#got too lazy to finish the rest

[sernhuh]

Fun dads + Marvin

Cropped themm theyr cute

[daily-odile]

AUGH I’d love to see more time looping odile if possible,,,,, how do you think she’d like; “devolve” over each of the acts as compared to Siffrin over time :O

ok im gonna be honest i did like portrait edits months ago and just never finished them. so here you go

act 3:

act 5:

[buckysouvenir]

the new uniform bucky’s new uniform got you feeling all types of way. warning: 18+ content! ps.: (thunderbolts* spoilers… kind of. idk marvel spoiled everything already)

The low hum of the coffee machine and the scent of strong roast filled the apartment, but neither of those things held your attention.

Bucky Barnes—your boyfriend, your weakness, your absolute problem—was standing in the hallway, zipping up the sleek new suit that hugged every inch of him like a secret weapon.

You’d seen him in a lot of things: bloodied fatigues, loose cotton shirts, towels (God bless towels). But this?

This New Avengers suit?

It was practically rude.

“You’re doing it again,” Bucky called over his shoulder without looking. “That thing where you stare like I’m the last slice of cake.”

You didn’t even try to deny it this time.

“Cake doesn’t make my thighs clench,” you muttered, not quite quietly enough.

That got his attention.

Bucky turned, his vibranium arm glinting faintly in the morning light, and smirked. “Clench, huh?”

You sipped your coffee, legs curled under you on the couch. You were in one of his shirts—big, soft, still smelling like him—and not much else.

“You look good,” you said, voice calm even though your heart was picking up pace. “Like… absurdly good. That suit should come with a warning label.”

He chuckled, walking toward you with lazy confidence. “You think the New Avengers want a guy who’s late on his first day?”

You leaned back slightly, resting your coffee on the table as he stopped in front of you.

“I think,” you said, tugging on the front of his suit, “they’d understand if you had to deal with… an emergency at home.”

“Oh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, but his voice had dropped a note lower. “What kind of emergency are we talking about, doll?”

You grinned, fingers sliding down his chest, tracing the grooves of his suit. “The kind that involves a very, very turned-on girlfriend… who woke up extra needy today and really wants to make out with her super-soldier boyfriend before he goes off to play hero.”

His breath hitched, subtle but noticeable. “Make out, huh?”

You were already pulling him down by the collar before he could tease you further.

The kiss started deep—hot, urgent, greedy. The kind that made your toes curl and your mind go blank. He tasted like peppermint and coffee and the kind of safety that still managed to get your heart racing.

His gloved hands found your waist, gripping tight even through the thick fabric of his suit, and you arched into him with a soft moan.

“I just finished getting dressed,” he murmured against your lips.

“You can get dressed again,” you whispered, already fumbling with the belt at his waist.

“Babe…” he warned, half-hearted at best.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” you smirked, slipping a hand between his armor and the waistband of his pants. “Use them wisely.”

His lips crashed back into yours.

In a blur, he had you laid out on the couch, his armored body hovering over yours like he was afraid to crush you—but desperate to be close. You could feel the heat of him through his suit, the tension in every controlled movement. It was sexy. Too sexy.

He kissed down your jaw, across your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin just beneath your ear as your fingers tangled in his hair.

“You really like the suit that much?” he murmured against your skin, voice gravelly with want.

“I like you in anything,” you gasped. “But this? This is some next-level roleplay fantasy come to life.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Remind me to wear it next time we’re actually alone for more than five minutes.”

You arched your back, pressing your body against his. “You’ve got five left.”

He groaned, rocking against you, clearly debating whether to keep his pants on or risk it.

You didn’t give him a chance to decide.

Your hand slid down, confidently, tugging at the waistband of his suit pants with enough urgency that it left no room for doubt.

“Y/N…” he rasped, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch beside your head, his body taut with restraint. “You really want to do this right now?”

You looked up at him, pupils blown wide, heat blooming low in your stomach.

“I need you,” you said simply. “Like this. In the suit. Right now.”

That was all it took.

With a muffled curse, he pulled back just enough to shove his pants down, his cock already hard and leaking at the tip. You reached for him, wrapping your fingers around him in a slow, practiced stroke that made him curse again, louder this time.

“Shit—doll, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’ll make it quick,” you teased, pulling him back down for a kiss, deep and hot, while you hooked your legs around his waist and guided him right where you wanted.

“Wait—” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye, breath ragged. “Are you—?”

You nodded, voice thick with need. “I’m good. I want you. Please, Bucky.”

He groaned again, and then he was pressing forward, sliding into you in one smooth, perfect thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Oh my God—” you gasped, arching under him.

He filled you so completely it was dizzying, and for a moment, neither of you moved—just breathing, tangled, shaking with restraint.

Then he started to move.

Slow at first, deep and steady, each thrust sending sparks shooting through your veins. The cool metal of his vibranium hand gripped your thigh tightly while his flesh hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so he could mouth at your throat.

You raked your nails down the back of his suit, helpless to stay quiet as your hips rocked up to meet his.

“Faster,” you whispered, breath hot against his ear. “Don’t hold back, Buck. I can take it.”

Something in him snapped at that.

He growled low in his throat and obeyed—his pace increasing, his thrusts rougher now, deeper, desperate. The couch creaked under the rhythm of your bodies, and the sound of skin against skin, broken only by breathy gasps and whispered curses, filled the room.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple. “So warm. So perfect.”

You tightened around him at the praise, a high whimper escaping your lips as your body started to tremble.

“Bucky— I’m close—”

“I got you, baby,” he whispered, angling his hips just right, hitting that spot that made you cry out.

Your orgasm crashed over you with a blinding intensity, your back arching, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure tore through you in waves. You clenched around him so tightly he nearly lost control right then.

“Fuck—gonna come—” he choked out, slamming into you once, twice more before he buried himself deep and spilled inside you with a groan that sounded like your name.

He collapsed against you, panting, both of you sweaty and shaking and completely wrecked.

For a long moment, you just lay there—tangled, trembling, hearts racing.

Eventually, he shifted enough to look down at you, brushing your damp hair back with the softest touch.

“Well,” he murmured with a grin, “guess I’m really gonna be late now.”

You laughed breathlessly, cupping his face. “Totally worth it.”

He kissed you again, slow this time, tender.

Then he glanced at the clock and winced. “They are never gonna let me live this down.”

“Tell them your girlfriend has needs,” you said with a smirk.

He stood reluctantly, tugging his pants back up, adjusting his suit—and shooting you a look that was part exasperated, part adoring, and entirely his.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered.

You winked. “Only for you, Sergeant.”

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[rafesangelita]

♡ rafe is tired, but never too tired to have pretty little sheep!reader bouncing on his cock

warnings: dealer!rafe, light fluff, sleepy sex, riding & reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, spanking, hair pulling, use of the name ‘daddy’, tit sucking

a/n: sheep!reader has been getting heavily requested.. so ask and you shall receive! i’ll be giving longer fics a small break until my pogue!sweetheart!reader series is done because my brain is actually going to explode lol

nothing felt better than coming home to you after a long day of bullshit and seeing you in nothing but those cute thigh high socks of yours. especially when you were so needy and willing to do all of the work. you’d give rafe what felt like a thousand kisses all over his face, his arms wrapped around your waist as you gushed about how much you missed him and thought about him all day. “yeah? i missed you more.” you’d smile at his words, quickly getting him out of his clothes.

you massaged the tension out of his shoulders and left trails of kisses along his skin, your boyfriend growing more relaxed as your skilled hands worked to get him unwinded. by the time you were finished, he was barely able to keep his eyes open, his heavy-lidded gaze meeting yours. “what do you want, baby? you’ve been looking at me like you got something on your mind..” your cheeks heated in response, his fingers dancing along your flesh.

“i know you’re tired.. but can i get on top?” a lazy smile made its way to rafe’s lips before he pulled you onto his lap.

“fuck, yeah.”

those two words were all the confirmation you needed, your shaky hands planted on rafe’s thighs as you moved on top of him, his cock filling you to the hilt. watching you move so fluidly on top of him was enough to make his eyes roll to the back of his head, the sight of your soaked cunt gripping him with every drag of your hips drew more moans from him than the last. “ah, f-fuck! you’re just taking that shit..” rafe was mesmerized, his large palm resting in the curve of thigh.

you cried out when his hand came down on the globe of your ass, a stinging sensation spreading across your sensitive skin. “riding me dumb, huh?” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before pulling you back against his chest. you were arched almost painfully in this position, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. “poor baby, here by herself all day..” you whimpered, his free hand snaking down your tummy until he had your clit pinched between his fingers.

you shrieked, white, hot pleasure blinding your vision. rafe knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what would have you yelping in pain, and what would make you all soft and warm like putty in his hands. “riding daddy makes you so fucking wet,” your hips stuttered when rafe starting rubbing hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the lewdness of his words, “just letting me use you like the cock slut you are, right?”

“y-yes!” you whimpered, sighing in relief when he let your hair go. “make yourself cum, ‘pretty girl, let me feel you.” rafe watched as you leaned forward, your back arching deliciously as you bounced on his length. your ass met rafe’s thighs in rhythmic claps, the sound making both of you moan. “turn around, precious, ‘needa see that pretty face.” you slid off of him for a moment, finally swinging a leg over his lap before sinking back down on his cock.

pushing his face into your chest, you whined when you felt him take one of your tits in his mouth, his tongue circling around the sensitive bud. he licked and sucked as you worked to make both of you cum. you relished in these moments when you two were panting into each other’s mouths, skin hot and burning with fiery need and desire, never wanting it to end. rafe’s abs constricted as he inched closer and closer to his climax, your thighs aching for a break.

“don’t fucking stop..” rafe dug his fingers in the flesh of your hips, “oh, my god, don’t stop!” he repeated, your eyes brimming with tears as your clit slapped against his pubic bone. as soon as you doubled over, your head falling against his shoulder, rafe knew the band in your tummy finally snapped, his own orgasm hitting him at the same time. embracing you tightly, rafe thrusted up from below you so you could just cum without keeping up your pace.

you shook against him, tears rolling down your cheek and onto his collarbone as you reveled in each wave of pure bliss. rafe’s mouth stayed open, his eyes screwing shut as you milked him for all that he had. eventually, you two came to a stop, your breaths being the only sound in the room. if rafe felt tired before, he was even more drained now.. literally. nothing beat his pretty thing of a girlfriend taking his load at the end of the night.

[itoshiexx]

when you're mad and use their full name

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you're mad and use their full name

pairings: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro and itoshi sae x gn!reader (separate) | warnings: little arguments, angst if u squint, reader is kinda hot headed? lol, mostly fluff and the boys wanting to be in your good graces.

notes: did i kick depression in the ass to finish this? not really. but it worked, and here i am! this is my nagi seishiro debut omgggg hopefully i did him justice and he's not too ooc. also new design for the scenarios to match my theme. enjoy, lovelies! let me know if you'd like especific scenarios and send me an ask :)

masterlist

ISAGI YOICHI

yoichi hoped he would die. 

really. 

it’s the least he deserved for making you angry — even more so because he didn’t know what made you angry in the first place. he spent the last fifteen minutes excavating his mind to try and remember what could have ticked you off so much that you don’t even wanna look at him.

he hates it. isagi needs your eyes on him, needs to hear your voice and touch your skin. and with the way you’re so silent and distant, he might be just like a man in the desert without water.

“baby,” he looked at you on the other end of the couch, intently watching the tv show in front of you.  just a glimpse would make him breathe again. just a nod would ease his nerves. hell, he would even take a glare, as long as you were looking at him.

but he got nothing. zero. nada.

“baby, please,” he tried again. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you mad.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, but still didn’t spare him a glance. he sighed.

“i’ll never do it agai—”

“do you even know why you’re apologizing, isagi yoichi?!” you asked, exasperated. your boyfriend froze on the spot when hearing his full name, because of course he didn’t. 

as far as he knew, you were having a great day together. he bought you breakfast from your favorite bakery, you made a delicious lunch and then you two went out shopping. he even gifted you with a beautiful necklace after an enthusiastic shop employee offered to show him some pieces—

oh.

“you got jealous of the saleswoman?”

