#'oh but you're so bubbly and clearly [something] would be too much for you!'

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part two

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- eventually explicit sex, freaky but fluffy- this part- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mentions of sex work, jealousy, fingering, Gojo has six inch fingers I won't argue about it lol, he masturbates too much, sexual tension - lots of it- he becomes lowkey/highkey Yan tbh, pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part one Part three>>>

Escort! Satoru never falters, but when he sees you in that elegant black dress, hugging every curve and line of your body, he does just that. Not only has he stroked himself to you every day this week - sometimes multiple times a day- you also make his heart race with your pretty smile, so shy and nervous as you look down at your feet now. 'You look... sexy as fuck' you giggle now, when he brushes back a little tendril of hair that's escaped it's elegant coif, watching your lips part, making his thoughts run haywire. 'You say that to all the girls, hmm? I kind of pay you to say it' he scoffs then.

Escort! Satoru murmurs 'you look beautiful' earning your cheeks heating up, your own heart thudding as you try to remember what you're here for. He's a paid actor who's a sweetheart, and that's all this is. 'And no I don't get paid to say it' You nervously bite your lower lip, drawing his attention as the two of you stand outside of the grand ball room in down town, the wind gently blowing your dress just enough to show him those sexy legs of yours. 'Thank you, Satoru- you look amazing' he smirks, tugging at his slick Armani tux- 'well of course I do'

Escort! Satoru is the perfect partner as the two of you enter the bustling room, snatching up two glasses of champagne for you both, you sip the bubbly liquid and curse. 'My parents, three oclock... we may have to kiss or something is that okay?' Satoru clears his throat. 'I don't on the mouth' 'oh! I'm so sorry...' he's eying your lips now, enticing him to no end, while your hand comes to brush against his shoulder. 'What about the cheek?' Satoru would kiss every inch of your pretty body, he realizes even your mouth doesn't feel like it's off limits, but he gives you an easy smile. 'Sure, sweets'

Escort! Satoru shmoozes right along with all the old wealth in the room, enjoying your every eye roll and sigh, you clearly don't enjoy being around all of this. You make him more curious after he wins your parents over, brushing his lips on your cheek, warm against the plush of his mouth, as his arm wraps your waist. 'Your daughter is really something' he says softly, pulling you closer. 'Thank god, we didn't know if she'd ever meet someone! she's always working-' 'mom!' Satoru snorts in humor then. 'I also work all the time' they look at him curiously. 'And what do you do?' Your turn to look at him, you two didn't discuss this. 'I'm a massage therapist'

Escort! Satoru sips his champagne after they leave, and you raise a brow at him. 'Massage therapist, hmm?' Satoru wiggles his thin white brows, leaning against the table now. 'Wanna find out if I'm lying?' You're so shy from his flirtations, you hardly notice when several men take notice of you in that dress. You don't dress up aside from business, but you must look pretty good- they're all over you, asking to dance as you politely decline, and Satoru's anger grows with each one. When a man has his hand on the small of your back, he forgets you've paid him to come here, walking up and swatting the man's wrist away, as you look at him in confusion. 'Care for a dance, sweetheart?'

Escort! Satoru leads you out to the floor, pulling your body flush against his, you tilt your head up to look at the tall man, whose eyes are swirling blue. 'Playing the boyfriend role so well, gonna earn a hefty tip' you tease softly, Satoru freezes, hands on the nip at your waist. That was not pretend, he wanted to cut a man's hand off for touching a fucking stranger essentially, a pretty client. He smirks, feigning ease he doesn't feel. 'I'm five star for a reason, hmm?' you're losing the night in his arms, spinning around the elegant ballroom, so light and giddy as the champagne rushes your blood stream.

Escort! Satoru and you are standing on the outside again as the evening is ending, and you've ordered a limo to take the two of you home. 'Would you like to ride with me or...' 'yes' his answer is so fast it hits you by surprise, as the wind whips around the two of you, making you shiver. Satoru takes his fancy jacket off, tossing it over your shoulders, in a gesture far too sweet- it's hard to remember this is just a job for him. 'Thank you for tonight, Satoru, you really made it so much better' you peck a kiss on his cheek, he turns his head, lips a breath from yours when the limo pulls up, and he opens the door for you, sliding in close.

Escort! Satoru eyes the rise and fall of your perfect breasts when you take of his jacket, handing it back, your fingers brushing, the contact ending his resolve. He's never needed to have someone like you, his hand slipping up your thigh, feeling you tremble, your eyes dilating in desire. 'Satoru you don't have to perform that part of your job with me, I really did just need someone perfect, to appear that I'm... put together I guess' he sighs now, leaning even closer against you in the night, thumbs running little circles across your inner thigh, hearing your soft cry. 'I want to make you cum, if you'd like me to, you look like you could really use a release' you swallow nervously, when his hand brushes even higher, so close to where you're wet and sticky against the lace of your panties.

Escort! Satoru feels your heat, murmuring - 'fuck' - blue eyes almost blinding, his pupils pinpoints, lips so close they're almost touching. 'Say the word, sweetheart, I'll get your pretty pussy off so good' you manage a weak moan, trying to pull yourself together. 'will this cost extra, mister?' you're trying to tease him, so cute and fumbling over your words, even now. 'Nah, I pick what I want to do with every client, and you I'd love cumming all over my fingers' you nod nervously, while the limo heads to your home. Surely one night of pleasure isn't the worst thing. 'yeah, you want it pretty girl?' his words along with fingers brushing your soaking cunt over the material has your head falling back, a cry eliciting from your throat. 'then say it' he orders softly, thumb brushing the slick growing, looking down at your pretty face, picturing it when you cum.

Escort! Satoru almost cums when you murmur 'I want it' and has your panties pulled to the side, two fingers slid in your cunt in moments. You gasp at the stretch, clinging tightly to him, 'fuck, you're that wet, baby I haven't touched you' he's cocky, he's ridiculous, he's an... escort, but fuck does he know just where to press, his fingers so long you've not been with men as long as them, as his fucking fingers, making you wildly think of his cock when he presses your back against the limo, hair falling over a brown, you hear your greedy cunt squishing and clicking. 'Mnh! It's... intense I...' Satoru smiles, breath ghosting across the tops of your breasts, when his fingers curl just right, making you blinded. 'There's that spot, feels good doesn't it, pretty?'

Escort! Satoru has his fingertips hitting that spot again and again, while he kisses down to your breast, and your hands grip his hair, making him press his cock against the seat, desperate for any friction. When your hands trail down his waist he stops them, making you blink as you focus, hearing the squelching wetness when his fingers pump. Satoru kisses that hand, before he pins your wrist down, watching you climb higher and higher. 'That's it, let go f'me, huh? Be a good girl, would you?' You're ended at that, at his fingers scissoring in and out, and you feel your climax hit, orgasm having you gush all over his hands, he watches in wonder as you do, down to his silver and diamond cufflinks, soaking him and that seat,

Escort! Satoru moans as he watches your pretty face, your eyes fluttering, lips parted in a gasp, and your wrist is still in his big hand, he's never seen anything like you cumming, not even after countless women. 'Oh my god... you should... charge even more...' your sweet little declaration makes him chuckle, when he eases his long, thick digits out you suddenly feel empty, the limo comes to a stop as you sit up nervously, adjusting ruined panties, trying to straighten up while his cock is pulsing, precum sticking to his boxers. 'I can return the favor, free you know' you tease softly, hand brushing his length, eliciting a whimper. A whimper. He's Satoru Gojo, top escort, about to cum from your palm brushing him over layers of clothing.

Escort! Satoru can't embarrass himself, especially not with you, putting his fingers to his mouth then, moaning as he sucks you off him, your pussy clenches at the fucking sight, whining out from the back of your throat. 'Fuck...' he murmurs, tasting how sweet you are, while you watch in wonder. 'you taste that good?' you're enamored by his glistening lips, leaning so close, when there's a subtle knock on the door. You hastily kiss his cheek bone, hugging him tightly, so sweet you make him die more for you, before pulling back, the longing in your body for more fighting with your mind. It's a fantasy, it's his job, it's not... more.

Escort! Satoru hates when you head out of the limo, your legs are visibly shaky, as you look at him so nervous, biting your lower lip and tucking that tendril back once more. 'Satoru Gojo you deserve every five star you get' you say, before nervously turning back, Satoru looks out the window to see you live in a fucking penthouse nicer than his, before the door shuts and he's left alone, your perfume clinging to him, the taste of you just barely enough on his fingers that he can suck you off them again. His phone dings, and you've tipped him another thousand dollars, with a cute little emoji. Now emojis, collarbones and tendrils of hair make him want to cum. Great.

Escort! Satoru tries to go back to business as usual, but he can't get you off his mind. He hasn't tried to write you, he knows it was just a job, but when he's on a 'date' with another client, his memory rolls to you, when he's dancing he craves your unique size in his arms, that perfect body under his, imagines a slicker, tighter cunt like yours, when he's trying to please his clients. He can't even cum unless he thinks of you, and keeps refusing blow jobs, to the point he wonders just what you fucking did somehow. He keeps eyeing that extra tip, feeling horrible you sent it even, how should he get paid to touch you, to make you cum!? Surely he should fucking pay to even be in your presence, and God he would.

Escort! Satoru has an idea suddenly, when he leaves another client pleased, yet he can't manage to make himself fuck anyone, he can't keep it up when they try, and it's been three fucking weeks. It must be in his head, it must be that he enjoyed it so much... it must be something right? Satoru does not get feelings for his clients, he's a professional... or, he was. He is shutting his eyes seeing your glistening cunt he got just a glimpse of, cumming until he's just shooting blanks, over and over like a madness, until he looks you up, it's not hard to find you. He scrolls through your pictures, business ones, and cums more, his cock rubbed raw as he pictures it, you under him as he pumps you full of his cum.

Escort! Satoru finds himself at your business, waiting for a meet with you, the high up CEO of this building, you hear the name and are completely confused, when he walks into your office you remember it all then. All the times you've thought of him, it's so embarrassing! Surely he's back to normal, and you're left using your rose toy on high and imagining six inch fingers buried in your cunt. 'Satoru, this is a surprise, did you need... marketing? For your business?' Satoru chuckles as your assistant shuts that door with a resounding click, pulling out a pretty black velvet box then. Your brows draw together in confusion. 'What is that?' Satoru walks forward, you inhale that scent, eye his lithe body hungrily, trying to keep your composure.

Escort! Satoru hated the thought of you paying so much, the only thing he can think is to give it back, but he can't because he's sure you'd never take it. So he firmly went to Cartier and bought this pretty bracelet he shows you now, making you gasp. Despite being wealthy, he notices you have simple jewelry, you don't have a fancy office, it's as if you don't even let yourself have nice things. Well he would change it, even if it meant just one more time seeing you, maybe to get you out of his system. He watches color dance on your cheeks, as you run your fingers across it - 'It's beautiful, but...' he shushes you, gently taking the pretty white gold out of the box, smiling at you, his snowy lashes low over his heated blue eyes. 'Your review, got me a lot of traction, let me give a gift?'

Escort! Satoru snaps that Cartier bracelet on your delicate wrist, the jewels glinting under your soft office lighting, you feel the cold against your skin, barely cooling you, as you remember his fingers, remember him sucking you off them, the way he had you gushing arousal, had you floating. Desire wars with what it means, was it just him being kind? Was it more? 'Satoru, it's beautiful but, this costs what I tipped you' he smiles a bit, no it cost more than that, but he'll let you think so. He runs his fingertips across your cheek now. 'Don't be a stranger, mmkay?' he turns to walk away, to jerk off to that image of you as you are right now, when you halt him with one question. 'Satoru?' he turns to look at you, when you sit up on your desk suddenly, his heart pounds as blood rushes to his cock, as you nervously cross your legs, tilting your head to the side. 'How much for twenty minutes of your time?'

hehe there will be quite a few of these- our boy is DOWN BAD

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ I'M JEALOUS AND I'M GOING CRAZY

BACKSTAGE WITH IDOL BF JISUNG

pairings: park jisung x fem! idol reader genre: fluff wc: 0.9k warnings: jealousy (it's cute tho I promise!) + they makeout notes : found this hidden away in the drafts guys.. no idea if it's proofread 🧍‍♀️| LIBRARY

EDIT!! if you saw the drama mentioned in the notes... no you didn't I DO NOT SUPPORT yk who's behaviour and COMPLETELY forgot to take it out before posting, im very sorry gang 🙏

Jisung is confused. Beyond it in fact.

"Just tell me what it is," his voice echoes, earning a few too many unwanted stares as he runs down the hall.

Oh, the things he does for you

You're not letting up, and he's been trailing after you ever since you decided that running through the multiple empty dressing rooms backstage was a good idea, for whatever reason.

Well, you weren't really running, more so speed walking away from him, weaving in and out of hallways and doors.

Had it not been for your practically fluorescent outfit from the stage you'd just performed, he'd barely have been able to catch sight of you bolting away from him in the first place.

Jisung's certain you'd never been this fast before, practically out of breath from following after you.

Combined with the fatigue from his performance a few minutes ago and trailing after you like a lost puppy, Jisung begins to grow tired

Again he's not entirely sure why you're doing it, or what you're doing really, but if it has anything to do with the small pout on your lips and the slightly puffed out cheeks you wear then maybe Jisung has a few ideas

it doesn't take a genius to figure out something has you upset, not upset in a heartbroken way, or else Jisung would have noticed any tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but more in a way that somethings bothering you.

Though it doesn't matter much to Jisung just how upset you are, clearly not very, all that does matter is that you are.

And usually Jisung was an expert at reading you, knowing what was wrong like some psychic mind reader with a purple globe in his palms with one single glance at you— if you'd just look at him— which you hadn't since the good luck kiss he'd planted on your cheek before you went up on stage exactly an hour ago.

When he stepped off stage today, ready to pull you into his arms and let himself bask in the sweetness of your praise, telling him how well he did on stage, you weren't there and Jisung's big gummy smile dropped at the sight of you, straight faced lying across the couch in his dressing room instead.

Honestly speaking, he had no idea what could have possibly gone wrong in the last hour, but he was certainly determined to find out.

"You guys did great out there" you smiled as the group of 7 piled into the room, genuine but small, congratulating all of his members, as you usually did, only you didn't spend any time gushing over him.

Safe to say your boyfriend had noticed, and now, as you find yourself reaching a dead end with no escape, you know you're going to have to come face to face with Jisung, and the ugly green feeling bubbling inside of you

His arms hang low at your waist when he finally catches you in the middle of your dressing room, a slight smirk across his lips at the victory of stopping you from running away.

"Look at me baby" his two fingers hold your chin to guide your head so it would tilt upwards and face him.

"What's up?"

You shake your head, gaze darting left and right to avoid his eyes. Jisung chuckles to himself

"Tell me what's wrong, come on, please?" he follows your eyes as they change direction, shifting so he's the only thing in your line of sight.

You sigh, crossing your arms, lips protruding outwards, "You'll laugh, Sung."

Gosh, Jisung just wants to smash his lips against yours— but there are bigger problems at hand– like his awfully pouty girlfriend standing sulking in front of him.

"You know I'll never laugh at you," he says, soft and kind. You hate that it makes the ugly feeling inside of you grow stronger.

Why did he have to be so damn sweet?

"Well, uh-" you hesitate "it's nothing, I was just being silly Sung" you nod your head, as if to convince yourself but Jisung pulls you back before you can even attempt to walk away

"If it made you upset its not silly okay, now tell me, what's got my girl like this hmm?"

"Next time you're on stage," you sigh, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. "Roll your sleeves down." Your eyes meet the floor at the request, Jisung staring down at his arms

"That's it?" he holds back a laugh, though his lips can't help but curve upwards, and his eyes fill with adoration at the sight of you so shy.

"Well I don't exactly want everyone staring at my boyfriend and his pretty arms, you're already perfect as it is" you protest, tone completely sincere "you don't need to be perfect for anyone but me" you huff, crossing your arms as you decide you've said enough.

Apparently not.

"You should've heard the girls backstage checking you out every time your muscles flexed." Your eyes roll, and Jisung can't help but find it cute, the disgusted scrunch of your nose.

He extends his forearm out to you, smiling.

"These arms are all for you, okay? so you can roll my sleeves down just as far as you'd like."

"Don't have to ask me twice," you mutter under your breath, just loud enough that he hears, tugging at the material that rested mid way up his arm.

"Yeah?" he chuckles again, "well, next time, tell the girls backstage too, " he smiles. "I'm all yours"

You hum, you could do one better, "let's show them instead."

You practically eating his lips off in the music bank hallway was not part of Jisung's agenda tonight, but he can't help the feeling of content that washes over him as you roughly move your lips over his, fingers interlaced with his, putting on an absolute show for everyone who'd walk past. With his sleeves rolled all the way down, of course.

Couldn't put too much of a show on now, could you?

God Jisung loves when you get all jealous over him

tags: @yizhrt @suzayaaa @nanawrlds @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @flaminghotyourmom @jisworlds @jenobubbles @nctdreamchaser @lotties-readings @mystverse @chenlezip @blondemrk @17ericas

[bingbongsupremacy]

Surprise Boyfriend

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus size reader

Warning: Cursing, mentions that reader is plus size but doesn't emphasises, insecurities

Summary: You're in love with Eddie but he doesn't like you back. Right? You're just friends. That's why it's so surprising when he asks to meet your parents.

