#THE STARING AT THEIR HANDS BEING SEPARATED

[hxnbi]

⸻ ❀°。❝ SHORT STACK ❞

requested by @kuppuru: furin boys + togame with short reader

pairings. hajime umemiya, hayato suo, haruka sakura, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita, jo togame x gn. reader (separate)

note: tysm for your request! sorry if it took so long to write, i was suffering with exams but im finally free now. this goes to all my fellow short ppl out there 🫡 i also just wanted an excuse to find these goofy photos of my boys lmao

𝄞 ─ HAJIME UMEMIYA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

What do you mean by that? You’re his significant other and that's all that matters! If anything, that only makes you even more adorable!

UMEMIYA's natural inclination to be clingy and protective intensifies tenfold when he's around you. As you often find yourself enveloped in his arms, whether it's at home, out for a walk, or even at a crowded event. He towers over you, using his height—and admittedly effective intimidation tactics, thanks to him being the leader of Furin—to shield you from the world’s troubles. 

"Up we go!" he jokes, effortlessly picking you up from out of nowhere and spinning you around like a merry-go-round carousel.

“Ume?!” you yelp in surprise.

Without realizing it, his face lights up like a neon sign, and he lets out a loud, joyful laugh. You’re so sweet! How could he not adore you?

Umemiya goes into press his lips against your cheek and buries his face in your neck. "You’re my perfect little charm." His laughter and love are almost infectious. 

Umemiya’s protectiveness doesn’t just stop at physical proximity, but extends to every aspect of your life. He’s always looking out for you, making sure no one dares to mess with you (not that anyone with a half-functioning nervous system would, anyway). Your height didn’t matter and will never matter to him, not when he sees you as his perfect partner and his other half, just the way you are.

𝄞 ─ HAYATO SUO ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Without a doubt in my mind, SUO's a person who's all for teasing you. In fact, he revels in it. Even after calling the relationship official, Suo’s playfulness doesn’t stop. Rather, it only increases with time. Suo is all for teasing you about your height, flaunting his own height difference with that characteristic closed-eye smirk of his.

“Oh dear, do you perhaps need help?” he teases, pointing at something on a high shelf with one hand while the other resting at his back. “Would you like me to get you a ladder?” he asks 'kindly,' making you deadpan.

Suo finds your petite stature irresistibly cute, and he never misses a chance to remind you of it. But, to the surprise of nobody, like everything else in his life, he’s not as shamelessly open about it in public as opposed to in private. Rather, I see Suo bringing your height up when you least expect it, in hopes of getting a reaction from you recorded in his mind.

Though his teasing is always good-natured, Suo knows your boundaries well. He can tell when you're uncomfortable, especially around others. That alone is enough to make Suo's usual mischievous brows furrow, and he stares down whoever dares to cross the line, especially when he's around. His protective instincts kick in without hesitation. That, despite his constant banter, it’s clear that he adores you deeply, his eyes filled with warmth and affection so unlike his public persona that he discloses to the world.

𝄞 ─ HARUKA SAKURA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Okay, and? What about it? Who the fuck cares? He’ll just deal with anyone if they even dare to give you shit about it. SAKURA's nonchalant attitude towards your height is evident. He couldn't care less what others think, and he's ready to put anyone in their place if they dare to give you any trouble about it.

"If anyone has a problem with your height, they’ll have to deal with me," he barked, a protective arm around your shoulders. "And trust me, they won't like it.”

Nirei and Suo could only deadpan in unison seeing this. ‘He’s just a big softie…’ they both thought.

Regardless, his feelings for you don’t change. Sakura has also been through a lot. The people who berated and made fun of him due to things he didn’t have control over—his unconventional appearance—why do they care? Why should someone ever care? He understands how it feels to be judged for superficial reasons and is fiercely protective of you because of it. As for you? You felt warm, knowing he always has your back. 

Your height has nothing to do with who you are as a person, and he’s learning that, step by step. He’s always ready to defend you, ensuring you never have to go through the pain and ridicule he did, and not just because of your height, something you never had a peace or sovereignty over. Perhaps, he sees a bit of himself in you.

𝄞 ─ REN KAJI ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

Doesn't treat you any differently. And why should he? Is there some kind of top-secret reason that he's unaware of? Why should such a thing as height matter in his relationship? Dude grills his vice-captain Kusumi to get the full story, until he realizes that there is none. Tch, do you think he cares about bullcrap like that? Well suck it up, you shouldn't and never have to worry about such an outrageous thing.

KAJI continues to be his calm and composed self (when he isn’t blasting music until his ears bled), offering you the same level of respect and affection as always. Because, after all, "Why would your height change anything about how I feel?" he scoffed, putting back his headphones and closing the conversation right there, making you crack a smile at how matter-of-fact he was. 

Kaji’s grounded nature makes you feel secure. Height, weight, appearance, all those superficial aspects of a person doesn’t matter to him. It never did, because you never judged him for how he was. All he's doing is returning the favour to the one he one he loves, nothing more.

…So why are you looking at him with those sparkling eyes like he just found a cure for cancer?

𝄞 ─ KYOTARO SUGISHITA ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

SUGISHITA is in the same boat as Kaji, and, in actuality, it’s even more pronounced, as, while Sugishita doesn’t say a word, he’s quietly observant. Your height is just another characteristic to him that he loves in you, nothing that affects his feelings or how he treats you.

He is but a silent trooper that stands at your side.  Admittedly, it gets funny at times, seeing the difference in height between you and Sugishita, apparently especially when walking side by side. But he doesn’t mind. To him, your height is just another thing that makes you uniquely you. And all with a stoic grunt and a subtle smile that he tries to hide, but the hearts in his eyes don’t disappear with such that. 

“They’re so cute, aren’t they? You just have to show it!!” Umemiya says. And show it, he does.

The way Sugishita pats your head and cheeks, similar to how Umemiya would to the same to him, is his way of expressing affection—all in the most awkward way possible, as Sakura would scoff while the trio of Suo, Nirei, and him would from a distance. 

“...The hell is he doing? Does he treat them like a puppy or something?"

“S-Sakura-san!! Y-You might want to—”

All Sugishita would see was red, and it wasn't just from Suo's hair. "YOU—"

But don’t let that fool you. The end was anything but pleasant, as yet another chair became a victim of Sugishita’s wrath, and was broken that exact day, much to the dismay of Umemiya. 

𝄞 ─ JO TOGAME ♪♩ ₊⁺ 𐫱

TOGAME's initial reaction to your height is one of surprise, with the way he would stare and drill holes into your skull, genuinely amazed at how someone could be so short and yet so oblivious, like you didn’t have a care in the world. But his curious stare quickly transforms into admiration. At first, you really thought that he was judging you, from the way his eyes would stare down at you for seemingly uncomfortable amounts of time, but to Togame, it was nothing more than fascination. You were so petite (to him), to the point of being even adorable… 

Togame ran his fingers through his locks of hair. Shit, if you ever knew.

His best friend Choji is a bit on the shorter side, sure, but you? You were like some kind of tiny sprite. Unbeknownst to you, he finds your petite stature almost endearing in a way. And unintentionally or not, takes it as an opportunity to be even more attentive and caring over you. Togame’s affection is shown through his actions, whether it's reaching for items you can’t, or holding your hand protectively in crowded places. Whether it’s out of a sense of curiosity or if he truly loves you, one thing is clear, he can't help but show his affection in every little gesture.

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

[starkeygirlposts]

Boyfriend turned Step-Bro Rafe Cameron x Reader

-----

FULL FIC HERE

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married.

This is a snippet of a fic I'm going to see if I want to continue writing. Please let me know if you'd like it to be continued.

I'm not diving too deep on details or character traits in this, as it's just a blurb/idea for a full fic.

Trigger warnings: stepcest, underage, drugs, pregnancy

----

The Rafe Cameron who became your boyfriend when you were sixteen years old was not the Rafe Cameron who people referred to your step-brother at eighteen.

The complete opposite, really.

Your parents separated when you were in your sophomore year of high school, your dad moving across the country to California when he met his mistress on a business trip while you and your mom kept a tidy home. The affair nearly killed your mom, and she learned to lean on none other than your boyfriends dad.

Ward was the perfect fill-in for your mom for a while. She was just having a good time, she'd told you. "He occupies my mind Y/N, does that make me such a bad mom?" Like you being upset with your mother being however which way involved with your boyfriends dad was so out-of-this-world believable. Truth was, yes it made her a bad mom. Not just because it put you and Rafe in an uncomfortable position, but because you were struggling yourself after having your family as you knew it blown apart.

But she wasn't just "having a good time." Or rather, maybe she was having too good a time. Because on a Thursday evening at the Cameron's dinner table that you all had gathered for, Ward held your moms hand and told you all that they were getting married.

That day, your world fell apart, and Rafe started to become someone you soon would not recognize. Rafe's hand slipped from your thigh, gone the tender loving warm fingertips, drawing lazy hearts on your skin.

You looked over at Rafe before doing or saying anything to anyone else, and his eyes were higher than yours, connecting with his father's in an expression you could only imagine was pure hatred. Because Rafe could never live up to his father in any sense, and now he was taking away the one thing that kept his feet planted to the earth. Of course he was. You flinched when Rafe's chair scraped like nails on the tile flooring, as he darted from the table outside to his truck, leaving you to pick up the pieces. How badly you'd wanted to chase after him. But when your eyes connected with Ward's, the decision made for you.

You didn't even need to ask.

"Unless you want to live with your father in California, you and Rafe will stop whatever it is you two have going on." Ward had told you.

You looked to your mom as if she'd help you - feel some semblance of remorse for you. You'd met Rafe first. Three years ago. You'd been the only reason your mother even met Ward. But why should you be so surprised that what she wanted was more important than your happiness?

From that day, Rafe started slowly slipping from you. A hollow shell of the boy you loved so deeply and painfully. He'd drink himself to sleep every Friday and Saturday night, breathe cocaine on the other nights, and wave you off when you tried to ask him to slow down.

"Y/N, you want me to stop? To make you happy? What do you do anymore that makes me happy?" You'd touch his cheek and guide his head down to make his eyes meet yours, and you'd stare into them - hoping for a shimmer of your boyfriend to snap back and remember.

He'd shrug away from you, his hand brushing you off and leave you watching his back as he'd resume slowly killing not only himself, but you too. But his coldness didn't stop him from sneaking into your room past midnight to have sex with you. Not that you wish he'd stop, because you so badly craved his touch, eager for it any way he'd offer it. Mean, rough, kind, tender; you'd take any of him just to feel connected.

So when you'd texted Rafe to meet you in your room after dinner on Thursday night nearly one year after your world truly blew apart, hoping you'd get to him before the white powder did, he locked the door behind him and the black in his eyes told you he'd already gotten his fix. But your small hand came up to his chest as he approached you, seated cross legged on your pink floral bed spread, clutching the stick in your other hand. You looked up at him and when you locked eyes, he understood, because he took your hand from his chest and squeezed it in his own before leaning down to touch his lips to yours.

"I miss you, baby. My beautiful girl."

His breath was hot against your mouth, his scent so familiar and home to you. You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your eyes, your hand loosening from his hand to hold onto his forearm that connected to the fingers clutching your jaw tenderly but firmly in place, kissing you like he loved you again.

How badly you missed him, too.

"Rafe, please..."

Your hand falls and his breaks from your jaw, and you take this moment to capture his hand with your fingers and place the stick into his palm. His eyes break away from yours to look down at what you've given him, and you watch with tears streaming down your face as his brows furrow, his feet shuffling to back up and you brace yourself.

He doesn't do what you expect him to do, though. He stares so deeply down into his palm that when his eyes do reconnect with yours, confusion in his own eyes, his head tilting just the slightest and you're trembling, waiting for the shoe to drop.

"This...this is a -- you're..." His eyes screw up shut and he shakes his head like he's imagining things and he's crazy. "A baby?" He finally asks, looking up at you again and you can only nod.

"My baby?" He asks again, and you nearly scoff, because really? Was he kidding? Who else was sneaking into your room after midnight, invading your body and your thoughts?

"Yes, Rafe, I'm pregnant with your baby." You tell him, standing and he's still shaking his head, eyes bunching up as if he's being told the craziest thing in the world - because really, he is. But you've sat with this for the entire day and while your reaction wasn't as confused, you too felt the familiar disbelief.

You watch his chest rise and fall, deep breaths in and out before you're in a whirlwind and he closes the distance between you and pulls you to him, tucking your head underneath his chin, the back of your skull rested protectively in his large palm. His lips are at your forehead when he tells you

"I'm going to take care of it. They're not keeping me from my kid."

----

AH, what do you think? My ask box is open for feedback. Please feel free to use it to ask for what you'd like to see from this fic!

[azlrse]

Cuddle headcannons of malleus and idia please 👉👈

➳ cuddlebug (malleus draconia/idia shroud x gn!reader; separate)

cw: kinda short cause still on writer's block, characters might be ooc, overall fluff

a/n: my freshmen year in pharmacy school has ended like weeks ago (yayy!! and had really good grades ngll) and had lots of time to write sum fics for you guys ^^

malleus draconia 🐉

i feel like malleus himself would be the first one to initiate into cuddling you just because he's curious on how warm you were comparing to him. bro's really curious since in his culture and heritage, mothers would initially cuddle their egg/babies and giving them with love. malleus, however was deprived with this opportunity since his mother is barely present when he hatched from his egg.

at first, your boyfriend is slightly nervous when asking you this question since the two of you are dating for at least 5 months. you just looked at him and said, "why are you asking this question? you know I'm really comfortable with you cuddling me. im just waiting for you to cuddle with me." as you extended your arms in front of him.

malleus just went 🥺 and 🥰 as he picked you from the floor and proceeded to lay the both of you into his bed, making you shocked from the sudden action but quickly relaxed as soon as you felt his head being placed on the crook of your neck. malleus loves it when your hands are caressing his face as he stared at you with adoration and hearts in his eyes and tends to kiss your hand while your hand are being cupped to his cheek.

most of the time, he's the big spoon in terms of cuddling but if he's the one having a really bad day, he's the one laying on your chest being the little spoon. malleus would also love the cradle position and the half spoon since he loves holding you on his arms.

idia shroud 💠

you're going to be the one who would proposed the idea on the subject of cuddling with him because this guy, won't be the one to initiate cuddling cause he would die of shame asking you to cuddle so good luck with him (even tho i loved him sm).

even though idia loves you (like a ton), he's gonna wait for you to ask him if you would like to cuddle with him. bro's not the type to make the move first aside from asking you out (thanks to ortho's reassurance that you liked him back)

he's also not used into physical touch so you better be patient with him, it may start with his head on your shoulder and escalated into hugging you from behind as you lay down on his bed. idia would love it if one of your leg in placed on his thigh when he plays something on his computer/console.

idia's concern regarding cuddling you is his hair but you quickly reassured him that you loved his hair so much on how comfortably warm it is in his air-conditioned room. he would whine if you are not touching his hair if the both of you are cuddling together (only you and ortho since he is really uncomfortable on others touching him, including his long hair).

probably he dreams on having you on his lap when he plays a game or just relaxing with you while talking about his interests and kisses your face while holding you (he's quite shy on kissing your lips yet hehe)

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[berristreasuredlibrary]

Eyes on the Camera, Baby

Warnings: porn, porn, porn, age gap (not specified but it's there), reader is a camgirl/pornstar, SatoruxReader, SuguruxReader, SatoruxReaderxSuguru, KentoxReader, ShokoxReader (all pornstars), TojixReader (Toji is not a pornstar), Toji is not a broke hoe (yay!), all pairs will be in separate parts.

