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mochatsin · 14 days

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When MC Gets Pushed Off the Stairs

You can be the kindest person or the biggest brat this exchange program has ever seen, but it won’t erase the fact that you have enemies. Some demons just can’t stand the idea of a human earning the favor of the seven avatars… and there are others that plan on doing something about it.

TW: implied bullying, falling down the stairs, sprained ankle + MC in a cast, violence, demon brothers being a bit more sinister.

I was in the mood for a bunch of dark and spiteful demons. I might make a separate part of them taking care of MC during the times they have a cast.

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“Who do they think they are? They probably feel invincible when they have those brothers stuck to their hip.”

You tried ignoring the rumors and whispers, you knew it wasn’t true so there wasn't any reason for you to bring this up with anyone. Though there were a bunch of demons, specifically these two girls, that are quite irritating. They definitely knew you could hear them, but that doesn’t mean they’ll lower their voices whenever they start talking about you. Seeing your discomfort is what even encourages them to keep talking, and you’re walking down the stairs to your next class so you can avoid them because there’s no way you’re gonna give them that satisfaction of seeing how bothered you are.

“Invincible? As if! They’re just a human.” The other mocks, looking at you with disgust.

“Let’s find out.” Is the last thing you hear before you feel someone’s heel push your back, making you lose your balance and fall over. It was a blur after that, until he came by…

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Lucifer

Students are crowding the stairwell, and Lucifer can feel the annoyance already blooming. A crowd like this usually means trouble, and he wonders if Mammon is trying to place bets in secret again. It won’t be the first time he catches his brother discreetly collecting gambling money after convincing other students to bet on something stupid, so Lucifer isn’t going to be surprised if his initial thought was right as he pushes through to see the commotion.

That’s when Lucifer desperately wished he was right as soon as he saw you on the ground. Two demons on top of the stairs laughed and mocked you, but the moment Lucifer stepped in the scene they immediately shut their mouths out of fear and so did the crowd of students around you. He can piece the scene together and understand what happened, but he needs to hear from you first.

He kneels down to your level to check up on you. You’re not unconscious and that’s great, though you seemed pretty shaken up. Falling down the stairs and having several students stare at you wasn’t pleasant after all. “Come, let’s discuss what happened in the student council room.” Lucifer offers, since the last thing you need is to be the center of attention and he knows it won’t be a good idea to let you stay here longer.

He helps you stand, but you stumble and cling onto him for support. Your foot… it hurts so much that putting pressure on it sent jolts of burning pain that almost made you scream. You’re trying to be strong despite the pain, you can’t show weakness in front of Lucifer who’s relying on you to represent humans. What kind of image are you showing them? That you’re fragile and weak? It’s all getting overwhelming and Lucifer can see you’re already at your limit.

He turns to the two demons on the top of the stairs and glares at them. The temperature drastically dropped, breathing felt so heavy all of a sudden, and there’s this feeling of dread that paralyzed not only the two but also everyone around them. Trying to run away wasn’t an option, the two girls knew it would just make things worse for them.

“I expect to see the both of you in the council room at the end of the day. Or else.” There’s no negotiations, and opening their mouths to protest is already a defiance to Lucifer’s orders. He’s already quite strict on his brothers, what more to a pair of demons that doesn’t seem to understand that there are consequences to their actions? “Everyone, get back to your classes.”

Once everyone has finally left you both alone, Lucifer carries you in his arms. There’s no way he’s letting you limp to the infirmary in this state. He checks your ankle and sighs when he realizes it’s sprained. You thought at first that he’s stressed because you getting hurt meant more work for him, but the worried look on his face shows that it’s not about that.

You’ve been so strong for doing so much here like helping Lucifer manage all of his brothers while still doing your duties as a student, trying to keep up a good impression enough for Diavolo’s exchange program. Now seeing you hurt with a swollen ankle is making Lucifer rethink his views. It’s not pity that’s written on his face, it's… something else entirely.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all… but maybe it’s time that we take care of you, little lamb.” Lucifer says. It’s an understatement to say that you’re dependable because you’re much more than that to him. He wonders how he even managed to get by with his brothers before you came into their lives. You’ve been so reliable, Lucifer almost forgets that you’re also fragile. You’ve done too much, you deserve a break and be pampered. It’s exactly what he does now that you’ve got a cast on your foot.

Lucifer doesn’t like seeing you with those crutches, it doesn’t sit right with him when someone like you is suffering from something as basic as going up the stairs. He starts making a proposal about making RAD more accessible for students by adding elevators or magical levitating platforms. While it’s a good idea on its own, you can tell that they had this plan so that you don’t have to suffer through the stairs anymore. Everyone else immediately agreed to the proposal without second thought.

Lucifer had the two demons apologize to you, and he doesn’t care whether they bruise their skin or get covered in dirt, they will be doing it properly. To beg on their hands and knees, bowing down until their foreheads touch the floor. He won’t let them up until they actually feel genuinely sorry, he doesn’t care how many students will be staring at their pathetic displays. He’s almost tempted to dig his heels into the back of their skulls should they lift their heads for even a single inch from the ground.

He’ll chip away at their pride that led them to hurting you, finding a way to humiliate them in every subtle way until they’re the ones cowering their head. Lucifer would make subtle comments each time their paths would cross, always looking for a single flow that he would call them out for under the pretense of how it’s unbefitting as a student of RAD. It’s so harsh that the brothers almost felt sorry for them. Is it petty? Perhaps it is. But he doesn’t feel guilty at all when they actively chose to hurt you, and maybe he’ll stop once your ankle is all better.

Mammon

You two were together but then he said had somewhere he needed to be. Mammon was supposed to meet up with you before classes, he just needs to talk to some people he owed a few grimm to and possibly ask for another deadline extension. He’s turning to every corner trying to make sure Lucifer won’t spot him counting his debt, though he did notice the crowd that was forming a few meters away.

He didn’t give it much thought at first, but that’s until he heard the whispers of students walking towards the scene. ‘It’s that human exchange that fell’ ‘fell? They were pushed, weren't they?’ And that’s when Mammon starts to sprint, honestly hoping that it was Solomon and not you that they were talking about.

“Outta the way dammit!” Is all you hear, with a few grunts from students getting forcibly shoved to the side before Mammon finally finds you on the floor clutching your ankle. He squats next to you to check the damage, and you can tell from the expression on his face that it doesn’t look good at all.

He looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons snickering at each other before running away from the scene. Mammon recognizes them, he’s heard some of the nasty stuff they’ve said about this exchange program, and especially about you. It just never occurred to him that they’d do something this drastic when given the chance. Mammon was gone for ten minutes and that was enough time to hurt you.

He wanted to run after them, force the two to apologize to you. To make them pay. Though the wince and cries from you are what makes Mammon think with a clear head. You tell him that your ankle is hurting, you can’t move it as much without any pain. So he carries you and makes a run for it to the infirmary. No ambulance compares to how quickly Mammon ran just to get you some help.

Mammon stays by your side, too afraid to leave you for another second after what happened. He stares as they patch up your ankle and you’ll be in crutches until it heals. He’s mad, but definitely not at you. He’s angry that this happened under his watch when he’s supposed to be making sure you’re safe from demons like those. That was a role entrusted to him and he already feels like he failed.

“Ya aint leavin’ my sight, not until that ankle of yours is back in shape aight?” And he meant every word. If he’s not glued to your hip, then you swear you can see a three-eyed crow that’s following you around wherever you go. You just feed it some snacks if you have some when you can, and you wake up with shiny trinkets by your desk the next day.

Mammon is ready to be at your beck and call anytime you need it. You let out a grunt of frustration if you dropped your bag and spilled all your belongings. Your sprained ankle makes it hard for you to bend over to get them, but the moment you turn your head, Mammon is already at your feet grabbing you everything. If it weren’t for the circumstances (like your injury), Belphie would probably exploit this and make his older brother do everything while pretending you asked for it.

The two girls have noticed how much those crows have been following them around. Crows can hold grudges, and they definitely recognize the demons that hurt the human they (and their master) care about.

It started off as something harmless as landing on their desks, squawking at them, or stealing their pens before an important exam. Though when Mammon noticed them occasionally mocking you behind your back for that cast once you came back to RAD, the crows became more aggressive. The birds pulled on their hair, pecked and bit on their skin, clawing at them whenever they could.

Desperate for this madness to stop, the demons are already by Mammon’s feet begging for the crows to leave them alone. Personally, Mammon would’ve done something much worse but there was no way he’s going to abandon you for a second with that cast. “I’m feeling quite generous, so if ya hear me out on my conditions i’ll let you off the hook yeah?”

In exchange for finally getting some peace from those crows, the demons agreed to two conditions. One, never to lay a hand on you ever again unless they want the risk of the birds invading their homes. No more mocking or even looking at you with malice. Two, pay Mammon every month. By the time that you got that cast removed, Mammon has paid off some debt from his classmates and he’s quite proud of it. At least he could take care of you and save some coin at the time. No one said it had to be his money right?

Levi

Levi didn’t spend lunch with any of his brothers or classmates as usual today. He likes spending his free time alone in isolated places like the school garden, empty classrooms, or even the rooftop so he could play his games or watch his anime in peace. Socializing with too many people is overwhelming, this is his own way of recharging to get through the rest of the day.

Though there are rare instances that Levi would ask you to join him in his little hideouts, because you’re one of the people he doesn’t feel too draining to be around. He planned to share some of the snacks he bought for the both of you, but he saw that you were talking with his other brothers at the cafeteria. Feeling dejected, he decided to spend the lunch alone as usual and wait for the class. There’s no way you would want to spend time with someone who’d rather play gacha games on his phone for lunch…

He was hiding by the corners of the stairwell to play his game when he overheard two demons talking so badly about you, followed by hurried footsteps and then a heavy thump at the end of the stairs. Then he heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and it’s when he realized that you were pushed off the stairs. He saw your body on the floor, trying to recover from the fall and he felt like his world was crashing in on him. He’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do without making things worse.

You turned around and found him hiding behind the stairwell, eyes locked for a moment that felt like an eternity to the demon. That’s when Levi realized he can’t just stand there idly when his player two is injured. Despite the anxiety, he ran to your side anyway to check on you. His face went so pale when he saw you clenching your ankle, the pain evident in your expression. “I-i’ve got you just… dammit what do i d-do…?!” He mumbles the last part, because he knows this isn’t a game where it takes one button to heal you back. No saved file to help him now.

Levi looks up at the stairs and sees the two demons glaring at the both of you. Out of all the brothers, they would never take Levi seriously. To them, he’s just some demon who dedicated his life to a world of fiction and seeing him fumble right now just proves it. They say that Levi just lacks any real skill to even help you before they left.

He hates to admit that those two are right, and that makes him loathe himself even more. Levi almost went down on a spiral, but that’s until he felt a phone get placed on his hand. He turns to meet your gaze, you handed him his D.D.D. and he knew what you were asking him to do. Levi quickly dials for his brothers and help came to you after a minute of doing so. He’s thankful for their quick responses, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if a crowd started forming around you both.

Everyone of them was huddled outside the infirmary while you were getting patched up, and Levi explained what he witnessed. Though he starts going into his self-destructive speech patterns at how he could hardly do anything to help you by himself that he needed to get his brothers to do it for him. He felt so useless to you, but Lucifer interjects. “It’s natural to panic. But if you did not call for us, then they would’ve been in pain for much longer.”

That helped Levi feel a little bit grounded hearing reassurances from his brothers. Lucifer then tasked Levi to be the one in charge of taking care of you during school days. Since Levi also takes his classes online, then he can watch over you while you’re resting in the house. You both can take online classes together while you recover from your injury.

Levi spends most of the time in your room instead because there’s no way he’s making you go up those stairs to his room, and he doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt or slipping if you try to get in his bathtub. As clumsy as he could be, Levi did his best to take care of you. He did want to spend some time alone with you, but he wished it didn’t take a sprained ankle to get what he wanted.

“I-if only this healing item exists, it would’ve been really handy right now…” He says as you both play a two-player game, the demon staring longingly at the recovery potions on the screen and wishing it could take away your pain right now. Levi often wonders… maybe if he didn’t sulk from the jealousy, if he actually asked you that day to go spend lunch with him, then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this.

Levi was watching some anime while you slept, and he saw the bullies on the anime picking on the innocent main protagonist. The scene just reminds him of what happened to you, and that brings him this sense of rage and justice. It was unfair what those two girls did to you, and Levi doesn’t think it’s right that he does nothing about this (assuming that his brothers haven't gotten to them first).

The girls found all their accounts hacked. From Devilgram to their bank accounts. Their emails and passwords were changed overnight so they couldn’t figure out how to get it back, and if by some miracle they recovered their accounts, everything was already wiped clean by then. Levi may not be the most confrontational brother, but he’s the best behind the screen. He’s chugging his third energy drink as he thinks of new ways to plant a virus in their D.D.D.’s when he goes to school at the end of the week to hand over both of your homeworks.

When Levi overheard the girls still talking about you during break, they found all their stuff completely drenched and ruined by the time they came back to their seats even though the classroom remained dry. Gadgets were water damaged, and schoolwork that they were supposed to be submitting later is already long gone. Even their lockers were stuffed with sand and sea water, spilling all over their uniforms as soon as they opened it. The teachers scolded them for the mess they ‘created’ no matter the protests that they never did, but who would believe them if they said it was Levi’s doing? The girls never uttered your name again.