“blah blah you got jealous of the saleswoman? heck yeah I did!” you impersonated him with a high pitched, sarcastic voice that showed just how mad you were. “she was all over you, yoichi, and you didn’t do anything!” 

he swallowed thickly, daring to approach you on the couch. he hugged your frame, despite the crossed arms in front of your chest making it a little hard.

“i’m sorry, darling. i didn’t even notice she was being inappropriate because you’re the only one i pay attention to. and i always figured people would never dare be so bold if you’re by my side and we’re clearly together.”

his sweet words coated you, making you glance away, knowing that looking at his puppy eyes would end you for good. 

“you should have done something anyway.”

“i know. i totally should, and i’m sorry i didn’t. i never meant to make you feel bad or let people disrespect you.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, breath shuddering right on your ear.

the sincerity in his voice was enough to chip away your anger, and you visibly relaxed in his embrace. yoichi held a breath of relief, knowing he still had to be careful.

“i’m sorry, baby. it won’t happen again. forgive me, please?” he placed a sweet kiss on your cheek, and god, how could you keep being mad like that?

damn isagi yoichi and his genuine blue eyes.

you uncrossed your arms, embracing his instead, and finally looked at him with love again.

“fine. but just because you’re so charming, ‘ichi.”

he chuckled. “you’re the charming one. i’m totally under your spell, darling.”

and when your lips met, yoichi hoped to keep living just to have more of you.

NAGI SEISHIRO

people would often ask him if his detached, nonchalant persona ever got in his way through his life. seishiro would always say no, because everything and everyone he did care about understood his lazy way and inability to do… pretty much everything.

that didn’t mean he never made the effort, though. as much as nagi liked to live like a sloth and just go on with his life playing video games, there were still things in his life that were worth it. like football. his friends. and you, of course. 

ever since you met, seishiro discovered that being with you wasn’t a bother. and after he fell in love and you became a couple, he found himself eager to indulge you, even if it meant going out of his way. his friends congratulated him and expressed genuine happiness to see how much he improved, and that, along with your beautiful smile, filled his heart with joy. 

however, no matter how much he tried, he was still…

“nagi seishiro.” 

a shiver ran down his spine with the sound of your voice, and not the good kind. he had never heard you sound so stern, so angry, so… disappointed, even. enough to leave a sour taste in his mouth. so much so he immediately lifted his eyes from his console, only to find your harsh gaze.

“ehh? wha’ did i do, angel? don’t say my name like that,” he pouted, crawling towards your body splayed on the bed. 

even when you tried to fight his embrace, nagi took advantage of his large frame to engulf you and lay his head on your chest, so you wouldn’t walk away in case you got any angrier.

“babeeeee,” he whined, hugging you tighter.

“let go of me,” you said, and he just shook his head. “you deserve it. you weren’t even listening to what i was saying, were you?”

what a hassle. he really wasn’t listening, but… well, he got way too focused on beating the last boss. could you really blame him? 

he heard you scoff. “oh, my bad, i should have known it was the last boss. it’s more important than me anyway, right, nagi?”

fuck. fuck. fuck. did he say that out loud? he sounded like a dick. you had every right to be mad and call him by his full or last name. 

nagi lifted his head from your chest to look at you, feeling his throat tighten with the sight of your teary eyes. guilt gnawed at his chest when seeing how upset and frustrated you were. 

“eh, ’m sorry, pretty thing. i got too caught up ‘n didn’t notice you were talking t’me.”

“am i that invisible to you?” a tear almost rolled down your cheek. seishiro shook his head, a little more exasperated than usual. 

“huh? ’f course not, angel. y’re never invisible. all i see is you. y’re the most important to me,” he held eye contact, and even though you wanted to tear your gaze away, seishiro’s eyes were more magnetizing than ever, even if your view was a little blurry.

you knew your boyfriend wasn’t the type to lie, since he always claimed it was a hassle. you knew you were important to him, but his lack of consideration still hurt. 

“i’ll apologize as many times as you wish. ‘m sorry for not listening and making you feel bad. i never wan’ you to feel bad, pretty thing.” 

nagi used his strength to roll around and switch your positions, in a way you were on top of him instead. he started caressing your hair in a soothing motion, making your eyelashes flutter. “y’can talk as much as you want. i promise i’ll listen t’you.”

your eyes welled with tears for a different reason, and you hugged the striker as hard as you could. even if he faltered, seishiro never failed to make up to you and make you feel loved.

“promise, sei?”

“promise.”

ITOSHI SAE

although sae wasn’t exactly smart in the emotions field, he always knew when you weren’t happy with something. you scowled, huffed and rolled your eyes, keeping an eerie silence that was only broken when absolutely necessary. 

at that moment, he was sure you weren’t happy with him.

you both kept to yourselves while still at the event, masquerading any problems for the cameras. sae had a hand at the small of your back and he could feel how stiff you were. the midfielder wouldn't admit that seeing you so uncomfortable around him made his heart pang.

at the limo, the path to your shared penthouse was quiet, and you brushed him off when he tried to hold your hand. sae could only stare at his window with furrowed brows, itching to dissipate this awkward atmosphere. he never liked when you were mad, especially at him.

he expected some sort of explosion when you got to your apartment, but you kept your glaze off him, trying to walk to the bedroom for your night routine without even sparing him a word. 

nuh-uh. that wouldn’t do. 

he held your wrist before you could go, and lightly pulled you so that you were facing him. your eyes widened with the sudden movement, but narrowed as soon as landed on his face. 

“why are you mad?”

you scoffed. the audacity of this man. 

“you know exactly why i’m mad, itoshi sae.”

shit, the government name? you were really fucking angry.

“i wouldn’t be asking if i knew,” he answered, immediately regretting it when you glared at him, as if saying that wasn’t the right answer. “i-i mean… i didn’t realize what was wrong, amor.”

you walked closer to your boyfriend, making him release your wrist. despite his typical stoic face, sae was clinging to your every word.

“itoshi sae, you can not talk to your little brother like that!” you nearly growled on his face, surprising him. “you were very rude and condescending, and that’s no way to speak to rin!”

he frowned. you were mad because of rin? the little green monster inside of him threatened to grow, but he forced him to stay put. sae didn’t want to anger you further, so he simply let his hands slither to your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“i don’t think i was rud—” you lifted one eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. “fine. i might have been kinda harsh.”

“and?” you crossed your arms.

he sighed. “i will apologize.”

“i’m serious about this, itoshi sae. i will ask rin—”

“i’ll tell him i’m sorry, okay? no need to keep talking about rin.” he interrupted, palms traveling to your ass while he nosed your neck. he planted a small kiss under your ear, huffing a minty breath that made you shudder. sae smirked. “and no need to keep calling me by full name, either. what happened to ‘cariño’?”

you held onto his biceps for some grounding, but still didn’t budge. 

“you weren’t very sweet today, so it’s not fitting.” 

he pouted while hiding in your neck, taking full advantage that you couldn’t see him, but was quick to withdraw to face you once again, touching your noses. one of his hands cradled your jaw, and you sighed with the pathetic effect your boyfriend had on you. 

“perdóname, amor?” he whispered against your lips, eyes sincere like you knew he could be. your poor little heart could never resist him when he was like this, rarely vulnerable and eager for you.

you gave a long exhale, arms moving to tangle around his neck. and folded.

“as long as you make it right, mi cariño.”

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

if you like my writing and would like to support me, you can 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ! any amount is welcomed and very appreciated! ♥

[goyardgoyangi]

eating wingstop in street racer! sukuna’s car

You’re halfway through your second tender when it hits you — he hasn’t said a word about the crumbs.

The scent of hot honey and voodoo fries fills his GTR, thick and sweet, the kind of smell that would make any car guy lose his mind. But Sukuna just leans back in the driver’s seat like he’s been waiting for this all day.

Maybe he has.

Which is weird, because just last week, you watched him nearly commit a felony when some guy got too close to the rear spoiler. The poor dude barely breathed near it and Sukuna went off — meanwhile, you stood on the sidewalk sipping iced matcha, thoroughly entertained as Sukuna wiped down an invisible fingerprint like it was an insult.

But now he’s focused on the wing in his hand — mostly. His eyes keep flicking to you every few seconds, like he can’t decide what’s messier: the sauce on his fingers or the look on your face while you chew.

“Don’t get sauce on the leather,” he murmurs, almost out of obligation.

There’s no bite to it, though.

You glance at him through your lashes, catching the way his body’s angled toward you. Elbow on the center console. Guarded, maybe — but not from you.

“You let me eat in here,” you tease, waving a greasy fry at him. “This a trap?”

“No.” His voice is quieter now, eyes on the dashboard. “Just… you’re clean.”

You arch a brow. “Wow. Thanks. Romantic.”

He rolls his eyes — a little too hard. “You know what I mean.”

You kind of do.

He’s not cold. Not really. Just hard to read. Always elbows deep in engines, more tuned into the purr of an exhaust than the sound of his own name.

You reach into the paper bag, the grease turning translucent in spots, and offer him your last fry.

He hesitates.

Then he takes it with two fingers, careful not to touch yours, and tosses it into his mouth. He nods, approving.

“I don’t let just anyone in this car, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Clearly. I’ve heard the horror stories.”

But here you are — box in your lap, fingers messy, dipping your tenders into the extra ranch he always orders without you having to ask. The car smells like fried food and leather, two things that should never mix, but somehow feel natural when it’s the two of you.

You glance over at him, chewing thoughtfully. “Well then, who would you let eat in here?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just finishes off his wing, sucks the bone clean like it’s muscle memory, then tosses it into the bag with a lazy flick of his wrist. He wipes his fingers on a napkin already soaked with grease, then tosses that aside too.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. Slower. Measured.

“I don’t let anyone else do a lot of things.”

You pause, fingers frozen over your food. The words hit heavier than they should. He says it like it means something — like it is something. But the moment hangs in the air for just a second too long, so you roll your eyes and reach for another tender.

“Could’ve just said I’m special,” you mutter, half-joking, careful not to drop any crumbs on his pristine interior.

Because even if he won’t say it, you already know. You’ve heard the stories — how Sukuna doesn’t even let people breathe near his car, much less eat in it. Water bottles? Off-limits. Shoes on the seat? Instant death. And yet here you are, mid-bite, elbows up, your takeout box resting comfortably in your lap like you’ve been doing this forever.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

Because he lets you.

And he never lets anyone.

[shaiyasstuff]

pit-a-pat | zayne

synopsis : He was never really yours. Not when she existed.

content : ANGST, zayne x non-mc!reader, some cannon some non-cannon, doctor zayne (a dash of sylus x reader)

It started beautifully.

Not with fireworks or declarations, but with something quieter—something softer.

You met Zayne on a Tuesday. The skies were overcast, and the campus café was packed with students trying to squeeze in one last coffee before the end-of-term chaos. You had just picked up your order, arms full of books and notes and a half-finished thought buzzing in your mind, when you turned too quickly and collided with someone.

The impact jolted through you. Your books scattered, your pen rolled under a chair, and your coffee splashed onto your sleeve. You let out a soft curse under your breath, flustered, apologizing before you even looked up.

Then a hand reached down, brushing against yours.

“I’m sorry,” came a low voice.

You looked up.

And that was the first time you saw him.

Zayne.

Tall, composed, sharp around the edges but inexplicably gentle in the way he moved. His eyes—hazel green, clear and steady—met yours like they already knew you. Like they had always known you.

He picked up your pen, handed it to you.

“I owe you a coffee,” he said. “Let me make it up to you.”

You smiled. Gave him your number.

The rest unfolded the way falling does—slow, weightless, inevitable.

There were no grand gestures. No overly rehearsed first dates. You didn’t even realize you were falling in love with him until you already had. He was simply there, steady and quiet and comforting in a way the world rarely is.

He never raised his voice. Never made you feel like you had to be more or less than exactly who you were. He wasn’t perfect—he kept things to himself, and his silences could stretch into days—but you loved him all the same. You told yourself it was enough. That love was never about loudness, but about staying.

And Zayne stayed.

For eight years.

You stood beside him through every sleepless night of his internship, through every heartbreak he brought home from the hospital. You held his hand when he was promoted, when he won awards, when the weight of lives saved and lost pressed too heavily against his shoulders.

You built a quiet life together. Shared takeout containers and cold pillows. Lazy Sunday mornings and long nights where your laptop glowed across the room as he dozed off beside you in his scrubs.

