#it *can* be pulled off without making me roll my eyes with enough depth given to everybody involved

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I think what chronically upsets me about TotK is that. So much of it could have been so good with so little change.

I am into Zelda as a sacrificial, wondrous and silenced creature who must literally carry the blade of the hero as a wound inside her forehead and silently wait to be humanized again --and the injustice of a kingdom built on such a premice doomed to repeat itself, especially if the kingdom was founded on such dubious grounds to begin with. I am into Ganondorf forcing the present to reckon with the past through the most violent clash, forsaking everything that made him a person while sinking down into petty vindictiveness until no connection and no humanity remains, even though independance was what he was trying to protect in the first place. I am into Link as somebody trying to hold onto his most important connection to the world he once knew being used to force him into a conflict that has ultimately nothing to do with him (sure that's SS again but, it could have been explored even further). I am into Rauru as this self-important, self-made king who used his own association to godhood to live out a power fantasy that refuses to ever be acknowledge as such, maybe compounded by the fact he is one of the last of his species and feel, himself, the crushing weight of their fading heritage?

I don't know, the Tears of the Kingdom or something????

But, it all tragically depends on one crucial thing, which is to allow hylians to be wrong sometimes.

And it's wild to me how all of this incredible potential to comment on the series' history and the characters' role in it is just. Flattened into nothing, because Good must be Good and Evil must be Evil, and Hyrule must be righteous at literally every cost --even if it means nervously rewriting their own history through convoluted logic that rejects conflict and depth and vulnerability at every turn.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I am not doing well with the time change lol

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wallow in the jagged fragments of reality, skipping through the cracks into delirium. The pain is dull but tolerable as you languish on the couch, forgetting now and again where you are, even your own existence. Figures pass by you and vaguely familiar voices waft in the air. 

“See ya, sweetheart,” Hansen's face comes clear through the haze as he leans over you and taps your thigh, “don't have too much fun without me.”

He struts away, fading back into the obscurity of your prescription laced coma. The relief is more than physical, it feels nice just to stop thinking. No kids, no scummy husband, no skeevy boss. It's just you and the sofa.

Your lashes flick as you sense another shadow. You can make out your name but nothing else. The world shifts painfully around you as a grunt cuts through your brain. Your eyes open as Pete lays you sideways on the bed.

“Honey, you okay?” He asks uneasily as he peers down at you. He leans over to touch your forehead, “hey, I'm gonna get you changed, alright?”

You garble and stay as you are. You could just fall asleep right then and there. He sighs and you sense him pacing along the foot of the bed.

He returns to you, undressing you clumsily. Each time he jars you, you whine and he apologises. You barely register each sorry as he strips away your armour.

As he unhooks your bra, you wave him off. You cover your chest, clinging to the pilly satin blend. He touches your wrist gently.

“Hey, I got a shirt,” he waves a length of fabric over you, “come on, honey.”

You pout as he pulls your arms apart and slips your bra off. You close your eyes, the mortification the only feeling to break through the medicine’s blur. He helps you sit up and unfolds the tee shirt, opening the head hole only to pause it just in front of you.

You feel him staring.

“Babe,” he rasps, “you know I still love you, don't you? It was stupid mistake–”

You groan as a surge breaks through the muddy waters of your mind. You snatch the shirt from him and hiss, your back spasming. You ignore the vicious twinge and throw the shirt over your head.

“Babe, please, let me prove it to you.”

You scoff and shove his shoulder, “look what you did,” you snap, “you did this. You hurt me.”

“I didn't mean– I was trying to make it up to you–”

“I told you to stop,” you lay back with a whimper, “but you never fucking listen.”

Your eyes roll back and you heave a shaky breath.

“Honey,” he squeezes your shoulder, “please, just give me another chance.”

“Leave me alone,” you sneer as you hide beneath your eyelids, “I got enough pain as it is.”

🗄️

You plummet into a shroudlike sleep. Your head is foggy and swimming as you body detaches from your mind. You are nothing in the ether of your subconscious.

The depths of your drugged coma recede slowly, like crumbs falling away from a scone. Little by little, the tension coils in your muscles and the ache becomes less dull. It isn't until the thrumming becomes an agonizing pounding that you escape your medicated stupor.

Your eyes snap open as a tickle along your thigh sends tendrils through you, knotting between your hips as you whimper. God, you hurt so bad. You need more of your pills.

Your discomfort is made little better by the stiff bend of your legs. At first, you don't understand why you're splayed like that, knees at an angle, hips wide open. The cool sensation along your folds has you gasping as you throw your hand down to ward off your assailant.

You lift your head shakily and stare at your husband bent between your legs. If you hadn't already uncovered his sliminess, you'd be in disbelief. You're only dazed by the dregs of your prolonged slumber and the intensity of your tortured tailbone. You push on his head, his hair slightly greasy as it dangles down to tickle your pelvis.

"What..." you eke out, "are you... do--"

You drop down and wrack with pain as he prods along your folds. Your tailbone is on fire. He continues he violation as you squirm and whine helplessly. You're nearly blinded in agony.

"St-st-stop," you stammer between shallow breaths.

"I told you, baby," he purrs as he pokes his fingers past your entrance, "I can show you how much you mean--"

"It hurts--" you babble, "Pete, please, you're hurting me---"

He hushes you and bites into the tender flesh along your thigh as he dips his fingers into the knuckles. Your eyes well up as your muscles draw tighter and tighter. You want him to stop but you can't fight your own weakness.

"Stop," you snivel as your head lolls back and forth, "stop, please..."

"Baby, you're wet," he snarls and laps at your folds, "you were wet..." he breaths humidly against you, "before I even touched you."

"N-n-nooooo," you mewl and close your eyes.

This isn't happening. You said stop, you said no, but he's not listening to you. When does he ever? But that's about the chores and schedules and responsibilities.

"P-p--" you puff out.

"Shhhh," he purrs, "gonna wake the kids..."

His tongue delves along your cunt again and he rams his fingers in deeper. Your tears spill down your temples as you clutch rumpled duvet to one side of you. You can't believe this is happening. And you can't believe after the months you spent pleading for you to touch you that it feels so rotten. He doesn't want you, not really, he just doesn't want to lose what you do for him.

You close your eyes, trying to forget what's happening, trying not to feel but it's too goddamn painful. Flashes glimmer in your mind. Another man, another touch. Lloyd's silty slither taunting your mind. You're back on the couch and he's crowding you, touching you, but it's not the same. You can't find that peak. The final release.

Pete slips his fingers out of you, growling as he lifts himself over you. You sense his shadow and the bed jostles you, drawing several squeaks from your wrought lips. He bends over you, his breath scalding you as his body heat roils across your skin. He rubs his tip against your folds and sighs.

"You came," he snarls, "I felt it."

You don't even have the strength to argue. You can't feel anything but repulsion for him. You're not even close to orgasm. You're only delirious because of the ringing at the base of your spine.

He angles himself along your cunt and holds his breath as he leans his weight into you. He forces himself inside, jolting you as he loses all patience. Your cheeks are a flood of horror and helplessness. Your legs fall flat as he begins to thrust, short, harried bursts that have him panting into the crook of your neck. He growls and grits out your name as he ruts.

It doesn't last long. You don't even have time to wish it's over. He's done. He collapses on you and your voice fizzles to a weak rasp. Ow.

"Figure we could get some of that tension out," he nuzzles your neck.

"Get. Off," you gnash through your teeth.

"Huh?" He gurgles and raises his head to gape down at you, "honey--"

"Why--" you gulp back your disbelief and push on his shoulders, "get off!"

"Woah, woah, the kids are sleeping--"

"Yeah, so you do that," you sneer as you slap him, your hand only weakly glancing off his cheek, "get off of me."

"I was only tryna make it up to you," he whines as he slides out of you and sits back on his heels, "come on. What do I have to do to get through to you--"

"Owwwww," you sit up with as much strength as you can must, nearly sobbing from the agony, "stay away from me."

You push yourself off the bed and crumple to your knees. The shirt clings around your middle as you quake, putting your hands flat to the floor as you crawl across it. The bed lurches as Pete bounces off behind you.

"Here, let me help--"

"You touch me again and I am going to lose it," you snap, your breath laboured around your threat.

"I..." his protest shrivels up. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck off," you reach to pull open the door, ready to break down as you think of the trek ahead of you. Two floor down to the cot in the basement.

You hear him harrumph and can picture the pout on his lips. You hate him. You hate him so much that you don't even feel bad about what Hansen's going to make you do. You might even like it.

🗄️

You only make it down to the couch. You manage to drag yourself onto the cushions and get under the throw blankets. You think of snagging some more pills but think better of it. It'll be up to you to get the day started, as always.

You don't sleep. You just lay in the aftermath of what happened. Of what Pete did. It churns your stomach so violently it makes you hurt even more.

It's over. That's what really keeps you awake. Your marriage is done. It's not just his doing, it's yours. You need to cut the fat and yet you feel guilty at just the thought. 

You wake up at your usual time. You swallow a single pill with a cup of bitter coffee. You pause as you look at the label of the amber bottle.

‘Take one pill every six to eight hours.’

You think back to the two tablets in Hansen's palm. You should've known better. You do. You just can't think straight through the pain.

You climb the stairs one at a time and hobble down to the kids’ rooms. You get Simone up first and she helps you with Malik.

“Mom, you look tired,” she says as she takes a sleepy Malik by the hand and tugs him away from his bed. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little,” you answer evasively, “come on.”

You usher the kids downstairs, gripping the railing for life. As you come to the bottom, your legs wobble. You can’t hide the moment of weakness from Simone as she turns to watch you.

“Mom, please, sit down,” she begs, I’ll make cereal for Maiik and get him ready.”

“Sweetie–”

“Where’s dad?” She interrupts, “he should be doing this?”

You blink. You think of telling her to go find him but given the last time you saw him, you’re too nervous to do that. You wouldn’t want her to find him in a certain condition.

“He’s getting ready for work,” you sigh, “I got some time off for my back, I can handle the morning.”

“You won’t get better if you don’t stop–”

“Simone, I get it, okay? But I’m your mother, it’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around,” you say firmly, “you can get Malik his cereal and you get yourself some too, okay? You two can catch the bus with Erica today.”

She frowns but accepts your order. It’s a compromise. You know you can’t drive. Just the thought of getting in the car makes you want to vomit.

You grab the inflatable cushion and add a few breaths to it before setting it on the couch. You lower yourself with a grunt and shift, your comfort dangling just beyond grasp. The problem is you can’t stop fucking tensing up.

You lean your head back and blow out a breath. You listen to the soft clink of two bowls and the fridge, the pouring of hard cereal into porcelain. It’s not that bad. You’ll get up to help them brush their teeth and brush their hair and all that.

“Come on, Malik, you have to eat at the table.”

“I’m sleepyyyyy,” he grumbles as you hear him stomp across the tile.

“So am I, be quiet,” Simone snaps and the bowls clink down. “Sit down and eat.”

You rub your forehead, yawning as you commiserate quietly with Malik’s struggle. A dash of colour flits by and before you can call after her, Simone is rushing up the stairs. Dammit. You can’t keep up. You’re old and fat and hurt and useless. Explains a lot.

You cringe as your ears tweak, listening above for the commotion.

“Dad, get up! You have to come down and help mom,” Simone’s voice is loud as she nearly hollers at your husband.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbles as footsteps come muffled through the ceiling.

The stairs creak as they descend. Pete wears a pair of boxers and a grey tank. You look away, mortified.

“I can’t get Malik dressed by myself and I don’t know how to make coffee,” Simone says.

“Right,” he utters as he lingers by the kitchen door. 

Simone goes back to the table and you hear her spoon hit the bowl as the chair legs scrape on the floor. Pete stares at you as you ignore him for the wall. He huffs before passing into the kitchen. You hate this. You hate feeling so futile.

You flinch as a knock hammers on the front door. You whine as a pang strikes up your spine. Pete comes back in, a coffee filter in hand. He clammers across the room into the entryway and the lock loudly grinds back.

“Oh, hey, uh, Lloyd?”

“Sup, Petey Pie,” Hansen’s voice chirps back, “hope you like Dunkins. They got a cinnamon roll ice coffee I thought the missus would love. Got you a tall black and the kids some donuts.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to do that.”

You hate these men and how fake they are. More so, how pestilent they are. Two sides of a sleazy ass coin. Counterfeit at best.

“Figure you could use the help,” Hansen continues, “get the kids out the door. Oh, I also called my specialist. Can get her in for scans at noon, make sure nothing’s totally broken.”

“That’s great,” Pete croaks, “uh, come in, I guess.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hansen sings.

[ali-annals]

summer's a knife (it's a cruel summer)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: T | Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ao3 | WC: 2.2k | TW: mentions of blood, cleaning wounds

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

“So, wanna tell me what happened that you’re halfway to swiss cheese?” “Not really.” “Fair enough.” She peered at the wound. “You’re lucky–seems you shouldn’t need stitches.” “Oh goodie,” he deadpanned. “Want to tell me why you’re in a place like this, then?” “Awfully chatty for a nurse, aren’t you?” “Awfully grumpy for someone getting free healthcare, aren’t you? Besides, you seem like you’d grumble about my lack of bedside manner if I didn’t talk. Excuse me if I can only think about things related to what I’m currently doing.” To her surprise, he threw his head back with a laugh. “I like you.”

The neon lights of the vending machine cast a colourful glow on the person in front of it, probably a male based on height and body type. His face was covered by the red hoodie he was wearing, but Marinette could tell he was aware of her presence behind him. 

Something was off about him. He’d immediately shifted to a defensive stance when he sensed her behind him (it was very rare for someone to notice her when she’d been walking as softly as she had been), there was an awfully clean rip through the side of his hoodie–almost as if it had been made with a knife, and he was almost going out of his way to appear unsuspicious–which was of course the most suspicious thing. 

“Are you going to buy anything?” she asked, moving a little closer.

His head turned and she made out dark hair and a strong jawline, teal eyes glowing from the depths of the hooded shadows. 

“Go ahead.” He shuffled out of the way.

His voice was a little raspy, but she liked it. He turned on his heel, obviously about to leave, but paused when her voice reached him.

“Wait.”

He waited, something she hadn’t actually expected him to do. 

“You look hurt. I’ve got first-aid training, if you want help.”

Those glowing teal eyes met hers, sizing her up as a predator might. She felt judged, but not unsafe, something that should have been strange, given their size difference and the general aura of danger that he exuded. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not?” she returned. “I have the ability to help someone who looks like they need it. Side wounds are a pain in…well, the literal side to deal with. It’s awkward. And we’ll likely never cross paths once we check out of this skeevy motel; we’re obviously here because we can keep secrets.”

A small smile cracked the lower half of his face. 

“If you’re so insistent on helping, be my guest,” he shrugged. “My room’s just down the hall.”

~~~

“I don’t usually go to men’s rooms without even knowing their names, but I’ll make an exception tonight, I guess,” she joked, sensing his nervousness.

Which she found strange–what did he have to be nervous about? Sure, he was wounded, but she was way smaller than him and as far as he knew posed no threat to him; their roles should be reversed. She’d retrieved the first-aid kit from her room, one she’d packed herself before she went on the run. 

He half-sat, half-collapsed on the creaky twin bed, a foot too short for his tall frame, while she removed her rings and placed them in her bag, washed her hands, and laid out what she thought she’d need.

“Shirt off, please.” She sat on the edge of the bed, beside him, rolling up her hoodie sleeves.

“Awfully forward to guys you don’t know,” he snarked, pulling the hoodie off, revealing a stained white t-shirt that he pulled off one-handed. She really envied that guys could do that.

“Like I said, you’re an exception,” she retorted primly, snapping the wrist of the glove against her skin. “Ooh, that looks painful.”

He hissed as she prodded carefully at the slowly bleeding stab wound just under his ribcage. “Ow!”

“You can call me Mari, if you decide to curse me out in a minute,” she informed him, using his already-ruined t-shirt to wipe away the worst of the blood, which was already crusting over in places. 

“You can call me Jay,” he offered in return.

“So, wanna tell me what happened that you’re halfway to swiss cheese?”

“Not really.”

“Fair enough.” She peered at the wound. “You’re lucky–seems you shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Oh goodie,” he deadpanned.

“Want to tell me why you’re in a place like this, then?”

“Awfully chatty for a nurse, aren’t you?”

“Awfully grumpy for someone getting free healthcare, aren’t you? Besides, you seem like you’d grumble about my lack of bedside manner if I didn’t talk. Excuse me if I can only think about things related to what I’m currently doing.”

To her surprise, he threw his head back with a laugh. “I like you.”

She tapped the adhesive of the bandage down gently. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“You sound like my father,” he groaned, covering his face with his forearm. It was a very nice forearm, and the pose really showed off his non-bloodied muscles. It wasn’t a bad view at all.

With a sigh he answered. “I came here looking for a friend. They’d told me they knew something about a thing that could fix something that I have. I couldn’t find my friend at the spot we agreed to meet up, so I went out looking, and then I got attacked.”

“Wow, so specific,” she said dryly, gathering up her things. “I guess that’s safer.”

“You have no idea. Care to share why you’re here? Let me guess…secret lover?”

She snorted, balling up her gloves and tossing them neatly into the garbage can across the room. “No. I don’t do romance anymore, and I have standards, anyways. If I have to sneak around to meet him…big nope from me.”

“Then…you’re on the run from your billionaire father who’s threatened to marry you off to an acquaintance for his business?”

She laughed outright at that, unrolling her hoodie sleeves until they hung at her wrists again and slid on her rings. “Do they do that in this day and age? No, my dad’s a baker, not a billionaire. I’m here because I’m hiding from a group of magical ninjas after me for my jewelry.” She laughed, flashing her beringed hands in his face.

His hand grasped her wrist, observing the silver bands circling her fingers. His touch was warm, gentle, the rough calluses on his fingers providing a strange stimulation that headed straight to her nerves, but his eyes were sharp, wary as he scanned the metal.

“Thank you for looking after me,” he said sincerely, gaze meeting her own.

She remembered to take a breath. “You’re welcome. I’m glad it wasn’t worse. It seems like you’ve experience with injuries of this style, so I’ll assume you know how to take care.”

He grinned ruefully down at his scarred arms and torso. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Great,” she said briskly, dusting off her jeans as she stood up, snapping her kit closed. “Stay safe out there, and I hope you find your friend okay.”

“You’re just leaving?”

“Yep. I’ve done what I can.”

She thought he’d protest, but he only waved. “Thank you. Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she smiled, stepping out of the room. She heard the click of the automatic lock and leaned against it with a sigh. 

It was dangerous, but she was going to stick around here a little longer. She had to, for his sake.

~~~

Noire slipped into the shadows as Jay slipped out of his motel window. He wore a black t-shirt instead of his old white one, but still wore the charcoal-grey cargo pants from that evening. 

The last ultramarine tinges of the sunset lingered in the sky, providing just enough light for Noire’s enhanced eyesight to track Jay’s path from the window to the ground, to the streets behind the motel.

Noire easily ran over the rooftops as he made his way through the winding streets of the city, probably looking for that friend he’d mentioned. So much for resting like he should after that wound, but going by the number of scars she’d counted on him, he didn’t live the most restful life. He talked to the girls on the street, a couple street kids that hadn’t hidden at his approach, and one abuela closing up her restaurant for the evening. They didn’t appear to give him anything.

