#1.8K isn't that long either

[anawrites3]

kid from future tries to set up dickstroke pls

Okay so I messed up a little and wrote their kid as from alternative dimension instead of timetravel aaannd also it turned out kind of long? Because it has a bit over 1.8K words sooo I'm posting it on ao3 as well

If that's what you prefer you can find the ao3 version right here

And now for the story! Thank you for your ask, anon, I hope you'll like it!

The boy pushed his hands into his pockets, resting his back easily against the wall. He looked good in the three-piece-suit they managed to get for him last minute – the navy blue looking nicely with his blue-gray eyes and dark messy hair that curled slightly by his nape – and Dick couldn’t stop glancing at him.

That’s why Dick noticed the moment he eyed the waiter offering guests champagne. He glanced in Dick’s direction and when noticed him looking, quickly turned away with a blush.

“I can get you some apple juice if you’re thirsty, junior.” Dick grinned, nudging him with an elbow.

“I was just looking.” The boy insisted with an unhappy twist of his lips. “Besides, I’m seventeen, not five! I could have a few sips.”

“Suuure.” He drawled. “But you won’t.”

Jaden rolled his eyes, crossing arms across his chest. “Pops would let me.” He grumbled.

“Well, you can ask him when you see him.” Dick teased with a smile, making the boy frown even more, even as his eyes gleamed with amusement.

A week ago a portal to an alternate dimension opened up in Dick’s kitchen to spat out Jaden, a seventeen years old boy, who was Dick’s son in another world. Even after those seven days spent together, Dick couldn’t quite get used to the sight of him or even to the thought that somewhere there he managed to lead a life where he got a family. A real, happy family.

There was something ugly like jealousy burning in his chest whenever he thought about it too hard but… he was happy for the other him, he really was. Jaden was a great kid and he was clearly a Grayson, never able to sit still for too long and always more than ready to climb trees, walls and chandeliers.

They weren’t able to send Jaden back to his world right away – they had to wait for the right time for the portal to open again and Bruce’s calculation said that day was another week from now. So until then, Jaden lived with Dick.

And… Dick knew that Jaden wasn’t really his but he was his son, son of some version of him and he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. So right now, they were at Bruce's gala because Dick was forced to attend and Jaden wanted to go with him.

Suddenly the boy perked up and when Dick looked at him again, his lips were stretched in a smile and his blue-gray eyes gleamed as he stared at the crowd before them.

“Hey, da-aaaring.” He started, quickly trying to save up the slip with a wince.

Dick burst out laughing, not able to stop himself, “That’s even worse!” He cackled, making Jaden laugh as well.

He was okay with Jaden calling him dad – and if warmth spread over his chest every time it happened, it was no one’s business but his own – but they couldn’t really do that while in public. The press would eat him up – Dick Grayson in his early thirties, having a seventeen years old son?

Yeah, no, thanks.

When they finally calmed down, Jaden nudged him with his elbow, the same way Dick had done to him a moment earlier. “Alright, that was awful. Sorry.” He chuckled.

“I appreciate the effort.” Dick reached out to ruffle his hair with a grin and Jaden let him do it with an answering smile. “What was that?”

“I was going to say,” Jaden slipped his hands back into his pockets, voice a happy smug hum. “that that guy right there looks like he’d be a good dance partner for you.”

“Oh come on. You’re the best dance partner I could ask for.” Dick teased but he turned to look at the man Jaden was pointing to. “Which one do you-”

Deathstroke.

Slade Wilson was standing on the other side of the ballroom, dressed in a dark suit that hugged his muscled arms. His hair was pulled into a neat ponytail against his nape and he was busy talking to one of the ladies but Dick had no doubt the man was well aware of Dick’s presence not far away.

Dick was able to feel his heart in his throat. Slade being here meant trouble, more often than not it meant death or at least an attempt at it and Dick couldn’t let Jaden get dragged into this. Yes, Jade knew about him being Nightwing – both in this and his own world – but it wasn’t the same, Slade was… Dick couldn’t let him get close to Jaden.

But then Jaden nudged him again, saying, “The one over there, with white hair and eyepatch.”

Dick wheezed, “You can’t be-”

“I’m gonna go say hello.” He smiled and before Dick could blink, the boy was already weaving through the sea of guests and towards fucking Deathstroke the Terminator.

“Jaden, wait-!” He tried calling but Jaden just waved him off and in a next second he disappeared behind some man, his little body slipping through the crowd with no problem.

What was between Dick and Slade was… complicated, to say the least. Slade didn’t try to kill him anymore and they were somewhat of friends but... some time ago Slade had a contract in Bludhaven. Somewhere during the fight Dick got pinned to the ground on one of the Blud’s rooftops, Slade leaning over him with a sneer of his lips and. They kissed.

And maybe it would be fine, if it was just a kiss. But it grew heated very quickly and Dick would let Slade fuck him right then and there if Jason didn’t chime in his comms to say he got the alert for Dick’s vitals going crazy and he was on his way to his location.

Then, the next time Dick saw Slade was in New York, when Dick managed to ruin his contract. Not delay the inevitable but actually, completely ruin the contract.

The one Slade would get paid over a million dollars for.

Dick rushed forward, doing his best not to look too terrified nor bring any unnecessary attention to himself but people were in his way, blocking him and making him waste precious seconds and by the time he pushed his way through, Jaden was already a few steps away from Slade.

Slade noticed Jaden coming his way, of course, and said something to the lady who nodded with a smile and walked away. Dick tried to get to the boy before Jaden got to Slade but he couldn’t just run through the ballroom like crazy so he was forced to just look as Jaden stopped right before Slade and smiled up at him.

“Hey there, old man.” He basically beamed at the mercenary.

Slade cocked an eyebrow that but his lips curled into a smirk. “Hello.” He said pleasantly. “Can I help you?”

After ruining Slade’s contract in New York, Dick had three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, so many cuts across his body that required stitches that Dick wasn’t able to count them all and bruises in shapes of hands wrapped around his throat that took weeks to fully heal.

“You can, actually!” Jaden laced his fingers behind his back, leaning a bit closer to Slade with that happy smile. “I was wondering if you’d let me have some of the champagne.”

Slade barked out a laugh at that, visibly not expecting something like this. His shoulders shook as he laughed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling just slightly and Jaden’s smile widened even more as he watched it happen.

He looked over his shoulder at Dick to show him a thumb-up with excited open-mouthed smile and shining eyes and Dick was going to ground him for so long-

“Of course.” Slade grinned. “Wayne always serves the best liquor, it would be a shame if you didn’t at least try it.”

He glanced in Dick’s direction for an exact second but it was enough for Dick to notice and then he grabbed two flute’s from the waiter passing them. Slade handed the champagne to Jaden, who took the first sip just as Dick stopped by their side.

“Slade.” Dick greeted, throat clenched as if there was an invisible hand wrapped around it.

“Grayson.” Slade raised his flute in mock cheers. He looked Dick over slowly, his gaze a physical weight on his body as if he tried to see right through the material. Jaden turned his head away, taking another sip of champagne with a hum. “You look good, little bird.”

Dick was grateful he wasn’t holding a glass himself because otherwise it would surely shatter in his grip.

“I know.” He forced the words through his lips, making the corners of Slade’s lips twitch up. “Jay-”

“You can’t say I’m in trouble.” Jaden said quickly, pointing his finger at Dick. “You said I can ask him, I did, he let me have some champagne. I just did what you told me to.”

Dick blinked. What-

“No. No, I said to ask your-” …father. They were joking about Jaden asking his other dad if he could get a drink and then he suddenly rushed over to Slade as if he didn’t know who Deathstroke the Terminator… was…

It was like all the air got punched out of Dick’s lungs.

Because Deathstroke the fucking Terminator was Jaden’s second father.

“You can’t be serious.” He breathed out. “He’s-”

“Yep!” Jaden grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Now, I think you two should dance. What do you say, old man?” He asked, glancing at Slade.

Slade shook his head with a laugh huffed out through his nose. There was no way he knew what the whole thing was about but he didn’t look like he particularly minded it right now. He reached to ruffle Jaden’s hair who beamed at him again, “I say I like you, kid. Jay, was it?”

“Jaden Wil- Jaden.” He coughed. “Just Jaden, really.”

Slade hummed, watching him carefully for a few seconds. “Sure.”

Blush covered Jaden’s cheeks and he scratched nervously under his nose but the smile on his lips didn’t flatten even for a second.

“Now go dance!” The boy waved them off. “Go have some fun!”

Dick found himself glancing at Slade. He didn’t look angry, mostly amused and when his gaze found Dick’s he simply offered him his hand with a curl of his lips that Dick would almost call fond.

“Shall we, then?” He asked, voice almost a purr.

Jaden was smiling at him, smug and proud of himself and Dick- Dick was going to kick his ass later.

He was probably going to regret it. There was no way Slade just forgot how Dick cost him half a million dollars and even if he wasn’t angry right now, he would still make sure that Dick pays for ruining his contract. If not now then later and no doubt taking pleasure in keeping him on his toes the whole time.

But now… now Slade looked almost gentle. Under the ballroom’s light, dressed in the three-piece-suit he almost seemed like a normal human and not a super-soldier mercenary.

Before he could think better of it, he took a deep breath and placed his hand in Slade’s.

“Alright.”

[l0v3tast3]

Konig with a reader who has a hard time fingering herself :( either her position isn't good, she's always too tight or she's nervous, or a combo of all (obvi she's virgin too). So Konig helps her out. If you could include some age gap and praise kink too <3

this is such a good request anon the daddy issues. they are absolutely issuing rn but it's good for the writing lmao thank u for the request !!! <3

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, virgin!reader, no penetrative s3x, age gap (r is 20's, könig is mid-40's), fluff, softdom!könig, praise kink, size kink, size difference, abuse of pet names, dirty talk,

✎ word count: 1.8k words (not proofread)

✎ translations: "hase" = bunny , "mein kleiner hase" = my little bunny "mein schatz" = my darling/sweetheart "mein herz" = my heart , "liebling" = darling

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° könig, who is usually pretty good at hiding his emotions when need be, has a look of pure shock when you meekly ask your request of him. you're instantly apologizing when you dare a look up at him, trying to back away from his hold where he has you on his lap. you'd been making out (könig felt like he was transported back to a much better version of high school) slow and passionate; he was more than willing to be patient for as long as you wanted. just holding your little body against him, having you in his lap, seeing your face light up whenever he comes into your view is more than enough.

✧ ˖ ° as you lightly squirm he collects you back against him, yelling at himself internally while he tries to rectify your panic. "hase, come here, of course i will help you," he whispers. könig runs his hands over your back, rubbing your sides and up to your shoulders and neck, coming to a stop to cup your face. "of course i will. mein schatz, i would do anything to make you feel good. such a good girl, asking me so nicely for help." you stop moving finally, looking up at him as if you were surprised he actually agreed. as if you were surprised that he actually wants to do this (like he hadn't wanted to do this and so much more ever since he first saw you).

✧ ˖ ° he picks you up and you yelp, distracted by your surprise of seeing what everything looks like from your boyfriend's height. soon enough he's placing you down on his bed, sitting behind you and helping you to lean your back against his chest and between his legs. könig can feel how nervous you are. it's why he calls you his little bunny, because you're so skittish at the slightest touch, so reactive to anything he does or even says, and he adores it.

✧ ˖ ° so he takes it slow. he prefers it that way, being able to take the time to remind himself not to overwhelm you too much and mapping every inch of new skin you let him feel. könig bends down to kiss you again while he runs his hands as softly as he knows how to down your arms and over your stomach and sides, slowly pushing up the hem of your shirt.

✧ ˖ ° "mein kleiner hase," he separates from your lips but doesn't go far, trailing down your cheek and jaw to your neck. "you always look so sweet here in my arms, so precious. you'll let me help you, won't you, liebling?" könig whispers, his hands slowly undoing the buttons and zipper of your jeans. he can feel your nervousness, the grip on his forearms tightening bit by bit the closer he got to your core, so he waits to help you take off your pants until you nod and mumble out a little "please, könig," in an adorably meek voice.

✧ ˖ ° he rubs his huge hands over your thighs and hips and stomach telling you that you need to ease into it, go slow and build the anticipation. you're already on the verge of panting, your breath catching whenever his fingertips graze underneath the edges of the cute underwear you wore just for him. again könig asks if he can take them off, and when you squeak out an "mhm" he presses a kiss to your cheek and more to your shoulder while he leans over to drag your underwear down your legs.

✧ ˖ ° könig already has the sensitive parts of most of your body memorized; where you're ticklish, where you don't want him to touch, and where he gets the cutest reactions out of you from. so he utilizes this (very valuable) information to help you relax. he can feel how tense your back is, how your little hands try to wrap around his forearms. he can see you fighting not to clamp your thighs shut altogether. and of course he doesn't want to overwhelm you, so he'll stay away from where your legs meet while he swallows the spit he wants to cover your cunt with. your shirt is edged up and your bra is carefully undone, any newly uncovered skin traced over with his calloused hands.

✧ ˖ ° it's not long before he has you melting against him, breath coming quick and thighs creeping open centimeter by centimeter. as he murmurs praises of how sweet and pretty you are for him, his fingers creep nearer to the tops of your thighs and further down. könig is certain that you're already soaked. he knows he can go on and start doing what you asked of him- but the way your body responds to him, the gasps he has to strain to hear, it's too much not to savor.

✧ ˖ ° your hips start bucking up nearly on their own and you mewl out another "please- könig, need your help". as soon as you tilt your head back to look up at him with glazed, pleading eyes, he's lifting your thighs over his own and locking them apart with his legs. before you can look away his hand is gently holding your chin to keep eye contact, his other hand getting closer achingly slowly to where you want him. "you are so beautiful, mein schatz," he breathes, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your cheek. "how did i get so lucky to be able to call you mine, hmm?"

✧ ˖ ° with hungry, lidded eyes könig watches how your back arches just as his middle finger brushes over your clit. your eyes grow wider as his finger dips lower to feel just how wet you are, his chest rising and falling heavier now. "it doesn't feel good when you do this yourself?" the question nearly goes unanswered when he rubs slow circles into the tiny bundle of nerves, your breath stuttering in your chest. you manage to shake your head a little bit, still being held by him. "so sensitive, just for me then. scheiße, what am i going to do with you, hase? how could i handle such a sweet little girl?"

✧ ˖ ° you whine when he stops paying attention to your clit, but it's cut off when he's bringing up his hand and pushing his middle and index finger past your swollen lips. könig can feel how his cock throbs in his pants as you coat them with your spit, a trail linking from your mouth once he pulls his hand away and goes back down; the image of you on your knees for him is so much more vivid now.

✧ ˖ ° könig makes damn sure he memorizes every movement of every muscle, every noise and expression you make as he pushes his middle finger into your impossibly tight pussy. he nearly moans with you as he sinks it in further. the first thought that comes to mind is that he has no idea how he's going to fit his dick inside of you without hurting you, but his second thought is that he's determined to figure it out. you, on the other hand, can already feel a fog settling over your brain, your thoughts focusing on the new feeling of pleasure and trying your best to keep eye contact with him still. it's just so hard when you can feel your face burning, see his dark eyes taking in everything you give him, but his feather-light grip on your jaw doesn't budge.

✧ ˖ ° of course he'll talk you through it all, pressing kisses across your face and shoulders every so often. "you are doing so well for me, mein herz, so gorgeous like this. does it feel good, liebling? you already look so messy and i've hardly done anything to you- ha, i wish i could keep you like this, such a pretty girl." könig can feel how much you tighten up even more around his digit with every praise and he watches you try to grind down to get him deeper as he pumps it in and out. "you want more, hm? do you think you can handle another finger? your pussy is so tiny, it's a wonder even one can fit," he murmurs, turning your head and leaning down to graze his lips against yours.

✧ ˖ ° when you manage another nod of your head könig meets his lips with yours, swallowing your pitched moan as he adds another finger to stretch you further. your gentle giant was right: you're a mess already. nails digging into his defined arms and leaving puffy red lines, body squirming as an unfamiliar, overbearing heat builds in your stomach. it spreads to your thighs and up into your chest, your arms and your head, becoming so hot that it's nearly overwhelming. you separate from his lips with a gasp, one dainty hand coming up to desperately grab at the hair on the back of his neck. könig takes in the dew drops pricking at your waterline, how your back arches and you grab at him for some kind of purchase.

