit On It | L. Norris

Kinktober 7/11 - Cockwarming

Summary: Quality time, he told you, but you didn’t realize that your seat while watching a horror movie would be Lando’s cock.

warnings: 18+ smut, cockwarming ofc, dom!lando, filthy filthy words.

wc: 3.1k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Lando’s voice is a low, teasing murmur against your ear as you’re seated in his lap, your back against his chest.

His breath is warm on your skin, the heat of his body pressing into yours from behind. His grip on your waist tightens as he adjusts himself beneath you, making the shift seem casual, but you know better. The slight motion causes him to sink deeper, splitting you open, every inch of him pushing against your walls, filling you so completely that it borders on overwhelming.

Your eyes are fixated on the TV screen in front of you, mirroring his line of sight, but the images and sounds barely register. Whatever horror movie he put on is a distant blur, completely overshadowed by the way he’s filling you, the dull ache of being stretched around him that threatens to unravel you with every passing second.

Lando knows exactly what he’s doing—knows that with your back pressed against his chest, you’re acutely aware of every breath he takes, every subtle twitch of his hips. The cocky smirk on his face tells you he’s in no hurry to give you what you crave.

You clench around him, your body instinctively trying to pull him even deeper, to feel every last inch of him, but his hands keep you still. His fingertips press into your skin, leaving little crescent imprints, keeping you pinned to him in a possessive hold.

“Lan…” you mutter, barely managing the single syllable, your voice trembling with frustration and the faintest hint of need.

You can feel his amusement radiating from him, the vibration of a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he keeps you pinned against him. His hand slides possessively over your hip, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s making sure you stay exactly where he wants you—right there, on his lap, wrapped around his cock without so much as a hint of mercy.

“Not enjoying our little movie night?” he taunts, his tone dripping with mock concern as he lets his other hand wander lazily up to your lower stomach, stroking the skin just above where he’s buried inside you, making your breath hitch at the contact.

You bite down on your lower lip, trying to stifle the frustrated moan that threatens to escape. You’re almost starting to regret agreeing to this, wondering what made you think you could handle it. The moment he suggested “quality time” on the couch with a movie, you should’ve known there’d be a catch. Now, you’re trapped in a torturous game of stillness, your body pulsing with the ache of being stretched to its limit, every shift or breath causing a fresh wave of heat to coil low in your belly.

“Pass the popcorn,” Lando says suddenly, his voice maddeningly casual, as if you weren’t trembling in his arms and desperate for him to do something—anything—to give you relief.

He nods toward the coffee table, where the bowl sits just out of reach. It’s a simple request, spoken so casually it almost seems innocent, but you know better. He’s toying with you, pushing you just far enough to see how badly you’ll need to break.

For a moment, you consider protesting, but his hand tightens around your waist, guiding you forward. As you lean to grab the bowl, his cock eases out of you until only the thick tip remains nestled inside. The sudden emptiness hits like a shock, and you can’t help but clench around him, your body tightening in a desperate attempt to hold onto what little is left. The sensation is maddening, the emptiness almost unbearable as every inch that you lost leaves you aching and hollow.

You suck in a breath, reaching out for the popcorn, your fingers trembling slightly as you fumble to grasp the edge of the bowl. The second your fingers close around it, you feel his hand press firmly on your hip, guiding you back down.

His cock pushes back inside, stretching you open inch by inch until you’re completely filled again, buried to the hilt. It’s an unrelenting stretch, the sensation of being so deeply impaled that your legs start to tremble.

A small, unintentional whimper slips past your lips, your body betraying just how deeply it affects you. Lando’s smirk widens, and you can feel it against the back of your neck as he takes the bowl from your trembling hands, setting it aside.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of mock praise and raw satisfaction, his hand drifting lower to trace the curve of your inner thigh. “Did you miss having me inside you, even for those few seconds?”

You give a shaky nod, your breath hitching as you settle back into his lap, feeling the full, deep stretch of him inside you. The weight of his cock buried so completely makes your pulse quicken, every inch of him filling you to the point of delicious, unbearable pressure. You don’t trust your voice to speak, so you bite your lip and just nod again, hoping it’s enough of an answer to satisfy him.

“Thought so,” Lando murmurs, his tone dripping with that cocky satisfaction as he leans closer, letting his lips brush lightly against your ear. “Then we’ll stay just like this until the movie’s over.” He lets the words sink in, his hands settling on your hips, his fingers splayed possessively across your skin as if to ensure you don’t even think about moving.

You stiffen slightly in his grasp, realizing with a mix of frustration and need that he’s serious. The movie, still playing in the background, might as well be a world away for all you’re aware of it. You don’t even know what’s happening on screen, and other than hearing constant screams of bloody murder, your focus is completely swallowed by the way he fills you, every inch of your body screaming for him to move, to give you more. But then you hear him shuffle as he picks up the remote, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“And since you weren’t paying attention,” he continues, his tone dropping lower as his breath grazes your neck, “we’re going to start it over.”

With that, he presses the button, and the movie rewinds back to the beginning. His cock remains buried inside you, thick and unyielding. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest against your back, each breath you take making your body clench instinctively around him.

Lando’s hands slide up to your waist, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin as if to soothe you, but the grip is firm enough to keep you pinned exactly where he wants you. “Relax, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, “we’ve got all night.”

You try to relax, but the fullness of him inside you is maddening, a constant reminder of how badly you need more than just his cock sitting still inside you. You draw in a deep breath, hoping it will ease the ache between your legs, but all it does is make you more aware of the way he stretches you, every inch of him throbbing against your sensitive walls. It’s a sweet kind of torture, and Lando’s not giving you any mercy.

He shifts his hips slightly, just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to truly give you what you crave. The smallest of movements sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the pressure building with every passing second.

The movie restarts, its opening scenes flickering on the screen, but your attention is glued to the sensation of being completely filled, stretched so deep it almost feels like you can’t take it. Your body is tense, your hands gripping the edges of the couch as you struggle to stay still, every muscle in your thighs quivering from the effort.

“Come on, now,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening on your waist as he feels the way you’re fighting to keep from moving. “You can do better than that.” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice, a knowing edge that tells you he’s enjoying every second of this little game. His hand slides up to your chest, his touch imperceptibly light as he brushes over the curve of your breast over your shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “And neither are you.” He pauses, placing a kiss on your cheek. “So just sit there and take it, sweetheart,” he adds, his lips grazing your neck. “Because you’re not getting anything else until the credits roll.”

Your pulse races as you realize just how long he plans to keep you like this. The movie stretches ahead of you, nearly two hours of being held in place, filled to the brim, with nothing to do but feel every single inch of him.

“Unless…” His voice trails off as his hands slide down to spread your legs, effortlessly hooking them over his thighs. The new position makes you gasp, every inch of him shifting deeper inside. He chuckles softly at the sound, his fingers drifting to trace slowly over your slit, teasing the sensitive skin.

“Unless you can cum just like this,” he murmurs, dipping his head close so his breath fans over your ear. “With my cock stuffed deep inside you and my fingers playing with your pretty little clit.”

He drags his fingers lower, circling your entrance where you are stretched around his cock, before moving back up to your clit, brushing against it with the lightest touch. “If you can manage that,” he continues, his tone low and husky, “I might not make you wait until the end of the movie. I might just fuck you properly right here and now.”

His fingers swirl slowly, never quite giving you the pressure you need, just enough to make you ache for more. “But if you can’t…” he adds, a mischievous glint in his eye as he meets your gaze, “then you’ll just have to stay right there, sweetheart, filled and desperate, until those credits roll.”

His fingers continue their lazy circles over your clit, the teasing touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body that only intensify the ache deep inside. His gaze locks onto yours, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he watches every twitch, every shudder of your body. “Do you want that?” he asks, his voice a low murmur. “Do you want to be my good girl and cum just like this, with my cock buried so deep inside you?”

His fingers press just a little harder against your clit, a delicious contrast to the slow, steady throb of being stretched around him. “Or…” He lets the word hang in the air, his thumb now joining the motion, brushing against your swollen bud. “Would you rather keep struggling, knowing you’re not getting anything more until this movie is over?”

The way he’s looking at you—like he already knows the answer, like he’s daring you to beg—sends a fresh wave of heat curling through your belly.

You try to find the words, but they catch in your throat, your breath coming out in shallow pants. The pleasure thrumming through your body is too much and not nearly enough all at once, and the way his fingers move so leisurely over your clit is driving you to the edge of desperation. Without thinking, you lean back against him, seeking more contact, your head falling into the crook of his neck. The heat of his skin seeps into you, grounding you even as your pulse races.

Your hand lifts to his cheek, a quiet plea in the touch as your fingers trail along his jawline.

He hums in satisfaction at the way you press against him, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he takes his time with you. His fingers slide down, teasing your entrance again, feeling the way you stretch and pulse around his cock, before drifting back up to your clit, this time with a bit more pressure. The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to send a bolt of pleasure straight through you, making you gasp.

“I need words, love,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your back.

“Please, Lando,” The words slip out, breathless and unsteady, your legs trembling where they’re draped over his thighs, spread open and exposed for him.

“There we go,” he hums, “now watch the movie.” His fingers pick up a slow, deliberate rhythm, pressing down just enough to make you keen for more, but still holding back from what you truly crave.

You arch your back, pushing your hips forward as you pant against his neck, your body seeking every ounce of friction you can get. His other hand slips under your shirt, his palm finding the curve of your breast, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

He returned his gaze to the TV screen, but you can feel his focus remain solely on you, his fingers working expertly between your legs. He pinches your clit, hard enough to make you jolt against him, a breathy moan escaping your lips as you body arches.

He gives a small chuckle, the vibration against your back making your skin tingle. The casualness of his attention on the movie while playing your body like an instrument is maddening, only heightening the intensity of each pulse of pleasure.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice soft with a trace of amusement. “So needy.” He rolls your clit between his fingers, the motion slow, deliberate, and oh so devastating. You can’t help the way your hips buck up, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

His other hand slips away from your tits to tighten his hold on your hips, keeping you pinned against him, your legs splayed over his lap and unable to close.

“Stay still, love,” he instructs, adding a little more pressure. The sound of the movie plays on in the background, but it feels like a distant hum, utterly irrelevant next to the sensation of his fingers circling you again and again.

Your breaths are ragged, each one catching as he changes the rhythm, just enough to keep you on edge but never quite letting you fall over it. When his hand stills altogether, you whimper, your fingers curling against his arm in a wordless plea.

He drags his lips down the side of your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin there as his fingers resume their torment, rubbing over your clit in tight, firm circles that send sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You can feel your release building, that familiar tension tightening with each stroke, threatening to break at any moment.

“Beg for it,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg for me to let you cum.”

You can feel the subtle pulse of his cock as you clench down on it, matching the rhythm of his fingers as they torture your clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure.

His other hand slips up to cup your breast underneath your shirt, fingers teasing the sensitive peak. He pinches your nipple, rolling it between his fingers in time with the circles on your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. The double assault on your senses makes you gasp, your body trembling in his lap as he toys with you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you whimper, the word coming out breathless and broken. “Please, Lando, I need to cum.”

He hums in approval, his voice low and velvety in your ear. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his fingers working faster, rubbing your clit in tight, insistent circles that send sparks shooting down your spine. “Let me hear those pretty sounds,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction as he listens to your desperate moans, each one rising higher as you get closer to falling apart.

You can’t hold back any longer, your body arching into him as your release crashes over you, a wave of pure ecstasy that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers don’t stop, prolonging the pleasure until you’re a quivering mess, your walls clenching rhythmically around his cock as your climax wrings you dry.