This post(s) contains: masturbation (both male and female), sex toys, filming (consensual on both ends), breath play, spit play, fingering (f! receiving), oral (both male and female receiving), cum eating, spanking, biting/kissing, hair pulling, temperature play (ice cubes), choking, impact play (light slapping, female receiving), degrading (whore, slut, etc.), praising (good girl, atta girl, etc.), pet names (angel, doll face, doll, sweetheart, baby, etc.), sir kink, size difference, manhandling, unprotected sex (stay safe out there guys 🫡), double penetration + plus more that I will put later on when they arise.

"Fuck, you're all so dirty." Your breathy moans fill the room as your fingers dive into your soaking pussy repeatedly, curving them slightly only to barely have them graze the spot you want to hit. Pouting softly, glossy lips full and tinted red, you bring your eyes up to your screen, reading the flooding comments as best you can, biting your lip when your thumb rubs against your clit.

"You want me to use my dildo? Mmm, fuck. Well, which one?" You smile so innocently, even as you bring your fingers out of your pussy and up to your lips, licking and sucking your sticky essence from the digits. Giggling, you watch as more comments pour in, different suggestions and demands, your computer dings with notifications of different tips you've earned so far.

"Oh? You guys want me to use my clear one? That one's too big though, hurts a little." You pout once more up at the camera, though your hand is already reaching for the clear dildo - a personal favorite if you're being honest - thick in girth and decently sized in length. While it is true that it's on the bigger side, your viewers know damn well it's not too big for you. They've watched you fuck yourself on it countless times, you have no problem when they suggest that specific dildo.

Huffing as you watch comments state just that, you eye the camera for a moment before settling on your tummy right in front of it, setting the dildo in front of you before parting your lips to let a glob of spit fall onto the tip. You hear more notifications come from your computer and bite back a smile, already anticipating your next expensive purchase.

Instead, you swirl your tongue over the head of your dildo, letting your saliva dribble down the toy before wrapping your lips around it and enveloping it in your mouth. Bobbing your head, you suck and swirl your tongue along the clear toy, coating it messily with your spit, your eyes never leaving the camera.

Comments flood your second screen, and your eyes flicker over for a moment, reading the praise that has your pussy clenching around nothing. Moving your head lower, you work the fake cock further into your mouth, gliding your tongue along the shaft, until the tip of it hits the back of your throat.

Gagging around the dildo, your vision blurs with tears, though you blink them away in time to read more praises popping up on your screen. Pulling away from the dildo, a string of spit connects the tip to your lips before snapping, and you sit up to stare at the camera. “What position do you want me in?”

Smiling so innocently at the camera, your eyes flicker to the side as you read the flood of comments, watching with interest as you glide the tip of the dildo through your folds, your thighs twitching when the head rubs across your clit. Humming in mock thought, you bite back a smirk, watching as comments continue to fill your screen, shifting so you're laying back and spreading your legs.

~

Your legs are spread far enough to expose your glistening pussy and the clear dildo that sinks repeatedly into it, lewd squelching sounds and your mewls coming from his phone’s speaker as his eyes remain glued to the screen.

Toji palms his dick through his sweats, rubbing up and down slowly, cupping the bulge, before he’s pushing the article of clothing down his hips. The sweats now rest around his thighs, just enough for his dick to spring free, bobbing up and down from its sheer size.

His tip leaks pre, angry and flushed a shade of red, and he can feel it throbbing in his large hand when he gives himself a few shallow pumps, using his pre as lube. His abs flex as he groans lowly, head falling back to lightly thud against his headboard, lifting his phone up to his face so he can continue watching your stream.

He always thought you were a pretty little thing, so eager to please everyone, though he knew it was mostly for money, with your doe eyes and pouty lips. Ever since he found you that one night, he can’t seem to get you out of his head, as stupid as it sounds to him.

It’s ridiculous really, how you’ve got him in a chokehold.

He’d been scrolling through his Instagram feed, mindlessly liking a few posts here and there until he stumbled upon one of your posts. At first, he thought you were just a dumb little girl fresh outta high school, posting about your little vacation now that school was over.

However, when he really looked at your post, he was pleasantly surprised. It was a selfie of yourself, a drink in hand, and fancy camera equipment behind you. His eyes flickered down to your caption, cocking a brow as he read it.

“Filming today with my beloved, @Real_Satoru, I’m so excited! Any suggestions?”

What a dirty little thing you turned out to be. When he’d found your livestream, after spending an obnoxiously annoying amount of time creating a profile, he’d been shocked, to say the least.

It was the most passionate thing he’d ever seen, and he’d seen his fair share of porn. The title had been something along the lines of ‘Fucking My Rival’ or some corny thing like that, but the video itself? Far from corny.

Your videos weren’t crappy, with bad acting and all, like most porn videos. The ones where he just has to skip the first twenty minutes because it’s pointless dialogue and shit that makes his dick go soft with how annoying it is.

The video in particular, had started out with you and Satoru passing by in what looked like the common room of dormitories, a smirk on his face and a sweet smile on yours. However, when you both got close enough, your sweet smile turned smug as you held up a test, a big ‘100%’ on it, and Satoru’s smirk turned into a scowl.

As you passed by him, he turned his head slightly to watch you saunter away, his blue eyes gazing at you icily as you headed up towards your dorm, peering at him from over your shoulder, batting your lashes his way before disappearing into your dorm.

~

There was no warning when the scene changed. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Satoru's tongue shoved down your throat, his hand between your thighs. Soft mewls were swallowed by Satoru, the sounds of your pussy squelching made Toji's dick throb as he stared wide-eyed at his screen.

Two of Satoru's long fingers sunk into your pussy, your slick dripping down from his wrist, as his free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly when his tongue slid further into your mouth. At a particular thrust of his fingers, your soft mewls grow louder, making Satoru pull back with a smirk, watching you through hooded eyes.

Slipping his fingers from your clenching pussy, the white-haired male grins when you whine, clutching his rumpled shirt with a pout. "Toru, was so close. Why'd you stop?" Scoffing lightly, he adds pressure to your neck, making you whine louder when he leans closer, nudging your nose with his.

"What? You think you're gonna get to cum first? Nuh-uh, you're gonna work for it, you brat. Make me cum first, since you think you're so much better than me." When you whine again, he tsks softly, pushing you down onto your knees while unbuckling his belt.

Tapping his leaky tip against your pouty lips, he watches as you huff, before slowly taking his dick into your mouth, swirling your tongue along his sensitive tip before moving further. Looking up at Satoru with your wide eyes, you moan around his length when his fingers tangle in your hair and he guides your head down more.

Hissing softly, he watches you bob your head up and down his length slowly, finding a rhythm that's comfortable for you, but he doesn't want you to be comfortable. So, he grabs your head and snaps his hips forward, groaning when you choke on his lengthy cock.

His head falls back as he continues to fuck your mouth, keeping a messy rhythm that has you gagging each time his tip pushes past your uvula, groaning up at the ceiling when your hands grip his thighs, digging your pretty blue nails into his skin. His teeth grind together as your throat constricts around his length, saliva dribbling down your chin, your mascara smeared as tears blur your vision.

A breathless, "Fuck," is the only warning you get before ropes of cum are spilling down your throat. You only get a few gulps of his seed before he pulls out from your mouth and jerks himself off quickly. Pearly, sticky cum shoots out across your face, landing on your cheeks and on your glasses, round frames messy now with his seed.

A smug grin is plastered across Satoru's face as he stares down at you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Your hands move from their place on his thighs to grab your glasses, huffing as you stare down at them. "'Toru, you got them all dirty." Raising the frames to your lips, your tongue drags across the cum-covered lenses, collecting the sticky mess and swallowing it down with ease.

Satoru lets out a strangled groan as he watches you from above, eyes fixed on the way your tongue darts out to lick across your lips and collect any remnants of him. Leaning down, he hoists you up easily over his shoulder, landing a harsh slap to your ass when you squeal, and he takes you to the bed in the middle of the room.

Dropping you onto the bed, he hikes your skirt up and pushes your legs open. His index finger hooks into the waistband of your pretty little panties before he tugs them off, slipping them into his pocket discreetly. As the camera zooms in, Toji audibly groans, his hand dropping down to squeeze the throbbing boner he'd popped minutes ago. His hand tightens around his phone as he stares completely enthralled by your pussy, glistening with your slick.

Unable to handle the need gnawing at him, Toji's hand pushes down the waistband of his pesky bottoms, hand wrapping around his cock as he continues watching the scene play out, feeling like a pathetic teenager.

Satoru's face moves closer to your dripping core and his fingers spread you open, bright eyes meeting your own when you gasp so cutely. Slowly, he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth and flicking it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue.

Your hands fly into his white hair, tugging on the strands as your hips roll up, greedy for more of his mouth. Murmuring his name so sweetly, Satoru grants you mercy, sucking on your clit as his fingers dip into your core, curling them to rub against that gummy spot inside you. Mewling into the air, your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, your thighs threatening to close around Satoru’s head.

When Satoru flattens his tongue to roll over your clit repeatedly, his fingers continuously hit that spot, and your thighs squeeze around his head, making him hum in delight as his eyes meet yours over the tops of your heaving breasts. Moving his free hand up, he tugs your rumbled button-up blouse open, a few buttons flying popping off, to play with your tits. Pinching and rolling a nipple, he buries his face into your dripping pussy, licking and sucking up your sticky essence without care.

His fingers dip and curl into your clenching hole repeatedly, his mouth continuing to work wonders and his fingers tug on your poor nipples. When your mewls turn higher pitched, he redoubles his efforts, licking and sucking faster as his fingers curl into that spot over and over again until your orgasm crashes over you.

Toji swears he's never busted as quickly as he did, watching your eyes roll back and your back arch off the bed. Seeing your thighs twitch and tremble, hearing your heavenly fucking moans, it's too damn much for him. And before he knows it, he's spilling into his hand with a ragged groan, eyes blown wide in surprise as pure ecstasy courses through his veins.

His own chest heaves as he pauses the video, staring down at his ruined sweats, his seed soaking through the fabric. Tsking softly, he grunts as he tosses the covers off his legs, standing to make his way to the bathroom, snatching up a clean pair of sweats along the way.

He couldn't believe it, he didn't even last the entire video. Barely made it to the halfway point, in fact. He wasn't some loser, virgin teenage boy who couldn't control a nut, but goddamn you were a vision to behold. He'd have you, there's no doubt about it, one way or another.

[zweiginator]

Patrick Zweig x Reader x Art Donaldson perhaps??

Again thinking about being in a group project or something with art and Patrick. Neither of them care about the assignment, but you do. You care a lot. And they make fun of how nerdy you’re being but both of them have noticed how pretty you look in class when you’re taking notes. So they’re not mad at all when you’re all paired together.

You know you’ll have to explain everything to them. You wouldn’t say they’re stupid, but they’re acting like it.

And for a second they thought this was a biology class and you have to remind them, no, this is political science.

You’re bossy; you text them late at night and tell them what to do. Art and Patrick have an inside joke about you acting like a drill sergeant about this stupid group project.

“Jeez, calm down. We’re working on it.” Patrick is “researching” on his computer; you can see he’s looking at the Berkeley tennis roster.

Art is glancing over his shoulder. “That’s a good article. Credible too.” He’s eating an apple; the juice falls down his chin.

“I can see your screen you fucking idiot.” You’re not usually this mean, but they’re pissing you off. This is due in a week, it’s almost finals week, and you really don’t want to do this all yourself.

“Wow, okay, sorry ma’am.” Patrick salutes you.

You’re in a study room at one of Stanford’s libraries. It’s almost midnight.

“Why are you calling me ma’am?”

Art giggles. “Because you’re acting like you’re in charge of us.”

“Maybe if you acted like men and not dumb little boys I wouldn’t have to be so bossy.” You shut Patrick’s laptop and put it on the table.

“Plus,” you say. “I think I kind of am in charge of you.”

Patrick and Art just stare at you. You’re sitting on the table, they are in separate chairs, legs spread.

Art scoots forward; the wooden legs of the chair screech against the linoleum floor. “What will happen if we don’t listen to you?”

You stand up and bend down so you’re eye-to-eye with them both. “Why don’t you want to listen to me?”

“Because it’s hot when you’re pissed at us.” Patrick gives you a toothy smile, chewing his gum.

“Art, open your laptop.” You command, grabbing Patrick’s from the table. You open it for him and gesture for him to unlock it.

“Sir yes sir.” Patrick salutes you.

You grab his face. “Do your homework.”

Art stifles a laugh.

As they start typing, you close the blinds to the room.

You sink to your knees, pretending to tie your shoes. But your hand snakes up Patrick’s leg. You see his adam’s apple bob.

“What are you doing?” He looks down at you, confused.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

He nods.

You clear your throat. “Well are you going to take your pants off?”

He gets up to peel them off so fast you have to grab his laptop to keep it from falling.

Art is confused; he’s half heartedly typing on his computer but he’s paying close attention to what’s going on.

“Sit down. Keep working.”

He’s hard; pre-cum leaks from his tip as he clicks randomly on his laptop, looking through tabs—doing anything to seem busy.

You press a kiss to his balls and he moans pornographically, his hips bucking up reflexively.

“Jesus—“ his hand moves to find your hair, but you slap it away.

“Keep working.” You lick a stripe up his shaft, and Art is nervously tapping his foot, clearly awaiting his turn.

Just as Patrick is ready to fuck your mouth, you let off him with a pop and move over to Art.

Patrick groans, but continues to work. This is working for them.

“Look how much I’ve gotten done.” Art shows you his screen; he has finished a few paragraphs and they actually aren’t too poorly written.

“Good job, Art.” You praise. “See, Patrick? It’s not so hard is it?”

You peel Art’s shorts off and his cock slaps against his stomach, hard and ready for you. You don’t make him work on his laptop, and you let his hands bunch your hair up as you suck him fully into your mouth.

He stifles his moans. They’re so pretty and needy. Spit pools around his balls and you massage them for him, reveling in how he whimpers and thrusts into your mouth.

You pull off him with a gasp.

“Poor Patrick is left out.” You pout.