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

I’m not sure when things started to change between Eddie and me. We've been friends for a while, hanging out after school, talking about everything from Dungeons & Dragons to heavy metal. We joke around, complain about the crazy world around us, and escape to our own little bubble where things just make sense. But lately? It feels different.

Eddie’s always been a little flirty with me. It's just his nature. He’s got that sarcastic charm that comes with being an all-around badass—a wild, untamed guy that everyone notices. His long, messy hair, the leather jacket he always wears, his constant rock ‘n’ roll vibe, and, of course, the undeniable smirk that’s always on his face. I never really thought much of it. We’re friends. He’s just Eddie being Eddie. But now? I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it.

The way he looks at me sometimes. The way his arm casually drapes around my shoulders when we sit close. The way he holds my hand, like it’s something natural, like we’ve been doing it forever.

But then I remember—Eddie’s the kind of guy who’s into wild, pretty girls. Not… well, not me. I’m not thin, I’m not what everyone expects. I’ve got extra weight, and I always feel like I’m the last person someone like Eddie would ever want to date. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all, and I’m just his friend. Nothing more.

It’s a Saturday, and we’re lying on Eddie’s bed again, watching one of those cheesy 80s slasher flicks. We’ve been here for hours, the room filled with the scent of old pizza and the faint smell of smoke from the joint we shared earlier. Eddie’s strumming his guitar quietly in the corner, the soft music blending with the sounds of the TV. He’s so comfortable here, and for the first time in a long while, I feel relaxed too.

"So..." Eddie glances over at me, his eyes mischievous. “When am I gonna meet your parents?”

My heart skips a beat, and I turn to face him, unsure of what he’s getting at. “What?” I ask, the word coming out a little more confused than I intended.

“You know,” he says, still grinning. “I feel like I’ve spent enough time with you, your friends, and your—well, your extended family. What about the folks? When do I get to meet them?”

I blink, unsure if he’s joking or being serious. “Eddie, what the hell? Why would you need to meet my parents?”

He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair, his expression turning slightly more serious, but there’s still a playful edge to it. “Because, Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

I laugh a little, but then I catch the look in his eyes. He’s not joking. Or at least, he doesn’t seem to think he’s joking. My breath catches in my throat. “Boyfriend?” I repeat, barely able to hide the confusion in my voice.

Eddie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Y/N, come on. We’ve been going on dates for months. I even took you to that picnic last weekend, remember? We smoked a little weed, and I bought you dinner afterward. That’s a date, sweetheart. Plus I invite you to my shows and then dinner afterward. I consider that a date.”

I swallow hard. Oh god. I didn’t realize that’s what that was. I thought we were just hanging out, just… being us. I mean, Eddie’s invited people to see his band before, so I just assumed this was another one of those things. He’s always friendly to everyone. And yeah, we’ve shared some quiet moments together, but I never thought it meant what he clearly thinks it does.

“But you invite everyone to your shows, Eddie,” I say, trying to explain myself, my voice trembling a little. “I thought you were just being nice, like you always are. Like, friendly Eddie.”

He narrows his eyes at me, leaning in a little closer. “I’m always nice, sure. But I don't pay for everyone's dinner. Being nice isn't the same thing as asking someone on a date, is it?” He gives me a pointed look, clearly a little frustrated.

I chew on my lip, still unsure of what I’m missing. “I don’t know, Eddie,” I say quietly. “I just thought… we were friends.”

He grins, his usual cocky charm returning. “I thought we were more than that. I mean, come on. We’ve been holding hands, sharing this bed, watching movies together. You’re practically my girlfriend without all the labels.”

I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks as I glance down at my hands. He’s right—we’ve been close. Really close. But I never thought of it in those terms. I’m not used to being the girl who gets that kind of attention. Especially not from someone like Eddie.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt that way. I didn’t think you wanted to be with me.”

Eddie gently takes my hand, squeezing it softly. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? You’re incredible. You’ve been there for me, Y/N. You come to all my shows, you cheer me on like you’re my biggest fan. You support me—like a girlfriend would. I thought you knew.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Does he really feel that way about me?

The weight of his words settles on me, and I begin to understand. He’s been there for me too, in his own way. He’s always included me, always been there to make me laugh, always made sure I felt important. I start to realize that maybe I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me this whole time.

“We’ve been hanging out so much,” I say, a little embarrassed, “I just thought it was normal. I mean, I never thought you were asking me out. I thought you were just… being Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, the tenderness in his eyes making my chest tighten. “I get it,” he says. “But I’ve been asking you out, Y/N. We’ve been going on dates. I don’t do this with anyone else, you know. It’s always been you.”

I nod, trying to process everything. The hand-holding, the moments when he pulls me closer when we’re sitting next to each other, the way he makes sure I’m always part of whatever he’s doing. He’s been showing me, in his own way, that he cares.

“You’re right,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

Eddie brushes a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle, and I can’t help but melt into it. “Well, now you do,” he says softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I smile, feeling something shift between us. Maybe I’ve been blind to it all along. Maybe I was the one who didn’t see what was right there in front of me. But now I do. And somehow, knowing that Eddie really does want to be with me makes everything feel right.

As Eddie leans back, his arm sliding across my shoulders, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m finally seeing things clearly. And I can’t help but wonder what the next step for us is.

[joontroverted]

of course other women want your boyfriend

pairing: nanami kento x reader

tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.

"your dad's kinda hot."

the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.

you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.

no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.

and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.

"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.

her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"

you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.

"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"

"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.

"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.

that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.

"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"

"there you are, sweetheart."

kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.

nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.

almost.

"ken!" you breathe.

"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"

"hey!"

his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"

"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.

"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"

"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.

"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.

"sweetheart, i think- "

you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.

"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"

"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.

"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."

she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.

kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.

"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"

aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.

you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.

"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."

his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.

deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.

kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.

"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."

warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.

"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.

aiko!

you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"

aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.

DO NOT REPOST

yay first fic!!!

likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷

[beanarie]

this is not the next installment of "buck takes a mental health break". i mean, it is, but i'm skipping around a little.

~

"My godbaby just had a lovely christening, Uncle Buck."

"Athena! Hey. Oh, uh. Was that today?" He squints at his alerts. "No one's sent me photos yet."

"Yeah, huh. That was today. Guess the days are less distinguishable out on the open road. What have you been up to? Maddie tells me about your adventures. Didn't see you as a Graceland type of guy."

"That was Albert's idea."

"Oh, he dragged you there, did he? That whip of a thing that you could break like a toothpick?" She sounds good, far lighter than she did the last time he saw her, about a week after Bo's birth.

"Okay, I admit I was a little curious."

"And?"

"Did you know Elvis had an identical twin?"

"What?"

"Jesse. He was stillborn."

"So there could've been two of him walking around," she says. "Interesting thought. Is that all you got from it?"

"He lived in a regular place first, but his neighbors didn't like dealing with the crowds, so he asked his parents to find him a farmhouse."

"A farmhouse?" She laughs.

"Yeah." He chuckles quietly. "It didn't stay that way. You know, when I first saw it, I wondered why anyone would ever need that much. It felt greedy."

"It is!"

"Yeah, no. It is. Just. He didn't start out wanting a palace. He tried something much quieter, more- more normal. The people around him didn't like it."

She makes a thoughtful noise. "Listen, Buck. If you find a place that feels more like home-" She pauses. "Or feels the way this place used to feel, you hold onto it. Don't cut yourself off from something that could be exactly what you need just because it's new. That's an order, Firefighter."

"Understood," he says, blinking rapidly. "I- How are you holding up, Athena?"

"Today was a good day," she says, a little brittle. "I had one last week, too."

"Tell me about it?" he asks, tentatively, unsure if it's his place. And she does.

~

(Buck): Hey, when do I need to make a decision about coming back?

(Hen): What do you mean "make a decision"?

(Hen): You really don't know if you're coming back

(Buck): It still hurts

(Hen): I know. That will never go away completely. Bobby was too important.

(Buck): Not him. You guys. You said I made myself small, but I didn't just decide to do that. It was what everyone clearly wanted.

(Hen): Oh, Buck

(Buck): It might be better if I join another house

(Hen): Is that what you want?

(Buck): Not really

(Buck): But I can't go back to whatever that was. No one would talk to me. I felt like I was on fire.

Hen bubbles him for quite a while. Buck finishes his sandwich and brushes the sand off his pant legs. The sun is strong today, but there's enough of a breeze coming off the water that it doesn't feel overwhelming.

(Hen): I think because we knew your grief would be a lot, we didn't know how to handle it on top of our own. So we didn't even open the door. Then enough time went by, it seemed like you were past the worst of it and bringing it up might cause you to backslide.

Buck stares at her words and listens to the waves crashing.

(Hen): That doesn't make it okay

(Hen): I think Bobby would be pissed at us

(Hen): No, I KNOW he'd have thoughts. Loud ones. He loved you.

(Buck): He told me that, you know. That night.

(Hen): Did he?

(Buck): I didn't say it back

(Hen): He knew. We all knew.

(Hen): I'm sorry, Buck. I really am. This goes a little further than forgetting your birthday.

(Buck): I don't have a yard, or gutters. I don't have a house.

(Hen): I'll help you find one. When you're ready. Just say the word.

tagging: @peppermintquartz @chococara25 connected-dots, tumblr won't let me tag you

[show, you cannot tell me hen and buck have the kind of friendship where he does yard work for DAYS to make up for forgetting her birthday but she leaves him to drown alone in his grief and that's just, fine. do me a fucking favor]

[weebsinstash]

Sitting here watching that clip of Valentino with that demon girl going "you're gorgeous! Do you need a job? 🥰" and started thinking of Val either intentionally or unintentionally making Reader feel massively insecure and ugly and Val using that to manipulate them

I've mentioned "oh what if your job is serving him drinks at his club" but what if he also starts dragging you along when he goes out like some kind of weird PA. Like he's just throwing random bills at you that he clearly isn't counting like it's pocket change in a very "yeah sure whatever just do it bitch" kind of way so you put up with it, it's good income, but it's still... WEIRD. He's going to get his antenna done at the salon, and you're like. Having to STAND THERE beside his chair, you're not even in the lobby waiting room, you've gotta be WITH HIM, and you just get all these windows into his cunty personality where he's spoiled and mean to service workers and is a total fucking diva and it's extremely off-putting I'm sure

He's in a night club hitting on people whose bodies are absolutely insane like I'm talking GYATT city, ass and titties, you've got twunks and you've got hunks, and you're like, in sneakers, off to the side, head down playing games on your phone since you can't even put earbuds in because you unfortunately have to keep an ear open since he'll order YOU to bring drinks, not just for him, but for these complete strangers who don't even work for him too, AND he'll let them be fucking mean to you. You bring some bubble butt twink who's on Val's arm the daiquiri he asked for and he gives you a very clear look up and down before laughing, cuddling up to Val, "yeah I can SEE you need new employees 😋" and they all laugh Including Fucking Valentino

I dunno, I'm on the fence. It really changes with the story. You get the yandere who are obsessive but more abusive-adjacent and then you have the more true-blooded kind that won't accept any slander of you at all. Like can you imagine Valentino's smile just dropping off his face because some chick like, tells you you have cellulite or even something MILD like your mascara is bad or idk what are, male insults.... you have a flat ass??? And Valentino just instantly shoves them away "okay you're done bye, let the door hit you on the way out 🤭"

But today we're talking about angst and feeling fucking miserable so. Over time it just, makes you feel so horrible about yourself to go to these nightclubs. It isn't even about fucking Valentino, it's about how you're sitting here watching everyone EXCEPT YOU receive all this fawning and compliments and attention, even if Val is faking some of it just to lure in more workers. You see a girl who has the perfect skin and you run fingers over an ice pick scar on your cheek, male reader sees a guy who's tall but muscular with nice facial hair and you feel your own baby face and smaller build, there are people thinner than you, curvier than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and you watch all of them get called gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and sexy and you're just the fucking dweeb who gets teased, mocked, BULLIED

One night Valentino is sitting there talking to another girl, "oh my gosh, honey, I would TOTALLY do body shots off of you. Hey, can we get some shots over here? .... helllooooo, I SAID can we get some shots? ...bitch if you make me repeat myself again--" and he looks over and you're not even there. It's like ice. Suddenly without warning you're not there and he doesn't know what to do because you're ALWAYS there and whenever you're not it's because he LETS YOU leave??? Like??? He's immediately standing up even if it knocks away the people hanging off of him and he's looking around, "you BETTER be in the fucking bathroom--"

And over the crowd of people he sees you on the opposite end of the club, as if you were actively trying to put as much distance between you two as possible, and you're with a guy, some big furry monster boy, and you laugh with a big smile and Valentino GRINDS his teeth as he realizes it's been ages since you laughed around him, let alone at anything HE'S said, and you're actually drinking with this guy where you would always be way too stiff and cautious around Val (although he also really wouldn't let you drink anyways, being more of a waiter when you're 'on the clock')

Obsessed with the idea of Val making Reader carry around combs and brushes to comb his antenna/fur and Val sees you using them on another guy. like I think he'd go absolutely violently fucking crazy honestly because 1. Those are HIS and he is a bougie Gucci material man like those are high quality things being used on some RANDO 2. Those are for HIM, you're using them on someone ELSE 3. The person using them on someone else is YOU, YOU'RE brushing another man, YOU'RE cuddling another man like some kind of UNGRATEFUL WHORE--

When I say you suddenly look up and you're being GRABBED, HAULED UP to your feet by your arm, grip on you so tight it's ready to fucking bruise, and Val just shoots this guy in the head, like cartoonishly powerful gun just splatters the dudes head from what should have been just a single bullet hole I'm sure. You're like vaguely traumatized and trying to tell yourself the man will regenerate and be fine but now Valentino's got a gun in his hand and he's furious and you just start CRYING. He doesn't even CARE about the people he was flirting with anymore, if he has any employees in the club with him he doesn't even call out that it's time to go, he just starts DRAGGING YOU to the limo and will just LEAVE EVERYONE there because he's in such a rage, also, have you guys seen the posts where people point out there are moth squeaking effects when he speaks sometimes. So he's just fucking mad, voice cracking, shouting, squeaking, and i think it'd be funny if he spends like 15 minutes screaming about THE GUY while he has you like all but glued to his lap on the ride home and doesn't say a single thing about what you did. Just manic ranting on his phone as he HAS to call Vox, "oh my god you wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what this piece of shit did in front of me, the ugliest fucking guy I've ever seen was--" and you're like trembling wondering when he's going to pivot and realize like, you were also. Intentionally willingly sitting with that guy.

But he doesn't even like. Acknowledge it that way. He just keeps ranting about the guy touching something that doesn't belong to him, he's gotta replace all his fucking combs now, oh my GOD Vox like SERIOUSLY-- and then it's probably Vox that's like, with a disinterested voice, "sooooo.... WHICH whore did this happen to again???" And Valentino without hesitating just straight up says your name, "the nerdy one, you KNOW which one I'm talking about"

And that's when you just start to blubber cause you're tired and you're tipsy and you're mentally worn down, "oh OF COURSE I'm 'the nerdy one'!! You drag me all over the fucking place and I never get any time to myself and I have to WATCH everyone ELSE have fun, and when I finally find someone who calls ME cute, calls ME pretty, you fucking SHOOT HIM!" and you're just, face in your hands crying and you can't see it as Valentino GRINS like some fucking MONSTER because, "Aw, pobrecita, is that what this is about? You're lonely? ❤️w❤️"

And you're just mad and crying and pouting and you're telling him to go fuck himself and actually starting to get a little mouthy and have an attitude with him and he doesn't even care because how upset you're getting is going right to his head. even if you don't want to, you're jealous of him giving other people attention instead of you, and now he's watching you get all upset and sniffly over it and he's so full of himself, this makes him feel so powerful that he's reduced you to this insecure bawling state, and he's rubbing your shoulders, "awwww, don't cry mami, you should've told me you were wanting some 'attention'"

At this point you could be literally slapping his hands away but he's gonna keep pulling you close to him on purpose and NOW, now he's laying on all the fucking compliments, stroking the tops of your thighs. He knows exactly what scent you're using in your hair. Oh, you're wearing the nail polish you bought during one of your first months here; he's always liked this color on you. He's commenting and bringing up things you didn't expect him to notice let alone remember about you and... you're just so weak to it.... you're lonely... and he's here... and maybe it's the smoke or his cologne or what but he smells so good, he's so close, your head feels a little funny--

The rest of your night blurs together after that, but when you wake up, you're not at your place, or the studio, or anywhere you mildly recognize. You're in a bed way too big for someone your size, and you're especially not used to SOMEONE ELSE BEING IN IT WITH YOU. Val just has you caged in all of his arms and is passed out drooling in a post alcohol, post drug, post fuckathon coma, and you can FEEL in your muscles and in your body that you two were up to some wiiiiiild shit together.