Satan

The teacher assigned you both as partners for a class project due next week, and Satan suggested that it’s best to get a head start on it while your schedules are free. You babysit all of his brothers every day, so Satan expects that your days are going to be quite busy if any of them knew you had a bit of free time to spare. At least his plans are something productive, he gets to spend time with you while also finishing some homework together.

It’s ten minutes past the agreed time you both were supposed to meet. Satan is outside the school library, tapping his foot on the floor as he messaged you but receiving no response. He knows he could’ve gone ahead to do some research to pass the time, but the point of this study date was to do the project together. It’s never like you to be late without any notice, so he sets out to look for you.

Satan is walking swiftly, wondering if you were still at the cafeteria. He dials your number to try to call you during his search, and he stops in his tracks when finds your phone on the ground, the screen cracked. It brought alarms in his head and he picked it up to figure out where you must’ve dropped it. It wasn’t hard because he soon spotted the crowd of demons by the stairway nearby. He could immediately guess what happened as he ran to the crowd, and he’s shocked when finally sees that you were the source of commotion.

He doesn’t care how many students he shoved just to get to your side. Seeing you on the ground in pain already warrants an emergency. Satan guessed your phone flew out of your hand when you fell. “What happened to you?! Where does it hurt?!” Satan asks, pulling you close in his arms and checking what’s causing you pain. He sees your ankle swelling slightly, and he’s trying to deduce what he can do to help after reading all of those human health care books just for you.

Though the laughter he’s hearing from the distance is annoying and distracting. Satan glances up and spots the two girls fleeing the scene, looking so proud of themselves. When he realizes what happened to you, his anger is already bubbling through the surface that it’s almost hard to contain. The pained expression on your face doesn’t help, the only reason he hasn’t fully transformed into his demon form is that he doesn’t want to draw more attention or hurt you more than you already are.

The way these students crowded around you like vultures to a feast is making Satan frustrated at each and everyone of them. How could they just stand there and watch while you were in pain? And those two girls, he will make sure to burn their faces into his memory for later. You could practically feel the heat of his wrath radiating from your pact and it’s making your body hurt more. Satan realized that his temper right now could be causing you more pain, so he focuses his thoughts into getting you some help instead of the anger that wants to burn everything and everyone around you.

“Calm down… just calm down…” he mutters over and over while he gently scoops you into his arms, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. Satan is careful when carrying you so he can take you to the infirmary, and all the students parted like the red sea when Satan shot glares at them, quickly scattering like rats while the two of you disappeared into the infirmary.

His eyebrows are furrowed the entire time as he waits for you to get patched up. His brothers have already arrived after they heard what happened, though they could sense that the fourth born is already on edge like a ticking time bomb. He’s quiet not because there’s nothing to say, but because he’s trying to hatch a plan. Something like this shouldnt go unpunished…

Satan is glad for his position in the student council because it meant that he could access some files from RAD. What does he do best? Studying and gathering as much information as he could. He looks for any detention notices until he finds the names and faces of the two girls that hurt you. A smile spreads across his face, though it was nothing pleasant. Like he just found his new prey.

He just needs to wait for that detention day, patience is the key to success. So for now he’ll focus on taking care of you. Satan pays more attention to you, always attentive to your needs. He brings you notes from any classes that you’ve missed during your recovery, and you heard from one of the brothers that they’re all trying to rack up money for a better phone since yours broke. you do admit that you feel bad for all the extra work he puts up for your sake, especially since Satan even had to do most of the project that you both were originally supposed to do together in the first place if it weren’t for the incident.

“You’re speaking nonsense. I don’t mind putting in more effort just for you, all you need to do is to recover. I’ll consider that as my thanks.” Satan would bring you books in bed or make you some coffee topped with some latte art just so you wouldn’t feel so bored. You can’t go to cafes or libraries with him like you both used to, so Satan will do everything with you in the comforts of your room.

Satan counted the days until it was time. He assigns another brother to watch over you. Asmo pretends not to hear the sound of the main door closing in the middle of the night, distracting you with something pretty he recently bought. The next school day rolls around and everyone is lucky you’re still in bed rest when the news broke out. Two students were found unconscious on the stairs in an awful state. Normally, falling down a flight of stairs doesn’t do much damage to a demon as much as it can to humans. And yet the bones in their legs were absolutely shattered…

None of the brothers were honestly too bothered to tell you the events that transpired, mostly because they knew the culprit. Satan would rather that you focus your energy on recovering. The only news that Satan told you was that you both got a perfect mark on the project you both worked on in the comforts of your room, but he doesn’t bring up what happened to those two demons. You only found out when Solomon accidentally told you during his visits.

Asmo

There’s only a few minutes left before the next bell would ring, so Asmo makes sure to retouch his makeup in the school’s bathroom just as he usually does. He dedicates twenty minutes of his daily time making sure that he looks absolutely perfect, so he could bless the eyes of those who pass by to bear witness of his beauty. At least, that’s what he always tells you whenever he leaves.

Just a bit of blush here and there to match his eye shadow, and Asmo has this proud smile on his face when he’s sure that he looks absolutely spotless. He wanted to bring you along to his little pre-class make up routines, and maybe next time he’ll hear that sweet ‘yes’ from you when he asks. Just thinking about you is making him giddy, so Asmo packed up his pouch and tried to look for you.

It didn’t take him long because as soon as he opened the bathroom door, he spotted a few students by the stairs. Asmo finds it unusual because what could be so important that he’s not the center of attention? Regardless, he’s intrigued enough to investigate the source and he’s horrified to see you down the stairs, clutching your ankle.

If it wasn’t you, then it was Asmo’s shriek that probably drew more attention to the scene. He’s quickly running to your side and checks if you hit your pretty little face anywhere. “Darling, that must’ve been a nasty fall! I would hate it if you got any bruises anywhere on that perfect skin of yours.” Asmo whines as he helps you sit up to give you more support, wrapping an arm around your waist.

When he did so, he heard a scoff and finally turned his attention to the top of the stairs where the two girls looked at you with disgust. He recognizes one of them from his fanclubs, a girl that often tried to get his attention. The facial expressions and body language says all he needs to know, he’s seen this look before. Someone like you being held by Asmo is a major offense to her eyes. The two demons storm off before Asmo could say anything.

Asmo pursed his lips together in frustration before he turned to all the students crowding around you. For once, he hated this attention you’re getting and he sees how much you’re getting shaken by this. “Scram.” Asmo said with enchanted glowing eyes, watching as they all obeyed his command. He then turns to you and wraps your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. “Come on, let’s get that treated or Lucifer will kill me!” Asmo says to try lighten the mood, though it doesn’t hide the bloodlust in his eyes.

He doesn’t like sweating when he just retouched his makeup, but he can’t even bring himself to think about that now whenever he hears the pained whimpers from you everytime you struggle to take a step. The brother’s eventually arrive to find Asmo outside the Infirmary, scrolling through his phone. Looking closely, he’s actually stalking the profile of the demon he saw earlier and there’s a sinister smile on his face whenever he learns something new about his target. The smile was enough to creep Levi out.

Asmo is always checking up on you when you’re at home recovering, trying to cheer you up whenever he has the chance. It’s gotten to the point he lessened his time clubbing or going to malls just so he could stay with you. “When you’re out of that cast, there will be a special bath full of rose petals with your name written all over it.” Asmo does his best to pamper you whenever he can, knowing how hard it must be to have that cast. It’s truly awful when these sorts of things have to happen to you when you both just bought some matching shoes together! He decides not to wear it yet until your foot gets better.

While you were gone, Asmo did what does best. Gossip. He started giving that other demon attention like she always wanted, whispering and suggesting things in her ear. About how that other demon, her friend, was saying disgusting things behind her back and Asmo is only telling her this to ‘look out’ for her sake. He relishes in her angered expression, knowing he now has her wrapped around his finger like a puppet and all he needed to do was sit back to watch the show.

Each day he found himself feeling excited to go to school just to see how those two would hurt each other this time. It started as something petty with his fan constantly bumping into what she used to consider as a friend, feigning ignorance whenever she’s confronted. Of course, she retaliated back until their silent arguments full of passive-aggressiveness turned into something more violent and hostile. It started from mean notes to death threats until they can’t even stand being in the same room without trying to claw out each other’s eyes. All because of Asmo’s pretty words.

There are times teachers are called to intervene because two girls began fighting in the hallways, screaming profanities while pulling at the other’s hair or horns. Whenever the drama dies down, Asmo would go back to add more fuel to the fire just to watch them burn. He tells his dedicated fan more lies just to enable that rage, spreading a rumor or two around the campus to make it sound reliable. He loves having that charm that captivates and charms, especially someone as gullible as this demon who’d listen to anything he says.

News was no longer about your recent incident, it was now about how the two demons fought so badly that they fell over the stair railings from the top floor all the way down. Given the severity of the injuries they’ve given each other from the week alone, they had no choice but to be suspended until the student council decides what to do with them.

Of course, the brothers knew Asmo pulled the strings, seeing that smile on his face whenever the two girls would try to tear each other apart made it so obvious. Not only was it easy and entertaining, but it kept his nails clean too. It’s not like he broke a rule right? They both did this to themselves. “I can’t wait to tell my darling what happened~!” Asmo hums excitedly on his way home to you.

Beel

Lunch time is definitely Beel’s favorite part of the day (and the lunch lady's worst nightmare). He’s golfing down as much food as he could since he’s been so hungry from his last class which was Magical Potions. Whenever his hunger starts to act up, it’s already a struggle not to eat the ingredients to alleviate it, knowing his teacher would scold him just like last time when he chowed down the entire jar of shadow salamander tails.

He’s lucky whenever you both are paired up together, since you bring him some candies to alleviate his hunger enough for him to focus again. You were his lifesaver. Just the thought of you makes Beel wonder where you were. He went ahead today because you said you needed to see Satan to discuss a project, and you were taking quite a while. He’s had food saved up for you and it’s getting harder for Beel not to eat your share, plus it’s always better when you both eat together.

The last straw was when he saw Satan in the cafeteria and when he asked the blonde where you were, the fourth born said he couldn’t find you. Beel grabs a few snacks to keep his stomach going when he searches for you. Normally it’s hard to convince Beel to leave the cafeteria during lunch break, but you’re that important for him to abandon the heaping food on his table. He was trained as an angel to be ready for any sort of disaster, and his gut is telling him that something is definitely wrong. He only confirmed it when he was walking down the stairs and saw everything.

Two girls were laughing and mocking the human he’s grown to love and care for, and when he found you on the bottom of the stairs after a fall, Beel was seeing red. He doesn’t hesitate to slam his fist against the wall and demand silence, because there was no way he was going to let them insult you any further. The two demons saw him and stiffened, quickly running away from the scene to avoid getting caught. The girls knew that Beel would crack their skulls open like he did to that wall if he got his hands on them.

Beel normally would’ve gone after them, but seeing how you’re struggling to get up on your own is what changed his mind and ran to you instead. He doesn’t even get to run all the way, at some point Beel jumps down the last flight of stairs just to reach you quicker. “Tell me if it hurts…” Beel whispers as he tries to help you up. You winced from the pain, and he decided to effortlessly carry you all the way to the infirmary because he would never make you limp this entire trip and deal with the ache. He’s a big demon, and lots of people find him terrifying when aggravated. And yet he’s so gentle when it comes to you.

Being a fangol player, Beel knows what it’s like to hurt yourself. He’s had Lucifer and Mammon help him back to the house after one intense match against the opposing team. The difference is that he could heal a bit more quickly compared to your fragile human body. What normally takes days for his body to regenerate could last months for you. He’s being careful when he carries you to the infirmary, holding you close like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held and he might be right at this point when he watches the nurses patch you up.

Beel is pacing so much outside the infirmary that his twin had to calm him down before he would drill a hole in the middle of the halls, his head is thinking about all of the what-ifs. Luckily you weren’t critical, save for the sprained ankle, but there’s this guilt on his face when he looks through the window and sees your cast. Maybe he should’ve been with you when you went looking for Satan so that he would have protected you, but what’s done is done now. So he focuses on taking care of you and reminding you that you could always rely on him for help.

He brings you some of your favorite treats whenever he comes home from RAD so you both could eat together. At some point, he heard from Solomon that milk is the key for humans to have stronger bones. You tried not to laugh when Beel got a galon just for you, innocently thinking that it would’ve helped you out with your injury if you drank all of it.

Beel is too nice for a demon, he might be the kindest of the seven brothers. But there’s been this tension around the orange haired demon whenever he’s sharing a class with the two girls that pushed you down those stairs. There's this hardly contained rage and blood lust, so a lot of students avoided mentioning what happened to you around him unless they want to get caught in the crossfire.

Beel finds it frustrating whenever he feels that he can't do anything about this rage. Watching you limp around in crutches around the house while those girls were striding down the halls without a care, it wasn't fair. It’s taking all his willpower not to just throw them out of the window for what they did to you. He broke several pens whenever he's too angry during class that Satan had to lend him some of his own. He feels this loss of appetite now that you’re not around to share food with him, and whenever he would remember the incident he would bend the metal of his fork, shaping it effortlessly like it’s clay. It’s a matter of concern for the brothers now.