The sensation of you tightening around him draws a deep, guttural groan from his throat, his breath hitching as he feels every pulse and flutter of your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the sound rough and strained as your release squeezes him from the inside, each wave of your pleasure making his cock throb. His hand on your breast tightens instinctively, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he savors the way you come undone for him, the way your body trembles and clings to him, desperate for more even as you’re falling apart.

“That’s it, love,” he groans again, his voice thick with need, the sound vibrating against your ear. “Just like that… feel so good wrapped around me.” His hips twitch subtly, the movement causing his cock to press even deeper, making your body jolt with the lingering aftershocks as his fingers finally begin to slow, drawing out the last delicious pulses of your release.

A sudden scream from the movie startles you both, breaking the heated moment. You can’t help but chuckle, your voice still a little breathless. “I think we should turn that off,” you say, glancing toward the TV.

“Really?” Lando’s teasing tone makes you smile. “Thought you said you liked horror movies.” He’s still inside you, and you playfully clench around him, earning a low groan that rumbles through his chest.

“Not more than your cock,” you reply, arching an eyebrow as you throw the challenge back at him. “Now, are you going to properly fuck me or not?”

Without missing a beat, Lando grabs the remote and switches off the movie, the room plunging into quiet anticipation. His hands find your waist as he lifts you off his cock, leaving you momentarily empty and aching for him again. Before you can protest, he swiftly throws you over his shoulder, a hand coming down to smack your ass playfully as he heads toward the bedroom.

You laugh, the excitement bubbling up inside you as he carries you with ease, your fingers digging into his back for support. “You’d better not keep me waiting,” you warn, your voice filled with playful impatience.

“Don’t worry, love,” he replies, a grin evident in his tone. “You’re about to get everything you’ve been begging for.”

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[creamflix]

SHE SAID WHAT?! — gender neutral reader  featuring: nanami kento, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna content warnings: established relationship. workplace venting, mentions of murder, pure fluff & crack — masterlist here ☆

"and then, she just took the credit," you huffed, burrowing deeper into kento’s chest as he absently rubbed slow circles on your back. "like, i’m the one who stayed late, again, but suddenly it’s all her idea? unbelievable."

kento hummed softly, his chin resting atop your head. he had been his usual calm and comforting self, letting you unload the stress of the day without interruption.

"and my manager — useless as always," you continued, gesturing dramatically in frustration. "he didn’t even say anything! just nodded along like a bobblehead and let her steal my work. can you believe that?"

"sounds like your manager has no backbone."

you blinked, tilting your head up to look at him. "you’re… not wrong, but — wait, did you just… agree with me?"

he quirked an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. "of course. you’re right. your work should be acknowledged properly."

"i mean, yeah, it should," you said, sitting up a little, surprised by his uncharacteristic input. "but — wow, i wasn’t expecting you to actually comment."

"did you think i wasn’t listening?" he asked, and you felt a twinge of guilt at his tone, soft but pointed.

"no, no! it’s just — you don’t usually…" you trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it.

"interject?" he offered, his smirk now more pronounced. "maybe i just decided that this time warranted a response."

you let out a dramatic sigh, dropping back into his chest. "i guess it’s because it’s been driving me crazy, and you’re the only one who actually listens without dismissing me."

his arms tightened around you slightly. "it’s not just listening. i understand your frustration," he said simply.

you tilted your head back to squint at him. "so, what? you’re my emotional support and my husband now?"

"if that's what you need," he replied, deadpan, though the faint gleam in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

"ugh, you’re too perfect sometimes," you grumbled, but you couldn’t help the little smile tugging at your lips.

"hardly," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "but if my occasional commentary keeps you sane, i’m happy to oblige."

"you’re gonna spoil me," you teased, poking his side.

"only the way you deserve," he said, his voice low and warm, pulling you back into his embrace.

"and then, jason said he deserved the promotion because he ‘inspires the team,’" you scoffed, leaning against the arm of the couch while choso sat cross-legged on the floor beside you. “which is funny, considering the only thing he inspires is resentment.”

choso nodded, his dark eyes fixed on you intently, and you thought he was just listening — until he reached over, grabbed a little notepad from the coffee table, and scribbled something down.

"wait, are you writing this down?" you asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"yeah," he said matter-of-factly, not even looking up from his notes.

"why?" you asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

"so I don’t forget who’s who," he said simply, his tone as earnest as ever. "your stories have a lot of… moving parts. jason, cody, miya —" he paused, flipping back a page. "and your manager, who doesn’t step in when things get tense?"

your jaw dropped. "you remembered that?"

"of course," he replied, tilting his head like it was obvious. "you tell me these things, so i want to make sure i understand. otherwise, how am i supposed to keep up when you bring it up again?"

you blinked at him, momentarily speechless. "cho, you don’t… have to remember all this. it’s just dumb office stuff."

"it’s not dumb if it’s bothering you," he said simply, setting the notepad down and turning to look at you properly. "besides, it’s… interesting."

"interesting?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

he shrugged. "it’s like a soap opera. but real. i don’t understand why humans… argue so much, but it’s kind of fascinating. like, jason thinking he deserves a promotion —" he gestured vaguely, his lips quirking upward slightly. "what did he call himself? inspirational? sounds delusional to me."

you let out a surprised laugh. "you’re not wrong. but you seriously don’t have to do this," you insisted, pointing at the notepad.

"i want to," he said, his voice so gentle and sincere it made your chest ache. "it matters to you, so it matters to me. and if writing it down helps me remember, what’s the harm?"

you stared at him for a long moment before finally sliding off the couch to sit beside him on the floor, wrapping your arms around him. "you’re too sweet, you know that?"

he blinked, his ears faintly pink. "i just�� want to be helpful."

"you’re more than helpful," you murmured against his shoulder. "but just so you know, i’m gonna keep roasting jason, and i’m not apologizing for it."

"noted," he said, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he actually reached for the notepad to jot it down.

"and then — ugh, this part kills me — he had the nerve to tell stacy she should 'smile more' during meetings," you said, waving your hands in exasperation. "like, the audacity!"

toji, sprawled out on the couch with an arm behind his head, cocked an eyebrow. "what's his name?"

"what?"

"the guy. what's his name?" he asked, his tone too casual, which you’d learned was a bad sign.

"toji, no," you said immediately, glaring at him.

"what? ’m just askin'."

"no, you’re not. you’re plotting. don’t think i don’t know that look."

he grinned, sharp and easy. "baby, i’m not gonna do anything… serious."

"your definition of 'serious' is murder," you deadpanned.

he shrugged, unabashed. "what can i say? i’m a problem-solver."

"tojiiiiii," you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "you can’t just go around beating people up because they’re assholes."

"why not? sounds efficient to me," he said, stretching lazily like this was a perfectly reasonable argument.

"because i can’t go back to work and pretend nothing happened when the HR guy’s in the hospital with a broken nose," you shot back.

"you could," he said, smirking. "you’re a good actress when you need to be."

"toji!"

"fine, fine," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never left his face. "but if he does anything else, let me know. i’ll make it look like an accident."

"you’re impossible," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"hey, i’m just lookin' out for my girl. and gotta protect the other ladies as well," he said with a casual shrug, but his tone was surprisingly sincere.

you stared at him for a beat. "you realize being a girl’s girl doesn’t usually involve violence, right?"

"eh," he said, waving it off. "’m an innovator."

"more like a liability," you muttered under your breath, but despite your exasperation, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"liability or not," he said, leaning in close, his grin softer now, "you know i’d take care of anyone who messes with you, right?"

you rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway. "yeah, i know. but maybe… let’s aim for less jail time next time you feel protective, okay?"

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "no promises."

"and then she has the nerve to say my presentation lacked creativity, like, excuse me —"

"who is this again?" sukuna interrupts, lounging back against the headboard with his arms crossed.

"jules. i’ve mentioned her a million times — she’s the one who —"

"don’t care," he cuts you off, his tone flat as his crimson eyes flick over to you. "why are you wasting your breath on her?"

"i’m not wasting my breath! i’m venting," you huff, turning to glare at him. "it’s called being in a relationship. you listen to your partner’s frustrations, even if it’s not directly your problem."

he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "you’re frustrated over a bug you can squash under your shoe. why bother letting her live rent-free in your head?"

"it’s not that simple! i can’t just… ignore her. i have to work with her," you explain, crossing your arms.

"not for long," sukuna mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips.

you narrow your eyes at him. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"nothing," he says smoothly, but there’s a dangerous glint in his gaze that makes you suspicious.

"kuna…"

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "look, i don’t see the point in talking about insignificant humans. it’s tedious, and honestly, beneath you. why let them get to you when they’re not even worth a second of your time?"

"because, unfortunately, they’re there," you snap. "not everyone gets to waltz through life on their own terms, terrorizing whoever they want."

"that’s your first mistake," he says smugly.

you open your mouth to retort, but the next day at work, you notice something strange. jules' desk is eerily empty.

"weird," you mutter to yourself. "she didn’t say anything about taking a day off."

the day after that? still empty. the third day? HR sends an email that jules has "stepped down unexpectedly."

you stare at the screen, slack-jawed.

when you confront sukuna later, he’s reclining on the couch like he owns the place (which, let’s be real, he kinda does), looking waayy too pleased with himself.

"you wouldn’t happen to know anything about jules suddenly leaving, would you?"

he smirks, not even bothering to hide it. "told you she wasn’t worth your time."

"sukuna!"

"what? i didn’t lay a finger on her."

"then what did you do?" you demand.

he leans forward, his grin sharp and teasing. "just helped her realize she wasn’t cut out for the job. gave her a little… encouragement to pursue other paths."

you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. "i can’t believe you. you can’t just go around scaring my coworkers off!"

"worked, didn’t it?" he says, utterly unbothered. "now, can we stop talking about work and focus on something that actually matters?"

"suku —"

"like what’s for dinner," he interrupts, flashing you a toothy grin.

you hate that you’re already planning to let it slide.

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[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

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

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely I’m not sure if you are taking requests right now but if you are can I request EMT!Marauders with a reader who has POTS (basically they’re always dehydrated, low blood pressure, and can faint if they don’t drink lots of water and electrolytes) and is lazy about drinking so much liquids everyday until she’s dizzy with a bad headache and the boys have to constantly ask her has she drank her Gatorade and water. Hope that makes sense😅 Totally understand if you don’t write it. Love your work! <3

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: reader has POTS, dehydration, the pressures of capitalism

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 382 words

When your phone rings, it takes a couple of tries to get your shaky fingers to accept the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, dovey.” Remus sounds tired. This strikes you as appropriate, ten hours into a twelve-hour shift. 

Sympathy bends your voice. “Hi, honey. How’s it going?” 

“Not terribly. Long day, though.” 

You can hear someone jostling their way closer to the phone, and then Sirius shouts, “It is terrible! We miss you!” 

You smile, cupping the phone close to your face when a woman sitting near you glances over.

“Yes, that too, of course,” Remus says. “Anyway, we just called to ask how you are.” 

“How I am?” 

“Mhm. James had a feeling” —in the background, you can hear James insist, “My sixth sense is never wrong, Rem”— “and we wanted to check in on you. Where are you right now?” 

You keep your voice cautiously low. “I’m at a coffee shop. Just getting some things done.” 

“And how much water have you had?” 

You sigh. You want to be indignant about this, but you’re suddenly aware of a dull ache at your temples. “I’ve been drinking water,” you hedge. 

Your boyfriend hums skeptically. “How much, dove?” 

“Rem, I’m at a coffee shop.” You cast a furtive glance at the baristas. “I don’t want to whip out my own water bottle when I’ve already finished the drink I paid for.” 

