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harunovella · 3 months

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language; s.g.

synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)

Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.

Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.

So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.

He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students.

In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.

It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.

There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.

The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"

"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.

"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.

Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."

"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.

Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...

Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.

"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."

"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"

Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"

"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"

"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."

Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"

"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."

Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"

"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."

Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."

#haruno writes;#satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #reader insert #fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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honestsycrets · 10 months

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Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise.

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd.

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.”

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel. He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion.

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?”

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue.

Until that morning.

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--”

“He asked for you.”

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve.

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body. Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body.

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection.

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go.

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?”

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?”

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla."

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked.

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call.

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.”

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

“Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?”

“It’s who I am.”

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!”

“¡Callate!”

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms.

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors.

“Say it.”

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him.

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.”

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.”

“All fours-- face down.”

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!”

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.”

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted.

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!”

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--”

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!”

Miguel chuckled.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?”

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.”

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #Miguel ohara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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2hightocare · 15 days

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from the vault🤍🤍🤍 kuwtb dating era.

"You need to be quiet, baby," Jungkook whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You weren't good at being quiet, something Jungkook knew, but he loved putting his girlfriend to the test. Here you both were in your childhood bedroom, locked doors, past midnight, with your parents sleeping down the hallway.

You lay on your small bed, the pink covers down to your belly, as Jungkook leaves purplish marks on your neck. Your core dripping and soaking the lace panties you're wearing. A small chuckle escapes your boyfriend as he runs a finger through your wet folds, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip.

"You know how bad I am at being quiet... fuck," a soft moan escapes your lips as he attaches his mouth onto your nipple, twirling his tongue around the bud before sucking and occasionally biting, which has you throwing your head back and pulling on Jungkook's hair.

"That's the fun of it, baby," he stares up, giving your nipple a flick.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you watch your boyfriend throw the covers off the bed before settling in between your legs, your pink panties soaked.

—the small wet patch in the middle has Jungkook's cock twitching in his sweatpants.

"Mine," he leaves a chaste kiss on your pussy. You suck in a breath as you watch your boyfriend pull down your now-ruined thong-throwing it somewhere in your room. His tattooed hand spreads open your legs.

A desperate little cry leaves your lips as Jungkook attaches his mouth onto your pussy, licking a wet long stripe-strings of wetness and saliva mixed together whenever Jungkook separates his mouth from your aching cunt.

Jungkook doesn't waste any more time before attaching his mouth once again before ravishing your folds like there was no tomorrow. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, the wet sounds from your pussy covering your soft high-pitched moans.

"Fuck, I c-can't," You whine, your fingers tugging harshly on your boyfriend's hair to pull him off, but his grip on you is much tighter. His tongue flicks rapidly on your sensitive bud, sucking on it occasionally, making it puffy and swollen. You have a white pillow over your face, trying so hard to contain the moans you so badly want to let out.

"I'm gonna come, fuck, fuck, fuck, ah," you squeak.

The moment your eyes roll to the back of your head, about to let go, Jungkook quickly detaches his mouth from your pussy with a loud pop.

"What the fuck?" You whine, your voice muffled from behind the pillow, which has Jungkook snatching the pillow away from your face. A disheveled, pouty you stares back at Jungkook, making him laugh before dropping down to kiss your face.

"That was mean," you pout, your hands wrapped around your boyfriend's neck pulling him down, making him fall on top of you.

"Baby, I'm going to squeeze you to death," Jungkook lifts a bit of his weight, giving your lips a wet, lazy kiss.

"What a heavenly way to die," you hum happily.

"You're cute, baby," Jungkook jokingly bites your cheek, which has you giggling and pulling away. "Stop, ew!" you joke, pushing his face away before wiping his saliva off your cheek with a giggle.

"Ew? Two seconds ago I was just eating yo-" Jungkook gets interrupted with a small hand on his mouth.

"Shush, you're so loud," you hush. Jungkook only nods before licking your palm; you quickly retract your hand with a low giggle.

"Okay, baby, where are the condoms?" Jungkook quickly stands up from the bed, going directly to the place his girlfriend is pointing at. "There's only one left, remind me to buy more," Jungkook says quietly before making his way back to bed, dropping his sweats, letting his cock spring free before jumping back into bed with you.

"Hi," he says before ripping the condom open with his teeth.

"Hi," you reply back with a giggle.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jjk #bangtan #fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk smut

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yandere-romanticaa · 6 months

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The deep corners of the sea harbor many secrets. Be it countless lives which were claimed by the tides, ancient tales of a bygone era, or perhaps something even darker, something so great that the feeble human mind could not even think of comprehending.

The murky waters hid many things indeed. But for the Duke, his little secret was not so ancient, something not so important in the ultimate grand scheme of things.

It only mattered to him and only him.

He gazes fondly at his secret as he sips tea in the cafeteria, taking a break in a highly conspicuous area simply because he was the Duke and he could do as he wished.

He could have you at any moment he desired. The sentence was prolonged for absolutely no reason and searching for one was pointless. The Duke has his reasons, the staff would say. Run along now and go back to your duties. If you keep slacking off you'll starve.

Wriothesley liked to play favorites when it came to you.

That became evident to some of the staff very fast.

He had it arranged that your meals be of, at the very least, decent quality. No mystery meat for you or any rotten vegetables. If you consumed any of that your health would be in jeopardy. He could always just give you a proper meal or maybe even a downright good one but that would arise too much suspicion from the inmates and he was not in the mood to hear them complain. One day, the chef decided to be bold and serve you a wretched meal on purpose, just to test his hypothesis.

As expected, Wriothesley gave him an earful even if he never actually said anything about you. His bias was still evident and nothing could hide that.

Wriothesley liked to consider himself as an honest and a frank man. Like all people he had his secrets and his own cross to carry but if he could he wanted things to be done right in the open. No mysteries, no hesitance. If you were not a prisoner in the Fortress, Wriothesley would already have you on his arm. He was also aware of his imposing presence, the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off. The power imbalance was simply too large between the two of you.