IF you may manage to sneak out of V Tower without being stopped or caught, it won't make hin suddenly forget all the things you told him, or him now knowing how it feels to have your hands on his body, or how it looks to have your big sad wet eyes looking up at him and then sparkling with one of his compliments. Usually he WANTS bitches to be gone when he wakes up but, this time? When those eyes open and you're not there? Instantly feeling rejected, mad, irritated, he can't exactly identify why, he's just MAD you ran off without telling him and he's instantly blowing up your line to figure out where you are, and now you have become a recipient of The Voice-mails

"Heeeeeeey, baby, so, it's so funny but I just woke up and I can't find you in the tower? Did you run off to get breakfast somewhere? You KNOW you shouldn't run off without telling me first; I need you to come on back here ❤️"

"-- so answer your phone you fucking SLUT!! You better not be with another fucking guy, or I swear to fucking GOD--"

"--It just stresses me out that there are so many different kinds of people down here, I worry someone might hurt you, amorcito. I can't help protect you if I'm not there, soooooo, why don't you just, tell me where you are--"

"Is this fucking funny for you, you cunt?! You get all worked up about how PATHETIC AND SAD you are and then leave me? Leave ME? ME?! You're LUCKY i even TOUCHED YOU AT ALL--"

"Heeeeeeey, oh my gosh so this is so funny ummmm, Vox just let me know that Velvette borrowed you for something, soooooooooo, please don't listen to any of those other voicemails, ok? You know how CRAZY you make me, right? Don't forget you have a shift tonight, and if you even think about not showing up, I have some hellhounds that know your scent already and they'll drag you back here by your hair, sooooo, see you later love you byeeeeee ❤️"

[sturnioz]

about the one where fratboy!chris doesn't let shy!reader meet his family I THOUGHT ABT SOMETHING

sooo imagine chris's mom otp while he's with reader then reader gets her hopes up thinking chris would somehow mention who he's with right now but he doesn't and it ends up into reader with hurt feelings and chris just being an asshole like it's no big deal

i lowkey wanna be hurt rn GIMME ANGST

you're staring wide eyed at chris, completely captivated at the voice he uses to talk to marylou on the phone — his tone soft and gentle, almost childlike, and he grins at the words she speaks, his eyes twinkling with warmth, causing a smile to creep across your lips.

it's a side of him you've never seen before, and you can't help but feel a flutter of admiration in your chest.

as he walks around his room, his phone cradled in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other, you're stuck watching how tenderly he engages with his mother. his expression constantly shifts between playful to genuine care and adoration.

"yeah, ma. everythin' is good," chris hums softly, placing his phone on the desk and pressing the speaker icon, allowing his mother's voice to fill the room. "classes are good too."

"and how is nick? has he been over recently?"

"y'know nick would rather die than come into the frat house—"

"oh, chris, you know i don't like you saying things like that to me. don't say that."

"sorry, ma," chris apologises sincerely, and you're taken aback by the softness in his tone. it's a complete contrast to the condescending way he usually speaks to you, often laced with sarcasm and mockery. the apology feels so genuine that it makes your heart flutter once more. "he doesn't like it here. prefers to meet up some place else."

"as long as you're seeing each other, that's all that matters," marylou says softly. "'cos your dad and i were worried that you wouldn't spend much time with him with your new living arrangements and all."

"no, no. we're good, we see each other a lot," chris reassures her as he pulls his jeans up his legs, threading his belt through the loops. "you don't need to worry, ma. i promise. we're actually goin' to get dinner tonight. nate's comin' along too."

you knew about the dinner tonight — though you weren't invited of course, you were all too aware of the plans.

"oh, nate," marylou coos softly at the mention of him. "and how is—"

her words are cut off when the book resting in your lap slips from your grasp and falls to the ground with a loud thud, causing chris' head to snap in your direction, momentarily pausing mid-motion.

he then grabs his plain white t-shirt, glaring at you as your lips form a tight-lipped, apologetic smile as you reach down to retrieve the book, your neck and cheeks burning with embarrassment. chris shakes his head at you with a quiet scoff, clearly unimpressed.

"is anyone there with you?" marylou asks curiously, her tone riddled with warmth and inviting.

your heart races as your head shoots up, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside you. you take a deep breath, ready to introduce yourself properly, hoping to make a good first impression.

"no. just some dumb frat kid next door makin' noise." chris immediately shuts it down, his tone dismissive, and your smile immediately drops from your face, a wave of discomfort twisting in your stomach and chest.

the disappointment stings more than you expected, and you can't help but feel small under his words. you tune out chris and marylou's conversation now, the warmth you felt just moments ago fading into an ache deep within you. mindlessly, you flip through the pages of you book, the words blurring together as your interest in that simmers too.

you don't even realise chris is saying goodbye to his mom, using a sweet tone that would have definitely made you swoon if you were paying attention. you completely miss the heartfelt 'i miss yous' and 'i love yous' shared between them too.

it's only when you feel the bed dip that your attention snaps back to reality, and you raise your gaze to see chris sitting on the edge, pulling on a pair of white socks before reaching for his black converse.

"m'gonna get matt to take you back to your place," chris announces nonchalantly, as if his earlier words hadn't left an impact. "gotta go that way t'get nick anyways."

"'kay." you reply, trying to keep your tone light.

chris twists his head to peer over his shoulder at you, his fingers busy tying his laces. his brows furrow in confusion as he stares at you. "what?"

you murmur back, "what?"

"whats the matter with you?" he asks, annoyance creeping into his voice. "actin' all weird on me. quieter than usual—"

"why didn't you tell your mom i was with you?" the question slips out before you can even think to stop it, a mix of hurt and vulnerability lacing your words.

chris gives you a look that makes you feel foolish, as if you've just asked the most ridiculous question. "why would i?"

his bluntness stings again, and you feel a flush of embarrassment wash over you. it's not just the question that bothers you; it's the slow realisation that he doesn't see how much you wish to be acknowledged, to be part of his world in a way that feels meaningful — more than a casual hook-up, maybe even as a friend.

you swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "i just thought... maybe it would be nice, is all."

chris shrugs, turning back to his shoes. "s'not a big deal, kid."

"it is to me." the words slip out before you can hold them back again, a somewhat desperate plea for an understanding.

"why?" he asks immediately, looking back at you once more. "it shouldn't mean shit to you."

"you know my mom," you state. "you... you've spoken to my mom before, and—"

"'cos that was your choice, kid. yeah? 'n this is my choice," he points to his chest to emphasis his words, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race. "y'want me to tell my mom that i've got some girl in my room? have her question shit? nah... i keep my family life separate to what i do here."

his words hit hard. you understand his need for boundaries, but it hurts to feel so easily dismissed, and the ache in your chest deepens. you want to argue back, to make him see your side, but the words catch in your throat and you fall silent,

[averycutesalamander]

hello baefy….. humbly requesting 18 or 24 from that list you rbed:3 with the silly cowboy….. geheheheh

BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE !!!!! kinda did my own twist on this one :) suggestive toward the end

24: Tracing your names together in the sand.

Boothill has to admit that you have impeccable taste in vacation spots, because he's not sure he's ever seen a beach as stunning as this one. 

The water is incredibly reflective to the point that he can't see beyond the surface, which gleams like molten, glittering silver in the daylight. The sand on the beach is exceptional as well; it's white and strangely glassy, shifting colors depending on the angle he looks at it from. The view when the two of you first emerged from the treeline was fantastic – a kaleidoscope of color meeting with a sea of silver, stretching into the horizon. He's not even sure how the hell you managed to find this place, because there's not a soul in sight other than the two of you. 

Oh, but it all pales in comparison to the sheer look of awe that envelops your expression the moment you lay eyes on the scenery. 

(There's so many ways that he finds you beautiful, but there's something a bit exceptional about the way you look like this – continuously and routinely dazzled by the world around you, no matter how many other fantastical sights you've seen. His chest aches with an affection so deep and heartfelt that he swears it'll kill him, one day.)

You were tentative about this location, admittedly; his body can handle water just fine, but it forces him to replace parts more often – doubly so for salt water. Thankfully, this is a freshwater beach – which means he can get into the water with you without too much concern. The water is pleasantly cool, which lets him seal off his vents without much worry of overheating. He still sinks like a rock, granted, but the water is shallow enough that he's at no risk of accidentally drowning himself. 

It's not so shallow that he can't vanish under the surface, however; he can hold his breath quite a bit longer than a human – and what kind of man would he be if he didn't use it for nefarious purposes?

Surprisingly, visibility beneath the surface is impeccable; it's almost crystal clear aside from a faint grey hue. Naturally, this means he can see exactly where you are – but the opposite isn't true at all. He lurks beneath the water, crawling around like the horrible little goblin he is, circling you as you cluelessly marvel at the mirror-like surface above; you were so mesmerized by it when he went under that he's certain you haven't even realized he's vanished. Tiny fish dart away from him as he prowls, retreating under stones or into miniscule burrows in the sand below. 

When he gets close enough to you, he brushes his fingers against your ankle – just hard enough to be suspicious. He retreats backwards as you jump, and he grins wildly at the muffled yelp that escapes you as you spin around. 

Through the water, he hears you grumble, “Oh, that is so unfair.”

He laughs despite himself, bubbles escaping his nose; your goggles are still in your bag on the shore, which means you're practically blind. 

He only realizes his mistake when you turn right toward where he's hiding – and lunge.  

He yelps as he scrambles away, just barely dodging your seeking hands as he flees into deeper water. You fumble for a moment while the sand and water settles, then promptly give up once you've realized that he's slipped away. 

“C’mere, little sharky,” you croon, spinning slowly as you search for any sign of him. “I thought you wanted to play?” 

Oh, he'll certainly play. 

Now that he's sure he's hidden again, he resumes his gradual circling, careful not to move too quickly, lest he disturb the surface and give himself away. His hair drifts around him like a curtain of silk, and he can feel the grit of sand in his joints, but he already knows this is going to be worth it. You don't move away from the spot you're standing in, clearly trying to spot him – but he's cautious enough that he won't give anything away. Gradually, he closes in on you, his lips twitching in open amusement. 

He leans closer, ever-so-slowly, careful not to disturb the water – and then he takes a chomp at your calf, careful to angle his teeth in a way that will only scrape, but not pierce. 

You jump damn near two feet out of the water in surprise, and the cutest little shriek leaves your throat. He's honestly expecting you to move away instinctually – but you catch him off guard when you leap toward him again, faster than before. He squawks as he scuttles away again, but this time, he's too slow and too close, and your hand grabs blindly onto his ankle. 

Ah, fuck. 

He flails like a caught fish – which he supposes he is, at the moment – careful not to use too much force but earnestly trying to slip out of your grasp. You don't let him get away, splashing down halfway on top of him as you blindly fumble to get a grip on him. 

Then, he grins, wide and wicked and menacing. He braces himself on the sand and surges upwards, gathering you up in his arms and laughing triumphantly as you flail and giggle. He clenches you tight against his chest as you squirm, burying his face into the crook of your neck and chomping theatrically, noises and all – though he's careful not to catch your skin on his teeth, so he's more or less mouthing at you like a fish. 

He only lets you push him away when you start to go breathless with laughter. He pulls away, grinning down at you. “Looks like you're just chum, now.” 

You're still snickering as you ask, “Am I tasty chum, at least?”

A lascivious look crosses his eyes, and he leans down toward you and purrs, “Oh, you're delicious, baby.” 

He watches in delight as the euphemism hits you full-force, your eyes widening as you sputter. Then, he waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, instantly breaking the atmosphere he created, and you both burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all. 

“You're such a fucking dork,” you snicker, pressing your face into his chest as he turns and starts to cart you off to the shore. “I can't believe anyone thinks you're intimidating.”

“I'm plenty intimidating!” he proclaims haughtily. A moment later, he reopens his vents to let some of the heat escape; the sun is already warming him significantly, but it doesn't compare to the radiance of your smile.  

“I'm shaking in my boots,” you say dryly. “Practically quivering in fear.”

“You're just sayin' that because ya already play close to the fire, sugar,” he huffs as he sets you down on the towel you set up in the shade, settling next to you with his feet still in the sand. For effect, he snaps his teeth close to your nose, snickering at the way you jump. “Don't forget that I could burn ya.” 

You hum dismissively, still smiling widely as you lean closer. “But what if I like the heat?”

He grins, moving to meet you, his eyes hooded and tempting. “Well, that'd make ya a lil' fudgin' freak.” 

He laughs in sync with you, foolishly amused by it all. You press a quick kiss to his lips, clumsy with your snickering. You lean back, and the two of you stare at each other fondly, oblivious to the world around you. 

(He'll never get over how pretty you look like this – how your smile lights up the world like the sun. He'll do anything to see it again.)

Suddenly, you turn your gaze to the sand beside you, hunching over before beginning to drag your finger through it. For a moment, he thinks you're just idly fussing with it – but then he realizes that you're moving quite deliberately. 

Curious, he watches you work, openly befuddled. “What in the world are you doin’?”

“One sec,” you deflect, biting on your lip in concentration. Cute. After several more seconds, you look up at him, your eyes damn near sparkling. Brightly, you proclaim, “It's you!”   

He peers down at the lines in the sand, his brows furrowed. It sort of looks like a blob? Is that a… fin? Suddenly, he sees it – a cartoonish little shark, grinning widely, touting a crude version of his hat and gun. 

He bursts into laughter, hearty and earnest and so painfully endeared that it makes his chest ache. He looks over at you, and you have the dumbest, cutest fucking look on your face, so irresistible that he wants to bite you. 

“You're too cute for your own good, sweetpea,” he says, shaking his head. “‘S gonna get ya in trouble with me, one of these days.” 

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “Oh, no,” you drawl, long and exaggerated. “I'm so scared. Whatever will you do with me?”

His smirk widens into something devious. “I dunno,” he drawls. “Come over here and find out.”

“And fall right into your trap?” you say skeptically, raising your brows. “You're gonna have to try harder than that.”

He hums, giving you an evaluating look; then, he drops his gaze down to your cute little doodle in the sand. 

Hm… He thinks it could use some company. 

He slowly begins to trace a tiny drawing of his own, biting down on his tongue as he focuses. You watch eagerly as he scrawls, and when he's done, he looks up at you with the goofiest grin he can conjure. 

You squint, peering at the lines quizzically. “Is that… a shrimp?” 

“Yep,” he snickers boyishly. “‘Cause you're my cute lil' shrimp. Bite-sized n’ everything.”

You laugh, your eyes sparkling. “Oh, I'll show you bite-sized.”

(Hook, line, and sinker.)

Just as he hoped, you pounce on him playfully, and now you've become the devious shark, chomping obnoxiously at his jaw and cheeks like it's your life's purpose. He laughs and lets you have your fun, pushing at you with just enough force to be playful – though he does legitimately start to squirm when you begin to target the place where his skin meets his metal; he doubts that he'll ever get used to that strange dual sensation. You cling to him like a leech, though, relentless in your assault. 

Then, in one quick motion, he grabs you by the waist and flips you, grinning at the way you yelp as he pins you onto the towel. 

“Didn't have to try that hard to catch ya, huh?” he says smugly, a note of mischief in his voice. 

To his surprise, you meet him with a look twice as sly. 

“Are you sure I'm the one that got caught?” you ask, your eyes glittering with mischief.

Before he can even fully process what you've said, you clench your fist carefully in his hair, yanking him down until he meets your lips in a bruising kiss; he groans quietly into your mouth, a heated thrill of pleasure skittering up his spine. He leans further into you as you slowly comb your fingers through his hair, and he shivers when you nibble at his lip. Obediently, he lets you press your tongue slightly into his mouth, slowly tracing the sharp points of his teeth. 

All too soon, you tug him away by the roots of his hair, and he has to bite back a disgruntled whine when his lips break away from yours. 

“Say,” you begin slowly, your smile widening deviously, “I think I got some sand under my bathing suit.” With a heated look in your eyes, you lean closer, just out of reach of his lips. “Do you think you could help, honeybee?” 

He swallows heavily, caught off-guard by your intensity – but he certainly isn't opposed. 

“I'm sure I can figure somethin' out,” he rasps, raking his eyes down your body. Slowly, his fingers trace up the heated skin of your thighs, skirting closer to your hips. 

…Perhaps there are some unforeseen benefits to finding such an isolated beach. 

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[rui-xyz]

『Make Your Dreams Come True』⇝♡

⭒Alt. title: normal call gone booty :000

⭒Synopsis: Gojo's flirting with you over the phone, as usual, when you suddenly ask him to come over...

⭒Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, subby satoru ml, reader and Gojo are both switchy tho, afab!reader, fingering, dick riding, not clearly stated that reader/gojo are virgins but you can imagine it, reader/gojo are best friends at the start, lots of the word "baby", implied fortnite (I'm probably missing stuff but oh well)

⭒Setting: Juju high Satoru but aged up ykyk cuz his sunglasses are so mmf

⭒Notes: first post but I'm considering making this a series HELP

You and Satoru happened to be playing games together, as usual when you weren't on missions or doing schoolwork. You adjusted your headphones slightly, feeling the growing head discomfort from wearing them too long. It was worth it for Satoru, however, since he never ceased to make you laugh.