“Fainting is going to draw a lot more attention than drinking your own water,” he points out. When you hesitate, his tone gentles. “You could always order a water from the counter if that makes you feel better. You just need to drink more, sweetheart. You’re already feeling a bit dizzy, yeah?” 

You catch yourself pouting even though none of your boys are there to see. “A little.” 

“I can hear it in your voice,” he says. A new sound starts up in the background of the call, loud and wailing, but Remus’ voice doesn’t change. “Drink something, now. Two bottles at least.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “Wait, is that the siren? Are you guys on a call?”

Sirius steals the phone again. “If you don’t start downing some fluids, this siren is coming for you. Got that?” 

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t hear it. “Yeah. Got it.” 

[flwrstqr]

✦ HOW SWEET DOES IT TASTES? ⸻ 엔하이픈 OT7 𓈒 ˒ ── 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒.

﹙ 𝓹𝐥𝐨𝐭 ♡𝓹𝐫é𝐜𝐢𝐬 crush!enha x fem!r. 𖥔fluff ot7 works based on that horimiya scene,‎⸝⸝⸝ kissing, not proofread wordcount` 812. 𓈃 ◌⠀⠀˖ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𓏵⠀

! feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated and encouraged! PLS REBLOG ♡

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

you pop the candy into your mouth, expecting sweetness but getting an overpowering burst of licorice instead. your nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, and you struggle not to spit it out. heeseung, standing close by, notices your expression and raises an eyebrow.

"what flavor is it?" he asks, curiosity lacing his tone.

"licorice," you manage to mumble.

without warning, heeseung leans in, his lips brushing yours as he steals the candy from your mouth. his lips are soft and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. when he pulls back, he grins, savoring the licorice.

"not my favorite, either," he says plainly as if he didn't kiss you.

rest of the members below !!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

you put the candy into your mouth, expecting sweetness but getting an unexpected burst of sour grape instead. you give a sour expression. jay, standing nearby, notices your expression and smirks.

"what flavor is it?" he asks, amusement in his voice.

"sour grape," you reply, wincing.

without a moment's hesitation, jay steps closer, his lips meeting yours in a swift. he kisses you deeply, his tongue gently stealing the candy from your mouth. his hand cupping your cheek. when he finally pulls back, he smirks, the sour grape now his.

"not bad," he says, eyes glinting with mischief.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

you pop the candy into your mouth, expecting a fruity burst but instead getting an overpowering wave of bitter lemon. you can't help but wrinkle your nose. jake, who's been watching you, laughs softly.

"what's wrong? bad flavor?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"bitter lemon," you mumble, trying to endure the taste.

jake steps closer, his hand gently tilting your chin up. "let me help," he whispers.

before you can react, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet firm kiss. his tongue slips past your lips, capturing the candy and mingling with the bitter lemon taste. when he finally pulls back, he holds the candy between his teeth, grinning.

"much better," he says, winking playfully.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth, expecting a burst of sweetness. instead, you're hit with an intense wave of bitter coffee. sunghoon, lounging nearby, catches your expression and raises an eyebrow.

"bad flavor?" he asks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"bitter coffee," you mutter, grimacing.

sunghoon stands and strides over, curiosity in his eyes. "let me try something."

before you can respond, he cups your face gently and leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, unexpected kiss. his hand resting lightly on your neck. when he finally pulls back, he savors the candy for a moment before making a face.

"definitely strange," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with a playful glint.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 (김선우)

you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth, you're hit with an overwhelming taste of salty licorice. you gag slightly, trying to hide your facial expression. sunoo, who’s been watching you from across the room, laughs out loud.

"what kind of flavor is that?" he asks, walking over with a grin.

"salty licorice," you manage to say, struggling to keep it down.

sunoo's eyes sparkle with mischief. "let me taste it,"

he leans in, his hand gently cradling your cheek, and kisses you softly. when he pulls back, he holds the candy between his teeth, giving you a playful wink.

"better me than you," he says with a laugh, the salty licorice still in his mouth. "next time, let's pick something sweeter."

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 (양정원)

you pop the candy into your mouth, and immediately, a wave of regret hits you. the taste of pickle-flavored candy makes your nose wrinkle in disgust. jungwon, your crush, notices and asks with a smirk, "what flavor did you get?"

before you can answer, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours as he steals the candy from your mouth. the unexpected kiss sending a jolt of electricity through you. when he pulls away, he raises an eyebrow and grins.

"pickle? that's... unique," he says, laughing softly. your heart flutters, the taste of the candy now forgotten in the warmth of his kiss.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 (西村力)

you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth. you're surprised by an intense burst of sour lemon. your face twists in a mixture of surprise and mild discomfort. riki, noticing your reaction from across the room, raises an eyebrow with concern.

"is everything okay?" he asks, stepping closer.

"sour lemon," you reply, trying to mask your distaste.

before you can protest, he leans in, his hand gently holding your chin as his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. the kiss lingers for a moment, warm and reassuring, before he pulls back with a smile.

"there," he says softly, holding the candy between his fingers. "better?"

[noxiwrites]

Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.6k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

Class the next week rolls around quicker than you would like. You’re a bundle of nerves, bookbag slipping off your shoulder more times than you’d like. You’re wearing one of your usual outfits, but it doesn’t stop Molly from wiggling her eyebrows at you as you meet her outside the classroom.

She hands you your coffee. “Dressing up are we?” Her tone is nothing but suggestive and it makes you wonder if you subconsciously dressed like this without realising, but you’re pulled from your thoughts with her giggling.

“I’m taking the piss, I can see those cogs turning. I love how you dress,” she grasps your arm in a playful manner as you both walk into class, Molly dragging you to a seat at the bottom of the seats instead of where you usually sit.

Your brows furrow in confusion but Molly just shoos you into the seat at the end of the desk, taking the one next to you. She leans closer, whispering so only you can hear her.

“He’s gonna go insane looking at that tiny little skirt all day long,” you gasp, hands pressed to the desk as you shoot her a disgusted look, trying to stand. Molly pulls you back down as students begin to fill the classroom, yapping away about something her boyfriend did the previous night, completely forgetting the subject at hand.

You drop your chin into the palm of your hand, watching as Rafe emerges from the door that leads to his office. His eyes scan the room- looking for you, you think- before the drop down to the bottom level and he smiles. Until his eyes catch your legs under the table, and the smile fades very quickly. He gulps and looks away, busying himself on his laptop.

You wonder if you’ve done anything wrong until Molly grasps your arm and practically squeals into your ear. “He’s so totally into you! Did you see how he looked at your legs?” It’s your turn to gulp, eyes watching as his biceps strain against the polo he’s chosen to wear today.

“It’s nothing, Mol. You’re seeing things,” you mumble, as the final few people stumble into class.

“Welcome in guys, we’re uh- doing some paperwork today in preparation for your upcoming exam,” Rafe takes a stack of thick papers off his desk, moving towards yours and Molly's table first. He passes Molly her paper no problem but when it comes to you, he slowly places it in front of you, lingering for longer than he should do.

Then he moves on, like nothing happened, handing out papers to the rest of the class. Molly practically smashes her knee against yours under the table and you roll your eyes, opening the paper.

The class drags on for what seems like forever as you can barely focus on your paper- stealing glances up at Rafe who’s doing anything but look at the class, his head buried in a book so deep you wonder if he’s trying to disappear.

When the end of the class eventually comes, Rafe places his book on his desk and beings to bid everyone farewell. The majority of the class rush out like usual, passing their papers to Rafe as he stands by the door. You’re still packing with Molly when Kendra saunters down the stairs, purposely swaying her hips in the shortest skirt you’ve seen.

You have to suppress the urge to call her a slut as she passes you- dropping her paper behind her. You look over at Rafe and see him watching, otherwise unbothered until Kendra lets out an “oops, dropped my paper,” and bends over to pick it up.

You can see Rafe immediately close his eyes as she flashes all she’s got, taking her time picking up her paper before grinning and skipping over to Rafe. She places it on top of his pile, hands lingering for a little too long.

“Sorry, Rafey, dropped it. Didn't mean to,” you can see her blinking up at him, trying to act all innocent but you’re pretty sure you can hear her eyelashes trying to take off in flight.

Rafe clears his throat, nodding down at her as she finally leaves.

“Can you believe that whore?” Molly asks, louder than you’d have liked her to. It alerts Rafe to your presence and he sighs, walking over to his desk and taking a seat.

“Anyway, got to go see Ryan, love you,” she kisses you on the cheek and passes you her paper, winking before dashing out of the door. You internally curse her before taking a shaky step toward Rafe’s desk, papers in hand. He smiles up at you, opening his hand to take them from your grasp.

“So, did you think about my offer?” He asks and you nod almost immediately, watching the smile grow on his face. “And?” He begins to flip through your paper.

“I’d like the help, sir,” you find your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes scanning your own paper to try and spot mistakes before he does. Rafe freezes, and you wonder what for, but it doesn’t last long before his eyes are meeting your own again.

“Great, we’ll review your paper in my office,” he stands, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Now?” You quip, shuffling your bag on your shoulder. Rafe nods, opening the door and standing in the doorway and waiting for you to walk through.

You were scared of what would happen behind that closed door, thinking back to your conversation with Molly. If he did make a move, would you reciprocate? You weren’t sure. You’d hoped it was just studying, but with the way he was looking at you right now you couldn’t be certain if those were his only intentions.

You let out a small thank you as you head into the office, which is small and dimly lit by a lamp on the desk in the middle of the room. There’s loads of pictures of him and two girls in frames all around the room, family, you think.

Rafe shuts the door behind him and you’re not sure if you hear the soft click of the lock before he’s moving around you, to get to his side of the desk. His gaze is burning as you take a seat across from him and he settles the paper inbetween the two of you.

You’re graciously aware of how his knees are surrounding your own underneath the table and it makes you feel so weird- but you don’t move.

“So, I think when you’re including these formula in your papers, you’re lacking the explanation as to how you got the formula,” he begins and you nod, hands resting at the edge of the table.

His own fingers glide across the paper as he reads your writings, before stopping on one of your explanation paragraphs.

“This is a perfect example. You’re explaining the formula and how it gives me that answer but you’re not telling me how you figure out the beginning,” he leans closer, pushing the paper towards you to show what he means- knees brushing against your thighs as he does so.

The notion doesn’t disturb him but it sends a jolt through you, gasping as you try to push your legs closer together. Rafe’s eyes lock onto your own, sparkling up at you.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” You respond straight away, heart beating a thousand miles an hour. He grins, moving on with the paper.

You look around the office again, trying to calm your heart down. “How old are you?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, looking at a picture of him with longer hair, the two same girls from other photos present in this one.

Rafe laughs, hearty as he leans back in his chair. “Twenty seven,” you almost gasp again, but push it back down as you compose yourself.

“You don’t look twenty seven,” you say, voice uneven. You hope he doesn’t notice, but the smirk on his face paints a different story. He notices you looking at the picture of him with longer hair.

“I was 20 in that photo, home for the holidays for Christmas,” you notice him adorning a Christmas jumper and nod, feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment course through you as you look back down at the paper.

“The uh, paper?” You question, and Rafe shakes his head. “Everything else is okay, I’ve already looked.”

You nod, drumming your fingers against the desk.

“Okay, so-” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting all skittish,” he folds his arms over his chest and you have to fight yourself to not look at his biceps. You nod at him, deciding it’s a good enough answer to give.

“See, I think I know what’s wrong. You’re getting all hot and flustered because you’re in a room with me,” he concludes and you’re sure, if it were possible, your eyes would pop out of your head. You’ve never shook your head so fast, watching as Rafe smirks, leaning forward to place his crossed arms on the desk.