Belphie took his twin out to the gym so Beel could let his frustrations through workouts. He may have destroyed two punching bags, but it was enough to bring down that anger to a safer level now. And during all that, Beel finally confided in his twin. About how he saw those girls mock you, and this innate urge to just see them suffer but it’s impossible to do that without destroying everything in his path. He would get in a lot of trouble, and he knows that would upset you instead.

“It’s just unfair, you know that they didn’t deserve that…” Just because he was nice doesn’t mean he wasn’t vengeful, but he’s at a loss of what he could do that wouldn’t result in another property damage bill sitting on Lucifer’s desk. Belphie can just sense how his Beel is itching for a bit of revenge, and who is he to deny what his twin wants?

For Magical Potions, Beel had to partner up with Satan and Belphie since you’ll be absent for the time being. They had the perfect plan, all Satan needed was a good sleight of hand to drop something in their cauldron when he walks by. Given that these two love pulling pranks on Lucifer specifically, they took a page out of their book of schemes for new targets.

Maybe his brothers forgot to consider that these two demons do not have the same kind of strength or resistance that the eldest had… or they both did this on purpose. Adding hellfire frog legs into the girl’s cauldron during Magical Potions class was actually more explosive than they expected, resulting in awful burns on their skin and hair. Beel’s priority is to take care of you everyday so he didn’t have much time to relish in this side of his that wants to wreak havoc, but he admits that seeing your bullies in pain like this is actually fun. It’s almost as satisfying as those ten stack pancakes he had two days ago… ah great, now he’s getting hungry again.

Beel is coming home to you with a box of your favorite treats. You wanted to try those new batch of sweets from Madame Scream but the brothers kept you in bed rest due to your ankle, so Beel went out of the trouble to get them for you. It took a lot of willpower not to eat a single one on the way back which deserves praise. You’ve been feeding him so many snacks during class to help him focus, this is his way of returning the favor to you.

He doesn’t bring up what happened during potions class with the girls that pushed you, and he honestly didn’t feel the need to do so since they weren’t important as you are to him. He’s too busy trying to feed you some yummy snacks to even think about that. You only hear about what happened through his twin who was grinning from ear to ear when he recalls the boils and burnt hair. “Well, it’s their fault for not checking their cauldron. They’re not smart and careful like you.”

Belphie

Belphie found a perfect spot to sleep around RAD where he’s sure Lucifer won’t spot him yet. It’s hidden in the school gardens, a nice secluded area with a small bench surrounded by bushes that would surely keep him out of sight. He’s been slowly putting pillows and blankets he’s brought so that it becomes a little slumber haven for him, and Belphie feels that he’s ready to show you his secret spot. He’d never tell his brothers because he wants to have at least a few minutes alone with you every weekday.

The problem with that plan is that Belphie can’t even find you. He’s already at the verge of passing out from the exhaustion of trying to keep himself awake in his search for you. Lunch in school is normally his nap time allowance, but he really did want to show you this secret hide out so that you both could enjoy it together.

He runs into his twin who was also looking for you, so it’s better they just stuck together right? Belphie had plans to show Beel anyways once this was done with. They passed by a corner to go upstairs in case you were already in the classroom, and that’s when they both saw you at the bottom of the stairs where those two girls were laughing at you.

Belphie didn’t know what came over him, but his body could hardly move when he saw you like that. It’s bringing him a lot of bad memories of choices he came to regret until this day, remembering the things he did to you when he threw your body down the stairs. He wanted to forget that, but seeing this whole situation is making that memory repeat in his head. Like the guilt is creeping back to him, and he froze in place not knowing what to do other than to relive the moment.

Beel grabbed Belphie by the wrist to snap him out of the trance, reminding the youngest that you need some help. The twins came by your side, hoisting your arms over their shoulders to help you in the infirmary. The two girls were already long gone while Belphie was in a frozen state, and Beel would’ve gone after them if not for his twin and you because his family always comes first.

The one thing that’s comforting Belphie right now is the fact that you’re still alive and breathing, though it can only do so much. He doesn’t like seeing you in pain like this, so he offers a spell so you could sleep through it while the nurse from the infirmary patches you up. He’s quiet the entire time when he watches you rest, Beel tries to talk to his twin about it but he refuses to let his problems known. It’s not like it was hard to guess, Beel can tell what’s bothering his twin but doesn’t mention it.

Belphie has been taking naps by your side whenever possible, sleeping in your room and making sure to give you sweet dreams each time you start falling asleep. Though he himself couldn’t sleep. Each time he tries to get some shut eye with you, he ends up reliving that day when they found you at the bottom of the stairs. The way those girls mocked you was unforgivable, and he hates how it’s hitting too close to home. Whenever he wakes up, he checks on your pulse while you’re asleep and sighs in relief every time he feels your heart beat. Like it’s the only thing that can calm him down.

By the time he woke up from his third nightmare, Belphie had enough. If he wants to feel at peace again, then he needs to get rid of the source of the problem. It wasn’t fair that you’re suffering like this, he hates seeing the empty seat next to him in class knowing that you’re supposed to be there instead of staying at home with that cast. Lucifer told him that they’ll be dealing with the matters soon, but Belphie had no intention of listening to them in the first place.

Belphie has been gradually giving the two girls nightmares, and each night they progressively get worse. From using their phobias against them to waking up from a gorefest nightmare in the middle of the night. It costs them sleep, and Belphie thinks it’s the perfect piece of karma whenever he sees the bags under their eyes getting darker each day. Hair and clothes started to look more haphazard when there’s barely any energy to keep themselves up.

Whenever Belphie shares a class with them, he pulls a little bit of magic to make them fall asleep during class until they get into a lot of trouble. He loves doing this when there are important tests and activities so they’d miss it and fail. No amount of coffee helps keep them awake during the day while the nightmares plague their sleep. The constant fatigue and the lack of sleep is starting to get to them, and Belphie has been observing everything. Movements were more sluggish and alertness has gone below the baseline. Just exactly what Belphie was waiting for.

It’s a simple plan that leads to the least amount of struggling and effort needed, because all it took was one shove for them to tumble out of the railings and down several flights of stairs. When they’ve finally stopped rolling against the stairs, they hear Belphie’s heavy footsteps as he walks down to their level until he’s stepping on one of them with the heel of his foot. He’d compare them to bugs, but that would be insulting to all insects.

“You know, I had a lot of plans with them that day… I don’t like it when people, even my brothers, decide to ruin them.” His love for you and spoiled attitude is what’s fueling his anger right now, so he had no qualms with pushing them down the next flight of stairs with his foot. And whenever they think it’s over, he goes down and does this again. Like kicking a pebble he’s found on the ground… all the way down to the first floor.

There’s this satisfied look on his face as soon as he sees the two girls on the floor already at the brink of unconsciousness. He feels so much lighter now, and all he can think of is how he wants to go home to take a nap with you. He doesn’t even walk over to the side, he just steps over the two girls on his way out.

Belphie comes home with the usual drowsy expression, but you can tell he’s in a much better mood now. He lays down next to you in bed, already hugging you close to his chest while making sure he’s not hurting your ankle. “I think I can get more sleep now…” he says with a confident smile on his lips, lulling you to slumber with him. After that incident, it’s the first in a while that Belphie finally has his usual 10 hour nap.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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appocalipse · 3 months

Text

that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

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luveline · 2 months

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do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day.

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second.

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that.

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top.

To: [email protected]

Hi James,

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst,

Your unhappy adjacent desk.

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone.

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie,

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy.

Best,

James Potter :)

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work?

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up.

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send.

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me.

You’ll be deaf by thirty.

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music?

Jealous of everyone in the annex.

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it.

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness.

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office.

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip.

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand.

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways.

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?”

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.”

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?”

You still. She?

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.”

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen.

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says.

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees.

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick.

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.”

“It’s too much work.”

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.”

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.”

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks.

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.”

“But you’d do it?”

“How long will you be off for?”

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly.

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Remus says quickly.

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?”

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?”

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.”

You can’t look at him very long.

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible.

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. “Oh, no, really?” you ask.

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.”

“I know. James knows that too.”

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that.

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you.

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask.

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?”

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.”

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.”

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.”

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.”

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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rileyslibrary · 11 months

Note

pretty pretty please 🩶

imagine ghost is forced to speak at a school’s career fair because he’s out on medical, and reader gets sent with him to chaperone. (i.e. make sure he doesn’t scare any kids to 💀. and also maybe to feed him some slightly manipulative praises so he stays in a good mood lmao)

———————————————————————

You’re both standing in the principal’s office. The school was kind enough to offer you a private room since kids are a little rowdy today, and Ghost isn’t very fond of tiny hands tagging at his uniform and asking him “how many people he has killed”.

You’re holding two balaclavas; one is black, while the other is a deep shade of army green.

“It’s either this one or that one.” You say while raising both to his eye level.

He pushes your hands down and points to his skull mask. “No.” He states. “I’ll stick with the one I’m wearing.”

You frustratedly shake the balaclavas to your sides. “Come on, Lieutenant,” you plead, “you’ll scare the kids.”

“Have you seen kids these days?” he asks, raising his hands. “These fuckers are not afraid of anything!”

“Oh god,” You wince and toss the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. You shake your index finger at his face like a teacher disciplining a misbehaving student. “Don’t you dare to swear in front of them!”

“Have you heard, kids—”

“—these days.” You cut him off with a flick of the wrist. “Yes, but there’s no need to reinforce bad behaviour.”

He lets out a long exhale and places his hands on his waist. He begins pacing around the principal’s office, swearing under his breath. You’re trying to figure out whether he needs to let it all out before his big speech or if he’s cursing the moment he has agreed to do this.

He pauses in front of a painting hanging next to a window overlooking the school’s playground. He slouches and places one hand on his lower back, rubbing his injury.

You approach him from behind and gently grasp his forearm.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies sternly. “Never mind.”

“Are you in pain? Please talk to me.”

“I’m not in pain!” He protests. “In fact, I wasn’t in pain to begin with, when the medics decided that I was,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “temporarily unfit for duty.”

You place a palm on his lower back and begin rubbing it. He relaxes at your touch and puts one hand on the wall to support his weight.

“You talk about not reinforcing bad behaviour,” he murmurs, “but I’m not the best role model either.”

“Bullshit!” You scowl.

“Seriously,” he insists, “I highly doubt I’d be here talking to kids about their future if I hadn’t been injured.”

He’s correct, but he doesn’t need to know that, especially now, as you wait to enter a classroom full of kids. Any other team member would be far more qualified for this role. Gaz is such a cool guy that most kids would deem him a god. Price feels like the father you wish you had when he talks, and Soap can adapt to anyone he speaks to. Even you would be a better fit for this year’s career fair. But, Ghost? No, not at all.

“Come on, Simon,” you say as you continue rubbing his back. “It’s less about ‘being a role model’ and more about relating to them.”

“How am I supposed to relate to them?” He wonders, “My childhood was nothing like theirs.”

“How do you know?”

He looks at you and motions towards the window. “Look at them,” he says, “they’re full of life.”

“Not all of them are like that, Ghost; some are putting on a show.” You explain, and he turns to look at you again. “They look all jolly, but they might struggle at home or school. Worse, they can’t admit what’s happening behind closed doors because they’re either ordered to remain silent or not understand it themselves.”

He huffs and shakes his head. “Now I can relate to that.” He murmurs.

“See? You need to spot these kids and indirectly talk to them.”

“Spot?” He asks. “How do I spot them?”

“You mean to tell me you’re trained to spot targets from miles away but can’t see when a child suffers in silence?” You ask back. “Plus, it takes one to know one.”

He nods. “And what should I communicate to these kids?” He asks. “How do I help them?”

“By showing them that there’s something better waiting for them out there.”

“Don’t be naive, Y/N. How is what we do better than what they’re going through right now?”

“It’s not about the military, Simon.” You elaborate. “It’s about giving them another chance. They deserve to know there are options other than turning into their drug-addicted mother or alcoholic father.” You lean forward so he can meet your gaze. “Someone gave you a second chance, right?”

He closes his eyes and ponders your words. You tilt your head at him, trying to predict what he’ll say next so you can respond quickly.

But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he straightens up and takes a deep breath. “You know,” he begins, “I gave one of those speeches to a school a few years ago.”

“Oh!” You cheer and pat him on the back twice. “Did you, now?”

“Lysychansk, Ukraine.” He recalls, “I was being held hostage with a bunch of kids.”

“Tell me more about it,” you say, sitting on the principal’s desk and playing with a pink highlighter. He begins narrating his story, and you can tell he’s becoming more confident as he realises he’s spoken to children before, albeit in a very different context, but who cares? What matters is that he is becoming more at ease with his “previous experience.”

You, in turn, try to give him your full attention, but now that his doubts have subsided, your primary concern is that mask of his. He needs to take it off.

“See? You’re far more experienced than any of us!” you shout. “And in that setting? My god! None of us would have been able to do such a thing!”

He chuckles and looks proudly out the window at the children playing in the school’s playground. He seems to be looking forward to it now.

“Hey, um, sir?”

He shifts his focus to you.