"Why would you run so far off, dude, you're gonna get sniped," you sighed, seeing how far away he was on the map.

"Pfft, I'll be fine, worry about yourself, you're one-tap."

"Maybe if my teammate decided to come help me I wouldn't be."

"You're jus' sayin' that cause you miss me."

This was the usual back-and-forth until one of you got ambushed or something. The normal flirting from Satoru while you shrugged it off with a chuckle. Though, you'd been playing for hours now, and tiredness was creeping into your skull, knocking down the filters of brain and speech one by one.

"Yeah, miss you a lot," you murmured, meaning to sound teasing. It came out all too genuine. "Wish you would come save me, Satoru."

You listened to the clacking of his keyboard, faint over your headphones. Satoru's silence made it all too easy to hear the lull in his playing, the quick pause and pickup. You looked at the map, knowing exactly what it meant. Sure enough, his ping was high-tailing it towards yours. You chuckled to yourself, feeling warmth in your chest. What a hero.

"Something funny?"

"No, no, you're just down bad for me is all," you spoke slyly.

"As if I try to hide it."

"Y'know, I reread our chats when I want an ego boost."

"You serious?" He snickered.

"Yeah. All the times you've called me gorgeous and told me I had a nice ass..."

"Wait, waitwaitwait-"

You heard the clacking of his keyboard stop entirely. Pausing, you realized and looked at your phone, tapping into your messenger. His typing bubble was up, as expected. You continued walking towards him in the game as you waited for his message to come up.

"Ok, there."

You turned to your phone and deadpanned.

S͟a͟t͟o͟r͟u͟u͟u͟u͟u͟ ͟🥺͟️͟🥺͟️͟:͟

Beautiful tits

And rack

You shook your head and hastily typed back 'nice cock' before picking up where you were. You heard his phone go off, a few seconds go by, then his seductive voice spoke to you again.

"Wanna see it, baby?"

"Bet."

He breathed out a laugh and you continued playing, occasionally speaking your mind a bit too much from grogginess. The sleep deprivation had started to show in your voice, though.

"You tired or something? Need a sleebge?"

"Yuh, I'm eepy," you yawned, rubbing one of your eyes. "But let's just finish this match."

"We're gonna lose if you're nodding off while you're getting cracked. Might as well quit while we're ahead."

"Ugh, that phrase. You sound like, fuckin', me." You cringed at your own phrasing, letting out another yawn.

"I wish I was fuckin' you."

After the moment it took your mind to register the words, you felt a response roll off of your tongue faster than you knew it was even there.

"Then come over."

You heard the usual chuckle that you and Satoru would share after something like that snake through your headphones. When you didn't join in, there was a pause.

"Are you... serious?"

A moment. A single moment was all it took in your tired mind to commit to this idea of yours.

"Did it sound like a joke, Satoru?"

You could hear his speechlessness, you could tell he was floundering like a fish right now, his keyboard, his screen, the whole match left completely forgotten. Once you'd had enough of the silence, you spoke to him again.

"I'm absolutely for real right now. Door's unlocked...

Lemme make your dreams come true."

"Ffffffuck."

You watched on your screen as a popup appeared. "THE_honored1 has disconnected." With a smile, you left the call, pulled off your headphones to let your ears breathe. You had just finished standing and stretching when there was a soft knock on your door. So uncharacteristic of Satoru.

You quickly checked your clothes and hair, just to make sure you didn't look like an absolute slob who had been in their gaming chair all day. Oh well, Satoru probably wasn't too far off from that himself.

You opened the door, only to find your friend was completely quiet, barely able to meet your eyes, though it seemed like he couldn't look away from them either. With a friendly smile, you stepped out of the way and motioned for him to enter. He stepped past you, hands in his pockets. You closed and locked the door behind him, then turned around just in time to feel an arm wrap around the small of your back and a hand gently grab your chin.

"I need to know..." He paused, taking a breath. He was basically panting, hot breath ghosting over you with each exhale. "I need to know right now... if you really meant it."

"Every word."

"You still do?"

"Of course."

At that, the hand under your chin pulled your face to his and his lips crashed into yours. You could feel him trembling as your arms wrapped over his shoulders, and you could feel his heart racing, beating right out of every artery in his body.

He felt sparks, fireworks, the whole nine yards, as he kissed you. His whole body seemed to stall like an old car as soon as his lips touched yours. His brain turned to mush- no, melted. Reduced to a boiling soup in his skull. Because finally, finally he was kissing you.

'Girl of my dreams' wasn't how he would describe you, but he'd dreamed of you. He'd literally seen you in his slumbering mind, and wished he could do more than just the occasional flirting and borderline sexting. Satoru had been fantasizing about you for years, it felt like, ever since you'd reached that casual first-name basis. He wanted to know what it would really be like. If those fantasies could be recreated.

And when you kissed back, waking him from the sloshing pool his mind had become, he tugged you close, bodies flush. He felt your breasts squish against his chest, one of your hands cupping the side of his head just under his ear, and God did it make him lightheaded as all the blood in his slovenly brain ran south. He could feel his voice in the back of his throat, threatening to let out a moan with every exhale. He struggled to hold it back, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you by acting like an animal in heat just from your kiss and your touch.

You couldn't say you weren't feeling anything yourself, though. You were sure that, without your bra, Satoru easily could've felt how your nipples were hardening, and your breath shook as one of his hands left your chin and sensually trailed down your side and up under your shirt. But, of course, these feelings weren't nearly as turbulent as Gojo's excitement and arousal, which were only hightened when your tongue slipped between his lips.

You softly leaned into him, tapping his leg with your foot to signal for him to move back. As you continued kissing him, you led him back to your bed, shoving him down to sit on the edge of it and finally letting your lips leave his. As you caught your breath, you crawled up onto him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you with eyes that screamed how bad he wanted you, panting heavily but still wanting more. Then, he chuckled.

"This isn't at all how I expected."

"Hmn?" You beckoned for him to explain, draping your arms over his shoulders and carding one hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

"It's all so backwards from how I pictured it. I always thought I would be the one to invite you over, run the show... be the one in charge, but fuck, I'm such a loser," he sighed out, trailing his hands over your waist and stomach under your shirt. To help him, you pulled it over your head and off, giving him better access and a nicer view.

"A loser? What, for having a girl on top of you?" You purred, trailing kisses along his cheek and jaw. "Please, there's at least a billion guys who'd sell their soul for that."

His voice and breathing trembled as he tilted his head to the side for you. "No, I mean... how I barely had the balls to even come over... Let alone ask you to."

"Trust me, baby, you can do anything if you're tired enough. Or if you're Satoru Gojo," you whispered, nibbling lightly on his ear. A shudder ran down his spine at that, and he felt like he could cum right then and there.

"Fuck... Keep talking like that and I won't last for shit."

"Yeah? And how do you think I feel when I'm touching myself to your messages, hmn?"

He let out a soft gasp as you ground your hips against his. His hands ran to your hips, gripping them and guiding them as they rolled.

"Saying I could last three minutes would be a generous estimate."

"God, you do that too?" He asked, voice coming out whiney. You let out a seductive chuckle that burned through his loins.

"Of course I do. Ego boost, remember?"

"You like when I call you gorgeous?" He sighed, feeling you throb against his crotch.

"Don't dislike it," you admitted. "You're pretty damn gorgeous yourself, though. Pretty boy Satoru."

He felt his rock solid cock twitch in his pants at your words, once again. He was doomed. His molten mind knew that, even as he helped you take his shirt off. And then your hands trailed down his chest and stomach, making him even dizzier.

"Don't think... I can take much more of this..." He admitted as your soft lips kissed down his shoulder. He could feel you smile against his skin.

"Hehe, awwwe, you close Satoru?" You giggled and gave a few harsh rolls of your hips, sending hot pleasure coursing through his lower half. He gasped, hands gripping you tightly.

"Fuck, fuck, Y/n, don't do that."

"Okay, baby, I think you've waited long a enough. Just how long, I wonder?"

It felt like his whole life. An eternity he'd waited for this, for the chance to watch you unbuckle his belt and tug his pants down and off of him, followed by you doing the same with your leggings. You crawled back on top of him, hovering over his thighs and holding his shoulder with one hand to steady yourself. Meanwhile, your other hand found its way into his boxers, and you could hear his breath hitch as your fingers wrapped around his length and slowly started stroking up and down.

"Y-you don't have to do that," he breathed out, a hand gripping your wrist. "Trust me, I'm as hard as I could get."

"Well, I should hope so. You're bigger than even I expected," you chuckled, stilling your hand and pulling it away.

He sighed softly and looked up at you through his pretty lashes with a smug look. "And what about you? Think you could take it? Think you're even ready to?"

You felt yourself clench on nothing at his words, feeling how intense his eyes were on yours. With a smile, you grabbed his hand and placed it at the waistband of your panties.

"Why don't you find out?"

His smile left his face, mouth opening as he took a breath. His eyes left yours to look at where his hand was, and his mind stalled only a moment before his fingers dipped under the fabric of your underwear and softly tugged them down.

He left them about halfway down your thighs and reached up to cup your sex. He drug a finger through your folds, feeling how wet you were and suddenly wanting nothing more than to see how much pleasure he could bring you.

He continued pulling his finger forward until he found your clit, stopping to rub gentle circles against it. He heard a soft noise fall from your lips and watched your hips just barely twitch. God, did he want to turn you into a mess.

He looked up at you and your heated expression. "Can I...?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," you spoke, sounding the least composed he'd heard you all night. Carefully, he slipped one of his fingers between your folds, stopping at a shallow depth and curling his finger to tease you.

"You want it all the way in?" He asked with a smirk on his face and a playful lilt to his voice. You bit your lip, lidding your eyes at him, and wrapped your hand back around his cock.

You watched his whole teasing nature melt away as his cock twitched in your hand, begging for friction. Silently surrendering, he pressed his finger deeper until your cunt reached the base of his finger. He felt around your insides, watching you squirm slightly.

"'S that feel alright?"

"Yeah, you're all good."

At that, he curled his finger forward finding your g spot and feeling your walls clench around him. He added another finger and prodded against that spot. Your hips rolled against his hand as a soft moan was pulled from your lungs. The moment he heard your voice make such a heavenly sound, he was hooked. He couldn't help but move his fingers faster, try to reach deeper, and softly rub his thumb against your clit.

"Satoru," you called, somewhere between a moan and a fond chuckle. You reached a hand up to cover your mouth, only for it to be stolen away and replaced by a greedy pair of lips, drinking in every soft moan you gave. It didn't take long from there to feel a coil tightening in your abdomen, and as you pulled away from Satoru's lips for air, you leaned into him, pressing your chest to his and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Y-you really want- hah- want me to cum now?" You asked making sure he was actually alright with that fact and not just lost without a thought.

"Fuck yes, baby. And I'll make it happen again when I'm inside you, mark my fuckin' words."

Hearing this, you felt your orgasm crash into you, making you stuff your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your sob. After all, two of your walls were shared with Shoko and Utahime, and you'd prefer that neither knew what was happening (particularly Utahime).

Once your orgasm had ended and you were catching your breath, you felt Satoru pull his fingers from his cunt, letting the cool air of the room touch your slick and make it embarrassingly obvious how wet you were. You pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, finding he had two fingers in his mouth and a dreamy look in his eyes.

You tasted absolutely delicious. If he wasn't so painfully hard and losing patience, he'd have started eating you out right then and there, not stopping until you were barely lucid. God, how gorgeous you would look like that. But it'd have to wait for next time, and he'd make sure there was a next time.

"Need a break?" He asked softly, though it would pain him to hear you say yes.

"No, no, not after you've been waiting so nicely," you murmured, kissing across Satoru's face. As you did so, you took a hand off his shoulder and used it to tug your underwear all the way off. Once he realized what you were doing, he shifted around to tug his boxers down his own legs, leaving him completely bare under you. There was only one thing keeping you from being just the same.

"You gonna keep this on the whole time?" He asked slyly as he tugged at your bra strap.

"You want it off?"

"Wanna watch 'em bounce." He turned his eyes to yours, pausing your kissing. "You wanna keep it on?"

"Well, it's..." suddenly you looked the most flustered he'd seen you. Ever. Even when he was knuckles deep in your cunt, you'd kept some sort of stoic persona. But now, suddenly, even through the dark he could tell your face was red. "It's embarrassing..."

"Why's that?" He cooed, pulling you close so he could kiss along your shoulder.

"Whaddya mean, 'why-"

"I mean, it shouldn't be embarrassing around me. I worship you. It hasn't changed yet, why now?"

You thought through his words for a second, then sighed and grabbed both of his wrists, pulling them to your shoulder blades.

"...go ahead."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's like you said. Why not?"

He gave you a soft look and pressed an even softer kiss to your lips as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it and carefully pulled it off of you, leaving you completely bare and with an urge to cover yourself as you felt your nipples harden even further with the cool air.

"'S okay, yeah?" He asked reassuringly, dropping his hands to your waist. When you nodded, he leaned forward and trailed kisses along your chest and both of your mounds. Your breath shook as you watched him and how his eyes would occasionally meet yours, making sure you knew how much he loved you and your body. After a bit more kissing, and some hickey-leving and groping, his lips lifted to meet yours, and his hands returned to his waist.

"You ready yet?" You sighed out, pulling your mouth from his.

"I've been ready for an hour, baby," he laughed, his enthusiasm returning.

"You sure?" You cooed playfully.

With a frustrated look on his face, you felt Satoru tug your hips down, pressing his cock against your folds. You bit your lip, feeling yourself throb and softly grind against him. He loosened his grip and you took that moment to lift yourself up enough for you to grab his length and line it up with your entrance.

You both exchanged a glance before he helped you ease down onto his cock, blissful sighs leaving both your throats. You felt Satoru whisper out his thousandth curse of the night and bury his face into the crook of your neck, letting out shaky whimpers as you continued to ease down.

"D-don't worry about- hah- t-taking it all..." he reassured, no longer helping you down - letting you go at your own pace.

"I can fit it," you murmur, continuing your careful decent down onto him.

"God, you're so hot inside. F-feels like I'm melting... All cause of me..."

You meant to chuckle, but it came out as more of a near-silent whimper as you sat down fully, feeling the tip of his cock kiss depths inside you that had never been reached before.

"You really did fit it all," he sighed out, an obvious smile on his face even though you couldn't see it. "You're a fucking angel."

He ran his tongue over several of the hickies he'd left along your neck and shoulder, all easy to hide, as per your request. You rested where you were, trying to get used to his length being the full way inside you.

"You alright?" He leaned back slightly, pulling your chin so you face him. "You're so quiet. You short-circuitting?"

You wiggled your hips and smiled at him, watching his lashes twitch as his eyes threatened to roll back at just that. "I could ask you the same thing," you purred between soft breaths. He leaned forward and rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a way that was hug-like. One of his hands reached down under one of your thighs and attempted to lift you up, but you stayed put, clenching your walls around him and hearing him let out a shaky breath.

"Can't wait, baby," he whimpered softly. "Can't wait. Please move."

Indulging his sweet, pathetic pleads, you lifted yourself up slowly and sat back down, the feeling of his tip ramming into a certain spot inside you making you clamp down on him once more. His arms tightened around you. "Shit," he let out a sobbing whisper.

"You're so shy right now, Satoru," you cooed, trying embarrassingly hard to keep your voice from cracking. "What happened to all the talk you give me over our calls?" With that, you slid yourself back up and down. The resulting sound that graced your ears was glorious. Right next to your ear, you heard the great Satoru Gojo squeak. So vulnerable.

You picked up these movements at a slow and steady pace, not wanting to overwhelm Satoru, but make him feel amazing. And amazing he felt, dizzy and with his soup-mind more than numb. His soft grunts told you that much.

Everytime his tip prodded against a sweet spot inside you, you wanted to slam yourself down onto him and feel it again, but you knew Satoru wouldn't last if you went too rough. Right now, his arms around your waist pulling you up and down told you what pace he wanted as he steadily pulled you faster. You slipped a hand up his neck and into his hair, tugging softly to hear more of his voice. As the speed mixed with pleasure started making it impossible to keep quiet, you pressed your mouth to the top of his head.

It was clear he knew he was hitting a good spot, as he kept angling his hips to reach that spot with every bounce. One of his hands reached down to rub at your clit and, in your mind, there was the thought that you might actually cum first.

"Fuuuck, I'm close," he whined out, and you could feel his hips twitching up in an attempt to meet your bounces. Between your moans, you whimpered out a "me too."

He started tugging your hips up and down faster, and his hips struggled to meet yours to ram into the very back of your cunt. You yelped the first time his tip slammed into that sweet spot, and hid your face in the side of his head, recalling your wall-mates.

It took barely 30 seconds for your orgasm to wash over you. At the last moment, Satoru grabbed your face and shoved his tongue down your throat, lapping up your orgasmic mewls and keeping you somewhat quiet. Your cunt squeezed his cock tight, and one more thrust did it for him, sending his eyes up and back into his skull as he saw white. Without a thought of hesitation, he pumped your insides full of his cum, orgasming harder than he'd ever felt in his life, and it only felt better at the thought of making you all his.