“Im just messing with you,” he laughs, and you’re unsure for a second if he actually is messing with you, hands gripping the edge of your skirt so much that your hands almost turn white.

Finally, you breathe, collecting your thoughts as you feel Rafe’s eyes burning into you.

“You’re very beautiful when you’re nervous,” he murmurs, hand reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Not joking. So not joking. He’s not joking.

Your heartbeat picks up the pace again as his hand lingers there, thousands of emotions running through you at once. Your eyes meet his own and he finally drops his hand, letting his fingers dance across the edge of the table. You can’t help but watch, cheeks scarlet.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asks, fingers dancing closer to you. You shake your head again, wishing you could be anywhere but here. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening right now.

“I think I do, look at you. Poor little thing, can’t even speak,” his hand begins to play with the edge of your coat, thumbing the material.

“I uh- I’m not sure what’s happening,” you squeak out and Rafe laughs, leaning back in his chair. He runs a hand over his face like he’s composing himself before shuffling down the chair, legs enveloping your own more than you thought possible.

“Nothing, nothings happening, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’ve never left an office so fast. Flustered, warm, legs shuffling together to try and alleviate some of the pressure building up. Nothing helps. You dash to your car, desperate to get home and rot in bed for a while.

You literally couldn’t think, brain fuzzy, and it baffles you as you pull up outside your apartment that you’re actually home, because you don’t remember driving there.

Slumping back into the seat, you turn the ignition off and wipe a hand over your face.

What. The. Fuck.

Molly is the first person to know. You’re sure she breaks fifteen road traffic laws to get over to your place, and when she finally arrives, she practically flies through your front door and into the kitchen where you’re cooking and nursing a bottle of wine.

No glass.

“Tell. Me. Everything,” she heaves out, grasping her chest as she leans against the doorway of the kitchen. You’re stirring the pasta, before turning around and finally grabbing some glasses for the wine.

“I found out he’s twenty seven- oh and he finds me beautiful apparently,” Mollys eyes widen, taking a seat at the opposite side of your kitchen island, hands wrapping around her glass.

“I told you girl! Did you shag him? Oh my god if you did..” she trails off, looking at your stone face and white knuckles wrapped around the spoon.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“I froze up. I literally couldn’t do anything if I wanted to, Molly. I’ve never been like this around a guy before,” you tell her and she nods, eyes glazed over with thought.

“It’s like he completely pulled back though? Like he had a clear thought and just stopped, and then I left,” you finish. Maybe it’s because he remembered how wrong it was, or that you were his student, or that there’s a seven year gap between the two of you.

You’re not sure if that’s the truth. You’ve know this man for three days, and the first time you’re alone with him you can barely speak. You have to rationalise your thoughts- he is just another pretty face to you, but you can help but turn all mushy when he’s near.

Its attraction. Like when you see somebody in the street and think they’re hot- but this must go deeper because you’ve never frozen in the middle of the street when you see a hot guy.

“You’re just really attracted to him and it’s obvious he is to you too. I think you just need to shag him,” Molly announces, sprinkling some cheese on top of her pasta.

You scoff, twirling pasta around your own fork. “I do not want to shag the teacher,” Molly knows you’re lying, and somehow, so do you.

“Yeah and I can fly, if we’re both lying,” Molly mumbles, as she grabs your tv remote to turn on some background noise. “I think you should just shag him, see how you feel,” she puts a nonsensical reality tv show on, turning back to you.

It’s like a battle with yourself. One minute you’re sure you’re not attracted to him, you’ve not known him long enough, but then all of a sudden you’re reminding yourself how mushy he makes you feel- and now you know he wants you too.

You don’t know what to do.

You don’t go to class the next morning. You can’t, can’t look him in the eyes- or maybe you can’t watch Kendra flirt with him again, you’re not sure.

Instead, you spend the day at home, mulling around in bed, tv quietly playing in the background. Whiskers is with you, not having left your side all day and you’re thankful.

Your phone dings, after being mostly quiet all day so you pick it up to see a barrage of texts from Molly.

He asked where you were

Seemed quite pissed that you weren’t in

Kendra tried to flirt with him and he basically told her to fuck off

Girl this man is obsessed

I’ve just left and he asked me to make sure you’re in next week

He wants you for real

Her texts make you feel sick. He wants you for real. The last text replays over and over in your head, making you feel dizzy. Maybe Molly was right, maybe you should try sex with him and see how you feel. Maybe it was just that, you were just very horny for him.

But then, that would make you like everyone else in your class, specifically Kendra, and you didn’t like how that made you feel.

You’d just have to go to class on Monday and see.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Whoa. I’m trying not to move it too fast 🥲🔫 Mayhaps a little bit of something mischievous next chapter!

Check out a teaser for a new series here <3

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

@dudenhaaa27 @outerbankspov @ayy1234567 @rxfecameronsslut @potter-head-phanatic @lilithblackkk

[elikajinnie]

Steal Your Way To My Heart - N.R (Part 2)

P: Bankrobber! Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Pursuing, Obsession, Jealousy, Mentioned Murder, Possessiveness, Flirting, A tiny bit of manipulation, Ni-ki just wanna spoil you.

Synopsis: Your life was boring—until a visit to the bank changes everything. Now you find yourself under the attention of one of the criminals. Now what do you do when the criminal's attention isn't just on the job but on you?

a/n: part 2 was HIGHLY requested... soooo here it is!! :D i wrote this instead of studying..

part 1 here

--

After meeting Ni-ki at the club, there had been nothing from him. No texts, no calls, no slyly delivered gifts. Just silence.

Radio silence from him for days.

At first, you told yourself it was a relief, finally some peace from his attention. But eventually that relief began to feel less like freedom and more like… emptiness.

Every time you grabbed your phone, your thumb hovered over the screen, the urge to text him stronger than you wanted to admit. But then you’d stop, heart sinking with a mixture of shame and stubbornness. What would it even say about you if you were the one to reach out first? Ni-ki had always been the one to text first, always the one pushing, teasing, pulling.

And now, without him doing that, everything just felt weird. Off.

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. The silence was eating you up in ways you hadn’t expected. It was ridiculous. Stupid. He was a criminal. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him, let alone missing him. But here you were, feeling that strange, hollow ache in your chest every time your phone didn’t buzz with a message.

And you hated how much it mattered to you.

The hours stretched on, the silence suffocating. No matter how much you tried to distract yourself, Ni-ki lingered in your thoughts. His smirk, his voice, the way he looked at you—it was all on an endless loop in your mind.

You’d find yourself overanalyzing every interaction you’d had with him. Did you say something wrong? Did your rejection at the club finally push him away? Was this… it?

You rolled over on the couch, staring blankly at the TV that played some mindless show you weren’t even paying attention to. Your phone sat on the coffee table, and you glared at it like it had personally betrayed you.

Why was this bothering you so much?

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the phone, your fingers hesitating over the screen. Maybe just a casual message? Something simple? But no matter how many times you typed something, it all sounded wrong.

Why haven’t you texted me? Is this some game to you? Are you okay?

You groaned, deleting every draft. Nothing felt right. Besides, if you texted him first, it would be admitting you cared. And wasn’t that the one thing you swore you wouldn’t do?

But as the days passed, the emptiness only grew. Even your friends noticed your distracted state, asking if you were okay. You lied, of course, brushing it off as stress or lack of sleep. How could you explain that you were hung up on a guy who was a literal criminal?

On the eleventh day of silence, you finally caved.

Just as you were about to type out a message, your phone buzzed in your hand. Your heart jumped, hope flaring so quickly it scared you. And when you saw his name, or rather the cryptic alias he used in your phone, pop up on the screen, you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

"Miss me yet?"

Your lips parted, a mix of annoyance and something dangerously close to joy bubbling up. Of course, he’d break the silence with something like that.

You stared at the message for a moment before typing back, fingers flying across the screen.

"What happened to you? Finally get bored?"

His response came almost immediately.

"Bored? Never. Just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to crack."

Your jaw dropped, a wave of irritation hitting you.

"You’re insufferable" you shot back.

"And you’re cute when you’re annoyed" he replied, followed by a winking emoji.

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

"Don’t disappear like that again" you typed before you could stop yourself, your heart pounding as you hit send.

The pause between his messages felt like forever, but when his reply came, it made your chest tighten.

"Don’t worry, doll. I’m not going anywhere."

You leaned back against the couch, phone clutched in your hand, staring at his last message before you typed out a reply.

"Good. Because it was getting kind of quiet without you annoying me."

The typing bubble popped up instantly, and somehow, that made you feel lighter.

"Admit it. You missed me."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Don’t flatter yourself."

His reply came quick, like he was waiting on your response.

"Too late. Flattering myself is kind of my thing."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head as you typed back.

"That’s obvious. But seriously… what have you been doing?"

There was a slight pause this time, and when his message came through, you could almost hear his voice in your head.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

You sighed, fighting the urge to play into his games.

"Yes, actually. That’s why I’m asking."

"Touché."

A few seconds passed, and then another message came through.

"Let’s just say I had some… work to take care of. But I’m all yours now."

Your heart skipped at his words, and you hated the way your stomach flipped at such a simple line.

"All mine, huh? That’s bold for someone who disappeared for almost a week."

"Bold is my middle name, sweetheart."

You snorted at that, trying not to imagine his cocky grin.

"Sure it is. Anyway, why’d you text me tonight?"

His response was instant again.

"Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you."

Your breath hitched, and you blinked at the screen, unsure how to respond. Before you could type anything, another message came through.

"Don’t look so shocked. You’re pretty unforgettable."

"You can’t even see me right now."

"I don’t need to. I know exactly how you’re reacting."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the blush spreading across your face.

"You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are, still talking to me."

You didn’t have a comeback for that. The conversation kept flowing, his words teasing yet always laced with something that felt too genuine to be ignored. Every time you thought it would end, he sent another message.

"Still awake?"

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"What’s your favorite place to get coffee?"

The questions weren’t just idle small talk. They felt intentional, like he wanted to learn every little thing about you.

And you let him.

You answered every question, sometimes throwing one back at him, and the hours ticked by faster than you realized. By the time you glanced at the clock, it was well past midnight.

"You’re keeping me up" you finally typed, even though you weren’t really upset.

"Not my fault I`m fun to talk to" he replied.

"You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming, I know."

You laughed softly, shaking your head as your fingers hovered over the screen.

"Goodnight, Ni-ki."

The reply came almost instantly.

"Goodnight, doll. Dream about me."

You set your phone down with a sigh, but with a smile on your face.

--

It had been a slow day at work, the kind where you counted down the hours and prayed for something to happen. But you weren’t exactly expecting him to walk through the doors.

Ni-ki strolled in casually, hands stuffed into his pockets, but it was impossible to miss the dark bruise across his cheekbone or the small cut at the corner of his lip. His usual cocky demeanor was still intact, though—shoulders back, head high, like he hadn’t been in some sort of fight.

Your eyes widened as you instinctively took a step toward him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He shrugged. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

You gave him an incredulous look, quickly closing the distance between you. Your hands moved on their own as you gently touched the side of his face, your fingers brushing against the bruised skin. He winced slightly but didn’t pull back, his gaze steady on yours.

“Ni-ki, this isn’t nothing. Who did this to you?”

He tilted his head, clearly enjoying your concern. “You worried about me, doll?”

You huffed, pulling your hands back. “Of course, I’m worried! You look like you got hit by a truck.”

His smirk widened. “Not a truck. Just some idiots who thought they could take us down. We had a little… disagreement.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “A disagreement?”

“Yeah, you know, some guys in another town thought they could muscle in on our business.” He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “Let’s just say they won’t be trying that again.”