“Your mask, sir; It’s dirty,” you say as you point to his cheek.

He puts his hands on his mask. “Where?” He yells.

“It’s right….” You get up from the desk and take a step closer to him, inspecting his mask. You raise the marker and draw a bright pink line across his cheek, “...there.”

He immediately places his hand on his cheek, looks at the highlighter in your hand, and then back at you.

“You... motherfucker...” he murmurs.

You move away from him and stand behind the desk.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you go out with that mask on; the parents will be furious.” You point to the balaclavas on the principal’s desk. “You do, however, have two other options! Take your pick, and I’ll see you in class in 5 minutes!” And with that, you rush out of the principal’s office and into the school’s corridor.

You enter the classroom and greet the kids with a smile, trying to hide your nervousness. Walking towards the back where the parents are seated, your mind starts racing; Is he trying to choose a mask, or is he cleaning up your mess? What if he’s so furious that he doesn’t show up, leaving you to give the speech? Worse, what if he enters the classroom and takes his anger out on you?

But, the door opens, and Ghost walks in. Your eyes widen, and your jaw drops. He’s not wearing any mask. Not the black one, not the green one, not the skull—with the pink streak—mask on. Nothing.

You observe him moving around; despite his lack of disguise, he maintains his composure. He greets everyone in the room, smiles, waves back at the kids and stands next to the teacher. You let out a relieved exhale through pierced lips. This is going well, thank god.

As the teacher introduces Ghost to the class, you turn to give him a thumbs up, and his eyes lock with yours. There’s a faint smirk playing on his lips, and your heart skips a beat as he silently mouths something in your direction: “You’ll pay for this.”

———————————————————————

A/N: YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, ANON! I was forcing myself to take a break from writing, only to be slapped by an inspiration wave. Hope you liked it, though; I had fun making it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod ghost #ghost cod mwii #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 days

Text

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

#noncon cw #dark content cw #writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #my god....\

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lunaa007 · 4 months

Text

Astrology observations #3

These are my personal observations and should be taken in the context of the whole chart, never isolated 😊

Some of this is 18+, no minors allowed

♦️Mars-Uranus aspects can indicate a liking for risky activities and extreme sports, like motorcycling or base jumping. They can even like to put themselves in danger as they need the adrenaline. Routine is super boring for them, they need to try new things very often. They should be careful to release this nervous energy with sports, work they're passionate about or things like that or it can backfire. This aspect can be tempered down with Saturn aspects or a lot of earth energy in the chart.

♦️Venus square mars aspect: can often be mean to the person they like, classic "if he pulled your hair it's because he likes you" stuff. Can be very passionate, might have difficulty to separate feelings from lust. They might have talent for artistic sports like dancing or ice skating. For women, they might like a more sporty fashion style.

♦️Sun-saturn aspects: especially for harsh ones, this can really change the expression of the sun sign. I know someone with sun and several planets in Leo, but they are all square to Saturn and you could never tell she's a Leo; she is very reserved, shy and restrained in life. But as with all Saturn aspects this can change with age, the personality coming through more and more while keeping an amazing sense of discipline, wisdom and grounding.

♦️Moon-uranus aspects: with harsh aspects (conjunction, square, opposition), the mother might have been emotionally cold during the childhood, and she might have been a bit erratic and unpredictable. This could have showed up as frequently moving places, or having a mother considered weird or crazy by society. With soft aspects like trine or sextile this could show up as an untraditional family, maybe having two fathers or two mothers, or parents very into technology, but this was not hard on the person and it helped them develop their individuality and independence.

♦️Taurus mercury: these people can learn much slower than other people (this does not mean they are not as intelligent, their rhythm is just different). At school they might have felt behind their schoolmates or felt like they didn't have enough time to finish their exams/homework. It is important that they don't feel bad about this and take the time they need to do their work. This might be less strong with Uranus influence on mercury. ♦️ Aquarius moon natals and their need to always read and watch self-development content without ever actually feeling their feelings 🙃

♦️ Venus conjunct moon: these people are so kind, they have such a big heart and do not wish harm on anyone, please stay mindful of who has access to you as many people might want to be in contact with this energy but sometimes also energy vampires.

♦️ Mercury conjunct/square pluto and their dark humor! I have this in my chart and one of my colleagues actually said to me three days after she started: "your jokes can be really dark sometimes" 😂 it gets worse when I'm tired as I don't filter my jokes so much before saying them. These aspects might also think a lot about death and dark themes, they can be the type to think "what happens if I die tomorrow", or "I could die if I do this" but not in a worried way, just thinking rationally about what is possible.

♦️ Leo mars women and their secret backup plan of becoming a stripper or an exotic dancer 💃 these women often have a talent for dancing, and performing can make them feel desired and confident.

♦️ Aries moon/mars placements and their road rage! Both my parents have these placements and my god the number of stressful rides to school I had when I was a child 😂 this can also apply to the other fire mars.

♦️ Lilith conjunct ascendant: these people often provoke reactions everywhere they go, they rarely go unnoticed whether it is positive reactions or negative. The women with this aspect might get sexualised a lot, and the men with this aspect might attract animosity from other men. ♦️ Sun-jupiter and moon-jupiter aspects: they might always see the bright side of things, "it will get better", "this is temporary", seeing the glass half-full. A lot of optimism, faith in a higher meaning, maybe too optimistic sometimes and too trusting that things will unfold in the right way.

♦️Mars square pluto women often attract creepy men on the street, interactions with aggressive men might be unfortunately common. It is important to not repress their anger and channel their power in something like martial arts.

♦️Gemini moon/IC: they might love to talk with their loved ones at home, a lot of communication and learning in their private life. If they live alone they might be a lot on the phone or always have music or tv or radio on.

♦️Mercury square saturn: they might doubt their intellectual abilities when young, their learning style might not fit the classic school system. It is important that they are encouraged by their family, and with time they will gain confidence and master the learning techniques that fit them best.

♦️Mars in virgo might care too much about pleasing their partner in bed and have a hard time receiving pleasure without giving anything. They might also feel self-conscious if they do not feel "clean" like not fresh out of the shower. It is important for them to practice letting go of their thoughts and doubts and be present in their body. They deserve pleasure as much as everybody else!

♦️ Jupiter in the 2nd house might have a very good self-esteem, if the moon and venus are not too afflicted. And if it is the case it helps the native deal with the harder aspects.

♦️ That's why it is so dangerous to interpret an aspect in isolation of the rest of the chart, a challenging aspect might be very beneficial in a chart and less in another one. For instance moon conjunct saturn might be more challenging for a Capricorn moon which is already quite controled and closed off, but in the sign of Aries it might help the native tame their impulsivity and control better their emotions.

♦️ Or moon square Uranus might be beneficial for a Capricorn moon or a Taurus moon as it might help them break out of their routine and become more adaptable and flexible to change.

Thank you for reading!

@lunaa007

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polarisjisung · 3 months

Text

BITTERSWEET

synopsis: it's routine— you patch up his wounds and watch them heal, he salts your wounds but doesn't stick around long enough to watch them grow.

wc: 2.7k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, uses of petnames, reader ogles at jaemin for a little while, jaemin gives mixed signals but also not really?

notes: I was supposed to post this last week but the formatting was so off anyways happy renjun day, here's a jaemin fic?

even when he was battered, bruised and most probably broken, na jaemin stared up at you with those shiny eyes, almost iridescent under the moonlight.

you havent seen him in weeks.

you'd like to kick and scream and shout at him for ghosting you all this time, the possibilities of everything that could've happened to him, worrying you endlessly up until now.

you hate him for just showing up like this, out of the blue, you think, but his composure suggests that this isn't as big of a deal as you make it out to be—whether it was weeks or maybe even months later, na jaemin would always circle back to you

like always, there he is stood at your doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night, dripping blood all over the welcome mat that lays on your front porch, his usual carefree self

you know you'll be getting a long scolding from your mother about the kind of company you surround yourself with the next morning, before being forced to rub the stains out of said mat, but in this moment, you couldn't seem to care less

perhaps it's because you swear you've never seen anything prettier, even with cuts littered across his skin, and a swollen eye that would certainly discolour the next morning, he looks ethereal.

for a moment, your jaw hangs low and jaemin holds back a chuckle at the sight, though you wish he hadn't, before you slip to the side and let him in, shutting out the cold as he flings the door to a close behind him, finally turning to face you

jaemin however, had always basked in the warm feeling of admiration that came with your look, though it mostly fell straight through his heart and inflated his sky high ego instead, jaemin wonders how despite his cocky nature you seemed to welcome him all the same

there's an unfamiliar sweetness to his scent tonight, his clothes oozing with the smell of cologne and what any sane person could recognise as perfume— women's perfume.

suddenly you find it difficult to keep looking at his stupidly pretty face, almost feeling sick

admittedly tonight your eyes hold a deeper gloominess to them, bloodshot, because you're tired, he tries to convince himself, but he knows a lot of that redness comes from the purple painted splodges against his skin, the bruises that burn deep inside his being— a burning that seems negligible at the sight of you

"cute slippers" he whispers, the sight of your fluffy pink hello kitty slippers causing the heat to rush to your cheeks

the embarrassment fades just as quickly as it seemed to have taken over your entirety— jaemin had seen a lot worse of you "almost as cute as you" he adds

you brush over the topic like it means nothing, frankly it doesn't, like most things with jaemin

"judging by the state of you" you sigh, two hands on your hips as you look him up and down disappointedly, "you didn't win this fight" and jaemin reels back, far too animated for you to assume he's actually in any pain considering the offended expression he wears, but you know him far too well to fall for his, admittedly convincing, acts

"I won, actually" he says weaving his arms through the gaps between yours to pull you closer, letting then hang at your waist

"sure you did" you nod sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, following you into the kitchen

he knows what it means when you hold out two mugs, specifically the ones you had hand painted on your trip to the park when you were 5, adorned with the same floral pattern in different colours, and a cheesy quote continued across the two cups— his eyes light up

"hot chocolate?"

and jaemin hates hot chocolate, until its made by you, the sweet, almost childish drink something he could only savour in the dim lighting of your living room

maybe it was because of that specific brand of crazy expensive hot chocolate you used, that tasted a little dark and sometimes too strong for your liking, or maybe, most probably it was the taste of nostalgia that would linger on his lips each and every time

all jaemin knows is he would find himself laughing at the moustache of marshmallow fluff that would undoubtedly form over your upper lip as you carefully dabbed against his wounds with the antiseptic you kept on hand, one reserved solely for him since he was allergic to the regular stuff

he nods, attempting to grin before pulling his lip between his teeth at the sharp pain that strikes across it—hissing.

you laugh, despite the dull ache that takes over your chest seeing him like this

flicking your head over to the sofa is all you can do, worried your voice would give way if you gave the instructions verbatim but jaemin seems to get the memo.

as he takes a seat on your mother's favourite buttoned yellow velvet loveseat— you choose not to read to far into his choice of sofa

you're fishing through the drawers of your freezer to find some ice to help his wounds but all you can find is a bag of dino nuggets and a bag of peas— you decide the dino nuggets have a larger surface area and would probably be a little more help as you emerge through the kitchen door, hoping you made the right choice

jaemin finds the faint look of contemplation on your face far too adorable to hide the smile that reaches his now coloured cheeks, one darker than the other owing to the bruise that blossoms over it

"here" you offer it out to him wrapped in a towel, having learnt from your mistakes the last time you'd accidentally given him freezer burn

"gonna make me do it all by myself doll?" you shoot a questioning look his way "I'm all ache-y"

contrast to his tough demeanor, jaemin looks up at you with a pout and a look of feigned innocence

"yeah? well you should've thought about that before landing yourself in this situation"

you're ready to turn a full 180 on your heels and walk away, until jaemin's fingers wrap around your wrist, bruised knuckles begging for some sympathy

"please?"

ultimately you give in. you knew you would the second he looked at you with those shiny big eyes. you didn't know how to say no, not to him

"fine."

"that's my girl" he beams up at you, you know better than to let his words replay in your mind, his girl, why did that sound so damn good?

as your press the towel to his cheek, the cool feeling against his burning hot skin makes him wince, though you're not sure who's in more pain considering the way you your heart threatens to leap out of your chest

"how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful huh jaemin" you sigh, rubbing circles against his warm skin in an attempt to comfort him, angry eyes latched onto the rough blood stained patches

"don't call me that" his voice drops an octave somehow louder than before despite coming in whispers

"what else shall I call you? is that not your name jaemin?"

his eyes almost flash over completely black as he huffs, "not to you it isn't" and you notice the slither of seriousness that remains unmasked beneath his playful tone— you wonder why jaemin makes no effort to hide the solemnity of his words

but that's who he had always been, hot and cold, difficult to read, even more so to understand, he was confusing at best and so like most things with jaemin, you'd decided putting much thought to it wasn't your best idea, you would only be breaking your own heart.