✧ ˖ ° the hand still under your jaw rubs your cheek reassuringly before it's snaking down to join the other and he starts pressing kisses into your neck again, whispering more sweet words in your ear. "you take my fingers so prettily, mein kleiner hase, are you going to cum? it's okay, i'll take care of you. cum for me mein schatz."

✧ ˖ ° könig's free hand runs down your soft stomach until his fingertips reach your clit, once again rubbing in circles while he curls the two digits dragging in and out of you. it only takes a moment for your wail to turn into sharp gasps, your trembling body going taught as all the tension he'd built inside you snapped, pleasure you've never felt before flooding through your body. könig watches you shake in his hold; he's sure it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen, the best thing he's ever felt. he feels blessed to be able to make you cum like this. the pre-cum gradually leaving a stain on his pants isn't even on his mind while he works you through your orgasm.

✧ ˖ ° he'll stop once your hips start twitching and little whines escape under heavy breath, ghosting his hands over your body to slowly bring your thighs back over his legs and massage out any soreness in the muscles. "you did so wonderful, mein herz, what a good girl i have," he'll murmur between sweet kisses. "i am so proud of you for asking for my help, you'll always ask for my help from now on, won't you, hase?"

[little-diable]

Hold me close - Prof!Carlisle Cullen (smut)

I know this isn't what you requested @emberfrostlovesloki – but I hope you still enjoy it! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Let's be honest, this is pure pwp, prof!Carlisle worries about the reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, prof x student, reader is legal ofc, age gap

Pairing: Prof!Carlisle x fem!student!reader (1.8k words)

The room was filled with students, a buzzing atmosphere that trapped them, forcing anticipation to flush through their systems. Every Thursday morning they found themselves in this room, eyes glued to the professor most of them fawned over, begging for a few seconds of his attention. 

Professor Cullen had joined the university a few semesters ago, instantly becoming the students favourite professor. He had something to him that drew the students to him, lured closer by the man with golden eyes and frame so tall, they wondered how it must feel to have him towering over them. And trapped in the middle of it all was (y/n), one of the few students the professor called by her first name.

She couldn’t remember how it had all started, longing glances, inside jokes, cold touches. Nothing inappropriate had ever happened between them, Carlisle Cullen wasn’t one to cross lines that could end his career and ruin her future. And yet there was something between them that was anything but professional, an ongoing back and forth neither of them wanted to put an end to. 

“(Y/n)?” His voice cut through the sounds the crowd of students produced as they left the class, already excited for next week. Their eyes met, drawn to one another like moths to flames, silently communicating. He watched her move closer, trembling feet struggling to support her frame, hand darting out to grasp the edge of the table he was leaning against. “Are you alright?”

Concern dripped from the professor’s voice, worried eyes wandering over her features, trying to stop his hand from reaching out to touch her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, trying to find her voice, but the room began to close in on her, unable to speak up as her vision grew blurry, head pounding. 

“Come, let’s get you somewhere quieter.” This time he didn’t manage to stop himself from touching her, hand placed on the small of her back as he guided (y/n) out of the room. Neither of them spared the curious eyes of the other students any of their attention, while Carlisle found himself worrying about (y/n), her mind slowly grew clearer once again, hyperfocusing on his touch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water, please.” A hum left the professor as (y/n) sank down on the comfortable couch placed in Professor Cullen’s office, the room she had been in numerous times before. He moved quickly, placing the glass of water down for her before he sat down next to (y/n), eyes not leaving her features once. “I think I simply forgot to drink enough, I’ll be fine.”

“Mhm, you need to take better care of yourself, love.” The word left his lips before his mind could pick up on the things his mouth was doing, hearing her heartbeat picking up its beat. Even though he’d never admit it out loud, Carlisle loved the way her body was reacting to the things he said, the things he did, wondering how it must feel to have her pressed against him, fully focusing on every little reaction. “I can’t have my best student passing out, can I?”

“Your best? I doubt that.” (Y/n) didn’t dare meet his eyes, breath stuck in her chest as his hand found her chin, forcing her to look at him. For a few seconds neither of them spoke, while her blood began to sing in her ears, his eyes flickered down to her lips, allowing him to focus on the thoughts he had tried to drown out ever since meeting her. She felt his thumb on her trembling lower lip, carefully stroking the soft skin as a gasp left her, unable to stop the sound from leaving her. 

Before either one of them could move, the sound of his alarm going off ripped them apart. Carlisle rose to his feet with a sigh, reaching for his phone to silence it once again. “I’ll have to leave now for my shift at the hospital. Do me a favour and text me tonight, just a small update on how you are feeling.” 

……

Ever since (y/n) had left Professor Cullen’s office, she had wondered if their moments together had truly played out like that or if her confused mind was playing a trick on her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but be grateful for it, clinging to the memories playing in her mind over and over again. 

She wondered how long she should wait to text him, but ever since 8pm had rolled around, she had been sitting on her bed, eyes focused on her phone. Again and again she tried to type out her message to her professor, wondering what and how she should update him. Her fingers trembled at the mere thought of her professor, mind filled with sinful images she found herself longing for whenever she got time to think. 

Before she could send her text the professor had taken it upon himself to reach out, a simple “How are you doing, (y/n)? Do you need something?”. Heat rose in her body at the sweet message, biting her lip to stop her smile from growing even wider. With her heart pounding in her chest she typed her reply, fuelled by her curiosity and excitement. 

“I am alright, still a bit shaky, but no longer close to passing out. How was your shift?” Her phone was tossed away from her the second she had sent the text, insides churning in excitement, silently praying to whoever was listening that he’d fuel a conversation. 

It didn’t take him long to get back, but not in the form of another text, forcing (y/n) to reach for her buzzing phone as he called her. A deep exhale of warm air left her before she picked up the call, murmuring a soft “Hello?”.

“I don’t like that you’re still feeling unwell, if it’s alright with you I’d like to check on you.” She was glad that the professor couldn’t see her, pupils growing wide as her lips formed another grin. 

“I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do, I’m okay, promise.” (Y/n) could imagine him staring down on her, shaking his head with a displeased sigh leaving him, not trusting the young woman. 

“Nonsense, text me your address, I’ll be there in a few.” 

……

If somebody would have told her back then that within the next hour she’d end up in his lap, arms wrapped around his cold neck, lips locked with his, she probably would have broken out in laughter, doubting that he’d ever give into their game. And yet, here she found herself, straddling the man’s lap, fingers tangled in his golden hair. 

Carlisle’s cold hands moved up and down her back, leaving sparks to shoot down her spine. She kept on trembling, though no longer because of her exhausted body, but because of the things the man made her feel. He kissed her as if he was in search of her soul, chaining her to him with a few simple touches that left her burning from inside out. 

“You can always tell me to stop, love.” She couldn’t help but swoon at the care dripping from his words, holding her close with warm eyes getting lost in hers. (Y/n) cupped his cold cheek, pressing another kiss against his lips before a quiet “Don’t ever stop, please” left her.  

For a few seconds he stared at her before he flipped her onto her back, pressed against her couch with her legs wrapped around his waist. Her gasps left him smirking in pride, lips kissing their way down her throat, allowing her shaking fingers to unbutton the black dress shirt he was wearing. Both were fueled by their desire, unable to ponder on the question whether what they were doing was right or wrong, needing to feel one another. 

“My pretty girl, such a pretty sight. I want to take my time with you, but I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle.” The words left her moaning, eyes threatening to roll back into her head as her teeth left marks on her lower lip.

“Don’t be gentle, mark me up, please. Fuck me, professor.” (Y/n) whimpered the words, coaxing a deep grown from the man as he rose from his position. Without breaking eye contact both got rid of their clothes, bare bodies searching for one another’s closeness. Their lips met once again as he sneaked a hand between their bodies, making moans claw through (y/n). His cold fingers felt all too good against her pulsing bundle, the perfect sensation to push her closer and closer to the edge, once again begging him to fuck her. 

Carlisle was rough with her, forcing his cock into her tightness without another warning, but she was aching for him, desperate for him, ready to give him whatever he wanted from her. The tall man didn’t hold back as he fucked her on her couch, forcing her further into the fabric with his eyes growing darker and darker.

“Jesus, you feel so good, fuck.” (Y/n) kept praising the man, eyes squeezed shut, desperate to focus on the feeling that felt so unfamiliar she wondered if she had ever been touched before. Carlisle chased her lips, hungrily kissing the moaning woman as he fucked her even faster, leaving marks that would turn into bruises the next few days. Marks she’d forever cherish, smiling at the memories she clung to. 

Curses left the two as she clenched around him, unable to stop herself from cumming with his name leaving her, nails scratching at his skin. It took him a few more moments to let go, holding onto her with his dark eyes taking in every inch of her body. The groan leaving Carlisle as he came made (y/n) shudder, studying him with awe laced in her gaze.

“Fuck, that was-” she struggled to find any words as he gave into a laugh rumbling through him, kissing (y/n) once again before he pulled out of her. 

“It was. We can’t go back now, I hope you know that.” (Y/n) pulled him down once again, mumbling a “As if I’d ever want to go back” against his lips. 

[kwanisms]

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ bf!Chris × fem!Reader (× implied Minho) wc: 1.8k summary: Your boyfriend really doesn't like it when his friends pay a little more attention to you nor does he like it when you playfully flirt with them. genres/themes/au: smut; bar themes, established relationship; idol au, boyfriend!Chris warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, mc flirts with someone other than their partner (Chris), bar setting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special tags: @yoonguurt @sanjoongie @millennial-fangirl MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i will be completely honest, I forgot I even wrote this. It's been in my docs for almost a year 💀 but here it is! Thank you for reading! If you like this, please reblog and leave feedback and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), mild dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering (f receiving), mild degradation (f receiving), implied threesome. I think that's it lol

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[01:08] — isn't this what you wanted?

It was just a bit of harmless flirting. Something you’d done a few times before. It was just your nature to flirt when you drank and Chris knew that. He had never let it bother him before so why was it any different now.

Maybe it was the way he saw Minho’s eyes roam over your scantily clad body. Maybe it was the way you lightly laid your hand on his bicep when speaking to him. He didn’t like the way Minho teasingly flexed his arm, letting you feel the muscles he’d spent so much time working on in the gym.

He didn’t like how close the two of you were standing. He didn’t like the way his friend’s eyes lingered a little too long on your ass when you turned to speak to Han. Maybe that was the final straw. The push he needed to close the gap and grab you by the elbow, leading you away from his friends and into the empty bar bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Chris,” you chastised him, trying to step around him and return to the bar. He wasn’t having any of it as he pushed you against the wall, arms caging you in as he placed his palms flat against the tile walls on either side of your head.

You’d only ever seen this side of him once before. The time you were over at the dorms for a movie night and as a joke, Seungmin grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto his lap as you bickered with Felix about making space for you on the couch. The guys hadn’t known back then that the two of you were a thing but Chris had made it abundantly clear later that night as he was pounding you into the mattress in his room, pinning your wrists above your head to keep you from muffling your moans.

Since then, no one had attempted to make a move or flirted with you. Until tonight anyway.

Chris thought of himself as not being the jealous type but the moment he had seen you perched on Seungmin’s lap, laughing along with the guys, the green monster reared its ugly head and he wanted the world to know you were his. He could handle random guys flirting with you because he knew they’d probably never see you again. But his own members? You saw them all the time.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” He asked, his tone low and full of what you discerned was lust. Even though you didn’t like his being jealous, you had to admit it was probably the best rough sex you’d had with him. Normally he was so sweet and careful with you, only going hard when you asked.

That night, he was completely in control and had his way with you and there was no shame in admitting you liked the contrast between the two personas.

“I thought you liked the attention,” he continued, his voice dripping with a mixture of desire and sarcasm. You felt your knees become weak as he gazed at you, his eyes darker than before. You’d really done it now and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I-I…” you stammered but faltered when a crooked smile spread across your boyfriend’s lips.

“You what?” He asked, pressing his body closer to yours, heat from him radiating into you.

“You thought you’d flirt with one of my friends right in front of me, dressed like that?” He asked, nodding down at your choice of attire.

It was a black dress, one you’d worn before and picked with the sole purpose of dressing up for Chris. You only ever dressed like this for him because you only wanted his eyes on you.

“It wasn’t like—“ you murmured but stopped when Chris brought one of his hands up, pressing a finger to your lips. “Wasn’t like that, baby?” He asked. “You thought you’d dress up a little and not expect to be the center of attention? That wasn’t your intent at all?” He asked, moving his finger to caress your cheek, a huge contrast from the way he spoke to you.

You leaned into his touch, lips parting as you let out a sigh. You felt the pad of his thumb brush over your bottom lip before he slipped his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. The sweet gesture turned lewd as he watched the way your lips wrapped around the digit.

His own lips parted as you sucked, tongue swirling around the tip of his thumb the way it did when he had his cock in your mouth. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” he groaned, hips rolling forward to press his erection against you. “Fuck, Chris,” you moaned, his thumb still in your mouth.

“You sound so pretty when you say my name like that,” he mumbled, pulling his hand from your face and reaching down to lift the hem of your tight skirt. “Chris,” you moaned as his fingers pressed into your panties, your arousal pooling in them. “We can’t do this here,” you whimpered as he pulled aside your panties, pressing his fingers past your folds, finding your clit easily.

“The door is locked, baby,” he said, leaning in to tease your neck with his teeth. “Besides,” he added, whispering in your ear. “Who are you expecting to come in here? Minho?” He growled. “N-no,” you whined as he worked the pads of his fingers against your clit in slow circles, dragging them down to your entrance only to pull away, teasing you.

“Chris,” you managed to whine but fell silent as he lowered himself to his knees, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Keeping your panties pushed to the side, he leaned in, tongue tasting you as he toyed with your clit. Your hands moved, tangling in his dark locks, tugging gently.

Oral with Chris was never quick or to the point. He loved to tease and take his time, coaxing you to your orgasm. This time was different, he’d never managed to have you squirming and moaning in mere minutes, tongue flicking against your clit, sucking on it. “Ah, shit,” you cursed, chest heaving as your boyfriend ate you out like a mad man.

He shifted, managing to throw your other thigh over his shoulder but keeping you propped up against the wall as he dove back in, tongue lapping at your entrance. You glanced down, moaning at the sight of your boyfriend’s face buried between your thighs. His eyes were shut, no doubt enjoying the sounds you made and the taste, hands gripping your ass tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt your climax rapidly approaching. “Fuck,” you hissed. “I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. “Do it,” Chris answered. “Come all over my tongue, babygirl,” he added before continuing his assault on your core.

Your hands in his hair tightened, fingers gripping his tresses harder as your hips moved of their own accord, bucking in his face as your toes curled. You came with a whimper of his name and moaned as he licked up every bit of your release. You tried to shy away from his tongue but his grip on you held you in place. “Chris,” you pleaded, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach tighten. “I can’t please,” you whimpered, feeling tears form. “It’s too much.”

Chris chuckled, the vibrations against your soaked core causing you to tremble.

You looked down when you felt him move his mouth away and the sight had your walls clenching around nothing. The cocky grin partnered with his lips glistening with your slick. It was all you could do to not push him onto the floor and hop on his cock right then and there.

He let you down, holding you steady as your legs shook. You managed to stumble over to look into the mirror, turning on the water to wet your hot flushed face.

Chris had gotten to his feet and pulled his phone out but what he was doing you couldn’t tell.

You noticed him moved behind you in the mirror and gasped as he pulled your skirt up, exposing your ass. “Chris!” You hissed trying to turn but he forced you to face the mirror. “Don’t move,” he ordered, grabbing your panties and pulling them down your thighs, letting them fall to your feet as he brought his hand to his lips, wetting two of his fingers before it disappeared behind you and you let out a moan as you felt his fingers enter you from behind.

He’d just eaten you out in a public bathroom and now he wanted to finger you? This was crossing so many lines but why was it so hot?

“Chris,” you warned, head dropping as his fingers moved in and out of you at a steady pace. “You like that,” he asked, his free hand moving to wrap around your throat. “You like being touched in a public bathroom?” You moaned as he curled his fingers against your walls, your knees threatening to give out.

“This is so wrong,” you whined, head falling back as you felt Chris’ lips ghost over the exposed skin of your shoulders. “Would you rather Minho be in here making you feel this good?” He growled, fingers moving faster. “That’s not what I—“ you tried to explain but fell silent. “Have you ever thought about the others when I’m touching you?” He asked. ‘What the hell?’