Your stomach twisted at the implication, but the relief that he was standing here in one piece outweighed everything else. “Are you okay?” you asked softly.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the sincerity in your voice. Then, that smug grin of his returned. “You’re really worried about me, huh? I knew you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping back, but before you could retreat any further, his hands shot out and grabbed yours. His grip was firm but gentle as he pulled you close, so close you could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t pull away,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I kinda like it when you fuss over me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. “I’m not fussing. I just—”

“You just care,” he finished for you, his lips turning into a softer smile. “It’s okay, you can admit it.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, you wanted to pull back, to regain some semblance of control over the situation, but something about the way he was looking at you made it impossible to move.

“Thanks for worrying about me,” he said quietly, his usual teasing tone replaced by something almost… genuine.

You swallowed hard, nodding slightly. “Just… be careful, okay?”

He grinned again, the playful Ni-ki back in full force. “Careful’s not really my thing, doll. But for you, I’ll try.”

You sighed, trying to focus on getting your work done, but you could feel his eyes on you. Ni-ki hadn’t left, of course. He leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, like he had all the time in the world to loiter around and watch you. Every now and then, you’d glance up, only to find him smiling at you with that infuriatingly smug expression.

You huffed, brushing past him with a stack of folded clothes, determined to ignore him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you asked, not bothering to look at him as you placed the clothes neatly on a display table.

“Not really,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, recovering or something? You’re walking around like you didn’t just get into a fight.”

Ni-ki chuckled, his voice low. “I’m tougher than I look, doll. Besides…” He trailed off, and when you turned to glare at him, you caught him staring again, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach flip. “You make a great distraction.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you moved to another rack. But even as you tried to focus on reorganizing the clothes, you couldn’t help but feel the heat of his presence. He was so close, always just within arm’s reach, and the empty store wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Do you just follow me everywhere now?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“Not everywhere,” he replied, his voice dipping into something playful. “Just the places I know you’ll be.”

“Creepy much?”

He laughed at that, the sound rich and unbothered. “C’mon, admit it—you liked that I showed up.”

You turned to retort, but the look in his eyes stopped you. They were looking at you so fondly.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being with you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur.

The sincerity in his tone threw you off, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

Eunseo suddenly stepped out from the storage room, a bright smile plastered on her face as she noticed Ni-ki leaning casually against the counter. “Oh, hello there! Welcome to our store! Do you need any help?” she said, her voice taking on a tone that was just a bit too cheerful, her steps purposeful as she approached him.

Ni-ki, to his credit, barely acknowledged her, his dark eyes still lingering on you as if Eunseo didn’t exist. “I’m good, thanks,” he replied flatly.

But Eunseo didn’t seem to pick up on his disinterest—or maybe she just didn’t care. “Are you sure? We’ve got some great new items in stock. Maybe I can help you find something?” She gave a little laugh, leaning on the counter and tilting her head in a way that screamed flirting.

You stiffened, pretending to busy yourself with a rack of folded shirts, but your hands were a little too rough as you refolded them. The way she was looking at him, the way her voice dripped with sugary sweetness—it was irritating. And Ni-ki wasn’t exactly pushing her away, which only made it worse.

“Really, I’m fine,” Ni-ki said, his tone remaining neutral, though you noticed the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, come on,” Eunseo pressed, stepping even closer to him. “You’re just standing here all alone. Why not let me show you around? We’ve got some accessories that would look amazing on you.” Her hand brushed against his arm, and that was the final straw.

You slammed the shirts you were holding onto the rack a little louder than necessary, making both of them glance your way. “Eunseo,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm, though you could feel the heat of irritation bubbling beneath the surface, “don’t you have something to do in the back?”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by your tone. “Oh, um… I just thought I’d help out here. He looks like he could use—”

“I said,” you interrupted, your eyes locking with hers, “don’t you have something to do in the back?”

Eunseo hesitated for a moment before giving you a slightly puzzled look. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” she said and glanced back at Ni-ki as she retreated. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

When she was gone, you turned back to Ni-ki, who was now watching you with an amused expression.

“What?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

He raised his hands in mock defense, his smirk widening. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to get all territorial over me, doll.”

“I wasn’t being territorial,” you shot back, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure you weren’t,” he teased, stepping closer to you, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly low tone. “But for the record, I’m not interested in anyone else. You’ve got my full attention, whether you like it or not.”

You huffed, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words.

“Now, will you finally admit you like having me here?” he said with a grin, leaning in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

You groaned, shoving him lightly toward the door. “Get out before I regret not letting her deal with you.”

Ni-ki laughed, his voice rich and unbothered, but he allowed you to guide him toward the exit. Before he left, though, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “See you later, doll.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you to deal with the lingering embarrassment—and the undeniable fact that you did like having him around, no matter how much you tried to deny it.

--

The evening air was cold when you stepped out of the store, bag slung over your shoulder as you headed toward the bus stop.

You were halfway there when the low rumble of a car engine made you glance over your shoulder. A sleek black car slowing down to match your pace. The window rolled down, and you weren’t even surprised when you saw him—Ni-ki. His lazy smirk greeted you as he tilted his head.

“Need a ride?” he asked casually, his voice smooth and teasing.

You hesitated, clutching your bag tighter. “I’m fine. The bus is just up ahead.”

“Come on, doll,” he coaxed, resting one arm over the edge of the open window. “You really gonna make me watch you freeze out here? Just get in.”

You sighed, glancing around the empty street before finally relenting. “Fine,” you muttered, walking to the passenger side.

As you climbed in, the smell of leather and cologne hit you, mingled with the faint scent of mint. The interior was just as sleek as the exterior, glowing faintly from the purple neon underlighting. Ni-ki barely glanced at you as he started driving again, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, the sharp line of his jaw illuminated by the city lights. The way he gripped the wheel with one hand, the relaxed confidence —it was unfair how good he looked.

“See something you like?” he drawled, his tone playful.

You snapped your gaze forward, your cheeks heating. “No.”

“Liar,” he teased, and before you could respond, his hand slid from his thigh to yours, resting lightly. His thumb brushed against the fabric of your jeans, and the bubbling feeling in your stomach intensified.

“Ni-ki—” you started, your voice faltering.

He glanced at you briefly, his smirk deepening. “Relax, doll. Just making sure you’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” you echoed, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Very,” he said, squeezing your thigh gently before returning his focus to the road.

You stared at him, speechless, as his fingers stayed on your leg, warm and steady. The fluttering in your chest wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to will it away.

“So,” he said after a beat, his tone casual but still carrying that flirtatious edge, “how was your day? Other than me stealing all your attention at work, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, thankful for the change in subject. “It was fine. Slow, boring—until you showed up and made it worse.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You wound me, doll. But don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

You gave him a side-eye but said nothing, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

The car eventually pulled into the parking lot of a cozy yet elegant Japanese restaurant, the warm glow of lanterns hanging outside casting a soft light across the entrance. You furrowed your brow as Ni-ki parked and turned off the engine.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, your tone skeptical.

He leaned back in his seat and gave you a charming grin. “Dinner.”

You blinked at him. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, you and me,” he said nonchalantly, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

Before you could protest, he was out of the car and walking around to your side. He opened the door, holding it like a perfect gentleman, one hand resting casually on the top of the car as he peered down at you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Ni-ki, I didn’t agree to this.”

His face didn’t falter. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You didn’t say no, either.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way he was looking at you—smug yet so effortlessly charming—made you groan. “Fine,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and stepping out of the car.

He stepped back to give you space, closing the door behind you. “There’s my girl,” he said teasingly, earning a sharp glare from you.

He only chuckled as he led the way into the restaurant, holding the door open for you.

The interior was warm and inviting, the scent of freshly cooked dishes wafting through the air. The restaurant wasn’t overly extravagant, but it wasn’t casual either. It struck a balance between elegant and cozy.

Ni-ki guided you to a table in the corner, away from the more crowded areas. The staff seemed to know him, greeting him with familiarity as he nodded in return. You followed reluctantly, sitting down across from him.

“Seriously, Ni-ki, what’s all this about?” you asked, frowning at him as you placed your bag on the seat beside you.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with that easygoing confidence of his. “Figured you deserved something nice.”

You gave him a look, not buying it. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Exactly.” He smirked, leaning forward this time, resting his forearms on the table. “That, and I like spending time with you.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You looked away, pretending to study the menu placed in front of you.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, clearly amused by your flustered state. “Relax, doll. It’s just dinner.”

You bit back a retort, choosing instead to focus on the menu and your heart sank at the prices. Everything looked so luxurious—and expensive. You frowned, setting the menu down.

“Ni-ki,” you began hesitantly, “this place is... a bit much. I don’t think—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “Don’t even start.” His tone was firm yet playful. “You’re here because I brought you here. So, the meal’s on me. Order whatever you want.”

You still hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt. “I don’t know. Maybe I should just go for something simple—”

Ni-ki’s expression shifted, his lips pressing into a thin line as he gave you a mockingly disappointed look. “Really? After I go through all this trouble, you’re going to pick the cheapest thing on the menu?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled, betraying you. You blushed deeply, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Ni-ki’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“See?” he said, his tone gentle but teasing. “Your stomach agrees with me.”

Reluctantly, you turned your attention back to the menu, deciding to pick something that looked good rather than the cheapest option. After a few moments, you made your choice, pointing to a dish that caught your eye.

“I’ll have this,” you said, hoping it wasn’t too extravagant.

Ni-ki leaned over to see what you had chosen, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Good choice. I approve.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Well, I’m glad it meets your standards.”

He chuckled, signaling the waiter to take your orders.

Once the waiter left, you looked at him. “You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Yeah, I did.”

You looked away and quickly busied yourself with adjusting the utensils in front of you, unsure how to respond. Ni-ki didn’t press, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he leaned back in his seat.

“Just sit back and enjoy, doll. You deserve it.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, but he was already leaning back in his chair, a relaxed, almost casual expression on his face.

After a few moments, the food arrived. The waiter placed the beautifully plated dishes in front of both of you. The smell was enough to make your stomach rumble again.

You hesitated for a moment before picking up your chopsticks, trying not to seem too eager. When you finally took a bite of the food, your eyes widened in surprise. It was incredible—perfectly seasoned.

Ni-ki watched you intently, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you took another bite. "Good?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

You nodded, your mouth full but your eyes sparkling. "It’s amazing," you said, before taking another bite.

He chuckled lightly, clearly pleased. "I told you. You deserve the best."

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you continued eating. The meal went on like this, with easy conversation between you two. It felt... normal, in a way. He asked about your work, and you told him a little about how things had been going.

Ni-ki, on the other hand, kept his answers short, more focused on making you feel comfortable than discussing anything serious. Every time he glanced at you, there was something in his gaze, like you were the most important thing in the room.

It was strange. Sitting here with him, eating this expensive meal, having casual conversation—it didn’t feel like you were sitting across from a criminal who had held you hostage twice. For a moment, it almost felt like you were on a normal date, one where you could let your guard down.

You paused, lifting your glass of water to your lips, trying to gather your thoughts. Could this really be the same guy? The one who had dragged you around and threatened your life?

Ni-ki’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “You’re quiet. What’s on your mind?”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Nothing. Just... this feels weird, that’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Weird good or weird bad?”

You thought for a moment before responding. “Weird good,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed but also relieved to say it aloud. “It’s hard to reconcile... you know, everything that’s happened with... well, this.”

Ni-ki’s smile softened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “I get it. I get it more than you think.”

"You’ll get used to it," he added softly, before taking another bite of his meal.

After finishing the last bite of your meal, you leaned back in your chair, feeling pleasantly full and a little more at ease than you had all night. Ni-ki caught your eye as he signaled the waiter for the check. The moment the receipt was handed to him, your gaze instinctively fell to the amount, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head.

