#I'm fucking imploding over here

[hylianengineer]

Seething with rage because my DnD character might be about to die (mini boss fight, unconcious, already failed a death save, and I'm the healer), we won't get to resolve the cliffhanger for three more weeks (my job is making me do fieldwork on our game nights), and on top of everything else happening in my life right now that just feels unfair.

[chocosvt]

just came face to face with the paragraph limit

[zaynes-left-chesticle]

ZAYNE?!!

I AM IN PHYSICAL PAIN RIGHT NOW AND I CANT STOP SCREAMING. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING AHHHHHH! 🤯😱🫣😳

[ink--theory]

made the impulsive decision of making a profile on bluesky lol

i'd love to be moots with some of you on there! (≡^∇^≡)

[lieutenantselnia]

I currently have to write a thesis, work on the biggest project in my entire study programme and will have to start preparing for my bachelor's exam at some point, and my brain thinks now it's a good time to get back into Red Dead Redemption 2👍

[earanie]

first post high-fever clear thought: im still so fucking in love and still so fucking heartbroken about it

[bugunlikeanangel]

woah way too long rambly reflection hours at 1am despite having morning tutorial

i think though, my body knew my past relationship was not right for me before even i knew it. right from its inception, despite my surface level happiness, i was always uncomfortable and anxious. it was a love that made me sick and sicker, all the time.

and part of me thought it was commitment issues that stopped me from sticking to a great guy, but it wasnt commitment issues. it was just my body screaming at me to get out.

and its not like he was a terrible person. on the contrary, he was so good, and good to me. just not right for me. square peg in a round hole. it never would have worked, i just didn't know that at the time.

breaking up felt like i could breathe again, after being held underwater. i didn't even realise i felt like that until i was out of it.

i'm so so so grateful to him and the experience, even if it ended really ugly to be honest.

i don't have commitment issues. i didn't think like or love could feel like this. i thought it would always come attached to baggage, shit, and regret. but all the worries i struggled with then are completely gone. no wandering eyes, no desire to run away, no anxiety to leave. a singular desire for him and him only. a strong desire to put in the hard work to cultivate and maintain a healthy relationship. wanting to stay. to settle here, call him home and build my house here.

i know it's still early days. but even if he breaks my heart, i'll let him with a smile. i'm just happy to be here. i value all experiences, even if they end bad and even if it's temporary. and i want him to be happy no matter what, even if it's without me. i also still want my ex to be happy no matter what and i always will. and i know he's happier with me out of his life now. so i respect that.

[aakeysmash]

christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

[extraspicynoodles-blog]

SOAKED THROUGH (GOJO X YOU ONE SHOT)

heavy nsfw warning. pure smut. c: wc: 4.7k

————

You're halfway through a movie, some random action flick Satoru claimed was "a cinematic masterpiece" (it wasn't,) when he groans dramatically and shifts on the couch for the fifth time.

"You're sooo far away," he pouts, arms spread across the back of the couch like a sulking child. "I can't feel your warmth. I might die."

You roll your eyes but scoot over anyway, settling beside him.

"No, no," he whines, grabbing your waist and guiding you around until you're perched in his lap, facing the TV. "Here. This is better."

You snort. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe. But now I'm warm," he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. "And you smell nice. And I can do this."

His hands slide up under your hoodie, not groping, just resting warm and possessive on your hips. His thumbs trace slow circles. His breath fans against your neck.

When you shift a little to get comfortable, you feel him.

"Satoru."

"Sorry," he says quickly. Way too quickly. "Ignore it. It's fine. I can behave… Probably."

You squirm again, just slightly, and his breath stutters.

"You're not helping," he mutters into your shoulder. "You're gonna give me a seizure."

You smirk, knowing exactly what you're doing now. "I'm just sitting."

He groans, full body tense beneath you. "You're doing it too well."

His hands move to grip your hips. His voice drops, lower now, needier.

"If you sit in my lap like this, you have to take responsibility," he whispers, a kiss brushing your neck. "You can't just squirm and breathe and exist like that."

You tilt your head to the side, teasing. "And what if I do?"

He bucks up slightly against you, groaning again.

"I'll self implode, that's what," he breathes. "I'll die with a boner and it'll be your fault."

You laugh, but he's dead serious.

You shift again with a little smirk, and his breath hitches, sharp and desperate. His arms tense around your waist.

"Oh my god," he groans under his breath. "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

You raise an eyebrow, not even trying to hide your amusement. "Help what?"

"I swear I was just trying to be cute," he says, voice already spiraling. "I just wanted to cuddle. Be close. Hold you like a normal fucking person."

You feel him throb beneath you.

"But now... now I can feel your ass on my cock and I'm thinking about so many things and I just can't- fuck, I can't help it. I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot."

You shift again, teasingly. "Well, I mean, you did pull me into your lap."

"I didn't think this far ahead!" he whines, half laughing, half agonized. "I just missed you. And you looked so cute and soft and warm and now you're- god, don't move again or I might ascend."

You go to move off him, amused. "Okay, maybe I should-"

"WAIT! no, please!" His arms tighten around your waist. "Don't move. I'll be good, I promise. I swear. I won't even breathe weird."

You pause.

He peeks at you with those wide, frantic blue eyes and whispers, "Just... let me touch you. Let me have this. Just for a little bit. You have no idea what this is doing to me."

You lean back, letting your full weight rest against him again.

He lets out a shaky little moan.

"I'm going to explode," he whispers. "Like, actually might die. This is torture. Delicious torture. Deliciorture."

"That's not a word."

"It is now," he mumbles. "Webster's can suck it."

You laugh. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm suffering," he insists. "You're sitting on my dick and calling me dramatic like this is fine for a man in love."

You turn your head slightly, lips brushing his ear. "Maybe I like watching you suffer."

He whimpers. You feel his cock twitch beneath you and he makes a broken, pleading sound into your neck.

"God, I'll be good. Just don't move. Or do. I don't even know anymore. We don't have to do anything. Just... I don't know. I'm broken."

Your fingers thread into his hair. You lean back against him. "Okay."

And just like that, his mouth is at your neck, reverent, worshipping. His hands glide slowly up your thighs, thumbs brushing along your waistband.

"I'm gonna be good," he whispers, already losing his mind. "I swear. I'll just... touch. Just feel."

You both know it won't stop there. But… it feels so good to pretend.

You stay still... for a while. Long enough to hear his breathing steady a little. Long enough for the warmth of his body under yours to settle into something soft. Sweet.

But then... you shift. Just slightly. Just enough to get more comfortable. And he gasps.

"Ugh, fuck," he grits, hands flinching on your waist.

You glance back. "Babe, I was just getting comfy."

"I know, I know," he groans, eyes squeezed shut like he's in actual pain. "It's just- you were already comfy. Now it's, like, upgraded comfy. Super comfy. GOD tier comfy. Okay, you know what, I'll shut up."

You raise an eyebrow. "You done?"

"No," he pouts, mumbling into your shoulder. "But I'm trying."

A few minutes pass. He rests his chin back on your shoulder, quietly sulking, occasionally squeezing your hips just to ground himself.

And then, just to be mean, you shift again - slow this time. A purposeful roll of your hips right against the hard line of him.

He chokes.

"That- okay, that was on purpose."

"Maybe," you hum. "Maybe not."

He grips your hips like a lifeline, holding you flush against him. "If you're gonna torture me," he mutters, voice low and breaking, "at least let me keep holding you. At least let me feel you."

You stay there for a moment, perched in his lap, pressed against the thick heat of him. His fingertips dig into your waist like he's desperate to ground himself.