“Don’t worry about him. I did a good job remember?” You giggle at how he turns against his friend in a moment of pure desperation.

“You don’t want to help out your friend?” You ask.

“What do you-“

You interrupt him. “Patrick, why don’t you move closer.”

He does, immediately.

“Art, you should touch him. Look how hard he is. I bet that hurts.”

Art looks at Patrick’s cock, slick with saliva, angry and red.

Art wraps his strong hand around Patrick’s cock and strokes him slowly at first. He feels Patrick throb in his grasp and you smirk at how Art’s cock does the same.

Patrick moans, throwing his head back. “Feels so good, Artie.”

“Yeah?” He asks. They’re enjoying this more than you thought.

“You’re such good boys.” You praise, removing Art’s hand.

You can tell they are desperate to cum.

“Do you want to cum?”

They both nod fervently.

“Then get to work and I promise you both will—if we finish this project tonight.”

[purple-obsidian]

I loved your post about sleepy sex with dick. I'd love to see more soft moments with him in bed, pretty plz I need him to smother me 😪

nonsense (18+, dick grayson x gn reader) wc 900

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors.

"I have a theory."

"A theory?"

"Yeah."

You can't see the grin on his face, but you feel the upturn of his lips against your neck and the soft shaking of his body as Dick chuckles at your sleepy musings.

"Well, lets hear it, babe. Don't keep me in suspense."

Your fingertips graze his scalp, toying with his thick, dark hair that tempts you every time you're together. Its just begging to be pulled at and played with, really. It isn't your fault.

"You and Bruce, your whole gig is that you don't have powers, right? You're just ordinary people, regular humans."

"Well, I wouldn't say ordinary." He chides back with playful defensiveness. His voice is muffled from his proximity, but you can understand him just fine.

"Exactly." You mumble back, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You can just barely make out the outline of the ceiling fan, dimly lit with the meager light emanating from your digital alarm clock on your bedside table, accompanied by an inconspicuous bottle of lube and a half-empty water bottle. "I think it's bullshit. You're meta, one hundred percent. I think you've been fooling everyone all along."

"Huh. Is that right?" He mutters against your warm neck, his soft breath fanning over your skin and sending a sharp tingle down your spine.

"You're telling me I'm wrong?" You whisper breathlessly, struggling to take in a full breath with how his body is crushing you, keeping you pinned between him and the mattress. Dick senses your discomfort and shifts his weight around to take some pressure of of your diaphragm. You cling to him reflexively when he moves, scared that he might try and get up.

"Aww, baby, someone feeling needy?"

You ignore the teasing in his tone, but allow your fingers to grip his raven strands that much tighter, keeping his head in place next to yours. "Don't change the subject."

Dick shifts his bodyweight again, wiggling his hips and grinding them against yours not-so-subtly. There is nothing separating your bodies, all clothes were forgotten hours ago when the two of you first came to bed. The evidence of your time together dampens the bedding below you and lingers in the still air of the bedroom. And still, his arousal that's pressed against your stomach stiffens once again while he slowly moves against you, teasing you, toying with you like he was made to do so, as if the gods sent him here specifically to be your undoing. He's good enough at it that you wouldn't be surprised.

"What superpowers do I have, then? Since you got me all figured out."

You grin, releasing your firm hold on his hair and nuzzling his cheek to get him to look at you. Dick reluctantly removes his face from your neck and blinks the sleep away from his eyes to focus on your face in the dark.

"Isn't it obvious?" The tip of your nose brushes against his, lips almost touching. Your breath is synced up to where you're inhaling as he's exhaling, your chest deflating slightly while his expands, back and fourth, slow and steady.

"Indulge me." Barely a whisper, his gravely voice tickling your eardrum.

Sapphirine eyes slowly come in to focus in the dim light. You snake your hand down between your bodies to grasp his hardening length, which is still sensitive from his earlier performance. The broken moan that chokes him upon contact is like a shot of dopamine to your brain. To you, there is no greater ego boost than being the source of this man's pleasure. With a gentle touch, you stroke his cock languidly, letting out a soft exhale that lacks enough air to fuel a full laugh.

"Stamina." You tell him, letting your mouth brush against his chin as you speak, his stubble feeling harsh against your lips, which are chapped from the endless kisses and fervent promises exchanged in this very bed hours earlier.

He ruts into your hand with another pained groan. "Sh-shit." A tremble shakes his large frame before he braces his forearms on either side of your body, baring more of his weight so he can lift himself off of you and give you more room to stimulate him where he needs you most. "Just like that… dammit, babe, you have no idea what you do t'me."

You lick your lips, chasing him as he pulls away, the few inches of space he put between you far too much for you to tolerate.

"Tell me I'm right." You demand, but you capture his lips in a heated kiss before he can answer you. The sound of his moans mingle with your own as the two of you make out, slow and sloppy, his cock now painfully hard and heavy in your palm.

"Right about what?" He mutters between urgent, feverish pecks to your lips.

"Y-your super-human stamina." You stutter after a beat, almost losing your train of thought. It's so easy to get lost in him. His taste, his smell, his warmth, his love. Its nothing short of addicting.

"Dunno what you mean…mmmm… You're talking nonsense, baby."

Dick swallows up any further comments from you, deepening the kiss and humping your hand with increasing desperation. It doesn't take much longer until your theory is forgotten, cast aside to make room for the love Dick pours into you with every lazy kiss and needy touch.

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[vallification]

“womanly advice” // JJK AU

incl: satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, choso kamo (all separate)

content: angst, hurt, comfort, jealousy, unrequited feelings, drinking, flirting! no established relationship/pre-relationship.

wc: 3.4k

please like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts!!!

satoru gojo

you sway to the music pouring from the bar speakers, pressed against other warm bodies on every side, caught in the middle of the dance floor. shoko is pressed against your front, and her movements are abnormally stiff and laggy despite the copious amount of whisky and coke flowing through her veins. following her line of sight, your eyes land on the bar where gojo sits with geto at his side, both hunched over and whispering to each other animatedly. shoko’s expression is a mix of curiosity, concern, and confusion, but she continues to dance with you despite being distracted.

“what’s going on?” you ask, your voice slightly raised so she can hear you over the music once she tears her eyes away from the pair of boys at the bar. she maneuvers herself around to face you and brings her lips to your ear so she doesn’t have to be as loud, and says one word: “you.”

it’s said so plainly, but it almost sobers you up with how much that one simple word shocks your system.

your eyes widen in confusion, eyebrows stitching together as you pull back to look at her face. you search for any indication that she’s joking, that she doesn’t actually know what the problem is, that she’s just teasing you, but you come up short. shoko raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows in a knowing look, as if you should know exactly what she means, but your silence tells her that you know nothing of the sort. thin eyebrows raise impossibly higher on shoko’s forehead as a metaphorical nudge in the right direction, which is met with your unwavering, lost stare. her expression now matches yours, contorted in confusion, and she pulls you aside from the sea of bodies.

“are you playing dumb right now?” shoko asks, both of her hands planted firmly on your shoulders. you shake your head and try to look back at gojo and geto, as if you might be able to piece everything together with context clues, but shoko forces you to keep looking at her. “be for real with me right now. are you stupid?”

“is this about me not texting him back the other day? because we talked about it and i thought he was just being dramatic, i didn’t think he was actually upset at me,” you ramble, bewildered at the notion that gojo was actually that hurt at your “improper text etiquette.” jaw hanging slack as you talk, shoko mirrors your state of bewilderment, wondering how you got this far in life while being so oblivious. “i mean, he’s an adult man, shoko, i don’t know what you want me to do about—"

“oh my god.”

“what?” you bark, your patience spreading too thin to keep playing contextual tug-of-war with shoko, who says nothing before disappearing into the crowd.

now that you’re alone, confused, and frustrated, the dance floor loses all of its appeal and you accept your new position against the wall. you find a little bit of comfort in your glass, which is still half full despite its time in your hand as you danced. the ice has melted, watering down the fiery contents of the glass, but you bring it to your lips and nurse it anyway. it’s a pitiful attempt to get back to your prior level of drunkenness, because you don’t want to face this right now. not sober, at least.

what was “this,” anyway? “this” was the fact that you gave gojo exact instructions on how to successfully woo someone else and you were sick over it. looking at him made you sick, laughing with him made you sick, being around him made you sick; it made you sick to think that there was someone he wanted so bad that it threw him off his game. that was why you were avoiding him. there was no way that you were ever that someone, and that hurt. it was easier to withdraw from gojo prematurely than to sit and wait for whoever that someone was to take your place.

it's juvenile, and it’s shameful, and it’s not something a true friend would do, but you can’t help it. you didn’t think it would hurt his feelings, but by the time you noticed how close you two were it was too late. he knew your coffee order, your morning routine at work, your bed time, your weekend schedule, and you knew his. guilt (or alcohol) stakes its claim in your chest, uncomfortable and heavy, and your throat starts to feel tight, and you can feel your eyes start to brim with tears, and you need to get out of here.

once you leave the bar, you manage to get fifty feet down the sidewalk before you hear the door open, and you hope that it’s not gojo with every fiber of your being. from behind you, you can hear him calling your name, the alcohol, shoko, and geto prohibiting him from straying too far from the bar in his effort to search for you. you keep your back turned to him out of embarrassment, not because of him, but because you don’t want him or anyone else seeing you cry.

gojo finds the opportunity to break out of the two pairs of hands grasping the back of his white shirt and takes it, his long, drunkenly-wobbling legs sprinting down the side walk to you. he grabs your forearm to spin you around, desperate for you to face him, but you yank it out of his hand and hold it up to hail a taxi instead.

“come on, don’t do that,” gojo pleads, his words slurring together like wet ink smudged on a page.

“stop,” you say, commanding your voice to be as steady and calm as you can manage while being upset. he throws his arms up in exasperation at your reaction.

“it’s you!”

you spin around when he says that, and while a big part of you would love to believe that, there’s a sea of women who feel exactly the same way. you bridge the gap between the two of you and meet his eyes with your own, pointing up at him.

“that’s fucked, satoru. don’t say shit like that. that’s seriously fucked,” chastising him, you search his glossy, striking blue eyes for that familiar teasing look, but you don’t find it. you wish that you did. gojo’s face twists up in an inebriated amalgamation of bewilderment, confusion, and frustration.

“how is that—what? how is that fucked? it’s fucked that i’m being honest?”

“you’re not, and that’s why it’s fucked, satoru. that’s—why would you say that?” you scoff, and like an angel sent from whatever heaven awaits you, a taxi rolls up to the curb. throwing open the door, you can hear gojo frustratedly begging you not to get in, to wait, to talk to him, but you get in anyway.

as the cab drives away, you turn around in the backseat, and watch gojo crouch down on the sidewalk as the distance between you grows further.

suguru geto

from where you sit a few barstools down, you watch geto tie up his long, dark hair, leaving the view of his face completely unobstructed. even in the dim light, you can see the skin of his face and neck flushing pink, glistening with the lightest layer of sweat, courtesy of the stuffy atmosphere of the bar and the alcohol flowing through his veins. he’s laughing at whatever story gojo’s telling, and he looks and sounds so beautiful that it feels criminal to even think about looking away from him.

in your drunk, awe-stricken state, you want to chastise yourself for the time you spent moping about geto’s feelings for someone else, the time you spent ignoring him, and the time you spent groveling with jealousy over whoever geto’s got his eyes on. to you, there’s no conceivable way that whoever they may be is lucky enough to have this view—it’s seriously flawed rationale, but you won’t remember that thought when you sober up.

at some point between geto tying his hair up and now, gojo had wandered off to talk to strangers and shoko had wandered off to flirt with the hot bartender, leaving the two of you alone. you pull yourself from your trance to play off your staring problem, looking around the place a few times before settling your eyes on the neon sign hanging from the ceiling above the front door. he’s already caught you, though, and you hear his low laugh as he slides into the seat next to you.

“you okay?” he says, his smooth voice thick and sweet in your ears like caramel. all you can manage is a nod, still looking anywhere but at geto. to prevent yourself from saying something idiotic, you bring your drink to your lips, sipping at it slowly and relishing the burn it spreads through your chest. you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze ever-so intense, seemingly unfazed by your avoidance. it almost feels like he enjoys that you can’t meet his eyes. “you mad at me?”

“no,” you manage to murmur into your glass. you glance at him from the side of your eyes, and you praise yourself for looking away earlier while you had the chance. geto’s eyes are nearly half-lidded, his usually silky brown irises now shaded almost black in the dim light of the bar, and god, you feel like a pitiful deer at the mercy of a hungry tiger. there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you want to spill everything you’ve ever thought or felt about him in a pathetic effort to make him stop looking at you like that.

“what’s the matter then?”

“pffft, nothing, i’m just—” you gesture vaguely around you to the dingy bar before throwing back the last of your drink, flinching as it goes down. “i’m just doing this. which, y’know, means nothing is the matter at all. in fact, i don’t think i’ve ever felt better. so—"

“look at me,” geto interrupts your rambling, and you look at him immediately. he’s got you exactly where you didn’t want to be, because you’re not sure you have the strength to defy anything he asks of you now that his eyes have yours locked in place. your eyes only leave his when they flick down to his lips, which look impossibly soft when he speaks again, beckoning to you like a siren would a sailor. “i miss you.”

for several seconds, he just stares at you, and you can almost feel the friction of his eyes dragging over your face—once, twice, three times, over your lips—before they lock back onto your own. you feel like a loser, frozen in place, unable to control your own body as geto pins you in place with something so simple as eye contact. in the back of your mind, you weigh the probabilities of what his intentions are: is he messing with you for fun, or is he into this? you pay no attention to which way the scales tip, you’re on autopilot, mentally scrambling to gather every last bit of self-control you have and standing up.