The total was outrageous.

You tried to keep your reaction in check, but your lips parted in disbelief, the number far higher than anything you’d ever imagined spending on a meal. It wasn’t just expensive—it was excessive.

Ni-ki noticed your expression and let out a low chuckle, his voice teasing. “You’ve got a look on your face, sweetheart. You okay?”

You quickly straightened up, trying to play it cool, but you could feel your cheeks turning slightly pink. “That’s... that’s a lot,” you muttered, trying to make it sound light, though you were still trying to process the shock of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily, waving a hand as if it was nothing. “It’s all taken care of.”

You couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t expect—”

“Relax,” he interrupted smoothly, smiling that smug little smile of his.

Before you could say anything else, he stood up, paying the bill and handing the waiter a generous tip. You watched him, still trying to wrap your mind around the amount he had just spent.

You weren’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of treatment.

As you got up from the table, Ni-ki took your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with an ease that almost felt possessive. You didn’t resist as he led you out of the restaurant, his other hand holding the door open for you.

The moment you reached the car, he opened the passenger door for you and gestured for you to get in. His hand lightly pressed against your back as you slid into the seat, and he closed the door after you, before going around and sliding in smoothly beside you.

“Relax, doll,” he said softly, as he started the car, the engine purring to life. “Let’s get you home.”

As the car sped down the quiet streets, you tried to focus but your thoughts kept spiraling. The money. It was stolen. Ni-ki was a criminal. Everything that had happened—the meal, the expensive gifts, the constant attention—came with a price. And that price was his life, his world. His actions were all tainted by theft, violence, and chaos.

You tried to remind yourself of that, to convince yourself that you should be repulsed. You should feel anger or disgust. But none of it bubbled inside of you.

It didn’t make sense. The pieces didn’t fit. You told yourself over and over again that you should hate Ni-ki, that you should despise the life he led, but each time you tried to convince yourself, you found your resolve crumbling.

Why didn’t that feel like a bigger deal?

His actions were a blatant disregard for everything you stood for, for the world you’d grown up in. He was a criminal. A dangerous one. And yet, as you glanced over at him in the driver's seat, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel disgusted or scared.

Why didn’t I feel any different?

He was using stolen money. He’d manipulated you into situations. And yet, somehow, here you were. And you were no longer asking why it felt wrong—you were too busy asking why it felt right.

When the car came to a stop in front of your building, Ni-ki didn’t waste a second. He stepped out, walking around to open the door for you, his expression unreadable as he gave you a soft nod. You hesitated for a moment, still trying to collect your scattered thoughts, but then you got out of the car, following him up to your place in silence.

When you reached your apartment door, Ni-ki made a soft sound—almost like a chuckle. You turned to look at him, expecting some joke or comment, but he was holding something in his hand.

A ring.

You blinked, confused, your eyes darting between his face and the small, shimmering band he was holding. It looked so familiar. A glint of gold, with a small diamond set in the center.

"What is this?" you asked, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

He eyes darkened slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's the same ring you were eyeing before the robbery. Thought you’d like it."

You stared at him, a mix of emotions bubbling inside you. The same ring? You weren’t sure whether to be shocked or frustrated. But before you could voice any of those feelings, he nudged the ring toward you.

You didn’t move immediately, still processing what was happening. But Ni-ki wasn’t waiting for you to decide. His fingers gently closed around your hand, and before you could protest or pull away, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

You didn’t pull your hand back, though every part of you screamed to. For some reason, it felt... right.

"There," Ni-ki said softly, his voice low and purposeful. "It’s yours now."

You didn’t know what to say. How to respond. All you could do was stare at the ring on your finger. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Ni-ki watched you, his eyes dark and intent, as you stood frozen, staring at the ring on your finger. He could see your inner turmoil, the hesitation in your eyes. "You know," he began, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your ear, "you're really quiet all of a sudden. That’s not like you, doll."

Before you could respond, he tilted your head up by your jaw, his fingers gently but firmly pressing against your skin, forcing your gaze to meet his. You felt your heart race in your chest as he held you there, steady and unyielding, making sure you couldn’t look away.

His other hand slid down, intertwining your fingers with his, his hold tight. You could feel the warmth of his palm against yours, the pressure of his fingers against yours. There was no room to pull away.

He leaned in so close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered softly, "You’re not going to run, are you? Not after all this. Not after everything we've been through."

You felt his other hand slide from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, if that was possible.

Ni-ki's voice softened, his words nearly a purr as they slipped from his lips. "You wouldn’t leave me, would you?" he asked, his fingers trailing down the back of your neck, sending jolts of warmth through your body. His eyes, intense and piercing, never left yours. "After everything we've been through... after all the time I've spent making sure you’re safe, looking after you..."

You couldn’t speak, your chest tight, your mind a blur of confusion and emotions. You were caught—stuck between wanting to run, wanting to get away, and something else... something that made it hard to think, to move.

Ni-ki seemed to sense your hesitation, and he pressed in closer, his lips hovering near yours. "I’ve been patient with you," he murmured, each word carefully measured. "I’ve waited for you to see it, to see that I’m good for you." His voice purred as if coaxing you. "I want to be good to you. You deserve it. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted."

His other hand gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him, and only him. "You’re the biggest treasure in the world, doll," he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And I want you."

Your heart hammered in your chest, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, the shock evident in your eyes. His words felt heavy—almost too heavy to bear.

Could you even run now? Could you really?

You couldn't resist and your gaze landed on his lips.

He caught your gaze, and a smile tugged at his lips, slow and knowing. "Do you want it?" he asked, his voice rough.

You blinked, confusion flickering in your eyes. "What?" you whispered, unsure of what he meant.

Ni-ki didn't answer right away. Instead, he hummed softly, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest, before his hand cupped your face. In one smooth motion, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so sudden, it stole your breath. His lips were warm, demanding, as he pushed you backward into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

You gasped into the kiss, the suddenness of it sending a wave of heat through you, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you melted into him, your hands reaching up to grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. His hands slid to your waist, holding you firmly, as if he was anchoring you to him.

You didn’t pull away, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t. You were drawn to him in a way that felt too strong to fight.

Ni-ki’s hands slid to your back, holding you close. You could feel the way his body moved with yours, the way he wanted you, the way he craved your every touch. It was impossible to resist, even though a small part of you tried to.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, his hands roaming over you, pulling you closer as he murmured into the kiss, his voice low.

“You’re the only one for me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. “Only you. Always you.” His hands slid from your back to your hips, gently guiding you toward the couch. You didn’t resist; instead, you let him pull you down, your body sinking into the soft cushions as he hovered over you.

His lips never left yours, his hands tracing the curves of your body. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he murmured, his words coming in short bursts as his lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Anything, baby. Just say it.”

You could barely focus on anything but the way his body pressed against yours, his lips were everywhere—your neck, your jawline, your ear. He whispered more sweet words, each one making your heart flutter despite the uncertainty you still felt in the back of your mind.

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you,” Ni-ki confessed, his voice rough, as if he couldn’t control the emotions spilling out of him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I need.” His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process everything that was happening. His words, his touch—they were consuming you, and it felt so good. It felt like nothing mattered but this moment, and it was so easy to get lost in him.

You pulled him back gently, your hands cupping his cheeks, holding him still as you locked eyes with him. His gaze was intense, searching yours.

With a small, teasing smile, you leaned in closer, your voice soft. “Show me how much you want me.”

A slow, pleased grin spread across his face as he closed the space between you. “I’ll show you that, and more,” he whispered, his voice husky with promise.

He slid close, his body pressed against yours as his lips found yours again.

As he kissed you, his words were a low murmur, barely audible against your skin. “I’m yours, doll. And I’ll make sure you see that.”

part 3

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[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

ᯓ⟢

How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you. 

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it. 

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks. 

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless. 

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations. 

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete. 

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head. 

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point. 

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it. 

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

part five>

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[sonarspace]

༉ BLOW OUT ALL THE CANDLES ! (S. GOJO)

꒰ synopsis. you made satoru gojo feel something he rarely ever did—normal, and undeniably special.

content. not proofread. nsfw. öral. blöwjob. cöwgirl (sorta.) orgasms (kinda?).

wc. 3.8k

an. happy birthday to my satoru pie. i love you forever.

satoru gojo didn’t care much for birthdays.

they weren’t a big deal when he was a kid. in his family, birthdays were less about celebration and more about the clan’s ambitions. they were opportunities to build connections, to showcase the strength of the gojo name. grand dinners with stiff smiles, meticulously chosen gifts meant to impress, and the constant reminder that his life wasn’t just his—it belonged to the clan.

as he got older, birthdays became… stranger. his peers either avoided him out of intimidation or fawned over him out of obligation. a few clumsy celebrations with shoko and suguru had been nice, but even those were fleeting, bittersweet reminders of a time he didn’t let himself dwell on. over the years, he perfected the art of shrugging them off. a careless smirk, a throwaway joke, and people stopped trying to make a big deal of it.

but you weren’t most people.

so when the doorbell to his apartment rang on his birthday evening, he didn’t expect much. maybe yuuji or nobara with some half-baked chaos to drag him into, or shoko dropping off cheap booze alongside a biting remark about his eternal man-child status. what he wasn’t expecting was you.

you stood there, a box of cupcakes balanced in one hand and a single cupcake in the other, topped with a tiny, flickering candle.

“what’s this?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, his grin lazy but curious. “you come to serenade me?”

“in your dreams,” you retorted, brushing past him and into the warmth of his apartment without waiting for an invitation. “happy birthday, satoru.”

he blinked, caught off guard by your casual entrance and the lack of fanfare. you set the box on the coffee table and placed the lone cupcake beside it, turning to face him with your arms crossed, like you weren’t about to take no for an answer.

“make a wish,” you said, nodding toward the flickering candle.

“a cupcake?” he teased, his voice laced with mock disbelief as he moved closer. “no fireworks? no parade?”

“you get enough attention,” you replied with a shrug. “i figured you could use something normal for once.”

the word hit him unexpectedly. normal. it was such an ordinary thing, so far removed from the fabric of his life, yet the way you said it, like it wasn’t out of reach for him—like you could give it to him—made it feel almost tangible.

his grin softened as he lowered himself onto the couch, his gaze lingering on the candle a beat longer than necessary. he hesitated, the faintest flicker of vulnerability crossing his features, before he leaned forward and blew it out. the flame disappeared in a curl of smoke, and he watched it fade as if expecting something more to happen.

“what’d you wish for?” you asked, settling beside him, your tone light, but your curiosity barely hidden.

he leaned back, draping one arm across the couch’s back, the smirk slipping easily back into place. “if i told you, it wouldn’t come true.”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “oh, i’ve got it. you wished for the power to finally stop using so much hair gel.”

his laugh was instant, warm and unguarded. “excuse you. this is natural. flawless, even.”

“of course,” you said, rolling your eyes with exaggerated seriousness. “how could i forget? the hair, the face, the attitude—you’re a walking genetic miracle.”

“now you’re catching on,” he replied, leaning slightly closer. “being this amazing isn’t easy.”

“it sounds exhausting,” you said, mirroring his smirk. “you should write a memoir. ‘satoru gojo: the struggles of being too beautiful for this world.’”

he placed a hand over his heart, feigning a dramatic sigh. “you wound me. but let’s be honest—you’d buy a copy.”

“wrong. i’d steal one,” you quipped. “wouldn’t pay a cent.”

his laughter softened as he shook his head, his grin fading into something smaller, quieter as he glanced at the box. he pulled it open and grabbed a cupcake, peeling the wrapper with an almost boyish carelessness. his first bite was deliberate, and the faint hum of approval he let out made your stomach flip, though you didn’t dare show it.