Then he lets out a small, stuttered whimper.

You turn your head and smirk. "You look like you're about to cum right here."

He blushes. Actually blushes.

"Y-Yeah," he breathes. "Probably. Like... one more grind and it's over for me."

You pause, tilting your head. And then a devious little idea sparks behind your eyes.

"If I can make you cum," you say slowly, voice lilting with that dangerous softness he loves, "with all my clothes still on..."

His breath catches.

You shift again - slow, controlled, a slow drag of your ass over him that makes him shudder.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "You're actually evil. You're evil. You're perfect. But evil."

You laugh into his neck and roll your hips again. His grip falters. His forehead drops to your shoulder. He's breathing harder now. Shakier.

"I can't do this," he groans. "I'm gonna bust like a teenager in gym shorts. This isn't fair. You can't just- fuck, again? Really??"

You smirk, moving again. Just once more. Just enough to make him twitch.

"Say please."

He moans. Loudly.

"...Please."

You roll your hips again - slow, torturously slow, and he makes this desperate little sound in the back of his throat, like something between a gasp and a whimper.

His fingers dig tighter into your waist. "Okay," he pants, "fuck, turn around. Straddle me. Please. Wait- no. Don't. I- I don't know what I want. I do, but also I don't. I'm broken. You broke me. This is your fault."

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "You sure?"

"No," he whines. "Yes. Maybe. Probably."

You twist slightly in his lap and glance at him over your shoulder. "Do you think I could actually make you cum... with all our clothes still on?"

He looks up at you with wide, glassy eyes. Wrecked.

"Honestly?" he breathes. "Yeah. You could say the alphabet and I'd probably cum on 'Q.'"

You smirk. "Challenge accepted."

You shift again, slow and deliberate, grinding against the thick, twitching bulge in his sweats. He gasps a shaky, desperate sound that echoes in the quiet room. Then you slowly turn around and lower yourself to straddle him.

He looks up at you like you're something divine.

His hands flutter uselessly at your hips, unsure whether he's allowed to grab, to hold, to anchor himself while you work him into ruin.

"Okay," you murmur, leaning forward until your nose brushes his. "No touching. Hands stay here."

You guide his hands to his sides.

He whimpers. "You might actually be a sadist."

You ignore his comment rolling your hips once in response. Slow. Controlled. A perfect drag of pressure along the length of him. And his head slams back into the couch cushion.

"Oh my god-"

You do it again.

And again.

Each movement is precise. Measured. Designed to pull the most broken little sounds from his throat.

"Satoru," you coo sweetly. "You said you'd be good."

"I am being good," he chokes. "I'm being so good. I haven't even grabbed your ass yet. And that's, like, nearly impossible for me."

"Shh," you whisper, rolling your hips harder this time. "Too much talking, baby."

He's trembling now. Hands clenched in the cushions, jaw slack, pupils blown wide with need. And when you press down a little harder, grind just right, he moans. Loud. Desperate.

His hips buck.

"FUCK. Baby, I- shit- please. Please, please let me touch you. Just one hand. Just one! I'm gonna cry. I'm actually gonna cry."

You still your hips, hovering. He looks up at you like you've snatched air from his lungs.

"Do you want to cum?" you ask sweetly.

He nods, fast and frantic. "Yes. So bad. So fucking bad. I'll do anything."

You lean down, brushing your lips against his cheek.

"Then beg."

He actually whimpers.

You roll your hips again, just once, and he lets out a breathless, high pitched whine. His hands twitch where they're gripping the couch cushion, white knuckled, shaking.

"Y'know," he gasps. "Before you I always thought I was like, I dunno, a dominant alpha guy or whatever, but now? Now I'd bark for you. Literally. I'd get on my knees and fucking bark."

You raise an eyebrow. "Would you actually?"

He stares up at you like you've just challenged his entire existence. "...Yeah. I would."

You smirk, then silence him with a slow, indulgent kiss, your lips just barely grazing his. He sighs into it, already chasing more. Your hips grind down harder this time and he nearly bucks up again, but you catch it - feel his fingers sneak just a little too far, just barely brushing the swell of your ass.

Your hand flies back and swats at his.

He gasps.

"Be good," you murmur against his lips. "Or no orgasm for you."

He whines. "Fuck. okay, okay. I'm good. I'm so good. I'm a saint."

You pull back, just far enough to see the flushed, desperate look on his face. His cheeks are pink, lips kiss swollen, and his eyes are swimming.

You tilt your head, still slowly rocking against him. "What do I get if I make you cum right now?"

He blinks at you like that's the most obvious question he's ever been asked.

"Anything." His voice breaks. "A bath. I'll run you a bath. I'll wash your hair. I'll- fuck, I'll eat you out until the sun comes up, I swear. I'll go get you food. I'll do all of the above. Just... please."

You grind down harder, feel him throb against you through the layers of fabric between you.

He gasps, loud and ragged, and throws his head back. "Holy shit. I'm gonna die. This is what dying feels like."

You lean in close, whispering into his ear. "You're lucky I love you so much."

He whimpers. "Lucky? I'm the luckiest fucking man alive, babe. I already know that. Do you see yourself?"

"You sure you can handle a little more?" you murmur, starting another slow roll of your hips.

"I can handle anything," he breathes, trembling under you. "Just don't stop. Please don't stop."

You hum, still teasing, still keeping the pace deliberately slow and delicious. "Might keep you like this all night. All worked up. Maybe I'll never let you cum."

His whole body jerks beneath you. "Oh my god. That's the hottest thing you've ever said to me. Please say it again. Say it and slap me."

You burst out laughing. "You are so broken."

He pants, eyes wild and dazed. "You did this to me."

You lean down again, grazing your lips along the shell of his ear. "Okay," you whisper. "You can move."

The whimper that escapes him is so desperate you feel it in your core.

He wastes no time. His hips snap up with a slow, deliberate grind that has his head tilting back, jaw slack, eyes nearly rolling back into his head as they flutter shut. His grip on your hips tightens, almost bruisingly so.

You let him. Let him hump up against you through both your clothes, hot and helpless, making all these filthy little noises like he can't believe this is real. His hands slip back, cupping your ass through your sweats, and he moans again, louder this time.

"F-fuck," he gasps. "Okay. Okay- this is insane. You feel so- I can feel you through all this, holy shit."

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair as you grind back just a little - matching his rhythm, letting him have it without fully giving in.

"God, I'm not gonna last," he moans. "I'm not even inside you and I'm gonna- fuck-"

You press your chest closer, nuzzle his cheek like you're comforting him, and whisper, "You're doing so good for me." His breath catches.

You sit up slightly, slowly reaching down between your bodies. His hips freeze. Your hand slips over the bulge in his sweats. He’s warm, he’s hard, and he’s twitching, almost pathetically.

"Is this okay?" you ask, eyes glittering.

He stares at you like you've offered him a glimpse of heaven. "You- you're asking? I would sign over the rights to my entire soul for this moment."

You roll your eyes, but your palm presses down, just enough to make him jolt under you.

And then you spot it. Feel it soaked through on the palm of your hand.

A tiny, damp spot blooming at the front of his pants.

You raise your brows. "Satoru..."

"I KNOW I'M SORRY," he blurts. "You touched me and my whole body just said oops."

You blink at him. "Did you just-?"

"NO," he says, frantic. "Just a little. Just- just like a pre explosion situation. A warning leak. A drip of devastation."

You snort. "A warning leak?"