His lips still stuck to yours as you both attempted to catch your breath. He pulled away for a moment to look into your eyes, only to lean back in and give you a real kiss, making you whimper.

"I fucking love you, Y/n," he sighed out as he pulled away, looking back into your eyes with a gaze so genuine, it made you freeze. "This... this is a terrible way to ask, probably top 5 worst ways, but... will you be my girlfriend?"

You sighed out a laugh and pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him with a completely different intention now. "How could I say no to you, honey? Heh, and you called yourself a loser," you shook your head. "Would a loser be in this situation?"

He rolled his eyes at you and pecked you on the lips. You gave him a soft smile, but yelped as you felt him swing you around, tossing your back down onto the bed. Your mind caught up just in time to see him on top of you with a dopey smile on his face.

"So, Sweetheart, you wanna go again?"

BONUS: The Morning After

After spending the morning making sure that your legs still worked, your hickies were covered, and that no one was around to see Satoru leave your room, you met with your classmates as if it were any normal morning. It seemed like one too, as you greeted everyone, including Satoru. He'd waited for you to text him that everyone had already left, so he was the last one out.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," you waved.

"If I had known you would be so late, I would've came and woken you up myself," Geto sighed. You quietly thanked God that Geto didn't attempt to do that.

"Hey you guys," Shoko waved. You felt nervousness in your chest at how amused she seemed.

"Did you have fun last night?"

Your stomach dropped, and you slowly turned to Shoko, finding a smug look on her face. Geto look confused, but knew something was up when he saw the terrified stares of you and Satoru.

"What happened?"

"Nothing important," Satoru waved his hand dismissively with a sigh, but his face was red too.

"I'll tell ya later, " Shoko leaned over and whispered to Geto.

"What're you idiots making such a big deal about?" Utahime asked, looking at you and Satoru's expressions.

"Hey, Utahime, you didn't happen to hear any weird noises last night, didya?" Shoko asked, leaning around you to look at her.

"I did, actually. Around 11, I think. Why?"

"Nothing, just making sure I wasn't hallucinating or something," she brushed it off, continuing to smirk at you and Satoru. At that Utahime left with a suspicious look.

Geto suddenly put the pieces together, eyes widening. "Wait. You two..."

Shoko nodded with a knowing 'mhm'.

With a look over his shoulder to make sure that Utahime was really gone and Mei Mei wasn't looking, Satoru reached over and tugged your collar to the side, displaying a blue hickey. You slapped his hand away, looking at him with a beat red face.

"Satoru!" You gasped.

"Oh, we're dating, by the way." He spoke coolly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Took you long enough," Geto rolled his eyes.

"I told you, man, I had a plan this whole time."

"Last I checked, that wasn't at all the plan."

"Well, I had to make some... situational changes."

You, Geto, and Shoko all deadpanned at his bullshittery.

"Okay, look, the point is that it worked out."

"I guess I can confirm that," you sighed.

"Is he any good?" Shoko asked, nonchalantly. "Eh, why bother asking? I could hear the answer to that last night."

"Shut up!!"

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 "how much do they know?" rookanis🪶

[prompt explanation under cut <3]

Lucanis laughs, quietly, and puts away quill and notebook when Rook approaches the bed, both arms spread up as far as they can go an a dramatic, clearly enunciated yawn from her mouth.

"Gods, I can't wait to get in these sheets."

Even so, she stops just short of the mattress, to lift her arms up behind her and lean forward.

Lucanis knows the sweet relief in the shoulders from that stretch, knows the guttural groan from deep within her that is sure to come bubbling up just before her nose touches her knee.

"I'll do my best to leave quietly, then."

Her head lifts. Lucanis can barely see her eyebrows over the mattress and her poofy blanket. He can, however, hear the little, pleased exhale; this posture stretches her chest, as well, evidently.

Taash had once held her up with their arms under her armpits and their hands behind her head, just letting her dangle mid-air for a while, her feet just below his navel.

"Wait, why?"

Lucanis picks up his notebook again, waving it.

"I have a lot of people to meet, tomorrow - Caterina's decided she can't be bothered with them. I'll need to step up. If I want to break fast in peace before that, I'll have to get up with the chickens."

"Ew." Her arms land flat on the bedtop, her head pushing back down toward the floor.

"But I have things to do tomorrow, too. I wouldn't mind getting up together."

"What do you have to do that requires you to wake before noon?"

He doesn't mean for it to sound judgemental, and Rook knows it. She still pinches the inside of his forearm.

"Before you ask, something you couldn't do for me, even if you had the time." A pause then, as she settles on her side and flips her hair over the pillow. A strand gets caught in a stray splinter of the wooden headrest.

Lucanis adds a quick note to his book, to have the carpenter sand it down, fix up the varnish.

"I hope you didn't write down, fix Rook's every problem. I can take care of myself, you know. Mostly."

"I wasn't."

He can tell she doesn't believe him, just from the way her muscles tense, her feet dig into the bed beneath, as she turns around with two fingers in her mouth to squish out the candle to her bedside.

"I'm just meeting with Gigi for breakfast again. No big deal."

"Gigi?"

"Oh, you know."

She crawls across the bed, across him, to snuff out his candles and wrestle him into her arms.

She knows he'll stay up all night if she doesn't. But she never holds so tight he couldn't escape.

"I.. I don't think I know a Gigi." The closest his mind supplies him is that quack Giovannino, who told his mother to walk off her broken ankle no month before she was murdered.

Rook's hand finds his shoulder, inside his sleeve, rubbing his biceps as well she can in the confined space between his skin and the fabric of his shirt.

"That talker Tia sent me to. Soulseeker, she called them."

Her hand shifts, resting over his breast, as he starts to turn toward her.

Over his other shoulder, the soft yellow gleam of her eyes is just a touch darker than a cat's eye finding even the smallest spark. Narrowed, just a little. Contemplating. Waiting.

"You're not taking a healer's concerns to a market monger only barely not selling ivy smoke, are you?"

"I feel like if I did that, you would already know." Rook pushes closer against his back, and the arm trapped under his neck curls to brush fingers through his hair. "But no. We were just chatting, and she said I could always try to talk to a soulseeker. I promised I'd give it a try, at least."

"Well," Lucanis says. He settles back down, reaches for her plush thigh and pulls it across his hip, hand under her knee. "If you're going again, whatever they do must be working." A pause. "What do you tell them?"

"Oh, nothing. Everything. We sit down with food and drink and I just talk at them until we're both finished. Airing it all out, you know."

He does.

"How much do they know, exactly?"

He almost doesn't want to know the extent, but even so, he's glad Rook does not need him to specify.

From how her belly tenses behind his back, however, he suspects there's a tease incoming.

"Oh, you know. The usual. I don't actually know how much they retain - they're usually finishing up their second bottle of port by the time we part."

"Tell me."

A shrug, both behind him and from within him.

"How we met. How long we've been together. How I feel about you. About us. About how Viago feels about me changing houses, as if I've been privy to his thoughts even once in my life."

A kiss to the back of his skull, then a shudder. From how the mattress shifts and the blanket moves away from him a little, Spite must be settling down behind her, holding her like she holds Lucanis.

An amused huff of air runs through his hair, hits his scalp, both warm and cold, somehow.

Oh-oh.

"How many grey hairs you've got on your left testicle."

Lucanis inhales his own saliva, and as he shoots up, blindly reaching for his waterbottle on the ground, Rook rolls away from behind him, laughing so hard she can barely shape her mouth to make words.

In his periphery, Spite pulls down his pants and tries to count them himself. Then he realizes he's never learned to count. Pouting and grumbling, he moves back behind Rook's ear, trying to goad her into telling him.

What is after Four? Why do WE not know? Tell me, sweet homemaker. TELL ME NOW.

But Rook is too preoccupied with wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, massaging the ache from her cheeks.

By the time they've both caught their breaths, and he settles back down in her arms, and she in Spite's, he decides to stay in bed with her in the morning.

He's already looking forward to her deep, guttural groan upon waking.

🪶

so the prompt was to take the lyric from Fall Out Boy's "The Last of The Real Ones": I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me.

And write a prompt based on that ig?? I took it way too literal and then it got out of hand, like most everything I touch lmao.

@chubritza tagged me.

Write something if you want to, if not, that's cool also.

[~rina]

[syluscrows]

Sylus taking care of his chronically ill pookie // hurt / comfort / fluff and slight NSFW

WRITTEN IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF AN INDIVIDUAL WITH VEDS / SBS AND ASSOCIATED DISORDERS USING THE SYMPTOMS EXPERIENCED.

Tags: Sylus x reader, gender neutral reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, chronic illness, Sylus being a sweetie pie, and sylus being a jerk...

Tw: organ rupture mentioned, joint dislocation, weak skin / bruising, discussion of shortened lifespan.

- His initial reaction to you telling him is his usual nonchalant self. He doesn't really seem to care, but only in the nicest way possible. Externally he's the exact same at first - internally his dusty brain cogs are spinning like mad, thinking 'what the fuck does that mean'

- He will probably buy you a get well soon basket.. for a chronic condition..

- unbeknownst to you, he has no idea what it is and immediately researched it.. and poor gramps didn't know how dramatic Google was when it came to medical conditions so he only thought of the worst outcomes.

S: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR ORGANS COULD RUPTURE?!"

Y/n: "Sylus, there's emphasis on the 'could'.."

- you have to reassure him that it's not THAT bad, but the whole shortened lifespan stuff coming up does scare the crap out of this poor man.

Y/n: "sylus it's not exactly the most accurate thing.. we don't know if it'll be that early." You assure him, but he clearly doesn't find that reassuring at all, as someone who can't die, he never thought he would feel so strongly about someone who COULD die, much sooner than expected. You can tell it's left a pit in his stomach that won't go away regardless of what you say.

- He's more careful when you two are sparring, or play fighting.

- (in the perspective of a reader who is a hunter) He knows you can take care of yourself in fights. Witnessing you effortlessly slamming a joint back into place midfight etc. gives him reassurance at this, but that doesn't mean there won't be a certain crow checking up on you now and again when you're apart.

- The first time y'all get freaky he's mortified by the amount of bruises on you. How are they so dark? And so big? It looks like you've gotten into a fight.. And the bruises he leaves on you after are even worse.

- And your skin is so soft he can't keep his hands off of you. 😌

- Bless this man when your limbs go numb and you have to wait out the pins and needles in order to move, he knows exactly what to do. Usually you would have to wait for the uncomfortable feeling to dull down so you can move your legs to regain blood flow, but with Sylus around you don't have to worry, although it feels awful when he does it, he lifts your leg and bends it until the feeling goes away, ensuring the blood flow returns sooner so you aren't uncomfortable for long.

- Afterwards he's asking you where all of the bruises are from. "What about this one?" "Sylus I told you I don't know, they just appear! It probably happens when I sleep!" Oh boy do you regret saying that, this man protects you from everything, you might as well be wrapped in bubble wrap.

- If you use mobility aids, throw them out, he will buy you better ones, fancier ones, maybe even custom ones to match whatever vibe you like.

- let's just say he gets a bit too rough one day and there goes your hip, straight out of the socket.. he immediately apologises over and over again, and despite his usual emotional constipation you can tell it's given him a scare as he tries to figure out what to do, asking if you need to go to hospital, if he can put it back for you.. and despite the immense pain you're in, it's still adorable to see him like that.

- you stand up too fast and immediately just stand there and lean against something until your brain descrambles. He honestly finds it kinda cute, and has to hold back the urge to be malicious... His evil lil heart would love to one day rush you to walk forward and watch you fall, but his soft side is strongly fighting against it.

- You do have to talk him out of treating you like you're fragile, which is irritating. You find yourself constantly reassuring him.

- despite his stoic, cold exterior, he does piss himself laughing when you don't manage to lean against something in time when you're light headed, falling over sideways. Laughter is the best medicine, after all. Of course he's concerned, but only for a split second..

- the brain fog is his favourite part. "What did I just say?" You say with an adorable confused expression on your face, or when you place something down and it's as if it's suddenly phased out of existence. He doesn't care if it makes you slightly tardy on your timekeeping, if you're late you're late, you can't help it.

- the brain fog doesn't exactly make it easy to give you tasks.. he ends up sending you a million messages to remind you of what he's asked you to do.

- The man cringes so hard when you're walking along like nothings happening as if your hip isn't clicking loudly with every step. He is clueless to the fact that it doesn't actually hurt every time...

- The first flare-up he felt helpless, being so uneducated and just watching you in pain, hardly able to do a thing. By the time you'd had a few flare-ups around him he gathered a routine. Running baths, getting ointments for your joints, millions of heat pads, practically staying at your side like a lil servant. You insisted it wasn't necessary, since you've functioned through many flare-ups beforehand, but he won't listen.

- There's an emergency box with instructions in case he isn't around so that Luke and Kieran can take care of you too.🥹

[fourthavecafe]

hisoka using his bungee gum against you

Hisoka had been watching you closely all evening, that familiar glint of mischief ever-present in his eyes. The two of you had been dating for a while now and you knew that look-he was up to something.

"Care for a challenge?" Hisoka asked, his voice dripping with playful malice.

The word 'challenge' immediately made you think of a fight. After all, with Hisoka, it was usually a test of strength or skill. You narrowed your eyes, standing up from the bed, already prepared to square off. But something about his smirk made you pause.

"Not exactly what you're thinking, darling” he said, his voice low and teasing. Before you could react, his hand moved with lightning speed and you felt it-his bungee gum. You barely had time to protest before you were pinned to the bed, your arms stuck above your head and your legs immobile.

Hisoka was on top of you in an instant, his ruby eyes glowing with amusement.

"Hisoka!" you exclaimed, trying to pull free.

"I know exactly what you're planning!"

Hisoka chuckled, leaning down so that his face hovered just inches above yours. "Oh? Then you know this is going to be quite the challenge for you." His lips curled into a wicked grin, his voice soft and taunting. "A tickle challenge."

Your heart sank. Out of all the things he could've chosen, it had to be that. Hisoka, knowing your ultimate weakness, had clearly decided to exploit it for his amusement. You tried to pull your wrists free but his bungee gum held firm, leaving you completely at his mercy.

"You're wearing the perfect outfit for this too” he purred, his eyes roaming over your form. "Those booty shorts... practically the size of a belt." His hand traced the waistband lightly, sending a shiver through you. "And that cropped top... it's like you're asking for it."

You blushed deeply, squirming beneath him.

"H-Hisoka, come on, this isn't fair! Let me go!"

"Fair?" Hisoka repeated, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "But darling, where's the fun in that? Besides, you agreed to the challenge."

He grinned, one hand moving to rest lightly on your exposed stomach, his touch featherlight as his fingers ghosted over your skin. You bit your lip, already trying to suppress the laughter that was bubbling up inside you.

"Oh, don't hold back" Hisoka teased, his hand pressing down just slightly. "This is only the beginning."

His fingers began to trace small circles on your belly, the sensation sending tingles through your body. You bit your lip harder, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. But Hisoka was nothing if not persistent. He knew exactly where to touch and how to push you to your limits.

"Still resisting?" he mused, his tone dripping with amusement. "How admirable... but I wonder how long that will last."

Without warning, his fingers dipped lower, teasing along the waistband of your shorts before trailing back up to your ribs. He pressed lightly against your sides, and that was all it took. A giggle escaped you and Hisoka's grin widened.

"There it is” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "And here I thought you'd last longer."

His fingers began to knead your sides, working their way up toward your underarms. You were laughing uncontrollably now, the sensation overwhelming as Hisoka's skilled hands played with you like a puppet on strings.

"Hisoka, please!" you gasped between fits of laughter, writhing beneath him. "This isn't fair!"

He chuckled darkly, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear. "Of course it's not fair” he whispered. "But that's what makes it so much fun."

His hands danced over your ribs, his fingers pressing and prodding in all the right places, sending you into hysterics. Hisoka's gaze never left your face, watching every twitch, every laugh, every desperate attempt to free yourself.

"You're so easy to toy with" he murmured, his voice filled with sadistic delight. "And here I thought this would be a challenge."

Hisoka's fingers drifted lower, teasing along your hips before slipping under the waistband of your shorts. He gave a playful squeeze, making you yelp as laughter burst out of you again.

"Look at you" he said softly, almost lovingly.

"So helpless... so vulnerable... all because of a little tickling."

He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're mine, you know that? Completely under my control."

You gasped for breath, your body trembling from the relentless tickling but Hisoka wasn't finished. His fingers drifted up your stomach again, pressing into the soft skin just beneath your ribs.

"Ticklish here too, aren't you?" he teased, his voice a low purr as he pressed down.

"You really didn't think you could win this challenge, did you?"

You could barely speak through the laughter, your body shaking as Hisoka's hands continued their merciless exploration of your most ticklish spots.

"And to think” he mused, his fingers now brushing against your underarms, "you thought this was going to be a fight. How disappointing... for you."

Hisoka's grin widened as your protests dissolved into more helpless laughter. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this, his crimson eyes alight with sadistic glee. His fingers traced the outline of your ribs again, making sure to hit every sensitive spot as you squirmed beneath him.