“what?” you asked, catching the subtle shift in his expression.

he shook his head, licking a stray bit of frosting from his thumb. “nothing. just… been a while since i’ve had something like this.”

“a cupcake?” you teased lightly.

“something simple,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “this feels… nice.”

the words lingered, unpolished and unintentional, like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. you studied him for a moment, the usual bravado softened, the ever-present walls of gojo satoru slipping away to reveal something more vulnerable underneath.

“you deserve nice things,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

he glanced at you, his smirk faltering for just a moment before creeping back, though it was softer this time. “careful,” he said, his tone playful, “you’re starting to sound like you like me.”

“don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, bumping his shoulder lightly.

his chuckle was low, and when he leaned back into the couch, his expression was unguarded, his gaze steady. “too late,” he said, his voice quieter now. “you already made my day.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his tone lingered, settling deep in your chest like an ember refusing to burn out. it was the kind of warmth that reminded you this wasn’t the strongest sorcerer in the world sitting next to you, the untouchable, larger-than-life gojo satoru who wore his arrogance like armor. this was just him—barefoot in his apartment, smirking over a cupcake, his guard down in a way you rarely got to see.

and as the thought settled over you, steady and sure, you realized you wanted to keep him like this—unguarded, real, and yours, if only for tonight.

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that. the cupcake led to takeout, and soon the coffee table was littered with empty containers, the sound of your laughter filling the quiet apartment.

you’d known satoru for years now, ever since your paths crossed during a particularly chaotic mission that required his abilities and your steady resourcefulness to pull off. somehow, your friendship had stuck. you weren’t part of his clan, nor a student at his school. you were simply you—a constant in his otherwise turbulent life.

“so, birthdays,” you said at one point, your tone casual. “not your thing?”

he shrugged, popping the last bite of your dumplings into his mouth before replying. “they’re just… another day.”

you raised an eyebrow. “seriously? not even a little excitement?”

he hesitated, his usual cocky demeanor faltering just slightly. “when you’re me, birthdays are… complicated.”

you didn’t push, but the way you looked at him—curious, patient—made something in him unravel.

“when i was a kid, they were more about the clan than me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “every party, every gift—it was all about connections. alliances. showing off what the gojo name could do.”

your expression softened, the weight of his words settling over you. “that sounds… lonely.”

he gave a half-smile, his gaze flickering to the melted wax still pooled on the cupcake. “yeah,” he said softly. “it was.”

you tilted your head, studying him for a moment before speaking. “what about what you want?”

he blinked, caught off guard by the question. “what i want?”

“yeah,” you said, leaning back against the couch. “what would make your birthday feel special?”

he didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting to the candle. “this,” he said finally, his voice softer. “this is nice.”

later, as the night wound down, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. “i got you something,” you said, your voice softer now, your fingers fidgeting slightly as you handed it to him.

he took it with a curious look, tearing into the wrapping with his usual enthusiasm. when he lifted the lid, his expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features.

inside was a sleek, custom-designed blindfold. the material was a soft, matte black with subtle silver detailing at the edges—practical but elegant. as he turned it over in his hands, you could see the faintest flicker of emotion cross his usually carefree expression.

“figured you might like something a little different,” you said, your tone almost shy as you watched him. “still functional, of course, but… you know, something that’s actually yours.”

he ran his thumb over the stitching, his voice quiet. “you had this made?”

“yeah,” you admitted, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks. “i just thought you'd like something that’s just… you.”

his throat tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. he turned the blindfold over in his hands, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something quieter, more vulnerable. “you didn’t have to do this.”

“i wanted to,” you replied simply.

he looked up at you then, his usually mischievous eyes holding something deeper. “this might be the best gift i’ve ever gotten,” he said softly.

you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the sudden weight of the moment. “well, don’t get used to it. next year, it’s back to birthday cards.”

he chuckled, slipping the blindfold into his pocket with a small, genuine smile. “thank you,” he said again, his voice low and sincere.

the quiet shifted, the weight of the day settling in as the distance between you felt like it had shrunk into nothing. it wasn’t just the laughter, or the teasing, or even the gift. it was the way he looked at you now, unguarded and steady, like you’d managed to slip past the walls he kept so carefully built.

“satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. the sound of his name made him shift closer, his hand moving to your waist, his touch light but deliberate.

“hmm?” he hummed, his gaze dropping to your lips.

“happy birthday,” you said softly, and then his lips were on yours.

his lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and reverence, like he couldn’t get enough but wanted to savor every second. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body warm and solid against yours. every touch, every kiss, felt like it carried the weight of all the things he wasn’t saying aloud.

“you’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm as his nose brushed yours.

“you haven’t seen anything yet,” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended. he chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through you as he kissed along the line of your jaw.

his hands found the hem of your shirt, tugging it up with maddening slowness, his fingertips grazing your sides and sending shivers down your spine. the shirt joined the growing pile of forgotten items on the floor, leaving you in just your bra. his eyes flicked over you, his smirk fading into something darker, more intent.

“beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. the way his gaze lingered on you, like he was committing every detail to memory, made your cheeks flush.

you opened your mouth to say something, but then he was reaching for the cupcake you’d brought. his grin returned, wide and mischievous as he scooped a dollop of frosting onto his finger.

“satoru,” you started, already suspicious. “don’t—”

but he was already leaning forward, smearing the frosting just above your collarbone, the coolness of it making you shiver.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“i’m creative,” he corrected, his grin widening as his mouth followed, his tongue warm and deliberate as he licked the frosting away. the contrast of cold and heat sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.

he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “want to know what i wished for?”

your heart stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “what?”

his lips curved into a softer smile—less playful, more genuine. “this,” he murmured. “you.”

the words landed heavy in the space between you, sinking into your chest and stealing the air from your lungs. the teasing glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something raw and unguarded that made your chest ache.

“satoru,” you murmured, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. it felt more vulnerable than you meant it to, but the way his expression softened in response made you glad you’d said it.

“say it again,” he whispered, his hand reaching for more frosting. this time, he smeared it just above the curve of your breast, his grin turning wicked as he leaned down, his tongue following the sugary trail. the warmth of his mouth, paired with the way his hand slid behind you to unclasp your bra, had your breath hitching.

“satoru,” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as his lips lingered against your skin.

“good girl,” he growled softly, the praise sending heat straight to your core. he tossed your bra aside, his gaze dropping to take in the sight of you fully. “god, you’re perfect.”

his hands framed your ribs, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch again. “best birthday ever,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he pressed a kiss between your breasts.

his cerulean eyes glinted mischievously as he suddenly shifted, his hands gripping your hips as he turned, placing you back on the couch with a smooth motion. the world tilted, and before you could register what was happening, he was on his knees in front of you, his broad hands parting your thighs gently, reverently.

“satoru,” you murmured, your voice shaky as he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm against you.

“shh,” he whispered, his tone full of appreciation. “let me take my time with you.”

his lips moved slowly, trailing kisses over your thighs before dipping closer to your center, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. you gasped as he found your clit, his tongue pressing firm and wet against it, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open as he worked you with a precision that made your toes curl.

“you’re so perfect,” he muttered against you, his voice thick with praise. “taste so sweet—so good for me.”

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the heat built low in your stomach. every swipe of his tongue, every low hum he let out, sent sparks through your body, but when your hips bucked into his mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from tugging harder, yanking him back.

he groaned softly at the sharp pull, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dazed and hungry. “what are you—”

before he could finish, you pushed him back, your hands firm on his shoulders as you guided him down to the floor. his surprise melted into delight, his grin wide and playful as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with open curiosity.

“my turn,” you said, grabbing another cupcake from the table with a smirk.

his brow lifted in amusement, but the playful look in his eyes didn’t waver, even as you smeared the frosting across his sharp jawline. the sticky sweetness painted his pale skin, and you leaned down, your tongue darting out to clean the frosting in slow, deliberate strokes. his breathing hitched as you kissed the trail from his cheek to the corner of his lips, the sugary taste mingling with the salt of his skin.

“another present?” he teased, his voice low and velvety, laced with intrigue.

you didn’t answer, your lips brushing against his jawline, tracing a path to his throat. his breath caught as your tongue flicked against the hollow of his neck, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt with deliberate slowness. the fabric fell away, revealing the smooth planes of his chest, the faint sheen of sweat making his skin glisten in the dim light.

“you’re a menace,” he muttered, his voice dropping as his hands came up to your waist.

“consider it a gift,” you replied, your tone light but teasing as your hands roamed his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms.

“some gift,” he murmured, his tone roughening as his fingers brushed against the hem of your shirt. his gaze locked onto yours, the heat in his expression making your stomach tighten.

“you’re welcome,” you quipped, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his collarbone. your lips moved lower, trailing kisses down the sharp lines of his torso, leaving a path of heat in your wake. he let out a low groan, his fingers flexing against your hips as you reached the waistband of his pants.

“you’re full of surprises tonight,” he muttered, his voice thick with anticipation as you unfastened his belt and tugged the fabric down.

your gaze drifted lower, taking in the sight of him fully. his cock was already hard, flushed at the tip and glistening with precum. the sight made your thighs press together instinctively, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach.

“what’s the matter?” he teased, his voice a bit uneven as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you. “you look like you’ve seen something you like.”

“you could say that,” you replied, your voice breathy as your hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly. the weight of him in your hand was intoxicating, the heat of his skin sending a shiver through you. his breath hitched, and his head fell back, exposing the column of his throat as he groaned softly.

“fuck,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your hips. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

“that’s the plan,” you replied with a grin, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to taste him.

his reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, his hands flexing against the floor as he fought to keep still. “shit,” he rasped, his voice rough as his gaze dropped to meet yours. “don’t stop.”

you didn’t. your tongue flicked against him, teasing before you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you worked him slowly. his breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each deliberate stroke of your tongue.

“look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. your eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were darker now, clouded with desire, and the sight of him—his chest heaving, his jaw tight, his lips parted—made your thighs clench with need.

“fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and desperation. “you’re too good at this.”

you hummed softly in response, the vibration pulling a low groan from him. your hand joined your mouth, stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements, and the combination had his head falling back again, his hips twitching beneath you.

just as he seemed on the verge of losing control, you pulled back, your lips leaving him with a soft pop. his eyes flew open, wild and questioning, as he looked down at you.

“another present,” you said, your voice teasing as you climbed back up his body, your lips pressing to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you settled over him, the slick heat of your core brushing against him.

“only a little,” you replied, your grin wicked as your hands braced against his chest, your hips rolling against his in a slow, deliberate grind.

his hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly as you moved together, his cock buried deep inside you. the wet, slick sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, mingling with the soft gasps and ragged breaths you couldn’t contain. his gaze locked on yours, heavy-lidded and full of heat, and it made every nerve in your body ignite.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. his hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movements as his hips rolled up to meet you, each thrust deeper and more deliberate than the last.

your hands braced against his chest, your nails scraping lightly over the hard planes of muscle as you rode him. the drag of his cock against your walls, the way he filled you completely, sent waves of pleasure through you. his jaw was tight, his head tipped back slightly as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

“satoru,” you gasped, your voice breaking on the syllables as he thrust up into you harder, hitting the perfect spot that made your vision blur.

“say it again,” he growled, his voice commanding. his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as his hips snapped up into you. “say my name.”

“satoru,” you whimpered, your breath hitching as your body trembled against his. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as you kissed him, your lips brushing against his in a frantic, heated rhythm.

his movements grew faster, more desperate, as he chased his release. his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that made you cry out, your head falling to his shoulder as your body arched into his touch.