Therefore, like the predator that he was, he bid his time. He locked away his rawest feelings deep in his heart and hid the key, never wanting to throw it away.

He wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to seek him out.

Oh, to be loved, to be wanted by another human being. What a foreign yet pleasant thought. Wriothesley knew you did not see him in that light but damn it all if he does not try. All of the cards are in his hands and he has dealt you yours. The only option left is for you to play straight into his hand.

The thought of sharing a cup of tea with you made his heart soar. Patience was indeed a virtue. And fortunately for him, the Fortress of Meropide had taught him that skill a long time ago.

🖤 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @saturnalya, @alatusprinz, @lakxcpsta, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @ficsreblogs, @goldenglow149

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yancore #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #yandere wriothesley #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines

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ellievickstar · 2 months

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Pretty Lies

A/N: THIS THOUGHT STRUCK ME AS I THOUGHT OF THE MEME SO LIKE BEAR WITH ME FOR A MOMENT OKAY??? also i gave up valentine week, i want to write a lot does not mean i want to stick to a schedule.

Summary: Cassian has some questions about you and Azzy's relationship, and because you are both very private people you choose not to answer Cassian truthfully, but what will happen when he decides to test your answer out?

Request: Nope.

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Warnings: Fluff. I'm in my soft era okay??? shush. This is set before even Amarantha so somewhere between the first war and the curse.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Cassian glanced between you and Azriel, both of you had been speaking through the mating bond, thus it was mostly silent. Truth to be told, your bond was quite new and Cassian had not really heard you both interact with each other since you both confessed your love.

"Hey...I have a question," Cassian spoke up, raising his hand slightly. You cocked your head curiously, waving a hand to encourage him to continue.

"Do you guys use pet names?" Glancing at Azriel, he shrugged.

"No," You said simply.

Narrowing his eyes, Cassian internally scoffed. He did not buy it, not for one moment. Azriel may have been the most quiet among the three of them but he knew for a fact that Azriel was probably the most affectionate behind close doors. Azriel cared in a way that was quiet, a way that did not draw attention. The smallest details that hinted to the fact that the shadow singer cared more than he let on.

Cassian nodded to himself, he would reveal your lies and expose them for what they are, this was his true purpose in life.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

His plan commenced during dinner.

Waiting for the proper moment to strike, he suddenly piped up when you and Rhys were deep in conversation, Azriel was listening to Amren closely as she complained about how boring her life was now.

"Hey, Y/N, what do bees make?" Cassian asked slyly. Hesitating for a second, you gazed at him before answering, "Honey?" It was then that Azriel suddenly said, "Yes, Sweetheart?" Mor exploded into laughter, Amren hummed her amusement and Rhys grinned like a wild cat.

Blushing a deep red, you turned your head to hide your face in Azriel's arm, his hand coming up to stroke your hair while your body shook from trying not to laugh, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"I KNEW IT," Cassian screamed, "YOU LIARS TOLD ME YOU DIDN'T USE PET NAMES, HOW COULD YOU LIE TO ME," Wincing at how loud he was, Azriel shot Cassian a pointed glare in which Cassian quieted down, sulking slightly as he dramatically collapsed back in his chair, clutching his chest from 'heartbreak'.

"I'm sorry Cass, but you're not the most...subtle person," You tried. You were trying to not snicker and be kind about it but he gasped louder. "I can be subtle. I am soooo subtle," He rolled his eyes.

"So if I told you I found my mate would you be calm?" Rhys joked. However, Cass's eyes widened at Rhys, his eye balls seemingly almost popping out. "I'M THE LAST ONE LEFT WITHOUT A MATE????"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Bonus:

"Never lie to my face every again," Cass whined, chuckling you nodded, Azriel's wing tucking you closer to his side, ready to scoop you up once you were done talking to Cass so you could retire home for the night.

"I promise I will tell you every detail, even how Az-"

"NEVER MIND!"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: hope this was fun to read heheheh see y'all next time <3

Azriel taglist: @chessebookgirl (if you guys want to be tagged in any character fics please tell me and I will happily add you <3)

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff

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eluxcastar · 2 months

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Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat.

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it.

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

Hi, I just want to say your writing is amazing! Like I myself personally am a switch but your Dom fics fill me up with so much goodness it keeps me existing. (Also you've now converted me to a Vox simo as well how dare)

I do have a small request if you don't mind ofc. I'd love to see some sub!Lucifer and with one of the ideas with his shapeshifting boy cunt.

Perhaps he off handedly mentions he can change his sex if he wants and reader takes him up on the offer?

No pressure if you don't do this request! Please take care of yourself first and all the wonderful things

a/n — I love your profile pic! Also this shit is so hot to me but… unless you frequent this blog. I genuinely don’t know who this is for. Lowkey in my flop era.

warnings — boycunt, dom reader, sub Lucifer, oral sex, implied afab reader, use of a strap, aggressive fingering

summary — Lucifer alerts the reader that with his shapeshifting powers, he can also shapeshift his sex. This leads to the reader suggesting a fun night of toying with his pussy.

“I’m sorry, you can what?” You had asked in utter disbelief.

“Change sex,” Lucifer said, far too nonchalantly, “Wait, you didn’t pick up on that? With the whole shapeshifting thing—”

He waves his hand around as if to jog your memory.

“I mean, no, I did not pick up on that. It’s not exactly a common practice, Luci,” You laugh in genuine shock, and utter arousal at the idea.

“Well, what can I say?” Lucifer rubbed his chin as if he was thinking, before turning to you with a proud smile, “I’m a man of many talents.”

“You got that right,” You say, “So, we’re trying this out then tonight, right?”

He pauses, rubbing his neck, “I don’t know, it’s really been a minute since—“

“Come on, Luci, it’ll be fun,” you smile, “And very interesting. Oh, and hot, by the way.”