He seemed to sense someone was following him, often turning as if to catch them in the act, or taking deliberately obscure paths that only a stalker would follow him through.

She’d gradually grown closer as the night deepened and the shadows hid her more fully, and she ducked behind a dumpster when he seemed like he might turn around again.

Then she saw them, five of them. All in black, like her; armed, like her; stalking Jay, like her.

Jay saw them, too. She was mildly impressed by that.

“What do you want this time,” he asked one, exasperated.

So they’d done this to him. She recalled what he’d told her before. He was looking for something to fix something he had. 

Taking a chance, she stepped out, drawing the ninjas’ attention to her. 

“I believe I’m what you’re all looking for,” she said.

~~~

Whoever was knocking on her door before noon should be Cataclysmed, Marinette decided, getting out of bed with a loud groan.

“What?” she snapped, answering the door with all the grace sleep-deprived Mari contained, which was about a thimbleful.

“Mari.”

“Oh. Jay. Got another stab wound for me to fix?”

“Thankfully, no. You’re the person I was looking for?”

“I dunno, am I?” she opened the door wider in silent invitation.

He sauntered in, settling into the rickety chair across from her bed. For her part, she dove under the blankets, relishing the small bit of retained warmth.

“So, I’ve been looking for you because I’ve been told you have a cure for Pit Madness.”

She tsked. “No wonder they’re after me. I wondered why, after all this time.”

“Why do you know the League of Assassins?”

She opened her eyes, sitting up to read his facial expressions. “Wait, those were League ninjas?”

He stared at her. “Who did you think they were?!”

“Uh. Ninjas from my magical sect? They don’t think I’m fit to…know the cure, so they tried to get me to give it up, but I convinced them I was fine with it. Why was the League after me, then?!”

“That might be my fault,” he offered sheepishly. “Ra’s doesn’t want to lose his last thread of control over me, so he was either going to get rid of me after I was cured or both of us if I hadn’t been fixed by the time his assassins caught up to us.”

“I’m going to push him into his precious Pits and then cataclysm them one day, I swear,” she mumbled, collapsing against her lumpy pillows. 

She sat up again. “Okay, cure. It’s not that bad in you, so it shouldn’t take long. Plagg, Tikki!”

The kwami appeared at her summons, inspecting the startled Jay. 

With a flash of their combined magics, Jay slumped in his chair.

“He should be good as new when he wakes up. It’s best to let him come to naturally,” Tikki warned her. 

“Thank you.” She handed over their snacks, twisting Plagg’s ring absentmindedly on her finger as she watched Jay sleep.

~~~

The summer passed far too quickly, Jay and Mari floating along in the haze of budding love. They spent their time together practicing spars, magic, and getting to know each other. They were surprised to find how similar they were in many areas, their compatibility lending ease to their relationship. But one day Jay told her he’d left his responsibilities far too long, and he had to get back to them. With those words, their breakable heaven shattered into pieces.

“I’d ask you to come, but…”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t work out,” she agreed.

“It’s better this way.”

“Yep. Stay safe, Jay.”

“Stay safe, Mari.”