He's beet red now, panting, still grinding up into your hand like he has no shame. "That's not the point. The point is, you're dangerous. You're mean. You're a bully."

You lean in, brushing your nose against his. "You love it."

He lets out a shaky laugh. "You're right. I do. I'm so fucking obsessed with you I'd crawl for you."

You press your hand down harder. His hips stutter. "You're doing a pretty good job of humping instead."

He whimpers again. "I will literally make you breakfast for a month if you keep touching me."

You hum thoughtfully. "That depends... what else are you gonna offer me?"

He moans, actual pornographic levels of noise, and begs, "Anything. Anything you want. Just don't stop."

You slide off his lap in a single, teasing motion, dropping to your knees between his legs.

His breath stutters. "Wait- wait, baby, what are you...?"

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, and the sight alone nearly kills him. You place your hands on his thighs and lean forward, lips brushing softly over the bulge in his sweats. Just once. Barely there. Just enough to make him twitch.

"Fuck."

You do it again, this time slower. Add a single, soft lick through the fabric. And then another.

He grabs the armrest like it's the only thing tethering him to earth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. That's cheating. You're cheating."

You glance up at him with a smirk. "Am I?"

"YES," he blurts, face red, chest rising fast. "This is criminal. You're not even naked and I'm about to lose all dignity I've ever had."

You press a kiss to the tip, still hidden by his sweats, and his hips jerk. He lets out a choked groan - and then he's pulling you up. Gently, but desperately.

"No, no, no, this isn't fair," he says, breathless. "I want your mouth on me so bad I think I'm going to cry, but- fuck, I don't even deserve that right now. That's too much. That's- hellish. Now I know you’re the devil and I know I don’t even deserve it."

You settle back onto his lap, straddling him again, and he clutches your hips like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

"I- can we just... can you grind on me again?" he begs, voice wrecked. "It's almost hotter like this. With the clothes on. With the way you look at me. Like I'm yours to keep and play with."

You blink slowly, tilting your head. "You are mine."

He lets out a cracked laugh, eyes wide and awed. "Yeah. Yeah, I fucking am. God, you're so evil. So perfect. So fucking perfect."

You roll your hips just once. It's slow, smooth, and precise.

He whines. Whines. "Oh my god. I swear you were a siren in your past life. You're built to ruin men."

You smirk again. "Not men. Just you."

He whimpers like you've stabbed him in the heart with love and lust and pure, delicious suffering.

"Holy shit," he mutters, letting his head fall back. "You're gonna kill me. I'm gonna die right here. What a fucking way to go."

You grind down again, and he actually moans. Loud. "You poor thing," you purr. "So desperate. So, so needy."

He nods helplessly. "Yes. Yes the fuck I am. For you? Always."

You're still straddling him, still grinding slow and cruel, just enough friction to keep him shaking but not enough to give him what he wants. He's panting now, lips parted, hair sticking to his forehead. A mess. Your mess. And lord, does he love it.

He buries his face in your neck, moaning shamelessly. "Please... please, I can't take it-"

You tug his hair just enough to tilt his head back. "Eyes on me, baby."

He obeys instantly, blinking up at you, glassy and dazed.

"You're doing so good for me," you murmur, lips brushing his. "You wanna finish, don't you?"

He nods rapidly, almost embarrassingly. "Yes. Yes. Please."

You lean in closer, breath ghosting across his mouth, your voice low and commanding. "Then look me in the eye when you do it."

His breath catches. That's the moment. You can feel the tension ripple through his body like a wave crashing - shoulders tensing, hands digging into your hips, thighs trembling beneath yours.

"Oh fuck-" he gasps, eyes locked on yours as his whole body shudders violently, hips jerking up against you while he cums. "Fuckfuckfuck-"

You don't stop moving, don't let him look away. You feel the warmth of him seeping through the fabric and smirk. You hold his face in your hands as he loses all restraint, whispering softly through his moans.

"Good boy. Just like that. Yeah, that’s it. Cumming for me without me even touching your skin, hm?"

His lips are parted, eyes wide and vulnerable, his entire chest rising in sharp, uneven breaths. And even as the aftershocks hit him, he doesn't break eye contact - not until he slumps forward, spent and ruined, resting his head against your shoulder like he's afraid he might float away.

"...holy shit," he breathes.

You smile, running your fingers through his damp hair. "Guess you were right."

He lets out a weak, breathless laugh. "You're terrifying. Beautiful, perfect, terrifying."

You kiss the top of his head. "Only for you."

His moans taper off into a ragged breath, head falling back as his body trembles beneath you. You don't stop - your hips still rolling slow, cruel. Just enough to keep him right there in the aftermath. Floating. Overstimulated. Completely yours.

His eyes flutter open, glassy and ruined, and he whines.

"I just came in my sweats."

You blink. "Yeah, I know, baby."

"No, like- it's soaking through the fabric. It's on the couch." His head drops against the cushion as he exhales. "I don't even fucking care."

You laugh, low and wicked, and run your fingers through his hair. He's still twitching under you, legs spread, thighs trembling, completely collapsed. "You're disgusting," you murmur sweetly.

"I know." He's grinning now, dazed and blissed out. "Disgustingly in love with you."

You kiss his cheek. "You're gonna clean the couch."

"Absolutely not."

"Satoru."

"Okay, fine," he groans. "But like, later. Let me die happy first."

You roll your eyes but stroke his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw. "Still think you're the dominant one?"

He lets out the softest laugh. "You broke me. I'm never recovering. You could ask me to bark again and I'd do it."

You tilt your head with a teasing smile. "Tempting."

He groans dramatically and pulls you against him. "Please cuddle me before I cry."

You settle into his lap, smirking. "Cuddle now. Couch cleaning later."

"Deal. And maybe round two?"

You hum thoughtfully, already running your fingers through his damp hair again.

"...We'll see."

You're still catching your breath, teasing him about the mess he made, when his hands suddenly grip your thighs - tight, purposeful.

"Hey," he says, voice lower now. Steady. Too steady. "You know I was serious, right?"

You blink down at him. "About what?"

He shifts, gaze darkening with something softer. Heavier. "I said I'd do anything for you."

You barely have time to react before he flips you over, gently but assertively, laying you back against the cushions. You gasp, more from the sudden shift in tone than the movement.

"Satoru, what are you-"

He climbs between your legs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your sweats. "Returning the favor."

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. "With your clothes still on?"

He smirks, wicked and reverent all at once. "Oh, no. My queen deserves skin."

You barely manage to breathe before his sweatshirt is gone. He strips down like it's nothing, like it's urgent. Not desperate like before. This time it's reverence. Worship.

And when he leans in, pressing slow kisses to your stomach, your hipbones, your thighs, he murmurs, "You have no idea what you do to me."

You squirm under his touch, but his palms spread wide to still you.

"Let me take care of you," he whispers, almost pleading. "Please."

And then he kisses lower - slow, like he's relearning every inch of you by heart. Like loving you is the only thing that's ever made him feel worthy.

He drags your sweats down with almost too much focus, his lips already following the path of bare skin as it's revealed. He's on his knees now, literally - and something about that fact alone makes your breath hitch.

He doesn't ease in.

He devours.

There's no teasing this time, no playful smirk or delayed gratification. It's just raw need, reckless devotion. His mouth meets you like it's the only thing keeping him alive, and maybe it is. His fingers grip your thighs tight enough to bruise, holding you open, steady, and right where he wants you.

Your head tips back, spine arching, toes curling. A cry tears from your throat as his tongue moves like he's making art out of you. Filthy, reverent art. And it's not just what he's doing, it's the way he sounds.