He pauses, considering the idea.

“You know, what the hell? Only if you really want to test it out, sweetie,” he chirps.

Oh, you really did.

Later that night, after what felt like an agonizingly long day, it doesn’t take long for you to pull him aside from the hotel, into your shared bedroom. You kiss each other hungrily, not tearing into his clothes yet, but instead giving your attention to his lips and jawline.

He wraps his arms around your neck as you hoist him up and sit him down on the bed. Finally, then you start to unbutton his shirt.

He scoots back further on the bed, unclothed on the top half of his body and legs slightly open, inviting you.

You don’t hesitate to crawl towards him, fingers lightly grazing the area on his thighs closest to his crotch, before finally unbuttoning his pants.

You’re slow with your movements though, taking it one moment at a time, kissing him gently as you pull his pants down.

He catches your hand right before you tug down his boxer, “Oh, and darling. Don’t hold back.”

You smile slightly before feeling down the crotch of his underwear, making him suck in breath, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The bottom of his boxers are damp, you rub your fingers against the patch, “Wet already? I haven’t even done anything.” He hissed slightly at your teasing.

“A-ah, hurry up then,” he adds quickly, “Please.”

You pull the waistband down, and sit back to look at what you’re dealing with.

You can’t help but gasp when you see his wet pussy, open and waiting for you.

“Something wrong?” Lucifer sits up slightly, brows furrowing.

“You’re beautiful,” you say softly, meeting his eyes only for him to turn away.

Before he could give you a response, your fingers tease the outside of his cunt, making him softly whine in anticipation.

You make a show of bringing your fingers up to your lips and licking them slowly. Finally, bringing one down and easing it into Lucifer’s already glistening pussy.

“Oh god,” he whimpers, squirming slightly. You shush him and move your hand gently, swirling it around and relaxing him into it.

It doesn’t take long for you to tease his entrance with a second finger, looking at him first for reassurance.

When you get a shaky nod, you plunge your second finger in, stretching him out and making him whine.

Another finger is added, and Lucifer squirms restlessly, letting out breathy whines and you work your fingers in him, moving faster and faster than before.

“Oh fuck,” He moans, squeezing his eyes shut, “More, dammit, I need more. Please.”

He wasn’t fully gone, but if you kept going at the pace you were going at he would be soon. Unfortunately, you were running out of fingers.

You kept going for another few more moments, movements becoming more and more aggressive because, Lucifer couldn’t help but beg for it to be ‘harder’ or ‘faster.’

“Deeper, oh my god. Deeper, please,” he pleads, voice getting louder, surely carrying over from a few hallways.

Instead of immediately obliging, you pull your hand out of his pussy completely. He whines and practically tears up at the emptiness.

“Patience, Luci. I won’t just leave you high and dry, don’t worry.” Well, maybe high and dry wasn’t the best analogy.

You quickly reach over to the bedside table and open a drawer, pulling out your strap and getting situated.

Lucifer watches and whines with every movement you make, becoming more desperate the more he waits.

Finally you lean down to his legs, and kiss up his thighs. You suck at the soft skin on the upper hidden parts, drawing out whimpers from him.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me,” he whimpers and throws his head back into the pillow, arching his back when you lick up his hickeys, and almost make it to his cunt, before pulling away.

“All in good time, sweetheart,” you abruptly throw his legs over your shoulders and plunge into his tight cunt.

He lets out a loud moan and arches his back, hands coming up to his hair. You lap up his pussy hungrily and it doesn’t take long for him to fully wrap his legs around your head, pushing you in deeper.

You suck his swollen, soaking clit, eliciting excited whines from the other side of the bed. Subconsciously, your nails dig into to skin of his already bruised thighs while you eagerly eat him out.

He was babbling anything he could think of, and loudly at that, “More, more, darling. Don’t stop!”

You wouldn’t dare. Or at least not right now, your tongue buried deeply in him, sucking at his puffy clit, soaking him up completely.

Lucifer writhes beneath you, moaning and thrashing around rapidly. Although you don’t notice, his wings sprout out, making terribly flapping motions and causing a large breeze of him in the room.

You’re aware of this, and yet, you don’t pull away, yet. You wanted to keep tasting him, lick him dry, milk him for all he’s worth.

He moaned wildly, practically wailing from the way your tongue continuously slammed against his clit.

“Close. Fuck, honey, i’m so close,” He cries, tearing boiling over his eyes and spilling through his fluttering lashes.

Finally, you pull away from him. He looks up at you in disbelief. He was Absolutely horrified at your neglect towards his pussy, if only for seconds.

You only smile and lick your lips, positioning yourself to finally use the strap Lucifer had long forgotten about.

“Oh my god, finally. Yes please—“

You cut him off by thrusting into him in one slick motion, the cum coating his pulsing pussy making it easy.

He yelps and whines, leaning up to you and wrapping his arms around your neck once again. You position him on your lap momentarily, letting his legs wrap around your torso.

Then you lean him back on the mattress, legs still slinked around your middle. You lean into his neck while you thrust into him at a rough pace.

“Oh my, nngh, deeper. God, deeper,” Lucifer babbled incoherently.

You respond in gently shushes and praise, “That’s right sweetie, taking it so well. Your pretty pussy’s taking me so well, baby.”

He whines, growling loudly, wings once again flapping rapidly and tossing objects every way off of nightstands. His eyes are bright red, but not noticeable when paired with how close his eyelids are to fluttering shut.

Tears stain his pretty cheeks and he cries out for more, and you deliver. You go thrust quickly and aggressively, just as requested.

“My pretty boy. My princess. My sweet baby,” you coo sweet nothings into his ear while you fuck him roughly, breath becoming ragged from the friction and the restless motions.

His claws dig into your back and carve down it, “Oh, ‘m so close, so close. Nngh—“

You slam yourself further into his pussy, almost animalistically, evoking demonic and wild noises from Lucifer. You were sure people from down the street of the hotel could hear him, and you were glad.