I love you, she thought, but bit her lip instead.

~~~

I love you, she thought, flicking through the photos they’d taken together, the nights she let herself be maudlin.

I love you, she thought, seeing a man in a red hoodie laughing as he played soccer in the street with a few kids.

I love you, she thought, seeing the return of Bruce Wayne’s son, Jason Todd, from the dead, which had apparently been a cover for WITSEC. 

I love you, she thought, following the Red Hood to the Batcave, conveniently under Wayne Manor.

I love you, she thought, dressing to the nines in a type of outfit she’d never thought she’d wear.

I love you, she thought, watching Jason’s eyes flash with annoyance as a girl tried to flirt with him while he got a drink from the bartender at the gala they were both at.

“I love you,” she said, gliding up to him in rescue. She’d meant to say Hello, but it was too late now, so she smiled. “Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

A slow smile took over his face as he looked up and saw her. 

“Only if you agree that the worst thing you’ve ever heard is this: I. Love. You.”

“Looks like we’re in agreement, then.”

“All the best agreements are sealed-”

“-With a kiss?”

“We’re in agreement again, it seems.”

And then they agreed for a third time to stop talking and instead tell each other in a different way how much they’d missed the other. 

[delirious-donna]

C and M would be interesting to see for Naruto? ^-^ 💛

NSFW Alphabet [Naruto Uzumaki]

an: bestie, for you, anything! I shall deliver you some spicy Naruto goodness, let me feed your beautiful soul! ^^

Masterlist

C - Cum

Naruto loves to watch you swallow his thick load.

His hips always pull back to see his creamy seed coating your tongue until the pink is entirely hidden. He'll ask you to swallow on a guttural groan, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling into his skull as you do as commanded, flickering your tongue out to show your good work.

Whiskered cheeks a pretty soft pink, he'll grab your face and kiss you until you are both breathless. He doesn't care that he can taste his lingering cum in your mouth, if honest, he kinda likes it.

You'd say his taste is definitely unique, bitter and overpowering but not unpleasant. Naruto certainly packs a punch and when you had first sucked him off, you were startled by how much cum he produced.

"Fuck, sweetheart. Take it all, my best girl," he purred to you, fingers laced in the depths of your hair as he shuddered and shook.

The sunshine boy really has a thing about not wasting cum, he'll paint your clenching walls pure white but he'll fight to keep it in either until he was ready for another round or you convinced him to move - not an easy feat.

When it comes to eating out your sweet little pussy - as he likes to refer to it - he is sloppy. Perhaps it was from all the ramen he slurped over the years but he could not go down on you without him ending up with your slick covering his mouth and chin.

He really had a way with his mouth, alternating between lips that formed a perfect suction around your aching clit and his velvet tongue lapping at your folds.

One orgasm is never enough, Naruto enjoys forcing multiple releases from you to the point you'd worry about his poor jaw, but he doesn't seem to mind.

His large hands hold your thighs against the mattress, your useless attempts at trying to close them are futile given how strong he is, all whilst he eats you out like a man sitting before his last meal.

M - Motivation

Attention - pure and simple.

Naruto was starved of basic affection and attention as a child, ostracised from the village for something he had no control over. He might be a man now, hailed a war hero and saviour of the entire world but he remembered the feeling of being alone, well.

Want to turn the blonde-haired God into putty in your hand? Simply give him your undivided attention.

It can be as easy as listening to him when he has had a long stressful day, offering advice when appropriate and helping him verbally annihilate those that have pissed him off that day.

Naruto can't truly put into words how it makes him feel - the warmth that invades his chest and makes him rub absently at the spot over his heart.

Add in some tactile attention and the Uzumaki will purr like your very own kitten.

So it might have been a few days since you last tangled in the sheets, he has been very busy and you don't blame him for falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow but it's time for some loving.

Spend the entire day with him, even if he has to work, you tag along and lend a hand in the best way you know how. He might be Hokage now but you can lighten his load every now and then.

Naruto is none the wiser to your ploy until it is much too late. His skin tingles with every brush of the pads of your fingers along his shoulders and arms. His throat feels dry and scratchy when you bend over to stack some files that lay discarded on the floor, his head tipped to the side as he glazes over at your round ass swaying from side to side. His pants are uncomfortably tight on his body as if the fabric was shrinking on his frame, as you lean over to pour him another cup of tea.

Do you know he can see straight down your top, and why the hell are you not wearing a bra?

He is going to bring you into the office more often if this is the end result, you hidden under the desk, sucking on his sensitive dick whilst Shikamaru goes over the afternoon's agenda.

"Hey, wasn't y/n here earlier?" he asks suddenly.

Naruto jumps and almost chokes you completely on his length. You are already drooling around the edges of your mouth, trying desperately to keep your actions quiet but it's so hard when you wanna moan about how good he tastes.

"Oh... she - she went out to run an errand," Naruto replies, ending on a high-pitched squeal as you chose that exact moment to cup his balls.

"Uh-huh."

Shika ain't buying it, but he is too damn tired to push the matter further.

He finally leaves. The second the door snicks shut, the practically vibrating Uzumaki is yanking up from your hiding spot, gripping your slobbery mess of a chin in his tight grip with red flecks peeking through the blue of his eyes.

"You're gonna pay for that, brat!"

And pay you do, but it was worth every second, and you'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Naruto deserves all your attention for now and forever.

[twilight-orchid]

How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy ​ who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing. 

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered. 

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word. 

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend. 

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost. 

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.  

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls. 

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost. 

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do. 

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology. 

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first. 

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision. 

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you. 

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life. 

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler. 

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task. 

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity. 

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake. 

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this. 

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond. 

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders. 

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile. 

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon: 

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong. 

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave. 

He’s absolutely furious with himself. 

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish. 

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you. 

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself. 

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act. 

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list. 

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again. 

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over. 

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you. 

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet. 

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely. 

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed. 

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case. 

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude. 

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading! 

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As the summer comes to a close, Spencer and Y/N start feeling a shift in their relationship. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, thigh riding, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, breeding kink, one line of daddy kink,  Word Count: 4.3k exactly, love how that turned out lol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Thank you all for sticking with me through this long wait, I feel so bad for having to keep putting it off. But I’m very proud of where this ended up, and I’m so glad you’ve all been so excited about it! I had so much fun writing this story, so again, thank you very much for reading and indulging me in this weird fantasy lolol ❤ Love you guys! And, as always, thank you to the lovely Em ( @boldlyvoid ) for being my beta for this series! Your feedback and support has been a big help from the start, ILY

———

AUGUST 12th

"I don't wanna hear a single word, understand?"

Not like I have a choice; As soon as the harsh whisper leaves Spencer's mouth, his hand is covering my own and my back is being pressed up against the wall of the storage closet.

But that's all he does. I wait for him to make a move, but instead he insists on being a tease.

"What? You've been trying to get my attention all night, and now that you have it, you're not gonna do anything with it?"

"I want you to do it for me," I mumble into his hand.

He shoves me harder into the wall and slots his knee in between my legs, spreading them apart and making me sigh.

"You wanted it so bad... So take it..."

Watching the amusement dance through his features as I grind down on his leg and whine into his mouth only excites me more, right next to the knowledge that downstairs the house is congested with people visiting to celebrate my mom's new promotion at work.

Needless to say, it doesn't take me very long to start feeling my stomach tense. My hips are wild as they roll over his leg, whines spewing from my mouth and into his hand. I look up into his eyes, doing my best to show him how much I could never grow tired of this, and he returns the favor by lifting his leg higher and giving me more friction.

In no time at all, I'm shuddering against him, feeling his hand press harder into my mouth to muffle the high-pitched whines that I can't help but expel.

"Nice and quick... Good girl..." Spencer muses, slowly peeling himself away from me. "You're really looking forward to being spoiled later, aren't you..."

The grin that spreads over my face is unwavering. "Definitely. Knowing Mom, she'll be passed out cold in like an hour."

I know I'm the one who brought her up, but it still stings a little when Spencer smiles fondly. "Yeah, she's a lightweight alright... You sure you can handle all this time without me until then?"

Despite the butterflies I get when he says it, mischievous and downright delectable, his hands reach out to grab my waist and pull me closer to him, I roll my eyes. "You underestimate me."

He studies my face for a moment, a pretty smile flashing before me in the dim light before he kisses my cheek. "Sure."

And when he leaves, I wait.

Minutes later, my skin still burns from his touch.

———

The moment my eyes open the next morning, it all comes back in flashes.

His lips are on my skin, travelling lower and lower...

His hands trail all over my body, featherlight in a way that leaves me with goosebumps.

His tongue starts slow, taking its time to taste me and savor every precious second.

His voice is like the sweetest prayer, whispering praises that leave my head dizzy and my heart pounding.

His lips languidly open and close around the most sensitive parts of my body, in tandem with that sweet, magnificent tongue as each action pulls sighs from the very depths of my soul.

His hands reach up and tangle with mine as he makes me come on his tongue, over and over again until I'm practically numb and the lull of sleep drags me under.

His hands now ghost over my bare skin, along my sides and down to my waist. I hum happily and push back against him when I feel it.

He's hard.

"How long before you think she wakes up?" he whispers in my ear.

"Not long... Maybe we... shouldn't risk i—"

The words fall off a cliff, never to be seen again when he slowly enters me, gripping my leg and forcing it over his own. "I'll be quick."

I can tell, though, that he doesn't want to be. It's present in the way he enters me, over and over with motions that feel rather stunted and definitely too rushed.

"Baby, no," I whine, reaching behind me to hold his hips still with one hand. "Fuck me slow... Don't rush..."

"But... Your mom..."

"Please..."

Spencer sighs, though not from exasperation. No, his breath is long and teeming with relief, hands gently roaming over the entirety of my body as his hips move slower. He's taking his time, relishing every second and feeling me gradually get more slick at his undoing.

His lips are on my neck, not providing marks to match the ones hidden on the inside of my thighs and my chest, but merely resting there. He kisses me in between gentle thrusts, letting out small whimpers of his own when I clench tightly around him.

This...

This is different.

We've had slow morning sex before, but never like this. Somehow, I find myself drifting, like I'm being carried away by his current. There's nothing but me, Spencer, and our breathing... Our bodies, our air, our souls...

This is what I imagine making love feels like.

Which is why I barely notice when it slips from my mouth— Three words that should feel more daunting due to the weight they hold and the way they ultimately change everything. And yet, whispering “I love you,” in a nearly breathless string of syllables feels incredibly natural. It’s more sincere than anything I think I’ve ever told him, so much so that I don’t even think about what it will mean in the long-run. Instead I let it fall from my lips again and again without regret or consequence.

He doesn't stop, either. Spencer continues to fuck me softly, like it's all he knows how to do. In fact, my confession only seems to make him relax more.

And that's what finally pushes me over the edge.

His name escapes my mouth in a whisper that sounds more like a plea not to leave, and he holds me closer to him. Our bodies are flush together, my back resting perfectly against his chest as he takes a few final thrusts and empties himself inside of me.

If we stayed like that forever, I could die happy.

And actually, that wouldn't be far from the truth, given that if we did stay here forever, my mom would certainly find us and kill us.

The thought makes me sigh.

"You have to leave..."

"I know..."

Spencer pulls me closer, squeezing me tight and giving me a long, bold kiss on the jaw before he rips himself away and takes my heart with him.

AUGUST 18th

Things are significantly different now.

After the morning I let slip that I love him, Spencer and I had been intimate once. We found ourselves alone while Mom was at the grocery store and instinctually came together.

It was quick, and it was fast and rough, and while it obviously felt good, something was off. But I knew it wasn't a physical problem. Like I said, it felt as good as any other time we'd been together, but it just wasn't right.

I hate it.

It hasn't even been a week since then, and I miss him. I miss our dynamic, and I miss the way I used to feel when he touched me.

So I stalk into the office and lean against the doorframe, watching Spencer as he goes through a large pile of paperwork. His hands and his eyes are moving at near light-speed, and the way he concentrates almost makes me feel bad for my intrusion—Honestly, I could have looked at him all damn day.

But there's a bigger plan in mind.

"What'cha up to?"

He looks up and greets me with a smile. "School starts in a few weeks. I'm just trying to get my coursework prepared."

"Oh... You... mind if I keep you company?"

"Not at all."

It's an innocent enough exchange, though I'm hoping I can change that. Mom doesn't get off work for another few hours, so it gives me ample time to do what I have planned.

I walk over and nudge his leg with my knee, and he lets me in. I climb on his lap, and after giving me a brief kiss on the cheek he returns to going through his paperwork.

My face turns and I nestle it into his neck. He hums softly when I kiss the skin under his jaw, once, and then twice, and then over and over in quick succession.

I can feel him smile. "What are you up to, princess?"

Hearing the nickname return in earnest makes me smile. I nip softly at his neck and run my tongue along it. "Mmm, trouble."

"Sounds like you," he mutters through a sultry sigh once I start going lower, kissing the top of his shoulder.

I slide my hands up the front of his chest and gently undo the top button, giving me access to more skin. "You love it when I make trouble..."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about that."

I slide off his lap then, crouching between his legs and looking up at him with a smile. "Really?"

All he does is look down at me, his pupils growing bigger by the second. So I continue my venture, sliding my hands up the insides of his legs until I reach the belt. "So you don't love when I do this?"

Spencer sighs, helping me by lifting his hips a little and letting me slide down layers of fabric until his dick is right in front of me.

I don't waste any time, taking him in my hand and bringing him to my mouth. He's still not entirely hard yet, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I let out a happy sigh just before I press kiss after kiss along the entire length of him. From base to tip, I take my time kissing and licking along the salty skin and giving him my full attention. I pull back and admire him, I smile, I kiss and I lick and I squeeze him with my hand... And when he's finally nice and hard, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

"Y/N..."

I hum around him, sinking further down until he hits the back of my throat, and then I come back up and repeat. It's slow. Maybe torturous even, but really I don't mean it to be.

Thankfully Spencer seems to be happy with my speed and technique; His eyes are on the verge of closing and his chest is heaving slowly, fingers gently caressing the sides of my face as I go down on him.

It's this same slow, steadying pace we'd taken before, and it's exactly what we needed.

I can feel his touch on my face, burning into my skin and marking me for all eternity. Likewise, the thick, throbbing weight of his cock sliding over my tongue and down my throat feels just like home— Like it's right where we're meant to be.

Once again, we fit together perfectly.

This epiphany sets a fire deep in the pits of my stomach, and just like that our spark is back again.

I look up and catch his eye, and he lets me keep it, forcing himself to keep his eyelids open to watch me. My pace remains consistent and slow, and and he brings both of his hands under my chin. The way he holds my face is so gentle, so loving and sensual that I nearly burst with tears at the sentiment alone, and it doesn't take long for him to start letting go.

He stutters my name when he comes, still using the pads of his nimble fingers to caress my throat. I take in and swallow each rope of cum until it's gone, and even then I keep him in my mouth, gently bobbing my head up and down just for the sake of feeling him inside me somehow.

But then he lifts me off of him and his dick falls limp in his lap. I sigh and lean down, kissing it a few times before just resting my head in his lap as he strokes my hair.

"You're right," Spencer says after a few moments.

"About what?"

"I do love when you make trouble."

We laugh, and I lift my head to look up at him.

"I know... It's your favorite."

"That it is, princess."

AUGUST 26th

I wish more than anything that this orientation would just end. My left foot is anxiously tapping the cool white tile of the floor as I wait to be next in line to grab my paperwork and get on my way— To home for what I'm sure will be a long weekend trying to find free minutes to steal with Spencer.

In another life it might have gotten tedious and painful sneaking around for so long, but I found it excited me. Sure, my feelings for Spencer were growing at an exponential rate, but ever since I visited him in our home office, we seemed to be getting back our groove— With an added flair I might add...

Each time we were together was more intense than the last. His hands got more possessive, his kisses got deeper and more passionate, and the way he looked at me?

I could swear I felt him falling just as deep as I was.

The smile it all brought to my face in that moment fell a little short when they called me next in line, and I fell into a joyful step forward to collect my things.

When I get home, though, things aren't as joyful.

The first thing I notice is that Spencer's car isn't in the driveway or even on the street. He's usually here on weekends, so I wonder if he's out for something, or even out with my mom on a lunch date or something.

I try not to think about that thought too much and step inside, hoping to at least enjoy the silence for a little while, lest they really are out together.

I think I'm out of the woods when I hear the television, a laugh track of some kind, but then it turns into the Friends theme blaring through the speakers, and my heart nearly falls into the pit of my stomach.

There's only one reason Mom would be watching Friends. She swears up and down that she hates it, but it always ends up on TV when there's one specific thing she's going through, because "Hearing them complain about their stupid problems make me feel better about my own!"

Her own problem being a breakup.

For a moment I wonder if maybe Spencer had told her about us. Or maybe she found something somehow that would give us away. I make my way slowly through the space until I reach the living room, my brain making up every possible horrendous outcome— Not even to prepare for the blow, because I know that absolutely nothing could prepare me for the wrath of my mother in any situation... I simply can't help myself from feeling guilty and heartbroken as my stomach churns and my heart beats so loud I can barely hear the TV anymore.

When I come into her view, Mom freezes and lets out a large breath of shaky air. The small tub of ice cream in her hands shakes just as much, and I can tell she's trying her hardest not to burst into tears.

I've never seen her this upset before. Normally it's just anger and annoyance, but this time she looks utterly broken.

"M—Mom?" I stutter, even though she probably can't even hear what I'm saying over the TV. I still don't know if she knows about my involvement with Spencer, but I feel like she'd be more angry with me than sad, so I figure it's safe to come closer.

The moment I take a step forward, she sets the ice cream on the floor and opens her arms to me, a choked sob forcing its way out. It almost makes me cry, just seeing her this heartbroken, and in an instant I'm running to her and snuggling into her side as she hugs me.

"What happened?" I will myself to ask, even though I still have no idea what it means for me. Maybe that's selfish, but if he's taking himself out of Mom's life, surely that has to mean he's removing himself from mine as well, right? And if he's just leaving without saying anything... God, that would ruin me, too.

Still, I wait to hear what Mom will say.

"He broke up with me," is all she says, through a long and tired sigh. She mutes the TV and then holds me tighter. I can feel that there's pure sadness controlling her every movement, and it crushes me.

"Why?"

"I don't know, he just... He said he didn't love me, and he wasn't feeling it anymore."

"That's all?"

"Uh huh... It was so sudden, too, like... I thought we were really getting along, and I just... I don't understand how he couldn't feel it... I felt all of it, and he just... He felt nothing. How could he feel nothing?"

I really don't know what to say anymore... It seems to me like Spencer really told her the truth and ended their relationship because he didn't feel anything for her anymore, but... I always knew he had to have felt something... I guess I just didn't realize someone could fall out of it so quickly.

The guilt overwhelms me then, when it dawns on me that I made him fall out of it so fast. I was there, taking up small moments of his time until, eventually, I'd taken up so much of it that it wasn't just his time I was stealing, but also his love. His fire, and his passion... Month by month, day by day, I was draining the love he had for my mom and distilling it to meet my own desires.

And now, here I am, in my mothers arms as she weeps over a man she truly loved, all because he and I were selfish and treasonous.

If Spencer decides he still wants to be with me after this, I really don't know if I could do it. Even after all this time... After all this trouble and guilt and glorious treason...

He could never really be mine.

———

Y/N,

I knew this day would come from the moment I met you. Of course, I didn't know how far my feelings would take me, but in the end I knew I would one day have to leave you and your mother behind.

Day by day my feelings for you grew stronger, and it wasn't until you told me you loved me that August Thirteenth that I realized I loved you, too. What we had was always dangerous, but by then my heart was focused solely on you, and I could feel your mother slipping from my grasp.

I pretended for as long as I could, but now you've taken up so much space in my brain that when Eve pulled me near, I almost sighed out your name instead. I knew then that no longer could I "keep up appearances," as I often like to tell you.

Maybe one day you and I can find our way back to each other, but for now, I think it's for the very best that we go our separate ways.

In my wildest dreams I will think of you fondly, and I can only hope that you might do the same.

Always Yours, Spencer

JUNE 19th, SEVEN YEARS LATER

There are so many things I'm thinking about when I come home tonight.

One: I'm a little tipsy and completely fucked out, which reminds me of that night I came home in the exact same state, only to find my mom's old boyfriend, Spencer, unable to sleep and to stop staring at my bare legs. The memory brings a smile to my face.