Breathy moans. Desperate whimpers. Muffled praise.

"Oh my god, baby... so good, you're so good- fuck, what did I do to deserve this-"

He babbles against you like he's in a trance. Like this isn't just an act, it's a homecoming.

You fist the into his hair, thighs trembling, and still he doesn't stop. His fingers join his mouth, causing coordinated chaos. Fast. Intuitive. Obsessed. And he's muttering now, voice wrecked and raw:

"I'd do this forever. I will do this forever. You don't understand. I'm yours. I belong to you. You could kill me right now and I'd die happy- fuck, look at you-"

You're writhing. Moaning. Arching so hard your hips lift off the couch, and he just groans in response, like the way your body reacts to him is better than oxygen.

And when you glance down at him, white hair messy, flushed cheeks, pupils blown wide, he's looking up at you like he's falling in love all over again.

You're close. He knows it. Feels it. And he's not letting up.

"Satoru," you gasp, voice breaking. "I- I'm-"

"Do it," he begs, not missing a beat. "Let me feel you fall apart. Please. I want it, I want all of it- Wanna taste it, wanna make a mess of you, just like this-"

His fingers curl just right inside you, like he knows your body better than you do. His mouth is still working you over, slow licks growing messier with each whimper you let out. He's soaked in you, chin sticky, voice hoarse when he finally pulls back just enough to speak, lips brushing your inner thigh.

"Breathe for me, baby," he murmurs, voice cracked and thick with awe. "You're doing so good, fuck... so good for me."

His thumb strokes over your clit, featherlight, coaxing, not commanding. He sounds completely undone. Gone. Worshipful.

"I can feel you- god, you're close, aren't you? You're shaking," he babbles softly, kissing the inside of your knee, then dragging his mouth back up. "Let go, sweetheart. Please, please let go for me. I need it. I need to feel you fall apart."

He presses his mouth back to you like he'll die without it, moaning low as you tense beneath him. His fingers pump a little faster, angled perfectly, and his voice breaks again.

"That's it. That's it, I've got you, I've got you," he whispers, almost delirious now. "You're so close baby. I want to feel you squirt all over my mouth."

You cry out, back arching, and his hand doesn't stop moving. He's right there with you, babbling praises, panting like he's the one about to cum.

"Shit, you're so perfect, so fucking perfect, I'd stay down here forever, I swear-"

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, and he moans like it's his own - groaning into you, fingers and tongue slowing only when your body finally starts to tremble from overstimulation. He kisses your inner thigh again, leaving a trail of your slick behind, then rests his cheek there like he can't bear to be any further away.

"You're okay," he whispers against your skin. "You're okay. You did so good for me. I've never- fuck, I've never seen anything so beautiful."

He doesn't let up until you're gasping and twitching, and even then, he lingers - tongue slow and reverent as he cleans you with his mouth. Every kiss, every gentle swipe of his tongue feels more like a prayer than anything else. By the time he pulls back, his lips are swollen and slick, pupils blown so wide they almost swallow the blue.

He looks up at you, completely ruined. Face soaked. Scum and saliva dripping from his chin.

"Shit," he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. "You taste like you were made for me."

There's a tremble in his hands when he helps you dress, like he's trying to pretend he isn't shaking from how hard that wrecked him. He tugs your sweats back up your legs so gently it makes your chest ache. Then he throws on his own shirt, backwards, and doesn't notice. He's too busy tucking you into his side on the couch, one arm slung tight around your waist, his nose pressed into your hair like he needs to breathe you in.

And for a long moment, he just lies there.

Clinging.

Breathing like he's still trying to come down. Like you broke him a little.

Then, quietly, still against your hair: "You still want me to clean the couch?"

You blink. And he has the audacity to look up at you with wide, innocent eyes like he wasn't just tongue deep in a religious experience five minutes ago.

"I mean," he adds, nuzzling your cheek with a shit eating grin now curling at the corners of his mouth, "I could leave the stain. As a tribute."

He winks.

"Like a little shrine. For the moment I saw God."

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[seat-safety-switch]

Wait, who told you they built this city on rock and roll? Did you ask them for their credentials? The reason why I ask is, and I'm sure you're starting to wonder yourself by now, is that I'm pretty fucking positive that they were not qualified geologists.

Yes, I realize that I'm "shouting" and making a "hostile workplace." Do you know what else is a hostile workplace? This office after about thirty seconds of quartering winds, when it implodes into the parking garage. You guessed it, because its foundation was constructed entirely on glam metal at best, which we all know is terrible at supporting two hundred thousand tons of concrete in compression.

Ted. Ted. Get over here. Do you see this sinking piling? Yeah. You see it. Ted, get a drill team in this building fucking pron-to, and let's see if these dipshits actually managed to hire someone to put a 50-storey skyscraper on top of a bunch of old Tonto albums. I can already feel the weight of our sins swaying above us, ready to crush the entire populace of downtown if a seagull shits on the building wrong. God willing, we're going to find out that it's at least progressive rock.

It could be a lot worse. It really could, Ted. When I was your age, I went to this new fancy-dan geodesic dome thing they built for the World Fair. Everyone was so proud. And they were dead like, fifteen minutes later. Crushed to molecule-thin paste. Why, Ted? Because they built it on bubblegum pop. Germans love that shit, it's so easy to get for cheap. Bubbles are voids. They had to have known. I won't let them forget.

[sungstars]

fall off. | pjs x fem!reader

i.e your boyfriend is so shy and you have so much fun making him flustered!

content warning: smut! (18+ only, mdni!!), oral (f. rec), fingering (f. rec), implied dom!sung sorta… established relationship!

word count: 1.6k (not proof read sawri)

author's note: this is entirely based off of that tiktok sound that goes "come here bae come sit next to me come and take ur draws off damn u on the edge of the bed u about to fall off!" i had sososos much fun writing this :3 i love freaky shy jisung! likes & reblogs are very appreciated and i hope u guys enjoy reading this!! also i finished this before the hurricane hits because i have nothing better to do for the next few hours LOL... will try to get some more stuff out over the next few days!

"come sit next to me," you patted the empty space on your bed as you looked across at your boyfriend, jisung, "why are you so nervous?"

jisung was gripping his jeans so hard his knuckles were turning white and ears flushed fiery red, "oh. i'm okay right here. thanks."

his words were coming out very strained and jisung couldn't even bring himself to look at you, "it's really warm in here."

"you are wearing jeans and a hoodie, as well as a long sleeve shirt underneath it," you replied, leaning back against your pillows and extending your legs out, "you could take them off."

jisung's voice got caught in his throat, face turning beet red, "all of it?"

you giggled, poking his side gently with your foot, "sure. make sure you take your underwear off too."

it took everything in you to not bust into laughter at your boyfriend, and it took everything in jisung to try not to implode from embarrassment.

jisung was by no means a virgin, he had a plethora of sex before the two of you started dating. there was just something about you that made him so nervous to be intimate with you.

you had your fair share of make out sessions, always ending up with you in his lap and sucking dark hickeys into his neck, but anytime the two of you tried to do more, he just froze up and couldn't.

of course you never made him feel bad about it. you found it endearing and cute how nervous he was. even when jisung mentioned that he never had this issue before, you didn't get upset. you were so understanding.

"jisung," you sat up on your elbows, "come back to me. you started wondering off in your little world again."

he muttered out a quick sorry, starting to fan his face gently to calm down this heat in his face. you watched him in adoration, smiling because he was just too cute when he was flustered.

however, your head tilted in concern when you saw how far off the bed he was, "sung, you're about to fall off of the bed."