Finally, he let out one final, deafeningly loud moan and released all over your strap. He clung onto you for long moments, catching his breath.

At last, he pulled back, looking at you starry eyed and lying back down on the mattress.

“We should…” he sighs dreamily, “…do that more often.

“Oh, honey,” you pull out but then drag your hand from his stomach to his hips, nearing his crotch. “What makes you think we’re done?”

He hisses in a breath, “Oh, wait too— too much. I can’t—“

“What is it you said to me earlier?” You tease his clit softly with your pointer finger, “You remember don’t you?”

He hesitates, blush rising as he looks at you.

“Don’t hold back.”

a/n — I really hope this doesn’t flop guys 😰 lately I haven’t been doing as swell as usual, I dunno. 🤷‍♀️

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #inbox open #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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sthavoc · 1 month

Note

Hi bestieeee, can I request something cute ? It could be short if you like.

You never call Enzo by his name he is used to hearing “mi amor” or whatever you like but when you say his name for something he’s like the confused pikachu meme like what did I do wrong? Who you talking to cuz that ain’t me I’m the love of your life future father of your children EXCUSE YOUUU TREAT ME WITH SOME RESPECT.

Thank you !! 💖

*๑՞ 🍏 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: you decide to pull a little prank on your boyfriend, wanting to see his reaction to you calling him by his name.

·˚ ༘ warnings: I believe it’s only fluff (if not i’m sorry)

·˚ ༘ note: guys i’m finally on spring break!! I can write more fics now! this one is a small blurb <3 i’m sorry if there’s any grammar mistakes.

The times you’ve called Enzo by his name could be counted. Those few moments could be times when the two of you would either fight or be on serious topics. Apart from that, his name wouldn't be a part of your daily vocabulary around him, or on the list of names you were used on calling him.

But today, you decided to see and test the waters. What would his reaction be to you randomly calling him by his name? Right now both of you found yourselves in the kitchen after you guys had gotten back home from doing your grocery shopping.

You thought this was perfect timing for you to ask him for something.

“¿Enzo, me pasas las manzanas por favor?” And there was his reaction. You tried to ignore it, but the facial expressions he had were difficult to dismiss. Your lips quivered from trying your best not to break character, you even had to seal them completely.

“¿Cómo me llamaste?” He spoke with confusion and astonishment in his tone. You never looked up from what you were doing and continued to put the groceries away.

“¿De qué hablas?” You followed along. The smallest of smiles broke from your lips when your back faced him and he wasn’t able to see any sign of facial expressions on your face.

“Me llamaste Enzo.” He sets both palms on the cold stone of the kitchen counter, his knuckles bending with the action. By this moment you had turned towards him again but continued to move.

“Pero si así te llamas amor.” You played dumb.

“No, no—” He points with his index before making his lips damped with his tongue. “Para vos yo soy tu “mi amor”, futuro marido, el padre de tus futuros hijos, el amor de tu vida.” You were trying your very best not to laugh right now. He appeared offended from hearing his name coming out of your lips.

You couldn't hide the smile on your lips, and he realized it. The crease that formed between his brows hadn't missed the way your cheeks grew for the smile. Which was when he asked—

“¿Por que sonreís?” he continued to look annoyed as you continued to smile.

You shook your head trying to cover your smile, but you were failing to. “Era una bromita amor.”

A smirk appeared on his lips, where he stuck his tongue inside his lower lip with a small shake of the head. “Ah ¿una bromita eh?” He copies. He had walked closer to you, his hands had found its way to your waist. “Pues tus bromitas me van a dar algo chiquita. Pero todo lo que dije es verdad eh.” He points.

“Lo se, y lo siento.” you whisper genuinely. Your eyes looked up at him while you continued to share your smile.

His index finger and thumb rested on your chin while the lack of space stayed between the two before he leaned in to share a gentle kiss. A kiss from which you were able to hear the smooch after you both pulled away.

“respeto, nena.” He said.

And you knew that the man meant for you to have respect for him, on knowing how to call him. It was mostly banter, but he did prefer for you to call him any cute pet name than his name. A million times.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x you

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01zfan · 4 months

Note

hii could u write about eunseok and reader secretly dating in college ; like hes the cool boy who��s always helping us and when we do a joke he says its not funny just to see the reader smile ! and the reader is literally the sweetest girl + shes funny BUT one day reader go to college with a hickey from eunseok and their friend group (who doesn’t know about them dating) make suppositions about who she’s fucking behind her back (not in a mean way ofc !!!) and eunseok just happened to be with them at this moment ! soo he could get jealous and hint that she’s dating him etcetc till reader join her friends and sits right next to eunseok or wtvvv you can make wtv you want for the endung haha

hi anon! i hope you like what i did with your request, thanks for sending one in heh

hot girl semester | s. es

secret!bf!eunseok x reader | 2.6k words

mainly fluff and a little suggestive. basically the reader is supposed to be in her hot girl era but that is impossible when she’s immediately locked down by eunseok (she’s just like me). not proofread.

contains: making out. a lil bit of jealousy. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding

eunseok met you through a mutual friend. he had you in introduction to psychology but could never bring himself to say a word to you. you on the other hand, said hello to eunseok every time you passed by him on campus. whether it was in the quad or in a testing hall, whether you were alone or with your friends you never hesitated to wave your hand at him and say “hi eunseok!”. your chipper voice and cute smile had become engrained in his head. eunseok just couldn’t figure out why you wanted to say hello to him so badly.

he was eating with his friends at the dining hall when he saw you before you saw him. you were browsing the different food they had available for the day.

“that’s the girl i was talking about earlier.” eunseok points to you. the whole table turned their head in unison.

“don’t all look at once!” eunseok wastes his breath, because they all stay staring at you across the dining hall.

“oh, that’s who you were talking about?” sohee finished his food a long time ago. he pauses whatever he’s watching on his phone to look at you.

slowly, everyone at the table figures out it’s you who eunseok is talking about.