Two: My feet fucking hurt and I want to get these goddamned shoes off.

Three: The ghost of Spencer's smile when he saw me for the first time in seven years burns in the back of my mind, right next to the ghost of his hands caressing my skin like it had been the first time.

Four: How am I going to spend the rest of the summer back in town knowing what it feels like to have fucked him at all without an ounce of guilt attached to it?

Five: Am I going to tell my mom that I slept with her ex-boyfriend tonight?

Six: Fuck, I'm hungry...

My heels come off as soon as I step through the door.

The light is on, and I can hear Mom laughing in the kitchen with Adam from far away, which brings a fond smile to my face. I'm glad that she's finally happy, with someone who doesn't make me want to fall to my knees, thank you very much.

And truthfully, if I hadn't ran into Spencer at all tonight, I'm not sure I ever would have thought about that whole situation again— It was fucked up, he ended up leaving both of us, and Mom was so deeply devastated after their breakup that I didn't have the heart to tell her I missed him too. I just buried it deep down and tried to move on right alongside her, eventually erasing his memory from my mind, body, and soul.

Well, almost.

There were days, obviously, where his letter hummed inside my pillowcase where he left it, whether I brought it to college or kept it at home, or it sat soundly in my new apartment. His words were always there, spilling into my dreams and dancing with me through our memories; tangled tongues and limbs, wild nights and passionate mornings...

I'd wake up feeling hot to the touch and missing him completely.

Thankfully those days were few and far in between, and for a while I'd stopped thinking of him altogether.

But of course, it turns out that Spencer Reid is in fact, pretty damn inevitable.

That bar downtown was packed, so it was a wonder I'd even ran into him of all people in the first place. What he was doing there I didn't know. And neither do I now, because from the moment we laid eyes on each other, it was this constant state of shell-shock and fire, nothing else. He asked briefly about Mom, I told him she'd been married for four years, and then he joked about how he was surprised I hadn't tried to steal him from her.

Naturally, with that ever so playful look in his eye practically taunting me, I played to his joke and responded with a sultry smile, "The only one I ever wanted to steal was you, Doctor..."

The rest wasn't exactly a blur, but all I'm going to say is that we spent the rest of our time together at his apartment, "catching up on lost time"... And as much as I'd grown out of the submissive role sexually over the years, I found myself crawling back, submitting to him like I'd done it a million times over. And, really, I might as well have.

It's like we'd never stopped.

That being said, I declined his offer to stay the night and told him to give me a call some time before I left to go back to Seattle. Though, not without giving him a thousand goodbye kisses that were rather counterproductive.

Thinking about it makes my cheeks burn hot, though thankfully it's summer, and Mom won't have to question it. Though, if she does, I suppose I could keep it short and sweet and tell her the truth at the very least: that I met up with an old friend who showed me a good time.

"Hey'a, Sweetpea," she greets with a bright wave. She and Adam are obviously a little tipsy, more than me by the looks of it, but I pay it no mind. "How was you're night?"

"Great! Went to a few bars downtown, met up with some friends..."

"Oh, good, well we're glad you got back safe."

I snag a bottle of water and an apple from the fridge, then turn back around to see Mom and Adam snuggled in, sharing a smile that would make even the happiest person on the planet sick to their stomach.

Oddly enough, it reminds me of back then, when she was with Spencer, happier than ever and completely oblivious to what was going on in her daughter's life.

The thought makes my stomach flutter, taking me back to earlier in the night when he had his hands tangled in my hair and his mouth attached to my skin, spewing filthy words and praises that had me begging for more...

"I missed you, princess," he whispers, holding himself deep inside me. His fingers brush the matted hair from my face, revealing more of my saccharine smile and eyes that swim with mischief.

"I missed you too," I whine, reaching out and grabbing handfuls of his ass, shoving him even farther inside me and wrapping my legs around him tighter. "...Daddy..."

Spencer loses all semblance of cool, pulling back and slamming into me with full force. I—

"Y/N?"

I blink away his memory, reminding myself of where I am and what I'm doing, finding Mom looking at me with a curious gleam in her eye.

"What are you thinking about?"

With a small smile, I nod in her direction. "Oh, uh... You'll never believe who I ran into tonight."

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):  @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @ssacalumsg0lden @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17​ @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrews @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[hyunnows]

SOME PEOPLE | KTH

PAIRING(s): Taehyung x reader, Dowoon of day6 x reader

RATING: pg13

WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

CONTENT/WARNINGS: unrequited love, friends to strangers, angst, unhealthy friendship, lowkey toxic Taehyung, swearing, pretty minor fluff and happy memories mentioned, university!au

SUMMARY: You’ve been Taehyung’s best friend for a while, in love with him from the sidelines as he chases after others. You’ve always given him a hundred percent, while he’s struggled to give you more than twenty-five. After all this time, you finally realize that while you were once “best friends”, he’s never been your “best” friend.

A/N: my submission to the anti-romance collab hosted by @rockwithwoo and @astramoonchild <3 I put so much effort and p a i n into this fic so i really hope you all enjoy! please make sure to go check out the other fics that are a part of this collab!!! there are so many amazing, talented that took part! i hope you enjoy, possibly find both pain and comfort in this fic and have a great day/night! Back to the fic, thank you to my lovely betas who I couldn't have written this so well without 🥺💜 @starry-paris, @nightshadevinter, @mochajoon, @sunshinejunghoseokie, you were all so encouraging and helpful throughout this process and I'm incredibly grateful for your help <3 Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this!

Teaser

YOU COULDN’T REACH THE TOP SHELF, struggling on your toes to grab at the air around the book you needed to complete your research. Groaning, you lowered yourself back onto the flat floor, about to turn away and give up when a warmth engulfed your back, one long, toned arm reaching from behind you to pull down the book you’d been reaching at for the past five minutes.

You turned to face the stranger, holding in a gasp when you met his piercing gaze. He was devastatingly handsome—gorgeous, even.

The tall stranger loomed over you, a friendly yet flirty grin on his lips as he handed you the book. “Hi, I’m Taehyung. You needed this?”

Calming your restless heart, you reached for the leather cover, his rough but still gentle hands gracing your own briefly during the interaction. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung. Thanks for helping me out, can I repay you?”

“No problem! As for payment… I could use a study buddy,” he offered, a bright and hopeful gleam in his dark mahogany eyes. You nodded, holding back your own beam as the two of you began your trek to find a table. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“[Y/N].”

“Well, [Y/N],” he started, his voice luscious and deep. “I hope I can get to know you.”

That’s how it all started, your beloved friendship with Kim Taehyung.

The two of you became inseparable over the months, swapping secrets and trading tragedies in the depths of night. Now you’ve known each other for a solid seven months, comfortable enough to call yourselves best friends.

Friends.

Another crucial development throughout the time you’ve been friends is that you’ve grown feelings that are a bit more than friendly.

Taehyung, as you’ve learned, is naturally bright and affectionate. He always manages to make you laugh, simultaneously making your heart jump every time he opens that dumb, perfect mouth. His warmhearted, firm hugs did you no favors in stopping you from falling further for his charms either.

Not to mention his innate flirtatious behavior. Taehyung has a charisma to himself, one that draws people to him, whether they like it or not. You have the pleasure of being one of his more willing victims, always playing along with his teasing until one of you gave out from embarrassment, which is usually you.

But you never mind his ways of affection, always ready to accept whatever he’s willing to give.

Taehyung groans, slinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him. “I don’t want to study, can’t we just cuddle and watch a movie? Maybe do something else…?” His brows bounce as he trails off, implying something a bit more than friendly, a light smirk playing at his lips. Rolling your eyes, you shove him off, making him pout in defeat. “C’mon [Y/N], I don’t even need this class, why do I have to study for it?”

You hand him the aged, dusty book that was previously tucked under your arm. “Because there’s no point in failing. Plus, you need to get into a better study habit.”

Taehyung’s dedicated to his work, he really is, but he just doesn’t have the right policy when it comes to academic work. Usually, you just give him the answers he needs when he needs them, sometimes the full assignments if you can, but you’re beginning to tire of constantly having to do all your work on your own just for Taehyung to slack off. Besides, it’s better if he learns to do the work for himself. He’s not too happy about it though, trudging to the creaky old desk in the corner of the library—where you’d studied when you first met.

The library has a lingering smell of cinnamon and tea tree oil, one you find most comforting. On late nights you find yourself wandering to the back for a good book, earbuds plugged in to drown out your personal sorrows. It’s old, worn carpet always crinkles quietly beneath your weight, and the chairs have a certain texture from years of use that grazes your soft fingers in just the right way whenever you hold their wooden frames.

The seat cushion wheezes quietly under you whilst you sit yourself down, shaking your head at him. “I’m not always going to be there to help you cheat, Taehyung.” His deep voice mimics yours childishly under his breath. “And I’m not going to do all the work for you this time.”

“I know, I know.” He mutters, frowning and flipping the old publication open, coughing dramatically at the bits of dust that fall off the leather covers. “Y’know, when I said I liked smart girls, I didn’t mean this.”

“Gee, thanks bestie,” tossing him a glare, his implication of you being boring and not his hot fantasy type chipping at your self esteem. Unfortunately, you can’t say that you didn’t mean him whenever you’ve said you liked dorks.

He lets out a quiet laughter, ruffling your hair until it’s too messy for anyone to develop a secret crush on you during this library visit. “I’m kidding. You know you’re exactly my type. So smart and beautiful.” His words make your cheek burn, so you hide them in your hands, only eliciting a wide grin from him at your flustered state. “You’re so cute.”

“Stop flirting with me and read.”

“It’s so hard to focus on the book when you’re right next to me,” he witness pathetically, “We could totally be making out—”

You scowl at him playfully, cheeks aflame. “You’re gross.” Your feigned joyful tone masking the pain he brings you with every tease. But, that’s just how Taehyung is. Blunt, occasionally obnoxious, and unapologetically coquettish. It’s what made you fall for him in the first place.

“What? It’s not my fault my best friend is literally a perfect human. Not to mention, my favorite one.” He says halfheartedly, part of him meaning it and the other part just being a sweet best friend. “On the topic of how amazing you are, what are you studying? Didn’t you switch electives?”

“Oh, yeah. I switched to photography, but I might take up art next semester…” You trail off the moment you notice you don’t have his attention, the new library assistant now the center of his undivided attention. Chest burning, you sigh, lowering your focus back to the article you’d been reading before his affectionate behavior started. “You should go talk to her.”

He doesn’t even seem to hear you, already scooting out of his chair to approach the slim figure leaning against the shelves elegantly.

“You should really start getting over him.” Jimin advises, flipping onto your bed theatrically, phone in hand as he scrutinizes your taste in men. “He doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend.”

You jump on top of him, your back pressed against his and arms spread to your side like a starfish, making him gasp for air under you. “I know, but I can’t. He just makes me feel special. You know?”

Rolling you off him, Jimin gives you a look of disbelief. “[Y/N], he makes everyone feel like that. Especially the girls he ditches you for.”

“It’s not like that…”

Oh, but it is exactly like that. Taehyung has a talent for making people love him, getting them to absolutely crave for his attention because it just feels so good when they have it. And, like everyone else, you’ve fallen victim to his endearing ways. Honestly, with all the time you spend with him, you’d be more surprised if you weren’t in love with him.

Tonight you’re definitely one of his moths, him the light you’re all drawn to, begging to touch even at the risk of being burned. Unfortunately, you’ve already been burned, even this early into the night.

You two had been dancing, laughing the night away when Taehyung was stolen by a foxy physics major, leaving you to your one woman wiggle of loneliness.

He’s like a raccoon, you think, distracted by beautiful, shiny objects far too easily—and oh so lucky for you, you’re rusty and dim. Jimin’s right with how he makes everyone feel special. You're becoming aware of this more and more. The girl looks at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky, just for her—a feeling you’re too familiar with. His gaze is solely trained on her, and at the moment, she’s his world.

But later that same night, he’s leaning on your shoulder as you help him waddle to your car, drunkenly muttering how beautiful you are and how great you smell. His eyes are mostly closed, but he still manages to peek through his tired lids, pupils trained on you.

You’ve always known Taehyung wasn’t the most reliable friend in your life. He’s always running late, rarely has his priorities straight, and never remembers to show up when he’s supposed to. All qualities you once found eccentric and cute, now are inconveniences for you.

Foot tapping against the ground, you try to ignore the echoing steps that grow increasingly louder the closer his frame gets to you. You try not to shiver at the breeze that his abrupt stop blows against you, your soaked clothes clinging impossibly tighter around your icy figure.

He huffs in front of you, his hair lightly damp from the now light sprinkle outside. “[Y/N] I’m sor—”

“You’re late.”

He licks his lips, eyes big and guilty, like they always are when he forgets about his responsibilities and promises. Opening his mouth several times, he finally manages to force something out, in a gentle, pathetic whisper. “I’m sorry, I know I really messed up, but I’ll make it up to you—”

You ignore him, walking past him towards the parking lot doors, clutching your arms around yourself silently. Your teeth chatter, only stopping momentarily because you grit them at the sensation of his jacket draping over your shoulders.

You stop in front of his car, pulling at the handle wordlessly, one hand weekly pulling his jacket tighter around you. As much as you don’t want to accept it, especially because it absolutely reeks of his date cologne and his date’s cologne, you can’t keep shivering from the chilliness of wet clothes.

He hastily unlocks the vehicle, reaching to open your door for you, but to no avail as you swing it open and climb inside, secretly thankful he’d been running the heater and simultaneously ticked that he had been enjoying warmth while you were suffering in the cold rain.

Taehyung climbs into the driver’s side, hands nervously gripping the wheel as he glances from you to your clothes to the long forgotten lipgloss of his date. With a deep inhale, he fails to hide his frown. “I’m so sorry. [Y/N], you know I didn’t mean to forget, I just got caught up—”

“On your date, right? Because some random girl is more important than your best friend. Don’t worry, I get it.” You hiss out, crossing your arms and leaning against the water-stained window. Disappointedly, you sigh. “It’s not fair. I always make sure you have what you need when you need it, regardless of whether it's money, cheat sheets, clothes, whatever! But, the one time I need your help, you forget about me because of a date.”

“I said I was sorry…”

Lip trembling, you furrow your brows. “Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, Taehyung. Sorry won’t make my clothes dry. Sorry isn’t gonna stop me from being sick tomorrow. Sorry doesn’t do anything.” Your voice breaks in the middle, but you can’t seem to let everything out. You don’t feel the comfort or safety that would normally let you open up to Jimin or any of your other friends. “Just take me home.” He complies, shutting up and turning the heat higher in hopes that you’ll stop shivering.

Sorry doesn’t cut it… but maybe the homemade soup, medicine, and brand new weighted blanket do.

Jimin’s eyes roll back, displeased to see Taehyung at your door, get well soon package in hand and a shameful expression painted on his face. “She said I could come over to pick up some notes…” The taller boy mumbles, abashed that even with all the trouble he caused you, you still prepared what he needed, just as you said. “I’ll leave after I make it right.”

“You hurt her, I’ll hurt you.” Is all your roommate grumbles out before stepping aside and letting the slightly unwelcome guest into your humble abode. “You know where her room is.”

A gentle knock sounds at your door, but your head feels too tight for you to do anything about it besides blow into another tissue. “Jimin I don’t want to talk about it—”

“I’m not Jimin…” He murmurs, eyes failing to meet yours from the guilt pitted in his stomach. “Before you kick me out, I just wanted to give you these. This is soup, your mom’s recipe, some cough and flu medicine my grandma used to use when I got sick, and a weighted blanket because I know how much you’ve been wanting one.”

He flinches as you hack loudly, eyes red and puffy, struggling to focus on his face. “How did you get in here? We changed,” you choke out another cough, “we changed the locks last week and I haven’t given you a key yet.”

Trying not to smile, he mumbles. “I might’ve told Jimin you knew I was coming. In my defense, I just wanted to give these to you in person and apologize again, although I know that apologies don’t do much…”

His head hangs low as his voice fades away, and you can’t help but shake your head at him. “I’m not mad anymore Taehyung. I’m sorry for overreacting yesterday, I was just upset.”

“I get why. I’m not reliable or a good friend, really. I don’t know why you keep me around.” He chuckles a bit, setting the things he brought for you on your bed gently before straightening back up. “You deserve a better best friend than me, huh?”

You shake your head. “No, you’re amazing, honestly I don’t think I deserve someone as sweet and thoughtful as you half the time.”

“You’re just saying that.” He laughs, the two of you falling into your usual banter. After a bit, he winds up beside you, the two of you watching an old comedy flick when he leans closer to you, closing his eyes as he leaves a kiss on your head, his lips lingering as he maffles against your skin quietly. “No date is worth more to me than you are, I promise. You’re the most important person to me.” His body gradually begins to shudder against you as a quiet sob leaves his lips. “I’m so sorry…”

Somehow, even when he messes up so grandly, you always end up letting him off the hook, even comforting him when it truly should be the other way around. Your hand rubbing his back to soothe his sadness while nobody’s there to wipe your own silent tears.

“I’m sorry Tae,” you tell him, frowning as he cries into his pillow over his last girlfriend. “Some people, they just aren’t meant to stay.” The words sour on your lips as you recall how head over heels for her he’d been.

Now, early into your fifth year of university, your best friend had been in a serious relationship for about four months, only for it to end with the girl cheating on him. You can’t comprehend why—she had all his time, attention, love, everything. What more could she want?

“I gave her everything…” Oh, I know you did, your heart ripping slowly at his next sentence. “I’ve never loved someone like her. She… she was special.”

Your hands freeze their actions, no longer threading through his thick, wavy hair. Aren’t… aren’t you special? Because that’s how he always made you feel in those fleeting moments where it was just the two of you in the world. That’s what you believed in each of those memories where he was the only one you could see, when you thought you were the sole center of his world.

You thought you understood the pain before, but you were oh so wrong. You should have known better than to think you were exceptional in Taehyung’s eyes. How foolish of you to think that you were any different to him than anyone else.

Pathetic.

Yet you’d fall under his spell again, thinking you were someone more to him than everyone else. Like you always do.

One glance, and you’d be right back where you started.

You know it’s ridiculous to be so malleable by the simplest of actions, but you could never stop yourself from hoping and falling over and over. Especially as he gives you his puppy-like eyes with an irresistible pout. “Please [Y/N], I need this grade.”

“I know you do but i can’t let you wait until the last day and ask for my help anymore. Besides, I have stuff to do.” You pry your eyes off him reluctantly, heart heavy because you know this will bring him down quite a bit, but he’s got to learn to do things on time on his own somehow.

Slender arms wind around your waist, his nose nuzzling your cheek affectionately, his lips still pushed up. “[Y/N], you love me, right? I promise I won’t put my projects off this long again if you help me with this one.”

You know he’s tricking you, lying, using your heart against you. He’s a player—he knows how to bend someone’s will to his bidding. And while you’re fully aware of what's happening to you—you give in like you have so many times before, and like you will many times after this one.

“Fine.”

He pecks your cheek, holding you in a tight embrace with a grin on his face, mumbling and muttering praises against your cheek. “I love you so much, thank you. Really, you’re the best. You’re my favorite person on this Earth, I don't know what I’d do without you.”

And its nice, appreciated even, at the moment. Hearing Taehyung sing your praises and tell you how much you mean to him is all you crave for—but it’s not real, and it won’t last. So you bask in his words and warmth as long as you can.

You’d seen Taehyung leave people behind after he got his fill of them, be it friends or more, he didn’t keep most people around for long. You’ve been one of the lucky few, you suppose, to stay around longer than a month or so. After all these hours, days, months, you thought that he’d never leave you behind. That maybe he wouldn’t get tired of you like everyone else.

But as he avoids your gaze across the university’s literature hall, you realize that was an unrealistic notion your feelings had concocted. He’s got someone new on his mind, staring at her with those adoring eyes you once believed were reserved for you. He’s not concerned with how you feel or what you’ve been up to—he hasn’t been for weeks now, the small talk and short conversations between the two of you practically courtesy now.

“What did I do wrong?” You mumble to yourself, staring at him longingly whilst rewriting some of your notes.

Jimin pats your back, shaking his head. “Girl, I told you, he ain’t shit.” His tone almost makes you crack a smile, the comical edge bringing a bit of joy into your constantly dulling life. “You need to move on, get out more. Taehyung doesn’t have the capacity to give you what you need as a friend or partner.’

“He’s not that bad… I must’ve done something.” You frown, rubbing your left temple stressfully. But maybe Jimin is right. Maybe it’s time for you to get over your former best friend, and fall for someone else. “Just out of curiosity, what’re you thinking of?”

Jimin gives you a gentle yet mischievous smile, pulling out his phone and pulling up a profile on social media. Flipping the mini screen for you to view, you blush as you realize what he’s doing. “This is a friend of mine—well actually he’s a friend of a friend, but I think he’s perfect for you. He’s a complete dork, loves music, animals, and he has a beautiful, deep ass voice. Oh, and get this, he’s a drummer.”

You raise your brow at the rapid-fire profile he gave you, but can’t deny that the guy he’s describing not only sounds perfect, he looks fantastic as well. Cute, soft, and uncharacteristically muscular for someone who looks like he’d never hurt a fly. Damn Jimin and always being right. “What’s his name?”

He tells you everything about this man, well, everything to convince you to go out with him. That he’s sweet, a good listener, adorable, and so on. You think it’s too good to be true, but promise Jimin that you’ll give him a real chance before rejecting him. Which is how you find yourself approaching the same man from the photos in a coffee shop a few days later, tapping his shoulder lightly.

“Yoon Dowoon?” He turns around, eyebrows raised slightly from the startle you gave him moments ago. He puts a hand on his chest, and lets out a light laugh. He nods. “I’m [Y/N]. The person Jimin set you up with.”

He greets you with a polite and gentle hug, one that’s neither formal nor too personal. Just, comfortable and welcoming. “Hi… Wow, you’re even more beautiful in real life.”

You flush, and for the first time in months, you feel like the attention, the focus and car, all of it, is on you. And it feels wonderful.