“What?” You gasped. “No!” You felt him smirk against your skin. He was teasing you. Teasing and torturing you for drunkenly flirting with his friend. “Have you thought about them when touching yourself?” He whispered, curling his fingers again. You let out a deep moan, causing him to chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Thinking about other men when you touch yourself?” He asked. You wanted to tell him it was ridiculous, that you only ever thought about him but that wasn’t entirely true. You had thought about Minho like that before. Of course, it was before you and Chris had even started seeing one another. You were single then and free to think about what you like.

“It does, doesn’t it?” He asked again. “No,” you answered weakly. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

“You’ve already told me your fantasies, baby girl,” he added. ‘Shit,’ you thought. He was right.

You had mistakenly admitted you liked the idea of double penetration. Chris found the confession intriguing. “Have you imagined yourself, full of two cocks?” He asked again,

When you were done you heard a tap on the locked door. “Shit,” you cursed, pulling your skirt down. “We gotta get out of here,” you hissed. Chris unlocked the door and smiled at you.

“We aren’t done yet, kitten,” he said, pulling open the door and your eyes widened as Minho stepped into the bathroom. “What are you doing?” You asked Chris as he shut the door again and locked it.

“What wrong, kitten?” Chris asked, turning to face you. "After all,"

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.

[calibabii21]

|| sli(ck-p)up || l.jn

pairing: pervy bf!Jeno x gf!reader

genre: smut

warning(s): perv!jeno, sub!jeno, secret pic/videos taken, caught jerking off with reader's panties, sadist!reader, humiliation, edging, overstimulation, use of pet names "baby" and "pup/puppy"

wc: 1.8k

a/n: @jenosprincess requested pervert boyfriend!Jeno and it is officially September so I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone. let the shenanigans begin, hope you all enjoyyy~~~

also: (pre-established safe words, we use the standard green for "keep going" and yellow for "ease up" with "lighthouse" being "stop")

You noticed. It was small things. But you noticed. It isn't that he was acting particularly skittish, but he was even more primal acting. Like a feral pet.

It started with longer stares. I mean, he's your boyfriend, so, of course he's going to look- but no. He stares. Quite literally like you're a freshly butchered hunk of meat.

Next it was more aggressive touches. Fingers digging into your waist just to pass by you. Teeth sinking harsher into your lip when he kisses you. Very desperate. Very eager.

The oddest one, he began sniffing you. When he hugs you. When you walk by. The moment you most need a shower, right after you've worked out. That's when you noticed undergarments of yours going missing.

Little did you know, today would be the day the covers got pulled back.

Your day wrapped up early so you decided to head to your boyfriend's house. Just like you would any other weekend. It is when you approach his apartment that you feel that shit is about to hit the fan. Nevertheless, you enter his home with the spare key he gave you.

It's radio silence as you walk in. The television is off. No bustling action in the kitchen. Not even the blasting of the Naruto soundtrack. But you think nothing of it as you head toward his room. He's probably gaming with the guys.

"Ba-" but you're stopped short. There is nothing in the world that could prepare you for what you see. All the signs were there, but you brushed them off as his man period or something. Men go through things too. But this??

He couldn't see or hear you, but boy could you see and hear him. "F-Fuck M-Miss- please." You knew your boyfriend could be a little submissive sometimes, but never to the extent of begging and calling Mistress..or was it Miss? Either way, the scene before you was beyond your imagination.

Jeno in his gamer chair, a hand tightly wrapped around his cock and here's the kicker, your most recent loss; a baby blue lace thong, held up to his nose. And boy is he sniffing profusely. Not that you thought it could get any worse, but it did.

On his screen- his gaming pc screen, was you, fresh out of the shower, and naked. You didn't seem to be anything special, but baby boy was lapping it up. In the video you'd had on the same baby blue thong, he now had in his mouth as if to taste you, and were lathering your body in baby oil.

It seems to be getting near the climax seeing as, once it got to the part where you were spreading and rubbing it all over your bare breasts, you notice the video had been slowed down and zoomed in- still in 4k quality by the way. He edited it too?? This was all too crazy and had carried on for too long.

"Having fun?" His body instantly jerked and froze. He's still as you walk to him and turn his chair to face you. Eyes watering and face red with embarrassment as you've caught him in such a vulnerable position. Though he's scared for being caught, and your dominant aura has caused him to cower, it's clear he is enjoying the feeling.

His hard on is still raging and if anything, it seems even angrier. His breathing is deep, but shaky; and he has the nerve to still hold your panties in his mouth. You snatch them out, drawing a whimper from him and toss them aside.

"So this is what you do when I'm not around?" He looks down at his lap then closes his eyes, too ashamed to see how aroused he is by the situation. "This why you've been acting so fucking desperate lately?" His whine when you grip his face and make him look you in the eyes is indeed, desperate.

His eyes sneak a glance at the computer and your eyes follow his line of sight seeing the video is still playing, this time the frame zoomed onto your ass as you're bent over. You narrow your eyes as you bring them to meet his again and he tries to shrink into himself.

"You that horny to where you can't even focus on me right in front of you? Is it because I'm fully clothed?" He looks at you with wide eyes and shakes his head in denial. "No? You like it when you're exposed and I'm all covered up?" the words are spoken softly into his ear before you lay a faint lick on his earlobe and lightly tug on it with your teeth.

"You're not the only one that can bite." You'd be lying if you said the shudder that coursed through him didn't thrill you. You hadn't paid attention before, but you actually have quite the dominant streak. Then an idea pops into your head and you let him go before moving to his desktop and turning on the webcam.

"W-What are you-" but you show him no mercy, "I'd threaten to gag you with something but you would like that wouldn't you?" He lets out a series of whimpers as you get on your knees in front of him, "look at you. still brick hard even with the camera on you. Who knew you were such a perverted little pup."

His cock bobs as throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. "Oh look at thaaat. You like that don't you?" You coo at him, lightly tracing one of his more prominent veins and trailing your left hand up his torso to his right nipple and flicking it with his thumb. "P-Please Y/N," you shake your head tsking at him, "That's not what you called me earlier is it?"

He doesn't respond, only continues mewling and squirming in his seat. When you allow your flattened palm to fall sharply on his thigh, you notice a new wave of precum starting to bead at his tip. "Oh you really are a pervert aren't you. I expected this from someone like Haechan, but never my sweet puppy, Jeno."

You notice the split second his breath hitches once Haechan's name is mentioned before it speeds up at the pet name. "Oh? I see. I might have to punish him too." Your hand ghosts over his length before firmly gripping it, earning a sigh of relief paired with a string of pleading moans.

"Maybe I'll restrain the both of you and play this video back. Would you like that?" He only murmurs and looks at you with eyes begging for torturous mercy. Your hand grips his slicked cock tighter, your wrist now twisting in a gyratory stroke, "want to watch me edge you with one of your best friends? A little fleshpump constantly milking you both?"

You speed up your hand and slacken your grip, "What do you think?" His head lolls back, brain fucked out and on autopilot, "Y-Yes Miss." "Divine." He sits up straight with heavy breaths, looking at you slightly cross-eyed and dazed as you bring him closer to the edge, "huh?" You can't help but chuckle at his cuteness as he tries to think through the oncoming orgasm.

At the last second you snatch your hand away, relishing in his pleading and fresh tears falling, but his self instructed obedience to keep his hands gripping the arms of the chair, where you've only just noticed they've been this entire time. "Divine. That is what you will refer to me as."

His eyes sparkle when your hand reconnects with his now painful erection, and he nods. "Since you've been such a good boy enduring this, I will reward you." He immediately perks up at that and nods eagerly. "I want you to give me two."

You see his eyes reflect a flicker of uncertainty so you soften your own and ask, "What color does the puppy give?" to which he perks up and smiles through a hooded gaze, "Green, Miss- Divine. Please, green." His smile is returned and you plant a soft wet kiss on the inside of his thigh, "Give me two."

Immediately he's thrown back into pleasure as your hand resumes its slow, spiral-like strokes. Just his sounds alone have you internally squirming yourself. "Baby you're twitching so much, are you close?" He bites his lip with furrowed brows and nods, "Okay puppy, cum for me."

It's when he feels your tongue on his balls that he looks back down at you and lets out a drawn out moan. "fffuuuuuuck Miss Divine- oh shit you make me feel so good." You moan against his balls before grazing your teeth along them, "What do you say?"

Tears roll down his cheeks from the overstimulation as he tries to catch his breath, "Th-Th-Thank you Miss Divine." You smile and reward him by now stroking him at a fast pace. "Come on puppy, you owe me one more. Be a good puppy for Miss Divine." Okay even you are beginning to cringe at the name, but watching him fall apart like this for you? For Miss Divine- it by far outranks the cringe.

"You're almost there baby, you can do it." His breathing is so quick you fear he may start hyperventilating, "M-May I please cum? Can I please?" And you, of course, grant him instant permission "Ooooh, look at the good puppy making a mess all over yourself." You'd continue to play with him, but his whimpers now sound hoarse and that softens your heart entirely.

You stand back to full height and cradle his face, bringing it closer to your own, "You did so good, and I'm so so proud of you for being a strong pup." His eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to his forehead then flutter back open when you pull back, "I'm gonna go get the water ready for a shower. Will you be able to stand for that?"

He cutely nods back and gives your lips a gentle kiss, "I love you." Your heart still skips a beat when you hear those words, "I love you too baby." You grin and give him another kiss before going to the adjoined bathroom to set the shower to the perfect temperature.

"Ah shit!" you hear what sounds like scrambling, then typing and head out to the room to see Jeno shutting down his computer. "What happened? Are you okay?" He first sighs deeply, as if to gather his thoughts, "Haechan just texted me.." You hold your breath knowing you weren't going to like what comes out of his mouth next.

"He said..you know everything we just did? well..apparently we were on a live stream chat with him..." You gasp loudly and cover your mouth "..Was that all he said?" He grimaces and shakes his head, "He said he's on his way."

[glorious-spoon]

a miserable pile of secrets [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz & Hen Wilson | 1/1]

1.8K words | friendship | emotional hurt/comfort | implied/referenced cheating

a miserable pile of secrets [on AO3]

She finds Eddie up on the rooftop, which makes sense, given that Buck is currently working out his feelings on the heavy bag after Bobby finally snapped at the two of them to get their acts together unless they wanted to be benched. Chim's down in the weight room with him, which means that Hen is up here in the warm night air to talk some sense into the other half of their codependent little unit, who is currently perched on one of the folding chairs that they usually leave up here. He's as still as a statue, tense like he's afraid of what his body might do if he lets it move.

"Hey," Hen says, and he gives a jerky little nod of acknowledgement. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." She pulls out one of the other chairs and sits down. "So."

"Bobby sent you."

"I sent myself," she corrects mildly, and watches Eddie's shoulders hunch a little. "I don't think I've ever seen you and Buck fight like that."

Though the truth is, she really only caught the tail end of it. Buck's frustrated voice rising on, "Do you hear yourself? How did you think this was going to work out? Have you even thought about Chris? What, you were just going to introduce him to her like—"

"Chris? Since when is how I parent my son any of your business?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you kind of made it my business when you put me in your fucking will!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that was a mistake!"

There was ringing silence in the wake of that. Then Buck said something quieter, inaudible from where Hen and Chim were standing frozen outside the locker room door, and Eddie spat, "Go to hell. I'm done talking about this."

The door slammed open and he stormed out, only pausing for a moment when he saw the two of them standing there. It wasn't until he'd already stomped up the stairs to the loft that Buck emerged, scowling.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, before either of them could speak.

That was six hours ago. Neither of them has said a single word to each other since outside of the bare minimum on calls. The tension in the back of the truck has been thick enough to cut with a knife, and none of Chim's increasingly desperate jokes has done a damn thing to lighten the mood.

Hen doesn't blame Bobby for being fed up with the pair of them. She's caught somewhere between that and worry, herself. This isn't like them. Either of them.

Eddie shrugs again, tense. "I don't really feel like talking about it."

"Mm." 

Hen kicks her legs out, relaxes into the chair and waits him out. It doesn't take long. Maybe two minutes before he lets out an angry little huff and says, "Marisol dumped me this morning."

"Oh," Hen says. That explains some of the mood, anyway. "Well, I'm sorry to—"

"I cheated on her. She found out."

She closes her mouth. For a moment she just looks at him: his tight jaw, his hands in fists on his thighs, so tense he looks like he's about to snap. Like looking through a warped mirror to a younger version of herself, and maybe that's why she manages some gentleness when she says, "That doesn't sound like you."

"Yeah. That's what Buck said. Shows what he knows."

"Why'd you do it?"

"It doesn't matter. It was stupid. I fucked up."

"If you're waiting on me to tell you otherwise, you'll be waiting a while." Eddie lets out a sharp, bitter little bark of laughter, and Hen adds. "I've been there, you know."

"Yeah. But it's not—Karen forgave you."

"Eventually, yeah. She didn't have to."

"Yeah," Eddie says, and then doesn't say anything else. 

"Is that what you and Buck were fighting about?"

He shrugs again. Like talking to a damn teenager, Hen thinks. Not Denny, with his easy sweetness, but like one of the other kids who come through their home sometimes on temporary placements: already on the defensive, claws out, ready to fight. 

"I guess," he mutters finally.

"You put him in your will?" Eddie scowls at her, and she shrugs. "Hey, if you want it to be a secret, maybe don't have your domestics at the top of your lungs in the locker room we all use."

He scoffs, clearly annoyed, but doesn't get up and storm off, so she's counting that as a win. Finally, he says, "Yeah. He's down as Chris's legal guardian if something happens to me. Since—uh, since I almost died in that well collapse a few years back."

Oh. Hen contemplates that for a moment, squares it up in her head with what she already knows about Eddie. It's not, she'll admit, completely out of left field. But still. "And you think maybe that was a mistake?"

Eddie groans, dropping his head back. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"Maybe you should tell Buck that."

"He's pissed at me."

"Seems mutual."

"Yeah," Eddie says, wry and still kind of irritated. But then he sighs. "You ever do something where you know the whole time you're doing it that it's going to blow up in your face, and somehow that still doesn't stop you?"

"Yep," Hen says, remembering a dark little motel room and the sharp cut of Eva's smile. A whole damn pile of fuck-ups, that relationship was, and she dragged it along with her to almost ruin the best thing in her life.

"I keep thinking I see Shannon. It's like she's just around the corner, like if I turn around fast enough, she'll be there, and I'll be able to go back and make it right. But I can't."

"No. You can't."

"It's been five fucking years."

"No timeline on grief."

"I went on a date with a woman just because she looked like her." Hen raises her eyebrows at him. He slouches lower in his seat. "A couple of dates. It—didn't end well."

"Mm. You mean because she turned out to be a whole damn person who wasn't Shannon, or because your girlfriend found out?"

"Both," Eddie mutters. "Believe me, I already heard it from Buck."

"Oh, I believe it."

"But he's—" Eddie snaps his mouth shut.

"Kind of a hypocrite on this particular subject?" Hen offers.

"That's not what I was going to say. He's with Tommy now. So."

"So?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

Hen would dearly love to interrogate that line of thinking, but she keeps her mouth shut. For a little while, they don't speak. It's a transient kind of peace; their next call could come at any minute. But for now, the city's as quiet as it ever is, lit up and beautiful in the distance.

Eventually, Eddie shifts in his chair, straightens up like he's bracing for something, then says, abruptly, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Hen raises her eyebrows. "Go ahead."

"Have you ever been with a guy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it," he says quickly, hunching in on himself again. "I don't even know why I asked. You can tell me to go to hell."

She almost does tell him to go to hell. Has her mouth open and everything. But then she takes another good look at his face and lets the words dissipate. 

"No," she says finally. "Kissed a couple of boys in high school, but I pretty much always knew it wasn't for me."

"Oh." Eddie's mouth twists. He's still staring a hole in the concrete by his feet, and Hen wishes like hell that this was easier for him, that he could have stumbled into it with wide eyes and open arms without leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake. Buck managed it, but it's not like that for everyone. She knows that.

"Karen was engaged to a man, you know," she says, and she watches him still, watches him turn, finally, to look at her. 

"I didn't know that."