You became a writer, the kind with notebooks full of fictional heartbreaks, never quite knowing you were walking toward your own.

And you thought—foolishly, recklessly—that he was your ending.

That one day, you would wear white, and he would wait for you at the altar, hands trembling, heart full.

But some love stories are not meant to be lived. Only written.

—•

You stood outside his office now.

Your hand clutched his notebook, the one he left behind this morning in his rush to get to the hospital. His keys jangled faintly against your palm. You had texted, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t unusual. He got busy.

You told yourself that.

But the dread sitting in your chest was new.

The door to his office was slightly ajar. You stepped closer without thinking, intending only to knock—just knock, hand the things over, and leave.

But then, you heard his voice.

Low. Familiar. But not like you’d ever heard it before.

“I did this all… for you.”

Your body went still.

Inside, Zayne was standing with a girl you didn’t recognize—not at first. She was smaller than you, delicate. Her eyes were wide and wet. Zayne’s hand hovered just beside her cheek, and his other gripped her forearm like she was something slipping from his grasp.

“I planned this. To be your physician. To work here. Just so I could see you.”

The world tilted.

A cold, sharp pressure settled in your chest, and your fingers loosened. The keys dropped first, hitting the floor with a sound that sliced through the silence. His notebook followed, landing with a dull thud on the waiting chair beside the door.

Both of them turned.

She looked at you with startled recognition.

Zayne’s eyes locked onto yours. And in that instant, everything changed.

You knew.

You remembered her now. He had mentioned her once. His childhood friend. The one with the heart condition. A passing story over dinner, shared like a memory too old to matter.

You hadn’t thought anything of it then.

But you understood now.

She wasn’t a memory.

She was the reason.

The reason he became a doctor. The reason he worked here.

The reason for his choices, his ambition, his silence.

The reason he stayed up at night, staring at the ceiling.

The reason he chose a life of saving people—so he wouldn’t lose her.

You wanted to ask him if it was all a lie. But the words wouldn’t come.

Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

And he didn’t deny it.

He didn’t say your name. He didn’t come after you.

He just stood there. Watching.

And that hurt more than anything else.

You turned and walked away.

Not out of pride. Not out of anger.

But because staying would’ve shattered you in ways you weren’t sure you could recover from.

You made it to the elevator before the tears came. Quiet ones, slipping down your cheeks like they had every right to be there. You didn’t wipe them away. You didn’t try to breathe through the ache.

You let them fall.

Eight years.

Eight years of loving someone who had always belonged to someone else.

You had been writing your love story in ink.

But he had written his in pencil. And now, he had erased you.

You don’t go home right away.

You wander the streets with no destination, the city blurring past you like watercolor in the rain. Cars pass. People pass. The world keeps moving, unaware that yours has come undone.

By the time you return to your apartment, it’s dark.

You don’t bother turning on the lights. You sit on the edge of the bed where he’s slept beside you for years, staring at the familiar shapes in the shadows—his worn coat slung over the chair, the framed photo on the nightstand, the mug with his initials you always forget to put away.

And then the door clicks.

You don’t move.

You hear the soft shuffle of his shoes being kicked off. The hesitant steps down the hallway.

Then his voice.

“Hey.”

Quiet. Careful. Like the word might break.

You still don’t move.

A beat. Two. Then he speaks again. “I didn’t expect you to be there.”

You almost laugh. Didn’t expect—

You turn slowly to face him. The expression on your face is not angry. It’s worse.

It’s tired.

Empty.

“What was I supposed to see, Zayne?” you ask. Your voice doesn’t tremble, but it’s raw. “Because all I saw was a man in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t deny it.

He doesn’t even flinch.

He just looks at you with that same unreadable gaze he always has, like he’s weighing truths against silence. Like he’s trying to choose the least painful version of honesty.

“She was sick,” he says quietly. “You knew that.”

“That’s not the part that hurts.” Your words are sharp, but they don’t rise in volume. “The part that hurts is you built your whole life around her—and I didn’t know. I loved you for eight years. And I didn’t know.”

Zayne’s eyes darken, but he says nothing.

You continue, barely able to keep your voice steady. “Every step you took, every choice you made—becoming a doctor, working at Akso Hospital… You said you wanted to help people. You made me believe that was who you were.”

“I am that,” he says quickly.

“But that’s not why you did it.” Your voice cracks on the last word. “You did it for her.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You almost laugh again, but it turns into something hollow.

“You didn’t mean to,” you echo, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize the face of someone you no longer recognize. “Zayne, I built my life around you. I was ready to marry you. I was planning forever with someone who—”

You choke. You try to breathe.

“—with someone who’s heart was never really mine.”

His shoulders stiffen. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” you say. “You loved her. You still love her. I was just… convenient.”

“That’s not true,” he says sharply. It’s the first time he’s raised his voice. “You weren’t convenient. You were—”

“What, Zayne? What was I?” you whisper. “A distraction? A substitute? Someone you convinced yourself you could be happy with because she wasn’t here?”

He looks away. That’s all the answer you need.

You don’t cry. Not this time. There’s nothing left in you to fall apart.

Instead, you stand.

“I would’ve understood if you had just told me,” you say quietly. “I would’ve left. I would’ve let you go. But you didn’t. You let me believe I was your person. And now, I don’t even know what was real.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move past him. He doesn’t call your name.

He just stands there, in the center of the hallway, with guilt written all over his face.

And you realize, for all his brilliance, for all the lives he’s saved.

Zayne never had the courage to save yours from this.

—•

You don’t even know why you agreed to be here.

Maybe part of you wanted closure. Maybe the angrier part of you wanted to look her in the eye and find something—anything—to blame.

Or maybe, in the raw aftermath of it all, you just wanted to understand what could possibly be so powerful that it unraveled eight years of your life like thread from a seam.

The hospital courtyard is quiet when you arrive. The air is cold, overcast with a brittle kind of stillness. You sit down on the far end of the stone bench, your hands curled inside your coat sleeves. The silence hums in your ears.

You almost leave.

But then you hear footsteps—soft, hesitant.

She stops in front of you. The girl.

The reason.

She looks like something out of a different life—slight, pale, wrapped in a coat two sizes too big. Her hair is tucked behind her ears, and her face is gentle in a way that feels unfair.

You wish she had sharpness to her. Arrogance.

Something you could hate on sight.

But she doesn’t.

She looks… kind.

And somehow, that hurts more.

“Hi,” she says, tentative.

You don’t answer. You just watch her, expression unreadable, trying to see what he must’ve seen.

She glances down, wringing her hands. “Thanks for coming.”

You almost say don’t thank me. Almost. But the words stay behind your teeth.

She sits, carefully keeping distance between you.

A long silence stretches out.

“I know this is strange,” she begins, “and I don’t want to make anything worse. I just thought… maybe you deserved to hear it from me.”

Your jaw clenches. “Did you know about me?”

She hesitates. Then, “Yes.”

You inhale slowly. That answer burns.

“So you knew,” you murmur, your voice tighter than you want it to be, “and you still let it happen.”

“I didn’t let anything happen,” she says softly. “I didn’t come looking for him. I didn’t expect to see him again. And when I did, I didn’t know how to undo it.”

Undo it. As if this is something she can unspool. As if your heart was a thread to pull clean.

You turn to her then, finally meeting her gaze. “I tried to hate you.”

She flinches, but you continue.

“I wanted to. I really, really did. I told myself you were selfish. That you ruined everything. That he wouldn’t have drifted if you hadn’t been there.”

Your eyes sting. But the tears stay where they are.

“I needed to hate you. Because hating him… it’s harder. And hating myself—well, that’s already happening.”

She looks at you with something close to sorrow. Not pity. Not guilt. Just a deep, quiet understanding.

“I never meant to take anything from you,” she says. “But I think… I always had him. Even when I didn’t want to.”

You nod slowly. That’s the part that kills you.

“It wasn’t fair,” you whisper. “I loved him for eight years. I gave him everything. And he—he was building a life around you the entire time.”

The girl’s lips tremble. “I don’t think he knew how to let go of me. Not fully. I don’t even think he knew he hadn’t.”

You close your eyes. The wind picks up, threading cold fingers through your coat.

“You know what’s funny?” you say, voice hollow. “I thought we were preparing for a wedding. Turns out, I was standing in the way of a reunion.”

Silence falls again. Heavy. Unforgiving.

She blinks quickly, her throat working around words she can’t say. “I’m sorry.”

You believe her. That’s the worst part.

You wanted her to be cruel, or callous, or indifferent. You wanted her to be easy to hate.

But she’s just a girl with a fragile heart, loved too deeply by someone who was never entirely yours to begin with.

You rise slowly. Your legs feel heavy, as if grief has settled in your joints.

“I hope he saves you,” you murmur. “I hope it’s worth everything he lost.”

You don’t wait for her to respond.

You leave. And this time, you don’t cry.

But something in you quietly, irrevocably, closes.

—•

He shows up three days later.

You don’t know how he finds the nerve.

You’ve ignored his calls. His texts. The pathetic, half-sincere “Can we talk?” messages that began the night after the garden. He should’ve known better. He should’ve stayed gone.

But here he is.

You hear the knock this time. You sit still for a moment, your fingers curled around the edge of the blanket you’ve barely left for days, breath caught between dread and fury.

He knocks again. Harder this time.

You stand. Not because you want to see him—because you need to. To put a face to the damage.

When you open the door, it’s like nothing has changed. He’s still Zayne. Rain-damp, serious, heartbreakingly familiar in that coat you once buried your face into when the world felt too loud.

But he’s not yours anymore.

Not really.

“What do you want?” you ask. No softness. No welcome.

His jaw tenses. “To talk.”

Your laugh is sharp and joyless. “Of course. Now you talk.”

“I know I should’ve—”

“Spare me the guilt,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood to hear you pretend this wasn’t calculated.”

He flinches. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh no?” You take a step forward. “You became a doctor for her, Zayne. You took a job at her hospital. You became her physician. How long were you going to keep lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t tell me!” you shout. “That’s the same thing!”

Your voice echoes through the hallway. You don’t care who hears. You want it to hurt.

He looks at you, lips parted like he wants to defend himself—but nothing comes out.

“I asked you once,” you continue, quieter now but no less cutting, “why you wanted to be a doctor. You told me it was to save lives. You looked me in the eye and lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he says again, harsher now. “That’s still true. Saving her doesn’t make that less real.”

“It makes everything less real,” you spit. “Eight years, Zayne. I gave you everything. I built a future around someone who was still living in his past.”

“She almost died,” he snaps. “Do you understand that? She was twelve. I thought I lost her. I made a promise—”

“To her,” you interrupt. “You made a promise to her, and you made a life with me. You don’t get to have both.”

He falls silent.

His hands are clenched at his sides. His mouth is tight. You can tell he wants to argue, but he won’t. Because he knows you’re right.

“She was never gone,” you whisper. “Not from your heart. Not from your plans. And you… you let me believe I was enough. That I was your beginning and your end. But I was just—” your voice cracks, “I was just a pause in the story you’d always meant to return to.”

He shakes his head, voice strained. “That’s not what you were.”

“Then what was I, Zayne?”

He looks at you like he’s searching for the right words. The truth. But it’s too late for carefully packaged honesty.

You take a breath. It’s cold in your lungs. “You don’t get to grieve this. Not now. Not when you’re the one who ended it.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You laugh again. This time, it sounds like it might break you. “But you did.”

You walk back inside and return a minute later with the box—his books, his charger, the old hoodie you used to sleep in. You shove it into his arms.

He doesn’t take it right away. “Please—don’t let this be how it ends.”

You stare at him, empty. Tired. “Zayne, it ended the moment you chose silence.”

He lowers his head. Grips the box like it’s the only thing holding him together.

And when he finally turns to leave, you don’t stop him.

This time, you don’t look back.

And this time—he does cry.

He doesn’t go home.

Not right away.

He drives. Somewhere. Anywhere. The roads blur beneath the city lights, each turn as pointless as the last. He forgets where he’s meant to be.

He doesn’t cry at first.

That doesn’t happen until later—when he pulls over on the side of an empty street, kills the engine, and sits in the silence he spent years wrapping around his truth.

And then it hits him.

Not like a punch. No, it’s slower than that.