"Come now" he said, his tone almost gentle as he leaned down to whisper in your ear again. "You can't possibly give up this easily."

You shook your head frantically, laughing too hard to respond. Hisoka's fingers slowed but his eyes remained locked on you, watching your reaction with twisted satisfaction.

"Well” he finally said, pulling back slightly, "I suppose I'll let you catch your breath. For now."

Hisoka removed the bungee gum, allowing you to collapse onto the bed, panting and exhausted from the tickling. He stood up, his grin never fading as he watched you recover, a glimmer of amusement still dancing in his crimson eyes. For a moment, you thought it was finally over-that he had had his fun and would let you rest. But with Hisoka, you should've known better.

"I'll let you catch your breath” he said smoothly, his tone almost too kind. With that, he turned and left the room, leaving you lying on the bed, still trying to process what had just happened. You took the opportunity to breathe deeply, your chest rising and falling as you tried to calm your racing heart.

The laughter had left you winded, your muscles sore from squirming beneath his relentless touch.

But as the moments passed, you started to relax, thinking he had finished with his so-called "challenge." Maybe he had just gotten bored and moved on to something else, you thought hopefully. After all, how much more could he possibly want?

Your hope was short-lived, however.

Just as your breathing steadied, you heard Hisoka's footsteps approaching again. You turned your head to see him returning but something was different this time. In his hands, he held a collection of items that made your stomach twist with dread: a bottle of baby oil, a couple of toothbrushes and feathers.

You blinked, confused. "Hisoka...?"

He didn't respond right away, his smile widening as he casually placed the items on a small table near the bed. Your mind raced, trying to figure out what he had planned but nothing made sense.

You were about to ask again when suddenly-before you could react-you felt the familiar tug of his bungee gum once more, wrapping tightly around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the bed again.

You yelped, tugging at the restraints. "Wait! I thought we were done!" you protested, panic rising in your voice. You had just survived the last round of tickling, and now this?

Hisoka leaned over you, his face mere inches from yours, his grin as wide and wicked as ever. "Done?" he echoed, his voice soft yet dripping with malice. "Oh no, my dear... we're just getting started. The real challenge begins now."

Your eyes widened as he stood back up, picking up the bottle of baby oil and twisting it open. "W-What are you doing with that?" you asked, dread seeping into your voice as you squirmed against the bungee gum, already knowing you wouldn't be able to escape.

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look as he drizzled a small amount of the oil into his hands, rubbing it between his palms.

"You'll see” he said with a smirk. "I thought I'd make things a little more... interesting."

Hisoka leaned down, his fingers coated in the slick oil, and gently pressed them against your exposed stomach.

The cool sensation of the oil made you flinch and you let out a soft gasp as his hands slowly worked the liquid into your skin. He was meticulous, spreading it evenly across your belly, his touch unnervingly soft.

"Such smooth skin” Hisoka mused as he continued to rub the oil in, his gaze fixated on the way your body reacted to his touch.

"This will make things much more fun."

You struggled beneath him, your breath quickening again as you realized what he was doing. The oil made your skin even more sensitive and your nerves were already on edge from the earlier tickling. "H-Hisoka, come on... this isn't fair” you pleaded, your voice trembling with anticipation and fear.

He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your desperation. "Fair? Darling, since when do I play fair?"

Hisoka's oiled fingers suddenly danced across your belly and the effect was immediate. You burst into laughter again, your body arching off the bed as the slickness of the oil made the sensation ten times worse. His fingers slid effortlessly over your skin, teasing every inch of your ticklish stomach with maddening precision.

"You're even more sensitive now” he said, his voice low and delighted. "Look at you, squirming so much. Are you sure you're up for this challenge?"

You tried to respond but the words dissolved into more laughter as Hisoka's fingers traced circles around your bellybutton, the oil making it impossible to escape the ticklish onslaught. He took his time, savoring every moment as he watched you writhe beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, Hisoka stopped briefly, reaching for the toothbrushes. You blinked through your tears of laughter, trying to catch your breath as you watched him twirl one of the brushes in his fingers.

"I hope you're not too tired yet” he said with a sinister smile. "These should make things... much more exciting."

Without warning, he pressed the bristles of the toothbrush against your stomach, the small, firm strokes sending a shockwave of ticklishness through you.

You screamed with laughter, unable to control the way your body bucked against the restraints. The sensation was unbearable, the soft bristles brushing over your slick skin with a featherlight touch that sent you into hysterics.

"Look at how you react" Hisoka said, his tone dripping with amusement as he moved the toothbrush in slow, deliberate circles around your bellybutton. "So sensitive, so helpless... and all because of a little oil."

You gasped for air, tears streaming down your face as you tried to plead with him but the words wouldn't come. Hisoka's other hand grabbed the second toothbrush and now both of them worked in tandem, the bristles dancing around your bellybutton with merciless precision.

"Still think you can handle this?" Hisoka teased, his voice smooth and calm despite the chaos he was causing. "I'm just getting warmed up, you know."

The brushes trailed up to your ribs and you let out another shriek of laughter, your body shaking uncontrollably. Every touch, every stroke sent you deeper into a ticklish frenzy and Hisoka's eyes sparkled with sadistic delight.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, Hisoka set the brushes aside and reached for the feathers. You barely had time to register what was happening before he twirled the soft tip of one feather along the edge of your oiled stomach, the contrast between the slippery surface and the lightness of the feather sending a new wave of sensations through you.

"Hmm... you're holding up quite well" Hisoka said thoughtfully as he watched you writhe.

"But I wonder how long that will last."

You were too far gone to answer, your laughter uncontrollable as the feather continued its torturous path across your skin. Hisoka's expression was one of pure joy, his eyes glinting with amusement as he pushed you closer to your limit.

"I must say” he purred, trailing the feather along your waistline "this challenge has certainly been entertaining... for me."

He leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered "But for you... it's far from over."

Your breath became heavy, your chest heaving with every desperate inhale. Your ribs flared with the effort, and you could feel the strain of every movement, your body trembling from the relentless tickling.

Hisoka, perched on top of your legs, watched you with a glint of sadistic amusement in his eyes, knowing you were nearing your limit. Yet he wasn't quite ready to show you mercy. No, he wanted to savor this moment for a little longer.

Hisoka knew exactly what he needed to do to hear those magic words-your desperate pleas for him to stop. His grin widened as he leaned down toward your lower belly, his hands slowly tugging down the hem of your shorts, exposing the soft skin of your lower abdomen and your hip bones. He glanced up at you, his eyes dark with playful cruelty, as if daring you to protest.

"You're so close” he purred, his voice teasing. "But not quite there yet."

Before you could say anything, you felt it— the soft press of his lips against the skin just above your hip, followed by the gentle pressure of his teeth as he bit down, not hard enough to hurt but enough to send a shockwave of sensation through your already oversensitive body. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as a strangled laugh escaped you.

The bite didn't hurt but it felt unbearably sensitive, like every nerve ending in your lower belly had come alive under his touch.

Hisoka took his time, biting gently, sucking and licking the skin, his warm breath ghosting over your flesh. Each time his teeth grazed your skin, you squirmed, unable to escape the maddening sensation.

"Ticklish here too, aren't you?" Hisoka's voice was smooth and smug, a taunting lilt that made your heart race even faster. He lowered his mouth to your bellybutton, his tongue flicking out to trace the edges before he leaned in, sucking gently at the sensitive spot.

A strangled laugh tore from your throat as the strange, ticklish sensation from his lips on your bellybutton sent you spiraling. You writhed beneath him, tugging at the restraints, your laughter turning breathless as Hisoka's attention remained fixed on your lower belly.

"Come on, darling" Hisoka murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You know what I want to hear." He nipped at the soft flesh near your hip bone, his tongue teasing over the spot he had just bitten, his touch maddeningly light. "Beg for me."

His hands moved to your sides, holding you still as he continued to torment your belly, his lips and tongue working in tandem with his sharp teeth, the sensations blending together into something unbearable. You tried to twist away but the bungee gum held you firm, leaving you completely at Hisoka's mercy.

"Still holding out?" he teased, lifting his head just enough to look at you with that wicked grin. "I admire your spirit... but we both know how this is going to end."

He lowered his head again, his mouth returning to your bellybutton, sucking and licking with slow, deliberate motions. The combination of the biting, the sucking, and the light teasing from his tongue pushed you closer to the edge of your sanity, your body shaking with laughter as you struggled to form words through the onslaught of sensation.

"Beg for me” Hisoka whispered, his voice dark and sweet like honey, as his teeth grazed your lower abdomen one more time.

"Or we can keep going until you can't take it anymore."

Your resolve was crumbling fast, your laughter turning breathless and frantic, your body unable to escape the torment of Hisoka's touch. You knew there was only one way to make it stop-and Hisoka knew it too.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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It turned out that you didn’t have to wait much longer to test out your new sword, and you could hardly sit still as you waited for Sergei to arrive for your lesson.

“My lady, do be careful,” Lizbell cautioned. “I’m happy that you seem so excited about this, but please keep in mind that you should always prioritize your safety. Don’t push yourself too hard and end up getting hurt.”

You looked down at the sword resting in your lap and ran your fingers over the sheath, quick to sport a grin. “Yes, I’ll be careful. I’m just glad that I finally have a sword of my own. It makes the whole thing feel more real, you know?”

“I suppose.” She was dusting all around your room, but she couldn’t help but keep glancing over at you every so often. “Ahem. So, that blacksmith,” she said. “You didn’t ask him to make that engraving for you, right?”

Curiosity was written all over her expression. You weren’t exactly sure what it is she wanted to hear. Even you weren’t so shameless to ask someone to dub you the strongest and prettiest noblewoman in the entire kingdom.

“No, he came up with it himself,” you said simply.

“Ah. I see. Interesting.” For some reason, Lizbell was biting back a grin.

You sighed. “What now?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she mused. “Perhaps I’m just reading into things too much. It just seems like a rather bold statement to make given that he barely knows you, so I can’t help but feel like you must’ve made a very strong impression.”

“Are you implying that he has a crush on me or something?”

“Oh, who knows?”

“Hilarious,” you chuckled. “Cedric’s super sweet and friendly. I’m pretty sure he was just treating me the same way he treats everyone. He only wrote something like that because I’m quite literally the only noblewoman who’s ever come to him asking to have a sword crafted. Get your mind of the gutter, my goodness.”

“My mind has never once been in the gutter,” Lizbell denied. “But I suppose I might be making too big of a deal out of this. The thought of someone having romantic feelings for you just makes me happy, that’s all. Especially since you say he’s such a nice person.”

Aw. When she put it that way, her intentions seemed rather sweet. But you were going to have to burst her bubble, unfortunately. Cedric hadn’t fallen for you. Well, not yet, at least. Only time would tell.

“I’m glad you just want what’s best for me,” you smiled. “But... would you really want a blacksmith like Cedric pursuing me? I mean, I obviously don’t care about social status or any of that garbage, but I was convinced you’d be telling me to only consider other nobles as prospective partners.”

Lizbell frowned. “What does any of that matter? I’ve known for a long time that you’re far from conventional, my lady. So long as you find someone who cherishes you and treats you with respect, it shouldn’t matter what sort of blood they have running through their veins. And I know for a fact that your parents feel the same way.”

Another smile was quick to stretch across your lips. Although Zodin’s Benevolence took place in a fictional fantasy world, the traditions and etiquette had clearly been inspired by time periods similar to the Victorian era. As such, it went without saying that nobles were expected to court and marry those of similar rank to them. Yet here she was, actively encouraging you to follow your heart and do whatever made you happy, regardless of what others might think.

It didn’t surprise you that your parents were as lovely as always, but this just reaffirmed that you had a kind, reliable ally in Lizbell as well.

“Lizbell,” you sniffled. “You’re going to make me cry.”

She blushed, hurriedly averting her gaze. “T-That doesn’t mean that you can just get away with anything, though. It’s still important to carry yourself with poise and grace. You have plenty of duties to uphold, my lady. It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of you becoming trapped in some loveless marriage purely out of obligation. At the very least, you should marry for love.”

“Right. And that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

It was true. You couldn’t have even entertained the thought of falling in love back in your previous world. You were too sick and miserable to envision something like that happening to you. Not to mention that you would feel absolutely horrible for whoever did fall in love with you, given that your condition was terminal.

But now, love was a very real possibility. It couldn’t be planned for, of course. It still needed to happen organically. But the point was that with this body, you could fall in love, and go on to live a long, happy life together.

Lizbell seemed content to continue cleaning in silence after having said her piece, but you noticed that she looked even more cheerful than before.

Not long after the fact, a different servant came along to relay a message. “Lady [Name],” they said. “Sir Sergei has just arrived for your sword training. He’s waiting downstairs in the foyer.”

“Oh, perfect!” you grinned, springing up from your seat. “I can hardly wait!”

Initially, your plan to take up swordsmanship had been purely in an effort to protect yourself. Even now, it was still your biggest reason for pushing forward. But you had to admit that you’d come to enjoy it quite a bit, as well. It was fun pushing your body to its limits, seeing how far it could go and what sorts of things it was capable of. Even if the reality was that you were still rather weak, you already felt immeasurably stronger than ever before in your life. It was something to take pride in. The type of person you’d always sought to be, even when it wasn’t possible.

Plus, you still had to hone your skills and make Sergei apologize for teasing you so much. That was another one of your motivators.

Speaking of Sergei, he looked a lot more like himself today. His expression was still somewhat aloof, as it usually was, but he seemed to be in better spirits than when you’d last spoken to him. He really must have just been having a bad day.

“Why hello there, my devoted knight,” you beamed. He tilted his head at you, looking a bit puzzled, but he shook it off quickly enough, realizing you were just being annoying like always.

“I am devoted to all citizens of Zodite,” Sergei replied calmly.

“I know that, of course. Which is why what I said wasn’t technically incorrect.”

“Right,” he sighed, already looking tired. “I see you’re in a chipper mood, as per usual.”

“Of course I am!” you grinned. “Life is beautiful, and we should appreciate every moment. I’m just happy to be here.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t quite seem to hide his smile in time. “Yes, that much is true. We should never take what we have for granted. Now, then. Shall we head over to the courtyard, or do you need a bit more time to get ready?”

“Nope! I’m good to go.”

“After you, my lady.”

He did an exaggerated bow and everything, which was probably intended to mock you somewhat, but you were too excited to even care. Your sword was still in its sheath, but it was now dangling from the belt wrapped around your waist. As you walked, the bit of added weight served as a reminder that you were actually equipped with a weapon now, and it made your chest swell with pride.

You didn’t waste any time once you made it out into the courtyard. “Kachow!” you cried out, brandishing your sword and assuming your stance. “Hehe. Be honest, did it look cool when I pulled it out of the sheath?”

“Not particularly.”

“Aw. But I practiced that move for like two hours last night...”

Sergei was staring quite intently at your sword. It was extremely badass, so you couldn’t blame him. Cedric’s craftsmanship was seriously no joke.

“Isn’t it nice?” you beamed. “You left the smithy pretty quick the other day, but now you’ve got the chance to see it in action. Lucky you.”

“Mhm,” Sergei replied. He offered you a smile, albeit a thin-lipped one.

“So, what are we doing today?” you asked eagerly.

“Good question.” Sergei paused for a moment, and it might have just been a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn his violet eyes looked awfully vindictive. “I was thinking we could give sparring a try.”

“S-Sparring?” you gaped. “As in... you and me?”

“Is there anyone else here?”

“No, but... I-I'm still a newbie,” you stammered. The thought of sparring did excite you, but you knew it could also go horribly wrong. Then again, practice made perfect, and you definitely needed to experience what it was like fighting against a real person. That was the whole point of taking up a weapon in the first place.

Sergei chuckled, then picked up one of the wooden swords he always brought along. “Relax. I would never dare to use a real weapon against you. I won’t strike you, either. I’ll just be using this wooden sword to deflect your attacks. There’s no need to be nervous. I promise you won’t get hurt.”

“Er, no,” you swallowed. “I’m worried that I might hurt you.”

“Oh, wow.” He actually looked rather offended. “You really are underestimating me.”

“Not like that! I mean, I still don’t really know what I’m doing, so what if I make a really unpredictable attack all of a sudden and it catches you off guard? My arm muscles are basically nonexistent, so when I swing one of these things for too long, everything starts to go numb and—”

“Lady [Name],” Sergei chuckled. “Please. I am still a professional. I fight against people that are similar to me in skill, sometimes even higher. If I couldn’t handle a complete beginner, I would be unworthy of my title.”

Your shoulders sagged. “I guess you’re right. Sorry... I’m starting to feel a bit nervous. I’ve never fought anyone before.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so. A lady such as yourself shouldn’t go around being violent.”

“Ah,” you realized. “Actually. I threw my shoe at someone’s face before. Does that count as fighting?”

Sergei looked both incredibly bewildered and somehow completely unsurprised. “Let’s, uh, just gloss over that for now,” he said, clearing his throat. “In any case. I’ve got my wooden sword, so come at me whenever you’re ready. I promise neither of us will get injured.”

“Alright, then,” you said unsurely. “Here I go...”