“she’s like the sweetest person ever.” sungchan says in between a bite of food.

“she’s always like…hi shotaro.” shotaro says copying the infliction in your voice.

sungchan laughs and points at shotaro.

“that’s exactly what she sounds like. she’s adorable.” seunghan says.

“me and her are pretty close.” anton looks up from his assignment just for a moment to add to the conversation.

everyone else at the table was indifferent to what anton said. eunseok found himself taking an interest, turning to anton.

“how so?” eunseok tried not to pry. one thing his friends were good at was giving him a hard time.

“well we were in the same orientation group and we just stayed in contact. she’s probably the sweetest person i’ve ever met. she’s really smart too.” anton said casually.

“outta your league.” sohee says, not looking up from his phone.

“womp womp.” seunghan gave eunseok a thumbs down.

“i can’t ask questions?” eunseok said.

“she’s coming over here.” sungchan’s teasing voice was about five octaves higher than his normal one.

when you made eye contact with eunseok, sungchan elbowed him playfully. you came towards his table with a group of your own, girls eunseok did not recognize.

“hey guys!” you waved at everyone at the table individually. eunseok watched as all his friends smiled and waved back at you. your kindness had that effect of people. eunseok tries to recall seeing wonbin smile as big as he did when you playfully pulled at his beanie.

“you know it’s summer right?” everyone at the table laughed. eunseok felt himself holding back a smile.

eunseok watched as you intermingled friend groups. you introduced your girls to his friends, some of them already knowing eachother.

“now we are all acquainted, can we sit here?” giselle, one of your friends asked.

“yeah the dining hall is packed and you guys are taking up alot of the seating.” you said.

everyone at the table looked towards eunseok. eunseok was too busy looking at you looking at him to notice all eyes on him.

“eunseok is thinking.” shotaro laughed looking up at you from the table.

“of course you can sit here.” eunseok started moving everyones things to the side “move over guys.”

“wahh.” sungchan moved to the other side of the table to sit next to wonbin.

“our cool guy eunseok.” anton smiled. anton didn’t move, giving you space to squeeze in next to eunseok.

your friends quickly chose seats. giselle and winter sat inbetween to shotaro and sungchan, bahiyyih sat next to anton, and sullyoon went by seunghan.

you squeezed in by anton, sitting next to eunseok. everyone went into chatting amongst themselves, many of them sharing the same classes. you watched bahiyyih and anton talk about their sociology class, helping eachother sign into the classes groupchat for study groups. you and eunseok were the only ones completely silent at the table.

“hey eunseok.” you couldn’t stop smiling. eunseok’s ear started becoming red. were you teasing him? he didn’t know anything except for the fact that he was smiling hard for no reason.

you and eunseok eventually started a conversation, but eunseok couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. he couldn’t wipe it away when you touched his arm, or when you snuck him your number underneath the table. you and your girls left eventually to get to class, while the boys stayed a little longer. eunseok had to remain neutral, trying to not bring any attention to himself. he kept your number safely in his pocket until he made it back to his dorm room.

eunseok texted you first. he was the one who took the leap to ask you to come over and hang out while shotaro was gone. of course, you knew what this hangout was going to be. within ten minutes of walking through the door, eunseok’s lips were on yours. before you knew it, you were waking up the next morning in eunseok’s bed. he had his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in close. you unwrapped his arm from yours, successfully not waking him up. you left just in time, turning the corner to see shotaro knock on the door before going in. you cursed yourself for leaving behind your bra. you made the trek back to your apartment, thinking about the night before.

giselle eyed you when you came through the door of your shared apartment.

“i thought you’d be at class by now?” you said. you didn’t look too disheveled, but still it was obvious you had a night of fun.

“i don’t have class on tuesdays.” giselle laughed. she was sitting on the couch and pointed at your shared calendar “did someone fuck your memory away?”

“giselle!” you grumble.

“i’m not the one to judge. hot girl semester, right?” giselle said looking at you from the couch.

“right.”

you forgot about the goal you and giselle set for this semester. focusing on school, not making time for men besides the occasional booty call.

“no catching feelings.” giselle pointed at you mockingly.

“it was a one time thing, giselle.”

you went into your room and shut the door. you made a promise to yourself to not see eunseok again. this lasted only a few minutes after eunseok texted you saying how badly he wants to see you again. and that you left your bra, that shotaro almost found. it’s no surprise you were at his house the next night. and the night after that. anytime shotaro would be gone you were there. giselle never questioned it, but you believed she was bringing people over as well.

casual hookup turned to dates, and friends turned into dating. you had your reservations though, dating someone so close to the school year starting. so eunseok also ended up being the one to make the compromise.

“we don’t have to tell anyone we are seeing eachother.” eunseok had his hands in yours, gripping them tight.

“i’m not ashamed of us. i want you to know that.” you said, rubbing his hand.

“i know. i get it.” eunseok hated the secrecy. he understood the privacy, but secrecy was too much.

“lets just keep this between us, for now.” you patted his head, making eunseok smile.

that was three months ago.

eunseok now sat next to you on the couch, breath hot on your neck. your book was long forgotten, the notes you were taking on it probably being wrinkled underneath your bodies. his laptop with his twelve paged paper (that was due tonight) sat open on the coffee table in front of him. all that mattered was trying to pull little whimpers from you, and to get as close to you as possible.

eunseok sat on the couch and pulled you to straddle his lap. you let out a little sound, probably surprised by how fast he grabbed you.

eunseok wasted no time bringing you closer with one hand on your ass and his other pressing on the small of your back. you kissed him like you were in a rush or distracted.