"It was a long time ago. College sweetheart. She called it off a week before the wedding. Broke his damn heart, from what I hear. Probably better in the long run, though, all things considered."

Eddie laughs at that, a raw, horrible little sound. "I was a bad husband to Shannon. I loved her so much, and I still could never—and I always thought that maybe, if we'd just had more time, maybe I could have gotten it right, and we could have been a family again, and it would have been okay."

"But she died."

"She asked me for a divorce."

"Oh." Hen takes a breath, lets it out. Careful, careful. "I didn't know that."

"Nobody knows that. I mean. Bobby does. But nobody else. Because she died two days later, so I never had to—to tell anyone. I never had to admit it. I could keep pretending. But it doesn't even matter, because I've also fucked up every relationship I've been in since. So it's kind of obvious where the problem is."

"Mm. You know what my mama used to say?"

Eddie cuts her a look. "What?"

"Get down from that cross, we need the wood."

When he laughs this time, it sounds a little more real. Hen nudges her knee against his, and for a minute they sit there together in silence.

"I fucked up," he says again, but it's calmer.

"Yep."

"What the hell do I say to Buck?"

Not Marisol, Hen notes. Though the truth is she's pretty sure that whole relationship was dead and gone long before whatever went down this morning. Maybe from the very beginning. Eddie's just got a bad habit of dragging those corpses around. "Sorry might be a good start."

"He's gonna ask why. I don't have a good answer. I can't—" He looks over at her, and all Hen can think is that he looks so damn young. "I can't."

"So tell him that. You know he's not gonna push it."

"Yeah, he will."

"He's worried about you."

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah."

That was, Hen surmises what the fight was about in the first place. Unstoppable force, immovable object. Sometimes she wishes she could just knock their stubborn heads together until they showed some sense.

"He loves you," she says, and Eddie flinches.

"I know that," he mutters.

Hen sighs. "Just talk to him. You don't have to tell him anything you're not ready to tell him, but just—talk to him. Okay? For all our sakes."

"Yeah, okay," Eddie says, sounding defeated. "Sorry about that."

"We'll survive," Hen says. She bumps her knee against his again, and they sit there together in silence, watching the city lights, until the bell starts going off below.

[arreuyas]

NEEDINESS. | Satoru Gojo x F! Reader

*⁠.⁠✧ In which Gojo Satoru fantasizes about his girlfriend when she isn't home.

warnings: smut/nsfw, pillow humping, handjob/jerking, sniffing panties, overstimulation, unprotected sex, needy (almost sub) gojo.

wordcount: 1.8k

—

IT'S ALREADY past nine when Satoru reaches home. He opened the front door of the living room, hoping to see you there with your usual smile and receiving him into your embrace with those pretty open arms of yours. Yet, that didn't happen, making him raise an eyebrow in both worry and disappointment.

He immediately grabbed his phone, seeing that you left a text saying that you were going to be late. He sighed, already pouting from not having you to pamper him. Both your schedules usually matched— Satoru didn't really have a schedule, but he'd leave home with you and when he got back you would be already waiting for him. But both being sorcerers, it was only natural that this kind of thing could happen.

He sighed, taking off his shoes before locking the door and tossing the keys on the table. There wasn't dinner ready, because you were the one that did it for him, and Gojo didn't bother eating if it wasn't your cooked-home meal. So he went straight to your shared bedroom, in his mind he wanted to take a shower and change clothes but he was tired, and your absence only made him less willing to do anything, so instead he collapsed in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He misses you.

He always do, whenever you're not around. And he's always worrying about your safety too, knowing that you're strong but he'd be more relaxed if you two had more time together throughout the day. Yet, he knew it wouldn't happen because he was always sent to missions alone by the damn higher-ups, the burden of being the strongest sorcerer.

He let out another sigh, and when he inhaled he felt your scent coming from the room. Oh, yes. Your perfume still lingered on every part of the house, Satoru even avoided putting on cologne because it would mask your sweet scent.

He buried his face on your pillow, inhaling deeply and letting out another sigh, but this time being from appreciation. He remembered what you two did on the bed just the last night— you didn't change the sheets, because he had used a condom and you both had sex on the edge of the bed. But he could still smell it and the memories returned to his mind, very welcomed by him. He remembered your seductively smile as he pinned you to the bed, your hair sprawled around the pillow. Your blushing cheeks and oh...

He moaned, already aroused by only the most 'normal' parts of his memories of last night. He remembered your sexy voice whispering naughty against his ear, nibbling on his lobe. Fuck. His cock was already twitching in his pants. He moved his hand down to palm his bulge, a small groan coming from his throat as he did so. Satoru was already hard; he loved you so much that only the mere mention of your name was enough to make him melt.

He didn't like playing with himself alone, Satoru would always beg for you to do it. To have sex, when you two had the time. To jerk him off, when you didn't. A quickie or a blowjob, when you were tired. Either way, it was to be with you. But you weren't there. And he didn't have a clue how long you would take, either. It wouldn't do any harm to jerk off, right?

Yet, he knew it wouldn't be as exciting.

For some reason, his eyes glanced at the closet and that was when he had the nastiest thought he could have. The special-grade sorcerer knew that you would get mad at him, even slap him— not strong, though, because you'd never try to hurt your sweet boyfriend. But he wanted to, he needed you and what's the closest thing of you right now if not your scent... or something that is with you all day?

Without giving it much though, he alr had one of your panties in hands. A black laced one, his favorite. The lingerie had the bra as well but just this piece would be enough. He rested his back against the headboard of the bed, stroking his cock as he stared at your underwear, remembering just how sexy you were with it on. He wondered which one you were using today... Gojo didn't get to see you changing this morning. Fuck, he should've. Maybe you were without anything— he moaned from the thought.

His mind was filled with you, you and you. He was pumping his blushy dick with his hand, pearly precum leaking from the tip and lubricating the length. He wanted to fuck you, to bury himself deep inside you and make you dumb on his cock. To claim you, dominate you, breed you. You looked so pretty when you were overstimulated.

“Ah— Please.” He didn't know why he was beginning, alone in that bedroom, but the 'for who' was pretty obvious. Gripping tightly on your lingerie, Gojo bucked his hips up when that pleasure building up exploded. He groaned, biting his lower lip as he shoot his load. It dirtied his abdomen and some went to the sheets— he could just clean that up later before you reached home.

But he was still hard as a rock.

His pale skin was reddish as he breathed heavily, his blue eyes almost teary as he kept stroking his dick for you. It wasn't enough. It wouldn't be, no matter for how long he jerked himself. He needed you, now. Where the hell were you?

He moaned in a needy way, now he was laying down on the bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it in between his legs. Satoru started thrusting against it, rubbing his sensitive cock on the pillow as his hands gripped on the mattress. He placed your panties against his nose, inhaling the scent of the clean piece of cloth, but there was still a bit of the scent of your sex on it, and he loved it. He was so sensitive, so needy for you.

“Enjoying yourself, I see.” A voice he knows way too well suddenly filled the room and he moaned from hearing it. His eyes shoot to the door, seeing his sexy girlfriend with arms crossed staring at him... he almost came just from seeing you.

“Please, please–” He was still rocking his hips on the pillow, now while looking at you. You scoffed, approaching the bed slowly, almost tortuously for Satoru.

“Jerking yourself as your girlfriend is busy working, don't you have any shame? And is that my lingerie?” Your eyes widened with amusement as you saw the piece of your lingerie and how Satoru blushed even more from embarrassment. “How needy.”

You yanked the pillow from him, tossing it away and grabbing his dick in your hands. Satoru moaned loudly. His cock sprung against his abdomen, cum leaking out and making it almost shiny. His white hair was a mess, forehead dewy with sweat. You chuckled at the sigh, loving seeing him in that submissive state, begging for you. “Such a cute boy.” You purred, your thumb teasing hus tip as you stroke him slowly, making Satoru twitch and squirm at your touch, extremely sensitive and almost overstimulated.

You kissed his neck, making him groan. “Baby, please!” He begged, thrusting his hips up in the air and against your hand, moaning when you gave his cock a soft slap.

“I should punish you for being naughty... But for now I'll let you be, since you're cute.” You were quick to take off your own pants—the sorcerer uniform you used— and to straddle his lap with your legs. Your hand caressed his abdomen, seeing how he breathed in deeply, his body jolting under your touch.

“I'll be good, so please— I can't take it anymore, I'm gonna die!” You chuckled at how dramatic he sounded, and your hand moved to push your panties to the side.

Ah, the pink one. Satoru whined when he saw that, it was one of his favorites as well.

However, he didn't have much time to appreciate the view as you lined his cock with your cunt, pushing your hips down and embracing his length with your hot, wet cavern. Satoru's eyes widened as he moaned loudly like a bitch, squirming under you as he came inside.

“That was quick...” You chuckled, feeling his dick pulsating and how Satoru rolled his eyes to the back of his head before closing them and looking at back you with a needy look. “Do you think you can handle—”

You couldn't finish your sentence, as Gojo pinned you down to the bed and kissed you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and twirling with yours as he started thrusting in a fast pace. You chuckled, wrapping your legs around his hips and inviting him deeper as he moaned and moved like a dog in heat.

He moved his lips to your neck, biting and sucking, placing marks all over and then moving even lower to your breasts, nibbling on the nipple and sucking on it like he was eating a dessert. “I can't– Ngh, please... I don't think I can... hold back for much longer.”

His hand moved to your cunt, rubbing your clit in circles as he kept pounded into you, slowing down everytime he felt like orgasming. Satoru didn't want to cum alone again, he already did it twice. It would be too humiliating, he knew you'd tease him for at least two weeks.

“Cum with me, please, please.” He begged, resting his head on your collarbone. “Cum all over my cock, I want it so bad.” He growled yet let out a whimper right after, he was normally very dominant but this time he was acting like a virgin.

You moaned too, feeling as the pleasure was making your cunt clench around his cock, and you wrapped your hands around his back, nails scratching his back. “I'm gonna cum.” You announced with a gasp.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m coming!” Satoru groaned, his cock twitching and then spurting his hot seed, almost watery deep inside you. You came right after, moaning and arching your back instinctively, holding onto him. “Take it– Mhm. I love you so much!”

He kept pumping his seed inside you until there was nothing leaking anymore, both your highs calming down. Gojo looked at you with a shy, yet lustful face but then you started chuckling.

“My panties, Satoru? Really?”

“Don't tease me!”

—

©2023 hanfobia do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[jolapeno]

comfort came against my will

gif credit to @perotovar

joel miller x f!reader summary: it’ll begin with a little beg, a whispered plea—fingers wrapping around his chin, mouth ghosting over his: Let me ride you, Miller.

word count: 1.8k warnings: smut, p in v, jo's spelling and poetic nature. dedication: happy birthday to my friend, @swiftispunk - i know you love Joel, and i hope you love this. special thanks to @perotovar for letting me use their beautiful GIF that inspired half of my imagery, if not all of it.

There’s something about heavy rainfall.

The way it’s cleansing, renewing—almost reinvigorating, depending on when the last time it fell.

Joel found that the only downside is the scent it leaves behind.

Once, a long time ago, it used to leave behind a smell that others wished to bottle—a wish to burn it in candles or hang cheap versions from their car’s centre mirror in haphazardly cut-out trees.

Now, it has an aroma that reminds him of death. A stench which has dug itself into the hairs in his nose, unwilling to let go—clinging, desperate not to be forgotten.

But, you like the rain.

He'll always find you near the window when it pours, eyes tracing the droplets. Your chair purposefully, and with all intentions, pointing to the muck-covered window. Nothing more perfect, you’d murmur—fingers wrapped around one of the crystal glasses the two of you discovered on a run, pressing it to your cheek, off-coloured liquid sloshing as you sigh.

He’s pretty sure he could name a few other things more perfect than rain, but he does find it hard to argue that it isn't the most perfect soundtrack when your thighs are on either side of him.

Especially when the weather is like this. Where a flash of lightning can illuminate you, casting you in a brief spotlight that kisses over your curves and the evidence of your survival.

Tonight, it begins with you draining your glass, turning your head, eyes shimmering as you move from your place, coming to join him on the bed.

Your fingers, both a little rough and soft, wrap around his chin, before a little beg, a whispered plea fills the air—mouth ghosting over his: Let me ride you, Miller.

He couldn’t argue, would never protest. But, your mouth stealing any words he wishes to say. Because he likes having you under him—pinned, close, unable to look anywhere but directly at him. For when you stare, you make everything else pale in comparison. Made the world around mute, it all fading to nought.

You do so with ease, with a single look. One he imagines has always been there, all very much you, even if the state of things has tried to steal it away. He can easily imagine a younger you modelling it, one without the stress lines of living, it all softer, gentler.

Joel doesn’t mind that isn't the case now. He doesn't care for gentle or soft. He likes how sharp you are, that you can cut, wound and make him bleed. He enjoys that, even if he doesn’t deserve anything from you, you stand side-by-side with him, choosing him—wanting and needing, all raised brow with a smirk to match.

If you listen, the rain is telling us something.

You're close to his ear as you mumble it, lips ghosting down his cheek before a clap of thunder steals the phantoms of your whispered echo.

His hands fan over your hips, pushing up one of his tees that you're wearing, sliding it up with his thumbs—feeling how your skin moves, shifts, lengthening over your muscles and bones. His mind busy, occupied, only thinking about how beautiful you are, even when drenched in darkness.

How you’re all untouched except the few scars, the nips and scratches left by those who wished to end you, but found that you weren’t so easy to dispose of.

Joel knows that you’re vicious, all sharp teeth and a menace with a knife many shouldn’t ever want to meet in a dark alley, not that the world has cottoned on. Each try, each fail. He often watches, in awe, pleased, because you're like him. So smooth in the way you're prepared to split someone open, coat your boots in their ichor as the rest of them spill out. Leaving him, often, battling his feelings at the sight.

But while he knows that side of you, Joel also knows the other you.

The one who still believes the rain is romantic. A soul who wishes for a pretty print on a dress, even if you'll only wear it in the four walls of the place you two share. Modelling it for him, dipping your toe into a fantasy with him. You also like the little things, such as a pair of matching glasses, enjoying that they belong together, a metaphor for something you clearly desperately crave.

If he were an honest man, one not ripped to shreds and put together all wrong, he’d tell you you’re a more perfect sight than rain. Not just when you’re sitting on top of him or when you’re under him; not just when you’re panting, venom in your eyes and splattered with cherry-red. But, when you’re just beside him.

Breathing, existing, sleeping.

He’d tell you that you’re an image perfectly cut out of an old version of his happy ever after, slapped down and glued beside him now, even when he’s all tragedy and tragic. That your darkness dances with his faultlessly—making him less alone.

That for you, he’d want to be better, which included letting you go—even if you’re pulling him close—because a man such as him, with hands stained and scarred with horrors, shouldn’t get to touch smeared perfection. That you’re not really poisoned or rotten, just living, fighting—claws digging into the soil, all desperate for another moment.

It’s why he lets you have your fun, and then he flips you under him, palm to your cheek, stare burning into yours.

What’s it tryin’ to tell us? The rain.

You fit him inside of you perfectly—just like you’ve fitted yourself in his space. You’re all knotted around him, heat warm—inviting. Your thighs pressing close, legs crossing behind him, aiding, helping.

Not because you don’t think he’d get you there, but because you’re conscientious, caring—it appears in smaller gestures others wouldn’t notice, but he sees them. Bottles them. Keep them close when you’re not beside him.

Not that he shows it.

Unsure once again, for the billionth time since you stood beside him (and never left), what you see in him—what you think he can give you. Because he’s old, worn, somewhat broken beyond repair—not that it stops you from trying.

“More, Joel. Please.��

You don’t call him pet names, but he hears them in the silence.

They quiver and talk in hushed voices in the kitchen that is covered in grime and not fit for a beauty such as yourself. Some even sprout on his tongue, a fresh seedling, all untouched and unruined—not yet weeded from his throat.

He finds it harder to not let them fall when you sound as pretty as you do. When your nails press half-moons into his skin, leaving a tale of your own in his forearms and biceps, meeting him with everything you have as your walls tighten, delightfully, a match made in hell—because heaven would never allow him. Or you now, he supposes.

It’s why his thumb slides between the two of you, licked with his spit, mixing with the slick against your swollen clit. You gasp, spraying sweetness around the air that's heavy-layered with sex.