“i have to call my mom right now,” you blurt, and your jellified legs carry you out of the building and down the sidewalk as far as they can manage.

nanami kento

if you weren’t a coward, you’d admit that the reason for the heavy feeling that hangs on your shoulders is nanami’s admitted affection for someone else, but since you are a coward, you blame it on the monotony of your life. that wasn’t exactly a lie; you have settled into a comfortable routine, and although it’s nice to feel so stable, it’s lonely and lifeless.

sometimes you wonder if you’re too strict with your dating criteria, but every time you reevaluate your standards, there is nothing that sticks out as unattainable. not that it would matter, though, because you know exactly who you want. but he doesn’t want you. rationally, you’re not sure why he would want you (even if the other person wasn’t in the picture), because outwardly, you’re nanami’s opposite. you’re quicker to humor than you are stoicism, you’re louder than you are quiet, and you could be a lot more mild-mannered than you are.

it wasn’t like you were the type to feel worthless because you’re single; you’ve been single for several years now, and it didn’t phase you until you started getting closer to nanami. he was something out of a storybook, a fairy tale even, and you can still feel the devastation you first felt when he asked you how to win someone else over.

your mind drones on and on down the pathetic, beaten path of self-pity as you browse through the store’s selection of glittering necklaces and earrings. the glass countertops of the display cases are spotless, scratchless, and shiny, perfectly showcasing the expensive jewelry inside, resting peacefully atop red velvet pillows. retail therapy helped distract you when you felt sorry for yourself, at least. there were few experiences that matched the feeling of buying something new to take your mind off of your sad reality.

in the display case below, you spot something simple but gorgeous: a white solitaire diamond necklace with a thin, yellow gold chain. it’s got the perfect price tag, too, in the range where you won’t feel too guilty for buying it, but the purchase will still scratch the itch that retail therapy feeds on. before you can ask for a closer look, an inexplicably familiar scent washes over your senses. oud, sandalwood, amber, something peppery and warm—it’s something you relish each time it makes itself known, and it’s so distinctly nanami that you whip your head around to search for him.

the familiar blond scans the contents of the various displays, dressed impeccably as usual, but without the watch that habitually decorates his wrist. he looks regal, in a way, and you wonder what life would look like standing next to him, clutching his arm, willfully ignorant to the rest of the world… the watch. you try to think back to earlier in the day when you saw him, if you saw the watch, but then you remember how you dodged him each time he appeared. it makes you feel a little guilty, but he was probably grateful for it. a twinge of sadness follows that thought.

you lower your eyes back down to the solitaire necklace and half-heartedly attempt to block out the alluring scent of nanami’s cologne, but it’s no use. from the edge of your vision, you watch him recognize you, weigh his options, and then begin to approach you, so you try to discreetly fix your face into a more pleasant one.

“hey,” nanami says, taking the place at your side. the ease in his voice is almost jarring juxtaposed against the usual tone he took at work, and you mentally curse him for it, because it doesn’t help your case in the slightest. you try to fight the schoolgirl smile growing on your face, but it wins easily once you look up to greet him.

“hey, nanami. what are you doing here?” you ask, despite wishing you didn’t, so you could go back to feeling sorry for yourself in peace. that’s not really true, though, is it? no, not when he smiles down at you, a smile you’ve only seen grace his sharp features once or twice before. the feeling that follows in your chest could only be the work of butterflies. you hope you aren’t blushing, but the familiar warmth settles on your cheeks anyway and betrays your wishes.

nanami lifts his suited forearm and twists his wrist, signaling the absence of his usual watch, “well, i had to get my watch cleaned, so i’m here to pick it up. i get it cleaned every six months, and i like looking around while i’m here.” his usually tired brown eyes seem to sparkle down at you, and you feel like he’s casting some sort of heart palpitation spell on you. “can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“oh, y’know, just some retail therapy,” you laugh, wondering if that will disguise the near-breathlessness in your voice. he leans down to get a better view of the necklace in front of you, humming in approval at its design.

“it’s beautiful. I saw you looking at it before I came over here, I think you should get it,” nanami says, his sparkly brown eyes locking on yours as he returns upright again. “you’d look beau—”

as an associate interrupts nanami about his watch, you use this window of opportunity to book it out of the store. your eyes are wide, your cheeks pink, your heart racing at the proximity and sincerity of your short conversation with prince charming. there was no conceivable reality where, if that conversation was resumed, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. later, you’ll kick yourself for it, but you’re a coward a heart.

the necklace ended up in good hands.

choso kamo

friday movie nights at choso’s apartment were a cherished tradition for the two of you. well, the five of you now, if you count yuji, nobara, and megumi, who preferred friday nights at choso’s because he was a bit less intrusive than gojo was when they stayed at megumi’s. yuji’s father gifted him a big fabric binder of blockbuster movie DVDs that yuji was adamant about watching all of, which of course bled into friday movie nights. funnily enough, the three teenagers never made it through the last movie of the night, always ending up in a sleepy pile on the floor.

choso sits opposite of you on the couch with the neckline of his hoodie pulled up over his mouth, completely absorbed in the movie playing on the screen. you’ve already seen it before, so you only pay attention in bits and pieces, with the spaces in between dedicated to watching choso from the corner of your eye. sometimes you wonder if he does the same, but you never catch him in the act. his hair is down, pushed away from his face since its free from its usual twin confinements, and you wonder if whatever girl he likes has seen him this way.

you wonder if she’s sat on his couch watching movies, or slept in his bed because she was too tired to drive home. you wonder if she’s worn his shirts and boxers after taking a shower in his bathroom, or if she’s done the dishes with him after making a mess in his kitchen. heat rises in your face as jealousy rears its ugly head in your stomach, and while you watch him from the side of your vision, you pray to whatever will listen that you stay the only person who can say they’ve done any of that.

choso’s oblivious to your feelings on the other end of the couch. it almost makes you angry at him.

you wonder who she is. you wonder what she looks like. you wonder if she’s as mean and nasty as you are when you’re jealous.

one thing you’ve always hated about yourself is that you never fail to cry when you get upset. it doesn’t matter if you’re sad, or mad, or frustrated, or jealous, it’s almost certain that your throat tightens like it’s wrapped in barbed wire, and your eyes begin to well with hot, fat, pathetic tears. those tears almost always fall before you can catch them, and the choked down, heaving breaths almost always make a sound before you can silence them.

choso is your best friend, and he is no longer oblivious to your feelings on the other end of the couch. ish.

he sits up, his dark eyebrows stitched together in concern when he notices the tear that sits on your cheek, shining in the light cast by the movie on the screen. choso places a big, calloused, comforting hand on the bare skin of your knee as he tries to figure out the source of your upset, but he doesn’t find one. you flinch unnaturally at his touch, but he doesn’t move his hand.

“are you okay? what’s wrong?”

“the- I’m- it’s just the movie,” you fumble, your whispering voice warbled by your tears. the movie in question? superbad. choso gives you a funny look, his eyes flicking between your crying face and the screen, only becoming more concerned from there.

“are you on your period?” he asks, and you bring your hands up to wipe at your eyes as you start to laugh at his question.

“you’re not supposed to ask girls that, choso,” you fake-scold, which makes him laugh too. however, he’s still concerned, because you’re still teary-eyed.

choso wiggles his way over to you, now sitting on the couch in the proper position with your legs slung over his lap. one of his strong arms snakes its way behind you to pull you closer to his chest until he’s semi-holding you, resting his chin on top of your head. you try to reel your tears back in, but once you’re pulled to his chest, the entire dam breaks and you start to cry as silently as you can manage so you don’t wake the sleeping pile of teenagers.

“what’s wrong?” choso whispers, holding you as tightly as he can in this position. he’d held you while you cried before, but it was never like this. there was always a reason known to him, something obvious, but there isn’t this time. he wonders if it’s connected to your weird behavior this week, or if you’re depressed, or—he doesn’t know, but something must have happened.

“you can tell me,” he murmurs when you say nothing, frowning at the way you seem to sob a little harder after he says that.

“no, I can’t,” you whisper through your fingers. choso pulls back, just enough to see your face, confused by your response.

“why not? you always tell me everything.”

you bite your bottom lip to try and make it stop quivering, and you shake your head, burying your face back in choso’s chest. his chin resumes its rightful place on top of your head, but he’s still as confused as ever. choso says nothing this time, holding you in silence.

twenty minutes pass, only filled by the sound of rolling movie credits and soft sobs that devolve into the occasional sniffle. your arms are now wrapped around choso’s torso, weakly clinging to him as he holds you halfway in his lap.

“can I sleep like this, sir?” you whisper, your voice wavering, on the edge of tears again as you do a pathetic salute. you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to sleep like this again. choso laughs and maneuvers the two of you so that he’s in more of a reclined position, kicking his feet up on the couch without compromising your place in his arms.

“yeah, of course, ma’am.”

a/n: i have been writing this for 7 hours. you better like it or else. i'm jp but the smau will resume with this context for the next update :)

[planetception]

The Morning After - Caitlin Clark Headcannons

18+ Content mdni

Warnings: smut but only in like little flashbacks, suggestiveness, mentions of past sexual experiences, mentions of nudity, caitlin being an absolute sweetheart

A/N: probably the most freakiest thing i've written, except for that caitlin fic that will be out soon. um yeah as always enjoy

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༊*·˚ ok so like imagine waking up right next to her the morning after you two had sex for the first time

༊*·˚ she has her arms wrapped around you tightly and the only thing you can hear is the sound of her soft breathing and light snoring

༊*·˚ the feeling of her body pressed against yours gives you flashbacks from the night before

she's hovering over you, necklace dangling right in your face as she carefully strips each article of clothing off of your body. her hazel eyes stare right into yours as her hands roam all around your naked body-

༊*·˚ you get brought out of your day dream to caitlin grabbing your chin and pulling you up to a kiss

༊*·˚ i can imagine her asking you with a sexy raspy morning voice that makes you wanna do it again, "whatcha thinkin' about pretty girl?" your face would heat up as you smack her on the shoulder

༊*·˚ she's such a cutie pulling you back to cuddle into her chest, kissing your head as you again get pulled into last nights sexual activity

you two had just gotten back from another successful date, however the entire time caitlin was brushing her foot against your leg as you two sat at the fancy restaurant. once entering her apartment, she pounced on you like a dog in heat. she kissed you heavily as she led you to her bedroom before laying your body on her bed, she's on top of you. "cait? i think im ready. take me please?" you pleaded with her as she pulled off her suit jacket and unbuttoned her shirt-

༊*·˚ "mmm thinkin' bout last night aren't you?" she would ask in that raspy voice as you blushed again

༊*·˚ sure you had sex before, but it was different with caitlin. she took her time with you, praised you like a princess and made you feel things you've never felt before

༊*·˚ as your face was pressed into her chest, you breathed in the leftover scent of her cologne that she wore last night and the essence of the night before

༊*·˚ her hands would roam around your unclothed body as you laid on her chest

༊*·˚ she would observe every mark she made on your body, and she would feel the light burn of the scratch marks on her back from you as she remembered when you dug your nails into her back as she touched you so right

༊*·˚ now it was caitlin's turn to remember the events of last night, there was just something about you that made her feel like she was on a cloud

༊*·˚ after a long time of staying in bed just cuddling and talking to each other as your guy's hands play with each other. you two decide to get up and go take a shower

༊*·˚ you two would unwillingly separate from each other as she goes to the bathroom to turn on the shower

༊*·˚ as she was turning on the shower, you stood at the bathroom sink and stared at each mark caitlin left on you

༊*·˚ she would come up behind you as she held you from the back as she placed light feathery kisses on your neck with her hands roaming around your body and touching each mark she left on you

༊*·˚ she would smirk as your head flies back onto her shoulder

༊*·˚ you two eventually get into the shower to rinse of last night's activity

༊*·˚ this certainly won't be the last time this will happen and you two were extremely excited after finally having sex for the first time

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dear god that may have been the worst thing i've ever written....... um but enjoy this. as always my inbox is open for requests and just to talk. saturn out!

[liliewrites]

So reader is childhood frnds with both arle & clervie(we can't forget this girlie), but like reader has this talent that lets her blend into the background with no one knowing like she's even there. This trio literally stick tgt everyday like if someone sees 1 of them they know the other 2 aint that far behind. So reader & arle had this obvious crush on each other(not that they r gonna say anything but its so obvious to eveyone who saw them cus they r kids). Reader then got sent to Fontaine from Snezhnaya to snoop around for info (this is b4 KingMaking). So while reader is snooping for info, KingMaking happens as canon & arle tried to find reader after she became a harbinger cus like she lost clervie alrdy & she just wants to know reader is still safe ya know. But like obviously arle couldn't find cus reader's talent of 'blending' works damm well. So arle got transferred to Fontaine for the gnosis, happened to find reader by 100% coincidence while on a walk, grabbed reader, carried her all the way to the hearth, had a VERY long conversation about what happened & decided to finally confessed to reader about the crush that has never fade despite being separated for so long.

💫anon

HALLLLOOOOOOOO 💫 ANON:DD i hope i do ur ask justice n feed all of u the good ol' slowburn n mutual pining w arlecchino:DD eat up!! also, i changed smth a little bit for the sake of the plot if u don't mind, but overall, it shouldn't make too much of a difference! tyy for requestingggg!! i feel like this isn't my best portrayal of arlecchino though huhuawkajdwas

-warning/s ; maybe ooc, clervie's death mentioned.

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men please dni utc!)

peruere didn't know what to do.

peruere didn't know that the last word's clervie to you would be "byebye, y/n! make sure to come back home safely, okay??"

peruere stared at her hands with an absent stare, her mind in full delirium as she just realized the atrocities she'd just commit. the children of the house of the hearth has fallen- and she was the only one left.. along with you. knowing her mother, she knew what she had done to clervie would eventually happen to you.

she wasn't going to lose you too.

thankfully, you were currently absent from the scene- as "mother" had assigned you on a mission somewhere within teyvat but she knew as soon as you came back you'd be suffering the same fate as the others if she didn't act soon enough.

her mind finally met with clarity, she picked up her sword- the very same sword that bore her sins against your friends and siblings.

the next day, you heard what had happened back at.. home. the house of the hearth was no more.

peruere had been arrested, mother crucabena had been killed by peruere. you didn't believe it at first, but when you also heard that the rest of the children had died a year prior to crucabena's death- you knew peruere had lost her wits at the last minute.

you were disoriented for a moment, unsure of what to do now that you had nowhere to come back home to, but you mostly worried about peruere. you thought of what they would do to her, you didn't want to lose her too. she's all you had left.

with a heavy heart, you never went back home. you had no choice but to use your ability to blend in within the street kids of sumeru, just so no one would recognize you especially the fatui agents that roamed the streets from time to time. you spent a few years within the streets, taking advantage of your expertise in the field of gathering information with your stealth and earned yourself a living off of it.

however, you just couldn't shake peruere out of your mind. constantly, she was on your mind like a nail lodged in your head. especially when the full moon had gleamed upon you it's blessed and gentle caress and had brought you comfort, did peruere witness it's beauty? or was she as lonely and lost as the moon in the vast darkness of it's own solitude akin to her own isolation within the confinements of her prison cell? it worried you greatly.

after a few years, you'd caught news of the newly appointed harbinger named arlecchino whom had inherited your "mother's" title, the knave.

there were different rumors that surrounded the harbinger, but they all pointed to her committing a massacre, calling her the "poor, mad and cursed" knave.

your chest thumped, you had a strong feeling you knew it was peruere yet you couldn't confirm it yet. you haven't seen any photos of the new knave, except for the fact that she's been stationed in fontaine within the newly rebuilt house of the hearth.

confirmed or not, you knew it was her-- it had to be. so you had immediately began to prepare for your trip back to fontaine with haste.

unbeknownst to you, said harbinger had been looking for you first thing when she had gotten out of prison. she knew you would have fled fontaine entirely as she had intended, but was also aware of your proficiency when it comes to hiding your identity. she knew it would be hard to find you, but she still carried on. she couldn't let the kids handle this, lest she could risk the freedom you had now from the life of being a fatui (which she hoped you had). so she could only hope, if there really was a deity out there that would hear her, that you were safe and alive and well.

you were, in fact, safe and alive and well. now you were taking your first few steps into the city of fontaine. when, honestly, as a child you've never been able to experience the city despite spending your childhood within it's region. "mother" had never let you leave the orphanage, not until you were "of age" to join the official ranks of the fatui.

you looked around, mesmerized by the people and their lavish clothing. the weather was much different from sumeru as well. despite not growing up within the city, however, you caught whiffs and scents of your favorite cakes from your childhood. truly, you may or may not be fontainian by blood, but at least you were by heart.

you spent the first few days, getting yourself to blend in within fontaine's society. you were still afraid and wary of the fatui, especially with how strict "mother" was to you which formed your impressions of the organization. eventually, after getting a place to stay, getting accustomed to the city and dressing yourself in the same clothes as them- you could now officially, once again, call yourself a fontainian.

however, the reason why you came here in the first place was still on the very top of your head, you had to see peruere no matter what. you kept your eyes open for any signs of her monotone colored hair. you kept your ears alert if you'd catch any drift of her name, peruere or arlecchino, to no avail.

you let out a sigh, feeling unsuccessful. you weren't about to give up, but decided that you should rest and call it a day. it was getting late, so you had gotten up from the bench you were sitting on to go and head back to the inn you were staying at.