"oh. didn't even notice." he scratched the back of his head, adjusting his positioning on the bed, leaning against the wall, "sorry."

the two of you fell into a silence, comfortable for you, but awkward for jisung. you stretched your legs out to lay across his lap as you rested against the pillows again and closing your eyes.

jisung didn't know what to do or say. he's been in your room before, so he's not sure why he feels so. . . hot. the temperature isn't too high, and he's been in physical contact with you.

he really wants to get more physical, to make you feel good and fall apart from pleasure that he knows he can inflict upon you. there was just. . . something that made him nervous about doing it. maybe he didn't want to disappoint you because unlike other people he's slept with, you are a constant presence in his life.

and also, most of the people he's slept with were drunk freshman year experiences.

he just needed to stop thinking about the what ifs. jisung needed to stop thinking in general, he just needed to do it. he was more than capable of doing these things to you.

"stop thinking." he told himself as he looked at your legs across his lap, drumming his fingers against them, "just do it."

"fuck it, we ball." he squeezed his eyes shut before adjusting himself to stand on his knees, pushing your legs gently to stand between them.

your eyes fluttered open, looking up at your boyfriend who had an unreadable expression on his face, "everything okay, ji?"

jisung nodded, his hands coming up to unzip his hoodie before shrugging it off and tossing it behind him, "y-yeah."

you smiled up at him, gazing at his defined arms before finding his eyes again, "you look handsome."

his cheeks turned a rosy pink which caused him to mentally curse because he just got that hue to leave his face, "you look pretty. you always do."

"what's on your mind?"

with a strong exhale through his nose, jisung pushed all of these nervous thoughts that returned down and pressed his lips against yours.

a surprised noise escaped you, but you brought your arms to wrap around his neck and kissing him back. one of his hands brought your leg to his hip, pressing his growing erection into you and causing you to part your lips slightly.

jisung took his opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you gently tugged on the nape of his hair. a moan escaped the man above you, causing you to pull on it again to get another noise out of him.

his hands began to wonder between the two of you, starting to travel underneath the material of your camisole, fingers dancing lightly against the expanse of your stomach.

the boy pulled away from you slightly, his lips slightly swollen and eyes full of desire, "can i. . .can i touch you, y/n?"

"of course you can, ji." you said softly, hands rubbing up and down his chest, "you can do whatever you want."

he gently pushed your shirt up until it reached your collarbones, breath hitching when he saw that you weren't wearing a bra.

you watched him for a moment, wondering if he would touch you or get flustered and pull your shirt back down over your tits.

instead, he caught you by surprise and leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth while rolling the other one around between his fingers.

a noise of pleasure escaped you, bringing your hands up to his hair to pull on it once more.

jisung switched between your tits constantly, making sure to show them an equal amount of attention before removing them from his mouth and continuing to kiss down your stomach.

the cold air coming into contact with your now hard nipples caused you to whimper, jisung looking up at you with concern.

"are you okay? should i stop?" he asked, pulling himself up to check on you, which you quickly stopped by pushing his head back down.

"i'm fine, perfect actually," you flashed a reassuring smile at him, "continue, please."

he nodded, beginning to kiss your stomach once more, his hands moving their way up to your shorts.

jisung gently dipped his fingers into your waistband, slowly starting to pull them down to your hips.

his lips followed behind, kissing over the hibiscus tattoo that began to fade after years without a touch up, grazing his teeth over the skin lightly.

“no panties?” he murmured against your skin, biting down harshly, “hah. . . it’s like you planned this.”

you smiled mischeviously at the boy between your thighs, threading your hand through his hair, "wishful thinking."

"don't think," he said in between kisses, pulling your shorts down your thighs and over your ankles, tossing them behind him, "just focus on me."

jisung grabbed one of your legs, adjusting himself before placing your knee over his shoulder and attaching his lips to your inner thighs.

you felt your heartrate pick up, nervous at what was to come next. you talked a big game because you didn't actually think anything would come from teasing jisung.

his lips traveled closer to your core, but instead focused on sucking light marks into your skin. jisung wanted to see how desperate you could get for him, even though he wanted nothing more but to taste.

"ji," you whined out, tugging on his hair harshly, "don't be a fuckin' tease. you were just acting like a virgin who's never even touched a girl before."

annoyance crept up on jisung, rolling his eyes in disbelief. there was no way he was gonna let you talk to him like that when you both know he is far from a virgin.

"talking a lot for somebody who wants to be touched," he muttered back, using two of his fingers to spread your lips open and admiring how glistening your cunt was, "she's practically drooling for him."

your face flushed at how vulgar he was, but oh you were eating it up on the inside. this is exactly what you wanted, jisung to snap and show you how nasty he was under that shy boy exterior, "then do something about it."

jisung ignored your comment, blowing air on you cunt to make you shut up. he was going to get you to beg, no matter how long it took or how much he desired to lick you clean, "ask nicely."

"i'm not asking for shit," you spat, faux irritation escaping you, "we both know you wanna eat it anyway."

you got him there, he couldn't lie. however, he knew what game you were playing, and he decided to give in, "you're right."

a victorious look on your face quickly contorted to one of pleasure when jisung wrapped his plush lips around your clit.

a high pitched whine left your lips when his teeth gently grazed your bundle of nerves before letting his tongue lick down your slit.

your grip in his hair tightened when you felt his tongue move skillfully as he teased your hole with one of his fingers. the one wrapped around your thigh began digging crescents into your skin, the boy between your legs moaning into your cunt.

"fuck ji," you breathed out when his finger slid into you, gently pumping in and out, "fuck it feels so good."

the boy pulled away for a moment, looking up at you with your juices glossing his lips and dripping down his chin, "good because i don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

END

pt. 2 ???

[evcrmoresworld]

Breaking point 𐙚

Carlos Alcaraz x Reader

nsfw [18+] warnings! oral (f receiving), dirty talk

summary, the sun isn’t the only thing burning on the court. After a frustrating practice session, you hit your breaking point, the pain, pressure, and expectations all threatening to undo you. But Carlos is right there, steady and unshakable, reminding you what it means to let someone in, and what it feels like when someone really wants you, both on and off the court.

The sun is ruthless on the practice courts, baking the green turf to a near shine, making the sweat cling to your skin. You toss the ball into the air, twist, and send your serve spiralling—

Right into the net.

Again.

“Fuck!” you curse, the racquet cracking against the ground louder than you intended. Your shoulder aches, the pain dull at first, but angry now after an hour of pushing too hard. The brace beneath your shirt is too tight. Your patience is gone.

From across the net, Carlos watches you silently. You can feel his eyes like heat on the back of your neck, calm and steady, as if he’s waiting for you to implode. Maybe you are.

“Let’s take five,” he says gently, grabbing a towel and walking to the bench.

“I don’t want five,” you snap, grabbing another ball. “I need to get this right. I'm not gonna be the dead weight on court just because my fucking shoulder doesn't—”

The next serve is even worse, the pain flashing white-hot this time, sharp enough that your knees buckle slightly. You breathe in through your nose, trying to will the sting away.

“Hey.” His voice is closer now. Too close.

You didn’t hear him walk over, but Carlos is standing just behind you, towel slung around his neck, shirt dark with sweat. “You’re pushing it.”