"oh I didn't know it was different for me" you place a band aid against his wound, reaching to treat the next, your tongue poking out from between your lips causing jaemin to suddenly smile, eyes unwavering from the soft pink skin of your lip

between nights spent in his lousy apartment, cooped up in the illusive comfort of his arms and days spent with tear stained cheeks at the thought of being some disposable little thing in his life, you can't help but find yourself unsure of your place in his life

the acidity rising in your throat should be enough of a reality check for you to know the answer to your question, but self awareness had never been your strong suit.

at times he made you feel like the only girl in the world, most times he made no effort to acknowledge your existence, because jaemin was a man of two extremes

when he cared, or at least seemed to, he did so with his whole heart, and when he didn't— well you couldn't have felt any more worthless

right now his speech is sweet, like his voice is honey and his words are sugar-coated, you're intoxicated by the way his deep cologne overwhelms your senses, making your best attempt to filter out the cheap feminine scent that seems to have blended itself into his

"you know it is doll, everything is different with you" his voice reduces further into deeper whispers, words that hit your mind and soul all at once, heartbeat sounding somewhere in the background as the words echo in your mind

you shake your head.

jaemin had always been adventurous with his words, he was bold to say the least, meaning you knew to take his words with a pinch of salt, or two— however many were necessary really.

drunk on what little love he gave you, you find a sudden dizziness overwhelm you— the good kind that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside even if just for a moment.

honestly speaking, you know you'd believe anything that came out of his mouth— na jaemin could wake up one day and decide the sky was pink and the earth was flat and you'd take it as bible.

you suppose it's just integrated into your genetic coding or something, to be at his beck and call, to let the walls you build around yourself fall down every time, you would protect yourself from the whole world, but the harsh truth was, you couldn't protect yourself from him ,though you didn't mind all that much.

"one of these days I'll leave you at the door to rot" your eyes roll at his words in an attempt to return to the playful mood, and jaemin knows you would never, but the brief mention of the possibility still makes him gulp, sound resonating in his ears

"never" he whispers, suddenly his eyes are glossy and his grip on the warm mug begins to loosen, the thought of losing you never having been one to cross his mind until now, you however, seem as unbothered as before

similar to most things in life, jaemin took you for granted.

but that was the thing, you were unlike anyone, anything, any part of his life— you were special.

jaemin knew you meant a lot to him, it wasn't a secret he tried to hide, not that he was particularly good at expressing it either, but the way your hair falls over your face as you concentrate on patching up his injuries and your skin glows under the dim light has jaemin wondering just how much you mean to him.

jaemin decides you mean the most to him, more than anyone else.

as a man of habit, he wonders what that would mean for these habits of his that you hated oh so much. very little, most probably. he had you amongst a thousand other wrapped around his finger, cast under his spell, deeply infatuated with him but somehow playing with you felt the most special.

that was the problem, you were special to him and as much as he enjoyed playing with fire, jaemin had never thought he'd find himself getting burnt.

you don't realise the silence that befalls the room, nothing but the soft buzz of the fridge or the flicker of the soon to fuse kitchen light mixed with your soft breaths— he had noticed they grew louder as you became more exhausted, guilt beginning to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, knowing he was keeping you awake

he was always a little selfish when it came to you, he knew that

your eyes land on jaemin, his flooding with something you can only hope is a feeling of warmth— anything but his usual sudden switch up before he'd announce he was leaving, only for you to see him the next time he got himself like this, a couple nights into the next week most probably, a routine you can't say you had appreciated, nor condoned

most things with jaemin were like this, short lived, and bittersweet, although the bitter part seemed more overpowering at times

you can't help but hold onto the little slither of hope that tonight will be different

"hey doll" his free hand cups your cheek, forcing your noticeably distant eyes into his—but instead of the icy cold stare you expect, you're met with fire, his eyes burning with promise

"hmm?" your eyes lock, "what's up?"

"never stop nagging at me, please" he sucks in a harsh breath, hoping you'll say something to stop him from completely losing control of his words and spilling every thought he's ever held back when it came to you, a lot really

but you only take a sip of the warm drink in your mug, the tones of dark cocoa and the traces of coffee so distinct.

the white foam spreading across your lip as you now decide to tend to the gash beneath his eyebrow, though jaemin sees it as an excuse to take ahold of your face between his fingers, thumb tracing over your upper lip

"cute" your wide eyes make him chuckle, noticing a small speck of white still resting on your lip

"would you look at that, I missed a spot" you find yourself being pulled further into his lap, legs messily sprawled across the couch along with his, you don't mind however, his pink glossy lips the only thing on your mind

you'd like to let him ruin you, make you his puppet, blind you with his warmth and make you his and only his. even if you were his little plaything, it didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as you were his.

"and what are you going to do about it nana, hmm?"

you let your nose rest gently against his, soft vanilla scent mixing with the deep musky cologne jaemin wore, you wonder how it manages to last throughout the day considering your perfumes lasted all of 5 minutes, at best

"whatever you'd like doll, just say the word and I'll do it"

"you promise?"

jaemin nods, "I promise" and he holds you tight, because like all things good in life, jaemin knows one day, he'll lose you too

as you pout your lips at his, a knowing smile in his eyes , the first aid box is long forgotten behind you and your lips fall atop each other, like they'd always meant to.

you can't help but wonder how long jaemin will stick to this promise of his, forever you hope, though you know better.

especially when his hot cocoa flavoured kisses, like the true essence of jaemin, were so damn bittersweet.

517 notes · View notes

silkscream · 8 months

Text

HEAVEN SURROUNDS US

ੈ✩ summary: gojo likes that you make him feel human. admittedly, he also likes that sometimes, you make him feel like a god. ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+), fingering, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia, begging, soft dom!gojo, kind of mean gojo lol, workplace relations, reader can see curses but that's it, gojo has a god complex, dirty talk, not proofread bc i do not give a fuck ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k ੈ✩ a/n: i am having intense gojo brainrot. i was thinking about 'i'm your man' by mitski the entire time i was writing this btw. ALSO I LITERALLY HAD A GRAPHIC AND DIVIDERS FOR THIS BUT EVERY TIME I INCLUDE THEM this shit doesn't show up in the tags. i've given up!

Gojo Satoru has the smell of death burned into his senses to the point of complete apathy. He’s sure that Shoko feels similarly, though as a healer and a doctor, she’s often only met with the aftermath – the quiet decaying, the dried blood.

Gojo has encountered it all. The stench, the last pleas for salvation, the battered and torn-apart limbs. Even when the dying beings are cursed spirits suffering from the carnage created beneath Gojo’s hands, sometimes he wonders if an angel is nearby that weeps for them.

He has held grief inside his core to use as a weapon ever since he lost Geto. Nothing fazes him anymore. After the tragedies of his late teens, Gojo chooses to devote himself to his students rather than ruminating in sanctimonious thought loops. Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t a god, but sometimes, when he levitates in the sky with blood on his hands, he certainly feels like one. It’s safe to say that he may be the closest thing to one in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. It’s nothing that he despises – he’s known since his powers took shape in the awkwardness of his child-body.

Gojo likes to think he isn’t as cruel and indifferent as a god should be because of how protective he is. The warmth he’s had in his heart for Megumi alone confirms this as such, and now for Yuuji. Despite toying with the idea of divinity, he likes to remember that he’s human.

You are the only thing that reminds him of this.

Ever since Gojo had laid his eyes on you, he figured you were a delicate thing. He’s not completely wrong – although you can see curses, you lack any techniques. After becoming an assistant at Jujutsu Tech, he had taken more than a liking to you, more than he would be willing to admit to anyone else. He also never thought that the girl who was so quick to sardonic banter with him would be so vulnerable.

When you’re underneath him, maybe he does consider himself a god, just for a second. And then he feels the silky touch of your skin and he can’t help but wish for a life of mundanity with you until the earth stops spinning.

He likes that he can feel how fast your heart is beating. He likes that you become so pliant just from having his hand on your thigh.

It’s not like he exploits the little affair you have. It’s not that he wants to exploit you either, but the power trip that surges through him when you preen to his touch feels better than winning any battle. It’s those big eyes of yours. It’s a miracle you had reciprocated your attraction to him – he doesn’t know what he’d do to any other man who happened to pursue you. The thought of that kind of violence doesn’t make him feel any guilt. He’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant that he could have you forever, unconditionally.

Within the few months you’ve been working at Jujutsu Tech, you learn a few things about Gojo Satoru. He has an incredible sweet tooth. He cares about his students. He likes the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. Lives for it, even, but he could never tell you that.

That’s how you ended up here, you suppose. Writhing and wet and oh so obedient for him.

You like that a man that is worshipped by all enjoys worshipping you.

“Satoru,” you whisper. The sound of your voice makes him fucking melt.

God, it’s so much worse when you beg. Satoru wants to be gentle with you, careful, because he knows that if all of his morals were thrown out the window, he would devour you completely, leaving bruises in your wake. But he waits, titillatingly, smirking as his long fingers grasp the flesh above your hips.

“Please,” you whine. Your lower half bucks up into him, squirming just a little, but he grounds you with his large hands once again.

Satoru knows better than to toy with his prey, but the flush on your cheeks is so fucking cute that he wonders what you would look like with tears rolling down the soft blush of your skin.

“Be patient, baby,” he rasps. “Just like lookin’ at you.”

“You look at me all day.”

“Someone’s got quite the attitude.”

You’re about to protest until you feel his knuckle brush against the peak of your clit, teasingly. A nasty grin spreads across his face as he grazes his fingertips along your slit, marveling at how wet you are when he’d barely touched you.

“So pretty for me,” he muses, mostly to himself.

“Should see how pretty I am when you’re inside me.”

Satoru scoffs. Despite being so human, you have quite the mouth, so much confidence in the way you move and speak that he often forgets how easy it would be to lose you. To break you. Though, of course, that privilege is for him and him only.

He kisses you to shut you up, but not nearly for long enough. You can’t even get your tongue inside his mouth. You whine pitifully as he pulls back.

“Poor baby,” he coos. “So on edge today. What’s got you so desperate like this, huh?”

“Just want you,” your voice is meek, which is an anomaly. The honey-sweet cadence of your words is barely above a whisper.

“You have me.” Unbeknownst to you, you always will, whether you tire of him or not.

He makes his point by circling the pad of his thumb to your clit while his other hand claws at your chest underneath your dress shirt. The sound of your gasp has him reeling already, has his cock rock-hard in his slacks.

“More,” you whimper. “S-Satoru, please.”

You’re surprised when you feel the palm of his hand over your mouth. You whine against his hand, soft gasps dissipating underneath his touch as your eyes roll back. You feel two fingers enter your sopping cunt and it renders you brainless, docile just how he likes you.

The rhythmic ministrations of his fingers touch upon the spot inside your core that makes your legs shake. You like being smothered by him despite your personality. You don’t even have to tell him – he knows already, he’s known ever since he noticed your reactions to him touching you casually during the working day.

The more you crave his touch, the more you become dependent on him, even when you don’t realize it. You always pride yourself on being an independent soul, refusing his insistence to pay for your meals, the way you express to him quietly that you want to be able to fight back one day. You could perfect a certain violence in between your fingers just like he can if you put your mind to it. But you have too much dignity to request his guidance as a mentor or teacher.

He thinks about it now as he touches you. The idea of him training you to use cursed techniques. The idea of him making you in his image, shaping you like he had created you himself.

If anyone truly knew the extent of how you are the object of Satoru’s affection, of his obsession, one would render him pathetic. But he knows he’s too powerful. He knows it’s easy to make you seem like the pathetic one. You’re already begging for his cock, after all.

“I‘m gonna… I’m–”

There’s a squelching sound when he retracts. His fingers are wet with your slick and you’re on the verge of tears when you feel the loss. You’re already falling apart without his touch. It doesn’t help when you watch him lick your wetness off of his own fingers.

“Why are you being so mean to me today?”

“‘m not,” Satoru purrs, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. You try to kiss him since his face is so close to yours, but again, he restricts you. His long, slender fingers squeeze the base of your neck. “I could be a lot meaner to you, y’know. You’re lucky. This is mild compared to what I’ve thought about doing to you.”

“Wanna cum,” you whisper. You don’t even realize that there are tears falling because you’re too focused on Satoru. It isn’t fair, the way he’s toying with you. The moment he relinquishes his grip, just barely, you reach over to palm his cheek. He lets you pull the blindfold from his eyes.

“Dunno if I can let you. You’re being so greedy. Such a selfish fucking girl.” He pinches your nipple as he says it. His voice is smooth, dripping like honey, dulcet in the way his words manage to make your eyelashes flutter despite how filthy the subject matter is. He’d ruin you if he could. Perhaps, he’d ruined you the moment he touched you.

He’s touching your clit again, but not rhythmically. You feel a sense of loss every few seconds. He’s fucking teasing you now, but you’re smart enough to not snap at him despite how much you want to.

So you say his name instead. Like a hymn or a prayer. Like it’s the sweetest thing to come from your tongue. From the way your voice sounds, Satoru is convinced that his own name is a blessing just because it comes from your lips. He can’t get enough of it.

You make Satoru feel human, but the way you react to him at the moment makes him want to pretend he’s a god.

“S-Sat–Satoru. Oh.”

“You cryin’ already, baby? Thought you liked it when I played with you.”

His voice is low, raspy. Almost cruel.

Your brain is so foggy that it feels like he’s been doing this to you for hours. You can’t even form words, can’t bitch to him or dominate him the way you often attempt to. There’s a secret part of you, deep inside, that is unlocked by the way Satoru handles you. As much as he loves control, he still doesn’t know the extent of what you would let him do to you. How you wished he’d wrap a silk ribbon around your neck and collar you like a puppy. How you think you would do anything for him if he asked.