He’s forever starving, never quenched—a need for you that runs deeper than mere living and existing. Not ever able to purge you from his system, never wanting to either. Because you’re entangled with him, rooted, anchored inside of him so you can bob along and never go under.

Not that he’d let you.

Joel would never.

His hips punctuate that sentiment. Wanting you to know it, driving them in, so the words don’t go in one ear and out the other. He aims to stamp them in you, fuck them so deep into you you’ll never forget. The sound of skin on skin, groan and grunt, all filling the space, evidence of his determination, swirling around your returning breath, still moaning, murmuring—all scratchy and rough.

“—Let go, Joel. Fill me.”

It rips from him, your name.

Each letter is important, each sound giving the attention it deserves as it coats the air—mouth finding the space between your ear and neck, kissing, teeth nipping.

“Stuff me full.”

The rain hammers heavier, beating its fists against the glass as though it’ll only calm when he does as you’ve asked. As though you and nature are tied together, bonded—the real pairing made in paradise.

It’s then your lips find his, sloppy, messy, all uncoordinated. He can taste the bitterness of your drink on your tongue and the pleasure he’d given you. His mouth lapping it up, licking into yours, tongue far past your teeth as he grips you a little tighter, ruts into you a little deeper—as if hoping there’s more of you to explore, more vastness he can leave a mark on.

It's muffled, but you cut the air with his name as if your tongue is a blade. Your body tightens, mouth ripped from his as you bare your throat, chin lifted, eyes closed as it washes over you and your walls become a vice, hugging his cock in a way no one else ever has.

He's close.

So close.

Another flash, it all bright, exposing the sweat collected on your skin, the path it has made between your breastbone, the way your body looks under him.

Then it’s electric, ripping through him as he stains, writing you’re his all in thick ropes of white—his hips stuttering, slowing, riding it out what it is you do to him. It’s a feeling akin to being folded inside out and then put back again—making his muscles tense and relax, his bones forget they ache, as his throat burns with the force of his exclamation.

It’s minutes, little seconds clumping up until an expanse of time collects, and he’s ready to leave the space between your thighs.

Your eyes on him, all unwavering, mapping his features as though you’re an artist, ready to make him into a sculpture.

He doesn’t tell you to stop, he's learnt his lesson from doing as such—eyes ablaze, full of molten, words sharp as ice, all a twisted juxtaposition as you lay into him all the ways you were, are and am enamoured by him.

He’s sure his list is longer, but he swallowed that, too.

Joel had just nodded, left you angry for half an evening until his arms wrapped around you, and he felt you melt, less lava and more a candle-lit flame licking at him until he took you to bed.

Even if a scrap of time has passed since then, Joel is still no closer to finding himself comfortable with the look—the one he suspects comes with words. Ones you don’t thankfully spill, but ones he would mean just as much if he really asked himself.

It isn’t until you tap him, that he moves. You’re more nimble, quicker on your feet to fetch a rag to clean yourself and then him. Each touch delicate, your stare concentrated before the cloth is cast to some corner—a thing you’ll move and clean tomorrow.

And then, you’re beside him, finding the place you usually choose—all intentional, willingly given—as his arm finds itself around you. A flash of lightning displaying the two of your shadows pressed together, merged in ways the two of your souls are.

Swallowing, he finds your stare is back on the window, the world outside painting its own version of a masterpiece.

“Y’never said what the rain’s telling us.”

You smile, before you lift up your chin, looking at him through your brows. “Just stories. The rain likes to tell stories.”

an: ily, han.

[ohbo-ohno]

hear me out: ghoap x reader (noncon) in an abandoned factory. Reader only has an unreasonably short amount of time to escape before they get to keep her and do whatever they want to her

1k game here - no more please! im trying to get through these but they're slow going because im incapable of writing anything less than a thousand words apparently

1.8k of ghoap (mostly ghost) x reader chasing very scared reader through a factory :/ this is very similar to everything else i've ever written so nothing new here folks. (aka noncon!!!) btw this one is just pwp, nothin else much here to see

Your breaths heave out of you in pants, almost violent in their intensity. You feel like you can hardly breathe, but it doesn't matter. all that matters is running, getting away from the monsters chasing you.

You can hear them. Or, one of them at least. Johnny - the Scottish one, the one you'd been stupid enough to follow out of the bar in the first place. His partner - either Ghost or Simon, Johnny had called him both - your sure is silent as he moves. He'd blended into the shadows for so long when you first woke up, and you know he's doing it again.

You can't think about them. If you think about them for too long you'll spiral, and that is the last thing you need.

No, you have to run.

The old factory is a creepy place, cobwebs and dust covering everything, random creaking noises from machines, lights flickering on and off with no rhyme or reason. It takes all of your willpower not to scream when you feel a roach crawl across the toe of your heels.

The shoes are something you're still not sure if you made the right choice on - you can't walk silently in them, but you have absolutely no idea what you could possibly step on. The last thing you need is to somehow give yourself tetanus while running from your possible killers.

Still, the way you click-clack along the concrete floors makes you wince with every step.

"Where are you, bonnie?" Johnny echoes nearby. You've been trying to track him by listening to how many times his voice echoes, and he sounds very close now.

You duck into the first room you see, shoving yourself along a dark wall and fumbling around in the pitch black. The room must be windowless because there isn't even a hint of light, nothing that lets you see even vague shapes in the room.

Still, it's silent. You hear loud footsteps approach the door, and breathe out a large sigh of relief when they keep walking. Johnny shouts something indiscernible, and his voice fades into the distance.

You go limp against what you're sure is a wall, letting yourself breathe as heavily as you want now that you're sure there's no chance of being found.

The adrenaline makes your hands shake. Your lungs ache from the strain you've put them under, and you feel a little lightheaded from fear. But you try to shove all of that away - all that matters is that you stay away from your pursuers until morning.

The door opens.

Any peace you'd managed to find disappears in the blink of an eye, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your whimper. The door opens inwards, and whoever steps in can't see from around it. You're safe until he lets it fall closed behind him, plunging the room into darkness.

It's got to be Ghost. Even without knowing them all that well, you know Johnny wouldn't be able to resist taunting you. You hadn't seen much more than a silhouette, but you're sure this is Simon.

You can't try and move. Your shoes are too loud, and trying to kick them off would be just as loud as walking. Your only option is to stand still and pray he doesn't find you.

He's silent as he moves. You can't hear breathing, or footsteps, or even if he brushes over something. The room is as quiet as it was before he found it. But you can't relax. Your legs are tensed in preparation to run, and your heart beats so loudly you're sure he could hear it if he came close enough.

But he doesn't. The room is silent, and he doesn't find you.

There's a point where you're nearly convinced that he never came into the room at all. Is it possible that you hallucinated him? That your exhausted and terrified brain conjured up a threat that isn't real?

It takes a long, long time, but eventually you start to relax against the wall. It must've been nearly ten minutes of dead silence now, surely you've just started seeing things. No man could stand that still, stay so quiet, for so long.

You let your arm fall from your face, puffing breaths into the slightly musty air. Another few minutes, and you'll move again.

"Boo," a voice whispers in your ear, from directly next to you.

You scream, leaping away from the sudden wall of heat at your side. It doesn't let you, a hand snapping out and grabbing you by your upper arm before you can fall. You scream again as he pulls you closer, don't stop screaming as he turns you around and pins you by the chest to the wall.

He's all man and heat as he presses himself to your back, lips hovering by your ear, breaths ghosting over the sensitive shell.

"Got you," he whispers, nipping at your ear. "Stop your wailin', you're alright."

You do not, in fact, stop wailing. It feels impossible to swallow the sobs spilling from your throat, like if you close your mouth they'll choke you. So you stand pinned to the wall, tears already spilling down your cheeks as you blubber mindlessly.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder. "Little crybaby, aren't ya? That's alright, doll, I don't mind a few tears."

You can feel him undoing his belt behind you, and that only makes you more panicked. You throw yourself back against him, desperate to get him off, but you're nowhere near strong enough to do anything.

Ghost grunts over your shoulder, using one hand to force you flush with the wall again.

"Stay," he grunts, naked hips brushing against your ass as he flips your skirt up. "Unless you want me to get a little rougher? That what you want, love? Want me to throw you down and fuck you until you bleed?"

You keen loudly, shaking your head as best you can with your face forced into the wall. "No, no, nonono, please, please, you can't- oh God, please don't-"

He laughs lowly, rocking his hard cock between your thighs. "Just Ghost will do, love. Now, let's stretch you out a bit, hm? No need for blood when you're good for me."

You're bone dry between your thighs, no room for anything but fear in your head. Simon doesn't seem to mind, slowly stroking over your clit until your body betrays you.

"There we go," he murmurs as you first start to leak onto his fingers. "Little more for me, love, c'mon."

You've got no choice but to obey. It's like Ghost has a manual on how to make you feel best, stroking over all the parts that make your cunt drool, using just enough pleasure to keep things feeling horribly good.

You sob against the wall, pressing your forehead so hard into the rough surface that it hurts. All you can do is stand still and take what he gives you, forced to bear witness to your own destruction.

He's silent as he slips one finger, than another, inside of you. You whine against the intrusion, the slight sting a horrible pleasure.

"Hush, love," he soothes, rutting himself against your leg. "You're almost ready, won't be much longer now."

That only makes you more distressed, and you sob into the wall.

He's true to his word and doesn't spend much longer fingering you, his own intent seeming to be to spread you out enough to take him. You hope the fact that he only used two fingers means he isn't too large, but the size of each finger tells you otherwise.

You can't help but cry out when you feel his warm head rest against your entrance. Your hands fist against the wall as you fight back every urge to lash out, knowing that'll only make everything worse.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Still for me now, good girl. Won't make you do any of the work, just gotta stand there and take it for me." He speaks as he pushes slowly into you, raising his voice enough to be heard over your sounds of pain and pleasure.

He's thick, so much thicker than the two fingers he stretched you with, and there's a moment where you think he really has made you bleed. The pain isn't sharp enough for that though, just a never ending push into the clutch of your body.

"There you go," he moans when his hips meet the meat of your ass, as deep inside of you as he can get at this angle. "You feel like heaven, doll, never felt a cunt this tight, fuck."

"Pl-please," you splutter, breath shaky. "Please don't, it hurts..."

"Oh yeah? It hurts?" He coos, hands stroking faux-comfortingly over your hip. "Poor thing, 'm just too big for your little hole, huh? You'll just have to relax, then, I'll make you feel good once I'm finished."

A little heartbroken noise slips from your throat, but you do your best to listen. There isn't much else to do but bear whatever he chooses to give, so you try to relax your muscles, letting the wall take your weight.

"Good girl, good girl for me," he breaths, grinding his hips deep into you.

You feel him inhale deeply against you and try to mimic the pace of his breathing, bracing yourself as he pulls out.

Mercifully, he's silent as he fucks you. He seems to be lost in your body, shoving his face into your neck and running his teeth over the thin skin over your pulse.

It feels almost dream-like, to be taken like this. You can't move with how closely he has you crowded, and the room remains the absolute pitch black - you can't even see the outline of Simon's form over your shoulder. It's like what's happening is stuck in only this room, and you tell yourself that when it's over, when you leave, you'll be able to pretend this never happened.

That illusion is ruined when the door opens, flooding the room with light.

You get another look at Ghost as he pulls his head away from your neck to look over - he's sweat-slicked and flushed, eyes narrowed as he looks to see the intruder.

"Aw, you started without me?" Johnny whines, leaving the door wide-open as he trots over to where you're pinned.

Ghost huffs a laugh over your shoulder, continuing to fuck you at his same pace, leaving you wracked with pleasure. "First come, first serve, Johnny - shoulda been faster if you wanted to play with her first."

Through teary eyes you can see that Johnny doesn't look all that upset as he leans on the wall next to you. He plants a hand in the center of your chest, pushing you back into Ghost to make just enough room for him to squeeze between him and the wall.

You're left using his body to hold yourself up, instinctually gripping his arms to keep from collapsing.

He nudges your chin up with one hand as Ghost starts to really pound into you, leaving you drooling onto his thumb.

"Don't worry, bonnie," he winks. "I don't mind sloppy seconds."

[digitalagepulao]

My sincere Black Myth: Wukong review

Full disclosure! This is from a recent but earnest fan of JTTW as the original novel, as well as all the social, cultural and religious layers of it. I've seen my fair share of adaptations and derivative media, from shlocky to silly to grimdark to cutesy. I'm a bachelor in visual arts, with an interest in the field of game development since high school. I am also, white and brazillian, and have talked with other jttw fans, both Chinese and not, on this game. If any of these are for some reason motive to not read further, then fair enough. Hope you have fun and continue to enjoy the game, do not let me or my opinion stop you!

Now to the review proper <3

First things first, let the obvious not remain unsaid. This game, is supremely gorgeous. In every sense of the word, and I mean this fully, it's a work of art. The sound design, the character concepts and execution, the animations, the voice acting, the visual effects, the UI design, the cinematography, the 3D scanning of actual historical artofacts and heritage sites throughout China, and everything beyond and between, are phenomenal, full stop.

This was never a debate, I'm sure, but I don't think I can in good conscience not praise them for their work. It's no news that Asian talent, not just in China either, have been often hired to supplement projects on the West, and we can all agree it's about time they got to shine in their own AAA project. My issues with the international game industry notwithstanding, I hope this brings some much needed acknowledgment and appreciation for Chinese culture and arts, both traditional and modern!

Now, from this point on, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS, so proceed with caution!

(word count: +1.8k)

I also deeply enjoy their choices in arcs to revisit. Some like the Flaming Mountain arc are classic picks to adapt but still a very good match to the whole Six Senses throughline. I don't think you can do a JTTW 2 electric bogaloo without bringing up Niumowang and his family in some way (um, put a pin on that), but the other arcs like Yellowbrow or Black Wind Mountain aren't as explored imo, so it's nice to see them being given a bit of a spotlight.

(speaking of the Yellow Ridge arc, whoever made the executive decision of Lingji Bodhisattva being a Xaanxi singer is, genius!!)

I'm also kind of in love?? with Bajie's design and role in the story overall?? Gameplay wise he sticks around just enough to not feel lonely, but not too long to be a nuisance or overstay his welcome. He's no Atreus (GoW) or Ellie (TLoU) of course, but he doesn't need to be, and most importantly, he isn't trying to be, which I feel is admirable of the devs. Given the visible inspirations from the recent God of War games, it would have been easy to lean a bit too hard on it, but I'm glad they didn't overreach.

Him having a more complex love life is also a nice touch imo. It explores more his womanizer ways in an interesting way, and I appreciate it. I love when people complicate the pig! Also, the way he treats Xiaosheng (Destined One) like a nephew?? The scene on the Huaguoshan throne??? I'M GONNA CRY!!!

I think, I've run out of positive things to say.... time for the spicy takes.

I, kind of detest the premise by default. I'm not a big fan of "Superman is Dead" plots, cus it's usually either done for shock value, or taken so lightly that the weight is totally lost. I have such a love-hate situationship with the introduction cutscene because of this. On one hand, it's phenomenal cinema, and seeing Wukong stand up to the Heavenly armies in glorious 4K high fidelity graphics is delicious. On the other hand, the whole debate they are having has me going "?????", not because I don't get it but just, why?? Why did this have to be the premise?? (put another pin on that)

Also the set up and call to adventure is kind of blergh.

Now is as good a time as any to talk about the gameplay. It's, okay. If you enjoy trying to figure out the most stylish combos, or to mash buttons, then you'll definitely have fun. I was sorely disappointed that I pretty much have been going through the bosses rather easily. Chapter 1 it was mostly the struggle of learning the controls, but I never stuck to a boss for longer than seven tries (Whiteclad Noble, the snakeman that you are). Chapter 2 I only struggled on Tiger Vanguard, because I was sorely underleveled and had missed a pathway to explore before him. After that I second tried him. Chapter 3, I have and I'm not joking, gotten halfway through first or second trying every boss.

Mind you, this is not being some godtier gamer or whatever, I'm pretty average and only a recent player of soulslike games too (maybe playing Lies of P made too OP, but I sincerely doubt it lol). No, this is me saying that if you do explore the game and not rush through it, you won't struggle nearly as much as some people have and still are. Most of the final chapter bosses can be trivialized with the chapter's Obsession Realm gimmick artifact, which isn't in itself a bad thing, just feels like an odd choice personally.