.. then suddenly, you had been robbed of your sight then consciousness.

your eyes fluttered open, but your eyesight had been blurry. the first thing you've realized is that your feet was off the ground and you were being lifted up on the air. your fight response kicked in, and you had tried to wriggle your way out of your captor's grasp.

"let go of me-"

immediate silence. you knew those eyes as she looked down at you. just from her look alone, you knew she had sent you a warning to stay silent.

but that wasn't the reason why you were still, it was because of those those x shaped pupils of hers that bore into your soul that you've come to love.

".. p-peruere? is that.. you?"

she froze for awhile, before continuing on walking.

"later. we can't talk here, keep your face hidden."

you nodded, returning back to your tucked position as she carried you in her arms. you could feel your heart thumping, beating- you've never felt this way since you've last seen her.

once you've arrived at your destination, you noticed that she's brought you within a building. a private study room, it seems. she carefully placed you down on the couch, before sitting on the chair in front of you. you've finally had a full view of her, and both of you had eyes full of shock at the sight of each other.

you were the first one to shatter the silence, immediately tearing up and throwing yourself in her arms. for a while, she awkwardly placed her hand on your waist. you couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle. after all these years, she still acted as if hugging was an alien thing.

you leaned back again, sniffing. she's definitely went through a lot. the apathetic look on her face was much more hardened, more sharper. she looked intimidating, especially with her upright stance and poise of a full fledged military officer. which in her position's case, she was.

she reached out to grab your hand. feeling you, touching you, as if to make sure that you really really were alive and in front of her.

see, the knave was not one to show emotion since she was a child, and you knew that.. but the way she acted now, it bothered you.

".. what happened? where have you been?"

she asked, pulling away from you to regain her composure. her voice was much more deeper now compared to a few years ago. you couldn't help but blush at the sound of it. the way she talked, it lacked warmth, she sounded stiff and stern.

"me? why ask me- what about you?! you're a harbinger now, pers!"

you exclaimed, causing her heart to still for a moment as you called her by that affectionate nickname she hasn't heard in a while. "i'll explain to you, sit."

her way of speaking was much more commanding, more authoritative, but it didn't scare you. rather, you were astonished at how much more polished she's been after all these years.

you sat down next to her, listening to her relay to you the past events that have happened while you two have been apart. she spoke in such a way that she sounded like she was reporting a mission or an assignment, making you feel amused even more as you listened to her speak.

your peruere has really grown up a lot, hasn't she? it made you think that you were wrong, maybe she's not peruere anymore. it made sense, she was called arlecchino now. it made you feel like you've truly lost her forever.

"i see. i'm happy to hear that the tsaritsa has pardoned you, our tsaritsa is truly blessed.." you muttered, looking away as you sighed. arlecchino noticed the melancholic twinkle in your eyes, causing worry to stir within her. "is there something wrong?" she asked, yearning for you to look at her again.

she wouldn't say it out loud, but she missed you, dearly.

you were silent for a few seconds, before letting go of her hand. the look in your eyes made her feel dread-- dread at the thought that you now hate her for killing clervie, for killing "mother", for destroying the place you had once called your "home".

arlecchino was used to being called a monster, a murderer, a freak by many and she could take it.. but from you? oh, it tore her apart. she felt like she'd truly lost you for good.

you looked at her, wanting to ask her if she was still your peruere.

she reached out again, wanting to make it clear to you that it had to be done to protect you.

"do you loath-" "-my peruere?"

both of you had talked at the same time but arlecchino heard your words loud and clear. she just had to hear it again for confirmation. "..pardon?" she asked, blinking at you in confusion.

slightly embarrassed at the thought of being a grown woman whom still referred to her affectionately as "your" peruere after all these years, you really didn't want to ask again, but you needed assurance.

so in a smaller, more hushed voice, you asked again.

"are.. you still my peruere?"

".. you don't hate me?" she asked, a bit dumbfounded that out of all the things you could say, that was the first thing that came our your mouth. it should've been obvious that she's yours, she always has been and she always will be.

"why would i hate you, per- arlecchino? you're my best friend..!" you exclaimed, a bit dumbfounded for her to think that you hated her. you weren't blind to "mother's" ways of raising children. it would've happened either way.

you started to tear up a little, calling her arlecchino felt bitter to the tongue. you've waited all these years, looked for her high and low, and now that you've seen her again.. it felt like you were facing a different person.

all the fears that had built up within arlecchino through all these years had drifted away. you didn't hate her. you didn't resent her for killing clervie. for ruining everything. she was glad that you were still the same woman she loved.

she pulled you in for a hug, albeit a bit awkward, she pulled you in as close as she could. "of course. of course i'm still your peruere. just.. refrain from calling me that in public." she told you, wiping away your tears with her hand.

her hand- her hand, oh archons! "pers, what happened?!"

you exclaimed in horror, grabbing her hand and carefully examining it. you knew of her curse, and it seems that it has taken over her. "worry not. it's been years since the curse had fully manifested, i am fine now" she reassured you, then, holding your hand in hers.

".. did you mean it when you called me yours?" she immediately asked after, looking down at your intertwined fingers. her thumb swiping against yours in a soothing manner.

"why of course, pers, you're my best friend!" you told her, your cheeks becoming flushed as she held your hand in a rather.. more affectionate manner.

"no, no. what if i wanted you to call me yours in a different way?"

she then looked up at you again. her eyes were filled with conviction, with a subtle hint of desperation and enamor. "i'm a woman who's dull to the concept of loss after having witnessed many losses and failures.. but you, i've lost you once. i cannot bear to lose you again. please stay, mon amour." her voice wavered for a moment as she held on to your hand tightly. "please, y/n." her face did not show it, but with the longing stare in her eyes, the way she held at your hand. she was devastated at the thought of losing you again.

your heart broke at the sight of her. you knew, she was still your peruere. within your presence, arlecchino was gone. within your presence, she is peruere. the same one whom would eat your favorite cakes with cakes with you, the same one who would cling on to your shirt as she followed you around, the same one who'd let you use her as your blade in a fight even if she knew you were capable of fending off on your own. arlecchino wasn't asking you to stay while professing their love to you, it was peruere.

you smiled at her, leaning in to lean your forehead against hers.

"of course, pers. i'm here to stay. i've found you again, i'm never going away. i'm glad to be home." you whispered, feeling that familiar warmth from her presence that you've come to know and love. "home?" she asked, a bit curious as to what you meant. "did you mean the orphanage? the current house of the hearth is much different from what we've grown up to, mon amour." she told you, your heart fluttering at her calling you that way. "no, silly. i mean you, pers. no shelter nor place can compare to the warmth and safety that you provide." you muttered and arlecchino let out a soft sigh.

"is that so? then.. i'm glad to be your home." she closed her eyes, basking in the moment of having you near her after so many years of separation. "then i am proud to be the one you call home. for as long as these flames course through my veins, i will always keep you warm and safe." she mumbled as you closed your eyes as well, relishing in the long lost comfort you've longed for.

"still.. i'm happy that for once, my flames have brought a different feeling than fear.." "yeah.. we still have to work on your hugging though.. seriously, pers. you're bad at hugging!" "what- can you blame me? i was never one for affection!"

[shuenkio]

My solace | 🎞️ yjw

Paring: Jungwon x male!reader

Genre: Fluffy

Cw: nothing but somehow a demand?

Summary: You finally reunited with your solace

Non proof read/wc: 0.9

Eng is not my 1st lang.

When we first met Jungwon, he was a baby, and everything that he did was give a cuteness-aggressive trigger whenever he moved.

He's smaller than most, with a round face that’s irresistibly endearing. His cat-like eyes gleam with playful mischief, making him so adorable in your eyes that you can’t help but consider him your very own little kitty.

Forever won't last being together as friends with Jungwon; you're changing schools because of your father's work, which is at the side of the city. It's kind of sad being separated from him, but before you left, you gave him a friendship bracelet as a memory.

If he missed you, all he needed to do was look at this colorful bracelet wrapped around his wrist, which could bring him back to those old days. He did cry, but he had to let you go.

Nobody would want to separate from their own friend, especially a best friend. Nevertheless, for now, he can't do anything about it, and he hopes that he will pass by you in the future.

As you hug him for what feels like the last time, his warmth envelops you. His familiar scent lingers, and you can feel a slight tremble in his embrace. This hug, this fleeting moment, holds all the words you can't say.

"We'll meet again, right?"

"Again, we will meet, Jungwon!"

"Swear it!"

"I swear, Jungwon, I hope we'll be this close again in the future!" That was the last conversation with him, which you're cherishing the most.

He is nothing but a gift from heaven that God sent to you, yet you still can't keep him and have to leave. A Memory.

Five years later, you started your life as a junior at Seoul University. It's taking blood, sweat, and tears to get in because you're applying as a scholarship student.

The sun rises up from its sleep, and your alarm clock starts to roar at six a.m. in the morning. Wasting no time, you began to prepare yourself for your new adventure as a student at the university, which will give you a different experience from school.

While making your way to the office for your schedule for the day, you accidentally bump into a taller guy. You quickly apologize for your clumsy behavior; however, when he's response back, his voice feels familiar as it's clicked in your brain and signals you to lift up your head instead of bowing down your head. You look up to see that it's your long-lost friend, Yang Jungwon.

Eventually, when you meet someone who was once your solace back in your childhood, you are left speechless, unable to find the right word to say, as if a cat got your tongue.

Jungwon didn't hesitate to show you the friendship bracelet that you left for him as the last thing for your relationship together, pulling out his hand from his pocket and rolling his wrist for you to see along with the brightest smile you've been craving.

You throw yourself on him, wrapping your small figure around his torso desperately. You're still processing what was going on, but one thing you knew was that he's Jungwon.

Jungwon is caught off guard by your sudden move as he stumbles a little, yet he still lets you hug him, and he returns back with his hand tracing down your back, too.

"I miss you, Jungone," you mumble under your throat as you still have your hand on him. You didn't care if people were staring; being reunited with someone you love is not something you should be embarrassed of.

You continue to nuzzle your face on his chest, trying to inhale his Jonh baby powder scent, but it's like it's gone, replaced by a manly perfume instead.

"I missed you too, m/n; we finally meet again!" He flashed a smile, and his dimples were still visible on both of his cheeks, giving you a nice chill that sent down to your spine in realization. Nothing had changed at all except his height.

"You gotten so big? I thought you'd stay a baby forever." You protest, narrowing your eyes in disbelief. He was at your nose height the last time you saw him, but now he's taller than you.

"People growing up, m/n, and so do I; nothing to be surprised off of you." Jungwon is giggling at your comment while he crosses his hand around his packing chest; clearly, he's working out.

"But I still see you as a baby; I'm older than you!!" You respond by placing your palm on your hip and giving him an angry look as a joke.

"Oh, shall I call you Hyung then? Lol" "Ashh noo, just call me by my name, hyung feel... old. "

Both of you are having a great time having a conversation together, with your reunited again as your promise in a delightful feeling that intertwined once more.

This time you won't leave this comfort zone ever again; you are determined to stay here, where you called home with your friend's presence, who's more than just a friend in your eyes.

"Don't leave me again, will you, m/n?" Jungwon unexpectedly said, out of topic, as he looked at you with a serious yet soft gaze, This is not a favor but a demand. You know it every time he speaks in this tone. But you don't mind about it; you will stay no matter what.

"I won't; I will never leave you again. Jungwon—"

"Never again, my solace." 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

[todoriin]

now he's in your bed, laying on my chest. | reo mikage, 18+

no explicit nsfw but still mdni, aged up characters, reo down bad, not very realistic s3x but alas, reader's feelings are ambiguous but they eventually get their hesitation fked out, no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned, not beta read sorry.

It's 10pm and there's a purple-haired, billionaire athlete on your doorstep, knocking a little too eagerly on the door.

"There's no one in there." You interrupt, spinning your keys on your finger and Reo turns around, shocked to see you in front of him. "So banging on my door like a madman won't be productive, I'm afraid."

To your dismay, all he says is an apology when you wanted him to explain why on earth he was here.

"Are you looking for Nagi? Try somewhere else, don't think he'll ever come around again," you murmur before pushing in front of him to unlock the door. The key enters, as it always does, your door hinges creak when you open it, as it always does, and you turn around to face Reo, who has never looked as frazzled as he does now.

"I'm not looking for Nagi," the athlete mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I'm looking for you."

"Well, here I am. Aren't you supposed to be on a flight across the world right now?"

"I'm flying tomorrow morning."

Such dry and icy responses, what's up with him this evening? Reo's always so talkative but you wonder where his words and usual mannerisms have wandered off to tonight. Perhaps he's holding a grudge against you on behalf of Nagi after your breakup.

"Have a safe flight. I'm gonna go now, see you-"

"-Can I come in?"

You narrow your eyes at him, alarms blaring in your head, flashing vibrant hues of red. Still, you step aside and let him inside your humble abode. He takes off his shoes at the entrance, letting you turn on the heaters and boil some water for tea.

He takes a seat on your couch, watching you in the kitchen that's adjacent. The loud noises from the kettle fill the silence that would otherwise be too awkward, giving you time to think about why Mikage Reo would seek you out at a time like this.

It's not like you were close friends. You were only friendly with him due to his position as Nagi's best friend, and you had barely spent any time together alone before. Even now, it feels like there should be a third presence, spread out and lounging on the exact couch that Reo sits on.

"Green tea," you mutter when you place his mug in front of him. The purple-haired thanks you silently, bringing the cup to his mouth and you two remain sitting in silence.