Your meeting isn’t at all like yours with Taehyung, where you’d learned his entire life story by the end of the day. No, instead, he’s intent on learning about you and your interest, the two of you finding a perfect balance of learning about each other and staying enigmas at the same time. He’s sweet and kind, and he’s passionate about everything he does. He’s already at the door for you before you can attempt to open it, taking your bag and coat and making sure that you know that he wants to do these things for you, that he’s willing to put in as much effort as you, if not more, into having a good relationship with you, no matter what kind.

As cliché as it sounds, Dowoon makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world, despite the many trying to get at him on social media. He doesn’t hesitate to turn them down or reassure you that he’s only interested in you.

And though it may seem petty for you to inwardly focus on, you love his reliability. He’s always got himself together, and he’s always ready to help you in any way you may need. He’s on time, prepared, dependable. Something Taehyung never was.

And speaking of Taehyung, you two haven’t spoken in a while. While you know now that your conversations with him were never too deep—well, not when they were about you—you miss talking about the small, insignificant things you two could once go on for hours about. You miss Taehyung.

So you decide to meet up with him, except it’s unannounced. He doesn’t know you’re meeting up—you’re too afraid of him rejecting to hang out with you, like he rejects your attempts to talk in messages sometimes.

Luckily, being friends with Taehyung meant that you quickly became acquainted with his friends—aka, the people who throw some of the best parties on campus. You usually skip out, only going to a few when you and Taehyung were still thick as thieves to make sure he didn’t drive home drunk, but now you’re going on your own.

Well, on your own with Dowoon.

You’re sure it won’t be much of a problem, considering they never get upset because of unexpected guests or surprise plus ones. All he has to do is show up with her and there shouldn’t be any trouble.

So you dress up, wanting to look nice for your first party with your new boyfriend. You wear a black dress Jimin bought you that you once swore you’d never touch, along with some heels you saved for special occasions.

You’ve got your makeup done, for once not just some foundation and blush, but a nice, full face without being caked up. You even put some effort into your hair, although you know by the end of the night your work would probably be destroyed. All this and your delightful perfume, and you’re stunning.

Dowoon looks incredible too, his outfit not only flattering as heck but not clashing with yours. A faded green button with the top few buttons undone on top of a black t-shirt. He’s sporting some darker khaki chinos, paired with a black belt that matched his black converse. The whole outfit makes him look even taller than he is—not to mention how the shirt makes his build stand out, the material hugging his muscles when he moves.

When you arrive at the dorm, you don’t make a move to look for Taehyung. You’re sure he’s here, so there’s a good chance that you two will bump into each other at some point. Instead, you take your time, enjoying yourself with your boyfriend and dancing until you can’t anymore and you’re ready to have your first drink.

That’s where you find him, leaning against the counter, almost as if he’s guarding the drinks. In reality, he’s probably hoping to run into someone that catches his fancy, but the idea that he would gatekeeper the alcohol makes you giggle a bit.

His back is facing you, so you don’t bother to tap him or anything, opting to just grab a cab from the fridge and hang around. He hears you behind him, and whips around with a slight smirk on his face when he sees you… only it doesn’t seem as if he recognizes you. He’s giving you those same sparkling eyes he gives his weekly dates, not the warm—sometimes, dull—ones you’re used to.

“You look familiar, have we met?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can just barely smell alcohol in his breath. In other words, he’s not drunk yet.

You raise a brow at him, stepping back a bit with a hand on his chest. “Woah there, bud.” A slight chuckle in your voice that becomes a stifled laugh at his shocked expression.

“…[Y/N]? Wow, you look… wow,” he gapes, jaw almost on the ground as he struggles to recover. He’s seen you like this maybe once or twice, but never did you have this affect on him. Licking his lips, he gives a lopsided grin with a glint of mischief in his eye. “Is all this for me?”

You chortle, shaking your head and waving your hands frantically, your cheeks flushed. “No, it’s for my boyfriend. Can I introduce you two?” Face bright with excitement, you fail to notice the way his face falls before he masks it.

Coughing lightly, he musters a fake smile, and nods. “Yeah sure,” he mutters, following behind you, back straightened and shoulders pushed back to seem larger than he is—which you of course don’t see, too busy searching for Dowoon.

Once you find him, Taehyung immediately introduces himself, shaking his hand firmly with his lips in a fine line, the corners barely upturned. Dowoon, sweet and polite as ever, returns the gesture, only he’s more genuine and gentle about it.

When their introductions are finished, you find yourself alone with Taehyung getting another drink, trying to make conversation with him. He’s not interested, not really, only giving small hums and nods here and there so you can’t tell how little attention he’s paying.

You’re not all dolled up beautifully for him. You’re not waiting around for him to give you something to grip onto. Taehyung’s only interested in people interested in him.

If only you knew that when you met, you’d never be stuck in this pool of turmoil.

Taehyung has never been one to ignore you. Sure, he’d avoided you a bit before the party, but he didn’t blatantly ignore you or brush you off, not the way he does now.

After the party, you tried to reach out to him through texting, only to find your number blocked. Then, on social media where he’d also blocked every account of yours, as well as a few others who were close friends of yours he was never too interested in.

Taehyung had cut you off.

Every class he had with you, he sat on the far end, making sure not to meet your eyes not even once. You know he can feel your gaze on the side of his head, burning a hole with curiosity and betrayal.

He said you were best friends. That you were his favorite person.

Then why has he removed you from his life?

You try not to make a deal of things, keeping your questions to yourself, hiding your sadness under a mask. You don’t want your friends to worry, and you don’t want Dowoon to think you’re still into Taehyung. But damn, it hurts and it eats you up inside with the constant wondering of ”what did I do wrong?”

It keeps up this way, until Jimin can’t stand to see you beating yourself up silently anymore. “What’s wrong?”

And you can’t hold it together anymore, shoving your face into your friend’s chest and squeezing him tightly, your lip trembling. “I don’t know what I did, but he blocked me on everything, and ignores me everywhere. I tried to talk to him about it, and he just pretended as if I wasn’t there. What did I do wrong Jimin?”

The dance major strokes your back, hushing your growing sobs while holding in his own anger at the boy you put so much effort in, despite his warnings. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just how he is. Taehyung gets attached to people, makes them think they’re his world, and then throws them aside when he’s tired of them. It’s not your fault, it’s just how he is.”

His words don’t do much to comfort you though, and you find yourself trying to talk to him in person, trying to rekindle any tiny spark between the two of you as friends.

And it’s only after a week or so of trying that you realize how truly right Jimin had been when he warned you about Taehyung. Because while you’re worked up, broken down and beat from this new dynamic—he’s perfectly fine. It’s as if you never existed to him.

He’s got one of his other friends, one prettier than you and more energetic, hanging off his arm. She’s someone you remember feeling jealous of when they first started hanging out, but now you pity her too, because one day she’ll be in your shoes, watching from the sidelines as he moves on without her.

He doesn’t even spare you a glance as his group of friends pushes past you in the halls, like you’re a ghost and nobody can see you.

You always wanted to deny that your friendship was one sided, always arguing to Jimin that Taehyung cared for you just as much as you did him…

But as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller, you know that was never true.

“If he cared, he’d make an effort, [Y/N].”

“I know… it’s just, what if he’s going through a rough time too? I know it’s silly of me to try and justify his behavior, I just…” You trail off, leaning against Dowoon’s shoulder and frowning. “I don’t want to believe that I meant nothing to him. I don’t want to think we were never friends. I just want this to be a phase he’s going through, you know?”

The drummer nods, pulling you close with his large, warm arms that remind you of Taehyung’s when he used to cuddle you on movie nights. “I know what you mean. It’s just, if a rough time was all this was, why would he cut off his best friend? He still talks to all his other friends, you’re the only one he’s truly blocked off.”

You nod, sighing. “Yeah, I know. I just really miss him.” And it’s true. Taehyung may never have been your “best” friend in the sense he was never a truly good friend, but he was who you turned to with your worries and who made you feel valuable for a long time.

You know you shouldn’t have ever relied on being praised and validated by him to feel sufficient, but it was so hard not to when he was the one you wanted to look at you. Now, it’s in your nature to crave that same feeling whenever you see him pass you in the halls or on the courtyard. To crave that feeling when you do something that would’ve made him smirk and wink at you jokingly.

And you crave it so much, along with the need to know why he’s left you in the dust, that you confront him.

It’s in the school’s parking lot that you corner him. You wait by his car, not leaning on it, but hovering very closely as he enters the lot alone, his face pulled in a tight frown when he looks up at you. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t like how he seems so upset, but you ignore that. “I just want to talk, Tae.”

“Well, we’re talking,” he says with an attitude, piercing your heart with each word.

Looking at his shoes, you don’t dare to meet his eyes, you begin. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m going through a tough time right now. I told Jungkook, hasn’t he told you? Or are you too busy hanging out with Dowon or whatever that you haven’t spoken to him yet?”

As he’s hastily getting into the car, you scoff. He’s trying to blame you now? That’s not going to fly with you. “What the hell Taehyung? I haven’t cut anyone off. That’s what you’ve done to me, remember?”

“My mental health isn’t its best right now, so I’m taking some time alone to fix it.” He mutters, face void of any guilt or sadness. “You’re just too depressing to hang out with.”

That hurts. Lip trembling, you fight the ache in your heart. “Did you never think about me? What it would do to me to lose the person I trusted most? Or are you so sick of me that you just didn’t care?”

He shuts his car door, and rolls down the window in front of you, glaring hard. Deadpanning, he growls. “I didn’t care. I still don't.”

“You know, you’re the reason I’m so damn depressing. You’re the one always breaking my heart, and I keep letting you.” You sniffle, crossing your arms and wiping your eyes. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be so much happier. I wouldn’t have longed for someone I couldn’t have for so damn long. I wouldn’t be so choked up over someone who’s never given back half of what I gave them.”

“That’s not my fault, you decided to stay by my side.”

“I know.”

“So leave me alone.”

You have more to say. More that you feel. You want to ask him if he knows how it sucks to not be able to talk about your crush with your best friend. How it hurts to not be able to ask them for advice or turn to them for comfort when things get hard. But you don’t get the chance.

His words ring in your ears like bullets, leaving you shocked, mouth pressing into a thin, trembling line as you step back from his car, eyes watering. Now you know for sure.

Taehyung doesn’t give a shit about you anymore.

“Goodbye Taehyung.” You mutter, mostly to yourself, turning away from his car and shuffling toward the front gates as you dial up someone who actually cares about you.

You barely hear him call a quiet, “Goodbye [Y/N].”

You move on, slowly but surely forgetting the details about Taehyung’s face. You forget each and every wrinkle you knew by heart once. You forget about how he used to talk a little differently than everyone else because of his dialect. How he’d have such creative and unique thoughts in the depths of night. The way he’d flirt whenever he got the chance. You forget him and the impact he once had on you.

Sometimes, when you’re alone in your bed watching reruns of shows you two watched together once—you watched them out of pure enjoyment of the characters now—you have glimpses of memories of your once treasured friendship. You think about them semi-fondly, until you push them out of your mind and try not to wonder if he does the same.

You don’t ask if he’s doing well, and you don’t actively avoid him either. At times, you two even give each other a nod of acknowledgment when you pass by. Maybe even a wave some days. But you don’t care to do any more than that.

Now, you don’t give a shit about him either. You can finally heal.

Jimin, ever so curious in your life, hesitates to ask you whilst you braid his hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but you’ve reassured him countless times that you’re okay, that Taehyung has no importance to you and therefore cannot hurt you. “Would you do it again? Would you still be his friend and go through it all over if you could?”

You tilt your head to the side before realizing what he meant. Releasing his strands of hair, you let out a breath and smile a bit. “We had some really good memories together. Lots of smiles and laughs but, not enough for me to put myself through that again.”

He nods, and pats your shoulder. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out better for you two.” His eyes are remorseful as if he thinks he’s got something to do with it. After all, he always pushed Taehyung away from you, and pulled you away from him. It’s hard to think he didn’t play some role in this.

“Don’t. It’s nobody’s fault. Just…” You fade into a sigh, and give him a tight lipped smile. “Some people, they just aren’t meant to stay.”

Words you’ve uttered before but never realized how true they were. You always thought it a phrase for people you’d never known well or someone who would leave quickly—not someone whose deepest secrets were shared with you, someone you loved and trusted. Passerbys.

You never knew they’d one day describe the person you used to care for most.

[wri0thesley]

Could I get some Gojo face sitting please 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 Maybe with a chubby reader?

fool for love - gojo x reader (2.25k)

gojo asks you to try something, and you can never say no to him. 

(warnings: nsfw, afab reader, fem pronouns (pet names). explicitly chubby reader, mentions of worries about weight/body. cunnilingus/facesitting)

Sometimes you think it’s a good job that you and Satoru Gojo are a couple; you’re absolutely certain that nobody but you would put up with him. You’re totally convinced that you’re the only fool in the world who sees his arrogant smirk and the thrust of his chin and the cocky set of his shoulders, listens to him go on and on about himself and about his work and about his strength, and wants to kiss him instead of kill him.

You do kiss him, coincidentally. A lot. Partly because when he’s kissing you, he’s not running his mouth – partly because the taste of his lips on yours and the feel of his hands on your waist, pulling you in, is addictive. You can’t get enough of him – and luckily, it seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

So when Gojo had thrown out this suggestion, casually, as if he was asking you what you two were going to order for dinner that night (you’ve never seen Gojo make anything more complicated than a ramen cup), it had not taken you long to agree.

Faced with it, though – Gojo situated on the bed, arm stretched over his head, grin on his face – you begin to wonder if maybe it’s such a good idea.

“Don’t back out on me now,” he says, the cocky grin not leaving his face. “I’ve been dying to taste you for hours.”

You shift uncomfortably on the other side of the bed, suddenly horribly aware of the curves of your body. No matter how Gojo’s words send a thrill through you – you know from experience he’s good with his tongue – you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid.

It’s easy to forget the difference between the two of you when he’s got you pressed underneath him on the mattress, cock plunging in and out, mouth hungrily kissing every patch of skin he can get at. When Gojo looks at you with his hair falling in his face and his eyes like starlit galaxies, you feel beautiful – but you’re not sure if you’ll feel quite the same way straddling his face.

He sees the way you bite your lip, the anxiety beginning to show in your gaze – and Gojo softens. You see him like this rarely (he’s proud more than he’s caring), but he’s shown this side of him to you every so often, when something has made you draw in on yourself. One of his hands wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you to face him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, pressing his nose against yours affectionately. “What’s got you pouting, huh?”

“I . . .” You swallow. You feel so embarrassed admitting it! Gojo has never said anything about your body beyond how much he loves having your hips to hold onto, how he loves your thighs wrapped around his waist, how soft and warm you are tangled up beside him in bed – but your insecurities always seem to flash back up at the most inopportune of moments. “I’m just . . .” You blink, biting your lip. Your voice comes out in a soft breath. “I’m worried I’ll be too heavy.”

Gojo’s eyebrows draw in. You must have seen him without anything shading his eyes a hundred times now, when the two of you are in the bedroom, but you are still knocked back by just how pretty he is – the constellations in his irises, the fan of his white eyelashes against perfect skin. The expression makes his mouth jut out, so kissable that it takes your breath away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he says, as if the very idea is laughable. “I could lift you over my head right now--”

He reaches for you as if he’s going to do it, arms locking about your waist – the tension breaks as he effortlessly pulls you back, your body landing on top his. He doesn’t so much as let out a ‘whumph’ of air at the sensation of your body hitting his.

“I’m the strongest, remember?” There’s more than a note of swagger in his voice; he is so very proud of that accomplishment. You suppose he has every right to be.

“I guess,” you breathe, and he makes a soft harrumphing sound before his fingers twist into your hair, pulling you close to him to kiss you.

“You guess?” He sounds mock offended against your lips. “I guess that means I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean, huh?”

A nip at your lower lip; his hands roaming your bare back, stroking the curve of your ass and hips. Everywhere Gojo’s long fingers touch leaves a trail of fire behind, like he’s branding you with the pressure of his fingertips. You imagine them leaving glowing trails behind the colour of his eyes – but the coil of heat that they’re helping stoke, low in your belly, is more red than anything else.

“How’re you gonna do that?” You breathe against the softness of his mouth. He tastes like sugar; he always does. You can’t get enough of him, dizzy and breathless. You would gorge yourself on him if you could.

“Take a seat on your throne, princess,” he grins, letting his head hit the pillows hard. His pale hair spreads out all around him like a halo as he moves a hand from your hip to tap his mouth with his fingers. “And find out.”

You guess it would shut him up. Gojo’s mouth can’t keep moving if he’s got you occupying it. And you also can’t deny that the thought of it – riding his face – is more than half of the reason your inner thighs are slick with your arousal. Still . . . what if you really are too heavy for him?

Gojo murmurs your name softly – you meet his eyes again, and you see softness and tenderness reflected in them, despite the fact that his mouth is still shaped into a cocky smirk. You know if you say no, he probably won’t push you. But . . . you don’t want to say no. You push yourself up from his chest.

He’s still wearing his underwear, and you wonder if he can sense how damp you are where you briefly straddle him – because you can certainly feel how stiff he is, the outline of his cock pressing against silken boxer shorts (yeah, of course he’s a silk underwear kind of man – you’ve seen them countless times, but just how Gojo that particular detail of him is never fails to make you smile).

“Okay,” you breathe. “I hope you’re comfy.”

Gojo’s face splits into a grin as you move yourself, your knees suddenly either side of his face, his cheeks pressing against the softness of your thighs.

“Babe,” he starts to say, “I’m absolutely the com—mmppf--”

His gloating is cut off by you sitting on his face. The whisper of his breath across your heated folds as he’d spoken had been too tempting, your sex feeling like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat – and so, you’d given in. Using your hands as leverage on the headboard of the bed, you’d sunk fully onto your knees and muffled Gojo’s words.

Oh, God.

Your mind blanks out at first, as Gojo’s tongue goes at you hungrily. For his first hungry licks at your core, he’s voracious – he seems to want to drink you up like fine wine. Gojo does not drink – you know this very well – but if he could get drunk on your slick, you think he’d already be unable to stand up. One of the hands on the headboard goes to tangle in the fluffy strands of his pale hair instead, and he looks up at you for a moment, pausing with the flat of his tongue pressed against the throbbing bud of your clit.

The sight of his eyes between your thighs almost pushes you over the edge there and then – looking down at him feels like tumbling down a rabbit hole, like you’ll never be able to pull yourself out of their lovely depths. He makes a soft noise against your folds that has you practically vibrating, your toes curling – and you realise it’s a question.

Maybe he’s asking you what’s wrong, maybe he’s asking you if you want to stop, but your mind is all hazy from the feeling of his mouth on you. So all you do is tug at his hair and gasp, your hips rolling forward against him to try and coax his tongue into flickering across your clit like you’re longing for it to do.

“Satoru,” you whimper, voice all thin and reedy like a prayer, and Gojo does not need any more encouragement than that to return to his work.

Gojo’s hands rest on your hips and even you feel small for a second, the length of his fingers and size of his palm almost overwhelming. There’s so much power in the way he holds you – so much strength behind the casual clench of his fingers into your plush. He keeps you anchored there as he uses the flat swathe of his tongue to lap at you all at once, briefly teasing your entrance before he twirls his tongue around your clit like someone licking whipped cream off of a fancy dessert--

He’s caught you watching him do exactly that out of the corner of your eye many times before, and grinned at you widely with a hungry murmur that he’ll devour you in exactly the same way if you want him too.

Does he not need to breathe?

You lose track of how long you’ve been sat on his face for. You can’t think of anything else with the warm, wet muscle of Gojo’s tongue teasing you. He thrusts it in and out of your entrance, making your entire body jerk and your walls try and cling to him, constrict around him. He flicks his tongue so fast over the bud of your clit that you can’t understand how he does it, it can’t be human to move that fast--

All through it, the tension tight in your stomach is getting hotter and tighter and needier, like a instrument's string being tuned to its breaking point.

You can barely breathe. There’s nothing but Gojo’s insistent lapping at your core, the thrust of his tongue in and out of your channel (has Gojo’s tongue always been so long? It feels just as good inside of you as his fingers always do, but different--). Your hips are rocking and grinding against his face against your will, your fingers twisting into his hair. You’ve lost your senses completely in the chase of your release, hovering tantalisingly close--

Gojo gives your clit one final, soft lap, the barest hint of his teeth against the hood and you burst into bloom for him like a flower. The string snaps and heat floods your body, Gojo’s name escaping you in a wail. Fireworks burst into being behind your eyelids.

Gojo’s tongue follows through, coaxing you through the soft, gentle aftershocks of your orgasm even as your thighs are trembling and your grip on the headboard is beginning to loosen. If it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would probably fall forward and hit your head on the wall, passing out – but Gojo’s assessment of his strength wasn’t for naught, and your spent body is being pulled down so your heated cheeks are pressed against Gojo’s firm chest. You blink up at him in your exhausted, pleasure-drunk state--

The entire lower half of his mouth is dripping wet, glinting with your arousal and his own drool from how hungrily his tongue was going at you. But his eyes are as sharp as ever, drinking you in like you’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen – as if he can’t believe that you’d ever doubt yourself.

Nobody would believe you if you told them how Gojo gets, sometimes – if you told them about the smile-softened eyes and the softer words, the way he holds you like a precious treasure that might break at any moment. He leans down and strokes some hair from your eyes, almost lazy.

“I told you I was the strongest,” he says, and even though it’s a boast, his voice and manner is so soft that you barely register it. You’re smiling up at him like a fool. Maybe it’s foolish to love him as much as you do – but if it is, you don’t want to be clever. You don’t want to be anything but his, here, in his bed, sprawled out across him, lazy and sated.

You kiss the bit of his chest directly beneath your lips lazily, needing to express your affection for this arrogant, gorgeous, irrepressible (perfect) man.

He sighs at the contact, shifting – and you’re reminded of what’s currently lying beneath his own underwear, hot and needy and thick. It’s a testament to Gojo’s willpower he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