“we have all day baby.” eunseok pulling away from you. you brushed hair away from his face, looking him in the eyes. eunseok smiled when you brought him in for a slow kiss.

it was yearning kiss. not only did sneaking around take a toll on you, but the course load was tiring as well. you often found yourself sleeping on eunseok’s couch sitting up, him moving you to the bed. you were losing time, always thinking about how badly you wanted to be with him.

eunseok must have felt the same, because he never let you out of his hands when he got a hold of you. at parties he would always stick close to you, keeping an eye on you at all times. he respected that you wanted to be with your girls, and that no one knew you were dating, so he kept to his group. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t watching you the whole night.

you were both interrupted by a phone call. instantly your eyes shot wide open and eunseok almost laughed at the cartoonish expression you had. you reached for your phone on the coffee table behind you and eunseok kept his hands on you to give you balance.

you grabbed your phone and looked at eunseok in panic. you showed him the caller ID before answering it.

“hey giselle! what’s up?”

eunseok looked at you as you gave giselle all of your attention. you mindlessly grabbed on one of eunseok’s hands, tracing patterns on his hand.

“i completely forgot about the study group with everyone. i’m at the library right now, so i’m pretty close.”

giselle says something eunseok can’t hear, but he sees your eyes get wide.

“i don’t know where eunseok is, you’d have to call and ask him.” you try so hard to not sound suspicious, but a nervous twinge to your voice makes it go up an octave.

almost immediately, eunseok feels his phone ringing in his back pocket. he moves forward, still holding you in place to grab his phone. eunseok giggles before showing you the caller ID.

eunseok declines the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. eunseok goes back to kissing any part of your body he can get to, light and feathery.

“he declined? maybe he’s busy i’m not sure. but i’m coming. i’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.”

eunseok’s lips find his favorite part of your neck. he starts sucking lightly, careful not to leave a mark.

“giselle, no i’m alone right now.”

“no i’m not with jake!”

eunseok considered himself to be very level headed. he approached everything with an attitude that helped him shed negative emotions. but he couldn’t stop that jealousy from bubbling in his chest at the mentioning of jake, someone who had been doting on you since the start of the semester. so eunseok started to suck a little harder than usual. a hand also creeped its way up your shirt, squeezing your breast.

“i’m serious! okay bye i’ll see you soon.”

you hang up the phone and lean into eunseok’s lips. his hand grips you a little tighter.

“eunseok i have to go.” you say without moving. eunseok murmurs “mhm” into your skin.

you snap out of your reverie when eunseok lightly bites your neck. you break apart from him quickly and look down at eunseok. his hair is pushed back, his lips slightly parted in a pout.

“did you leave a mark?” you say bewildered. eunseok wordlessly nods his head.

“eunseok! all of my makeup is at my apartment across campus.” you punch him in the shoulder lightly, but he dramatically rubs his arm for effect.

“wanna leave one on me too?” eunseok bent his neck. you were tempted, but you were the one who wanted to have study group, you had to go.

you gathered all your stuff, putting your things in a backpack. you quickly walk over to his door. eunseok follows behind you, pulling at your clothes a little. before you open the door you turn around to face him.

“show up ten minutes before me. say you were sleeping.”

you take a detour before going to the study group. you make it to the bathroom to inspect your hickey. it’s unsalvageable. you take out a sweatshirt, from you bag. too warm for the weather. you pull it up all the way, covering up a majority of your hickey. you realize looking in the mirror you have eunseoks’ sweater on.

eunseok beats you to the study room. he walks in to see his friend group have a heated discussion. they are not talking about work, instead they have bahiyyih and sullyoon on each side of the whiteboard. on the board there’s “WHO IS SHE FUCKING?” im big bold letters. the entire room is laughing writing random names of every man you have interacted with this semester. eunseok sees jake, sunghoon, mark, jaehyun. with each name eunseok feels himself get more and more jealous. he remembers seeing some of these men approach you at parties, trying to get you to go home with them. eunseok had no reason to be jealous, each time you went home with him. sometimes you would even slip in declarations of your devotion to him while you were together.

but when eunseok sat down at the table, there was a silence that settled in the room.

eunseok pointed at the name that pissed him off the most. sunghoon was the one you spent the most time with, especially because you two were in the same group for a project.

“he’s not really her type.” eunseok says simply.

“oh here he goes.” sungchan laughs.

“what’s her type then eunseok?” shotaro looks to giselle. giselle looks at shotaro.

when you enter the private study group room, instantly everyone is digging into you. you try not to look at eunseok, even though he’s staring at you intensely.

“what the hell is that on your neck?” sungchan points at the blooming bruise peeking underneath your collar.

“i thought you were in the library, you little minx.” giselle elbows shotaro next to her. you see those two are sitting pretty close together.

“she was not reading books.” anton emphases the not causing the table to laugh.

“y’all need to mind your business.” you can’t stop smiling though. you know the teasing is lighthearted and comes from a good place. knowing that they don’t know it’s eunseok who left those marks made you want to laugh as well.

“we are trying to figure out who you’re fucking and you’re laughing?” wonbin looks over to you from the other side of the table.

“i thought we came here to study?” you say pulling out your books.

eventually, you see sullyoon write an “e” everyone in the room goes dead silent. shotaro rips through the silence with a loud laugh. now your face is really hot, looking at eunseok’s name slowly be spelled out by sullyoon.

you stare at eunseok’s name being written on the whiteboard.

“if you guys bring that type of energy into exams you will ace them.” you smile looking to eunseok.

the study room erupts into cheers and laughs. you hear several “i knew it’s” and “i told you’s” as you take out your books and papers.

“now that’s out of the way can we study now?”

#requestz #eunseokz #01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

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infinitevisions · 2 months

Text

A Lesson (To Both of Us)

Pairing: Crosshair x Gender-Neutral Reader Summary: Crosshair decides to play games on you while teaching you how to snipe, but his plan quickly backfires. Word Count: 1,024 Tags: Crosshair teasing you, unresolved sexual tension, this isn't smut but it's somewhat spicey, wrote this with clone wars Crosshair in mind but imagine whatever era you want!! there is eventual fluff!! Notes: this is my FIRST X READER EVER, so if it's not good please bear with me!! crosshair enjoyers you deserve the world so i hope yall enjoy this

“I just don’t think this is in the cards for me.” You groaned. You stood in the training range with Crosshair's firearm, surprised he even allowed you to use it, even with his surveillance. While you had fired some rounds on the target, the gun grew too heavy and caused discomfort in your shoulders. You had no idea how he did this for a living. Crosshair groaned and used his leg as momentum to rise off the wall he was leaning against.