Are you going to have to carry this conversation when he's the one that intruded?

"Why are you here, Mikage?" You question.

"Why did you really break up with Nagi?"

Count on Reo to always be so brash and straight to the point. Time is money and there is no time like the present.

"I... didn't," you explain. "He's the one that broke up with me. Just... called me one morning and decided it was best for us to go our separate ways and that was it."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. I was surprised too, I thought things were going well between us. Guess not."

"Do you resent him?"

"No."

"Aren't you going to ask me how he is?"

"Life is bigger than being curious against people who come and go. I just hope he is well and happy with where he is."

"But you aren't happy."

You meet Reo's eyes with a bewildered stare, taken aback by his boldness to assume something and speak it outright as a guest in your own home. You fear you don't have anything nice to say, so you don't speak at all, opting to drink your tea instead.

"Did you come all this way just to interrogate me about Nagi and I's breakup?" You ask.

"No, I wanted to come and check on how you were. He didn't tell me much about it, didn't even tell me how you reacted, all he said was that 'you broke up' and that was it..."

Humiliation settles itself deep in your gut. You know of Nagi's infamous nonchalance, but after everything you did and experienced together, you'd like for him to show at least a little bit of sadness. But it seems like that is still too much to ask for.

Rubbing your eyes, you will yourself not to cry. You haven't shed any tears for him yet, not wanting to do so over someone who can't even break up with you in person. In fact, you thought you were beginning to get over it, going out with a few friends tonight for dinner to try and relieve your mind of overthinking too much. Why did Reo have to come by and ruin it?

"I thought he loved you, said he wanted to marry you too," Reo murmured.

That was your breaking point and you clench the pillow in your hands to stop yourself from throwing it at him. "Yeah, well, he didn't love me enough to stay," you spit with venom dripping from your tone, rushing to the kitchen with your now empty mug.

After a moment, you hear Reo's footsteps follow you and he places his empty mug next to the sink. You don't look at him when he leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

"Do you resent me?"

"Why should I?"

"By proxy. Just 'cause ya know, I'm his best friend."

"I don't resent you Mikage, if I did then I would not have let you in my home."

Two beats of silence pass before he speaks again. "I didn't come by just to check up on you."

The sink screeches when you turn it off and the newfound silence envelopes the atmosphere like a blanket of snow. "Go on."

"Don't tell him I said this but you've always been too good for him. You deserve someone better."

You scoff. "Like?"

He steps closer and you have to crane your neck to look at him properly. You don't back down, trying your best to breathe through the heavy air as he scans your expression for any hint of rebellion.

"Me," Reo's voice is unwavering, firm with his declaration. Determination sets his indigo eyes ablaze and his hair falls to frame his face perfectly, the light of your kitchen hitting his skin in all the right places.

Then you realise just how built he is. Broad shoulders, wide chest, and he towers over you so easily, all features that come from years of athleticism. You could fall for his trap, line, hook, and sinker, but whatever little integrity you had remaining keeps you on your feet, reluctant to fall.

His thumb comes to brush your cheek and your knees buckle instantaneously. "Isn't this against 'bro code'?"

"Nagi doesn't have to know."

Oh, but it's been so lonely recently and Reo is so warm, the fabric of his sweater feels so soft, and you just want someone to take care of you, but letting that person be Reo is too risky.

Still, you trail your hands up to rest on his shoulders. "This isn't smart."

"I'm just followin' my heart, pretty."

You're the one who kisses him, pulling him towards you with a tug and his hands slam onto the counter on either side of you. It's sweet, but so short that you don't even give him a moment to close his eyes and savour the feeling. Now you're pulling away and Reo is desperate to keep you close.

With the inch you've given, Reo steals the mile, sealing your lips with his again. It gets heated too fast and now he's everywhere, hands leisurely exploring your sides as his leg settles between yours, effectively trapping you against your kitchen counter.

"Reo," you whisper weakly as he's pressing kisses against your nape, but he stops as soon as his name slips past your lips, head retracting so he can look you in the eye. "Bedroom, please."

After Nagi broke you the way he did, you felt unlovable. As if the reason he left you so suddenly was because there wasn't anything good left about you for him to continue loving. Yet, Reo clings to you like an oath, hurried hands grabbing and squeezing everything and anything he could touch.

Where Nagi was lazy and unrushed, Reo acts like you could slip away from his touch any second, but he doesn't hurt you. He never grips hard enough to leave bruises no matter how much you want him to, and he never strays too far.

Slowly, he strips you of your clothes, taking the time to appreciate you as if he'll never get the chance to see it again. His pupils dilate with every piece he gets to remove and he hovers over you before leaning down to kiss every inch of your bare skin.

Gratitude oozes off him like honey, like he's thankful that you're granting him the luxury of the sight before him, like he's the lucky one out of you two.

Reo presses into you in all the right places and doesn't suffocate you with his weight. It's mind-numbing, he's making you feel so good and you curse yourself for choosing the wrong one and losing the time you could have had with Reo instead.

Every part of you erupts with bliss when he's finally inside. It's warm everywhere, he fits so perfectly that you wonder if you were meant to find heartbreak first so you can appreciate this blissfulness even more. When you arch your body moulds perfectly to his chest, and you can't remember what you were even worried about at the beginning of the night.

The more you kiss him, the more of him you feel deep inside is like a chip to your armour.

Pure euphoria flows through your veins, intoxicatingly slow. You never want this to end, even as you gasp for air, even as your throat turns dry and scratchy and your legs lose feeling, every climax causes you to pray that he won't leave. That just because you're spent doesn't mean it is the end of the night.

As if he can hear your wishes, Reo's craving is insatiable and his warmth never strays from you.

The clock strikes 02:30 and on a normal day, perhaps you would have been asleep, preparing for the day ahead. Except tonight there is a purple-haired athlete splayed on your chest, bodies coming down from the multiple highs you've experienced together. Oddly enough, this feels like the most intimate part of the night as his chest moves in unison with yours, idle chatter filling up the space as both of you drift off.

Reo tells you something before you fall asleep but you’re too close to unconsciousness to remember, eyelids heavy and senses dulling. “My flight is early in the morning tomorrow. I’ll be gone before you wake up.” 

True to his word, he isn’t there beside you. There’s a noticeable dent in the sheets that traces his silhouette but excluding that, there’s hardly any evidence of his presence at all and if it weren’t for your sore muscles, the flicker of doubt in your mind wouldn’t have been extinguished so quickly. Then your eye catches sight of the exact sweater he wore last night, the same one that you tugged off him impatiently, it feels like a promise that he will return.

© todoriin 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site

[chikuros]

In a dream beyond eternity

ᝰ.ᐟ Vil Schoenheit x Reader

ᝰ.ᐟ In which the incident in book 7 made reader dream…

It felt like millions of memories are shoved into my head; unfamiliar, yet seems to be mine. They bear the faces of the people I hold dear, but in a slight different behavior from that I know of. But none of that matters now.

I am getting married.

I’ve been tending my hair for quite some while now, sitting in front of the vanity mirror, analyzing my appearance from head to toe before I finally walk down the aisle. Somehow, I look different from usual. Even though the reflection I’m seeing in the mirror is still undoubtedly me, but something is wrong. Again, it doesn’t really bother me. As I am going to get married.

I heard someone calling out for my name, seems like it is time. I replied to them and said that I’ll be out in a second. I stood up, and faces myself in the mirror. Ah, I am indeed breath-taking.

The chirping of the birds are music to my ears, and the reflections of the stained glass on the floor was a feast for the eyes.

Nothing could have prepared me for this day. The venue was beautiful— a small cathedral which could only fit 30 people, the place was simply decorated with flowers— red, pink, white, yellow— colors which meant a lot to me. Everything was perfect.

With each steps that I took, the beating of my heart seems to be getting stronger. Maybe it’s because of the fact that I’m over-nervous, but everyone and everything here seems to be a blur.

Ah, of course, except him.

Our eyes met. He stood there on the altar, staring at me thoroughly. Again, he’s only standing there, and my chest feels like it’s about to burst. My legs moved by itself towards the altar. A bouquet of roses I hold on my hands, counting on the meaning of the flower, eternal love.

We didn’t exchange words when I stood on the altar. Vil was perfect. Every second that passes when I stare into his eyes, a flurry of emotions struck me like a punch to my pounding chest; making me feel every sensations, all at once.

Time passes as the ceremony continues. Nothing could get me to take my eyes off him. Every inch of his being seems to be carved by the hands of god itself, even the simplest of clothing would look luxurious on him.

Oh, Vil… my Vil.

“….for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death to us part.”

We tied the knot. I took a deep breath before he lifted up my veil that has been the one separating us from each other. Now that my vision has become clear, our eyes met again. He took my hand and kissed the back of it, this alone sends tingles down my whole body.

A moment later, he took the ring and placed it on my finger, then I did the same to his. My heart is still pounding— no, at this point, my whole body is. I can’t even stop the corners of my lips from curving up. I stared at my now-occupied ring finger, there’s now a matching ring that symbolizes us. It’s beautiful. Everything about this is.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now seal this union with a kiss.”

And time suddenly stopped.

The loud cheering from the guests has turned into a deafening silence. Every movement has paused. The world seemed to be playing tricks on me somehow.

“…Valentine,” I turned to the source of voice which stung my heart, the familiar voice of a man which stood far behind the furthest seat, “….” he didn’t continue his words and stayed silent.

Vil.

Not in his wedding suit, but in his uniform. His appearance was quite ragged, his hair was messy, even some of his braids are already undone. There are small scratches on his uniform, as well as a stain. Beside him stood some more familiar faces which I recognize, but right now, I couldn’t comprehend anything properly. My memory is all hazy, and my vision is blurring.

Ah, I didn’t notice that I wasn’t burnt by the sunlight.

At that moment, the blot has started to consume me. I heard screaming and yelling of my name, but it was too late. I have fallen into the abyss.

I am weak and powerless. I am going to be a burden if I don’t hurry and wake up. I should get a grip.

Everything around me was pitch black. I hear echoes of my name being called by various people as I fall deeper into the abyss. Right now, everyone is in terrible danger. I should wake up and help them.

…Is this what I truly deserve? to drown in the deepest parts of the abyss— on my supposed-to-be wedding day?

Oh, well, no use in mourning the past.

Ugh, I can’t even muster up any energy to move, all this was exhausting. Maybe it’s the best for me to just keep on falling on this endless abyss than to face reality.

I can’t— no, truth is, I don’t even have the slightest desire to wake up. Please, good lord, merciful lord of the night, please let me dream forever.

[orbitariums]

Comfortfriend!patrick, what does Patrick do when he sees the boyfriend?

With Artashi, he was smug but quiet. Think he could pull that off with shitty bf?

Is it, All knowing smirks, firm handshakes, silently staring at you, long lingering hugs, soft kisses on the cheek, complimenting you outfit (he loves seeing your ass in a tennis skirt, he can’t wait to flip it over later)?

Or is he slight more overt? Hugs where his hands run down your back and end with him grabbing your ass in public, a cheeky kiss to the neck, stroking your shoulder whilst you’re talking, hand on your thigh, if bf makes a lewd comment about you, Patrick replies with ‘I know…’ with a look from you ‘I mean I can imagine bro’.

You try to ply bf with excuses He’s just like that, we’re known each other for so long.

But it ends up in a fight, you’re in tears abd of course running to Patrick. He hates that it’s technically his fault, but he’s happy to comfort you and work hard to make you really feel his apology.

but wow, what a moment in my career... thank u for this question, i truly never thought to expand this recoverybf!/comfortfriend!patrick au outside of the walls of his apartment and yet here we are... and what a wonderful place it is to be. still based on the song i linked below and always with black reader (anyone can read it and i don't get super specific with details anyway - i just want black girls in this fandom to have something for us <3) changed it just a bit so reader's not crying because she's PISSED! and of course she just HAS to confront patrick about it.

*+. 🎧 if you got a man we could bend the rules

recoverybf!patrick + black reader — to bend the rules

contains: cheating, jealousy, slut-shaming (once bad once hot), smut!

wc: 5.1k (was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away hehe)

even before you started "seeing" patrick — if you could call running to his studio apartment in the wee hours of the night for comfort in the form of rounds of relentless sex "seeing" him — you kept your boyfriend pretty separate from your friends. you, art, tashi and patrick were such a firm group in and of itself that it felt unnecessary and almost inappropriate to bring someone else in, even if that someone else was your boyfriend of nearly two years.

when it started getting bad with chris, you were secretly glad that you didn’t ever bring him around. your gut wrenching anxiety and reluctance when you introduced him to your friends for the first time should've been a sign. it wasn't that they were judgmental — although they were notoriously hard to impress — you just didn't feel right deep down. it didn't ever feel right to bring him around, but sometimes it was inevitable. this was one of those times.

tashi's parents were hosting a party for her birthday and to celebrate her fantastic season. you told chris about it in passing and he demanded that you should bring a date to those kinds of things because they're so "public"— as if espn would be flooding tashi's parents' backyard. you obliged because you didn't want to fight with him, but you prayed he didn't notice the way you grew more and more agitated as the day drew closer, and you obsessed over the thought of him having to interact with patrick.

it had been almost three weeks of you two hooking up behind your boyfriend's back, and it didn't take long for you to sink into a routine of it. the first time it happened, you came back home a wreck — the next few times, you didn't even think twice about it. now, it was almost as if you had to confront it head on, knowing you'd be forced to include him in your interactions with your best friends.

you were back to being a nervous wreck, flooded with guilt and shame, like you were just now realizing that what you were doing was wrong. but was it wrong? you were being mistreated, and half the time chris acted like he hated you. friends are supposed to support each other, right? and that's all patrick was doing. he was supporting you. he was just helping you. talking you through it — with his cock pushing past your folds, his lips against your ear as he ... talked you through it.

and patrick was not known for his subtlety. in fact, it was the opposite that had created that existing tension between the two of you in the first place — his intense gaze on you whenever you wore something tight, the way his jaw clicked when you even mentioned your boyfriend in passing, his touches held for an inappropriately long amount of time. you almost expected him to say something. it wouldn't be unlike him to make a sly comment about how much he appreciated chris for sharing you with him.

this worried you so much that you texted him a day before.

patrick i swear to god if you say anything tomorrow i'm gonna fucking kill you. and i will hide your body someplace no one will ever find it.

he called you right when that text went through, a grating nonchalance in his voice.

"what are you talking about?"