Which leads me to, the level design. So far? Preeeeetty lame! It's very pretty and fancy, but so chockful of invisible walls that it feels stiffling and discourages exploration. I can never tell what is meant to be a path or just fancy scenery, and I never know when a jump will get walled or send me to my death by fall damage. When it's not being confusing, the level design is either a bunch of looping circles, or straight lines. And so far, besides a few interactables and loot, there is not much else to look at. That is, bad level design, plain and simple.

Also, the animations are glorious, but what is the point if I can't see the enemy?? That camera is my true nemesis, and I mean that. the fact that a boss can be beyond my field of vision at ANY POINT when I'm locked on and it strifes sideways, is dreadful. GameScience, FIX IT. It is also, very hard to tell what parts of a boss will damage me if I collide with them or not. The Kang-Jin Long fight was baffling on a design point of view, same for Captain Lotus-Vision. Some clearer hitboxes would be swell.

This is the point where I say my main issue with the game lies: it's very pretty, and adoringly crafted, but it lacks substance design wise. I feel like it needed to cook more, the level design polished more so I wouldn't get lost every five minutes, and clearer.... well, everything. Mechanic explanations, level progression, gimmicks, etc. It all needed to be less murky and convoluted to understand.

It also needed more meat in between bosses. I have yet to run into common enemies that give me actual trouble, so it ends up being just a jolly waltz from boss to boss. Boss rushes are fun and great, but not as the base game experience (for me at least). I had to stop one boss away from completing Chapter 1 cus I was just so exhausted. And I had been playing for like, an hour and a half?? That left a sour taste in my mouth, I'll be honest.

Okay, I'm gonna pick open those pins now.

#1 the Flaming Mountain Arc. I'm gonna be very real here chat, that was so cringe. What do you MEAN, Red Son wasn't Demon Bull King's biological son, and Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink from the Childbearing River??? And Red Son hates him????When I watched that cutscene, I had to pause and walk away for a moment, legitimately. This plotbeat is SO WILD to me, I got nothing to say. Just, why??Soooo bizarre. And that the Flaming Mountain Keeper has such a presence in Iron Fan's life is also, weird?? Not bad weird, just Weird, but that's like a nitpick more than an actual criticism. Ping Ping is fine though, I like that Bull has a daughter with Princess Fair Fox, that's cute and interesting. Wish she was in a better plot and adaptation but lol

And #2, the premise. Now we are getting to the meat of it all.

The underlying premise of the whole plot, including the true ending, is flawed by default. The premise runs on what is sometimes called as a "conspiracy theory plot", as in, "what if the gods were bad actually??". It's reddit movie theory content in very short terms, and while it had a place during the 00s grimdark years pre-Marvel, it's become quite a jaded and boring take nowadays. Now you may say that it comes from a genuine desire to show distrust and critique to insitutions and the powers than be, and I can see that.

There is a hiccup in that though.

In JTTW, Wukong is the Mind Monkey because of the religious text and subtext of the stories. Its interwoven in the whole thing, and makes it cohesive. It still offer critique and mockery to institutions, without entirely invalidating their foundations. Not only for genuine fear of prosecution, but because, shockingly, religion and belief is a major component of human society in general. But going back to my point, JTTW is *already* a critique of institutions and the power that be. Adding further layers into it feel like angst and edginess just for the sake of it, and that feels hollow to me.

To go further, this intent also clashes with their own plot. See, they bring up that Wukong's Mind, his Sixth Sense, died. Thus they need another Mind to guide his other senses and reform him, so that he may be reborn.

For one, that is such a convoluted way to do a reincarnation plot, it feels complicated just for novelty sake. Secondly, Wukong being the Mind Monkey, as I said, implies a tie to the underlying themes of the Journey as a person's path to enlightenment. If enlightenment itself is flawed because the gods are flawed/evil, then both themes are clashing. By making a "what if the gods were evil all along" plot while also going by the laws and order of said gods, then what are we even fighting against? What is the point of this whole rebellion between Erlang and Wukong??

my friend @ryin-silverfish said it best a while back, and I'm paraphrasing here (do pitch in or correct me if needed! <3), but the issue with these conspiracy narratives is the inherent anti-religion of them. They don't believe in anything, and thus they cannot properly retell the story of JTTW through a postmodern lense, because they refuse to engage with the religiosity that runs throughout the story.

It also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, because this game will likely be many people's first genuine experience with the JTTW mythos and story, and I tend to be concerned for how much this will "sour the pot" in the conversation. The novels are sadly innacessible enough as it is; the sheer size of them scare many people away, not even to mention the amount of underlying cultural context you'll miss out without proper footnotes and commentary. Most people will not engage with them directly, and certainly not most gamers.

While the narrative of someone embodying Wukong's spirit is not new in itself, I do find that it coexisting with such a poor premise and spin on it will be a sore first experience for new fans, and I can only hope that them meeting fans of the OG novels won't cause much friction in the fandom (we have enough as it is imo).

It also concerns me that, sadly, people and gamers in particular, get too swept up in the ooh-aah beauty of flashy sfx and highly detailed graphics, and fail to notice some of the underlying issues in game design. As I said, this game is a work of art, but it has flaws, and I don't think people are speaking of them enough. No, the issue is not "lack of diversity" or whatever the hell.

It runs deeper than that, and it's an issue I've come to see in recent movies as well. I'm aware it might just be different cultural expectations of the pacing and span of a story, and it may as well be! But I think if there was more care given to the bones of a media, it would bring much needed longevity and weight to these wonderful artworks.

All this said, I wanna see what acolades this game gets and see what the devs are cooking up with the DLCs (they said at one point the game was supposed to have 12 chapters and my god, that game would be TOO LONG. So glad it didn't get like that!), and further more see how this ripples in the eastern game dev scene. While this is a flawed game with a flawed story, it can be the first on a genuinely wonderful wave of new creations, not just by GameScience, and overall I'm hopeful for what might come next!

[urprettylittlething]

Creamy Treat

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - More CursedKitty content for you guyss, this one was a request from a lovely anon <33 I apologise if its terrible I've literally never given a bj before in my life, but alas I hope you enjoy, this one is more Gojo centric since I've done one for Geto, but he does appear at the end, someone also requested on ao3 for a Gojo centric one, also so sorry I take so long to do them, its just how I run lmao, Thank you guys so much for all the love so far <3333 I love you guys so so much, please leave comments I love reading them and replying <33 My inbox is open if you guys have any more ideas, doesn't have to just be for cursed Kitty, but I also have a little Sukuna x cursed spirit animal reader somewhere in my notes if anyone is interested ;), I'm also very big on Toji right now too

summary - Gojo teaches Kitty how to give a blow job.

warnings - Dubcon/Noncon-ish, this one is more heavy on extremely dubious consent, he gets a little rough, lots of praise though, he gets a little scary for like 2 seconds, very vague references to punishment, very vague yandere vibes here, cum, and cock lol, Kitty gives a bj, he fucks her mouth, also shoves his fingers in her mouth, he rubs her ears, Kitty purrs around his cock, he pins her arms down too, I think that's everything let me know if it isn't

genre - Oneshot drabble thing

wc - 1.8K

~spelling and grammar already fixed~ (hopefully)

Gojo was sprawled out on the couch, head leaned back against the top while staring at the ceiling, arms dangled on either side over the edge of the couch and his legs were spread wide in front of him. And over his lap was their precious little kitten. 

She was laying belly down on the couch, ass and legs over one of his legs while her head perched on the other. 

She was dozing, and Gojo was bored. Suguru had left on a little solo mission around an hour ago. Gojo wasn’t worried, it wasn’t meant to be difficult or anything and Suguru said he would stop for food on the way back. But he was taking forever. 

At least in Gojos eyes.

His pretty kitty was happily dreaming the time away, tail gently curled around her waist, ears twitching and flickering every few minutes. Mouth open a little as she breathed. When he leaned over to check on her he caught the briefest glimpses of her tongue resting in her mouth. Supple and pink, glistening a little from her saliva.

The temptation was strong, to just shove his fingers in her mouth and watch her choke on them. Spluttering and gagging and drooling. And with that thought came more, shoving his cock down her throat. Having her choke and splutter on that. Her pretty little tongue lapping up his cum when he finishes.

His head rolls back again when he feels himself straining in his pants. He can’t fuck her pretty pussy since him and Suguru did that a few hours ago. She’s probably still sensitive and he doesn’t feel like breaking their shiny new toy just yet.

Maybe he could fuck her mouth after all. All she’d need is some practice.

His head picks itself back up again as he gazes down at her. Fluffy ears still twitching atop her head. With one hand he reaches down and brushes his fingertips against the soft plush of her lips. 

That little pink tongue of hers pokes out to lick her lips before retreating. Gojo huffs before gently prodding his fingers into her mouth slowly. Sliding down the length of her tongue at a comfortable distance, not choking her just yet.

He leaves his fingers still, feeling her tongue caress his fingers in curiosity at the new intrusion. After a few seconds Kitty whines, eyes fluttering open ever so slightly. 

This is where he starts thrusting his fingers in her mouth, gently at first before picking up speed the more she awakes. 

“C’mon Kitty. Time to wake up. Got a really big problem here for you to take care of.”

Kitty swallows reflexively around his fingers from the saliva build up. Sucking on them gently in her confusion, tail uncoiling itself from around her waist and ears twitching to life atop her head, perking up when Gojo utters some more words.

He tilts his head slightly, “Now that you're nice and awake, how about a treat for my pretty Kitty? You’ve been so good lately, haven't you?” His fingers slide out of her mouth.

She immediately perks up. Ears alert and tail swishing around behind her at the word ‘treat’. 

Gojo smirks, picking her up from under her arms and depositing her on the floor in front of him. She sits down comfortably on her knees.

“It’s a lollipop, a nice big lollipop just for you! It even comes with a special surprise, with cream inside. But you have to work for it!” He tells her, looking down at the eager Kitty while spreading his legs even further. 

When Kitty nods her head with her eyes shining, only really understanding the word ‘treat’ and ‘cream’, he reaches down and tugs his trousers over his ass and partially down his thighs. Just enough for his hand to slip into his underwear and tug his heavy, leaking cock out.

Kitty sits up even more eagerly now, recognising the situation even just a little, as well as his cock. Gojo knows that they’ve fucked you a few times already, and he knows that you at least have somewhat of an idea of where the thick white stuff they leave in, or on, you comes from. But he can pretend a little, teaching Kitty how to give a blowjob is getting him all worked up.

Kitty is sitting up and staring at his cock while he pumps it quickly to get himself going. She’s aware that it’s what gives her pleasure sometimes, but she’s never really seen it. Stopped to look at it or anything.

When he feels nice and ready, he coaxes her down. “Go on baby, give it a lick, nice and gently.” 

She stares for a second, watching his hard cock throb, flushed a pretty pink with little beads of liquid gathering at the top. She perches her hands on his knees, leaning up to flick out her tongue and take a quick lick.

Gojo’s breath catches for just a second before he urges her a little more, “C’mon Kitty, gotta do more.” His eyes are starting to become lidded, a light flush taking over his cheeks as he settles further into the cushions below him. 

Her ears perk up in interest before she takes another little lick. Then another. And then longer ones, more harsher ones. The slight salty taste along with the texture had her intrigued. 

Gojo had his eyes locked on her face, on her little pink tongue gliding up his cock. Starting almost from the base and finishing with a flick just under the head. His eyes closed for a second, enjoying the ministrations from her tongue.

On the head of his cock, little droplets of precum had gathered up enough so begin sliding slowly down the head. Catching Kittys interest. And after one more long lick up the length of his cock she leans up to put her lips over the head of his cock and suck.

Gojos eyes flew open, his hips thrusting up at the unexpected pleasure and cock twitching in delight. 

Kitty had pulled back for a second, taking the time to taste him on her tongue before she leant forward again when more started to form. This time when she wrapped her lips around his head and sucked he was prepared. Breath only hitching before getting deeper. The light flush took over his face making its way down his neck. 

He watched the confused face she was making before she tried sucking harder. He grunted, “Gotta’ use your tongue kitty.” 

Her ears swivelled in the direction of his voice, eyes looking up at him from her position on the floor, the head of his cock being suckled on like an ice lolly.

He could feel the way the tip of her tongue hesitantly reached out to glide along what's currently in her mouth. 

His head leaned back again, closing his eyes and just enjoying the pleasure he was getting. It was fun not having to do the work all the time.

After a few minutes of this Kitty was becoming more and more agitated it seemed. He hums, “Want your cream, huh Kitty?” 

She pulled away, lips now swollen and red, strings of drool pulling its way between his cock and her mouth. She nods, ears almost downturned from not getting her creamy treat yet. 

Gojos mouth suddenly twists up into a smirk, a thought has entered his head. “Okay baby. You’ll get your cream.” He suddenly sits up from his slouched position, reaching down and grasping onto her wrists, pulling her hands under each leg on either side. Effectively pinning her arms down, making them immobile. 

“Lean forward for me. There's a good girl. Gonna’ let me fuck your tiny mouth, are you? Of course you are. My good little Kitty.” Gojo murmurs, one hand cupping the back of her head and guiding it forward. 

With her mouth already open and lips wet with drool it was easy to just slide his cock right into it. “Now, don't use your teeth. Or you’ll get punished, got it?” His voice had taken an edge to it, her eyes peering up at his while she blinked. 

His eyes were shadowed, a serious aura taking over him whilst her ears flattened. A small whimper hummed around his cock before small nods were given. He knew she got the message.

He hums, “Good girl.” Hand burying into her hair at the back of her head before he started thrusting into her mouth. 

Gently at first, before gradually picking up speed, the amount of drool made for an easy slide in and out of her mouth. And with her hands tucked away under his spread legs, she couldn’t push him away or scratch at him either. 

Sure, he could feel her wrists squirming under his thighs. And sure, she was having trouble breathing. Choking on the little air she was getting, tears building up in her eyes before spilling over. Her ears kept flattened to the sides of her head, tail swishing wildly behind her. 

But god, did it feel good. 

He was still being kind though, not thrusting all of his cock into her mouth. He reached forward, bringing the other hand to one of her ears and rubbing. “My pretty Kitty.” 

The second he felt the vibrations beginning to hum around his cock his eyes widened. 

Gojos just found his new favourite thing.

With the gradually frantic thrusting, paired with the purring from him kneading into the base of one of her ears, he knew he wouldn't last very long. 

His breathing grew deeper, sweat beading upon his brows while they were furrowed. Grunts and praises spilling from his mouth as his balls tightened and his cock twitched. 

“Gonna’ get your cream. Give it to you. Been such a good little Kitty for me. Perfect… Fuck. Good girl.. Good, fucking-.. Fuck!” He cursed, throwing his head back as his hips stuttered while emptying his load into Kitty's mouth and down her throat. 

Cock sliding out from between her lips he looked back down at her. Hand paused in kneading at her fluffy ear. And what a sight she was. Face red and eyes watery, lips puffy and wet, saliva glistening on her chin, all as she sputtered and gasped. 

His other hand that was buried in her hair at the back loosened its tight grip, gently threading through the strands as she leant her head against his knee. Gradually gaining her breath back.

“So good. Pretty Kitty.” He praised gently, almost murmuring before a voice spoke up from the doorway.

“Well wasn’t that just a sight.” Suguru practically purred. 

Gojo turned his head to look at him, raising a single eyebrow in response. 

Geto huffed with a smile on his face, the plastic bag full of snacks rustling as he set them on the floor. He stepped forward into the room, reaching for his zipper.

“Come now, Kitty. Open wide for me.”

[awrkive]

hey hey!! congrats on almost 1k and 2k for cn&bl <33 here i am again obsessed w the cn&bl couple! could i please request a drabble for them! maybe something super fluffy and a dash of smut 🫣 anything along the lines of them out in public or whatevs hahah

jk and oc’s relationship a secret no more LOLZIES (jk being completely down bad and being teased but in a friendly way??) any setting and time of the day! excited for anything you come up w, tysm!! <3

summary: cnbl!oc brings cnbl!jk lunch after his bb practice

wc: 1.8k

note: no smut but its super cute ))))))))))): this ask has been in my inbox for so long im really sorrry for only getting to it now 😭 nonetheless i hope u guys enjoy

‼️FULL FIC HERE

The tuna sandwich you made two weeks ago surprisingly became a favorite of Jungkook, which you didn't see coming, because he was a good cook (he truly did prove you wrong) and you were a shit one in comparison. To be fair, making a sandwich isn't totally cooking but you still season the tuna and that was cooking in your opinion but anyway, Jungkook loved it so much he kept on asking you for it whenever he came over.