“So dramatic.” Crosshair remarked as he approached you. Before speaking, his augmented eyes scanned you up and down. It felt like a perfect circumstance for him to test the waters. The stage was set and the fruit was ripe for the taking.

“You’re in the wrong position.” He stated. Your neck was too far forward, straining your muscles, your legs were too close together, and your arms should exchange positions. You felt your breath hitch at the statement, but you attempted to ignore your filthy mind. Crosshair caught your chest stutter and cracked a grin.

“You’re too tense,” he added. “You need to loosen up.”

“Okay… mind showing me, wise one?” You joked, attempting to conceal the fact that your heart was pounding just from hearing his voice. But Crosshair wasn't dumb. He knew just how his voice affected you. He decided to add fuel to the fire. He threw his toothpick aside before getting to work.

“You need to spread your legs.” He drew back, keeping his gaze fixed on your face to watch how you reacted, whether you enjoyed this. If he detected any uncomfortable body language, he would stop instantly.

Luckily for him, he noticed your throat bob as you swallowed spit. Your legs separated, and you assumed a more solid stance. He observed you intently as you were doing so.

“How’s this? This alright?” You searched for more confirmation. He spotted a window of opportunity. He gave you a quick once-over before starting.

“Mind if I… show you?” He inquired before figuratively taking his shot. You finally shifted your attention to him, relaxing your grasp on the rifle for a moment. You took in his small grin and exhaled. You were curious about where he was headed with this.

“Of course.”

Crosshair's eyes shimmered with hunger.

He approached you from behind, pressing his armored chest against your unarmored but clothed back. He took his hands and placed them upon yours, guiding your hands to the appropriate positions. He focused his gaze just past your left ear. His breath fanned over your ear, and you continued to breathe deeply but sought to mask it.

“Much better now, isn’t it?” Crosshair asked smoothly, feeling your hands tremble beneath his.

“Y–Yeah. Lots. Feels amazing.” You tried lightly teasing back. He chuckled before speaking.

“Now, take a look around. Are you vulnerable?” He inquired as he felt your back compress against his chest and swell with every breath you took.

You certainly felt vulnerable. It was unexpected for Crosshair to be so close to you, yet it turned out to be one of the most outstanding experiences of your existence. The sunset made the most beautiful swirl of hues in the sky, and normally, you would take it in and appreciate it, but there's nothing quite like the sensation of having Crosshair against you.

However, it's important to note that his question was simply, are you a current target?

“N–No, uh… I don’t see anyone aiming at me.” You stated.

“Mm-hmm.” He rumbled into your ear, and your legs nearly buckled at the sound. For what amount of time would he continue to pursue this? How much more of you crumbling did he need to see before he was satisfied? Before you further spiraled into your thoughts, you heard Crosshair inhale to say his next words of wisdom.

“Try taking another shot for me.”

For him. For him. The words rang in your brain as you gently placed your finger over the trigger. He was whispering in your ear– right in the open for everyone to see. It drove you crazy. It was your primary motive for shooting the objective. You inhaled before pulling the trigger and giving it hell.

You blasted a straight shot to the target's forehead.

Despite your distraction from Crosshair, you felt quite proud of yourself and puffed out a little chuckle. However, you remained still since Crosshair remained motionless as well.

“Very good.” Crosshair purred in your ear, his tone dulcet as honey.

You couldn’t hold back the whimper that manifested after he said that. It was quiet, but Crosshair still picked up on it. Like he always did. Like he always would. You gathered yourself together, stepped away from him, and looked upward at his face. He also took a step back, allowing you some room.

You couldn't help but reflect carefully on everything as you took in the atmosphere. You trained with the guidance of Crosshair. It was unknown to you if it was for his own pleasure, but as soon as you realized the magnitude of the situation, a smile spread across your face.

“It was all thanks to you,” You said softly. Even though he riled you up, you were honored that he trained you how to snipe. Crosshair’s sharp demeanor slowly dropped, shocked at your genuine gratitude. When he saw your grin, he didn't know why blood shot to his brain and caused dizziness. It frustrated him as he began to feel overwhelmed. The fact that your enchanting grin was the only thing on his mind just made him angrier.

You held the weapon out for him to take back. He looked down at your hands on his rifle and saw how soft they were in comparison to his. After taking the gun, he broke eye contact and turned around so his back was to you. He chose to dismiss any other possibilities as the source of his condition and put the blame entirely on being ill. Despite his lingering fear that it wasn't what it was.

“Don’t mention it.” Crosshair said sheepishly, struggling to ignore the warm sensation inside his chest.

#crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #crosshair #ct 9904 #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch imagine

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thechekhov · 1 year

Note

thoughts on the huge OGL debacle around DnD at the moment?

mmmmmMMMMMM BOI

I was going to be holding off on commenting until something was confirmed by WotC because I hoped to get more info but. I think we basically got what we need.

For those who don’t know - the CONTEXT:

Earlier last month there was a leak that made the DnD community peek up out of their little holes like a bunch of meerkats hearing a stampede. Y’see, currently, Wizards of the Coast (a company owned by Hasbro, a corporate giant in board-games) is working on a new DnD version that is meant to replace 5e (5th edition of DnD, the most current one). They’re calling it One DnD, and it’s in play-test right now. But there’s a problem. Along with new stuff, they were apparently planning to revise the OGL - the Open Gaming License which had been a staple of the DnD Era since 2000.