You don’t even know that he would do the exact same for you.

Now, you’re at your peak again. Your legs are wobbly, senses so heightened by the way he plays with your pussy that it takes you a few moments to notice that his cock is prodding against you, bare and pink and fucking leaking.

Maybe if you tell him you’re close, he’ll stop. You can’t stand the thought of it. So, naturally, you cry instead, and the sight makes him want to keep you for as long as he’s alive. Satoru would make sure nothing slights you, and that nothing out of his control could possibly vex you. This desire usually scares him. At the moment, it doesn’t. At the moment, he feels drunk with it.

He knows when you cum because he has you memorized. It’s a little death, truly, because when your legs tremble and your moans fade into a sharp gasp, Satoru knows for sure that your brain has turned to mush. Your body melts against his. Maybe you’d melt right into his mattress if he didn’t have more energy to play with you.

Gojo Satoru does not believe in a higher power, but he thinks that if one existed, one that was more powerful than him, he would thank them. He would thank them for you, the creation of you, the very essence of you living and breathing in the same wretched world as him. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you were made just for him.

You recover in a succession of exhales. Blinking rapidly through blurry vision as you feel Satoru’s face nuzzling your neck, almost too domestic and sweet to bear. You had never thought of anything serious with him because of his reputation, but every time he has you like this, underneath him, you often wish that he would reassure you that he wants to keep you.

And he does. He is devoted to you in a way that feels holy. He just doesn’t know how to tell you that. Satoru hopes you can figure it out just from the way he touches you.

And maybe, like him, you’re just above human. An angel, he thinks. A set of wings would suit you.

“I– I– please–” you strain. You feel embarrassed from the tears, but Satoru cherishes you. He kisses and licks them right off your face.

“I know, baby. I won’t make you beg any more than you have,” he sneers.

You’re fucking doe-eyed, angelic when he enters you. Just the tip, for now, just so he can see how you react. It isn’t the first time but you are certainly acting the part from the way your whole face screws up. Your perfect mouth parts and he touches your bottom lip with his thumb.

You whimper like a wounded thing. Like you should be begging for mercy. He hasn’t dipped too far into his God-complex yet to coax that reaction for you.

And without a warning, he pushes himself into you completely, bottoming out. He groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. So warm. So fucking wet.

“Fucked you enough to mold the shape of your pussy to my cock, huh? Feels so fucking– fuck,” he exhales, rutting into you with eyes shut.

You whine his name, clutching at him, scraping your nails across his pale back. He loves the way you need him. He wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else in the world.

Made for me. God made you for me.

You slur your words against his neck and his chest as he thrusts into you – cries of his name, of begging for more, of your usual expletives. He grins like a predator. He bends you in half and thinks briefly about breaking your limbs for the sake of his pleasure. (He doesn’t. You’re too delicate, too human.)

In reality, you’re sarcastic and sometimes brash. When Satoru has you writhing underneath him, you’re a little more shy. He wants to tease the desire from you, whatever filth that permeates in your brain.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want– I want– aah!”

“Feels so good for you, I know. Use your words for me. I know you can,” Satoru taunts.

“Want you to make me cum on your cock. Please,” you beg. “Need it deeper, ‘Toru. Need you.”

“Need me, don’t you? Say it again so I can hear it.”

“Nngh– Need– Fuck, I can’t–”

He slows the speed of his thrusts and rubs the length of your jaw softly with his palm. His other hand rubs your clit gently, making your body spasm. He tucks the hair sticking to your forehead behind your ear so he can see all of you. You and your swollen mouth and glassy eyes.

“Don’t do that,” you whine.

“Do what, baby?”

“Teasing me like this. Wan’ it rough.”

“What else?” he breathes into your neck, palming your breast as he thrusts into you deeper.

“Want everything. Want it to hurt.”

And with that, he gives it to you. He gives you all of it.

You drape your arms around his body so that you’re closer than ever, both of your bodies ready to mesh into one if they could. Satoru pushes your legs up, knees bent and ankles near your ears, and he basks in the sound of your pathetic mewls.

“Such a good… fucking girl,” he groans. “‘m so close.”

“Me too,” you reply in a hushed tone. “Right– right there.”

Satoru has fucked you plenty of times. He’s called you a slut, a greedy whore – but he can’t bring himself to degrade you like that even though he knows you like it. You’re splayed out for him, limbs limp and grateful for his embrace. You’re too fucking precious for him.

You’re too dazed to think about the moral implications of your affair. It's a miracle you can't enter his mind so deeply when you're fucked out like this. Where his thoughts flash from lecherous to monstrous, yours are rendered sluggish. There’s almost nothing in your brain, save for him and his blue eyes and the feeling of his cock. It consumes the best of you. You welcome it with open arms.

Another kiss. It’s mostly Satoru working his tongue into your mouth and you dissolving under his tongue. He tastes so sweet, so fresh all the time. His lips are so fucking soft it drives you insane.

“Pleasemakemecum,” you cry out in a jagged mumble. “Please. Need it so bad. Please!”

He groans in response. You’re begging more than usual. You are frantic and desperate and welcoming his hand to shape you in his image.

The way he grinds into your cunt becomes more aggressive, which is easy for him. There’s no resistance – your pussy is so fucking wet for him in that way. The cloying heat in his pelvis spreads to the rest of his body, warmth enveloping him like hot water in a bath.

You whine his name again and it dissipates into his mouth.

“Cum with me, fuck, I can feel you–” he moans. Both of you reach your peak in the way he grasps your body, calloused hands worshipping the length of your waist until his fingertips bruise your thighs.

His hips stutter as he indulges in his pleasure. In the sound of your hushed whimpers. In the way your nails claw across his back.

Both of your labored breaths fill the silence. Even in the dark, you admire the brightness of his blue eyes. They could replace the divinity of the stars themselves, you muse.

Both of you are hazy, intoxicated on the touch of each others’ skin. You shiver in your skin. You’re only soothed when he buries his face into your neck, long limbs splayed over your smaller frame.

“I should fuckin’ marry you,” he breathes into your skin.

“What was that?” you raise a brow.

He clears his throat. Despite the daze, he’s able to give you one of his signature cocky grins. Something flashes in his blue eyes, you think.

“I think I wanna keep you.”

If he was god, you were his seraphim, he’s decided. He almost tells this to you, out loud, because your big eyes drink him in. He knows better.

“You have me,” you reply softly, echoing him from earlier in the night. The way he smiles reminds you of the sun.

Gojo Satoru knows it’s an affirmation from you, maybe even pillow talk. But he knows that sentiment to be truer than anything he’s ever known. He is yours and you are his.

For now, you don’t know the half of it. Maybe someday you will.

#gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk

898 notes · View notes

sushirrrry · 4 months

Note

protective bodyguard harry blurb with smut please?

order a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 4.5k words cw: oral sex, dom/sub, control kink, & strong language

The grasp on her arm was tight as he pulled her back away in the small room off to the side; she tried to get out of it before she huffed in his face. He let go for a moment, looking at her before the scowl on his face mirrored hers.

The room full of curtains, all the way up to the ceiling as they coated in the majestical way that the royal setting of the palace provided. The bright colors and the warmth of the light in the room seemed to be opposite to the behavior of which they stood.

As the door shut behind them; they were now alone, awaiting the orders of her officiates before the engagement that they were to be involved. Her royal highness was to be on the grounds today with her father, his royal majesty, to offer a showing of their efforts towards their charity gala that they would showcase that evening.

But her prior, childish behavior had sent her security into a tailwind of nervousness. In the nervousness, sat a deeper feeling that he couldn’t seem to overcome as he stared at the way that the black dress hugged the curves of her shape—the inline of her waist were held tightly with the expensive fabric, the sweet white ribbon held her hair back in a half-up ponytail as the rest wisped against the edges of her shoulders.

Harry couldn’t stand the way she flaunted around in such a manner; he couldn’t stand the way his hands ached to touch her, even if for a rough moment of punishment.

But maybe that was the issue.

“What was that for?” Harry snarled at her, “You think it’s funny to put yourself into those kinds of situations?”

She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked back at him with disgust.

“What do you mean? I was only offering a photo—”

“You cannot send yourself into the crowd like that, especially in the public engagements. He could have grabbed you, or worse. You know the protocol, and you know that you can’t do that. When will you learn?”

His breath was heated as he stared at her, practically backed into the corner as her sweet smiles from before now only replaced with the scathing frown.

“Nothing was going to happen to me,” She explained, “All he did was put his arm around me. It was possibly just out of habit—and you embarrassed me, pulling me away like that.”

Sure, yes, Harry knew that he may have been a bit overprotective in the sense of how he handled the situation, but he wasn’t going to let anyone touch her in a way that was past the protocoled handshake.

The way that her breath inflated had his eyes settled on her chest for a moment; his eyes lifted just slightly at the way that her stealth mirrored him. She wasn’t going to back down this time, and he could see the flames hidden in her hazel eyes.

“Your highness, I will not apologize for putting your safety at my highest concern.” He told her sternly, pushing his feet forward just a bit as he watched her take a step back. “You know that you’re not allowed to step into the crowds, nor are you allowed to insert yourself into them unprovoked, without proper authority to do so,” His hands sat in fists next to the trousers that had started to feel a tightness that he only wished would subside. “That’s an order.”

A sudden hint of a snap hit her below the stomach, like an overturned eighteen-wheeler. Her breath settled on the tip of her tongue as her eyes fluttered at the way that he spoke to her.

The way that his black trousers settled on his hips with the delicate tuck of the white button down that she had seen him wear every day, without fail. She watched the way that his lower arm flexed as his fist clenched and the rolled-up sleeves became tight.

The silence of the room didn’t deafen her, but the annihilation of the thumping of her heartrate could have, easily.

“Do you have any idea how angry it makes me when you don’t listen to me?” He further pushed, but the tone was lowered, almost like he just wanted her to understand that every part of him wanted her to listen—to succumb to the realization that there was security in knowing that she could trust him.

She settled her lips together, nodding a few beats before her chin nodded.

She did understand how angry it made him—she watched the way that his eyes sharpened whenever her hand would linger in the crowds for too long, or when someone would reach out and grab at her. With decorum, she would nicely try to retreat. She was a nice girl, after all, and she would never want to put the royal name in any distress.

But Harry watched her—felt her, knew her intentions were to have him watch her every move. It was almost impossible to ignore the way that his eyes flickered and stayed on her as he tried his best to keep her safe.

With keeping her safe meant having her all to himself. That was the only way that he knew she would be safe—if they were in a room, completely on their lonesome without another being around to possibly put a lingering hand on her.

When his being pushed her against the wall, the twenty-foot ceilings with wall-to-wall wallpaper that had been installed by her family hundreds of years prior, he felt the electricity of her

“You like playing these games because you,” His breath hitched as he watched her eyes focus on the way that his mouth moved around, playing with the words on the tip of his tongue, “You like being punished. Don’t you?”

She gasped as his hand firmly placed itself next to her ear against the wall, almost like he had demanded an answer, without giving her a moment to think. Her eyes were glazed over, as if knowing what was to come, but already knowing the feeling that his hands would have on her in a way that she craved.

She had always craved.

“Tell me.” He moved his face further into her realm, pushing her—coaxing her to do as he told. Somewhere in the line of his need for control lie her need to submit to him; it was a merriment of the two that urged his fingers to pull her to look up at him with a darkness that she ached for.

“I want you to tell me how much you need me under that tight, little dress,” His eyes referenced the dark material that hugged her in the most sensual way, but it was classic and modern and gave her the edge that the modern royals had needed, and what he had so desperately salivated over since he had been told that he was to watch over her.

Her breath came in sharp as he she tried to feel a separation from him, but couldn’t as his foot stood between her legs, his knee nudging her knees to stay apart. She tried to close her thighs but couldn’t. The smirk on his face was apparent as he knew she needed relief and wouldn’t be able to find any.

“I would never wear a dress like this,” She practically stuttered out; a pathetic line, as he knew that she was becoming putty in his hands just at the way her eyes were glass, “Unless I knew someone else would want to take it off, Mr. Styles.”

Harry’s lips parted at the words, watching as she practically fell directly into his trap—placing herself into his atmosphere as he ached for her need, her greediness to be seen.

He knew that they didn’t have much time. Someone would be looking for them, surely. But he didn’t care enough to process what would happen if they were caught in this. His attention firmly stayed on her, and he knew that if he didn’t address now, she would never listen to him again.

He couldn’t have that—he couldn’t have her disobey him. That was pure blasphemy, and he would never allow it.

“Am I to trust that you can watch the door?” The hint of a smirk the only emotion he could muster as he strained to explode in the confines of her gaze, “Can you do at least one thing correctly?”

She cocked her jaw out to the side as she raised a brow at his snarky comment.

“Am I to trust that you will actually be able to make me cum?”

Harry pushes his hips against hers, causing her brows to narrow as a slight reaction. The words that floated off her tongue were filthy, but he knew that he could clean her up in a matter of moments.