You smile at him. One more minute of relaxing on his chest – of having your hair played with, of getting to look at him . . . and then, you’ll see to that.

Gojo’s eyes are just as gorgeous when you’re knelt between his thighs as they are when he’s trapped between yours, after all.

[anaveragebibliophile]

All For Him

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

Summary: Lord Elrond comes to Mirkwood to ask a favor of his oldest friend, Thranduil. However, the stoic, unyielding king isn’t as willing to follow through on the request because of the danger it will put his family in. 

Honestly, when you stumbled into your husband’s study that morning, you didn’t expect to feel so puzzled and flabbergasted. You didn’t anticipate Thran’s summons to be anything more than a request for information about Legolas (which you were happy to provide), a question regarding supper, or an idea for date night. So the last person you expected to see was Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell, arguing with his trusted confidant and friend of many eons near the balcony. 

“Thran, what’s going on? Is everything alright?” you queried as you stepped into the room, incisors biting into your lower lip. 

“Queen (y/n), what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Elrond replied, consequently ending the argument, as he walked over to take your wrist and place a chaste, respectful kiss on the back of your hand. “My sincerest apologies for not seeking you out sooner.” 

“That’s quite alright, Elrond. You know that. I too wish I had known you were here earlier, but I unfortunately got sidelined. We took a short walk in the gardens this morning, all three of us, when Legolas ended up tripping on a very small rock. Thranduil and I tried to utilize the open--and what we thought was a safe--space as a way for him to grow more comfortable walking without our help. That strategy worked well for us. Until today. None of us had seen the ant-sized pebble roll over his tiny heel, making him lose his balance and unknowingly place his hand on a grounded bee’s stinger to stabilize himself.” 

“My goodness! How is he doing?”

“As well as can be expected. As he got himself up, he whimpered a little bit which isn’t normally like him. Even if he takes a tumble, he’ll usually still maintain his normal demeanor--sweet, timid, and smiley. But once we saw his palm start to swell up, we knew something was wrong. Thran rushed him to the healer, who was more than willing to keep an eye on him. Ever since then, he’s been given herbs to reduce the swelling and irritation at the site of the wound as well as water to keep him hydrated. Thank you for asking.”

Once you finished sharing that traumatizing experience, you looked over to your husband, whose face was devoid of color. Out of the two of you, he had been the most panicked over Legolas’ well-being. ‘Is he breathing?’ he’d asked. ‘What if he has a reaction to the toxins?’ he’d wondered. ‘What if we didn’t get him to the healer’s quarters in time?’ he’d said, voice cracking under all the emotions. Unfortunately, the man is an aggressive worrier who feels the most stress when he’s involved in a situation that’s completely out of his control. His son inadvertently getting stung by a bee? Yeah, definitely an event that drove your husband up a wall. 

“He’s doing fine, Thran. He and I cuddled in his rocking chair for about twenty minutes before he fell asleep. Before that though, he did want me to tell you that he loves you,” I said, trying to soothe him as best as I could given the circumstances. 

Even though Legolas is still quite young and not fluent in Sindarin yet, he does have a few sentences that he likes to use every now and again. His favorite though is ‘gi melin’, the Sindarian version of ‘I love you’. Anytime he’s reunited with you or Thran, he’ll smile so wide (with his one tooth showing itself off) and almost shout the words out (as if you won’t hear him clearly without that extra pizzaz). Both you and your husband agree that it’s probably the sweetest thing your little leaf has ever done (and Legolas is the epitome of sweet). 

“I love him too. More than life. Which is why I cannot allow Sauron’s ring and its company to enter Mirkwood. I am sorry, Elrond, but my answer is final. You will not be able to change my mind on the subject,” your husband said. 

“Sauron’s ring? So young Frodo is alive then, is he not? I heard about your daughter saving him from the hands of the Nazgûl but wasn’t sure of its veracity,” you mentioned.  

“Yes. He is recovered and wishes to continue on the quest to destroy the ring at Mount Doom. However, we are trying to avoid the company’s traveling in the open at night and are looking for places for them to seek refuge. I am trying to convince Thranduil to offer his kingdom, but it seems that that has been more difficult than I originally presumed. He fears for your safety and Legolas’ too much.” 

Speaking of Legolas, a soft knock on the door soon presented you with the little leaf in the arms of his nanny, Elva. 

“Legolas, darling, what are you doing up so early?” I asked, my lips perking up into a small grin. 

“Ada, Nana!” he blubbered, pointing to us. “Gi melin, gi melin, gi melin.”

“I apologize, Your Majesties. As you can see, the prince woke up a bit early from his nap. All of the maids attempted to keep him occupied in his chambers, but it was no use. He only wanted to see his nostairi (parents),” Elva explained. 

“That is quite alright, Elva. I have not seen enough of him today. Thank you for bringing him to us,” your husband responded, moving over as Legolas reached out for him, and, once in his arms, began snuggling into his chest. “Hello, iôn nîn. I hope you slept well.”

“How’s his hand, Thran?” 

Your husband took your question as an opportunity to lightly pull Legolas’ right arm out from where it was hiding in front of his stomach. “It is still a tad swollen but not too severe.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Nana, gi melin,” your son whispered behind your husband’s robes. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you responded, lightly running your fingers through his hair and down his back. 

Watching the interaction ensue, Thranduil softly smiled down at the two loves of his life. The first one--his wife--who taught him the beauty behind exuding kindness, positivity, and light. The one who guided him back to the meaning of life. And the second one--his son--who embodies all the genuine goodness that his wife bestowed upon him in their early years together. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, but that unknown answer will never prevent him from being grateful. 

“Ada, gi melin,” your son quietly hummed as he lifted himself up to kiss Thran’s cheek. 

“Iôn nîn, gi melin as well. Very much.”

But then the unthinkable happened. Your little leaf turned his body away from Thranduil to look at Elrond. “Gi melin!” he shouted, a smile creeping up his face (with his lone tooth on display). 

“Well, I cannot say I am not shocked,” the lord responded, just as confounded as the rest of the group. Although Legolas was a very empathetic elfling, the reality was that he only shared that sentence with two people: his parents. So his sharing that sentiment with another-- a person he doesn’t spend every day with, let alone see once a month--was very odd, yet exciting in its own way. In your mind, maybe this was a sign that he was feeling more comfortable around his parents’ trusted friends. Maybe he saw the camaraderie in the room and felt soothed by it. Maybe he was no longer experiencing such debilitating episodes of timidity.   

“It appears he has taken a strong liking to you, Elrond,” you responded. “And now that you know the depth of his affections, are you truly going to permit an evil, dark presence permeating Mirkwood’s halls?”

He pondered that question in no time at all before saying, “No. I will not be the one to put this child at risk. Perhaps Frodo and his company can stay a few extra days at Rivendell. It really is not a problem.” 

At that declaration, you and Thranduil humbly nodded (hiding your smiles as best you could because this was a serious matter after all). “Thank you, my friend. Your concern for our son is much appreciated and will never be forgotten.”

“I know you would have done the same for me had I been in your shoes. Legolas deserves to be safe and comforted in his own kingdom without his parents having to worry about whether the ring will wreak havoc and harm him in the process. Besides, I want to return to Mirkwood in a few months’ time and still be on his list of love.” And everyone, including Legolas, giggled at that. 

[prose-for-hire]

Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger. 

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

[megan-is-mia]

Could I ask for Peacock Vil with #209? Like he's in his mating season and she is rejecting all his advances.

(This one is kind of long sorry) 209. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it.” (Yandere! Peacock Vil Schoenheit x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD!)

Ever since she was a young girl (Y/n) had known what her future would be. Born to a concubine in the Peacock King’s harem there was only one fate open to her: to become a harem-girl like her mother before her and serve her master obediently. This fact had been drilled into her since toddlerhood. Yet there was something that gave her hope and kept her from fully accepting her destiny. She had a special friend, a secret friend who lived in the castle as well. They’d never seen each other’s faces but spoke to one another every day through a hole in the wall between the two grand gardens of the palace. Her friend called themself Scélérat, and they loved two things: knowledge and beauty. Each day they would teach (Y/n) new things they’d learned from the books in the library.

With every scrap of knowledge (Y/n) gained she found new strength in herself. When she was with Scélérat she wasn’t just a lowly harem girl, she was a person who mattered in this world. Yet as the years went by things began to change, she began to be plagued with more and more duties to make her into the ideal concubine. Even worse the Peacock King’s son Vil demanded that she become his personal servant and tend to him daily.

“(Y/n) why do you stand so far from my side? Come closer darling I won’t bite” Vil cooed as he lounged back on the chaise longue and gestured for the servant to come closer. (Y/n) grit her teeth but obeyed, she despised the peacock-man and his father and everything they stood for. If it wasn’t for the king and the prince, she and her mother would not be bound to a life of sexual servitude.

Vil pulled (Y/n) down into his lap as she came closer, she had grown more beautiful than he could ever have hoped for. He still remembered with total clarity when he’d first met her, back when they were children still innocent of heart. She’d been crying in the garden and he’d spoken to her through the wall. (Y/n) had spilled out her sorrows to him and he felt his heartache for the first time in his life.

He hadn’t told her his name then, for that would have ruined everything. To her, he would be Scélérat, someone she could always depend on to be there for her and lift her up. But as time has gone by their meetings had grown shorter and less frequent, it was not her fault that she wasn’t able to meet him. (Y/n) was blooming into a beautiful young woman and therefore she had to know her duties as a concubine.

That didn’t mean he would let her slip away from him. Sure for now she may not love him as Prince Vil, but he would win her yet. He was sure of it, she had no choice in the matter. When he became king he would dismiss most of the harem that his father had amassed. Of course, he would make sure the concubines went to good homes but he would not need so many women to keep him happy. The only woman he needed to be happy was (Y/n), she would be his queen in all but name. He wished he could make her queen proper but he knew patience would be key to being successful in his endeavors. If he gave her that power before he knew for certain that she was loyal to him everything could go down in flames. Vil could not let the love in his heart cloud his judgment on the matter.

(Y/n) hated how intimately the prince touched her. His hands made her skin crawl and she felt like she needed to scrub her skin clean after every encounter with him. The other harem girls gossiped that she must be his favorite since she was the only girl he’d ever called to his chambers. However, she did not care whether or not she was the prince’s favorite for she would never care for him.

For her heart already belonged to another, her beloved Scélérat, yes they were her beloved. Though she had never had the courage to tell them of her feelings for them and now she was unlikely to ever have the chance to tell them with the prince hoarding her time and body. The only relief she had was the fact the prince and king’s mating season would soon start and none would be allowed near their rooms nor them. Perhaps in this downtime (Y/n) would gain from the prince’s season she’d be able to speak to Scélérat again and set things straight. However, until the season started she would be quite busy with Prince Vil. In the week leading up to his mating season, the prince began acting strangely towards her. One could almost call it affectionate, the way he spoke to her and tried to shower her in gifts of clothes and jewelry. “He must be trying to court you” another harem girl suggested when (Y/n) spoke of her concerns one evening. “The gift-giving, the affectionate words, the only sensible explanation is that his more bestial brain is piloting and he wants you to be his mate” she added making (Y/n) cringe with disgust. Her? The prince’s mate? No way! There was no way she would ever become the prince’s mate!

Yet despite her unwillingness, she found herself being locked in with the prince on the day his rut started. At first, he seemed totally unaware of her presence in the room, jerking furiously on his bed and grunting in a low voice. This was a side of Vil she’d never seen before, who was this unrefined creature unable to think of anything but sex? She could almost feel pity for him, almost.

(Y/n) was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice when the prince had given up trying to pleasure himself and was creeping towards her. Suddenly she found herself being pulled and forced down on the bed as Vil climbed atop of her with a lecherous grin. (Y/n) grimaced and tried to kick him off even as he leaned down to capture her lips in a hungry kiss and ran his hands down her sides.

“Finally, I have you where I want you… I’ve been waiting for this day for years” Vil said in a coo as he pulled away from the kiss. “Ever since we were young I knew you were the one for me my darling” he added leaning in for another kiss. (Y/n) turned her head away confused by the prince’s words. “What… What are you talking about! You aren’t making any sense!” she said, trying to kick him again. “Even when we’re this close to one another you still don’t recognize me? You cannot recognize your oldest friend?” the prince said, leaning down to speak in (Y/n)’s ear. “Your dear Scélérat sits before you and yet you do not see?” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her ear. This revelation froze (Y/n) to her core, the prince… he was the one she’d loved for so long? Impossible! She could not accept, she would not accept this to be true!

“I don’t believe you! You must be lying! Scélérat is a good person, unlike you! He would never let me remain a harem girl if he had the power to free me like you do!” (Y/n) said in a hiss. “Oh I have every intention of freeing you, just not yet… first I must become king so I can make you my wife” Vil said nuzzling the young woman playfully. “But such serious matters can wait until another day, let us enjoy each other’s company” he concluded.

(Y/n) knew exactly what he meant by “enjoy each other’s company” and she wanted none of it. She tried to push him away again even as he kissed down her front, yanking her top down to lavish her breasts with attention. (Y/n) had never had the curiosity to try touching herself in such a matter and as such her body jolted with the new sensations Vil forced upon her with his mouth and hands.

“You saved yourself for me didn’t you darling?” the peacock-man said with a croon, his hands darting further down (Y/n)’s body to run down her thighs. “I wish I had the patience to wait until our wedding night to do this… but I suppose there really is nothing wrong with getting started on making an heir right?” he mused to himself as the young woman below him felt her blood run cold. Her? Carry the prince’s heir? She couldn’t think of many things worse than bearing a child for this man! Perhaps she could stop him from doing this tonight? Maybe she could spare herself such a fate by taking command now? (Y/n) reached down clumsily searching for the prince’s cock and taking it firmly in her grip. Without hesitation, she began jerking him off quickly as he began to buck into her hold. “Mmmph fuck that feels so good” Vil said, his tail feathers spreading behind him as he fucked himself into the girl’s fist and let his head lol back in pleasure. It didn’t take long for him to cum messily onto (Y/n)’s body with a weak grin. “That was delightful darling, now allow me to return the favor” the prince said situating himself between the girl’s thighs. He pulled her undergarments aside before pressing his mouth to her cunt. This was not what she had wanted to have happen! She’d touched him hoping that it would be enough to please him so he wouldn’t impregnate her. He wasn’t supposed to try and return the favor of pleasuring! (Y/n) weakly kicked at the prince as he sucked on her clit and drove his tongue deep into her cunt. It felt like he was trying to clean her insides out with his mouth and she could feel her eyes rolling back in her skull. “P-puh-prince Vil!” (Y/n) squealed desperately and to her surprise, the peacock-man stopped. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it” the prince groaned out before he began tongue-fucking her again. It didn’t take long until the harem girl was seeing white and cumming all over Vil’s face. He licked up her release greedily before spreading her legs and scooting so his cock brushed against her pussy.

“I’ll try to be gentle, considering this is your first time… but I can't promise I won’t lose control” Vil cooed before starting to sink into (Y/n)’s depths. It didn’t take much before the young woman was squirming with discomfort. The prince was so big compared to her and his cock was just as proportionally big. The kisses that he pressed to her face did nothing to ease the pain he was causing her at this moment. “Hold on for me darling… I just need to get all the way in and then I'll make you feel really good” the prince promised. He continued to sink into her, stretching her like she’d never been stretched before. His fingers teased her clit made it almost bearable but still it wasnt enough to take the pain away. Finally, Vil was all the way in and let out a long gasp. He nuzzled (Y/n)’s shoulder before kissing it.

“You feel so tight around me… it feels amazing… I'm going to make you feel amazing too” the peacock-man said, his tail feathers shaking with delight. He pulled back a little bit before slamming back into (Y/n) with a grunt. He repeated this action over and over again each time striking a spot deep inside the harem girl’s cunt that made her see stars and moan for him like he wanted. Gradually Vil’s movements got faster and faster, gripping the bedframe as he fucked (Y/n) with all his might. The young woman came so many times yet the prince showed no signs of wearing out despite the many times he had also cum as he pounded her into the bed. “I’m gonna plant an entire nest in your womb darling… you’ll like that won’t you? Soon you’ll be a wife, a mother, and a queen just like you deserve…” THE END

[riddikulus-writings]

Take A Nap

A/N: So yeah. I have a long, in depth fic for these two that's chock full of secrets and fluff and Actual Backstory but for some reason all I can write is smut. This is part two to Escapades and takes place just after the police van rolled down that hill. Also, can someone let me know if that link I tried doesn’t work? I’m still new to writing on this blue hellsite

Word Count: 1734

Pairing: Rick Flag x Female Reader [Codename Nyx, after the Greek Goddess]

Warnings: Still not really any plot, sorry guys. The plot for this is hidden elsewhere. Vaginal fingering. Semi-public sex. Dirty talk. Rick still won't shut up but he really should, though, people are trying to sleep. Choking. Uh, nothing makes sense, really? Movie innacuracies due to the fact this is now a bigger vehicle than the hippie van they were cruising around in, but the same concept still applies. 

Apparently, the van was on fire. One by one they stepped from the wreckage, walking out into the road, weapons in hand. Nyx wished she could’ve taken a picture, because she was positive they probably looked pretty cool.

Disoriented. Possibly concust. But cool.

And suddenly, rolling to a stop, was the small dusty van they'd rode to town in. Abner was in the open slider door, waving them in. DuBois puffed out his chest, "Alright. To Jotunheim."

"Not yet," Rick stopped him, "There's something else we need to do first."

"Stop standing like you have an American Flag waving behind you and get in the fucking mini bus, Flag."

Nyx's voice shook him out of his reverie; he was the last one outside. He jogged to catch the bus before it began moving faster, piling in the door and sliding it shut behind him. His eyes immediately found Nyx, seated in the very back. Rick beelined for her through the others and took up the space on her right. Peacemaker called to him from a seat up, "So, where are we going, now?"

"The Mayor's mansion in town," Rick told him, "We need to get Harley."

"Oh, I miss her," Nyx mused quietly.

Oh yeah. Rick cringed to himself, remembering the three missions he, Nyx and Harley had been on before he’d requested to Waller that Harley be benched more often than not. The first had gone by fine, minimal issues. The second was better. No deaths, no infighting amongst the Squad. Nyx had loosened up around other people by then and banter even happened. And the third--

Ain’t it normally the gal makin’ heart eyes at the guy and not the other way around, Ricky?

He’d shaken his head and given Harley a stern glare for assuming things. Harley had simply given him her smuggest million dollar grin and continued about her own business and not his.

“Suicide Squad to Mr. Flag,” a hand was waving in his eyes, slowly coming into focus. It was Nyx’s hand, but Cleo’s heavily accented voice, “What’s the plan?”

Rick cleared his throat, looking among his teammates, “Peacemaker high up, across the street. Sniper for any possible danger. Cleo,” he pointed at her, “Abner and, uh… Sebastian… are around back. Take out any guards back there. DuBois scales the wall to the top, Nyx and I keep watch.”

“Question,” Nyx raised her hand up, “Why can’t we just walk in the front door?”

"That would give us away," Peacemaker told her blatantly, "Instant capture. Dumb idea."

"You're a dumb idea," she retorted, "Actually, a bad idea was bringing you along."

Whoa. Everyone's eyebrows shot up, "Nyx, what the fuck? No infighting. Knock it off," Rick's voice was low but firm with authority.

"He's-- he's got bad vibes about him," Nyx's words slurred, "I-I just don't like him."

"No one does," DuBois told her, patting the very quiet Peacemaker on the shoulder, "Everyone try to get some rest before we get to town. It's going to be a while."

The rest of the team hunkered down in their seats, leaning against their respective windows or leaning forward with their heads against the seat ahead of them. Cleo snuggled into Nanaue's side, and Peacemaker went as far as laying completely flat on his back, his thick splayed legs hanging in the aisle.

Rick reached over and tugged Nyx across the bench seat they were seated on, sliding her into his side, "What’s up between you and Peacemaker?" His voice was quiet, muffled against the hair at her temple.

She ducked away from him a little, tucking her head under his chin, "I've been with him a bit longer than you have. I just… can't explain it but I don't like him. He makes me uneasy."

Rick's thumb started rubbing circles in her hip, "So many trust issues."

"I have my reasonings," she yawned up at him, "Secret reasonings."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he whispered, grabbing her chin with his free hand so he could look her in the eye. The dim moonlight through the window made her eyes seem almost black, "Extra secret reasonings, huh?"

Nyx leaned closer, staring at his mouth instead of his eyes, "Top secret."

Rick hummed in agreement and closed the gap, sealing his mouth over hers. He wasted no time dipping his tongue into her mouth, drinking in her moans before they could get too loud. He gently pushed on her, laying her down across the length of the seat. Rick followed her down, nestling himself between her legs. Nyx planted a foot on the seat beside Rick’s thigh as he hitched the other into the crook of his elbow, “Gonna be quiet?” he asked quietly, lightly peppering kisses down her neck. Sucking on her now-exposed collarbone.

She whined, a breathless whisper as she nodded desperately, trying to grind her hips against something. Rick moved back up, his free hand moving around her neck, “Quiet.”

He slowly lowered her leg, her boot softly hitting the floor. Rick sent a sidelong glance through the rest of the dark bus, and so far no one had moved from their previous positions. Thank God for that. What a sight they’d wake up to; Nyx spread over the only bench seat here, Rick looming over her, a hand around her throat. They’d either think he was trying to kill her, or get very uncomfortable very fast and ask him to stop.

Which, he wasn’t about to do whether someone woke up or not.

He turned his attention back to the panting woman beneath him, raising an eyebrow at the grin spread over her face. The more pressure he applied to her throat, the wider her lips spread. His right hand worked at the buttons of her black pants, “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, “There’s other people on this bus.” Rick snaked his hand down the front of her pants, stroking down her dripping sex, “All for me?”

“That is you,” she panted out, grabbing the back of his head to pull him down for another searing kiss. When he scooped his cum back up with two fingers and pushed them inside, Nyx bit his bottom lip so hard he was sure she’d drawn blood. He leaned into it, pushing his tongue on her mouth again as he worked his fingers and scissored her open.

“Quiet,” he admonished, again, pressing his free hand against her throat once more. He pinned her to the seat, squeezing his hand as tight as he’d let himself, “Gonna wake everyone up,” he breathed out, his nose brushing against hers.