The OGL 1.0 was essentially an open world ticket for third-party creators to use DnD game mechanics to build worlds, create monsters, and expand upon the creative base that was DnD. In 2008 they attempted to publish 4th edition DnD under a different, less open gaming license, which ended up severely hurting their overall standing with the community. When they published 5e, they returned to the OGL and DnD has gained traction with the public thanks to various gaming groups (such as Critical Role) rising to fame. Because of the OGL, many people have made adventures for 5e DnD, making monster manuals compatible with the game, and basically expanding on a huge, growing world. There have been kickstarters for new adventures, new compendiums, etc, which were an incredible creative sandbox for just about anyone who wanted to try their hand at creating.

And now it seems like they fucked it up.

A leak made it clear that WotC is working on OGL 1.1 - which is basically a giant middle finger to everything the original was. They are now demanding royalties from anyone creating new content if they make over 50kᶜᵒʳʳᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ 750k a year from their creations - which in and of itself isn’t super unreasonable.... except for the fact that they can lower this number at any point.

ALSO with the new OGL (1.1) WotC would OWN the rights to anything made using any of their content (including homebrew made by creators - yes, they would own settings/character just because those adventures use their system) indefinitely, demand they receive financial reports from anyone making 50k or more.

What’s more, they reserve the right to change their own license at any point, with only 30 days notice. (Which basically means that if at any point they decide to demand recompense from people making more than, say, 20k from their little homebrewed setting in 5e, they can do that with nary a month’s warning.)

“...according to attorneys consulted for this article, the new language may indicate that Wizards of the Coast is rendering any future use of the original OGL void, and asserting that if anyone wants to continue to use Open Game Content of any kind, they will need to abide by the terms of the updated OGL, which is a far more restrictive agreement than the original OGL..." (source)

So as you can imagine, for the past few weeks, the entire DnD community and the ttrpg community at large have been gearing up for either a fight, a mass exodus, or both. It would not be the first time.

And then, just recently, we had another comment, this time from inside. An email was sent out, which has been evidently confirmed by one of the recipients as true, describing what is happening inside of WotC.

[I'm an employee at WotC currently working on and with business leaders on the health of the product line. If you want I can provide proof of this.I'm sending this message because I fear for the health of a community I love, and I know what the leaders at WOTC are looking at:

They are briefly delaying rollout of OGL changes due to the backlash.

Their decision making is based entirely on the provable impact to their bottom line

Specifically they are looking at DDB subscriptions and cancellations as it is the quickest financial data they currently have.

They are still hoping the community forgets, moves on, and they can still push this through

I have decided to reach out because at my time in WotC I have never once heard management refer to customers in a positive manner, their communication gives me the impression they see customers as obstacles between them and their money, the DDB team was first told to prepare to support the new OGL changes and online portal when they got back from the holidays, and leadership doesn’t take any responsibility for the pain and stress they cause others. Leadership's first communication to the rank and file on the OGL was 30 minutes on 1/11/23, This was the first time they even tried to communicate their intentions about the OGL to employees, and even in this meeting they blamed the community for over-reacting.I will repeat, the main thing this leadership is looking at is DDB subscription cancellations.Hope your day goes well,PS will be copying and pasting this message to other community leaders]

(source)

As for my comment in all of this?

I won’t pretend to be a local expert in legal terminology. Others can probably parse the full leak far better, and I don’t think there is anything to be gained by running around in a panic and screaming...

However.

The fact of the matter is, Hasbro/WotC are shooting themselves in the foot. I don’t believe they have the right to destroy the original license. Make a new one for OneDnD? Sure, knock yourself out. Try it, see how popular it’ll be. But destroying the community-driven 5e will do only that - destroy it. They will not be gaining any money from the fans which are already plenty used to supporting small-level creators first and large companies second. It’s a supremely counter-culture move which will eat them from the inside out.

The only ones that I feel for are Critical Role - who originally played in Pathfinder and then switched to 5e and paired up with DnD Beyond.............and are now being screwed over because they’re likely locked in a contract with WotC and are contractually obligated to not speak out negatively against the changes.

In my heart of hearts, I kinda hope that their tablets all mysteriously ‘break’ for the next few games and they go back to pen and paper instead of barking out DnD Beyond ads as they’re expected to do. But I don’t know if that’s something they can afford to risk.

(.....though hell, I hope they try to afford it. They have a community that will stand behind them, and that community has MONEY. We won’t know until we know, though, and I know that there are legal repercussions that may go beyond a simple income slap on the wrist.)

Personally, here’s my two cents:

I think people should cast a vote with their money.

Cancel your DnD Beyond subscription.

Don’t give any more money to Hasbro or Wizards. Keep playing whatever 5e games you want, but do it using third-party digital character sheets, OR just go old school and do pen and paper. Let me know if you need sources for it.

Don’t buy the Players Handbook, leave DnD Beyond behind, don’t engage with One DnD. There are resources out there that let you play the game that also don’t require you giving money to corporations that are only here to fuck around and find out. You want an adventure module but don’t want to bow down to the dragon sitting on its hoard? Hit me up. I’ll give you some alternatives.

Hell, I myself will be looking into Pathfinder 2e because I’ve heard good things, and if I need to switch any future games to a different system because Fountry VTT or Roll20 will stop offering the 5e presents, it’ll be a very good alternative. Paizo just came out with a statement that they will write their own version of the OGL which will keep the spirit of the open game alive, and Kobold Press is gearing up with their own stuff.

I won’t be throwing out my own games, and I don’t feel there’s a need to stop playing 5e. I have a Curse of Strahd game to finish, and that game belongs to me and my group now. We don’t need the module - it needs us.

... all that is simply to say - Wizards may soon be realizing that when you live on the Coast... pirates are never far.

(edited thanks to corrections from @magpiesarefluffy )

#dnd #dnd 5e #wotc #ttrpg #d&d #wizards of the coast #ogl #ogl 1.1 #ogl 1.0 #chekhov answers

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