Never had anyone validated your cooking before, only Jungkook, and you couldn't lie and say it didn't boost your ego whenever he ate it almost rather enthusiastically, and then kissed you sweetly (albeit smelling like tuna) and saying thank you with that adorable smile of his.

So today, you may have accidentally made five tuna sandwiches and bought way too much Chinese food that is anything but for individual consumption. Because today, you may be going to the gym to get lunch with Jungkook on his break.

[12:30pm] You: It's your lunch break, right? Are you still practicing?

[12:32pm] Kook🐰: hi baby we finished just now it'slunch break i go to class at 2pm

[12:32pm] Kook🐰: have u eaten should we get lunch together

[12:35pm] Kook🐰: i got starbucks coupon yesterdat👺

[12:35pm] Kook🐰: yesteeday

[12:35pm] Kook🐰: yesterday

[12:35pm] You: I'm coming to the gym

Turning off your phone after that brief exchange, you tiptoed a little to spot the gym.

It was almost crazy to think that once upon a time you've never stepped a foot in there, but nowadays it has become almost like a routine, no thanks to constantly hanging out with Jungkook. And it wasn't just you going to his "thing", either, it was also him fetching you from the publication office or bringing you food there.

It's a rather big shift from keeping your relationship a secret to everyone else from… effortlessly flaunting it to everybody. But no, you wouldn't really call it flaunting. Flaunting meant you have every intention to make everyone know, but that wasn't the case for you both. Not at all. It was more of like: "They see us, then they see us. Who cares?" and personally it was hard to not care the first few weeks, especially when you would hear your name from the girls' gossips in the women's comfort room. But the talks died down eventually and finally, no one cares now about the girl Jungkook's hanging out with.

Anyhow, it was nice to not… hide anymore. Or pretend that you didn't know each other in the hallways. Jungkook liked it as much. You think.

As you reach the gym, you see Taehyung near the entrance door. It looks like he just changed out of his jersey, his fringes wet.

"Hi," you greet, waving at him.

"Oh, __, hey," Taehyung looks up from his phone to look at you then grins. "Jungkook's inside." He says, gesturing with his thumb. His eyes train to the lunch bag in your hand and the familiar plastic bag of a Chinese restaurant across the street. Wiggling his eyebrows, he teases, "Is that for him? Sweet."

You immediately roll your eyes at that. "Shut up, Tae."

Additionally, one of the big shifts in your life the past few months was finding a close friend in Jungkook's friends. Taehyung and you have been getting closer these days, enough for you to comfortably exchange sarcastic remarks about each other. Turns out, he was an extremely fun guy to be around and get this, he knows Letterboxd. How cool is that! (Though he still really holds that time you didn't show up at your coffee hang against you. He brings it up every single time and you'd have to treat him to a cafe some weeks.)

Taehyung laughs and brings his hands up, jokingly surrendering. "Kidding, kidding. He's waiting for you inside. Gotta go, though. 1pm class."

You nod. "See you around, Tae."

You thought he was gonna go scram but he looked at you one last time and said, "Don't do anything funny in there."

Heat goes through your body, settling to your cheeks. Taehyung really gets on your nerves, it makes so much sense that he was close friends with Jungkook.

"Shut up, I hate you and Hyerin deserves so much better." You say spitefully, referring to the woman he's been going on dates with recently, rolling your eyes once again as Taehyung just laughed his ass off, walking further away.

Ugh. You really wish he didn't walk in on you and Jungkook three days ago. To be fair, Jungkook forgot to lock his room (again!) when you were fooling around and Taehyung was a neanderthal who didn't know how to knock. So cue Taehyung joking about it whenever the opportunity came.

"Hey!"

You turn around to see Jungkook jogging towards you, still in his jersey with a towel hanging around his neck. Some of his team mates are also hanging around the benches. As if just having noticed you as well, they wave at you and say a chorus of "Hi"s and "What's up, __"s which you returned with a smile and a greeting back.

Jungkook greets you personally with a wet kiss on the lips.

"Hi, pretty."

"Hey, you," You greet back, swiping his bangs off his forehead. You quickly retreat. "You're so sweaty. Wipe your forehead."

Jungkook does it so. "Done." he looks down at the things you've got in your hand. "You brought me lunch?" He says, a grin plastered all over his face.

You hold your arms up with the bags. "Yeah. Chinese and tuna sandwiches. I thought we could eat here or something."

His grin only spreads wider at your words, and you can only mirror his smile. He was so smily today.

"You mean your tuna sandwiches? Fuck, I could kiss you right now. Thank you." He says enthusiastically, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to the bleachers.

You followed him and you settled on your usual spot where you've eaten one of your lunches before. It was quite far away from the area where the other guys were seated.

"It's nothing. I made a lot this morning because my classes got canceled." You say, unzipping the lunch bag with the sandwiches in it. You give him one and open another yourself, taking out the pack of mayo to put it in between the bread.

"Hm, fuck, these are so good. Seriously. You should start a food business." Jungkook comments, munching on the sandwich.

You chuckle. "No, what the hell. I need to have a variety in the menu if I start something. I just can't sell sandwiches."

Jungkook shrug. "Eh, it could be like a special thing. __ Sandwich Exclusive Cafe. Something like that. Or just post these online, I'll go tell my friends about it and you'll get rich in a week. I have a celebrity friend."

Your laughter becomes louder, shoulders moving up and down.

"You sound like a crypto scammer that way. You should've started with, "Are you open-minded?" and that would've sold me."

Jungkook snorts at that, grabbing another sandwich from the bag. You take a dumpling from the take-out and extended it to his mouth, which he opens to take the food you offered him.

"If dad cuts me off completely I'll be one of those crypto dudes on Twitter, so you're not totally wrong."

You both laugh at that, with you pushing him slightly on his bicep.

"Well, I'll help you scam people, then. I'll be the one commenting on your tweets and vouching for your legitimacy."

Jungkook nods, pretending like he was thinking about it. "Hm. Or I can start an OnlyFans if it fails so that I can still give you your boba everyday."

You can't help but giggle.

"You know I always appreciate your sacrifice. Maybe we can start a Pornhub channel if I couldn't get admitted to law school."

Jungkook lets out a "tsk!". "Don't say that. With the way you study, you'll be overqualified." It was his turn to give you a dumpling then, which you ate just as quickly as he offered it. Jungkook smiles as he watches you chew on it. "But if it counts, I won't be opposed to us starting a Pornhub channel."

You search through the Chinese take out bags again to find your fried rice. As you did so, you opened it, not forgetting to reply to Jungkook and looking at him as you say, "Well, I'll have to practice my porn moan for that."

And just as soon as you said that you knew he already had something dirty to utter, and he doesn't fail you.

"Maybe we can practice tonight…" He said, voice intentionally going octave deeper.

You chuckle at his predictability.

"I knew you were gonna say that."

Before he could deny how predictable he was or brag about how quick-witted he was, you heard a bunch of footsteps on the court.

"Hey, Jeon! We're going!" Says one guy, looking at you both.

Jungkook turns to look at them and shouts back, "Yeah, see you around, Mingyu!"

"__!" They call you.

When you looked at them, they nodded, ready to leave, announcing their departure so you wave at them goodbye.

When they were out of sight, you asked Jungkook, "Hey, what's that about your Starbucks coupon?"

As if remembering something, Jungkook's eyes widened a little as he takes his phone from his pocket. "Oh, yeah I got one yesterday. Here." He looked inside his phone case and took out a card.

You leaned down to study it curiously, reading the benefits of the card holder getting a $50 token.

"Ohh, that's amazing! How'd you get this? I want one too."

Jungkook let you take the card and looked at it with you. "I don't really know, the barista just gave me this after I got some latte."

Oh. Hm. Interesting. You bet it was a woman barista.

"Hmm."

Jungkook shrugs. "It's probably because I gave her the exact amount of the payment in cash. I don't know."

Her. Exactly. She was probably the same barista who always looked at Jungkook funny whenever you two came there. She had an obvious crush and you couldn't really blame her. But it was funny, that Jungkook thought it was because he gave the exact amount of payment in cash the barista decided to give him a gift card. You would think his lowkey fuckboy ways would tell him that a woman likes him, but he was so clueless sometimes. If you were honest to yourself, you'd admit it was cute.

"You can be so clueless at times, Kook." You say, patting his shoulder.

"Huh?" He looks at you with that wide eyes of his, and boy, he really doesn't suspect a thing.

You shake your head. "Nothing."

You pat his head and Jungkook squints his eyes at you. You laugh at the little exchange and Jungkook's hand extends up to hold yours up his face and you tried to pull back, giggling, thinking he was gonna do something gross like bite your hand but he only presses his mouth to your palm, holding it against his face.

You smile. Soft and gentle.

"Dinner later at my place?" Jungkook says.

You nod.

It was hard to deny someone who makes your heart go all weird when he looked at you like that.

"Sure."

all rights reserved © AWRKIVE , 2023

[erenspussy420]

Oh well like for crewel and Crowley (seperately )x Latina reader

Rivals to lovers

Soulmate au

Fluff plz

Sorry this took too long to finish but hopefully you like it!

1.8K words

Fem Reader

SFW (However my blog isn't so you have been warned.)

......

......

Soulmates, a rather direct term for something so vital in the lives of Twisted Wonderland. There is a reason for the plural, instead of the singular term. For one does not have one soulmate but rather two, so to speak, a rival or an enemy many say in your life. And the other as many would garner the true soulmate, the true love.

A touching sentiment, knowing somewhere out there is the other part of you waiting to reunite in the vast sea of life. Those who will understand the depth of who you are and you in turn peek into their heart of hearts. Even the most bitter of men and women, crave that companionship.

At least it would be should you actually know which side is which. The citizens of the world tried to figure it out, taking guesses but to the dismay of many it seems that it is not as direct at times. It made a rather interesting story about how one meets their true soulmate, and their hated sworn enemy.

In some cases, they were the same person!

Some lament at such the idea of having their arms confuse them, some don’t mind and seem to relish having an enemy, some finding the way to find true love a challenge, but all agree they rather have both names than none—-

Unlike these poor souls whose arms will stay bare.

.

.

Dire Crowley: 

‘It doesn’t bother him, not one bit!’ He proclaims, as he tugs over his sleeves. A big fat fucking lieeeee. Anyone can see or rather pityingly watch the rather pathetic display when it's the annual staff parties, and Crowley drinking himself into the bottle.

Woe is poor Dire! Arms care to the world, no name on either one. Not even a smidge! He always keeps his arms covered in long sleeves, as he could anyway. Summer’s are a challenge for him, he tends to overheat quite easily regardless of his ice magic. He looks longingly at those bright hideous Pleasure Island shirts.

When he’s alone, he rolls up his sleeves and looks at them forlorn. He is a fae raven, and for so many years it's been lonely. It's not uncommon that sometimes a fae and a human or beastman will be soulmates, usually they appear as they are born, but Crowley has yet to see any ink paint his smooth skin after a decade of waiting…and waiting….

He has been practicing making a nest, so leave the man alone when he steals your shit.

Until one day, the day he yearns for came true. It was during the opening ceremony, did he feel a hot sensation climb up his arm. It was so strong, he practically kneeled over, grabbing onto it as it glowed bright like copper, and once it died, it left a singular name in cursive letters. He couldn’t believe it! You were here! You were finally here! 

Crowley is laughing, crowing up a storm that the housewardens and newcomers felt wary and a bit scared as Crowley hugs his students, twirling them around. He would kiss their cheeks if it wasn’t for the fact that can be counted as harassment and most of these ruffians have claws.

Happy day! Happy day! He had noticed it's the same name for both sides. Oh dear, but it didn’t matter because as of this day, he wasn’t alone! ….Oh…Oh dear, there was quite the commotion, quite the ruckus! Nothing can damper his mood! Not even a cat setting everything on fire and a magicless human!

Then he catches your name, and oh dear….the headmaster had frozen stiff…until your gaze is now covered in feathers and a man sobbing into your arms crying "how beautiful you are!" And "thank the Sevens! I waited for so long! So long to bask in your gaze!”---while you’re yelling in spanish about the crazy bird man, smacking him with his own shoe.

Truly a beautiful sight you have finally arrived! So much so that Trein had to take over since Crowley hasn’t stopped trying to preen your hair and crying into hair.

Once he finally gets himself in control, does his actual duties as a headmaster and deal with the fact you are not of Twisted Wonderland and from another world completely. He’s totally working on a way home— just let him get to know you as he does.

He catches himself staring too long at you. He can’t help it, he’s waited for you for so long! Every curve, every angle of your face makes his breath hitch. You have a bold look to you, confident and with a loud laugh that adds more to your charm.

Oh when he pisses you off, he can tell the second the house is filled with the scent of roasted dried chilies. Cue Crowley wheezing.

He does try to learn the Spanish you speak, wanting to learn more about you and the culture you hail from. Its rather sweet, even if you were teaching him swear words at first.

You have a big sense of community, his soulmate is so generous! Which does make him pout as he watches you, mother hen some of his troublemakers by putting the fear of God into them. 

Though he does like how you bring him into a dance in the kitchens, teaching him the simple steps of dances that have him being twirled around in your arms.

Adding into the second role of being a soulmate, you have pushed Crowley into being more active with his students, something most of his staff has thanked you for. As you were working on your master’s before being run down by the horses in the middle of Los Angeles. 

Even working harder than before, Crowley is utterly in love with his soulmate.

Crewel Divus:

“Hm? I see your eyes seem to find my arms rather fascinating, little pup?” The corner’s of his lips quirk in amusement, but the sharpness of his gray blue eyes made his students squeak. It was one of those rare times, Divus had his sleeves rolled over his arms, letting his unruly pups finally take a gander at who their professor soul mate could be. Most, however, made bets if Crowley was his enemy.

But it was bare and pale, the gawking student had found their mouth shut by the aid of a familiar whip pushing up their chin. “Hm, since you seem so fond of being idle, I can keep you busy,” a loud thwap of his whip smacking his gloved hand,” Detention, cauldron duty.”

As a young youth he was rebellious and scrappy in all the ways that come with being a teenager. Always in fashion regardless of how he looks, however it is noted his arms are bare to the world and Divus doesn't care what the world thinks of his unfortunate status.

Frankly, Divus pushes on the importance of it, he hates what it brings on him with expecting eyes and unlike Crowley who hides it— Divus will make you see he doesn't care about what the world thinks. As far as he is concerned, Crewel is standing here with or without a soulmate to his name. With or without you, Divus Crewel is not to be pitied.

Though, it cannot be said he hasn’t beaten a loud mouth punk twice or thrice when entering NRC.

Growing up however, after getting through his angst and anger, Divus accepts it. Maybe he traces over where the name of the person who can push him to capabilities, caresses the bare arm that was supposed to be his soul companion ... .and it takes his dogs covering him to bring him out of that stupor. 

He’s obsessive in a way that isn’t easily noticeable, something that reflects in his own outfits, his black and white outfits having a missing half in cufflinks, buttons, or belts. There is a way he walks, still poise and confident that seems to make space for someone who is supposed to be there. One has made the mistake of taking the second glass he has set aside—purposefully or not.

The day you finally had come into his life with a bang, literally as he can describe the sudden burning sensation in his arms that evening, Crewel had finally set up his room. The burst of such power had him kneel over, gripping the sides of his vanity so harshly he broke a chunk of it in his bare hands. It was as if something was being carved into him, not his skin he didn’t notice that but his own soul has been molded.  In a hurry, he rips up his sleeve, his cufflinks flying to the corners of his room but that didn’t matter.

His soulmate is here.

Oh when he first meets you, he takes you in. All of you, from the shade of your hair, to the curve of your eyes, the features of what makes you–you. Each note, his mind is already building up the things he can create for you.

You are nothing he expected but that is what thrills him. 

What his eyes picked up was your clothes. Well made, and tailored, stylish with personal flares. A fellow fashionista!

The second he brings you to his workshop, he knows—he knows now that all those cliche romance novels he reads when he’s fully alone means it clicks. 

He loves the embroidery of your culture that is prevalent in every outfit you make. Bright colors of – pinks, greens, yellows and reds. Everything you make has this brightness to it, eye-catching and so utterly full of pride.