Despite the fact that Sergei was a trained professional and you had plenty of confidence in his strength, you couldn’t help but take it slow to start. You sliced your sword through the air, giving him plenty of time to react. When he easily deflected your blade, you took a moment to respire, then attacked again, this time more aggressively.

Your hands were shaking as you swung the sword, both from nerves and excitement. You were really doing this. To an outsider, you probably looked ridiculously clumsy and unstable, but you could care less right now. You were proud of yourself just for making the effort.

Sergei’s expression remained impassive as always. Your attacks hastened as time went on, but he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. It was just proof of how big the gap between the two of you was. Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hurt him, even by mistake, was making you feel a lot more comfortable with the situation. You were moving quicker and more boldly than before. You decided that your goal for today would be to make Sergei exert himself, if only a little.

“I’ll show you,” you huffed, blood rising to your cheeks. “Cedric made me this amazing sword, after all. I have no intention of letting him down...!”

Just then, Sergei’s eyes turned cold, and he deflected your next blow with considerable strength, fully knocking the sword out of your hands. You were even forced backwards from the pressure, and two seconds later, you’d fallen onto your butt.

“Ouch,” you said simply.

“Sorry,” Sergei replied, but it didn’t sound very genuine. He leaned forward and offered you his hand, helping you up. “I put a bit too much muscle into that one. Forgive me, Lady [Name]. Did I scare you?”

“Nah, it’s all good,” you reassured with a smile. You patted your butt down, shaking some of the grass off, then picked your sword back up. “I need to learn, one way or another. And I know you wouldn’t try to hurt me, Sergei. I’m not afraid of getting a bit bruised up, though. I expect to take a few more tumbles here and there.”

“Alright,” he nodded, suddenly looking a bit guilty. “Still. This is only your first sparring session. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Seriously, I promise I’m fine! No need to coddle me too much. I’m tougher than I look.” You proceeded to puff out your chest and make a rather pathetic attempt at flexing your biceps. Sergei looked slightly amused, at least.

Your training resumed, and went on for a while longer. Even though you’d assured Sergei that you weren’t afraid, he seemed to be acting much more cautious than earlier. As a result, you managed to finish the session without falling over on your behind again. It had obviously been a very rudimentary lesson, but you’d gotten to use your new sword and practice sparring for the very first time, so all in all, you were happy.

“Thanks as always for your time, Sergei,” you smiled. You reached down to remove your tunic and air your sweaty skin out, but he caught you just in the nick of time.

“Nuh-uh,” Sergei protested, shaking his head vigorously. “Lady [Name], if you’re going to strip again, I’ll have to ask that you wait until I leave!”

“Ugh. Okay, okay,” you sighed. “No need to bite my head off.”

“I’ll be going, then. Good work today. Make sure to take it easy for the next little while. You may feel a bit sore tomorrow.” He turned to leave, but paused to look at you one last time. His brows were furrowed, to the point that it was casting a shadow over his entire expression. “Cedric is a good blacksmith,” he started, “but I’m not so sure you’d benefit from getting too close to him. He means well enough, but he’s noticeably lacking in intelligence. I just wouldn’t want him to drag you down, that’s all.”

He then smiled politely, bowed his head, and walked away.

You stood there, visibly confused.

“Well, that was... kind of mean.”

After what you considered to have been a fruitful training session (minus Sergei’s unnecessary remarks at the end), you ate a hearty meal and then sat down to review some notes you’d taken in class.

“I can calculate this part using the formula from last time... right? Ah, perfect. Yeah. I knew I remembered it.”

You eagerly scribbled onto your notebook, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth. In your opinion, learning was a lot of fun. Especially now that you led such a luxurious lifestyle and had plenty of time to yourself. Studying and doing homework didn’t feel stressful at all, although perhaps that had to do with the fact that you were getting to do something you’d been deprived of in your previous life.

Most of all, though, you liked excelling at something. It felt really good. And you wanted to excel at all sorts of different things, not just school. You wanted to make the most of this amazing opportunity you’d been blessed with. Academics, friends, athleticism—you were fully intent on having them all. When you looked back on things at the end of this life, you didn’t want to have any regrets.

You finished solving one of the problems you’d been working on and spent a moment looking it over. “That should be correct. I think.”

“Yes, it’s correct.”

“Good, good. Wait, what the—?”

You spun around in a hurry and immediately locked eyes with Zodin, who was peering down at you with a big grin.

“What in the fuck?!” you cried out. “Why do you always appear out of nowhere?! Seriously, one of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

Zodin chuckled. “Sorry. I’ll try to be more mindful from now on. But anyways.” He leaned closer, eyes skimming over your notes. “You seem quite devoted to your studies, I have to say. It’s a great thing. Knowledge will always enrich a person’s life.”

“Thanks,” you grinned up at him. “I was way too sick to attend university back in my old life, so I don’t want to waste this new chance I’ve been given.”

“Your diligence is very admirable,” he commented cheerfully.

“Aw. I’m glad you think so.”

For a god, he was definitely pretty laid-back. Then again, he was the only god you’d ever met. Perhaps all of them were like this. Either way, it worked out in your favor because it allowed you to have this kind of casual, friendly relationship.

Suddenly, you realized something.

“Zodin!” you blurted excitedly. “Uh... I know this is a bit of an odd request, but I was wondering... is there any way for you to predict what might happen in the future? Specifically involving me, I mean.”

Unfortunately, your hopes were quickly dashed. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I am nothing more than an observer. I am aware of very many things that happen in my land, but I have no way of knowing how the future might unfold. Ultimately, the fate of humans is in their own hands.”

You drooped a bit, but quickly realized it was probably for the best. Even though this world was based off a game, so many things had already changed. Just as Zodin said, everyone was responsible for shaping their future, and no future was ever guaranteed. The ability to know exactly what kind of awful things might happen was also more of a curse than a blessing, you realized. It would just make you sick with nerves. The best course of action was just to keep on doing as you had up to this point. The way things were right now, you had a pretty good shot at keeping Flora away from the yanderes and enjoying a peaceful life.

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you too much,” Zodin chuckled. “But even if I could predict the future, it wouldn’t be good to go around telling people. You may be a unique case, but you’re still a mortal all the same. I’m not allowed to meddle, remember?”

“Right. No, it’s fine. Everything will work out for the best, as long as I’m careful.”

“Interesting,” he hummed, regarding you with wide eyes. “Do you anticipate something bad happening? Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you seem rather wary. Do you have some sort of premonition that’s been worrying you?”

“Uh, not really,” you lied. “I’m just the type of person that likes to plan ahead. My old life was so shitty that I’m just doing my best to be prepared for anything, you know what I mean?”

“I see.” Zodin gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m very sorry that you’ve had to deal with so much suffering. I hope this life will treat you better.”

“Thanks. I do too. Although it’s already been a massive improvement,” you chuckled. “Oh, right,” you remembered, suddenly springing up from your desk. “Last time we talked, I said I’d have some snacks for us to munch on while we chatted, right? Just give me a sec. I’ll be right back with the goodies!”

You rushed out the room, feeling quite peckish yourself. It didn’t take long for you to run into one of the servants, and you requested that they bring over a cart stacked to the brim with all sorts of different pastries and finger food. You weren’t sure what Zodin liked, but you doubted he got to eat food very often, so you gathered an impressive collection for him to choose from.

By the time you were done, the cart was so cluttered and heavy that the servant was struggling to push it along.

“My lady,” they huffed. “I-If you don’t mind me asking... is there really a need for so much food? Are you anticipating any guests later on?”

“Nope,” you beamed. “It’s just for me.”

“Ah... of course it is,” they sighed. “Please just be careful not to eat too much or you’ll end up getting sick.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got an iron stomach,” you winked, grabbing the cart from them right as they stopped in front of your room. They continued to sigh as they walked away.

Once you were certain they were gone, you locked your bedroom door and turned, proudly displaying the mini feast you’d brought along.

“Behold! All the delicacies the [Last Name] manor has to offer!”

Zodin looked excited. His eyes were gleaming as he looked the spread over, and he even clapped his hands as a show of enthusiasm. “It all looks delicious,” he drooled.

“Hehe. Please, help yourself. There’s more than enough for both of us.”

That’s what you thought, at least. It turned out that Zodin’s appetite was quite literally bottomless. Gods had no need for any form of sustenance. They had no lower or upper limit to how much they could consume, which meant that he could eat to his heart’s desire purely to delight in how everything tasted. He experienced neither hunger not the sensation of being full.

And as such, he polished off every single thing on the cart.

“Wow,” Zodin sighed, lying back on your bed and stretching his limbs out. “That was sublime. Human food really is incredible. I could eat for hours straight and never get sick of it.”

You cast a nervous glance towards all the empty plates, which had been practically licked clean. “Uh... yeah. I definitely believe you.”

“Is there any more?” he asked hopefully.

“More?!” you squeaked. “All due respect, Mr. God, you’ve just eaten enough food to fill up ten people."

“Aw,” he pouted. “I suppose you’re right. It wouldn’t be good to get greedy. Humans are the ones that do that best, after all.”

Cool. He was even sneaking in some casual burns now. Although he wasn’t wrong. Humans could be really shitty.

Looking rather reluctant, Zodin peeled himself off the bed and stood up. “Well. This was a lot of fun, but I’m afraid I can’t stick around too much longer. Thank you as usual for your hospitality. I always look forward to seeing you.”

Right as he was about to pull his usual disappearing stunt, he reconsidered at the last moment, and instead happily ruffled your hair with his fingers.

“Okay,” he then smiled. “I’m leaving for real now. Bye-bye.”

Less than a second later, he was gone, and you now looked like you had bedhead.

You fussed with it for a few moments, putting it back in its usual style, then you turned to look back at the cart, which was now completely barren.

Sighing, you wheeled it out of your room and down one of the ramps, all the way over to the kitchen.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly. “I’m here to return this.”

As luck would have it, you ran into the same servant from before, who was now staring at you in absolute horror.

“L-Lady [Name],” they gaped. “You can’t have eaten all of this on your own...?”

“Uh, haha. Oopsie. I got a bit carried away, I guess.”

They accepted the cart nonetheless, although you could hear them gossiping with the other servants once they all thought you were out of earshot.

“We need to call a doctor,” they whispered. “I’m afraid her stomach might explode at some point during the night.”

Goddamn you, Zodin.

You imagined him laughing as he watched you.  

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[idaisyy]

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-Chapter 63

As they ate, the conversation flowed like it always did—filled with teasing, inside jokes, and playful bickering. Punk complained about how she took forever getting ready, and Daisy rolled her eyes, pointing out that he was the one who dragged her all over the city without telling her why.

The waitress kept lingering at their table, her smiles just a little too flirty, her attention on Punk just a little too obvious. Daisy noticed it immediately.

"Oh my god," she whispered once the waitress walked away again. "She totally has a crush on you."

Punk snorted. "What? No, she doesn't."

"Are you blind?" Daisy laughed, leaning in. "She's been over here, like, ten times and keeps touching your arm."

Punk smirked. "You jealous, sweetheart?"

Daisy scoffed. "Jealous? No. Entertained? Absolutely."

Punk rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the way his lips twitched in amusement. It was easy with them—effortless. It didn't feel forced, didn't feel complicated. She felt comfortable, happy. She couldn't even remember the last time she had this much fun with someone without worrying about what it meant or if there was some unspoken expectation behind it.

When the check finally arrived Punk casually slid the bill across the table toward her.

She blinked at him. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"You're paying," he said simply, leaning back in his chair.

Her brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Punk smirked, tilting his head. "You said it yourself, months ago at the diner. You told me that you'd pay for our first official date."

Her brain stalled. "Wait... what?"

"This was a date, Daisy," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The realization hit her like a freight train. The arboretum. The paddle boats. The rare Fight Club screening. The fancy dinner. He had planned all of it—for her. And he had called it a date.

Her chest tightened, emotion bubbling up so fast she didn't have time to stop it. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. Not a single person in her life had put this much thought and effort into making her feel special.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. "I..." She let out a small, shaky laugh, shaking her head. "I don't think anyone's ever done something like this for me before."

Punk's smirk faltered, his face softening in a way she rarely saw. "Daisy..."

She exhaled, her fingers toying with the edge of the napkin in her lap. "Nobody has ever thought about me like this. Not like... this."

Punk shifted in his seat, looking like he wasn't sure what to do with the weight of her words. "Well, yeah. Most people are fucking idiots."

She laughed—a real, genuine laugh—and he smirked, clearly pleased that he'd made her smile. But she could still feel the lump in her throat, the overwhelming gratitude swirling in her chest.

She hadn't even processed the fact that he had called this their first official date. Not just a date, but the first. Like there would be more. Like this wasn't just some random nice thing he did but the start of something.

She sniffled, wiping under her eye before any tears could fall. "Seriously, Punk. Thank you."

His smirk twitched, something softer flickering behind his eyes before he quickly looked away. "Don't mention it."

And she still didn't even know about the necklace.

Punk rolled his eyes as he grabbed the bill off the table, slipping his card into the holder before Daisy could protest.

"Punk—"

"What kind of asshole makes a woman pay for dinner?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "That's insane. You really thought I was gonna let you do that?"

Daisy crossed her arms, giving him a knowing smirk. "You were pretty convincing."

"Yeah, well, I like messing with you," he admitted. "But I'm not that much of a dick."

Daisy couldn't stop smiling, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. "You just took me on an entire date and called it that out loud. I think you might be catching feels, Punk."

Punk let out a dry laugh, sitting back with his arms crossed. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" she teased. "Because if I recall correctly, you swore you didn't do relationships. You swore you wouldn't catch feelings. You swore up and down that this was just us having fun. But now?" She leaned in, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Now you're taking me on dates and getting all soft on me."

Punk gave her a flat look. "I took you out so you'd shut up for a day."

Daisy gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Wow. You know, for someone who just did something so sweet, you really suck at admitting it."

"I didn't admit anything," he said stubbornly, signing the check before standing up. "Now, are you coming or what?"

She laughed as she followed him out of the restaurant, walking side by side through the cool night air.

As they made their way back to the hotel, Daisy kept sneaking glances at him, unable to hide the amusement on her face. "So, what's next? Flowers? Love letters? Are we gonna start holding hands in public?"

Punk groaned. "You're so fucking annoying."

"And yet, you keep taking me on dates," she singsonged.

"It was one date," he grumbled. "And it doesn't mean anything."

Daisy smirked, nudging his arm. "Keep telling yourself that, loverboy."

Punk shot her a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just enough for her to know that, deep down, he knew she was right.

Daisy was mid-sentence, still teasing him about catching feelings, when Punk suddenly closed the space between them.

"Oh, so what's next? Matching outfits? Maybe a—"

He cut her off, his hands gripping her waist as he pushed her back against the wall of the hotel hallway. His mouth crashed onto hers, silencing any more of her teasing.

Daisy barely had time to process it before she melted into him. His lips were rough, demanding, but there was something else—something deeper, something almost desperate. Like he was trying to prove something, to her or to himself, she wasn't sure.

Her hands slid up his chest, grabbing onto the collar of his hoodie as he pressed himself flush against her. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place like he didn't want her to go anywhere.

She let out a breathless laugh between kisses. "So I was right, huh?"

Punk groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. "Shut up, Daisy."

"Make me," she whispered, a smug smirk on her lips.

And he did.

His mouth was back on hers instantly, kissing her harder this time. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't soft. It was a fight—just like everything between them.

Punk didn't break the kiss as he guided her backward, his hands firm on her waist as he walked her toward the bed. Daisy barely had time to breathe before the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she tumbled onto it with him right on top of her.

"In a rush, are we?" she teased, smirking up at him.

Punk's response was a low chuckle, his fingers threading through her hair as he tilted her head back. "You're the one running your mouth, sweetheart." His voice was rough, his breath warm against her lips before he kissed her again—slower this time, deeper.

Daisy's hands slid under his hoodie, feeling the hard planes of his stomach, the heat of his skin. Punk groaned softly at her touch, pressing himself closer, his weight settling against her in a way that made her stomach flip.

His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then lower, pressing slow, deliberate kisses down her neck. "You still wanna talk?" he murmured against her skin, his smirk evident even as he kissed just beneath her ear.

Daisy's breath hitched, her grip tightening on his hoodie. "M-maybe..."

Punk laughed, shaking his head before nipping lightly at her neck, making her squirm beneath him. "That's what I thought."

Punk's hands roamed over Daisy's body as he kissed her deeply, his fingers working at the hem of her top. He tugged it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head before tossing it to the floor. His hands immediately returned to her, running along her bare skin as his lips found her neck again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone.

"You know," he murmured between kisses, "for someone who swears they're not in love with me, you sure didn't argue about this being a date."

Daisy let out a breathy laugh, her nails digging lightly into his back. "You didn't exactly give me time to argue before you were shoving your tongue down my throat."

Punk pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, his hands already working at the clasp of her bra. "Oh, sweetheart," he teased, "you could've stopped me anytime."

"And miss out on this?" Daisy arched a brow, feigning innocence. "That would be a tragedy."