“come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of praise. “let me feel you.”

the coil in your stomach tightened, the heat building until it was unbearable. and then it snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in waves that left you trembling in his arms. your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and the sound he let out—a low, guttural groan—made your head spin.

“fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust into you one last time. his cock pulsed inside you, his release warm and overwhelming as he buried himself deep, his head falling to your shoulder as his breathing turned ragged.

you stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, your bodies pressed so close it was impossible to tell where you ended and he began. his hands slid up your back, his touch gentle now, almost reverent, as he held you close.

“you’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. the words were quiet, but they carried a weight that made your chest ache in the best way.

“happy birthday,” you murmured, your voice soft as your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

he chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “best birthday ever,” he said, his voice rough but sincere.

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “you’re welcome.”

his arms tightened around you, pulling you down against his chest, his body warm and solid beneath you. the world outside faded, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, steady and grounding.

“stay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as his eyes began to close.

“always,” you whispered, your hand sliding to rest against his chest as your own eyes drifted shut.

for the first time in years, satoru gojo didn’t just feel celebrated. he felt loved.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[chuulyssa]

husband!gojo doesn’t like it when you work

mdni 18+ nsfw under the cut

because, one, it steals you away from him, two, you don’t pay enough attention to him, and three, you don’t let him give you enough attention either. so he desperately tries to get you off your chair, and, quite literally, swoop you off your feet with his charms.

husband!gojo who thus tries to distract you from your boring work. why? because you don’t need to work. he’s rich enough to pay all your bills, and frankly, what else do people work for? i mean sure, you could go for the whole ‘independent person and ideals’ vibe, but that’s boring, and satoru does not like it. don’t get him wrong though; he’s super super proud of you for doing what you like, but sometimes he just isn’t able to hide the fact that he doesn’t like you away from him for as long as your work hours go.

husband!gojo who “accidentally” flops onto your desk, dangerously close to your important papers and the ink pot right next to it, and whines (with a suspiciously huge grin) about how “neglected” he feels without you “playing with his hair”. you spare him a glance, but he’s not satisfied; how can he be? so he tries to lean in to steal a kiss from your oh-so-pretty-looking lips that just need to be touched with his. but as luck would have it, clang! goes your coffee mug all over your table. he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. flop 1.

husband!gojo who goes for another method — quite literally sweeping you off your feet. he strolls into your room all confident, turns your chair around and scoops you up in his arms. when you protest, he pouts, “i’m taking you out of here, no more work, only love!” but right when he’s about to walk out of the room, he trips over the wires of your laptop charger, and both of you go tumbling to the floor. “whoops,” he says, embarrassed. flop 2.

husband!gojo who then tries to pull out the “romantic partner” card. “baby, i know you’re busy, but surely i can pull you away for a bit of… you know, charm,” he winks, trying to be all suave, thinking of picking you up for a moment before the memory of what happened the last time he did so flashes back to him like a nightmare and he merely resorts to kissing your hair. and it would’ve worked too! …if it hadn’t been for megumi’s divine dogs to have rushed into the room for no particular reason. “i didn’t think the ball would land here,” megumi says gruffly, pulling them both away, and you grimace to satoru. he sighs. flop 3.

husband!gojo who tries to throw in a spontaneous ‘date’ in the middle of work. he randomly shows up with snacks and drinks and a huge grin on his face, as if he was going to conquer the world by pulling you away from work for a break. you smile at his nice gesture, and he’s about to lean in for a loooonggg romantic and cheesy kiss before his phone rings. he cuts the call, but it rings again. and again. and again. “you have work? me too, how nice,” you kiss his nose to calm the frustrated expression he had on his face. flop 4.

husband!gojo thinks he might be sick at this point. he wants to see you, and get you to be with him already! he wants you to kiss his face, and his neck, and his knuckles, and his chest, and him! but you seem to never have the time to. he felt stupid, was he really being jealous of your work? his lip quivers and he pouts, looking at you longingly as if the look alone would get you off work.

and it does. not in the way he had thought it would though.

“there baby, now we can both get what we want, hm?” gojo whispers into your ear, and you clutch your pen tighter, goosebumps rising on your arms. “you’ll be good for me, right? stay still f’me, okay?” he gives you a ‘good luck hump’ to calm you, but it does the opposite.

your lips twist and a loud whine escapes it. it feels blissful. nothing like you have felt in ages. what have you been doing all this time anyway instead of getting yourself fucked dumb on his cock? you try moving a bit more to get that feeling again, but his arms snap immediately to tug your hips closer to still down.

“no cheating,” he hums, chin on your shoulder so you feel all the vibrations of his sounds. “let me get this,” his fingers clutch your clit, and your eyes bulge, and he slips his fingers inside your open mouth. “there there, fuuuuuckkk, can’t wait for you to be done with these papers baby. gonna do them real quick for me, right? thats my baby.”

you nod vigorously, sucking on his fingers, the pen in your hands long forgotten. yes, you will try to finish quick. but how can you, with his cock nestling so deep inside you, so still and yet still hitting the good spots?

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[sinstear]

she won’t admit it face to face, or say it out loud but abby likes to watch. she wasn’t sure when that started, but she enjoys to watch. maybe it could have been that night when she woke up to the muffled sounds beside her at crazy hours of the morning, looking over to her left to find you slumped next to her, eyes fluttered closed, eyebrows pinched forward in a tight frown, soft breaths slipping past your lips and your hand shoved down the front of your boxers, rubbing at your clit like it was going to detach itself from your body if you didn’t fix the fuckin’ problem you had been having all godforsaken day.

but it started for her then, almost like it was waiting for the time to crawl out, and from that night, she steals little glances here and there when she does catch you touching yourself, never once owning up to the fact she enjoys watching you pleasure yourself a little too much. abby never understood the reasoning behind it, not once really taking time to ask herself why, but the following night she had found an answer. kind of, maybe? it started with her scrolling through her photos on her computer, your shared computer. you both had nothing in there to hide, right? nothing to be of surprise? wrong.

the more she scrolled, the more her breath hitched in her throat at the series of photos, photos that were of her, she didn’t have to click on them to know that the messy blonde hair, glossy eyes, and swollen lips were her and once she clicks the small arrows, pulling her to more and more pictures, her eyes widen and her cheeks flush a deep red when she’s scrolling onto a sudden video and the sound of her breathless whines and whimpers ring out from the speaker, she’s done for.

“christ,” she murmured, eyes glued to the way her body trembled beneath yours. her eyes can’t leave the way your fingers thread through her hair, tugging her head back, growling incoherent words against her ear. abby’s fascinated with the way your free hand always manages to pull her back hips and back against your cock, whimpering out about how badly you wanna make her a mama, fucking into her harder with a harshness that was still laced and intertwined with your gentle and caring side.

she was quite literally watching a video of herself getting fucked into the mattress by you.

“s’prettiest pussy ever, hm? takin’ me like the good girl i know you are.” in the back of her mind, she remembers the smug look on your face, the lick of your lips, and the innocent question, “can we record it the next time? want you to see how pretty you look when you get fucked” that fell from your lips. abby didn’t hesitate to agree, but somewhere she forgot that you asked that. “baby, do you know where i put my—” abby scrambled to close the lid of the laptop, slightly struggling, and almost dropped it on the floor when she heard your voice. “are you good?” you chuckled, eyeing her up closely. 

“y..yes m’good. what have you lost?” abby hopes and prays that you don’t catch onto what she’s doing, but you’re moving closer to her by the second and once your hand is grabbing the laptop, her eyes go wide and she’s reaching up for it. “no!”

 “stop being a brat, what are you hiding— oh.” the sounds of her moans and a mixture of your grunts and growls fill the room again, and this time abby is shrinking back into the couch trying to save herself the embarrassment of being caught by you. “see you found my little gift to you then. do you like it?” you’re smirking, placing the laptop in the middle of the coffee table and sitting beside her. both sets of eyes on the laptop screen, shamelessly watching. “i think you look breathtaking,” you murmured, twirling a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“i love it.” abby breathed out, squirming around more beside you. “yeah? i think you wearing your cute glasses would have made it even better but you always ‘lose’ those, so.” “i can find them for next time.” she choked out, the feeling of your hand dragging up her leg and squeezing the fat of her thigh with a guttural hmm had her gasping softly and practically curling herself into your side.

“next time? doesn’t need to be a next time when i can fuck you like this right now, my girl.” 

“please?” abby fucking whimpers at your question and nods her head quickly. 

“yeah? want me to fuck you like i fucked you last night? split you open on my cock, make you a mess, and see how many times i can make your pretty pussy cum? might be a new record with how fast i can make you cum lately. just a cock drunk slut, hm?” your hand squishes her cheeks together and you grin at the elicit whine you pull from her mouth. “yeah, course you want that, all you need is your mouth and pussy stuffed to stop being a brat.”

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, the GCPD and the Batfamily having a dysfunctional working relationship would be hilarious. Like, the cops know they need the Bats to help keep Gotham’s streets clean, but man, they are fucking troublemakers.

Take Dick, for example. He’s already naturally at home in a police station, so he’ll regularly waltz into GCPD headquarters to give pointers on cases, act as a translator, and will occasionally bring donuts for the night officers. But he’s also been trying to get them to unionize since 2009 and will also unabashedly steal things from the evidence locker. (He always returns it, usually with the adjacent case completed, but it’s a lot of red tape and that’s very annoying.) He also fucks up the coffee machine every time he uses it.

As for Jason… On one hand he is excellent at tracking down perps that have escaped custody or gone to ground. It’s not uncommon for him to pull up with a van full of criminals on the wanted list, which is great… expect for the fact that Jason is also on the wanted list. So whenever he shows up the GCPD cops have to put in effort (minimal as it may be) to try and “capture” the Red Hood so that they don’t get audited by Homeland Security. So now like once a month they have to chase the Red Hood across Gotham proper, because he handed the Penguin into their custody or something, and they have to look good for their bosses—it’s a waste of resources and really fucking annoying, but, hey, they got the Penguin?

Surprisingly, Tim and Stephanie are the most frequent visitors of the GCPD—and they are also the most dreaded. Because Tim is a plucky little know-it-all, but also he can and will update their entire database in a single night and will, at random, solve a cold case they’ve been sitting on for 20 years. The problem is that he’s just fucking annoying about it, and every other week he’ll break into the vending machine to steal the energy drinks—that shit is impossible to get replaced. And Steph? She’ll talk the ears off the night shift and get everyone off task, because they’re busy gossiping about the accounting department in the Manor’s office and planning a prank war on the fire department.

You would think Cassandra would be everyone’s favorite because she’s quiet and much less destructive then her siblings, but you’d be wrong—Cassandra is an absolute menace and the night shift workers have spent years trying to prove it. She will sneak up behind people, leave random pebbles in people’s shoes, and will put googly eyes on anything she touches. The day shift thinks the night officers need to chill because, “isn’t she the chill one?” (No. No she is not. None of the Bats are chill.)

And then there’s Damian. As Robin, the closest he usually gets to the GCPD is through Batman, via his consultations with Commissioner Gordon. But on the rare occasions he’s permitted inside the GCPD, he is dotted on extensively by the officers. He’s deadly and abrasive but they love him. They give him candy and head pats and let him use the sketch-artist supplies to do drawings, which they religiously pin to the break room refrigerator. Damian will pretend to despise this despite the fact that he so clearly loves it.

Lastly, there’s Duke. As the only day shifter, he’s widely considered to be the most well adjusted and relatable Bat. Half a year into his tenure as Signal, he’s on a first name basis with half the GCPD, has his own locker and fridge space for his lunchbox, a coffee mug with his logo on it is kept in the break room, and he’s already been nominated for Employee of the Year despite the fact that he does not actually work for the GCPD. The night shift refuses to accept that he is real.