It’s the steady, suffocating realization that you’re gone.

Really gone.

Not just upset. Not waiting for him to make it right.

Gone, because you loved him too deeply to stay where you were never really seen.

He rests his forehead against the steering wheel and exhales a broken sound that might be a sob. Might be a prayer. Might just be everything finally coming undone.

How did he get here?

He thinks back to when you met. Your laugh—unexpected, soft. The way you always saw right through his silences, but never pushed too hard. How you held his hand during exams, during sleepless nights, during the moments he thought he might collapse under the weight of what he couldn’t say.

And now?

Now you won’t even look at him.

And he doesn’t blame you.

He’d clung so tightly to a ghost of the past, he never noticed he was strangling the only real thing he had left.

The worst part? He meant it. Every word he said to the other girl. The promise. The devotion. He did want to save her. He did want to protect her.

But he never asked himself why.

Maybe he thought saving her would fix something in him. That if he kept his promise, if he held on tightly enough, he’d redeem himself for that helpless, broken boy who once stood in an ER, covered in blood that didn’t belong to him.

But he never meant to love both.

Not like this.

He stares out the windshield, watching the rain bead and slide down the glass. It reminds him of you. Of the way you never cried in front of him—not even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

And that night in the hallway—your voice shaking but never pleading. Your eyes full of betrayal, not begging. That was love, too. The kind that breaks itself before it breaks you.

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, as if that will erase the weight in his chest.

But it stays.

God, it stays.

And for the first time since med school, since the long nights that almost drowned him, Zayne doesn’t know what to do.

Not with himself.

Not with this regret.

He was always good at silence. At burying what he didn’t want to face.

But this time, silence cost him the only person who ever stayed.

The hospital doesn’t feel the same.

It should.

Same corridors. Same sterile smell. Same rustle of nurses’ shoes against polished floors. He walks these halls every day—he knows the pattern of the tiles, the rhythm of the fluorescent lights above. He’s built a life inside this place.

But now?

It feels hollow. Too bright in some places. Too quiet in others.

He stands outside Operating Room B with a chart in his hand, staring at words he isn’t reading. His mind drifts. Again.

“Doctor Zayne?”

He blinks. A nurse is looking at him, brows slightly furrowed.

“You’re needed in Cardiology.”

Right. Cardiology. Her department.

He nods, mutters something close to thanks, and moves.

He still performs the surgeries. Still signs the charts. Still nods when interns look at him like he holds the world in his hands.

But something is gone.

And it’s not skill. It’s not precision.

Its presence.

He’s no longer in his life. He’s moving through it. Performing. Like muscle memory.

The girl—his childhood friend—she’s recovering. Stable. And she smiles when she sees him, small and grateful and warm.

But it doesn’t make him feel anything.

Not now.

Not since he saw the look on your face—the woman he promised a future to. The one who gave him all of herself without knowing he was never giving you all of him.

He remembers your hands, trembling when you pushed the box into his arms. The edge in your voice when you asked, “Then what was I, Zayne?”

He didn’t have an answer then.

He still doesn’t.

Because how do you explain to someone that they were your peace, your softness, your home—and you lost them because you couldn’t let go of a promise made by a boy who hadn’t learned how to speak his grief out loud?

Zayne finds himself in the stairwell, long after his shift ends. He doesn’t even remember walking here.

He sits on the steps. Folds forward. Buries his face in his hands.

He doesn’t cry. He already did that. He’s past crying now.

What he feels now is worse.

Emptiness.

The kind that seeps into everything.

He pulls out his phone. Opens your name. Stares at the last message you sent.

“Can you grab oat milk on the way home?”

He didn’t even answer it.

He thinks about texting. Something. Anything.

“I miss you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know I was choosing wrong until you were gone.”

But he doesn’t.

Because what could he say now that wouldn’t sound like too little, too late?

And because maybe—deep down—he knows you deserve someone who doesn’t have to lose you to realize you were everything.

—•

You were sitting at your usual corner table in a café tucked between a bookstore and a florist—one of those quiet places where time didn’t feel so heavy. You weren’t writing. Not that day. You just sat there, fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, watching the world through a pane of glass slick with water.

Existing in the small, still spaces between grief and recovery.

You had been doing that a lot lately. Watching.

It was raining. Of course it was.

It had been seven months since Zayne. Since the silence. Since the hallway.

You hadn’t dated anyone. You couldn’t.

Not when your heart still ached in places you hadn’t named.

That’s where you met Sylus.

He walked in, his footsteps confident as he strides up to the counter.

You didn’t look up at first. Just heard the low hum of the door chime, the soft sound of boots on wet tile. Then came the voice.

“I’ll take whatever’s strongest and not completely terrible.”

It made you glance over your shoulder.

And there he was.

White silver hair that stood out against the interior of the coffee shop.

Sharp-featured. Tall. Dressed in black with a half-dried coat slung over one arm and stormy red eyes that didn’t belong in a place like this.

He looked… misfit.

Like someone who had gotten lost on his way to something louder.

He caught you staring.

Smirked.

“Judging me already?” he said as he passed your table.

You blinked, caught off guard. “You looked like you came in here by accident.”

“I did.” He set his cup on the table across from yours without asking. “Lucky me.”

You stared at him. He stared right back. There was no hesitation in him.

No over-eagerness. No rehearsed charm. Just a strange kind of confidence, like he didn’t care whether you invited him in or not.

And yet… somehow, he was easy to talk to.

That first conversation was short. Nothing special. He told you he was in the city for work. Said he hated the rain. You said you didn’t mind it.

He teased you for that. Called you a poet. You didn’t correct him.

Before he left, he asked for your name. Then he gave you his. Sylus.

He didn’t ask for your number. He didn’t flirt. He just said, “Maybe I’ll see you here again.”

And you did.

The next week. And the week after that.

Same table. Same rain.

He never asked about your past, and you never asked about his.

He talked to you like you were new. Like you weren’t made of broken pieces.

And you liked that.

You liked that he didn’t try to fix you. That he didn’t reach for your scars or ask what happened.

He just saw you. All of you.

Eventually, you started writing again.

He’d sit across from you, reading some obscure book or sketching something in a notebook he never let you see.

“You ever gonna tell me what that is?” you asked one afternoon.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “when you’re done hiding behind yours.”

You laughed. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel strange.

He didn’t slip into your life the way Zayne did.

No, Sylus walked in with loud footsteps and called attention to all the parts of you that still needed to be held.

And when he finally kissed you—months later, after too many late nights and half-finished conversations—he didn’t whisper promises.

He only said, “You don’t have to be ready. Just let me stay.”

And you did.

Now, you’re curled up on the couch in one of Sylus’s old sweaters, legs folded beneath you, a half-read book resting in your lap.

You’ve read the same paragraph three times. The words blur and smear.

Not because you’re tired—though you are—but because your thoughts won’t sit still.

He notices.

He always does.

Sylus steps out from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. You hadn’t asked for tea. You never really need to. He knows the nights when you can’t quite find your center.

He sits beside you, close but never crowding, and offers the cup without a word.

You take it, fingers brushing his. His touch is warm. Steady.

You don’t speak right away.

He doesn’t push.

That’s the thing about Sylus. He doesn’t try to draw the pain out of you. He just makes space for it. Holds it. Waits until you’re ready.

After a long moment, you say quietly, “It’s almost been two years.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “Since him?”

You nod.

Sylus leans back against the couch, stretching an arm along the top. Not possessive. Just there. Like a safety net.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I just… thought I’d be past the memory by now.”

He hums softly. “Memories don’t care about time. They’re like bruises under the skin. You forget they’re there until something presses too hard.”

You glance at him, lips tugging into a faint, worn smile. “Is that your poetic way of saying it’s okay to feel like this?”

He smirks. “It’s my poetic way of saying I’m not going anywhere.”

Your smile softens. Fades into something real.

He’s never tried to replace what came before. Never asked you to forget it. He simply stayed.

When you turned away.

When you flinched at first touch.

When you said not yet.

When you said I’m not whole.

Sylus looked you in the eye and said, You don’t have to be.

And you believed him.

Now, you lean your head against his shoulder, tea still warm between your hands. He lets you rest there in silence.

No questions. No expectations.

Just the quiet knowing that this—whatever it is—is something different.

Something earned.

And when his hand finds yours and doesn’t let go, you feel it again.

That peace you thought you’d never know after Zayne.

The kind of love that doesn’t arrive like a storm.

But like a home.

—•

Two years later, you see him again.

You hadn’t expected it—weren’t prepared for it.

It’s a charity gala, the kind Sylus rarely agrees to attend, but he’s here tonight for you.

One hand on your back, the other wrapped loosely around a glass of champagne he hasn’t touched. He looks just like he always does, sharp suit, sharp tongue, a man made of storm and steel, and yet—when he looks at you, it softens him.

Always.

You never thought you’d get to feel this way again.

Safe.

Loved.

Chosen.

You’re speaking to someone—maybe a publisher, maybe a donor—you don’t really remember.

And then you feel it.

That cold flicker down your spine.

That familiar stillness before the silence breaks.

You turn.

And there he is.

Zayne.

Two years older. A little more tired. A little less certain.

He’s standing just across the room, alone in a sea of people.

He looks like he doesn’t quite belong here, like he’s watching a world he no longer fits into.

And then his eyes find you.

You don’t look away.

You let him see it—all of it.

The soft smile on your lips. The ring on your finger. The way Sylus leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple without even realizing he’s doing it.

Zayne’s expression doesn’t change. Not really. But you feel the ripple.

Because this time, you are not the one breaking.

You are not the one watching love walk away.

You’re standing still.

And someone is holding on.

You excuse yourself quietly from the conversation, fingers brushing Sylus’s wrist as you turn to whisper something.

He catches the look in your eyes. He knows. Of course he knows.

But he says nothing. Just stays close. Just keeps his hand resting at the small of your back like he’s reminding you—you’re not alone.

When you approach, Zayne doesn’t speak right away.

He just looks at you like he’s trying to memorize the life you’ve built without him. The one he didn’t stay long enough to deserve.

“You look…” he begins, but falters. His voice is rougher now. Thinner.

“Happy?” you offer gently.

He nods. “Yeah.”

You glance back at Sylus, who’s watching from a respectful distance, sharp-eyed and protective as ever. He always gives you space when you need it. But never too far.

“I didn’t know you were back in the city,” Zayne says.

You nod. “We moved here last spring.”

“We?”

“My husband and I.”

He flinches—just barely. But you see it.

You don’t gloat. You don’t need to.

There’s a grace in moving on that silence can never rewrite.

“He’s good to you?” Zayne asks.

You smile. “He sees me.”

The words hang between you. Heavy. Sharp. True.

Zayne swallows hard. “I’m glad.”

You nod. And this time, it’s real. “So am I.”

You don’t stay long. Just long enough for him to see that you survived him. That you bloomed after the break. That someone else saw what he couldn’t hold.

You return to Sylus without looking back.

He slides his arm around your waist and leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I am now.”

And as the music rises and the crowd begins to move again, you rest your hand over your husband’s and let yourself forget the boy who couldn’t choose you.

Because you’ve already chosen the man who never had to be asked.

masterlist

[mazeeelabyrinth]

☆ — sᥡᥣᥙs after teasing him all day

♡ Sylus x afab!reader

tags. smut, oral sex—cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, mild orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk Sylus, petnames—kitten, sweetheart

wc. 1k

a/n. Idk how to format my blogs anymore lol, I'm getting lazy

masterlist ☆ ao3 ☆ navigation

You had been teasing him all day—half on purpose, half just existing in that damn oversized shirt he liked too much. Sylus did not say anything at first. Just watched you, eyes dark, tongue flicking briefly over his bottom lip.

Later, you caught the shift in his mood when he locked the bedroom door behind you that night—no smirk, just simmering intensity.

You had barely finished teasing him—just a bratty little smirk, a shift of your legs in that silk robe when you prepared for bed—and suddenly Sylus was kneeling between your thighs as if prayer was a sport.

“You’ve been a naughty kitten,” he murmured, slowly removing your panties and brushing his nose against your inner thigh. “It’s time I finally pay attention to this pretty cunt, don't you think?”