“Don’t do that,” you mutter.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You’re not fragile.” He sounds too calm. Too understanding. “You’re pissed off. And hurting. I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” you spit, turning around too fast, shoulder flaring again. You regret it instantly, biting back tears. “You’re Carlos fucking Alcaraz. Golden boy. You don't get injured. You don't lose your rhythm. You don't get benched and watch everything you've built fall apart.” You let out a groan, fingers pulling at your hair tie. “I’m not letting you down after you’ve risked a lot just to do this for me.”

His brows pinch just slightly, dark eyes scanning your face, your shaking hands. He steps forward carefully. “You think that’s why I’m here? You think I’m doing you a favour?”

You don’t answer. The lump in your throat is thick and ugly, and it’s all too much, the sun, the pain, the eyes on you, his eyes, kind and searching and infuriating.

“I just—” Your voice breaks. “I used to be good. I used to be great. And now I can’t even fucking serve.”

Carlos nods slowly. “Okay. Come here.”

You shake your head. “Carlos, I don’t—”

But his hands are on your waist before you can protest, firm but gentle as he guides you off the court. You resist at first, pushing his chest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Stop fighting me,” he murmurs. “Just let me take care of you.”

That’s when the tears come. Silent at first, then harder. You crumple against him, his chest warm and damp under your hands, arms wrapping around your back like he was built for this, for holding you up when everything else is falling apart.

He says nothing, just rubs slow circles into your spine as your frustration breaks open between you.

Minutes pass like that.

“Fuck,” you whisper into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers in your hair now, brushing it back. “You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You pull back to look at him, cheeks flushed and wet. His gaze drops to your lips, then your shoulder.

“You need to rest that,” he says.

You nod, but don’t move.

“You’re always so calm,” you say quietly. “How?”

“I’m not. I’m just good at hiding it.”

A beat.

Then another.

And then you say it, the thing that’s been there since the first time he agreed to partner with you. “Why did you say yes?”

His eyes flicker. “Because I wanted to.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re Carlos Alcaraz. You could’ve—”

“I wanted you,” he interrupts, voice lower now, rougher. “Not just as a partner.”

Your breath catches.

The heat between you shifts, subtle but unmistakable. His hand is still at your lower back. Your palm is flat against his chest. The sun is hot, but his eyes are hotter, burning into you like a match.

“Carlos—”

“You drive me crazy,” he says, almost like it’s a confession. “Even when you’re pissed off and yelling at yourself. Especially then.”

Your heart is hammering now. “This is a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he murmurs. “But I don’t care.”

And then he kisses you.

You taste salt on his lips, but the sound he makes, a low groan when your teeth graze his bottom lip, makes your knees weak. Carlos presses into you, all lean muscle and burning skin, his hand sliding up the back of your shirt to splay against your spine.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for weeks,” he mutters into your mouth.

“You should’ve,” you whisper, tugging his shirt up and over his head in one rough pull.

Your palms roam his torso, golden, taut, slick with sweat, and he hisses when your nails scrape lightly over his abs. His hands are greedy now, cupping your ass through your shorts, pressing you flush against the hard line of his arousal.

The fence scrapes along your back, but you don’t care. Not with him kissing you like this, hungry, desperate, like he needs you to breathe.

“I want to taste you,” he says suddenly, voice wrecked. “Let me.”

You nod, too breathless to speak, and he sinks to his knees, worshipping you, his hands hooked in your waistband.

He peels your shorts and underwear down slowly, eyes flicking up to watch your reaction as he exposes you inch by inch. He presses a kiss to your hipbone, then your inner thigh, then lower still, until his mouth is hovering right where you need him.

And then his tongue is on you, warm, slow, deliberate. He starts with lazy licks, teasing your folds, before his mouth finds your clit and sucks gently, then harder, his hands keeping your thighs spread.

Your fingers knot into his hair. “Carlos…”

“Mmm?” he hums against you, eyes gleaming with something wicked.

“Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

His tongue is expert, unhurried but thorough, licking and sucking in all the right places until you’re gasping his name, your hands in his hair, body arching toward every touch.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, then circles your clit with infuriating precision. One hand leaves your thigh to slide between your legs, and his fingers, long, talented, and confident, tease your entrance before slipping in.

You cry out, back arching, and he moans softly at the sound.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, voice low and full of awe. “So fucking perfect.”

He crooks his fingers just right, stroking deep and slow while his mouth never relents. It’s too much, too good, too intense; your legs are trembling, and your body spirals toward the edge fast.

“Carlos—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he says, voice dark and commanding, and then he sucks your clit just right and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing over you with enough force to make your vision blur. Your hips stutter against his mouth, and he keeps going through every last aftershock, kissing you gently now, soothing you down.

When he stands again, his lips are slick, eyes blown wide, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came.

[bnyf]

fawn over you ♡

yandere hunter x fawn hybrid reader

warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic

authoress note : first post :3 lowkey inspired by 'my sweet bunny cage' manga and i'm planning on making a bunny hybrid one too

his heart almost imploded and gave out upon sighting such a delicate, dainty fawn such as yourself.

little ole you had him in a rhapsodic trance, him whom's nature greatly differed from hers (you).

he, a mere man who's psychological disturbances causes him to hunt and kill. and you, a lovely creature who now gained the attention of a brute man who's main objective was to capture and claim.

the pattern on your skin like pearls, little dots trailing you. so perfect, almost impossible yet here you were.

it didn't help that by the beautiful white lily of the valley flowers surrounded you, like it was a symbol of how fucking perfect and graceful you are. you were ethereal. an angel or a goddess.

and god, those beautiful glassy orbs peaking his way held nothing but the universe and more in them. so innocent. the epitome of pretty and perfect.

he's sorry you had to meet him of all people, someone who'd ruin and corrupt you but he'd also worship you, others may do much worse to you anyway.

his movements were so still that you'd only notice him due to your instinctive feeling of being watched. your tailed and ears twitched.

you shivered, feeling bare and open to such preying eyes with selfish intent behind them.

his eyes held such a mad and malicious look, as if he were some sort of barbaric mad lad. he looks honcho and quite the opposite of you whom had a much smaller and soft physique.

his whole aura wrecked of death, he is, without a doubt, a true blood lusting predator's, a troubled psychopathy who needed to take his frustrations out on poor, unsuspecting creatures.

with that in mind, and thanks to your nimble agility and speed, you darted off before he could even approach you from the shades of the trees only 10 feet away from you.

he'd only chuckle to himself, engulfed by your beauty and elegance, and more than intrigued by the pretty, little doe-eyed fawn hybrid he just had the pleasure to encounter.

sure. you're quick witted. but being quick only gets you tangled up in a trap quicker.

and with that, his infatuation steadily mounts. he immediately started littering the leafy forest grounds in traps ever since that faithful encounter.

you've taken extra precaution after that day, hiding far away from his cabin and even further from that specific meeting sight.

like a lethal game of hide n seek, you both played your parts. and just like that, you started feeling more unsafe and uneasy knowing that he'd set up traps and cameras, watching your every move, both during the day and night.

sure. he had a life outside of this secluded forest he loves visiting. which is the only thing really giving you time to run and hide.

his work life was distressing as a lawyer, it was a very mentally, emotionally and sometimes psychically taxing line of work.

but that don't mean much considering whenever he got time or a day off, whether late night or not, he'd clear out an entire section of the forest with traps and cameras.

and eventually, you run out of both stamina and luck. you become dreary and tired, exhausted from fearing for your life. and your little stalker becomes impatient.

your little game of cat and mice becomes long over due, and sooner or later, you find yourself injured and trapped in enemy's territory.

it only takes 12 hours for him to finally come off work and whatever other things he may be preoccupied with in his life to come get you.

mean time, you kept your wound clean by licking it, fearing what he'll do to you once he gets there.

and boy oh boy, were you shivering when you'd hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy boots approaching in the darkness of the light midnight. he's here.

you already cried a lot from the pain and realization of your situation but that didn't stop you from repeating the whole process again.

tears already brimming at your swollen, red eyes. the light from his flashlight becoming brighter as he gets nearer, near enough to shine the light directly at you, in your eyes and blinding you from seeing him.

yet he could quite clearly see you, those teary innocent eyes, your wound. every detail up close right in front of him as you lay right in his trap. looking at you with a sinister smile which you cannot see, leaving you guessing what smug facial expression he must have right now.

he let out a feral, maniac laugh.