“I could make you cum just by my words, love,” His voice like venom, “Making you wait for my cock is just the punishment you need. Always getting what you want—you love playing this game because I’m making you beg for it. And I’ll play along because,” A humorless laugh leaves his lips, “Because you’re going to be a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

“You,” She swallowed back her bite as she tried her best to study him. “Work for me.”

Harry brushed some of the hair from her face that he knew had fallen from the pretty ribbon that held her hair back in its place.

“Alright,” A broken smile placed on his face as he knew the game she was playing—a good game, at that.

“Walk away, then. Since you’re such a good little Princess, all proper and innocent,” He stared at the way that her lips part as he had moved away just a bit. “But I know that you want my tongue nestled between your thighs so bad, and you’d never give up the opportunity if it were to present itself to you. Trust me,” He said, “I will work for you.”

He watched as she thought for a moment; the tough exterior trying to remain but failing over and over again as her eyes lowered for a moment just at the thought of him moving away. She couldn’t help but think of the scorching hot heat of his tongue pressed into her, lapping up every ounce of wetness she had.

A subtle whimper left her lips as she struggled with the thought, backing against the wall enough that had his knee pressed directly into his cunt—just like he knew she wanted. The smirk that followed stated it all. She riled underneath him, pressing upwards a bit to try to get away from the feeling that elicit her, but knowing that she couldn’t fight it.

Even though she tried to push it away, she needed him in a way that felt almost animalistic. So, she surrendered to his pushback, letting her hands move up to rest on his shoulders as he felt the subtle pull towards her.

“That’s what I thought.” He said, a cocky tone milked from his throat as he won her convictions.

She tilted her head back as she could; the feeling of his hands running down the length of her body was all that she could have asked for in the moment. It was almost like heaven’s gate opened as she pulled her hips towards and into him. Harry’s eyes watched the length of her throat as she arched towards him just a bit.

His lips firmly attached to the skin, letting the softness underneath him feel scathing and almost unattainable. As he kissed down towards her collarbone, he made sure to nuzzle underneath the family heirloom pearls that rested against her skin.

Without another warning, he was on his knees before her—as if a metaphor for the way that he had been begging for this moment for the last three-hundred days that he had been notified he was to care for her; to watch her, to keep her safety as his priority.

All he had ever wanted was to be on his knees in front of her; kissing her, eating her in a way that craved every single moment that his eyes devoured her.

His fingers nudged the black fabric up her thighs, watching as it stretched over the subtly curves and dips of her hips. His knees settled on the ground as he allowed his eyes to stare up at her, watching as she arched against the wall, almost pushing her hips towards him to feel what he had been teasing.

“How long has it been?” His voice was hot on a whisper as he kissed the inside of her thigh, watching her reaction to him practically explode at the heat of his lips.

She swallowed back, “You would know,” She muttered, “You haven’t left my side in a year.”

At her words, he smirked with a knowingness; he knew that she hadn’t left his side. Their tension and weight of this had only been stewing for so long, and he was finally getting the opportunity to show her the way that he had always wanted her.

“You’re going to be fucking tight around my fingers, won’t you?” He spoke, his tongue feeling tingly as he asked the dirty words.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what gave you the illusion that I was a prim and proper Princess,” She urged, “Surprised you never heard me moaning your name when my bedroom door was closed.”

It was his turn to whimper, just thinking of all the times he had traveled with her, knowing that she was safe behind the shut doors. He had wondered if her time alone was peaceful; knowing that no one else was around to bother her, as her public job was practically a lifestyle.

But now he knew that she thought of him as she fucked herself into oblivion on the cream, silk sheets—spread and open as if telepathically waiting for him to check on her. So fucking prim and so fucking proper.

“Got a mouth on you, hm?” He commented, a roughness to his tone as he held his hands against the skin of her thighs as his own mouth practically watered at the touch, “What would the commonwealth think of their dainty, little Princess with a mouth like that?”

“It’s a fun little act,” She huffed out, a smile on her lips as she bit on her lip at the way that the man’s eyes plead with certainty of need, “Even more fun sneaking around like this, don’t you think?”

“Hm,” Harry hummed, his eyes moving up to catch hers as he shakes his head a little bit, “’S a gift to me.”

His hands caress her thighs, moving the black dress up until he’s reached the periwinkle lace, accented with a baby pink bow right at the top. His eyes guide up to her as he feels the strong connection of their electrical magnetism forcing himself as close as he can; his lips attached to the skin right underneath the slim line where the dress is pushed up.

But, right above the pink bow.

“Even your dripping pussy has a bow for me,” His heated breath was hot on her skin as she whimpers at the feeling of his merciful pout on her delicate skin, “A gift all for me.”

She felt the way her knees wanted to bend inward at the way he made her feel; a horrific shuttering of need coursing through her, watching as his head moved its way further down, attaching itself to the outside lace. As if, to only get a small taste of her. He had been holding himself back to help control his appetite for what was underneath. A teasing approach that left her shuttering out a breath.

But he was starving for the contact in one way or another.

“Watch the fucking door,” He stated, pulling away for a minute. “Don’t you dare let us get fucking caught. You’re going to have an orgasm so fucking strong you aren’t going to know what hit you.”

“Yes—yes, sir.” She blinked a few times; hands wrapped around the longer curls that practically melted between her fingertips as he sat on his knees in front of her.

His eyes moved back up to her as he watched knees as they shook in a height of adrenaline and anticipation.

“So sweet. Such a good girl for me. Doing as I say.” He commented, one of the soft remarks he made as he kissed at her inner thigh knowing that she needed a bit of kindness to overlay with the tough punishment he was going to put her through.

His fingers interlaced with the waistband of the lace panties, the waistband on them laying around his fingertips as he pulled them down with a swoop. He couldn’t believe the way that his eyes attached to the dripping cunt that practically swelled with anticipation for him—watching her writhe as there was now no friction made his cock strain underneath the trousers.

“Touch yourself,” He whispered, “Show me where you need me.”

His head felt dizzy with the starvation of her as he watched her succumb to his order. Her fingers daintily placed along on the swollen bud of her clit, pressing softly as she moaned at the touch she craved for. His eyes dark with a blackness for what occurred in front of his eyes, knowing she rewarded him with every single move.

She wriggled underneath his stare, as he used his own to gently gather the wetness that lie between her thighs. The slickness of her desire coating his fingertips as he gathered them along the length of her swollen cunt, pressing upwards just a bit as he looked up to gauge her reaction to the feeling.

Her mouth opened slightly, a hitched gasp as she practically folded in half; her back arched enough to wanting his touch so bad she couldn’t hardly stand it any longer.

“C’mon, show me more,” He urged, tapping at her leg softly, “Here—put it up here.”

On his knees, he was situated between her legs as he helped her foot urgently rest against his shoulder. He wanted the most access; the most visual for his own selfishness, as he felt his mouth water at the way she opened for him.

“Christ,” He muttered under his breath as his fingers came back up to directly press against her clit, watching as she held onto him for balance now. The soft pump of her heel dug into his shoulder, but he knew the pain was causing the adrenaline to shoot through his body. “Gonna’ fucking devour you.”

It doesn’t take any longer for his tongue to press against the center of her; the way that she falls into his touch only makes sense. The dirty tongue that had been speaking nonsensical words of affection was now tasting her in a way that felt obliged and dutiful.

“Fuck—fuck,” She whined, pulling at the hair to practically push his tongue further into her depths as he lapped up the wetness collecting around her.

“Knew you’d taste like a fucking dream,” He pushed against her thighs to keep her spread for him, his hair falling into his face as he sucked gently on her swollen clit, which led to her shuttering in practical defeat. “Fuck, Princess.”

The small play of a nickname sent her stomach into a fit, letting her hips lead her into the grasp of his tongue as she pulled at the curls that rested in the curls of his hair. She pulled it when she felt the way that he inserts his middle finger, lapping around the entrance as he buried his nose to nudge against her clit.

The small amount of penetration leads her body to need—to swell around him, as he pulls back just a bit as if the sensitivity had gotten the best of her. His tongue lapped at her entrance, spitting directly where she needed him most—as if it wasn’t wet enough; he loved knowing that she could writhe against him and soak him like this.

“I want you to—”

Notably, the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood of the chamber floors seemed to catch their attention. It’s enough that both of their fantasies push away in a moment, almost like their bubbles had burst with knowing that being caught wasn’t an option.

Harry pulls away from her thighs as she fumbles with pulling the black dress down her thighs, down to the knees where the proper length was prior to Harry’s fingers pushing it upwards. Her eyes dash to the ground before kicking the periwinkle lace underneath the sofa that sat directly in front of her.

Harry had managed to pull himself together, throwing a hand through his hair as he used the back of his palm along his mouth, as if finishing the best meal of his life. He had thrown himself down on the sofa, adjusting his belt so that his straining erection would be hidden.

She stayed standing behind the sofa, hands on her hips as she tried to pretend as if the conversation, they were having was routine; like they had planned to be alone for the past few moments, while the door opened to reveal her mother and a few aided members of the house to push past the door then.

“It’s absolutely preposterous—” Her mother stated to the dignitaries that followed in her path, before her eyes fell to her daughter—the Princess—with almost a look of relief, “There you are.”

The Princess reacted, but Harry could see as he sat in front of her with his legs crossed and his arms covering across his chest. He looked up at the woman in the dark green floor length gown, and others who had come in her wake.

“Sorry, I just came to, uh,” She couldn’t wrap her brain around any words that made sense as the slickness between her thighs came back into his thoughts, the way her thighs moved against one another made her entirely too aware of the whiplash that just occurred.

“She was having a bit of a panic. A prick grabbed her out in the garden welcome ceremony, and wouldn’t let go, so we just came to cool off.” Harry stated, looking up at Her Majesty, who happened to be the mother of the woman he had just furiously been giving a pleasureful tongue towards.

The knowingness of it made his heartbeat race; knowing what had happened before the doors of this room should have been felt just by the energy, but the two of them were keeping their lips shut as they tried to remain orderly.

“Oh,” The older woman nodded a few times, looking between Harry and her daughter before she pursed her lips, “Very well, then. Are you feeling a bit better?” She asked.

The girl nodded, giving a tight smile before she came around the other side of the sofa—Harry looked at her now, noticing that her hands were white knuckled as she held them behind her back. He bit the inside of his cheek before rubbing his hands down the thighs of his pants, drying the sweat from his palms.

“Yes, yes, I am, thank you,” She answered, before giving a subtle nod; her eyes made their way back to Harry. Their eye contact clicked immediately before she took in a breath and cleared her throat. The girl looked back to her mother after a moment, “Let’s go back, then. I will meet you there.”

Her Majesty gave a curt nod before she turned back towards the large doors and made her way out of them, back down towards where the gala was being held.

Harry let out a breath as he shut his eyes, almost feeling the weight coming outwardly from his chest.

“That was close.” He muttered.

He stood in his place, pushing off of the sofa before the girl tightened the ribbon on the back of her hair. He noticed that she may have not been able to see it clearly, watching her move towards the large mirror that hung against the wall. Her head tilted to be able to see behind her.

Harry moved to where she stood, his hands placing themselves on top of hers as he fixed the ribbon on the top of her head to let the strands hand down along the length of her hair—the tie now tight to keep her hair in place; the girl smiled at him in the mirror before he noticed the hazel draw of her eyes, aligning with the smirk that she sports now.

A silence fell over them, but it was almost as if they had to just go back to the duties of their dignified jobs, knowing that getting caught in the act wasn’t an option they were both able to handle. Harry grabbed the jacket from the edge of the sofa; readjusting his sleeves to normal down the throw of his arm before moving to follow the girl out of the room.

Her legs move towards the door that had been opened, Harry following hot on her lead as he found the strength of his voice, muttering a few words back at her as they trudged through the palace halls; notable faces in large paintings being the only ones to hear the filth to slide off of his tongue.

“Just know that I’m not finished,” he told her roughly, as she walked in front of him; his voice gathering right behind her as they fled out of the room and towards the main gardens that would hold the charity lunch that had been ignored prior. His hand slipped along the flat of her back as he felt the urge to hold her against him; this time in a much different way, “I want to see you tonight, back in the west wing.”

She held her shoulders back; continuing to feel his lips pressed against the inner thighs that felt bare, but obscenely voracious at the same time. “Is that an order?”

His smirk pressed against his lips as he stayed behind her; knowing that her lead was made to make him feel that she was in charge again. He knew deep down that was surely not the case.

“That is an order.”

Without her smirk seen, she nodded a few times, turning her head just a bit as the smirk wiped away from her face so he didn’t get the satisfaction of knowing he caused it.

“Very well.” She agreed, nodding softly before he stopped to look at her; noticing the way that her eyes fell towards his lips. They stood in the hall for a moment, her back towards him as he stood behind her in protective line as he had been arranged to do.

And in that moment, he urged the scent of her wildflower perfume to push through his equilibrium as he breathed out a subtle word of agreement to hers: “Very well.”

The sound of her heels echoed through his mind as he thought of the next time he’d be able to have her once again. On his terms, nonetheless.