Again, Nyx’s grin grew, her pearly teeth glowing in the shards of moonlight passing through the windows, “Good.”

Rick almost growled but couldn’t without fear of waking someone up. Instead he buried his face in her shoulder, “Fuckin’ filthy little thing,” he repeated, curling his fingers against that certain spongy spot he’d found that made her grind hard into the palm of his hand, “Gonna be a good girl and keep me in there?” She whined out a high pitched yes but otherwise stayed breathless, quiet pants crawling up her throat and Rick wanted nothing more than to shove his cock in her open mouth. He pulled up from her neck, almost sneering with the strain of trying to stay quiet as he worked his thumb up to the peak of her cunt, “Want you to cum all over my hand, sweetheart. Gonna do that for me? See if you can stay quiet.”

“Bastard,” was the whimper he got.

“That’s not very nice,” he told her, pressing his thumb hard on her clit. Her arm suddenly flew up to cover her face, Nyx burying her face in the crook of her elbow as Rick buried a third finger deep in her cunt, his thumb rubbing fast circles. He moved his hand from her throat, sliding it instead to her hip to hold her down as she bucked into his hand, “C’mon, almost there. I got you,” he muttered.

Her hips stuttered, low whines coming muffled by her elbow. She was choking his fingers and he had to remove one so he could keep them moving, working her through her orgasm. Rick’s hand got soaked suddenly and she went limp, her only movement coming from her chest that moved with rapid breaths, “Bitch.”

Rick tugged her arm from her face as he slid his hand from her pants, “What’s the matter, Nyx?”

“I--” she panted out, “hate being-- quiet.”

He flashed her a bright grin and tugged her pants back into place, giving her stomach a gentle pat, “You didn’t have to,” a quick peck on the lips, “But it would’ve been a bit awkward for the others. Especially when I wouldn’t stop.” Another whimper, and he raised an eyebrow at her, but simply stuck his fingers in his mouth.

“I’m going to sleep,” she whispered, dropping her hand off the side of the seat. Her knuckles brushed the floor. The other arm folded behind her head.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so,” DuBois grumbled from somewhere up front. “You two are disgusting.”

"No one told you to listen," Rick shot back, his whisper loud enough for DuBois to hear over Nyx's stifled giggles. Rick was grinning, though; thankfully Bloodsport couldn't see it.

"Someone needs to nap," Nyx murmured, a small smirk plastered over her mouth, "He sounds cranky."

“You ain't laying down there,” Rick suddenly tugged her back up to snuggle into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders as he scooted them both to the end of the seat, “Leanin’ or layin’?”

“Lay,” she yawned.

He turned and pressed his back to the window, head lolling to the side to lean on the seat. After some shuffling, she was between his legs, back to his chest. HIs arms wrapped around her, one leg from each of them on the seat and the other leg on the floor. They looked like they had the same boots on. Nyx nuzzled her head into his shoulder, “Y’smell nice…”

“I smell like jungle and sweat,” he chuckled, his laugh vibrating through her, “And blood. Go to sleep.”

And they both dozed off like that, just as they had several times before on Nyx’s couch. Their breathing evened, Nyx drooling a little onto Rick’s bicep. Rick shifted in his sleep and snugged her closer to his chest.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table. 

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[whoopsieintheuniverse]

Comfortable

AN: It’s herrrree! Illumi smut as promised. If you like this, feel free to commission me for your own, personalized smut with your favorite character!~  ko-fi.com/whoopsieintheuniverse

Also, this can be read as an addition to my Illumi series, or separately. This is honestly just tooth-rotting fluff and smut. No plot. 

CW: body worship, Illumi. hair pulling and some spanking. Minors, pls do not interact. Thnks. 

A hand rested on Y/N’s stomach. It stayed there, basking in the warmth it found, before trailing down and settling on plush thighs. Illumi regarded the sleeping figure tucked firmly into his form. Y/N. They differed from the Zoldycks, from Illumi, in every way. Where Illumi and his family were blood and iron, hard lines and even harder features, Y/N was like cotton on a cloud. Soft. Gentle. Comfortable. 

Illumi allowed a smile to crack his stony expression. His hand that rested on Y/N’s thighs travelled back up to their stomach. He squeezed before trailing his nails up to their chest. Illumi paused and closed his eyes, allowing himself to count their heartbeats as their chest rose and fell. 

Yes, this was comfortable. If he had to steal, to kill, it was no problem. He was used to carnage, destruction, death. Illumi was raised as a Zoldyck; he was to make the shadows his home, and death a constant ally. Illumi looked down again as Y/N snored. No, now he was home. 

Y/N shifted again, pressing themselves further into Illumi’s embrace. He closed his eyes, basking in the warmth that they had to offer. Illumi pressed himself further into Y/N. Soft. Maybe he could have more…

Gently, Illumi reached up to Y/N’s face and stroked it. He breathed a kiss over their lips before whispering their name. 

“Y/N. Wake up.” 

Y/N groaned and turned over. Illumi shook their shoulders. 

Blearily, Y/N smacked their lips together. 

Illumi huffed humorlessly, and he slowly caged Y/N’s body under his. Illumi started to pepper kisses on Y/N’s cheek before trailing down to breathe on their collarbone. 

“Illumi?” 

Illumi grunted, continuing his movement. Y/N’s back arched as they felt teeth dig into their shoulder. Y/N looked down into Illumi’s eyes. They watched as his eyes crinkled before closing in bliss. Y/N laid back and relaxed into the bed, sighing as they felt their shirt lift from their body. They raised their back off the mattress to help Illumi undress them, and Y/N giggled as eagerly, Illumi’s hands found their shoulders and guided them back to the bed. Illumi’s tongue traced the curves of their chest, taking time to explore every dip Y/N’s body had to offer. Illumi’s lips caressed one of Y/N’s nipples before locking on tightly. Y/N hissed at the contact. 

“‘Lumi. It’s the middle of the night. What’s gotten into you?” Instead of answering, Illumi’s right hand plucked at the empty space on Y/N’s chest while his other floated to the side of their face. Y/N leaned into his touch, sighing and smiling at the sight in front of them. 

Illumi sensed Y/N’s eyes on him. With a soft pop, Illumi let go of Y/N’s chest, a thin string of saliva still connecting them together. 

“I didn’t realize I’d have an audience,” Illumi said. 

“You’re just so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.” 

Illumi huffed again before quickly kissing the corner of Y/N’s mouth. Y/N took the time to run their fingers through his hair, appreciating the silk that ran through their fingers. Illumi sat back on his haunches, and he pulled Y/N closer into his lap. Y/N squealed as they felt themselves and Illumi fall back on their bed, and they shivered when they felt his lips connect with theirs once again. 

Slowly, Illumi’s body started to rock against Y/N’s, and Y/N let out a gasp as they felt his clothed erection press into them. 

“Mm.. Illumi…”

“Hm?” 

Y/N sat up, straddling Illumi’s hips. They placed their hands on his chest and smiled as they felt him grind against their backside. Illumi gripped Y/N’s hips tightly, before moving his hands back to Y/N’s behind and reveling in the cushion he found. Y/N giggled as Illumi squeezed them, and they let out a squeak as they realized that Illumi was pushing them further up his body. 

“‘Lumi, I don’t know,” Y/N trailed off. Illumi froze and looked up at Y/N, who was now straddling his chest. 

“Did I misread the situation?” he asked. 

Y/N felt their face and shoulders burn. They stared at Illumi’s forehead instead of meeting his eyes. 

“We’ve never done this before.” 

“No. We’ve had sex plenty of times, Y/N.” 

Y/N groaned and tried to roll off of Illumi, but his grip stopped them. 

“Not that,” Y/N said. “I mean, what you’re about to do.” 

“Sorry, but now I’m even more confused. I’ve given you oral sex before as well, Y/N.” 

“Not in this position, Illumi!” 

“So?” 

“I’m nervous. My thighs are bigger than your head.” 

Suddenly, a slap sounded through the room. Y/N jumped as they felt a sting on their behind. Y/N looked down and was met with hunger in Illumi’s eyes. He looked up at them, and a small smile cracked across his face. 

“I know.”  

“Illu-hey!” Y/N’s body swayed as Illumi heaved them up to his mouth. They grunted as Illumi’s lips started to peck at their inner thighs. Y/N reached down and threaded their fingers through Illumi’s hair and bucked into his mouth as he started to suckle on them. Y/N grinded themselves against Illumi’s mouth, softly moaning as his tongue explored their core. 

“Shit! Illumi…” Y/N rocked against his lips, and Illumi’s muffled chuckle sounded from between their thighs. Illumi’s hand came down again in a harsh strike on Y/N’s ass, and they moaned at the contact. Heat started to build in Y/N’s depths, and without warning, Illumi lifted Y/N from his mouth with a smack of his lips. 

“What the hell? Tease!” Y/N complained. They tried to scramble back up to Illumi’s lips, but easily, Illumi flipped the pair over so that he was on top of Y/N. He sat back and examined Y/N’s form sprawled before him. Illumi let his hands grope their stomach, squeezing the soft flesh. His hand travelled down to Y/N’s parted thighs, and Y/N moaned again when his fingertips found their saliva slick center. One finger breached Y/N’s center, and Y/N hand flew down to grab at Illumi’s wrist. 

“Too much?” Illumi asked. Y/N nodded, and carefully, Illumi withdrew his finger and crept to the side of his bed to retrieve a small bottle of lube. Y/N watched as Illumi slicked his fingers and returned to part Y/N open again. This time, Y/N hissed at the cold, but soon found themselves rocking along to Illumi’s movement’s inside of them. Slowly, the heat Y/N lost just moments before started somersaulting in their stomach. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Lumi...want more…” Y/N said. Illumi tilted his head before nodding. Y/N watched as Illumi freed himself from his briefs. They licked their lips, eyes fixated on the straining flesh in front of them. 

“Illumi...” Y/N whined. Illumi trapped Y/N underneath them, bringing their legs up to wrap around his waist. Y/N let out a breath as Illumi ground against him. Their nails raked down his back, and they bit their lip as Illumi prodded their entrance. Y/N squirmed at the intrusion and moaned as Illumi captured their lips in another searing kiss. Slowly, Illumi started to rock into Y/N, carefully caressing their sides. Illumi buried his face into their neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Y/N scratched at Illumi’s back, and their hands found their way to his behind. Illumi groaned as he felt Y/N press into his backside, spurring him on. 

“Harder...please. More.” 

Illumi’s hips rolled and Y/N moaned as he started to pick up the pace. The heat in their core ignited again. Illumi’s hips slapped against theirs brutally, and tears pricked the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Illumi’s hands found purchase against Y/N’s thighs; he lifted them into his hands and pulled Y/N even closer to him. Y/N wailed at the change in angle. So close, yet so far away. Each strike of Illumi’s hips sent them further careening into bliss. The room was heavy and hot, the muffled sounds of gasps and pleasured moans sounding off into the night. Y/N’s skin was ablaze, and a sheen of sweat started to cover them. Y/N looked up at Illumi, and found themselves staring at deep, dark eyes full of desire and love. Just as Illumi started to hit the spot that made Y/N see stars, Illumi dropped and draped his body over Y/N’s. Illumi pressed his forehead to Y/N’s, and Y/N smiled as they felt his breath ghost over their eyelashes. 

“Y/N,” Illumi breathed. 

Sensing how close they both were, Y/N reached for Illumi’s hand and wrapped their fingers around it tightly. 

“Illumi, sweetie. Cum with me, okay?” 

Illumi inhaled sharply and groaned. Y/N reached up and threaded their fingers through Illumi’s hair, tugging lightly as they went. They watched with glee as his eyes rolled back and his lips parted to let out a breathy moan. Y/N’s legs stretched and clamped around Illumi as the pressure in the pit of their stomach hit its breaking point. Y/N was first to tumble off that cliff, with Illumi chasing them not long after. Y/N whimpered, overstimulated, as Illumi slowed inside of them, sighing in relief when he stopped. Illumi and Y/N stayed connected, hearts slowing and breath quieting down to a lull. After a while, Y/N started to giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” Illumi asked. 

Y/N shrugged with a smile on their face. 

“I don’t know. It’s funny I guess...I’m just...I’m comfortable...like this. With you. I’m comfortable.” 

Illumi fell silent for a moment, before placing a small kiss on Y/N’s forehead. 

“I am as well.” 

[01solarsmiles]

synopsis: you’ve been at jaehyun’s “secret” flat for a while now. you’re not quite sure how long, he says time passes differently here. not that you mind. you’re healing and there’s nothing you have wrong with that. having been away form everything that was bad for you, you’re coming to realise that things really were better with jaehyun. and no matter how many times he tries to tell you, he knows you have to come to that conclusion yourself.

tl;dr: you heal under jaehyun’s caring gaze.

genre: fantasy!au, kind of domestic!au, magic!jaehyun, fluff, smut, fem!reader

warnings: smut in the forms of kissing, titplay, basically motorboats oc, brief nipple play, heavy petting/fondling, grinding (?), oral (male recieving), jaehyun can’t hold his load oops, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, brief cumplay lmao jaehyun is the teeniest bit kinky

other: jaehyun is my soft boi, wanna smooch and cuddle in his pastel coloured sweats, i’m british so he lives in a flat, soft smut… almost r*mantic,,, jaehyun is a boob man; do what you will with that B), jaehyun uses pet names bc i think it would be sickly sweet leaving his lips, time is relevant so i can do what i want with this thanks xox

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: this is a continuation from the last chapter. i split it bc i needed inspo lmao so once again, not happy with how it ended previously so i had to write more. admittedly, it was origianlly one long piece but i realised i wanted to add more depth to when they’re living together (basically) so i split it therefore enabling me to write what i wanted about them being cute and stuff. yeah.

You had been given a wheelchair by the hospital but had refused to use it, wanting to prove that you were okay, to yourself and Jaehyun. He had convinced you to stay in it as you left the hospital to please the staff on your way out but you had point-blank refused when you made it to the small block of flats he said he lived in. After walking two steps from the car you let out a whimper and gave in to his incessant pleas to get you to sit in the wheelchair.

Oddly, there had been no one in the foyer and you hadn’t bumped into anyone in the hallway in front of the lift. He had helped you when you made it into the flat, moving you over to the sofa where you melted into the plush cushions of the seat.

On the way here, the two of you had already argued about where you were going to stay, him insisting on not leaving you alone and you insisting that you’d be okay at a friends place. In the end, he promised to contact your friends and family to tell them you were spending a little time away (you wouldn’t let him tell them you had been to the hospital). After all, he had saved you when you needed it most.

Your cracked lips remained tightly sealed as he folded the wheelchair away and tucked it behind a cupboard where it wasn’t in your direct line of sight.

You decide to look around, wanting to take up some time and to avoid looking him directly in the eye.

The flat was… cosy. It looked lived in, all the trinkets and small collages stuck up on the walls drawing your attention away from the shelves stacked with potted plants. Everything about the room seemed to tie together with another aspect of the flat. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had a place like this.

He notices your inquisitive look, “It’s supposed to be a secret. Though almost everyone important knows this is where they’ll find me if I disappear without an explanation.” Jaehyun moves towards the small kitchenette, fetching a glass of water befoer placing it on a coaster on the glass coffee table by your legs.

You wait for a second, acknolwedging the glass of iced water, then look up, meeting his hesitant gaze, “Everything’s green.”

It wasn’t a deep green either, more like a soft earthy green. Maybe a sage colour, but you were mostly going off of the presence of the plants and the colour of the sofa. Some of the counters in his one-person kitchen were a soft green, accented with wood countertops and a pastel fridge. It was soothing on your eyes, you had to admit.

He nods, unsure what you’re getting at, “Yeah…?”

“The first and second time I met you, you exclusively wore red. And it was glittery,” you point out, one wordlessly eyebrow raised.

He tilts his head, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he stuffs his hands in his jogging bottom pockets, rattling his keys in his pockets, “Just because I wear red doesn’t mean my whole life revolves around that primary colour.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into the sofa cushion, tenderly crossing your arms, “Well, no. I guess not,” you let your headrest on a pillow he slips behind your neck discreetly, “I suppose… I just assumed that you did,” you shrug your shoulders, “wasn’t something I gave much thought to.”

Jaehyun kicks off his trainers and throws his keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. You could probably stick your arm over the back of the sofa and touch the pillar that separated the two areas if you tried hard enough adn weren’t brusied all over. He’s got a small smile on his face that brings his dimples out as he makes his way over to sit on the sofa with you, letting himself fall haphazardly onto the cushions. “So you thought about me, even a little.”

Ignoring his comment, you take in his flat to its fullest. You weren’t wrong, this man lived in a green, cottagecore aesthetic in his off-time. Admittedly you were a big fan of the wall of shelves stacked with different plants, mostly succulents and cactus -- the odd spine of a book eeking through -- and you even enjoyed the small desk that was home to a few depictions of watercolour flowers. Your eyes fall on the black figure, slinking under the legs of the glass coffee table pitched in front of you, making you flinch as you suppressed your reflex to jump; it was only a cat.

A cat man. Of course, he was.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow yours, “That’s Prim. She likes to keep to herself. Occasionally she curls up with me.”

“You made it sound like you rarely come here.”

“Mhm.”

“You have a cat.”

“I have a cat,” he affirms.

Prim disappears around the pillar into the kitchen. Jaehyun must’ve put down some food for her because you can hear her softly eating followed briefly by the sound of her lapping at a bowl of water.

“And plants.”

“Those too.” He’s not sure where you’re going with this, neither were you, but he was humouring it, seeing it through to the end if he got ot be in your presence longer.

Your eyes go back to wandering around the room, watching how the sun dips in between the curtains and cascades through the room. You had sat in the seat closest to the entrance, meaning Jaehyun’s back was to the window as he faced you while you were talking. He was still dressed in the outfit you assumed he slept in at the hospital. You were dressed in the same clothes you had gone in with, having had to change out of the gown they had provided when you left.

He looked so effortlessly pretty. It made you want to cry.

You suck in a breath and say, “I’m a little tired. Can I sleep… anywhere?”

He nods and jumpts to his feet before helping you to yours. Slowly, you make your way down the hall, almost all of your weight is beared on Jaehyun. He’s practically carrying you but neither of you mention it. It was only a small flat, something you couldn’t wrap your head around when he could probably have anything he liked, and so it only had one bedroom.

Initially, you had put up a fight but he simply said he wasn’t tired and there was a box room he could get a bed into if the sofa wasn’t comfortable enough (it was but you weren’t okay with the fact that he was giving up his bed). You lay on your side, a body pillow supporting your small frame. You were so tense, worried about Soobin and Dan-ah and Mina and your Mum and Dad and Hyejin as she was probably the only friend of yours who regularly checked in. There was so much running through your mind and you almost don’t notice Jaehyun’s soft palm gripping yours, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had seen the anxious look on your face and had guessed that you were psychoanalysing everything in your head, cogs turning. He wanted to subtly draw you out from your thoughts... so he let a little of his power surge through his fingertips and into your palm, hoping it was enough to make you woozy.

Without much thought to it, you rested your head on his pillow and fell asleep.

Jaehyun stays, for a minute or two, holding your hand until your grip weakens, your breathing becomes heavier and your chest goes into a steady rise and fall. He watches, as you lay, unbothered by the world outside. You looked at peace. At home.

Was this the first time you had been able to wind down like this?

He sighs, wriggling his hand from under yours and gets up to leave before he pulls a brown monochrome blanket over your frame. A slight frown etches itself on your forehead as your fingers twitch, looking for the hand Jaehyun had slipped away, before you subconsciously grip the blanket and curl into it instead, the frown erasing itself from your face, leaving you looking at peace once again.

You wake up to the sun going down outside, a blanket covering your body and pillows squished underneath to support your body.

You’re tender. That’s safe to say.

The room was airy; Jaehyun had left the window on the latch and the door cracked open so as to not make it stuffy. Glancing around, you notice the simplicity of it. Bed, side table, lamp and wardrobe. It differed massively from the rest of his flat. Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to decorating substantially in here.

You get up, perching yourself on the edge of the bed before making your way out of the room. Shuffling along, you cling to the wall as you know full well you shouldn’t be venturing around by yourself and make your way to the living room, “Jaehyun?” you call. The calling stops when you spot Jaehyun with an open book lying in his lap while he snores lightly, passed out on the sofa. The corners of your mouth twitch, curling into a smile at the sight of him so peaceful.

You hold out your arm, inspecting the bandage on it. You sigh, “I need a shower.”

You turn back, headed towards what you assumed was the bathroom. The door creaks open; thankfully, you were correct. There are fresh towels hanging on the rack and a laundry basket sits tucked into the corner. Stripping from your clothes gingerly, you turn on the shower. While it warms up you unwrap your bandages and softly poke the back of your head. You’re probably not supposed to submerge it yet so you work with what you can. The shower itself was a standalone that had frosted glass wrapped around it, hiding what was on the inside if anyone were to look in.

The whole ordeal was a show in itself, you carefully moving things about, trying not to knock anything all while trying to do your best with what you’ve got. It wasn’t the best situation in the world but it was the best out of the hand you were dealt. Having not been back to your flat to get anything, you didn’t have any of your usual hair products so you used the products that were already there and a lemon body wash that had been sitting patiently.

Eventually, you finish up with half-washed hair and a mostly clean body. Your fingers had pruned long ago and you took that as a sign to get out of the shower to stop using all the hot water.

You stepped out, and grabbed the towel off of the rack, wrapping yourself in them. They were so soft against your skin. Holding it tightly against your skin you move to stand in the middle of the bathroom. It wasn’t big but it had an oval mirror hanging above the sink. Staring at your reflection for a little, you internally pick apart everything you don’t like.

Staring with the obvious bruises. “I’ll heal,” you tell your reflection, “I won’t degrade myself like that again.” Your fingers brush against your towel-covered ribs, making you flinch. “He won’t do this to me again; I won’t let him,” you pause before whispering, “I’m not going back to him.”

By now, your eyes are watering a little so you sniffle and wipe the forming tears away before they’re given the chance to fall. You deserve better. You know this. “I deserve better. I am worth better.”

In the middle of this, Prim slinks through the crack of the door, making you jump a little. With your hand on your heart, you take deep breaths, watching as she jumps onto the closed toilet seat and sits down on a pile of clothes. A pile of clothes you don’t remember putting there. Your eyes widen at the thought of Jaehyun seeing you naked but then you whip your head to the shower walls, reminding yourself that they’re frosted and he would’ve only been able to see an outline at the most.

Prim purrs, drawing your attention back to her.

She blinks at you. She’s so calm. You reach the backside of your hand out so she can sniff it. After a quick sniff, she turns her head and rubs it into the palm of your hand. You gratefully accept her and let her continue to rub herself on you as you alternate between scratching the underside of her chin and the back of her head. She purrs in content and you let out a quiet giggle.

Jaehyun had been awake for the past ten minutes or so. He’d dug through his drawers, pulling out an old pair of jogging bottoms that he’d bulked out of but never gotten around to throwing out, a pair of clean underwear and a jumper that was currently his size but probably oversized on you. He’d slipped them onto the toilet seat (thank god it was so close to the door) without peeping past the sink and must’ve forgotten to pull the door up all the way on his way out.