"you know what i'm—" you closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower: chris was in the living room nearby, "you know what i'm talking about. if you fucking say a word about me and you—"

"yn, i'm not a sadist. i'll be a good boy."

you tried to ignore the visceral reaction to the way those words sounded in his throat, grainy over the phone and so fitting with his boyish drawl. patrick wanted to laugh— he could almost hear the scowl in your voice as you replied,

"you fucking better."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

the whole ride over there, you were silent, still brooding and hoping for the worst, smoothing your hands over your tennis skirt, which you wore in homage to tashi. your boyfriend didn't say a word, as he was usually oblivious to how you felt, but that didn't stop you from gazing out the window wistfully, winding it down so you could get more air.

by the time you actually arrived, you planted a smile on your face, hoping that you could just distract yourself with the party. you were glad to use tashi's parents as a buffer for a while, chatting with them about mindless things, your boyfriend mainly driving the conversation and trying to network.

after about five minutes, you finally noticed art, patrick and tashi in the distance out of the corner of your eye, waving their hands and trying to get your attention. so as not to appear distracted, you cracked a soft smile and then returned to the conversation.

that was until you heard an all too familiar voice shouting your name over the chatter and the music. when you looked again, who but patrick was practically out of his seat, waving his hand raucously, his blue-striped shirt lifting up along with his arm to reveal the slightest shimmer of his toned stomach. that expanse of skin just above his shorts that you knew all too well — the thought of where it led made your mouth dry.

your heart dropped when tashi's parents glanced behind themselves and your boyfriend cocked his head.

"oh, looks like somebody's waiting on you," tashi's mother quipped. "we'll let you two go."

you nearly wanted to plead with them not to, but it was too late. chris took your hand and practically dragged you alongside him, when all you wanted was to stay put.

"yn!" tashi got up first, her arms flying open to wrap you in a hug. "finally you're here."

you grinned, your eyes sparkling — out of the three, tashi was who you could relate to most, and you honestly looked up to her even though she was your close friend. the two of you balanced out the loud testosterone filled energy that art and patrick created.

"happy birthday, t," you handed her your gift.

art stood up to hug you, and your boyfriend followed that order, except all he got were awkward handshakes from art and tashi. not only did they not know chris very well since you never brought him around, but they also didn't like him that much based on what you'd told them in the past.

as you stood in front of patrick, you glared at him, silently warning him that he was already doing too much.

"my favorite girl," patrick grinned. three words that were innocent enough, but also enough to cause a stir. you were glad your back was facing art and tashi, because that meant you didn't have to see the look they shared, the corners of their mouth turned up in wait.

before you could even respond, patrick had wrapped his arms around you in a hug. a hug that started at below your shoulders and then traveled down slowly, slow enough that you could feel his hands embracing your curves, like he was trying to feel every last part of you. you almost gasped when you felt the way his hands hovered just so above your ass, in a sort of game of "i'm not touching you." if you moved, or if he slid his hands just an inch down, he'd be grabbing your ass. and in that stretch of time that felt like forever, you imagined how he'd do it — how he'd push his hands up underneath your skirt and squeeze the fat of your ass in front of everyone with no shame. you almost wanted him to, but you quickly remembered where you were and who was standing right beside you.

whenever there was a line, patrick was prone to cross it. but his hands did stop, only nudging the line instead.

when he finally pulled away, clearly the one in charge of the entire interaction, your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were vibrating with anger already. you wanted to slap the shit-eating grin off his face. compared to what you two did in private, this was nothing, but in private, your boyfriend wasn't just inches away from you. he didn't stop there — one hand was still on your waist as he did a onceover of you. you knew that look in his eyes all too well. a hint of playfulness mixed with a very obvious ogling.

"wow, what a nice tennis skirt, you look like a pro. i love this outfit on you, this is very new," he said, but you knew what he wanted to say.

you flashed a tight lipped grin, choosing to take the low road,

"yours isn't. but thank you."

you stepped back, your hand on chris' shoulder as you guided him towards patrick. chris glared at patrick for just a second before he stuck his hand out. you wanted to wilt away and die when you saw that fucking smirk on patrick's face expand. the smirk you'd seen a thousand times, all with different varieties and intensities. smirking down at you slid down to your knees in front of him, your body brushing against his; smirking when you go wide-eyed at some lewd comment he'd make about your transgressions ("does he know that you like getting facials or do you only do that with me?"); smirking at your pussy when you come again after crying that you couldn't anymore, smirking when you show up to his door after saying you wouldn't anymore.

patrick gripped chris' hand firmly and they shook hands like two grown men at a business conference before chris uttered,

"patrick."

"chris! good to see you." he used his hand to playfully nudge chris on the side. "you never come out, what's that all about!"

chris chuckled,

"work is crazy."

patrick nodded, looking pensively down at the ground for a second before looking at you,

"why don't you invite your boyfriend out with us more, yn?"

you rolled your eyes,

"same reason you don't mind your business, zweig."

the night continued like that — like a game of tug of war between you and patrick, him pulling you in and you tugging back just before he could make you topple over.

while the table was yapping about something, you tried to purposefully avoid eye contact or any interaction with patrick, but you could feel the way his gaze burned into the side of your face even when you weren't talking. like he was inquiring about something. probably wondering why your boyfriend's arm has been around you the entire night. silently asking you why you allow it when you know you don't even like being touched by him for too long. at some point, he catches your eye, and he furrows his brows together slightly, biting down on his lip. you get flustered and turn away, swigging beer from the bottle.

everytime chris kissed your cheek, or showed any affection toward you— a hand on your knee, a squeeze of your arm, patrick reacted in only a way you could detect. a tick of his jaw, an eye roll, cigarette smoke blown in your direction. you pretended the smoke making contact with your cheek didn't bother you, wasn't purposeful.

drinks were flowing, the party was in full effect.

chris had one too many beers and was starting to get embarrassing.

"and this one, you know, she won't ever let me hear the end of anything," he pointed a thumb in your direction, hoping to get raucous laughter from your friends, but instead being met with meek chuckles. "just talks and talks."

patrick snorted. loudly. so loud that everyone at the table takes interest in whatever it is that he clearly has to say. he just leaned back in his chair and tossed the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table.

"she's a talker, alright."

your eyes went wide as you caught the way art covered his mouth to hide a smile, and tashi glanced over at you as if to confirm that what he just said was as damning as it sounded. a silence takes over the table for just a minute, and you try to gain your composure as you feel chris' eyes flitter from you to patrick. chris leaned in just a bit, chuckling, but not because he found it funny,

"what?"

patrick looked around for a second, feigning naivety,

"oh, i just said what you said. she gets pretty loud." he let that hang in the air, which was getting stiffer by the second. then, to recover, he nodded over at art and tashi, "but we love her for it, right?"

"yeah," tashi said hurriedly.

"of course," art tried not to snicker.

when everyone had finished their drinks, patrick took it upon himself to restock. he stood behind you, commanding the attention of the table,

"i'm seeing empty cups. anyone want anything?"

"just a water," tashi replied, and patrick pointed his finger at her,

"wrong, another beer."

he took note of everyone's drink of choice, but you didn't say anything. in what could be seen as camaraderie, he placed his hands on your shoulders and bent down slightly so he was at level with your ear. he's so close to you that you can feel his breath, accented lightly with the fermented scent of heineken, against your neck.

"you need anything?" need.

what a charged word coming from the man who had been tending to your every need for the last few weeks. he tended to your "need" for hours every time. so many times tonight, you'd almost given in, nearly fucked him right there. and although his cockiness, which you had specifically asked him not to exhibit, made you angry, you still had to practice restraint. after all, it was him. your attraction to him wasn't new, but it did triple once you finally started hooking up.

you turned your head just slightly, so you met his gaze. the two of you performed this sort of intimate dance. just two friends talking in hushed tones, as if there were more to a drink than just quenching your thirst. or maybe that was what it was. you held his gaze, letting your arousal snake around your anger and suffocate it. as if you had a choice — it was an almost primal reaction to him in your space, even if you were furious with him.

"i'm okay, thanks," you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, quietly confirming the tension you were both feeling.

you didn't miss the smug satisfaction on his face and his eyes as he registered that switch that had flicked in you. it was so slight but if anyone could notice it, it was him. he pulled his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and his lips quirked up in what was almost a grin.

"c'mon, i'll get you something. tell me what you need," his voice way too smooth and quiet to just be talking about a drink.

you held his gaze just a moment longer, and then grinned,

"surprise me."

patrick smiled, finally tearing away from you and squeezing your shoulders as he stood back straight again,

"attagirl."

as he walked away, he patted chris' shoulder, too.

you cursed yourself for being obvious, but you mostly cursed patrick for doing the exact opposite of what you'd told him to do. you shouldn't even have brought it up to him to begin with, you knew how much he got off on being ornery and oppositional. maybe if you hadn't told him not to make it obvious, he might have actually allowed the night to be normal, not charged with this weird sexual tension and energy that everyone could see, including your boyfriend.

when you get home, you didn't hear the end of it. chris was shouting at you for what felt like an hour, angry at you, angry at patrick, angry at your friends, angry at the world.

"where does he get off touching you like that, huh? 'my favorite girl', are you fucking serious?"

"babe, we're friends. seriously, i've known him for years, it's nothing. patrick's just... like that."

that doesn't cut it. he's shouting at you and berating you for what feels like an hour, directing his anger at a different person every five minutes — you, patrick, art and tashi, the world. by the time it was over, you were exhausted. when were you not, with him?

the sharp hiss of the word "slut" from your boyfriend's lips rang in your ears. to your surprise, when he said it, you laughed. you were amused at the sheer irony of it all. he's not wrong. somehow, knowing that you were about to do exactly what he was accusing you of gave you a rush of power, a sense of self-righteousness. there was no guilt, not now —you were justified in your wrongdoing, and he had just proven that to you. why shouldn't you be a slut?

you were sitting behind the wheel, your jaw tight as you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the one person who you should hate right now, but who you need the most.

i'm so fucking mad at you right now.

you leaned your head back against the headrest, perking up as he responds within the minute.

yeah. wear that skirt when you get here.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

when you showed up you didn't even bother with a greeting, gliding right past him when he opened the door, leaving him there with his hand still on the doorknob.

he was taken aback for a second, frozen in place as he registered you standing in front of him defiantly with your hands on your hips. clad in that perfectly pleated white tennis skirt and short short crop top, just the way he wanted you.

“seriously patrick, i’m upset with you,” you announced, folding your arms over your chest which only accentuated your tits more — if you weren’t so focused on being defiant you’d have noticed the way his eyes trailed down to ogle your breasts.

he blinked, his mouth slightly open as he let the door close. he considered for a moment, shrugging and opening up the discussion.

“mkay… you wanna talk about it?” he pressed his lips together and pushed them to the side like he was considering something — he doesn’t give a fuck.

you glared at him, narrowing your eyes,

“yeah, actually. i told you specifically not to say anything.”

he laughs, actually laughs, tilting his head back with a wide smile,

“i didn’t!”

“you fucking may as well have!” you hissed. “he practically yelled at me for an hour when we got back, what the fuck is wrong with you? what happened to ‘i’m not a sadist, yn’? you think you’re so fucking smart.”

“okay, okay, hey. listen. i’m sorry. okay, i’m sorry. i just… god, i hate him. i wanted to make him feel like shit, that’s all. for the way he treats you he should,” he replied, finally sounding at least slightly reasonable and sincere.

“and you decided the best way to do that was to hint that me and you fuck on a weekly basis? you couldn’t emasculate him any other way? challenge him to a match with you for god’s sake,” you bleated, your expression unchanged, but your heart warming just a bit.

“ok, it wasn’t the best way to do it. it was the first thing that came up and you know how i am anyway,” he continued, and although you were still angry you understood him, you could even reason with him.

how could you not? that was just how he was anyway, how could you possibly expect him to turn it down just because your boyfriend was around? no, you couldn’t possibly ask for that.

he stepped closer to you, making you lose resolution in your once solid glare. he watched as you started to crumple, yet open up at once.

“and plus you looked so good. you don't want me to act the way i act but... you just can’t do that to me. it’s not fair,” his voice was soft and convincing, encroaching in the right way.

it sounded like all the things your boyfriend could never be. it was full of true desire and an apologetic nature that you sought out so often from the man you were supposed to love. when you were in need of that, you could find it here. that’s why it was so hard to stop.

“hmm,” you hummed, tingles running down your spine as you glanced up at him and let your arms fall down to your sides. giving up, giving in. he let his hands rest on your hips, pulling you in just slightly so he truly towered over you.

“are you still mad at me?” he looked down at you, his voice so sweet and soft and unlike how he usually was, his deep brown eyes twinkling.

you frowned, your brow quirking, but you couldn’t even fully convince yourself. like a brat you uttered,

“yes.”

chills when he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, ever so often brushing against your bare skin exposed by the crop top. he had that stupid knowing smile on his face — stupid because not only was he being presumptuous as always but because it made you melt. it reminded you that he really did value you, that he wanted to take care of you in any way he knew how.

“well, you can’t be mad at the both of us. who’s gonna do my job?” patrick asked, like a professor readily awaiting an answer from his uninterested class.

“me,” you pouted, looking away from him. amused, patrick giggled and used a finger to lift your chin, quipping,

“oh really? you wanna show me how you do it?”

"you wish, patrick," you rolled your eyes, simply unable to ignore the way his words went straight to your core.

he could tell, past the feigned annoyance, that you were imagining it, thinking of letting your fingers trail up and down against your slit while patrick looked on with watchful eyes. maybe even lighting a cigarette and leaning back to watch you and drink in all of you. so calm and cavalier, taking drag after drag from his cigarette. you imagined how he might sit there so calm and cavalier, taking in drags from his cigarette with a nonchalant expression on his face that didn't indicate any of the arousal he felt poking through his jeans. just sitting and watching you fall apart with each needy pump of your fingers pushing past your folds — the sounds of your desperate whimpers and gushing pussy squelching as your fingers work faster filling the room. if you started to close your legs, he'd lean forward and push them apart, then sit back again. he didn't blame you for it, he was thinking about it too. you both knew he was adding that onto his mental checklist.

"hmm, i do," his fingers gripped your chin and he squeezed it gently, his deep brown eyes pouring over yours so gently, filled with so much love and appreciation. you could burst. "hey, if you're so mad at me, why'd you show up in your tennis skirt like i told you to?"

he asked this question while letting his hands smooth down over your body, reminiscent of the way he hugged you earlier in front of your boyfriend. he stopped just above your ass, his hands hovering there while he awaited your answer like it was a green light.

"i was already wearing it..." you trail off, unable to keep steady in your resolve, and he knows he’s got you.

“yeah, you’re full of shit,” patrick laughed. you felt his breath on your face, coming in heavy huffs of laughter as he leaned in.

the tip of his nose bumped against yours, his lips fanning over your own. you felt him smile against your lips as his hands drifted down and underneath the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass with his rough, worked hands, just like you imagined he would. you couldn't help the way a little moan escaped your lips, finding the slightest bit of relief at last, and all from his touch. he felt it too, a peaceful sigh escaping his parted lips. he kissed you then, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling it back slightly. hints of heineken meeting the coconut vanilla lip gloss you'd slathered on before you came here.