Then, he kissed your thighs like they were sacred—each kiss slow, open-mouthed, deliberate, like he wanted to taste your pulse before he got to the main event.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs circling your skin as though he was trying to memorize the feel and shape of you.

When his mouth finally landed between your legs, it was not soft. Sylus licked like he was attempting to slake his thirst—and your cunt was water and he had been crawling through a desert.

Your breath broke into fragmented syllables of his name. Sylus did not rush—of course he did not. Everything he did was calculated, elegant in its cruelty.

Those crimson eyes, intense and sharp, never left yours. Not even as his tongue kept dragging in slow, hypnotic circles over your labia. Each one ended with a flick against your clit that made you gasp—as though he was ringing a bell only he could hear.

Certainly not even when your hips arched off the mattress in response. He only pinned you down harder, one strong arm wrapping beneath your thigh while his other hand splayed over your stomach—holding you in place like a pinned butterfly.

“You always tremble right here,” he murmured, voice sonorous as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin on your mons.

“Sylus, please…”

You reached down to thread your fingers in his hair, but he caught your wrist with maddening ease and pinned it to the mattress beside your hip, fingers firm but never bruising.

“Let me work, sweetheart,” he said, low and amused, breath skimming against your slick cunt. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He spoke as if you were a decadent feast meant to be devoured by kings, not a writhing, breathless woman beneath his mouth. But then he moaned against you, like your taste was something divine, and your thighs clenched helplessly around his ears.

“Sylus, I’m—” you gasped, already feeling your climax building—sharp and quick and terrifying.

He smiled. That smile should have been illegal.

“You’ll come when I tell you to,” he whispered, lips brushing your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking against your cunt again, this time faster, tighter, ruthlessly precise.

Every flick of his tongue was done to leave you whimpering. Every suck of his lips around your clit came with a wicked gleam in his eye. He was too good at this. It wasn’t fair. He mapped you like a battlefield, found every weak point, and exploited it with finesse.

You didn’t stand a chance.

It didn’t take long before your first orgasm crashed over you, violent and shuddering. Your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t let up—he growled softly, like your resistance only thrilled him.

Again, one hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your trembling belly to rest over your sternum, keeping you pinned while he continued to lick and suck like you hadn’t just shattered for him.

“Sylus—fuck—I can’t—” you tried to twist, to move, to escape the overwhelming pleasure spiraling into pain. “Too much—too soon…”

He only hummed in response. The bastard was smiling. You could feel it against your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’re done, sweetheart,” he said, voice ragged, like it physically pained him to lift his mouth from you. His fingers slid in then—two of them, deep and slow, curling just right—and your breath hitched. “Not when you’re still this wet.”

Your body jolted, overstimulation crashing over you in waves—each touch too sharp, each stroke too much. Your second orgasm dragged out of you like a scream in reverse. You clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping against his shoulders. He didn’t flinch.

“Fuck—there it is,” he said against you, the vibration of his voice against your clit making you jolt. “Keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll come without even touching myself.”

No mercy. He did not stop there. You wondered if his jaw even ached.

Sylus was nothing if not indulgent when it comes to your pleasure. His teeth scraped your swollen clitoris, nipping the hooded, overstimulated bud just enough to make your cunt begin squirting around his pumping fingers and hungry mouth.

“Sylus! Oh fuck—please!” You gasped, hips writhing, too much—it was too much—but he lapped through it like he was starving. Like your orgasms had been an appetizer and he was determined to feast.

You tried to pull away but his arms locked tighter, pulling you right back against him.

By the time the third hit—harder, meaner—you were whimpering into your hand, too wrecked to speak, too far gone to beg properly. He licked you through it, slower now, gentler, but no less thorough.

His sharp features contorted into a wolfish pride when he finally pulled back, mouth slick and chin glistening. He leaned over you, bracing himself on one arm, and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“You always taste like heaven,” he said, voice low and reverent, like he had just discovered a religion and it wore your body.

You tried to answer. Your lips moved. Nothing came out but a ragged sigh.

Sylus chuckled, kissed the tip of your sweaty nose, and whispered, “And sweetheart, I am feeling religious.”

God help you—you got what you wanted but you were not getting sleep tonight.

[huntercoreene]

Measuring

Pairing: Caleb x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: Caleb's preparations for you before the first time you have sex

Word Count: 1k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, teasing, slice of life, caleb being a bit of a dork

Read on Ao3 or under the cut 👇

You and Caleb were laying down on the couch, enjoying the lazy afternoon sunset. He had his head on your stomach and you had your hand on his hair, brushing his soft strands.

You thought Caleb was asleep when he lifted the hand that was resting on your belly and stretched his thumb and index finger over your stomach.

“Caleb… what are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Nothing,” he replied to you as he quickly stopped what he was doing and hugged you tighter instead, you felt him nuzzle his head on your chest and smiled.

You knew he was up to something but you were also so comfortable. He had his weight partially on you, the warmth of his body that surrounded you and the comfort of his scent all around… it was impossible for you to keep your eyes from closing any longer.

Caleb sighed as he compared the distance he measured on your belly and the length of his member. “She’s too small… how is it gonna fit?” he said as he scratched his head with the top of his pen.

He knew when you two finally got close enough for it, it was going to be the first time for both of you. He had done his research, reading everything he could find on the subject, from research articles to smutty stories.

He knew he was bigger than average, much bigger and you were so damn tiny. His whole palm could cover the entirety of your stomach when he splayed it on your skin. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy comparing the difference in your sized but this was making him worry.

He picked up his special notebook and flipped it open. Extra big condoms were already taken care of. He had ordered them and they would arrive soon. He tapped his pen on the notebook, should I get some lube, too? He was confident he could make you wet enough to take him but he added it to his list just in case. It wouldn’t hurt to have it somewhere easily accessible.

He underlined the point that wrote ‘toys’. He knew logically that getting you loosened up and ready with smaller dildos could be helpful… buuuut he hated the idea of not being the first thing inside you. He scratched over the point that wrote dildos with force. No. Even imagining it was making him jealous.

Vibrators, he thought as his eyes settled on the word. He didn’t hate the idea of them but both vibrators and dildos had the risk of freaking you out on your first time so it was not gonna happen, either. His eyes flickered down to the last point on the toys section, his mechanical arm.

His face flushed with how lewd the thought was but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining it. He could calibrate his mechanical arm to stimulate vibrations. The thought of using it while fingering you had gotten him to the finish line a few times already. It was an afterthought though. He worried it would be too much for your first time, and to be honest he was unsure about using it at all in such a way. Still, he was working on how he could implement such a function — it was better to be prepared, after all. The biggest drawback of his mechanical arm was that he was not going to be able to feel you with it, even if his fingers were inside you... though he still would prefer to use his arm, something that was a part of him than a completely disconnected toy.

His mind slipped into imagining how your face could look like when he pleasured you and all the pretty noises you could make when he slipped his fingers in between your wet folds, getting you ready to take all of him… ah shit, he thought as he felt the familiar strain in his pants. He had slipped into the office to add things to his notebook while you were sleeping on the couch in the living room. The last thing he wanted was getting caught by you while he pleasured himself.

The thought of getting caught by you in such a situation was embarrassing but also… it was not helping how hard his cock has gotten.

“Ugh,” he groaned as he focused back to his notepad.

If possible, relieve yourself before you see her on the event.He added to his notes. He certainly didn’t want to come undone in his pants while in the middle of touching you, seeing how he was releasing precum already just thinking about it… he sighed with frustration. He could not let that happen and let you down.

“Caleb, where did you go?” came your voice from the door, making him jump from where he sat.

“Nothing,” he responded quickly and scrambled to cover his notepad. He was so focused on what he was doing and had not heard you come in, at all.

“What were you doing?” you walked closer to him.

He got up and covered his desk with his body. “Nothing important, are you hungry? It’s getting late. What do you want for dinner tonight?”

You acted like you were thinking before quickly reaching behind him to take his notepad.

“Pipsqueak!” you heard his voice drop an octave as he pulled the notepad away from your hands.

“What’s in there that got you so flushed?” You said as you reached to grab it back from him.

He raised his hands before he switched the notepad to his other hand as he held you away with his free one. “It’s classified.”

You jumped to reach to it — you were not going to give up that easily. “You keep classified notes on a cute notepad covered with stickers I gave you?”

���Yes, exactly. It makes me miss you less when you're not around,” his sweet words and caring voice gave you a pause as he left a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”

“Fiine,” you gave up… for the moment.

He tried to be as swift as possible in his movement while covering your field of vision but you could be sneaky, too. You took note of it as he placed the notebook on top of the library. You were not gonna give up until you’ve figured out what could get Caleb so flustered.

Inspired by this fanart

Let me know if you like it!

Part 2 is here

[petew21-blog]

Homophobic gym teacher

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/petew21-blog/780674479706734592/homophobic-gym-teacher-part-2?source=share

[nilla03]

𝑩𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 ✰

𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡：𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑏

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠： 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖，𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦

Nanami wasn't thrilled about you going out, but he let you go. You had pouted, kissed his jaw, and assured him you'd be safe, promising to text him throughout the night. He trusted you-of course, he did-but that didn't mean he liked the idea of you in some dark, crowded club, surrounded by drunk men who wouldn't know how to keep their hands to themselves.

Still, he kissed your forehead before you left, his large hands squeezing your waist as he muttered, "Be good."

You had every intention of listening. Really, you did.

But a few drinks in, and things started getting a little hazy.

You were laughing with your friends, dancing under the dim neon lights, feeling warm and weightless as the alcohol pulsed through your veins. You had been texting Nanami like you promised-little updates here and there-but at some point, your replies got lazy, a few too many typos slipping in, and then... nothing.

That's when he decides to come get you.

By the time Nanami arrived, you were at the bar, giggling at something your friend said, a drink in your hand that you were already too tipsy to finish. He spotted you instantly-your pretty outfit, your glossy lips, the way your jewelry caught the low lights. You looked like a doll, and you were practically glowing, but the moment his sharp eyes landed on you, all he felt was irritation.

Of course, you had gotten carried away.

You didn't even notice him at first, too busy swaying to the music, but the second a warm, familiar hand touched the small of your back, you gasped. You turned, blinking up at him with wide, glassy eyes, a smile spreading across your face.

"Kento!" you chirped, stumbling a little as you reached for him. "You came!"

Nanami exhaled through his nose, steadying you with one firm hand. "Of course I did," he said, his voice even. "You stopped answering your phone."

"I did?" You frowned, pulling out your phone and squinting at the screen like the little device had betrayed you. "Oops..."

Nanami only shook his head. "We're going home."

You pouted, clinging to his arm. "But I was having fun."

"I can see that," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to the way your dress had ridden up from all your dancing. His jaw clenched.

"Come on, sweetheart. We're leaving."

The ride home was quiet.

You sat in the passenger seat, still tipsy, playing with the hem of your dress, stealing little glances at Nanami He was gripping the wheel tightly, his jaws is expression unreadable.

You knew that look.

He wasn't angry-not really-but he wasn't happy either.

When you pulled into the driveway and he helped you out of the car, his hands steady on your waist, you leaned into him with a dramatic sigh.

"Kento," you whined, tilting your head up to look at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His golden-brown eyes flickered down to you, his fingers tightening slightly around your waist. "No," he said, calm as ever.

You let out another little whimper, pressing against his chest. "I just wanted to have fun," you mumbled. "Now l wanna feel good..."

You curled your fingers into his shirt, tilting your face up for a kiss, but he only exhaled sharply through his nose.

"No."

Your brows furrowed, and you let out a small, needy sound as he pulled you inside, guiding you toward the bedroom.

You thought he was going to give in, but instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap-his thigh, to be exact.

You blinked, confused for a moment. "Kento?"

"If you're so desperate," he murmured, his hands resting heavily on your waist, "you can help yourself."

Your face burned as you realized what he meant. Your thighs squeezed together on instinct, your hands resting on his broad shoulders,

"That's mean," you whispered, trying to shift in his lap, but his grip tightened.

"You were being a brat tonight," he said, his voice low and unwavering.

Your breath hitched.

He was warm beneath you, his thigh firm and unyielding as he kept you still. You squirmed, just a little, testing him, but his fingers dug into your waist, keeping you in place.

"Go on," he murmured, voice deep and smooth. "Show me how bad you want it."