517 notes · View notes

stardustlixie · 13 days

Text

hyunjin, the heartthrob

[pairing: fem!dom!reader x sub!hyunjin]

[warnings: smut, degradation (like a lot), mean reader, lowkey pathetic hyunjin, dumbassery, confusion about feelings, angry sex (kinda?), unprotected penetration (don't do this), choking, hair pulling, bondage, cunnilingus, light slapping (like twice)]

[REPOST FROM MY DELETED SMUT BLOG]

[author's note: i can't do this anymore, the grip he has on my brain is insane. this is kinda weird?? read at your own risk lmao, not responsible for the brain damage, pt.2 might be written?]

hyunjin as the type of guy to be the uni heartthrob annoying you for no apparent reason. he keeps following you around, trying to talk to you, even tho your replies make it quite clear that you want him gone. you're the quiet, scary and academic type and he's the loud, funny and popular type. the entire campus questions why he's following someone like you around, but they're afraid of saying anything because his friends always keeping lurking, glaring down anyone who tries to question him.

even tho his friend group looks quite intimidating in the distance, they're just a bunch of dorks. and so is he. but with a massive crush on you. he finds you quite scary tho, your almost neutral expression and no bullshit attitude intimidating most people that come your way. he saw just a glimpse of your kindness once, when you baby-talked to your friend's cat, he almost lost it. but he mostly sees your other side, the undefeatable one that shows in the debates in your sociology class that he sneaks in to watch, the mean one that you once used to make someone cry when they targeted your bestfriend.

he gets off to that meaner side of you, that's his dirty little fantasy. he wants to be degraded by that side and be used for your amusement while he's unable to do something to help himself, and your softer side to soothe him afterwards.

but that just stays a fantasy.

until..

you're in the library one weekend, just to return some books and pick up new ones for your research, you walk out to the corridors to see none other, than hwang fucking hyunjin. he wasn't expecting to see you there, but he bursts into a smile, pulling his attention from whatever he had in his hands.

"hey, yn!" he waves at you, you shove your stuff into your bag and walk the opposite of his direction, also opposite to where you need to go. you can't do this right now.

it's not like you hate him, you think he's cute, you're beginning to get used to him following you, maybe you'd even give him a chance on a good day. but your day has been shitty enough as is. you can't bring yourself to interact with him just now.

"heyy, you didn't wave back." he jogs up to you and starts walking alongside you. oh how you wish he'd just be his own way for once.

he doesn't like your lack of reaction. you're not even sparing him a glace!

"come ooonnn, stop ignoring me!" he pouts at you with a whine all too dramatic.

"leave me alone, hyunjin" you hiss at him. you really don't wanna say something worse, but it's like he trying to........ provoke you? he's being much more pushy than he usually is, and there's no one in the corridors on a godddam weekend and you're very fucking close to snapping.

"ynnn!! pay attention to me!" he whines again, really wanting to provoke you. he's not blind, he notices you're not in a mood to be messed with. but a tiny, little parts of him wants to push you further, to maybe make you snap at him.

and when he crosses the line and touches your waist, you do.

you snap.

pushing him to nearest wall with some force, drawing his breath out of his lungs. you pin him there and your anger flows out, in sharp, hurtful words.

"the fuck do you think you were doing? what makes you think you can touch me? is this another dare from your group of fuckboys? or are you just a little attention whore who thinks he's entitled to everyone?"

you didn't mean a word you said, your anger was making up stuff on it's own, but he was flushed, a wild red on his face, that's when your gaze dropped to the floor, looking at whatever he dropped when you shoved him. you lean down to pick them up.

pictures. of you. not too many, not pictures taken by invading your privacy, but a few snaps of you in the corridors, or the canteen, or the library. times when you were fully aware he was there, from that one polaroid phase he had, he used to carry that thing around for a full two weeks.

the pictures flip something in you, you take your chances with him. you wanna test him, you know it's risky, but your brain isn't weighing it very well currently.

"god, hyunjin. look at you-" your voice drops an octave without you even realising it, and it does things to him that can't say out loud. you wave the photographs at him.

"-taking pictures of me like a little creep? so filthy. following me around like a desperate little slut. were you hoping to be discovered?"

you didn't expect him to be as affected as he was. breath uneven from your jump scare a second ago, ears red, with some of redness bleeding into his face, still affixed in the position you pinned him in. your leg shifts between his legs and his boner brushes against your thigh. what a surprise. he likes this. he looks away from you, but you turn his face to you with your forefinger, him gulping at the action. adorable.

"you really are an attention whore aren't you? following me around like that? clicking pictures of me? bothering me and hoping I'll take notice? pathetic." you tsk at him, he looks on the verge of tears but his boner says a different story, you experimentally press you leg over it, recieving a small whimper in return. yup, he's definitely enjoying this.

"you got hard just by me yelling and shoving you huh?"

he's torn, his brain sending him mixed signals, he's embarrassed, he wants to go back to his dorm and hide and never show his face to the world ever again. but he likes this, part of him wants you to humiliate him more, maybe do things to him that he won't be able to forget. and a part of him is even more embarrassed at the route his thoughts are taking.

you're not thinking straight. he's hot, you shouldn't be doing this, but some predatory instinct inside you wants to. you use him as a catalyst to get your mind off of whatever has been bothering you. it probably shouldn't be a big deal, he wants this anyway.

"tell me hyunjin, do you really think i don't notice? you think i didn't notice you staring at me when I was with Lin and her cat? do you really think i didn't see you when I had to drive that asshole away from her? you think i don't notice how you sneak into sociology and watch me from the corner? i do. how will you explain all that huh?"

fuck. he didn't think you noticed. he really has no explanation. he's fucked. you could report him, or worse, out him infront of everyone, you even have the photos with you. he should have thought this through. he's done for. he's pretty sure you're gonna report him-

"i'm sorry! please don't-"

"make up for it."

"w-what?" he's pulled out of his trance.

"well, since you've behaved like a pathetic slut, make up for it by actually being one. maybe then i'll forgive you"

he gulps, he would do it without second thought but he doesn't know if you're kidding or mocking him. he even has no idea how to say it, so he just sighs and nods.

"that's what i thought. follow me."

he follows you on shaky legs as you lead him outside of campus, and the next thing he knows, he's being pinned to the door of your apartment while you unbuckle his belt and whip it out of it's place. he has no idea what to expect when you detach yourself from him and seat yourself on the couch.

"come here." you order and he follows, walking over to you.

"strip." you say, he feels exposed under your intense gaze, even with you sitting down on the low couch while he stands in front of you, he feels like he's on display. he can't say he doesn't like it tho. so he puts on a show for you, peeling of each piece of his outfit one by one, jacket, followed by his shirt, then his pants, all in quite sultry a manner before he stops, only his boxers on, and looks at you uncertainly.

"off." is all you need to say before he's kicking them away, his erection springing free. you look at him for a good while, soaking in details of his body, pretty neck and collarbones, lean arms and torso and such a slutty waist, further down to his painfully hard dick, red and leaking, body supported by strong and pretty thighs. and for a guy like him, he has a big dick.

he's aware of your intense stare on him, suddenly feeling very conscious of his own appearance.

you get up from your place, his belt still in one hand, the other going to his shoulder, making him shiver before it glides to his back as you make your way behind him, gripping his hips and pressing your front to his back, as if to tease, making his breath hitch. you bring his wrist his wrists together behind his back and tie them together with his own belt.

"i'm giving you a chance to back out, i'll throw those pictures away and you can walk out like this never happened. do you wanna stop?" you whisper into his ear.

"n-no."

"good, then kneel" you smirk, pushing him down onto his knees and resuming your place on the couch.

you take a moment to admire how pretty he looks like this, kneeling infront of you with his hands tied back, breath uneven and so disheveled. so, so pretty.

as you take your pants off, his eyes fly to your covered heat, cute. you can't help but slowly press your foot down onto his dick, drawing a pained moan out of him because he's been neglected for so long.

you part your thighs and your eyes are enough to order him to get to work. he shifts to you and licks a long stripe on top of your wetness before you shift your panties to the side. he can't help but drool at the sight.

he starts working immediately, licking and sucking like a man on a mission. and he's on a mission indeed, a mission to prove himself somehow, because he knows this is probably the only time this is happening and he wants to make you feel as good as possible, make you remember him, because he sure as hell will never forget this. and certainly never forget the sudden moan from you as his tongue laps at your clit, noticing you're the most sensitive there. he keeps that in the back of his mind as he sticks his tongue inside of you, quite literally making out with your cunt. your hand comes down to grip at his hair, drawing a moan that vibrates straight into your core.

his tongue moves in and out of you while his button nose touches your clit with each movement, he pulls his tongue out only to attach his mouth onto your clit enveloping it in warmth and sucking on it, making you pull stronger at his hair before he resumes his work inside of you.

he's too good at this, it doesn't help that it's been a long while since you last did anything sexual.

you push him further into yourself by his hair and he moans right into you, the vibrations bringing you awfully close to your high. you release a breathy curse which motivates him to speed up.

when you cum, it is with slight spasms, chasing down the delicious feeling as your thighs close around him, burying him into you, almost suffocating him, but he keeps going nonetheless.

you yank him back by the hair to look at his drenched face, he finally catches his breath, making his chest heave as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. you give his face a slap, not too hard, yet he only moans at the impact.

"you like being slapped, slut?"

"y-yes" he nods as well as he can with the grip you have in his hair. you slap him, the redness resulting just adding to the erotic look on his face.

"up." you instruct, he stumbles up onto his feet with a wince and you move to free his hands. his wrists are red, almost bruised by how hard he's pulled against the belt.

you lay back on the couch, beckoning him over.

"fuck me." you order. "if you can that is." you add after seeing the uncertainty on his face, he nods frantically.

"i c-can."

he says he can, but he melts the moment his dick enters you, he's too sensitive, having waited for so fucking long.

"feels so good. fuck." he moans into your ear at the feeling as he hovers over you. he starts to move, his length stretching you out and drawing heavy breaths out of you by the sheer size, his tip touches your g-spot without much effort, hitting it repeatedly as he starts moving.

his arms shake at your sides, everything becoming too overwhelming for some reason, your warmth wrapped around him, the stimulation suddenly making his head spin.

"f-fuck... " the poor boy is trembling, voice slurring as his hips move in an erratic manner, although it's taking you time to get used to him, you take the chances you get to mock him. your hand moves to wrap around his throat like a necklace of sorts.

"you can't even fuck me, so pussydrunk already? i'll have to all the work myself huh?" he looks at you with glossy eyes as your fingers press down on the sides of his neck.

"please yn" he whimpers out, with no real context as to what he's asking for, his eyes screwing shut. his arms are barely keeping him up anymore, sweating and trembling like he'll fall.

"you're too fucked out to even use your brain huh? begging and you don't even know what for. it's okay tho, since that's all a dumb slut can do. i'll show you how you're supposed to make me feel."

you push him onto his back, getting a yelp in return and waste no time in grinding down onto him, resulting in a loud gasp from the boy. your hand finds it's way back to his throat. he lets go completely, hands falling to his sides and head pressing back into the cushions as he releases a string of broken moans while you ride him into oblivion.

"o-oh, fuckfuckfuck. oh god."

you laugh at his helpless sounds, suppressing your own becoming difficult.

"god isn't gonna save you here, baby."

that makes him let out a loud, almost sob like moan.

"please." he whines as his hips buck up in the slightest. you're getting closer with every passing second and it looks he is too.

"please what, sweetheart? want me to stop? because your pathetic self can't take it? or want me to fuck you dumb until you're left a babbling mess?" these words make him let out the loudest moan you've heard from a man. he really does get off on degradation.

"c-close. oh god, please. please. fuck." he's physically restraining himself from reaching out to you, hands grasping at whatever purchase he can find on anything around him.

"fuck. i'm close. you there? cum with me." you breathe out to him and he cums with a broken sob, his high hitting him like a train as his breath falters and his back arches beautifully, you keep moving throughout, riding out your own orgasm which hits in sweet waves, you keep going for a while after, just to overstimulate the boy a little, getting small, pained whimpers from him.

"c-can i touch you? please?" he asks, still in his post orgasm haze, his voice so adorably small that it makes you give in.

"go ahead." you say, expecting him to touch you tits or ass, but you didn't expect him to pull you body down to lay on top of him as you both catch your breath from your orgasms. he was holding on tight, like he'll fall if he let go. that little action did something to your heart but you pushed it back, not wanting to ruin the moment.

you originally planned to fuck him and kick him out, getting rid of those pictures anyway, but you think you don't mind if he stays for a while, you let him cling to you for a few minutes before the stickiness and stench of sex gets to you.

"hey, hyunjin? let's clean up hmm?" he makes a small noise but unwraps his arms anyway, but winces with you when you get off of his dick.

you pay no attention to his cum dripping out as you get yourself and him towels to clean up and put on some clothes.

he lets you drag him to the kitchen and accepts the water you give him, you're busy observing his features when his small voice snaps you out.

"i'm sorry." why is he apologizing? you find him looking down on the floor.

turns out he's sorry for clicking those pictures without your consent, it takes a while to convince him that you actually saw him taking those, just chose not to protest. well since you noticed him in places he didn't think you would, this didn't surprise him either.

you send him off with a warning not to die on the streets in a car accident.

fuck, you really need to get him out of your brain.

he's gone and you suddenly remember you need to clean your apartment before Lin comes over, you rush to find a way to get rid of the very obvious smell of sex in your living room, while you clean your brain goes on autopilot with it's thoughts.

so he's clingy after sex-

wait, what?

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