"i wanna make it up to you," patrick murmured against your lips, pulling you in closer by the small of your back and kissing you again, obsessed with the way the gloss made his lips glisten with the memory of you.

"yeah?" you gazed up at him, fluttering your lashes in that way you knew drove him crazy— he knew you were doing it on purpose, but somehow that intention made him all the more attracted. "how?"

that was how you ended up with your legs suspended in the air, hooked around patrick's beefy arms as he fucked into you, his cock hard and thick and rigid, twitching constantly at the sound of your moans.

"fuck, you're so fucking hot. i'm so- fuck - i'm sorry, baby," he stammered just slightly dropping that guise of cockiness for you. there's no need, you forgave him the second he bullied his gorging tip inside of you and rewarded you with that miraculous stretching feeling, a key fit snug inside a lock. you might've forgiven him even before that, when he spat on your pussy and placed a wet kiss on it before positioning his cock at your entrance.

your breath was caught in your throat, all you could feel was your body — your legs stretching back towards your head, your breasts jiggling in tandem with patrick's thrusts, sweat prickling the surface of your soft skin, your pussy getting fed with cock, stretching and molding his own and sending sensations up to your lower abdomen. you couldn't think.

" you forgive me? not mad at me anymore?" patrick asked, and usually his voice was dripping with immodesty, but this time it was ladled with desire — he wanted to hear you say the words. he was full of shit, and sometimes a dickhead, but he wasn't just some archetype. you had been friends first, and he wanted you to know that he gave a fuck.

"mm-mm," you shook your head, your eyes clenched shut. you brought your hand up to your lip to bite down on it, but patrick shook his head and swiped your hand away.

"no, no, no, none of that. i wanna hear those moans, i wanna hear how good i'm making that pussy feel," he pants, hinging on something similar to desperation.

you whimper and it trails off into a loud crash of a moan as his tip hits just right, you feel like you can feel the outline of him inside you. he moans too, readjusting so it feels like he's power fucking you, his hips gliding back and forth at a new speed, previously undiscovered, so fast and hard and yet smooth that your eyes are rolling back in your head before crashing shut again, and your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. then, at once, a raucous moan that didn't even sound like it could come out of you — not you, so soft and sweet and innocent and wet, mush under his touch.

patrick can't believe it, can hardly stomach looking down because he knows the sight of your wetness glistening on his cock, practically soaking him, will make him come in five seconds tops. he spares a glance anyway, his stomach flipping. he laughs incredulously, glancing down,

"you're so fucking wet, my god — cock just slides right in, i don't even need to — fuck — fucking try. imma make you mad all the time if this is how wet it gets you."

just a moment later he's yapping again, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't bring you closer and closer to the edge.

"tell me. tell me that you're – shit – that you're not mad at me anymore. open your eyes, want you to look at me when you say it. want those pretty eyes looking at me while you take my shit."

you shake your head furiously, forcing your eyes open even if they are low-lidded,

"n-not mad at you anymore. i forgive you, i forgive you, just fuck me, please!"

you'll be embarrassed at how easily you give in later on, but right now you wrap your arms around his back and pull him in closer to you.

patrick chuckles, astonished at just how fucking horny you could be,

"god, you're fucking easy. just need a little dick to get your head screwed on straight, fix that fucking attitude. need it from me. all you need's a little dick to be a good little slut again, yeah?"

and you barely realize it, but you're blubbering and nodding as he drives his dick deeper into you, forcing you to sink your teeth into the flesh of his prominent bicep. digging deep into you like forgiveness could be found in the warmth of your pussy.

it doesn't take long before you're bent over and he's letting the tennis skirt flutter ever so slightly over your ass, groaning as his thrusts cause the skirt to jostle around and expose more of your ass, which bounces back each time he cracks his thighs against you. he's easing in and out of your pussy and his hand has found a home in the arch of your back. nothing has ever looked so appealing to him before— twice he paused and just let you work him, fucking back onto him, while he zoned out and just admired the magic happening before his eyes. you work hard, and he's in disbelief at how much you make an honest job out of fucking back on his cock. sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyebrows raised slightly, mouth dropped just so. he's in a lull, completely in awe. when he comes, he aims it onto your ass, bending down immediately to lick it up and clean up his mess, his tongue flirting with your asshole in the process.

after the whole ordeal, he'll tell you to leave your skirt here, and sends you home in a pair of his sweats.

you don't ask why, you just watch the snapchat video he sends you not too long after of him jerking off onto it, his cum spilling out and dripping onto it, blending in with the soft white fabric. you wish you were disgusted, but it makes your mouth practically water, makes your pussy throb.

as he drills into you from behind and whispers nasty, beautiful things into your ear, you realize "slut" sounds so much better coming out of patrick's mouth than your boyfriend's.

[irides-solstice]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 . . . ⤷ [ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀꜱʀᴀ ᴀʟɴᴀᴢᴀʀ, ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ]

{ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ.}

“I told you that you wouldn’t enjoy this . . .” you mumble, shuffling your feet nervously as Asra packed your paintbrushes away. Your escapism would not be tolerated, especially not when you have a horrendous habit of stressing over piling up your studies. Studies that you keep avoiding. He tsks at you like a mother hen would to its younglings with a frown that instantly makes you feel bad. Your eyes can only stare down at the ground, ashamed at yourself. He sighs at you and shakes his head with a groan of frustration. “This is worse than I thought,” you flinch and falter at the sound of that. He sounded upset. Irritable even. You didn’t mean to burden or trouble him. Not in the slightest! . . . But you couldn’t stop yourself from avoiding the task at hand.

“Don’t hide away now, come on pretty look at me.” He speaks in an exasperated tone. When you dont, he takes matters into his own hands and reels your sight back onto him again. Hand holding your chin up so his own stern ones can strip you of your ego and pride. Yet they soften once he sees you. You. As if he can’t bare to even think of being anything but affectionate towards you. You’re quite spoilt in that regard. He clicks his tongue, making you melt under his loving eyes. But he knows now is not the time to be so soft. His eyes dart away from you with a sharp inhale. Contemplating how to handle this. “I tried to, really I did.” You began, hoping to speak confidently but your voice is meek and quiet. “I just couldn’t gather myself enough to stick to reading . . . Listen! I tried I really did but I-” You cut yourself off the moment he raises his hand to motion you to stop and backs away from you. Eyes back on you and narrowing as he observes, before quietly turning. Not another word is spoken as he walks away from you. Wait what? Is he trying to confuse you now?

Standing there dumbfounded, you gaze at his form that disappears behind the curtain. The one that separates the shop from your living quarters. Pressing shaky palms together, and loosely interweaving your fingers together. You wait. Only movement being the fidgeting with the ring on your pointer finger. A beloved gift from Asra. Its a worthy substitute for when Faust isn’t around to soothe your anxiousness. The silence is too loud now. Suffocatingly loud.

Not even the sound of Faust slithering around could be heard. You wonder if you made a mistake asking him about this. Forcing him to keep you in check. He’s patient sure, but you’ve tired him out it seems. Four hours passed and you haven’t even organised your books, let alone started to read them. Not to mention the four days you spent before even taking them out of your satchel. You’re not doing it on purpose. It just takes a lot out of you to even think about this particular reading assignment. You won’t get better at magic if you don’t read these. . . But you just can’t . . .

It really feels like an eternity before you hear the familiar footsteps rattling the creaky old staircase again.

“Took me a while to find an empty book. heh guess I shouldn’t keep using any spare paper I find to make paper bouquets eh?” He jokes to himself as he parts the curtain, finally entering the room again. Only to find you a mess, his eyes sadden at your teary eyed expression and shaky form. “Hey hey what’s all this?” Notebook immediately left on a surface nearby as he pulls you into his embrace. Petting your head with his fingers already entangled in your curls. Without a moment of hesitation even. You feel silly for thinking he would think less of you. If he is, he isn’t acting like it at all so you lean into the hug without hesitation. Pressing your cheek against his bare chest, before whispering “Im sorry.” He merely hums under his breath as you cry in his arms. He stays quiet, trying to coax a more elaborate response from you once you’ve calmed down. Opting to ground you with his presence instead. “Shh, don’t fret so much. You’re fine,” he hushes your quiet sobs. It’ll be a while before you speak, before you gather the courage to speak. But he doesn’t really seem to mind. Humming to himself as he gently rocks you side to side, he seems content. Mimicking the morning ritual he uses to get the two of you less disoriented early morning.

“I don’t know . . . ” You finally admit causing him to pause and pull your closer. His hug getting tighter. “I thought I could handle this, I really did. But the more I look at the pile of books I need to comb through to understand I just . . . I can’t.” Despite your reluctance to face reality, you can’t stop yourself from confiding in him. You can’t stop yourself from admitting to him the reality of your situation. You dont want to hide from him at all. You’re procrastinating out of fear, and now you feel like you’ve destroyed the admiration he has for you. As if that’s even possible. Yet in your mind this isn’t the first time you’ve failed even starting a magical assignment. You thought you’d get better over time. Better at not running away, but you havent. You really can’t help but run away. “I’m not so brave after all,” you whisper. His hand hands shift away from your waist and to your shoulders before he nudges you to look at him. “It’s okay,” an endearing whisper with no hidden disappointment makes you relax. “We’ll get through these books together okay?” His soft airy voice calms you down, “you’re the bravest person I know. This is nothing to be upset about. You know i’ll always help you through this right? Its tough. I knowwww,” he draws out the w sound as he twirls you around so your back is to his chest and towards the messy desk. He doesn’t let you move away just yet. “but you my dear, you’re more stubborn headed than any of these thick spell books, I can assure you that much.” His teasing tone emerges again as he taps your forehead with the back of his knuckles. Huffing you wipe the runaway tears away with your wrist. “You’re not alone. Not as long as i’m here.” He sighs out as his head rests upon yours. Arms cradling your hips and drawing soothing circles on them. “It’s okay to need more than a little help sometimes. Everyone needs someone, and i’m more than happy to be just that and more for you my love.” Shifting you stare up at him, “even if I finish your entire tea supply within weeks?” He grins back down at you, “even if you cause my heart to be torn into two.”

[ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @saradika-graphics]

Purely self-indulgent fic . . . don't @ me I need soft Asra 😔

[muscle-red]

𓂃꒰ GENERAL’S ORDERS ꒱𓂃

* Warnings: amab body, Fae reader, Reader is referred to with I/You, etc, Yuu is a separate person, Reader kinda an OC, unprotected sex, degradation, overstimulation, a long plot, Lilia’s a Top, slow burn, Spoilers if You haven’t read book 7.

* Word count: 1009

A/N: This is probably gonna be a story. This has been in my head for some time. The smut won’t be in this one but I’ll make more parts!

┆ Lilia Vanrouge/ General Vanrouge x Male Reader ┆Part 1

+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Being In the middle of the woods should’ve been a red flag as soon as you opened your eyes Cause One second, You were At NRC then the next You were at a random forest being aimed at with weapons. I mean at least you were with People.

You glanced at the group surrounding you and the people with you. Yeahhh the odds weren’t looking so well.

Silver. The boy You never really interacted with. He was sorta Hard to talk to. His face gave off the impression that he didn’t want to be disturbed. He look quite Approachable when sleeping but why would You wake up a sleeping person? You noticed he did it a lot and I mean A Lot. Maybe he had narcolepsy? You never thought much of it. I mean why would you, You never talk to the boy so it isn’t any of your business.

You then glanced at the other green haired male within your group.

Sebek.

What a loud mouth he was. You often catch him yelling in the hallways and seemingly having a strong harden expression on his face whenever he made eye contact with everyone in class. He was a first year so you guys had most of your classes together while the other silver haired boy was a second year. They were both in your dorm last time you checked. You would think being in the same dorm would mean you guys knew each other really well but in this case? not really.

Then finally Your eyes met the other Person in your group. Yuu. A magic less student that seemingly appeared out of thin air. No home, no family. You kinda felt bad for them. Imagine having nothing and being in a mysterious place with No Knowledge of anything. Now that was a total nightmare. They were a first year as well as you interacted with them on some occasions so you were familiar with their Situation and Arrangements. They were nice from what you can tell but the other 2 were a mystery.

You then Took your eyes off the random group that seemed to have roped you in some kinda crazy situation and finally looked at the people with masks and weapons that were obviously wanting you guys dead. They all wore different masks with seemingly different animals.

One stood up and Made way to your group. They were on the shorter side and had long black locks with red highlights. How pretty. You always liked the color red.

You couldn’t see their eyes nor face but you can tell they were studying your group’s movements.

“ HUMANS!-“ Another in a mask screeched.

He was taller than the one studying you and had a mask related to a fox due to the Snout on his mask. His sword was raised as if ready to strike us any moment where we stood however before he could, The shorter one raised his hand and turned away from our group to stare the other one down, well he tried to.

“ You fools… Take a closer look at the energy around them. They have been blessed by our people. They are not the enemy.”

His voice was deep and familiar.

“Blessed…? Who are you…?”

“However, they still raise suspicion.” He ignored Silver’s question and turned away from his comrade. He had quite a big sword compared to his small body and it Was a beautiful shade of green.

Sebek’s eye’s widen when his eyes made contact with it.

“A magical lithic…!?”

“Quiet, Human. You are not to speak.” The Black haired masked figure Said, once again shutting down Whatever we had to say.

The rest of the group with them looked down upon us and started Yelling out questions expecting us to explain every single one.

“Who are you children? Answer me.”

“Speak now if you do not wish to get hurt.”

Yuu’s cat, Grim, which you now noticed was here Started struggling and proceeded to yell out about not wanting to be eaten and you couldn’t agree more.

“W-we mean no harm. We are just students from a magic school!”

Sebek was able to Stammer out and you couldn’t be more grateful. Your voice just seemed to disappear and couldn’t say anything so for once, you were grateful for Sebek’s voice.

“We’re from Night Raven College, We have our IDs with us if you’d like to check!”

Great thinking yuu!

“Night Raven College, you say…?”

“Yes, from the Sage’s Island…”

“I’ve already said I’m not interested in a school founded by humans!, You wish to “teach” me magic when all your lot can do are childish tricks? Sending in lackeys as if the letters weren’t enough. How absurd. You really think you have anything you can teach me? Don’t look down on me, brats.”

“Ehh??? We never said anything! Where is this coming from!? “

Oh god, why did you have to say that. You couldn’t help but Facepalm in your head. Great thinking *Reader*.

“N-No, we’re-”

“I’ve got my hands full dealing with those pesky Silver Owls. I don’t have time to play your silly games.” He cut silver off once again and glared as if ready to just let his comrades kill us and move on.

“I’ll let you off just this once. Get out of here, humans.”

And with that, you guys took the opportunity to Run quite a distance away and blow off the Air that you guys so badly needed. It felt intoxicating being near strangers especially ones threatening you with weapons.

[bakudekublogblog]

they know what they’re doing and they’re trying to kill me personally