"my little fawn, you're finally mine."

you had no where to run or hide anymore. grasping onto what little sanity you have now and praying for whatever great deity above to have mercy upon your innocent soul.

what awaited you next was a life of constant torment. the tears run off your chubby soft cheeks, colliding with your skin and the snot in your runny nose made the whole ordeal pathetic and shameful for you.

but to him? it was such an exquisite show! to him... that disgusting crying face of yours was nothing short of adorable.

he grabbed you away, kidnapping you from your carefree life of freedom. the last thing you felt was a prickling sting on your neck before you were enticed with an unknown sleeping drug that took effect instantly.

all the stress and negative emotions that were building up inside subsided as you were knocked out cold, remembering only his footsteps as he carried you to your new home...

the rest of your days were all a painful blur, you were cared for yes but you'd now have shackles placed on your ankles, a big enough cage and a collar. forced to comply to whatever rules he'd put in place for you. punished when disobeyed those rules. dressed to his liking, feed like a child and forced to learn tricks for his entertainment.

for lack of better words, you've been reduced to a pet.

his pet

your leg wound was still healing, which made escaping difficult. worse yet, his home in the city was large and difficult to navigate, with a built in security system that is literally impossible for anyone to get in or out without permission.

"shhhh don't be so scared, you're safe with me, my little fawn," he'd coax, all while keeping you sedated and locked up. you don't know why but for some reason he'd smell strange but also strangely good at the same time. you'd feel a bit oozy when around him, and inhaling his scent was addictive.

that's because his cologne is laced with pheromones and a special drug to get you addicted off him.

but you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know that. your innocent self blamed yourself for becoming addicted to him. he only smiled and hugged you, because he knows you can't think straight every time he's near.

keep this up and he might just send you into heat a little too early. not! that it's a bad thing for him, not that he wouldn't like that of course.

you hated every bit of this. hated him for making you into his glorified object rather than a living being, a person with thoughts and feelings.

but oooohhhh how he loved every second of it, loved dressing you up in all sorts of cute clothing like some little doll, loved pulling your collar when you misbehaved, and absolutely adored watching you get high off him.

the way your nose twitched, and your little tail sweep from side to side, that look you give him cause you're thinking this is all your fault when it's absolutely not.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Heinrix van Calox Lore & Headcannons

Don't mind me, I'm just over here chewing on some random thoughts about our favorite agent of the Inquisition. Playing around with some of it for a fic and writing it out because it helps me organize my thoughts.

Knight World Culture & Heinrix's Internalized Hatred of Psykers

Having grown up on a Knight World, Heinrix would possess an internalized hatred for psykers (generally called "witches" on Knight Worlds) that we see him continually struggle with.

In Warhammer lore, many Knight Worlds survived the Age of Strife due to the fact that these worlds tended to shun psykers and not take advantage of the benefits of advanced machinery. So, when the warp imploded and AI told humanity to get fucked, many Knight Worlds were spared from the horrors of the Age of Strife and went on existing as they always had, led by a doctrine of tradition.

The noble families that lord over Knight Worlds hold to a rigorous belief in honor, fealty, social status, obligation, discipline and self-mastery. This creed is only reinforced by the Throne Mechanicum when, at 18, a prospective Knight pilot bonds with their Imperial Knight suit. The Throne Mechanicum is the cybernetic control hub of an Imperial Knight, and it connects to the pilot via neural interface implants in the pilot's brain. Through this neural connection, the Throne Mechanicum implants positive associations with the concepts of honor, fealty, etc., when the pilot bonds with their Knight. And it continues to do so over the course of the Knight's life. This is why these beliefs are so ingrained in Knight World nobles - because it is constantly reinforced by their bonds with their Imperial Knight suits.

On Knight Worlds, being a psyker is to be something impure, rotten and dangerous. They are the antithesis of everything the nobles hold dear and their shunning of psykers was what kept many of those worlds safe during the Age of Strife. Psykers are seen as unpredictable, violent and corrupted by the warp, and thus have no place in Knight World society. If not outright killed, they are always exiled and sent away on the Imperial Black Ships, just as Heinrix's family did with him.

Though Heinrix never went through the Ritual of Becoming - the rite to bond with an Imperial Knight suit - he was certainly being prepared to and would have grown up with the belief that psykers are corrupted and dangerous. Thus, when his psyker abilities manifested during his adolescent years, everything he believed about psykers was turned inward and became truths about himself.

Time and experiences have altered and evolved his beliefs, and we see him show empathy and understanding for other psykers like Idira and the RT, if they are a psyker. However, at his core remains the belief that psykers are inherently lesser.

We see this time and again, especially on his romance route, with how he talks about himself and psykers, in general. During his romance scene in Commorragh, if the RT questions why he remains loyal to the Imperium, Heinrix will say that the Imperium "deemed me stable enough to keep me as a sanctioned psyker" - refering to the Imperium's sanctioning process for psykers the Imperium wants to enlist. In Heinrix's mind, it's only through the grace of the Imperium that a corrupted individual like him is allowed to live. Which brings me to...

Heinrix believes it's his duty to die for the Imperium.

Heinrix literally believes he owes his life to the Imperium of Man. He grew up believing psykers were evil and corrupt individuals, likely deserving of death. And then his own powers manifested and suddenly he was one of those evil and corrupt individuals.

Something to understand about the Imperium is that sanctioned psykers are rare in Warhammer lore. While there are not any concrete numbers, conjecture from Warhammer books, etc., puts the ratio of those identified as psykers by the Inquisition as one in one billion. Then, in order to sustain the Astronomican, roughly 1,000 psykers perrish daily after being locked inside coffin-like devices bound to the Golden Throne. Inside, their essence is extracted and used to power the Astronomican. Psykers are constantly being shipped to Terra in order to fuel the Golden Throne, and the Imperium is, of course, holding onto backlogs of psykers in case ships don't come in or Terra gets cut off. This is what the majority of psykers in the Imperium are used for, and not many psykers are deemed worthwhile enough to go through sanctioning, which is also limited by the number of sanctioning implants available. Remember, no one is making these devices anymore.

The existence of a psyker in the 40k universe is not a happy one. If you manage to not get sacrificed to the Golden Throne, or used as a test subject or whatever else the Imperium is doing with psykers these days, the most common way to serve as a sanctioned psyker is to become an Astropath. Which sounds like it sucks. Very few are chosen for other service.

Considering all of this, it's hardly surprising that Heinrix feels he owes his loyalty to the Imperium. The Imperium allowed him to live. And then the Inquisition came along and saw something in him worth making him an acolyte for.

After being disowned by his family and having his implants ripped from his body, Heinrix likely thought all that awaited him after the Black Ship was death as a sacrifice to the Golden Throne. And yet he was pardoned and given another chance at life, as long as he uses that life to serve the Imperium.