Your lips parted slightly, embarrassment and arousal mixing in your chest, but you listened.

You shifted against his thigh, feeling the friction immediately, and let out a soft, desperate little whimper.

Nanami exhaled through his nose, watching you with sharp, dark eyes.

You whined again, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, but you didn't stop moving. His thigh was so firm beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, your breaths coming out in short, needy little gasps.

Nanami hummed, pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

Your body was trembling-hot, desperate, on the edge-but Nanami still wouldn't budge.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you over his thigh, keeping the movements slow, controlled, not enough.

You were falling apart, your whimpers turning into soft little sobs as you rocked against the hard muscle, your slick staining his slacks, making a mess of him-but he didn't seem to care.

"You're crying again," he murmured, voice smooth, unaffected. His eyes moved down to where your hips stuttered against his leg. "Pathetic."

You were pathetic, and you didn't care.

You sniffled, rubbing your teary cheek against his chest, trying again to grind harder, to chase the relief you needed, but his grip tightened, forcing you back into that slow, agonizing pace.

"K-Kento," you gasped, nails digging into his arms.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You can finish, sweetheart-but only if you do it my way."

You let out a broken little whimper, nodding frantically, your body twitching against him. "I-I will," you hiccupped, pressing your face against his shoulder. "Please, I-I c-can't-"

Nanami hummed, finally letting you move again-but not how you wanted.

He controlled it-pressing your hips down harder against his thigh, making you grind exactly how he wanted, dragging you over the fabric just right, making the friction sharper, deeper, more.

You sobbed, your fingers curling into his shirt, your thighs squeezing around him as the pleasure hit, sharp and overwhelming, making your whole body tremble as you came with a choked little gasp.

Nanami exhaled slowly, watching you shake in his lap, his grip loosening just slightly, smoothing over your soft, overheated skin.

"There you go," he murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "That's my girl."

You hiccupped, still trembling, still trying to catch your breath as he rubbed slow circles into your back, grounding you, keeping you close.

"Messy little thing," he sighed, his voice softer now, amused.

You sniffled, pressing a weak little kiss to his jaw, blinking up at him with glossy, exhausted eyes.

"Still mean," you mumbled, breathless.

Nanami sighed, brushing your hair back from your sticky, flushed skin. "You're exhausting."

But he was soft with you now, gentle-pulling you close, letting you curl against him, keeping his big hands warm and steady on your body, even though you'd ruined his pants, even though you'd whined and begged like a spoiled little brat.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “I’M GONNA MARRY HER ANYWAY” ── .✦ ( how batboys marry you and propose to you )

a/n: this is a request by anon (here) but literally this is making me feel like ultra single on a spectrum, anyways I love these type of requests because I like some simple stuff like this ya know? Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Proposal: The stars are twinkling above as Dick stands beside you on a rooftop he transformed into a wonderland of fairy lights and soft music. “You’ve given me so many reasons to smile, and now I want to give you one more,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion as he gets down on one knee. His eyes are so full of love you feel like you could drown in them. When you say yes, he lifts you into his arms and spins you around, whispering, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.” (He’s such a mediocre man proposing 😭🌚 h/j)

The Ceremony: Dick watches you walk down the aisle, completely captivated, like he’s seeing the sun rise for the first time. His vows are filled with tender promises: “From the moment I met you, my heart knew it had found its home. You are my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life. I promise to stand by your side, to laugh with you, to cry with you, and to love you endlessly.” By the time he finishes, his voice cracks, and tears stream down his face. (You swear he cried like 6x times that day.)

Married Life: Every day with Dick is a celebration of love. He leaves you little notes that say, “You’re my greatest adventure” and brings you flowers just because. He holds your face in his hands like you’re the most precious thing in the world, telling you, “I fall more in love with you every single day.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

The Proposal: Jason plans something quiet, but the depth of his love shines through. Sitting on the couch together after dinner, he pulls out a small velvet box and says, “I’m not great at speeches, and I’ve never been the guy who gets things right the first time. But I know I got this right. You’re my home, my peace, and my everything. Marry me?” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable, and when he sees your tears, he gently wipes them away and says, “I’d spend my whole life making you happy.”

The Ceremony: Jason’s vows are raw and honest: “I’ve lived a life that didn’t always make sense, but you—you’re my clarity. You make me want to be better, to deserve the love you so freely give me. I promise to protect your heart, to cherish you every day, and to never stop fighting for us.” His hand shakes as he slides the ring onto your finger, but the love in his eyes steadies him.

Married Life: Jason doesn’t just love you—he adores you. He’ll randomly pull you into his lap just to hold you, resting his forehead against yours as he whispers, “You have no idea how lucky I feel to have you.” On lazy mornings, he cooks breakfast for you, insisting, “You’re too good for me, but I’m keeping you anyway.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Proposal: Tim’s proposal is a masterpiece of thoughtfulness. He plans an entire day filled with your favorite things—a visit to your favorite bookstore, dinner at the place you’ve been wanting to try, and finally, a quiet moment in a park under the stars. “I’ve spent so much of my life searching,” he says, taking your hands in his. “But with you, I’ve found everything I’ll ever need. Will you marry me?” His hands are shaking, but his voice is steady, full of hope and love.

The Ceremony: Tim looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. His vows are deeply personal: “You are my greatest discovery, the love I didn’t know I was looking for. I promise to love you with the same care and dedication I’ve put into everything I’ve ever valued—because nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do.” He kisses your hand after slipping the ring on, his eyes misty with tears.

Married Life: Tim’s love is gentle but constant. He checks in on you throughout the day with texts like, “How’s my favorite person?” and stays up late just to watch movies with you. On nights when he’s overwhelmed, he pulls you close and whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Proposal: Bruce’s proposal is understated but breathtaking. In a quiet corner of Wayne Manor, with a fire crackling in the background, he kneels before you. “ I’m not exactly good with words but…..I’ve faced many things in my life, but nothing has been as terrifying—or as wonderful—as loving you. You’ve changed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His voice is steady, but his eyes are full of emotion. (He kinda proposes the same he did with Andrea Beaumont poor guy gets a bit of flashbacks 😭😭)

The Ceremony: Bruce’s vows are simple but deeply moving: “In my darkest moments, you were my light. In my loneliest nights, you were my solace. I vow to be your partner, your protector, and your greatest love for as long as I live.” His hands linger on yours during the ring exchange, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

Married Life: Bruce loves quietly but fiercely. He kisses your forehead every morning and holds your hand under the table during dinners. On difficult days, he pulls you into his arms and whispers, “You’re my everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [maknae line]

tags: maknae line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, use of nicknames (baby, angel, puppy, sweetheart, etc), thigh job, oral sex (f. receiving), face sitting, squirting, oral sex (m. receiving), slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex (do not plz), rough sex, degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, punishments, begging, orgasm denial, creampie, pain kink, titfucking, praise, hand kink, shower sex, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.95k

add. notes: hello,..,,...,... sorry for not posting consistently n for taking so long to do this i have been busy w exams as i said but i am almost free!!! in honor of that n both my links posts for skzenha hyung line reaching 2k+ notes, i present to u skz maknae line links :3 also im sorry 2 that anon who recommended i use reddit links i Did put one in from redgifs but tbh im lazy to find good stuff on there so most of this is from twt skjdjfhjhg i hope that is Ok.. anyways enjoy ehe

hyung line ver.

. . .

⥽ … HAN JISUNG: 

link one.

one thing jisung will never say no to is a thigh job from you. he loves the feeling of your plush flesh enveloping his cock, squeezing it ever so slightly between your legs to give him that delicious pressure he so desperately craves. it's always after a particularly rough day that his eyes will light up at your offer too, and before you know it, you're both stripped down and laying on the bed, your frame resting on jisung's warm body as he bucks his hips up to chase the friction which will provide him relief at long last. sometimes, he'll ask you to do the work for him, enjoying the way you move your figure up and down his hardened length until you grow too tired, which just draws a small chuckle from his lips before he's pressing a kiss to your cheek and going back to the task himself. it always ends with him finishing between the crack of your ass, his groans reverberating through the room as he cums.

"oh, fuck. that's it, baby." your boyfriend moans below you, his pretty face contorted in pleasure as you move your thighs up and down his shaft, biting your lip at how his tip nestles itself against you. despite having been too lazy to let him fuck you, your juices still pool between your legs, acting as clear evidence of your arousal and helping in slicking up jisung's cock that's twitching from your onslaught ministrations. "sungie, 'm tired." you whine after a while, your muscles aching from the way you've been lifting them up and down for the last five minutes, to which jisung just huffs out a laugh. he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him and presses a kiss to the side of your face that has you smiling. "alright, lemme take over." he starts. "but, once i'm done, you're not going anywhere until you cum on my tongue." he whispers, sending shivers up your spine.

link two.

the first time you tried face sitting with jisung, you were hesitant. what if you suffocated him? what if he couldn't tap out in enough time and died? how would you explain that to your family at his funeral? despite your overthinking, jisung hushed away all your concerns, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he flashed you his signature smile after claiming all he needs in life is your pretty pussy smothering him. you'd gasped at his crude words and smacked him on the arm, but something about his admission had you thinking. after that, it didn't take much longer for you to give in to his fantasies, and once you got into the rhythm of it, you found yourself riding his nose and tongue often. jisung claimed you were his stress relief, and that eating you out made him feel like he was on cloud nine. you doubted his exaggerations, but as long as it made your boyfriend happy, you didn't mind.

obscene slurping fills the room, paired with your cries that bounced off the walls as jisung's tongue flicked through your wet hole. he'd been going at this for the past half an hour, hungrily lapping up at the essence dripping out of you and spreading it all over his face with the way he forced you to rock your hips back and forth. "ah, 'm close." you whimpered, making the mistake of looking down at your boyfriend who's currently got you perched on his mouth. his doe eyes make contact with yours, and you physically melt with the way he's glancing up at you so eagerly. if anything, after your announcement, his actions only get harsher and rougher, and it isn't long before you're squirting all over his face. jisung doesn't mind though, making sure to drink all of it up as he pulls you back down for another round, promising to make you cum even harder this time.

⥽ … LEE FELIX:

link one.

felix is a sensual lover through and through. he treats you to your favourite meal, buys you the clothes you want, takes care of you on your period, and of course, fucks you like he means it every single time. his favourite thing to do, however, is have you on your back with your legs spread and core on display in front of his awaiting mouth. he'll start by pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs, sucking ever so gently on the flesh just enough to make you squirm and grow wet. when he's got you leaking on the sheets, that's when he'll part you by the knees and dive in, warm tongue flicking out to caress your clit with its tip as you writhe under his hold. he does it so passionately too, enjoying the way you spray on his tongue and let out low noises which echo through the room alongside his lewd actions. he'll always milk at least one orgasm out of you before he even thinks of sinking inside you, but if you're being honest, you're sure doing that is much more pleasurable for him than actually fucking you.

"mm, lixie, baby. that feels so good." your mouth parts open in a soft gasp, feeling the way your boyfriend nudges his nose against your nub as he sticks his tongue out to lick inside your opening. you're sure that you're a mess of your own juices and felix's spit by now, but neither of you seem to care with the way he's swirling his wet muscle against your folds, too engrossed in his goal of making you cum all over his face. every so often, he groans lowly into you, causing the vibrations of his noises to rush through you as you clench around nothing. "c'mon, angel. give it to me." felix mumbles after pulling away momentarily, making direct eye contact with you as he moves back to push his tongue right against your swollen bundle of nerves. a few more deep licks and sucks from him have you falling apart in a silent scream, felix helping you ride out the tides of pleasure before he kisses his way back up your body. he's all smiles when he reaches you, which only prompts you to pull him in close to you. god, how you loved him.

link two.

your boyfriend may be the epitome of perfection, but one thing you debate felix loves as much as you are his gaming sessions with his friends. it's gotten to the point where he'll spend hours on no end punching buttons on his controller and cursing at enemies in front of his computer screen, too focused on his current round to pay you any attention. you've thought long and hard on how to get him to stop or at least give you some of his focus, and the only solution is obvious: sex. so, when felix is in the middle of a break, you take your chances, sinking to your knees and situating yourself underneath his desk much to his obvious confusion. his eyes widen when your fingers quickly make work of unzipping his shorts and tugging them down, small hands running across the fabric of his boxers as you bite your lip at the way he chubs out instantly. before he can even protest, you're yanking them off and taking him in your mouth in an instant. safe to say, his game is long forgotten after that.

felix's brows shoot up when he returns to find you waiting for him under your desk, mouth going dry when he sits down and you immediately go to take his cock out. the first press of your soft lips against his semi-hard length almost sends him spiralling, and he blames that on the fact that he hasn't touched you properly in the last day or so. he reckons that's why you're being so needy right now, watching with hooded eyes as your warm mouth wraps itself around him. he hisses at the sensation, heart thumping against his chest in alarm when his friends ask if he's okay from the other side of the call. "y-yeah, just stubbed my toe." felix lies, biting back a groan at the way your tongue licks at the underside of his dick. "pay attention, baby." you hush after pulling off of him, not even giving him a chance to recuperate before you're pushing him back in your mouth. he can hear his friends scolding him for being afk from his headphones, but their complains are far from his attention. all he can do right now is try not to cum on call, sinking back in his gaming chair as he locks gazes with you.