There is a way you speak that is also so different from the Spanish variant he is used to, its more playful, relaxed and a bit cocky.

He’s careful in making sure you settle in Twisted Wonderland, while trying so hard not to prod you for too many questions. Though he does admit, he lingers nearby when he hears you sing in Spanish, the grin you have as you sing something he knows is pretty dirty as it seems the Shaftlands share the latin roots as you call it with French in your world. So don’t think he doesn’t know when you're cursing under your breath!

But he does admire the arsenal of insults you seem to throw on the fly when angered. He saved a video of you perfectly tearing off your sandals to throw it at Crowley for ditching his duties on you both. Three seconds is impressive.

Your fashion taste and his tend to clash, but he loves the way you make your canvas come alive during fashion shows he got you to join in. But the second you and him collaborate on a fashion line together, he sees that drive in you that makes him want to chase.

[junnieverse]

GET HIM BACK ! ➳ S. JAEYUN

➙ synopsis: despite having ended things with jake you were conflicted between hating the man and loving him all in one. you missed all the happy memories between the two of you but it was even harder to forget all the hurt he put you through. revenge is best served sweet, maybe it's time you get him back!

pairing: jake sim x afab!reader

genre: angst, a tinge of fluff, fwbs to lovers to exes au

word count: 1.8k

warnings: not proofread, mentions of alcohol/drinking, hinted infidelity, swearing

a/n: we've made it halfway..? well there's 3 members left so this is great progress, please don't forget to check out the other members oneshots too and reblogs are highly appreciated, mwah <33

— GUTS X ENHYPEN SERIES MASTERLIST !

You had no intention of doing what you just did, if anything, you were just as shocked as Jake was in this moment.

Looking at the cream on your hands, you give your finger a lick as you hum in satisfaction at the good sugary taste.

But how did you get here in the first place? Why were you and your friends crashing your ex's birthday party and how did Jake Sim end up with an entire cake thrown at his face?

Simple, he broke your heart and you wanted to get revenge and boy did you get him good.

You had met Jake in the summer of 2021 at a party you had went to with a couple of friends and he was more than obviously trying to hook up but you weren't one to easily give in.

"How about I get you a drink in exchange for a dance with you?" he says as he bit his lower lip briefly raising an eyebrow and you couldn't deny how attractive the man was.

You let the boy chase after you for a bit before you gave in and decided to start a consentual friends with benefits relationship.

Like most it ended with feelings being caught and you both agreed to officially start going out as a couple not long after.

Jake was not only funny and smart but he sure was the life of the party everywhere he went.

There was never a night you went out together be it to a club, bar or house party and atleast one person wouldn't approach him claiming to know him from somewhere.

Despite being such a peoples person, Jake usually liked staying with his usual group of friends, yeah they were a little more chaotic and weird than what you were used to but they were just as fun to be around.

"Wait didn't your friend say he was 6'0 feet tall?" you ask Jake with a drink in your hand as he had his arms comfortably draped around your waist as you were seated on his lap.

"He is, why?" he asks you looking over at Sunghoon playing beer pong across the room.

Letting out a tsk you look at your boyfriend before shaking your head, "Jake you told me you were 6'2 and Hoon is clearly taller than you. Nice try dude." to which Jake scratches the back of his neck laughing at the fact that he so obviously got caught.

It was a great relationship, you felt like you were always having the time of your life with Jake but he wasn't the best partner either.

"Uhm (y/n), isn't that Jake over there..?" your best friend says beside you whispering over the loud music.

Across the room you spot him talking to your very clearly uncomfortable friend who was trying to get away from Jake who was flirting with her.

You had heard countless rumours about Jake's playboy ways.

That was one of the main reasons you didn't want to date him in the first place but you had thought maybe he was done with that lifestyle and that he wanted to be in a serious committed relationship with you, but you were clearly wrong.

"What if he can change though, yeah it sounds crazy but maybe i can fix him." you would tell your friends during your get together as they laughed at what you had just said.

"(Y/n), you can't just 'fix' people, I'm sure even you realise that but you're in denial. Let him go, Jake is never gonna change." one of them says in response as the others agree with hums and nods.

Maybe if you had just listened to them back then, all of this heartbreak would've been avoided.

He had played you multiple times now but everytime you would confront Jake about it, he couldn't seem to spot anything he had done wrong and would never apologise for his actions or even acknowledge how he hurt your feelings.

Instead, he would shower you with all these unnecessary gifts to try and win you over, the one that takes the cup had to be the time he flew you to France after he forgot your anniversary and stood you up during you date.

Come Spring of 2022, things between you and Jake seemingly fizzled out after you realised you had had enough and your friends were right.

There was no reason for you to stay with someone who couldn't prioritise you.

Jake had an ego bigger than his head, a very bad temper and a wandering eye, this relationship was bound to fall in the eyes of others from the very beginning but you still gave it a chance.

"This is the third time this week you're writing him a letter. Girl stand up. You need to detox this man out of your system." your best friend grabs the paper from your table looking at the cruched up papers inside your trashcan next to you.

You just couldn't help yourself.

You... missed Jake.

From the way he would hold and kiss you to the places he would take you but you knew how disappointed your friends would be if they were to ever hear you say you miss your toxic ex boyfriend.

Hell you would be disappointed too.

This was a man that pretty much played you for months.

He would sweet talk his way into your heart and tell you that you were the only girl but that was never true.

You were just another fling to Jake and it hurt, how was he doing so okay living his best life and you were here sulking over him wishing things could've been different between the two of you.

"Would you bail me out if i were to key his car?" you lean on your folded arms across the table as your best friend plopped on your bed.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that. I thought we went over this that day you tried calling his mom. Why did you want to call her anyway?" she asks lifting up her head to look at you as you giggled softly thinking about it.

"I wanted to tell her that her son sucks." you respond as she laughs alongside you now realising how funny that probably would've been had you went through it.

"Fuck him honestly." you said standing up from your chair as you felt the anger boiling inside of you at the thought of your past relationship.

Not only were you obviously mad at Jake but you were mad at yourself, because why did you feel so sad over missing him.

"This is gonna sound wild, but I have the craziest idea." you say looking at Jake's instagram story before looking up to your friend who was telling you to go on.

Which now brings you to your current predicament in this moment.

You gathered up your group of friends and dressed to the nines getting ready to head out to Jake's party he had posted on his story.

You knew it wasn't the most rational decision to make going to your ex's birthday celebration to ruin it but if it's one thing your relationship with Jake taught you, it was living on the edge… which also included making bad decisions along the way.

"(Y/n)… w-what are you doing here?" Jake stutters approaching you not acknowledging your friends beside you as he gives you a one look admiring your outfit.

That was your step one of your plan, to look completely irresistible at this party and simply make heads turn and even more, Jake would be drooling at the sight of you.

"It's your birthday silly, what, you thought i wouldn't show up after we broke up?" you ask him rhetorically as you get closer to him leaving a soft peck on his jaw knowing that was one of his soft spots.

As civil as you were being right now, you were holding back everything in you to not kiss uppercut him in the face because that would ruin everything.

You didn't have much planned to begin with, you just knew showing up to this party glowing would push Jake over the edge and irk him and that was enough to satisfy you.

All you wanted to do was to make him feel jealous and you wanted him to feel bad for ever hurting you, 'operation: get him back!' your friends called it.

But soon everything took an entire 180.

"I think we should head out now, this party is kinda boring." your friend says seeming as though she was in a rush to leave as her eyes keep shifting to look behind you.

Turning around to look where her eyes were, you catch Jake with his arms around a girl as they danced in the middle of the dance floor.

"Well how about we make the party a bit more fun then." you tell her with a devilish smile as you look around the room and spot the untouched birthday cake on a table nearby.

Gently lifting the cake making sure to not drop it despite being slightly (very) intoxicated, you walk up to Jake giving his shoulder a small tap as he turned around to face you and before you both knew it Jake was covered in cake.

All you could do was let out a small laugh in pure shock at what had happened as everyone around you stood in just as much shock.

"Happy birthday Jake." you tell him sweetly still very much moving based off your drunk decisions right now.

Jake on the other hand was still processing the fact that he just got caked in the face at his birthday party not only in front of all his friends but his ex did it.

"Uhh, I think now would be a good time for us to get out of here." your one friend whispers pulling your arm seeing as you were unmoving.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you ran out the house with your friends, turning back around you notice a flabbergasted Jake wiping the cake off his face yelling for you to get back as he screamed a bunch of profanities leaving the room quiet.

"I guess you were right. I did need to detox him out and getting revenge was the perfect way. He's gonna love me and hate me at the same time." you say as you got into the car as your friend in the driver's seat speedily drove further away from the party.

"I didn't know you had that in you. That was insane." one of them says giving you a high five as she watches the recording she got of the entire ordeal.

Revenge was indeed best served sweet.

SERIES TAGLIST: @enhastolemyheart @jungwonscafe @firstclassjaylee @jennaissera

[hamiltonaf]

Party Aftermath | Mason Mount

Pairing: Mason Mount x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warning: Angst but more fluff

A/N: Slowly trying to get into writing more for football players - been writing for F1 drivers for quite a long time, so I have a nice balance between the 2 now. Hope you guys enjoy and do let me know your thoughts .xx

The first stop of the summer break was Ibiza. All of his mates were onboard with the idea of going to Ibiza first, some of their girlfriends even tagged along. The first few days I was more than happy to enjoy letting loose and partying with Mason and his friends, I actually deserved it for all the sacrifices I made for my studies during the year.

By the 3rd day of partying I just didn't have it in me...I would much prefer chilling at the beach, but right now that wasn't on the agenda until everyone is burned out. Tonight happens to be even bigger than the previous ones because Martin Garrix is performing. As exciting as it sounds, I was mentally and physically exhausted from being on my feet 24/7, sleep deprivation and dehydration.

With everyone's sleeping pattern being off, we happened to wake up in the evening. I guess it works in everyone else’s favour because that means to get ready to go for the next party. Luckily Mason and I had a room to ourselves, and weren’t sharing a villa so it was nice and peaceful when I got up before him. I had a nice soothing shower and got comfy in a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. I sat crisscrossed on the lounge couch and browsed through my laptop for something to binge.

"Good morninggg" he greeted as he walked out of the room in a pair of denim shorts and a towel around his neck. "Oh good morning ! Slept well ?" I asked as I turned to look at him. "Like a baby" he laughed. "I could tell" I added and laughed back. "Aren't you coming tonight ?" He asked as he sat next to me on the couch and peeked at my laptop screen. He could tell that something is up.

"Yeahh...Uhm, I don't think I'm gonna go out tonight" I said hesitantly. "Why what's wrong ?" He asked concerned as he placed his head on my shoulder, already dampening my shirt with his wet hair. "Nothing just..I'm really drained and don't have the energy to go out again tonight" I pouted. "Okay then, suits you" he said casually and got up to walk back to the room. Is he annoyed ? "What do you mean by that ?" I asked, more specifically at the tone he said it and followed him into the room. "You came to Ibiza of all places to 'relax', a bit of a party pooper don’t you think ?" he mocked. Is he being serious right now ?

"Am I hearing correctly that you're mocking me for being burned out and I'm not allowed to recover ?" I raised a brow as I crossed my arms over my chest. "You’re not the only one that’s burned out, look at the rest of us, we’re just dealing with it." he said as he sat at the edge of the bed and leaned back. "Mason, you already know that it's not in my nature to go out partying. This is all new to me and I'm not used to this life" I reasoned. "Yeah well I'm not forcing you either, it's just that the boys and their girlfriends will be there. I'm going to look a bit dumb if my girlfriend isn't there so.." he shrugged. Oh my days.

“Are you being serious right now ? Since when do you care what other people think ? And how can you even compare me to other peoples girlfriends ? I- I'm so done with this conversation, it's like I'm talking to a wall right now…You're totally ignoring where I'm coming from. Enjoy your stupid party" I said with a fake smile before making my way back to the lounge. "(Y/N) !" he yelled for me but I chose to ignore him.

After some time it was slowly getting darker by the minute as the sun was setting. Mason finally stepped foot out of the room fully dressed, he threw on a black t-shirt and sneakers to pair with his denim shorts. I started watching a new series and was so engrossed in it that I purposely didn't see Mason standing in front of me. It was much longer than he would've liked for me to be caught by his attention but oh well. He cleared his throat as an indication for me to look at him. Me being petty, I continued watching my series. "I'm leaving. If you need anything then message Dec, he'll be sober tonight" he said softly. After no reply back from me, he rolled his eyes. “Did you even hear a word that I just said ?” He asked annoyed. I shut my laptop and looked at him “No Mason, I’m totally ignoring every word you said like you did to me earlier.” He remained silent for about a minute before shaking his head and making his way out.

As much as I tried to push the thought of Mason away, I didn’t succeed. I wasn’t even paying attention the the series at this point. Out of curiosity I went onto Instagram and the first story that popped up was Declan’s. It was a video of Mason taking shots, how lovely that I will have to deal with him when he’s drunk and hungover. It low-key hurt to watch the video, it just showed that he really didn’t care. I sighed and looked at the time, it was already 11:30pm and I felt so stiff from sitting down for so many hours. My eyes were feeling heavy and at this point I couldn’t be bothered to walk to the bedroom so I passed out on the couch.

Sound asleep until 2:15 am, there was a loud banging on our door. What a rude awakening. I hurried to the door to see Declan trying his best to hold up Mason with one arm whilst he was half knocked out. "I believe this is yours" he half laughed. "You woke me up from my deep sleep for a drunk Mason ?" I said annoyed. "I didn't have much of a choice, he wouldn’t stop asking where you were. Besides...he's not even that drunk" he stifled. "You're saying that and he's literally passed out" I raised a brow. "He's honestly exhausted from dancing and screaming. He had about like 3 shots" he said as he was starting to struggle holding him up. "You sure there wasn’t more after that instagram story of yours cut off ?" I stifled a laugh. "Oh I'm sure, I was with him the whole time. Now can you take him, I'm dying here" he said as Mason was almost about to fall.

"You want me to get a bottle of water to wake him up ? I’ll casually just chuck it at his face" I suggested. "You're honestly crazy" he said as he shook his head and laughed. "Oii, wake up. Here's (Y/N)" he tapped his face. He slowly gained consciousness and fluttered his eyes to look at me. "Wow you're pretty" Mason said in awe as he looked at me and stumbled to walk inside. "I'll take my leave. Good luck and let me know if you need anything !" Declan yelled as he was leaving. "Sure. Thanks for babysitting Dec !" I yelled and shut the door. I turned around to see Mason almost lose his balance and fall. "Room. Now" I said as I pointed to the open room door for him. He looked at me like a lost puppy for a second, with a pout he stumbled his way to the room. He looked like a toddler.

I grabbed a bottle of water and a pain killer before making my way to the room. He sat at the edge of the bed waiting eagerly for me. "Take this and drink the whole bottle" I said as I handed him the water and tablet. He looked confused for a second but obliged. After he was done, I threw away the empty bottle and thought it's time he should just sleep. I started by pulling at his t-shirt but he quickly pushed my hands away. What the hell. "Hey you're pretty and all but I have a girlfriend !" He said in disgust. I covered my hand over my mouth to hide my laugh. "Mason, I am your girlfriend" I said as I pressed my lips together. "Ohh. How did I get so lucky ?" He said as he stared at me whilst I continued to remove his t-shirt. I couldn't help but smile to myself. “I love seeing you smile” he said softly when I took off his t-shirt and folded it aside. He’s such a softie when he’s drunk.

He kicked off his shoes and got under the covers. Me being a neat freak, I placed his shoes aside with the others and turned around to find him sleeping. Just as I was about to go to the lounge to tidy up the place and switch the lights off, Mason called for me. "(Y/N) ! Come to bed" he whined.

Well so much for thinking he's sleeping. I quickly tidied up and yet again he called my name. Once I got under the covers, my back faced him when suddenly his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer towards him. "I'm sorry for earlier. I feel that I don't see you as much because you're studying so I just want to make every moment we have together count. I was selfish" he muffled softly against my neck. After a moment of silence he whined, “Babe” before I turned around in his grip to face him. "It's okay, likewise I want to spend as much time with you as possible. Just know that some days we can stay in and still have fun. We don't always have to go out" I softly said back.