If the RT passes a Persuasion check to get Heinrix to talk about what happened when he used the cogitator on Kiava Gamma, he even concludes his explanation by saying his "path leads to one place, and one place only."

This man fully expects to, and is ready to, die for the Imperium. The Imperium is the only thing giving him purpose. The Imperium accepted him after his family disowned him. The Imperium is all he has, and he will use the life they allowed him to keep and serve them faithfully until that life is used up. In his mind, he deserves nothing more and ought to be happy to be given the opportunity to exist and serve.

Heinrix is extremely self-concious about his appearance.

We get a hint about this in Act 5 when talking to Tanakia, a member of Calcazar's retinue. She mocks him by talking about the attention he paid to his hair and eyes, a sore point for Heinrix considering that, by the time he joined the Inquisition, he's lost an eye and had a chunk carved out of his head in order to remove various implants.

During his romance scene in Commorragh, he refers to himself as a "maimed freak" and talks about how he used his biomancy to repair his damaged cranium and eye in order to "look more like a human again."

If you're romancing Heinrix, he even leaves after you release him in the Anatomical Opera. When you find him in the Pit, he talks about how he didn't want the others, or the RT, to see him in the condition he was in.

Considering his childhood as a noble on a Knight World, care for appearance would be something strongly instilled within him. Knight Worlds are feudal worlds with highly aristocratic societies, so the concept of presenting a buttoned-up and well-kempt appearance would be important for children of noble families.

Heinrix talks about spending years working to reconstruct his eye, which I think also hints at him having a fastitidious and perfectionist personality. I have a personal headcannon that he dislikes the fact he wasn't able to perfectly match his original eye color, and it's a sore spot for him.

Okay, this is a lot longer than I originally intended for it to be. I've got more, but need to stop turning this man over and over in my head and get some actual work done.

[pompillar]

omg can you the same thing about mc's favorite is jiro but with taiga instead ?? i know its a lot of work but seeing everyone's reaction for jiro alone is soo funny so i thought you could do the other ghouls as well if you have time of course

Oh I see we enjoyed that one. I foresee a series in my future... Okay so let's say Taiga is your favorite ghoul and some how everyone finds out! Their reactions as follows:

Jin - I'm sorry but he's going to be insane about this. Absolutely floored by this information. You picked who? He's your favorite? Taiga? The guy who can't sit down and listen to an assembly without being bribed? Are you insane? Jin's brain might be imploding.

Tohma - Well congrats you've gotten a face crack out of him. The sinostra captain? Actually concerned for you. Might suggest some therapy... of all the ghouls to pick you picked that guy? Talk about falling for the bad boy...

Lucas - Oh sweet summer child is big worried about you. It's like you're a danger magnet and he needs to be there to unstick whatever bad thing comes your way. He's actively bothered that you'd choose him as your favorite when he has never seen Taiga try to defend you.

Kaito - For once he's fucking silent. Just staring wide eyed like he's never heard anything more insane in his life. The guy that makes Romeo lose his mind is your favorite ghoul? The destructive force of nature that is Taiga... asks if you got yourself into debt too. Are you being blackmailed? You can tell him!

Alan - I don't see him having had much interaction with Taiga before but knowing Alan he probably knows enough that he's sure you're in more danger around that head case than you'd ever be in at Vagastrom. If he hears about you going near sinostra he might send Sho to go protect you... he knows he can't go himself. It's too obvious by the way his jaw clenches that this is worrying him.

Sho - Oof. He's... alright I'm basing this off a headcanon that Hyde went to Darkwick as a student and was in sinostra. All sinostra students are public enemy number one. You're telling him that homicidal shark boy gangster is your favorite ghoul? God your head is more fucked than he thought... lowkey bitches about being told to tail you to sinostra but sits nearby with Bonnie just in case...

Leo - Are you stupid or just mental? Wow... he's kinda impressed by how non existent your sense of danger is. Oh wait is it a kink? You like feeling like you're in danger so you go after the most unstable bastard you can find? God that's sad. He's reeling on the inside about just how danger prone you are. Might start getting closer to Romeo in an attempt to keep tabs on you when you're there.

Haru - Do you not love peekaboo anymore?!??!??! How could you favor Taiga?!?!!?? That loan shark with questionable eating habits and an itchy trigger finger?! He'll joke that he's not sure if he can let you babysit for him anymore. A bit hurt like actually though...

Towa - Oh anger. So much anger and storm clouds. Why is flytrap your favorite when he's right here dandelion? Says you should stay away from flytrap. He wouldn't want you to fall into his big hungry jaws and get stuck. Demands you change your favorite right now.

Ren - Huh? He wasn't sure before but he is now. He really is the only sane person in this school. How many times has this guy had you at gun point? Are you trying to get your ass shot? God you're weird. Shuts himself off more than usual after he finds out. No he's not pouting shut up!

Romeo - The BTH? The lunatic that can't DHFJ?! What do you mean he's your favorite?!?!?! Are you trying to give him an aneurysm?! Fine! Take him with you! Less trouble for Romeo! If he tries to shoot you or cut you up or eat you you can't return him! You knew the risks!

Ritsu - Actual short circuiting. Wide eyes, gaping like a fish, clutching his pearls pose. You can't favor one of your clients! That's inappropriate! Internally combusting over the revelation that he's not your favorite.

Subaru - Oh the pity in his eyes... It's like he's seen this kind of thing before. Recalls a lot of doomed lovers type of plays because of this. Knows of Taiga more than knows him as far as I'm concerned he stays the hell away from that guy. He hopes you're being careful, don't be surprised if you start getting more invites for tea. But just for you and him...

Haku - Princess be so serious right now. Didn't that guy try to throw you out of a moving train??? He injured you, he's a danger to everyone including himself, he's also kinda douchy... What? who said that? Not Haku! And if he starts doing protection rituals at night nobody is going to say shit so don't ask.

Zenji - 100% is always so nice about everyone and would probably compliment taiga's clothes. But! My personal feelings about his reaction are that he calls Taiga a cad. He does not like the guy. He's disrespectful, he doesn't know how to keep his dirty mouth shut, he's always shooting first and thinking later. He's a dreadful person what's wrong dear? Do you need to talk something out? He's all ears doll just come to him.

Edward - Oh he's wounded. Just downright pouty. You consider Ed dangerous but somehow you're not phased by Taiga? Darling you shouldn't scare an old man like that. What if he has a heart attack? Ignore that he likely doesn't have a heartbeat...

Rui - Internal reaction -> OTL Tai? You like Tai more than him? Don't get it twisted Tai used to be alright... But you never met him back then. You only have whatever he's got going on now to go off and you still picked him? There is some uuuuugly jealousy in this blond boy's heart right now.

Lyca - After asking around about who the guy is he isn't leaving your fucking side. Ever again. You need constant protection in his eyes. Are you losing your mind or is something going on that you aren't telling him? Doesn't matter, werewolf backpack mode activated

Yuri - ...Jiro get a cat scan set up stat. He has got to figure out what brain injury caused this. It would be one thing to pick a Frostheim favorite... aka painful. But to pick one of the most destructive and dangerous ghouls? Oh he needs to run tests immediately!

Jiro - You aren't getting more than a slightly raised brow line. His shock isn't visible. Definitely says your life expectancy will go down the longer you hang around that guy. I don't think Jiro would like him much either. I mean the guy keeps eating their would be test subjects after all. Doesn't bring attention to the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Taiga - Was in a bad mood when you told him and it flipped the switch to happy Taiga instantly. Cackles and tells you you're a smart kitty. But... he's not surprised, he saw this coming after all. Who else could be your favorite?