Punk chuckled darkly, finally getting her bra undone and sliding it off her shoulders. His eyes dragged over her exposed skin, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took his time admiring her. "Fuck, Daisy," he murmured, his hands sliding up her sides. "You're fucking unreal."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks but didn't have time to respond before Punk's lips were back on her, his mouth moving down, kissing along the curve of her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Daisy gasped, her back arching as she tangled her fingers in his hair. "Shit—Punk—"

"Mmm?" He hummed against her skin, his teeth grazing her lightly before he pulled away to smirk up at her. "Thought you liked running your mouth?"

Daisy tried to glare at him, but the way his hands were trailing down her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans, had her losing focus. "You're so—ah—smug," she breathed as he unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down her hips.

"And you fucking love it." Punk smirked before pressing a hot kiss to her stomach. "Now be a good girl and lift your hips for me."

Daisy swallowed hard but did as he said, letting him peel the rest of her clothes away until she was bare beneath him. He took his time, his hands roaming, his lips following, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched.

"You're staring," she murmured, shifting under his gaze.

"Yeah?" Punk's smirk softened just slightly. "Can you blame me?"

Daisy bit her lip, her heart flipping at the way he was looking at her. "Your turn."

Punk chuckled. "Oh? You gonna undress me, sweetheart?"

Daisy smirked, pushing herself up enough to grab the hem of his hoodie. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not at all." He let her tug it up, lifting his arms so she could pull it off him.

Her hands trailed down his chest, her fingers tracing the tattoos along his torso. "You really are pretty, you know that?"

Punk scoffed, rolling his eyes even as his lips twitched. "You trying to ruin the moment?"

"No," she said simply, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Just stating facts."

Punk exhaled sharply, his hands gripping her hips. "You're gonna fucking kill me, Daisy."

"That's the goal, sweetheart." She grinned before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric. "Now, are you gonna let me return the favor, or are you just gonna keep talking?"

Punk let out a sharp breath as Daisy's lips moved lower, pressing slow, teasing kisses down his stomach. His hands curled into fists at his sides, watching as she inched closer, her fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Daisy," he groaned as she tugged them down, his cock springing free.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a smirk playing at her lips. "Relax, Punk. I just wanna make you feel good after today."

"Today was about you," he tried to argue, but his words faltered as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him slowly.

"And now," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his tip, "I want it to be about you."

Punk let out a ragged exhale, his head falling back for a moment as she licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. "Fuck, Daisy..."

She hummed in response, taking him into her mouth inch by inch, her tongue swirling around his head as she hollowed her cheeks. Punk's hands instinctively found her hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he let out a low moan.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned, his hips twitching as she took him deeper. "You're so fucking good at that."

Daisy pulled back just enough to smirk up at him. "Yeah?"

"You fucking know you are," Punk muttered, his grip tightening slightly in her hair as she dipped back down, bobbing her head at a steady pace. "Shit—just like that, sweetheart."

As she worked him over, her own arousal was building, the heat pooling between her legs becoming unbearable. She squeezed her thighs together, shifting slightly, but Punk noticed immediately.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I fucking knew it."

Daisy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing slightly in question.

"This gets you off, doesn't it?" Punk smirked, his free hand moving to her cheek, brushing his thumb along her skin. "You love this—sucking my cock, making me fall apart for you."

Daisy whimpered around him, her eyes fluttering shut as his words sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

"Go ahead, baby," he urged, his voice dripping with authority. "Touch yourself. I know you want to."

Daisy hesitated for only a second before slipping a hand between her legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against her clit. The sensation sent a shudder through her, a soft moan vibrating around Punk's length.

"Fuck—yeah, just like that," Punk groaned, his eyes locked on her as she pleasured herself. "Such a good fucking girl."

The praise sent a thrill through Daisy, and she moaned again, picking up her pace as she took him deeper, letting the tip of him hit the back of her throat.

"Shit—fuck, Daisy," Punk cursed, his hips jerking slightly. "Watching you get off while you suck my cock? That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Daisy whimpered, lost in the moment, her fingers working faster as her arousal built to a fever pitch. Punk could feel the vibrations of her moans, the way her body was trembling, and it sent him dangerously close to the edge.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he rasped, his jaw clenched as he fought to hold back. "Gonna come while my cock is in your mouth?"

Daisy moaned again, her movements becoming desperate as she chased her release.

"That's it, baby," Punk encouraged, his grip in her hair tightening. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

A sharp cry left her, muffled around him, as she finally tipped over the edge, her body shaking as pleasure tore through her. The sensation sent Punk spiraling, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as his own release followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled into her mouth.

Daisy swallowed around him, savoring the taste, before slowly pulling back, licking her lips as she looked up at him with a dazed, satisfied expression.

Punk stared down at her, his chest rising and falling heavily, before letting out a breathless chuckle. "You're fucking dangerous, Daisy."

She smirked, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "You love it."

Punk let out a low, amused hum, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sweetheart. I fucking do."

[nyuusayuri]

Heart of the Pirate King

Ateez Kim Hongjoong x Reader [SMUT]

Warnings: Mention of guns, slight violence and maybe swear words

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The Encounter

"Ah-ah, don't move," he murmured, the cool steel of his pistol pressed against my forehead. "Unless, of course, you want me to pull the trigger."

Hongjoong's amusement was palpable as he observed my futile attempt to slip away and rally my people — an effort made all the more audacious in the face of him and his gang. If only I'd remembered that he was as observant as he was cunning; nothing ever seemed to escape his sharp gaze. The gun trained on me was a constant reminder that any misstep could lead to my demise.

"So, care to enlighten me about your little escapade?"

His voice dripped with mockery, a chuckle escaping as he buried me in his intense scrutiny. My reply was nothing more than a low snarl, teeth gritted in defiance. "As if you don't already know, Pirate," I spat, sarcasm swirling around the air between us.

The glint in his eyes only grew as my retort registered, and his lips curled into a smirk. He held me at gunpoint, and yet I sensed a flicker of intrigue dancing behind his playful demeanor. With a scoff, he remarked, "Oh, you've certainly got guts, I'll give you that."

I turned my attention to the crew behind him. His irritation simmered just beneath the surface as he lifted his pistol, reaching out to grasp my chin. "Look at me. Don't look away," he commanded, each word coated with a palpable threat, his gaze penetrating as he bore into my very soul.

Biting back my fury, I felt an overwhelming urge to headbutt him—a response he seemed to relish as he edged closer, clearly enjoying my internal struggle. His smirk widened at my subtle movements, the delightful tension between us growing thicker like fog on a dreary morning, and he leaned in closer, hovering just out of reach.

"Trying to hide your anger so badly, huh?" he teased, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

"You have no idea," I whispered back, my tension building. "You attacked my home. Should I be happy about that?" The sarcasm dripped from my lips, raising the corners of his mouth in amusement.

He edged nearer, the warmth of his presence radiating against my skin. "No, you have every right to be angry, sweetheart," he replied, his tone almost mocking. "But let's not pretend you're not enjoying this little predicament of yours. I can see it in your eyes."

Appalled, I slapped his hand away, my fury bubbling over. "What? Why should I?! You're scum, just like all the other pirates before you!" A whistle of delight escaped him, his enjoyment clear as he chuckled at my defiance. The laughter morphed into something darker as he fixed me with a sharp stare.

"Oh, a feisty one, aren't you? But don't act like I'm the scum here. You know nothing about me or my crew, sweetheart." He caught my chin again, a tad too tight this time, pulling me within inches of his face. "But keep up that attitude—it's kinda cute." His grin was charming, wicked, and all too compelling.

"As if I would ever listen to you," I shot back, keeping my gaze locked onto his while gripping his wrist. His chuckle was low and satisfied, an insatiable glimmer of amusement lighting his eyes.

"I didn't expect you to listen, sweetheart. I'm merely curious about how long you'll sustain this little act. You're adorable when you're mad, did you know that?"

His face drew closer, and I placed my hands on his chest in a futile attempt to distance myself. "What the hell are you doing?! Let me go!" I cried, struggling to twist free of his grip, my heart racing in protest.

His crew erupted in laughter, reveling in our clash, as one of his arms snaked around my waist, anchoring me where he wanted me — pressed flush against him. "Oh, sweetheart, don't struggle too much; you'll wear yourself out," he teased, leaning down so that his breath warmed my ear. "Besides, I like having you this close to me."

With a surge of resolve, I finally broke free and glared at him, my anger boiling over. "What the hell are you trying to do here? Do you think I'm just one of your dolls who'll come running at your beck and call?"

He merely scoffed at my outburst, a satisfied grin etched across his face. "I was merely testing how fiery your temper is. Look at you; you've not disappointed." He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "And no, I don't think you're one of my dolls as you so bluntly put it. You're much more unique."

"What do you even know about me? Nothing! Now let my people go and get the hell out of here!" I demanded, holding his gaze with a challenge.

"Ah, I know more than you think, sweetheart," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I'll admit, I haven't learned your name yet, which strikes me as a shame." He winked at me, and I frowned in disbelief.

"And as for your people? They're safe, for now. I can promise you that."

I let out a laugh tinged with skepticism. "Why should I trust the word of a pirate? And why do you want to know my name? Once you leave here, I doubt you'll ever give me a second thought."

He chuckled, "Oh sweetheart, you have every reason to doubt me. I am, after all, a pirate. But I assure you, I mean no harm to you or your people." Then, without warning, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Tilting his head down, he leaned in close, murmuring, "I want to know your name because you intrigue me. You're a feisty one, and I can't help but be drawn to you."

His words caught me off-guard, and I blinked in surprise, searching his eyes before looking away, deep in thought. After a moment, I returned my gaze to him. "Y/N," I said quietly.

His smile softened at the sound of my name. "Y/N," he repeated, savoring it like a fine wine, enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he murmured, the devious smirk creeping back to his lips.

"Now, release the others and get out of here," I commanded, my voice firm despite the tremor of uncertainty within me.

An amused scoff escaped him, but he turned to his crew, nodding his command. Moments later, my people were untied, and relief washed over me as they gathered at a safe distance. He turned back, a playful glint in his eye. "As promised, they're safe. My crew won't harm them, I give you my word. But are you truly sure you want me to leave, sweetheart? I was just beginning to enjoy our little conversation."

It was undeniable that there was something magnetic about him — undeniably handsome, perhaps the most attractive man I'd ever encountered — but he was still Kim Hongjoong, King of the Pirates, and trust was not a luxury I could afford.

"Why would I want you to stay?" I raised an eyebrow, wary of the predator before me.

Noting my tension, he leaned into his game, trying to provoke me further. "You've been eyeing me up, haven't you? Admiring the view, perhaps?" He began to circle me, his gaze appraising as he moved. "Let's be honest; you enjoy this little game as much as I do. Otherwise, you'd have walked away by now."

I could only gawk at his audacity, shaking my head. "You mean like this?" I took a few determined steps back from him.

His laughter echoed, buoyed by my defiance. "I do admire your spirit. It's quite charming," he mused.

Determined to reclaim my distance, I stepped away, but he swiftly closed the gap, grasping my waist and spinning me around so that my back met his chest. In an instant, my breath hitched, and I felt his lips near my ear. "But I'm afraid I can't let you leave that easily, sweetheart."

My heart raced as warmth flooded my cheeks, a sensation I fought to conceal by avoiding his gaze. I refused to let him see my flustered state, determined not to grant him any semblance of victory. But the question lingered in the air: why was I reacting this way?

He chuckled softly, clearly enthralled by the effect he'd had on me, savoring every moment. His smirk deepened as he sensed my heart racing, yet he refrained from mentioning it, opting instead to push my buttons further. "Oh, there are countless reasons. Perhaps I simply enjoy having you this close to me. Or maybe I'm not quite ready to release my hold on your delightful spirit."

Driven by a sudden surge of defiance, I seized his arm, twisting it with deft precision until I had him turned around, my grip pressing his arm firmly against his back, rendering him unable to escape. "I think you're listening to me now," I whispered fiercely into his ear. "You may have a handsome face, but I have no intention of entangling myself with a pirate who recently laid hands on my father!"

He let out a huff of surprise at the rapid role reversal, but beneath the annoyance blossomed an undeniable smirk as he admired my strength and audacity. "Ooh, feisty and strong. I like that," he admitted, his amusement evident in the lilt of his voice. "But you know, sweetheart, I had my reasons for confronting your father. It wasn't personal, I swear."

"Oh, but this feels rather personal," I countered, a playful smile dancing on my lips as I landed a swift kick to his leg, sending him tumbling to his knees before me. With his back still turned and my grip unyielding, I leaned closer, my voice a sultry whisper. "I prefer you on your knees, Captain." There was a hint of mischief in my tone as I reveled in his irritation before slipping away into the chaos of the city.

Wincing against the dull throb in his leg, he cursed softly, astonished that I'd toppled him so effortlessly. The world around us seemed to fade as he remained kneeling, still processing the shock of my boldness. As I whispered taunts into his ear, his annoyance simmered, ignited by the warmth of my breath against his skin tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

"You little minx," he muttered, delight dancing in his eyes as a slow smirk crept back onto his lips. "You've chosen to play a dangerous game, sweetheart. Just know this—I'll be coming for you."

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

Rules of a Gentleman

hello! how are you? i’d like to request something for griffin… maybe the reader is robin’s friend and griffin is unsure on how to approach her? also he’s like, afraid to open up and keep pushing his feelings away! could be modern au or canon

Griffin x fem!reader

Warnings: modern au, some cursing

Note: it is done!!! It´s not much concerning the opening up etc., but i hope you still enjoy <3

Words: ~780

Navi.

There are unspoken rules and while he is the first to declare the idiocy of the concept, he does adhere to them, sometimes. For one, he knows that one should not go for a friend's girl. And his younger brother's cute little friend is definitely - definitely - off limits as well.

He's cussing out non-existing gods for getting him into this situation, watching with narrowed eyes while you scutter through the kitchen. You're wearing an awfully lovely dress, he notes, and there is a hint of a smile lingering on the corner of your lips, as if it´s desperately clinging on to you. He tries to remember why he agreed to picking you up; but between Robin calling him gēge and your hopeful eyes brimmed with pretty lashes that flutter so sweetly, he didn't stand a bloody chance.

When you flit past him - murmuring about something that you had forgotten in your bedroom - he gets a whiff of your perfume or body-wash; whatever it is, it's floral (but what does he know?) and it smells so good, he wonders if you like flowers and if he should get you some.

It's even worse in the car. He briefly thinks about crashing the vehicle, just to get out of the situation, but decides against it. Amidst your rambling, a giggle bubbles up and his heart squeezes so tightly he has to catch himself from toppling over.

"Are you okay?" you interrupt yourself, the pad of your fingers hovering over his heated cheeks. He shudders at the hint of your touch, cursing himself at the same time.

"No, fuck, yes, I'm fine," he manages to bite out, cringing internally at how harsh he must have sounded. Nice going Griffin.

"But you're flushed."

"'s probably your imagination," he lifts a hand from the steering wheel to tap you on your forehead.

He can hear you pout as you shook your head, although, to his surprise, you do not pry. Then again, you tend to do that. Back off before he can withdraw. His jaw tenses, but he keeps quiet.

The festival is far too full for his liking. He squints, clearly unhappy with his situation, but still follows you, hands deep in his pocket. Then, for a moment, he loses sight of you. His back straightenes, nervous eyes flitting through the crowd. He pulls his hands from his pockets, about to push his way through the group in front of him. Finally, some people move to the side and he catches a glimpse of you - looking around, confused, evidently searching for him. His posture slackens again, and he gives a lazy wave. He grumbles when he sees how your eyes light up at the sight, but his voice is lost in the noise. When you fight your way back towards him, his body folds into itself even more.

"If you like, you can hold onto my bag, so we don't lose each other." Griffin flinches as your fingers brushe against his knuckles. "Oh, sorry," you murmur and he has to suppress a shudder at the sound.

He wants to reply - say anything - tell you to quit running, to look where you're going, to just keep close to him, before you get hurt or actually lost (Robin would kill him if that happened), but he only shakes his head - A little bit too aggressively perhaps he realises too late and curses himself. Still, there you are smiling at him with that sweet look in your eyes and so, clasping the band of your bag tight, he starts to lead you through the masses.

"If you like, I´ll buy you some mead," you playfully bump against his shoulder.

"Am I not supposed to do that?"

You furrow your eyebrows, a bewildered but amused smile playing on your lips

"I mean...you picked me up and drove me here..." Griffin shrugs and looks away. He jumps when he feels the tip of your finger lightly tracing his cheeks. "Sorry, they seemed a little pink."

For a moment, he simply stares at you, eyes wide in both surprise and what at first looks like anger, but you had learned to see right through him. (Damn you, he thinks.) A laugh escapes you.

"You´re so sweet, playing gentleman for me today?"

"Fucking Christ, don´t let it go to your head," he groans, eyes squeezing shut in exasperation. "Robin asked me to get you here safely, alright?"

"Sure, sure." He doesn't look at you, staring intently at some stalls farther away. Still, he can here the smile in your voice.

Carefully, you loosen his grip on your bag. He doesn't jump this time, there is only a twitch in his jaw and the blossoming red on his cheeks when your gentle fingers lace with his, letting you pull him through the crowd with that damning sweet smile of yours.

He was never good with rules anyways.