⥽ … KIM SEUNGMIN:

link one.

you know seungmin like the back of your hand, so you're well aware of the fact that he takes very lightly to your teasing and efforts to rile him up. on days where you decide to act out in front of his friends, he'll clench his jaw and go quiet in public, grip around your thigh tightening at most as he monitors your next moves carefully. nobody will suspect anything of it due to his nonchalance, but once he's got you back in private, that's when his facade comes crashing down. you won't even be able to speak before he's dragging you off to your shared bedroom, ripping you out of your clothes and manhandling you onto your stomach. you get no chances to protest either as he slides in without warning, your pained yelp for him to slow down falling upon deaf ears when he snaps his hips into yours with erratic thrusts. he'll degrade you and edge you until you're crying, truly looking to break your mind and body by the time he's done. he knows you'll misbehave again in the future, but in that very moment, at least he's got you right where he wants you: spread-legged and taking his cock like the slut you are.

"s-slow, minnie. hurts." you hiccup, broken words muffled when your boyfriend just pushes your head down into the sheets at your efforts to ask him to go easy on you. his scoff can be heard from above you, and you whine at the way his movements seem to pick up even rougher than before, arms pinned to your side as seungmin's body weight cages you in underneath him. "oh, please. you like the way it hurts, like it 'cause you're nothing but a whore." he taunts, his voice dripping with venom as you simply moan at his words. his balls slap against your clit with the way he's thrusting in and out of you, and all you can do is lay there and take it, your high rapidly approaching for what feels like the nth time today. "don't you dare fucking cum." seungmin growls when you clench down on him, leaving you begging wetly as your limp limbs give out on you. you're about to tether off the edge when he pulls out suddenly, laughing sadistically at your protests before pushing in once more to resume his actions. he repeats this over and over again, eventually filling you up but leaving you denied as punishment.

link two.

you've recently discovered your favourite way of making seungmin cum, and that's with your tits. it's especially on days when you can't be bothered to undress and get in the mood whilst your boyfriend is feeling insatiable that you'll resort to this, stripping out of your shirt and getting down on your knees in front of him. it doesn't take long after that to have seungmin's leaking cock snuggled between the valley of your chest, both your tits squeezing it in a soft hug as he groans with closed eyes. some days you don't even bother taking your bra off, using it as leverage for making sure his dick stays between your breasts. it's even more enjoyable for you despite not being able to cum, because the way seungmin becomes reduced to a whining mess through your actions fills you with pride. if you're feeling particularly like putting in the work, you'll wrap your lips around his tip just before he's about to cum, feeling it twitch against your tongue as your boyfriend empties himself in your mouth.

it's two in the afternoon when you find yourself giving seungmin his fourth titjob of the week. he's got you in front of him while he's seated on the couch, legs spread as his hard length stays encompassed between your chest which rubs itself up and down. despite being a mess of spit and precum, you're mesmerised by the way your boyfriend's aching red tip catches between your boobs, biting your lip before sneaking a glance up at his fucked out face. it's seldom you see him so desperate, but recently you've been blessed with the sounds of his airy moans more often, realising that this activity may have become his favourite way of getting off. "doing so good, puppy." you coo, not missing the way he twitches between your breasts at your words. his last straw is when you wrap your lips around his tip and suck slightly, a barely audible warning escaping him as he creams onto your awaiting tongue.

⥽ … YANG JEONGIN:   

link one.

jeongin is well-known for having large hands and slender fingers, his long digits always being the main reason behind your fascination with his body. you like the way they wrap around your waist or back, making you feel protected whenever your boyfriend is near you, especially when you're both out and you can feel other men staring at you. it reminds you you're his. it's in the way that they're so much bigger than yours too, easily being able to take both your hands in only one of them. something about it turns you on to no end, which is why you often find yourself with your hands pinned behind your back in one of jeongin's, a sinister smirk etched across his beautiful face as he fucks deep into you. he'll mock you for your little obsession, the way his voice is laced with condescension leaving you pooling wet around him which only makes him tsk and ram into you even harder. deep down though, you know he adores the way you're so easily pliant for him.

"innie! innie, please." you choke out into the pillow that's currently got your face stuffed in it thanks to your boyfriend, hearing him sneer at the way you try and move around under his hold. jeongin has both your arms gripped in just one of his hands behind your figure which is laying on your stomach, his movements quick yet deep with the way he rolls his hips to drive his cock into you. "like my hands, sweetheart? like them so much that you're dripping ever since i pinned them behind you, huh?" he mocks you, grunting as he speeds up his thrusts. the way he's drilling into you makes you see stars, and the dirty sound of skin slapping being the only thing resonating throughout the room besides your moans is all is takes for you to cum around him soon enough. you reach your peak with a wail of jeongin's name on your lips, clenching when you feel his fingers squeeze in below your body to flick at your swollen clit. "don't run, take it." jeongin growls, pushing your head into your sheets once more as you drool all over the comforter.

link two.

you're not sure when it started, but recently, having sex in the shower has become a reccuring occasion for you and jeongin. maybe it's the fact that you're both busy throughout the day and it saves time to engage and clean up together under running water simultaneously, or maybe it's because jeongin is just always looking to fuck you with his high sex drive, but it's definitely become a game changer for your relationship. you know he likes the way your tits are lathered with soap, bouncing from the frequency of his thrusts inside you as you lean a hand against the wall to support yourself. jeongin also always makes sure to steady his grip on you before fucking up into you under the warm stream coming out of your showerhead, groaning into your wet ear as he pulls you back by his large palm splayed across your hip. he likes the way your moans echo off the walls in the small bathroom you both share, always making sure he's giving it to you good regardless of where you both may be.

the splatter of water cascading down your bodies drags you out of your thoughts, a low noise rumbling from the back of your throat as you feel the heavy drag of your boyfriend's cock pushing in and out of you. he's got you arching your back, pulling you back on him every now and then in a way that makes his cockhead press up against that spot inside you deliciously. if you were in a hurry to go somewhere, you know you surely would've been late with the way you keep cumming and asking him for more, unable to satiate the spiking desire that's been burning through you since this morning when jeongin opened the door and asked if he could join you in rinsing off. "fuck, angel. not gonna last long." jeongin swallows, mouthing at your shoulder as you let your head fall back against him. "don't care. cum in me. cum inside, baby. please." you keen at a specifically harsh thrust, mewling when jeongin's thumb finds your engorged nub, rubbing it in quick circles to get you there at the same time. a scream rips out of you as the coil in your stomach eventually snaps, and you shudder as jeongin's seed spills warm inside you.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Falling Behind

Synopsis: The Prefect has ADHD and was medicated for it back in their old world, but when they go to Crowley for help getting a diagnosis here, he brushes them off. They proceed to struggle until finally breaking down. (+ Crewel basically steps up as a father figure)

TW: Pretty descriptive with the negative effects of The Prefect's ADHD, Talk of medication, The Prefect cries, Crowley says the usual things people who deny/downplay ADHD say, Crewel has the "Help me help you talk" with The Prefect, The Prefect cries and is overall just GOING THROUGH IT

NOTE: I went off of my experience as a person diagnosed with ADHD and medicated for it. My experience with it won't apply to everyone else with it, but rest assured this won't be a fic that portrays ADHD like a silly, goofy little quirk. (This is a pretty self-indulgent fic, tbh)

Many people who are diagnosed with ADHD and medicated accordingly have the thought cross their minds every once in a while of "Do I really need the medicine?" When you're on ADHD medication for long enough, you forget what it's like to not function at the level you do when taking it. The memories of the difficulty focusing can slip away with time and leave you doubting. You were no exception.

Key word is were.

When you got thrown into Twisted Wonderland you learned pretty quickly that the medicine in fact does help and that you in fact do need it.

But how would you even go about getting it here? You'd need a diagnosis and for that you'd need a psychiatrist and for that you'd need money (and an official identity which you did not have as an alien to this world).

You tried bringing it up to Crowley, but he brushed it off. He said the same lines you had heard 100 times before, many of which you found yourself thinking from time to time: "You just need to make yourself work. You're unmotivated." and, while he didn't say it out loud, you could clearly tell that what he was really saying was that you were lazy.

You suppose you should have expected as much. No headmage that gave two hoots about mental health would be running a school that has no student counselor.

After that interaction you had resigned yourself to the fact that you'd have to come to terms with being a student and doing schoolwork with no relief to your condition.

You tried your best, you really did. You sat at your desk for hours on end as you tried to finish a simple homework sheet, but hours passed with virtually no progress being made. You couldn't force yourself to focus. When you did your body protested. Your brain refused to allow a single proper thought to form and your eyes wouldn't focus. If you forced the issue further, it only got worse. Your brain and eyes felt somehow heavier than usual and sometimes you swore they were slowly liquifying to a goo in your skull.

You didn't bring it up to your friends. You felt weird talking about it with them. One too many times being told you were faking or doing it for attention you suppose.

Your grades began to slip. Deadlines popped up when you could have sworn you had more time. You made little mistakes you chastised yourself for. You knew the material. You knew you knew the material.

. . .so why were you messing up.

Assignments piled up and slipped through the cracks. It's not like your teachers could notice how out of character this was for you. They didn't know how well you typically functioned when medicated, and it's not like you told them about the disorder in the first place.

Each night you held back tears of frustration as you tried desperately to get any work done. You weren't one to cry easily. In fact, you hadn't cried since you got to Twisted Wonderland, and even before that it had been a while since you last allowed tears to drip from your eyes.

But everyone has a breaking point.

You had gotten so far behind on your assignments that it was decided you needed more than to simply stay in the classroom to work during lunch and you were put in after school tutoring (although it felt more like detention).

The first few weeks you managed to keep it together. You taped over the holes that chipped away into your composure and did your best to hold down the storm of emotions that thrashed violently inside of you.

Another day of after school tutoring came around. By now not even Grim was having to stay for these sessions. There were other students that were in them, but they were in a separate classroom. You knew what was happening even if nobody outright said it.

You sat in Crewel's empty classroom for the second week in a row. The clock on the wall ticked impossibly loud. Every sound around you was amplified tenfold and you could feel it wearing on you. Your arms shook in a sick combination of frustration and exhaustion as you tried in vain to get one question done.

You could feel the ugly jaws of your pent-up emotions gnashing away at your already tattered walls of composure.

Crewel sighed as you once again failed to answer the question: "Look, I really do want to help you, but in order for that to happen I need you to cooperate and listen to me. Right now, it feels like you aren't doing that."

You had had this conversation with him before; with all your teachers for that matter. You used to it. YOU WERE USED TO IT.

You chanted the phrase in your head over and over again.

"What do you not understand."

He didn't say it in a malicious way. He sounded genuine, just. . .exhausted.

He didn't know. He wasn't aware of the storm in your stomach slowly making its way to your eyes. He didn't know.

You don't blame him, but when he said those words you finally broke.

It wasn't anything grand or dramatic like you see in movies. A small catch of your breath in a short-lived attempt to hold it together and then tears. You choked on your sobs as you tried to quell them. The only thing worse than crying is crying in front of people.

Your knees curled up onto the bench, up to your chest, and you hugged them: trying to hide your face and muffle your sobs.

It was no use. Crewel already saw the tears.

He was momentarily stunned at how suddenly you seemed to break down and could only watch as your whole body shook with the sobs you were trying so desperately to hold in.

When he finally snapped out of it he was still unsure of what to do, so he did the only thing he could.

You felt his large, fluffy coat be draped over your shoulders before he somewhat awkwardly sat a comfortable distance away from you as he waited for you to calm down.

When your sobs finally quieted to small whimpers he apologized for making you cry.

You explained it wasn't his fault and, after a bit of silence, you explained to him what was wrong.

He sat with you and listened patiently as you told him about your ADHD, the trouble you'd been having since you got here, and finally recounted your interaction with Crowley.

He led you to the infirmary not far from his office, telling you he'd be back soon and to rest for the time being.

Luckily for Crewel, the headmage's office was just about as far away from the infirmary as it could be.

He could scream as loud as he wanted without disturbing you.

By the time he returned to the infirmary it was late. He was about to apologize for leaving you there so long but stopped himself.

There on the bed was your exhausted form curled up in his coat and sleeping peacefully.

The next day he asked you a few more questions, and the day after that, he accompanied you to the doctor's office. (you didn't bother asking how he managed to get you registered as an actual person)

You went through suspiciously less steps than you had back in your old world to get the diagnosis, but you just chalked it up to the fact that it was clear by your appearance that you had been going through it.

You got your medicine the same day. Wait. . .did Crewel just tell the pharmacist he was picking it up for his child?

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[enzosbabyangel]

Harry Potter characters and sugar daddies

✰ Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy

On the fourth day of christmas my true love sent to me, four thousand dollars | 12 days of christmas master list

og a/n: i made up a name for Harry’s daughter lmao. Remus was removed because i couldn’t come up with an idea for him and couldn’t imagine him as a sugar daddy, i will make up for it in the future thanks to my amazing friend @winnie1emon coming up with a cute idea <3 did i post this earlier then i was supposed to by accident? yes yes i did.

current a/n: This was originally made on my old blog as part of my ‘12 days of christmas’ event. This was all written like five months ago and i just re-posted onto here. i didn’t proofread anything lmao or remember what was in this or the Remus idea. still love @/winnielemon though 💞💞 format is also my old ugly one that i was too lazy to change lmfao

✰ Content warnings: nsfw, MINORS DNI, 18+, age gap, , reader in Harrys is a bit bitchy, cheating, reader is a half blood in Lucius’, you could imagine it as muggle or blood traitor if you’re a pureblood💞

✧ 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You used to be his daughter’s best friend, Giselle. You two were inseparable, meeting in college and becoming best friends. You constantly slept over at each other’s houses during weekends or holidays. You often attended dinner at the Potters as Giselle lived off-campus.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Another reason you were so willing to attend dinners at the Potters was because of… well… your best friend’s father.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Yep, the infamous Harry Potter. No, it wasn’t because of his popularity. It was because of his sheer talent in bed. Good at fingering you, eating you out, fucking you, fucking your tits, he made everything feel good and he was fucking talented.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Almost nothing could make you give up that man. Well, until you found out Giselle, your ‘best friend’ was spreading shit about you and stealing from you. You completely snapped, shouting and taking all your stuff back. Completely messing up her room in the process. ‘The bitch got what was coming.’ you thought to yourself.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Potters. Much to Harrys dismay,

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Please Y/N, just calm down. I’m sorry about what Giselle did but i’ll talk to her about it- tell her to give you some money… anything.” Harry practically begged as he lightly grabbed your arm to stop you. His eyes pleading as he looked down at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “No! i don’t want your money, just leave me alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance as you glanced behind you to Harry. Tugging your arm out of his grip you grabbed your coat off of the hanger, putting it on hurriedly. The buttons being messily done up to close it and keep you warm from the coldness outside.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Just as you finished doing your coat up, Harry spoke up before you could leave, “Hold on a second, please.” Quickly leaving the room as you were left to stand in the hallway of the front door. Your arms crossed as you rolled your eyes but decided to grant his wish, staying put.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And just about a minute later he came back, your eyes widening and mouth opening slightly as you looked at the two grand in his hands. You glanced up at him before back at the money. You knew what he was trying to imply. With raised brows you looked back up at him, a shocked look on your face, asking with a dumbfounded tone, “All of that is for.. me?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Harry didn’t say anything in return, just nodding as he looked at you with the same pleading eyes, mixed with a bit of shame. Evidently in his small smile.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And that leads to now. Harry slurping at your pussy, tongue flicking at your sensitive clit or exploring the inside of your tight walls as you rode his face. Holding onto the headboard for support as you looked down at Harrys messy hair that covered the pillow his head rested on. His glasses thrown on the bedside table. His hands resting along your waist as he ate your pussy as if it was his last meal.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your body was laced in sweat as your hips moved back and forth, his nose occasionally making a pang of delicious pleasure shoot through your body as you bit your cheek, moans falling from your mouth.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Shit..” You let out through a moan as your right hand moved down to grab a handful of Harrys hair. The movements of your hips becoming more speratic as you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A tug at Harrys hair had him groaning into your pussy, adding to pleasure you were feeling and a couple more flicks of his tongue to your clit made you finally cum. Hips stuttering as you slowly rode through your orgasm, loud moans filling the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you finally came down from your high, you plopped down onto the bed next to Harry, catching your breath as you sat, back resting against the headboard. You glanced down at Harry to see him wiping your arousal from his flushed face. His hand moving to grab his glasses off his bedside table as he sat up.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you caught your breath you sat back up, grabbing and putting your panties back on. While you did that Harry got some money from the bedside drawer and turning his body, tapping your shoulder.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You glanced over at him, soft smile forming on your face as you saw the one grand he had pulled out for you. You uttered a ‘thank you’ and took it from him, taking the money and placing it beside you as you moved to the edge of the bed. Picking up your oversized t-shirt and black booty shorts.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “So uh… i was just wondering… maybe you and i could go to the movies tomorrow? i remembered Giselle talking about how excited you were for… a um… that horror movie to come out.” Harry awkwardly spoke as he watched you get dressed again.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You put your knee high boots on, stopping for a slight second as his words sunk in. “Oh… i would love to but i have a tutor sesh tomorrow.” You said, a sheepish smile on your face as you finished buckling up your boots. Grabbing your bag with one hand. Placing the one grand inside. your bag you quickly made your way around the bed, placing a soft kiss to his cheek, “Maybe another time?” You suggested with a soft smile before quickly leaving the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You didn’t bother to hear what he said next. You didn’t want him pestering you on when that other time would be. You tried desperately to push Harry away if it wasn’t for sex, not because you’re a bitch… you were just conflicted with your growing feelings for Harry and keeping the secret that you have a boyfriend from him.

✧ 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You met Draco at a Fluorish and Blotts, where you were for a book signing. You payed him no mind at first, despite his not-so-subtle staring and smirk on his face, looking you up and down. The typical, rich, creep behaviour. The second you got your book signed you hurried off to the exit, but alass he still got to you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . What he did, unsurprisingly was try to charm his way into your pants. walking down the road with you as he pretended to be oh so interested in your interest of the writer you came to see today. Then interested in your time at Hogwarts, commenting on how he left fourteen years ago. It’s comedic how he didn’t realize that made everything ten times creepier. His continuous attempts at bringing you home failed each time.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Until, he offered you two thousand dollars. Who could blame you? you’re a twenty year old college student with a student loan. that two thousand can go a long way. So, he came home with you that night.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And now, a year later, he’s still paying you.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Fuck baby… s’your god damn pussys the best,” He let out through breathy moans. His hips slamming into you at an animalistic and somewhat impressive-for-his-age pace.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin as your nails scratched across his back. The pace of his thrusts prevented you from getting in a proper breath.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Such a slut… selling your body to some old man for money?” He commented with a smirk, arms lifting himself higher up above you so that he could stare down at you. “Don’t even need to pay off your student loan anymore and you still let me do what i want with you.” He continued on with a chuckle. “Do you just love me that much? or the money?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were being too fucked out to properly understand his words or form an answer as you just nodded, letting out little babbles in response. Draco just chuckled as he listened to your incoherent responses, finding pride in how he managed to leave you completely stupid with his dick.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your moans started becoming for frequent as you gradually drew closer to coming undone. Draco was too as his thrusts became sloppier and he continued to spew random, dirty words and thoughts at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You came first, clenching around him as your legs shook around his waist. Draco moaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, completely stopping his thrusts to soak in the feeling before pulling out, spurts of cum quickly landing on your stomach as you watched with eyes lazy with lust.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Draco plopped down beside you, and what happened after you don’t know as you quickly fell asleep.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When you woke up in the morning you had fresh pjs on and Draco was gone. You stretched in bed, the relief feeling good before you flopped back over on your side. Laying comfortably in your bed as you smiled slightly to yourself at the sheer comfort you felt. Your laziness didn’t stay though as you saw the large amount of cash on your desk, quickly sitting up and scooting over to the large stacks of cash. The total amount had to at least be around ten grand. Next to the cash was a small, ripped from a notebook peace of paper. You grabbed it and read it, wanting some type of explanation for the amount he gave you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ‘around fifteen grand here for you. why? well it’s been a year since we met. an unofficial anniversary ;)’

✧ 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius was a… special situation. Maybe not really a sugar daddy. The money he gave you was more… ‘keep quiet money’. Money given to you to make sure you kept your mouth shut about the fact he was cheating on his wife with a ‘disgusting’ half blood.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Maybe he did pay you for sex a bit, but majority of the money was to keep you quiet. He was ashamed of himself of course, tempted by a halfblood. But god, he couldn’t help it. The soft curve of your body, the way your beautiful H/T, H/C hair framed your face. The way the maid uniform fit you. The soft hum of your voice that he hears in the early hours of the morning while you’re preparing dinner. Everything about you was addictive, as if you were trying to seduce him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were so addictive, in fact, that he’ll pull you into his office and take you right then and there,

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Ah-! Sir-“ You managed to get out through laboured breaths as you desperately gripped at the edge of the desk you were bent over. Your body jolting upwards with every thrust of his hips.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A harsh slap pained your ass as you let out a mix of a gasp and a moan. “Silence,” was all Lucius let out as his hand tangled in your hair and pulled. He used you as if you were a mere sex toy to him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius set his hand down on the free bit of desk next to you, leaning forward as he spoke, his tone cold and degrading. “What a filthy excuse of a woman, letting a man in a marriage use you as they please.” A slap to your ass, his tone turning slightly more amused as he continued. “And tempting a man in a marriage at that.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You only shook your head at his words, your eyes squeezing shut as your moans made your attempts at speaking fail, unable to vocally deny his words. You simply accepted the words as you let your head drop forward, you could tell that he was getting close when his grip on your hair tightened and his thrusts sped up in urgency.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When he did cum he immediately pulled out, his cum spurting onto your bare back and ass. Some reaching your uniform where it was bunched up at your waist.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After his high he simply stuffed himself back in his pants, straightening up his appearance. He picked you up by your arm and pulled you up, just to drop you on the floor. He quickly reorganized his desk, that was already quite neat before he fucked you on it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “You can stay in here and… please yourself if you must.” Lucius spoke as he rummaged through his wallet. adding two grand in ‘keep quiet’ money on top of the five hundred ‘let me fuck you’ money. He didn’t even spare you a glanced as he closed up his wallet and placed it back into his pocket, maneuvering his way around you and his desk.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “I’ll lock the door so that nobody can walk in. You have spare keys to this room to get out if i’m correct?” He asked with a raised brow, eyeing you as he watched you clumsily get up, not uttering a word. You nodded in response to his words, causing him to just slightly smile.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Good.” he spoke before turning and leaving the room. You stood awkwardly as you listened to the lock of the door and the slowly disappearing sound of footsteps. Feeling a mix of shame and guilt, though the feeling was quickly replaced with acceptance as your gaze dropped from the door to the two grand and five hundred on the table.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Well, a girls gotta do what she’s gotta do.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by ankoluvly, december 2024 on tumblr. Do not republish on ANYTHING ©

tags: @screamingoverfiction @nofingjustaninchident @willowlovestheweasleys @manesuaves @pizzaapeteer(idk if you want to be tagged but i remember you saying you were excited for these. just tell me if you don’t want to be !)