He listens to Prim purring and you giggling softly from the safety of his sofa in the living room, a smile making its way onto his face. He had flicked on the table lamp on the end table by the sofa, continuing to read his book – A natural history of Dragons. Not as accurate as he remembers but a little light reading never did anyone any harm.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you looked fresh. Swamped in his jumper and bare feet padding across the panelled flooring. He looks up from his book, noticing you gradually making your way over to him, he jumps up, trying to help you. You looked cute with your sweater paw leaned up against the wall.

He tucks a hand under your armpit for leverage, you turn, a little surprised and open your mouth to say something but can’t bring yourself to when you realise how close your faces are. Jaehyun either doesn’t notice or pretends to not know, making you feel more embarrassed than you thought possible. His musk engulfs you, overriding your senses and you hesitate in your step.

“Oh,” you say, face hot to which you can only pray he doesn’t sense how he caught you off-guard, “you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, hands pulling you into him so he can use his body strength to help too. You feel goosebumps from his caring touch and you wonder about the last time someone treated you like this.

Since when did he become so domestic?

You brush it off and he helps lower you down to the sofa and Prim follows suit, helping herself to your lap as she curls into a ball, letting you run your fingers down her back in a soothing motion.

You could feel the heat rising up your neck at how close the two of you had been, your mind running to months before when you had been close to him. Before, you had been embarrassed about yourself as he was helping you out of the hospital but he had reassured you that you had nothing to worry about – the gentleman that he was – he didn’t want you to feel ashamed. So, you let yourself relax on his plush sofa cushions while he went about making something to eat for the both of you with a grin on his face, knowing all too well what he had inflicted upon you moments ago.

That’s how the next month or so went by. You pushed yourself to your limits, all of your minor injuries healed (somehow), and followed Jaehyun around while Prim followed you. As promised, Jaehyun brought home a bed for the box room to which you insisted on sleeping in since you were the one who was the guest but he had none of it. In the end, he dressed the room up nicely and it ended up looking like it had been there all along.

At first, Jaehyun hadn’t let you do any of the things you offered to do, especially the cooking. He had a large repertoire of recipes up his sleeve and wasn’t letting you do anything to strain yourself.

Your phone had briefly glitched the first time you turned it on, which was odd on a good day.

“Time passes differently here,” he had explained, “Einstein was right about that one; time is relevant. He almost caught us out one time with his research into it but Yuta turned him around and set him back on track again.”

To which he then had to explain to you who Yuta was. He sounded nice, harmless but what got you was the fact that there were more people like Jaehyun. You had yet to meet more than the man who stood in front of you as he explained that to you.

Weeks into your stay, he took you round to your place, helped you pick up your things and also helped you leave a thick layer of red glitter all over your now ex-boyfriend’s penthouse. He deserved it. According to Jaehyun, your ex was in the process of moving out, as per Jaehyun’s convincing argumentative skills.

You rang some of your family and friends, asking after them and telling them you were okay after it was established between you that you and Soobin were no longer together but the most heartbreaking one was between you and your niece. She had been there, she knew now, even if you didn’t want her too, she knew. You could only pray that it slowly faded from her memory, for her sake more than yours, as she grew older.

According to Hyejin (when she rambled to you on the phone as she bawled, bless her), Soobin had been given the sack and lost most of what he owned. He’d also been sporting a black eye for two weeks after you got out of the hospital. She had been the first person you rang but the small detail had slipped your mind until later that night. You tried not to outright weep tears of joy, knowing that he’d had even the tiniest bit of his own medicine fed back to him, followed suit by you quizzing Jaehyun to which he hid his knuckles behind his back as he walked in with a tray of sushi that had been delivered tonight as a treat before your anime marathon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t seen him,” he throws his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter after toeing off his shoes in the entrance of his flat.

Having had time to heal, you pull yourself to tuck your legs underneath you as you look over the back of the sofa. “Jaehyun,” you warn. Prim materialises from the depths of Jaehyun’s bedsheets, where you had left her earlier, to greet her beloved owner. She purrs against his leg and he leans down to scratch behind her ear.

“Y/n,” he says back, trying his best to match your tone.

Your eyes follow Prim, closely watching as she jumps onto the kitchen counter and paws at the key-bowl. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you nibble until you can form a sentence that wouldn’t betray you when it left the corners of your mind.

Thinking about it, you decide against arguing with him on it. If he was lying it wasn’t something that was going to stop you from hanging around him, so why push it? Because you wanted to know why. “You were out a while after you texted me you’d finished food shopping the other day, where’d you go?”

Jaehyun glances at you, his hair stood slightly on end as if he’d been running his hand through it, possibly one too many times. It was shorter than when you had first come into his care – you’d helped him one day to trim it. You’d also insisted that he let you do it because you used to cut your hair in the bathroom mirror. ‘Not the same,’ he had said but he had handed you the scissors all the same. He was still dressing for comfort, something that you appreciated when the evening came and the tv turned on. It was a small flat which meant a small-ish sofa. He wasn’t against wrapping an arm around you and the two of you had been known to fall asleep to a movie or two in recent weeks.

“Went to work, briefly. Gotta make sure everything’s on schedule; they’d practically die without me to ditto everything they’re already sure of,” he flashes you a grin that his dimples can’t escape, “it’s nice to be home.”

You murmur a response.

Scattering away, Jaehyun has a shower after being out and gets dressed quickly to return to you. He walks over to the kitchen, deciding to grab some things for the evening.

His back is turned to you now, he’s grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge, the glow of the light illuminating his face.

“I missed you.”

You… what?

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage was deafening. Had you just said that out loud? He turns to meet your frantic gaze, waiting for your response. He can barely breathe out the response, “I missed you too.”

He grins, sinking himself into the space next to you and slings his arm over the back, his hand resting close to your neck. “Awh, did you really?”

Your body practically recoils, turning back on itself, “No. I just wanted you to bring ice cream; I’ve been craving it all week.”

Instantly you regret your choice as he frowns slightly and turns away.

You’re forced to think about the countless nights you’d spent curled up in his bed, some of them the result of you weeping into one of his many pastel sweatshirts you adorned about your failed relationship with Soobin, others about how you had neglected to tell your family and friends about the situation you had been in for almost a year by the time Jaehyun had pulled you away from it. Most nights, Jaehyun heard you, upset and alone in the dark. In the beginning, he wasn’t sure what to do about it, part of him knowing that he should leave you to heal but the other part of him screaming that he shouldn’t let you suffer alone – shouldn’t let you think you’re in this alone when you’re most certainly not where he’s concerned.

The first time he had left you, not sure he had heard correct when he came back from work, groggy from the use of his powers and feeling like he needed to faceplant his pillow from the exhaustion. You had stopped, little sniffles being masked by the vibrations of Prim’s purring against your body where she had hopped up on the bed to comfort you, when you thought Jaehyun was listening, hoping that he would leave you to hurt for a short while longer.

He had sensed your hesitation and made his way to the shower, deciding he needed to be fresh for the next morning.

He was oddly caring. Not that it was odd for someone to care but it was odd for someone to care this much and for the person to be Jaehyun was the cherry on top.

Turning back to face you, he grins, “Wanna watch that anime you were telling me about? I googled it last night and read some forums; apparently it’s good.”

Your eyes light up, “Sword Art Online? Yes please.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, chuckling to himself at how eager you are. He loved when you showed interest in things like this. His auburn hair falls into his eyes as he skims through whatever application he had pulled up (Netflix; no chill) while you weren’t looking and he breathes softly through his nose, concentrating on the screen in front of him.

Once again, you were studying him. It had been a long time since you had arrived. Time is relevant, true, but how much time is too much time?

The sun had set an hour or so ago now and you had already eaten some of the takeaway earlier as neither of you had been interested in cooking. You wondered if he knew how the table lamp accentuated his face, the soft hue acting like his usual haze when he was in his suit – which you learned was the reason he practical glowed as he had since told you there was magic twined into the thread it was sewed together with – and made him look angelic. You wondered if he knew the camel sweats he was wearing made you want to cuddle him and nuzzle your nose into his side, somewhere that you felt more than safe to be. You wondered if he knew how much you liked it here and how you were apprehensive about going back to the real world full time.

You’d been out, of course, he couldn’t confine you to his flat even if he wanted to but he always made sure that there were the correct precautions in place. He was always here, anyway, choosing you over everything else so there was rarely a time where you could go out without him. Smiling to yourself, you remind yourself that you don’t think you’d want to go by yourself when there’s a perfectly good Jaehyun waiting for you.

His hair fell in soft waves on his forehead, and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why he couldn’t find Sword Art Online for you two to watch. The two of you had fallen into a routine, he pats his leg, signalling for you to lay your head down on his lap as he pulls a pillow from behind him for you to rest your head on.

Shifting your body, careful of your ribs still, you lay down and wrap a hand under his leg for leverage, being sure to keep it closer to the back of his knee than his thigh as it was easier to curl your hand. He didn’t mind because when you sat and watched horror movies you would squeeze his leg in anticipation for a jump scare of sorts. He thought it was cute.

Eventually, he finds it, “Here we go,” he mumbles, clicking on the first episode. You settle in, pushing your face further into the cushion as Jaehyun lets his hand rest on your shoulder, somewhere safe for him to touch. His other hand plays with your hair absentmindedly as the episode begins, showing the people who had been waiting for the game to come out so that they could play it.

It remains like this, you making comments here and there, ooh’s and ah’s coming form both of you as you talk about the episode before it rolls over to the next one. At one point, he says something that makes you sit up completely, throwing him off as your warmth leaves his body.

“Did you just suggest that Kirito could be –”

His eyes widen, “I merely suggested that he –”

You scowl, pout and cross your arms, your cardigan falling off your shoulder at an angle, “No! You said what you said. It’s out there now, in the cosmos, for all to judge. You can’t take it back.”

He’s looking at you, first with shock but then with an expectant look. All you were doing was arguing over anime. You’re not sure you remember seeing him like this, eyes filled with something you cannot describe. Is this what being loved feels like? The flying thought catches you off guard and you hold your breath. He wonders if you know that’s how he’s feeling, how he’s seeing you. The rose-tinted filter settled in and he was determined to keep it that way for a long time.

Jaehyun had got dressed after his shower into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and joined you on the sofa while you were watching the back end of a drama you had been meaning to watch for months before you had switched over to anime. It was your thing; watching anime together.

His hand reaches to rest on the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek and fingers splaying down to reach your neck and brings his face closer to yours, making your breath hitch. The last time you had been like this neither of you were thinking in coherent thoughts. At this point, you’d spent months with him, hiding from your family and friends – only partially as you had wanted to gain your confidence back again and go back with a real job.

His hair was still drying on the ends where he hadn’t bothered to towel dry it. It brushed against your forehead as he brought his forehead to rest on yours, savouring the moment.

Breathily, you manage to say his name.

He hums in response, eyes trained diligently on your lips, waiting for your response. He doesn’t notice how you watch him watching you, he’s enamoured. He loved when you looked like this. So carefree. So pure. So… pretty.

“Kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait any longer.

Lips centimetres form yours, he gives you the opportunity to change your mind but you bring your lips to his, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His fingers stay on your face while your hands have yet to find somewhere to be placed – something that Jaehyun notices – so he picks up your hand and curls it around the back of his neck before wrapping his own around the small of your back, a smirk finding its home on his face.

Feeling more confident, you bring your free hand to splay across his cheek, thumb mindlessly rubbing the dip where his dimple becomes prominent. His hair stands on end on the back of his neck, the sensation of your fingers brushing his face so calmly as he pulls your lower lip between his having caused goosebumps to form down his arms.

Secretly, he was glad he was wearing his sweatshirt so that you couldn’t see how sensitive he was to you.

Jaehyun leans gradually away and you chase his lips, not wanting to forget the feeling any time soon. All of the time you had spent with Soobin and yet none of the moments you had shared felt like this. It made your heart pound and the butterflies were making their way up, tickling your diaphragm as you struggle to breathe.

“Y/n,” he begins, lids heavy and forehead pressed to yours. He’s not really sure what he wants to say… how does one express the euphoria they feel from finally doing the right thing and knowing it’s the right thing? Because that’s how Jaehyun felt. You knew he wanted to say something so you lightly prompt him.

“Jae… what are you thinking?”

His lids close and he bumps his nose with yours, lips parted, “I want to kiss you like that more often.”

You giggle, which throws him off, “Do you?” He looks up to meet your wandering gaze through his lashes, “because I want to kiss you like that more often, too.”

He grins, tightening his grip around your waist, pulling you in until you’re straddling his lap. “Oh yeah? How about I do just that, then.” His lips return to yours. You noticed that Jaehyun’s lips tasted of cherry chapstick, and you loved that, deciding to part the seal of his mouth with your tongue to devour the taste further.

The subtle curve of his lips was something you didn’t want to forget – that was for sure. You work on memorising this feature and lightly tug at the tufts of hair at the back of his head, making him moan into your mouth ever so slightly.

“That was adorable,” you mumble against his lips, lowering yourself so your bum is resting on the heels of your feet either side of his thighs.

His face flushes but he pretends to not notice and instead lets his hands roam until they’re palming the globes of your ass.

This shocks you into action a little, the squeezing fingers forcing you to lift and lean on your knees, breasts pushed up against his chin as you continue to kiss him.

As you slipped your tongue to mingle with his, you decided then and there that you were absolutely in love with kissing him. Possibly smitten, just a tiny bit.

You had worn a tank top and a light cardigan for comfort around the flat, not wanting to pull jeans on and a blouse every morning and instead opting for leggings and light-tees regularly. You weren’t sure what kind of man Jaehyun was, an ass or boob man but something igniting inside you and hardening in his sweatpants told you that you were going to find out pretty damn soon.

Pulling away you offer a small smile at him, he grins, like he knows he’s about to get a present he’s been waiting for ages for. Ironic, considering his job profession.

You bite your lip and let your hands fall down to his arms, running your palms up and down his biceps. By now the episode had rolled over and was about 10 minutes into the next but you and Jaehyun were far too distracted, you figured it would have to wait. It would still be there tomorrow when you could rewatch it and continue your marathon.

His own hands rest below the curve or your breasts, thumbing at the swell.

You dip your head, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting your tongue peak out and swirl its way down to his neck. Peppering kisses against his tan skin you pick a spot where he makes the most fuss when you reach it and bruise it with your lips. He groans at the feeling of your lips tainting his skin so skillfully and thinks about how you went to waste on someone like your ex before him. His breathing grows heavy and his fingers run up and down your back in a soothing manner, toying with the hem of your tank top every time his fingers brush the bottom.

“Oh my God,” he breathes out when you’re finished.

You giggle, “What?”

You had slipped your cardigan off, letting it fall in a heap on the floor and hooked your fingers under your shirt before throwing it across the room.

Gazing up at you, you can practically see the hearts spinning around his head. You knew that if this was a Looney Toon cartoon, his eyes would’ve been pounding hearts right about now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs as you press a closed mouth kiss to his jaw, “…pretty girl.”

You were left in a dark pair of leggings and your t-shirt bra. It wasn’t anything fancy (you were here for comfort, for god’s sake) but Jaehyun looked at you like you had put all the stars in the sky yourself, something you were unfamiliar with. Pride swells in your chest and lust swells in your core.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something?” You tease. He merely smirks, enjoying what he hasn’t even done yet, and buries his head between your breasts.

You let out a small “Oof” noise and steady yourself on his shoulders. Leaning on your feet normally would’ve been enough but when he stuck his head between your boobs it had knocked you slightly off balance. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, pressing crescetn moons into his skin, but Jaehyun takes no notice as he noses his way to a fleshy spot and attaches his lips.

“Smell so good,” he’s referring to the perfume you had brought with you when you cleaned out your apartment. “Wanna taste,” he mumbles into your boobs. Your panties dampen at the confession, not knowing completely how to respond without crying out a moan.

Unshockingly so, this was one of the few tinmes you had felt like the only girl in the world, not to quote Rihanna, but it was truly a moment you had no desire to forget any time soon.

Instinctively, your hands retire to the back of his head, pulling him closer whilst he goes to town on a hickey he’s suckling into your skin.

Pulling back, he grins, “Perfect.” He’s admiring his handiwork but it still sends the stupid butterflies contained in your abdomemn stir crazy when his gaze meets yours, filled with lust, love, adoration – whatever you want to call it, his eyes contained it. Lids low and mind focused, his hand snakes behind your body to unhook your bra but you stop him.

In fear of pushing you too far he drops his hand and waits, eyes wide for what had stopped you.

“I-I haven’t – no – I don’t…” you struggle to find the correct words in front of Jaehyun, the cool breeze making you shiver in the slightest.

“What is it, angel?” He brings his hands to your waist, rubbing slow circles to calm you.

“Soobin,” you exhale. It was all Jaehyun needed to know so he took a deep breath.

He’s watching you as he says, “I don’t care. That was then… this is now.”

You nod. His features twist into a smile, images of that night coming back to him, “Plus I already fucked you against the –”

Your hand finds itself pressed across his mouth in the blink of an eye, praying he doesn’t finish that sentence, “I know,” you squeak before emphasising, “I was there.”

He tilts his head and offers a mischievous glint, “I thought you didn’t think I was real, simply a figment of your imagination, if I do remember correctly.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, “Stop with that! You showed up, dressed in red and in the middle of the night after I’d written a letter that only I could know the contents of. Who’s to say you weren’t an incubus, huh?”

A single eyebrow is raised on his part.

“And you were gone before I woke up,” you mumble against his neck, now enticed by his scent again, “I never told anyone because it sounds wild, right? You have to admit that part at the very least.”

That made him take a second to process, “I never thought of it like that,” he mumbles, pressing feather-light kisses up your arm.

“It was something I thought about for a while,” you meekly replied to his unasked question.

“Well,” he begins, “you don’t have to worry any longer,” and presses his lips to your clavicle, fingers unclasping your bra behind you, this time you let him, sighing into his golden touch, boobs pressed against his chest. He groans at the feeling or your unclothed, hardened nipples cutting in on his pecs. You sling your bra across the room, not giving much thought or care towards where it ended up as there were more pressing matters you cared about.

Your neck is tipped back as his tongue dips to the valley of your breasts, he places an endearing kiss to your sternum and sets his sights onto your nipples.

Hand resting on the nape of his neck, you arch into the feeling of his wet mouth latching onto your nipple, peak caught between his tongue and teeth as he teases you, and tug on his hair.

He savours this, moaning before switching to your other nipple, not wanting to leave one without the same amount of attention. At this point, your panties are embarrassingly soaked from all of the stimulation.

“You’re so good to me,” you whine, not talking about just this very moment. You’re reminiscing about the past couple of months you’ve spent in his care too and something tells you that he knows that too.

He releases your nipple from his lips and glances up at you, “Is that so, angel?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, not sure what he wants you to say or what you should say to keep the mood going, “all the time. Miss you so much because of it,” you pout slightly, not wanting to draw too much from the conversation in case things went sideways.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, resting either side and pinch lightly, toying with him. “Keep me happy,” you state before leaning down to kiss him again. His eyes flutter close and you trail your hands down his abdomen, pressing harder with your nails as you slide them down to the hem of his jumper.

“Off,” you mutter against his lips. He gladly complies, you were topless and it was only fair he comes level with your nakedness. When you part momentarily to lift it over his head, your hungry eyes zone in on how constricted his hardened dick was within the confines of his sweatpants.

Jaehyun notices this, ruffled hair askew and mind now clear from the fog you had bestowed upon him when you had kissed him. He knew what he wanted, did you want it too?

Without hesitation, you palm the outline of his dick over the sweatpants, wanting to see his reaction. You were best pleased when he fights the urge to roll his eyes but bites his lip to stop himself from thrusting into your silky touch. Not that he’d felt that today, just yet.

You stifle a giggle, “Eager, pretty boy.”

One kiss is placed to his lips before you slip off of his lap, knees thudding as they land on the floor. You hook your index fingers around the waistband of his sweats and underpants, the tell-tale Tommy band staring back at you, knowing he would comply but you only pull them down just enough to free his weeping cock.

It springs up, slapping against his abdomen, veins prominent from the grining you had been doing earlier. Your mouth waters at the sight and you lick your lips, praying that it lives up to your expectations.

You give him a few slow strokes of your nails up him and one of his hands reaching up to push a few stray strands of hair form your face.

He groans when you finally wrap your slender fingers around his shaft, thumb wiping the leaking tip of his swollen mushroom head. It throbbed a pretty shade of pink, much like his lips, after you pressed a delicate kiss to the top.

“So, so good to me, angel,” are the words that leave his lips when you lick your own before dipping your head to lick up the underside. You offered a devilish smile and lowered your hot mouth onto his throbbing length slowly, wanting to savour every second and push Jaehyun to his limit.

You hum in agreeance to his statement, sending a shiver up his spine and eliciting a moan from him, his hands quickly tangling themselves in your loose hair as he makes a make-shift ponytail to keep your hair out of your face.

Once your jaw has adjusted to the burn of his girth, he helps you bob your head up and down, curling the ponytail around one hand and using that as leverage. Flattening your tongue, you press it to the underneath of his length. You experiment with seeing how much you can take as it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimate with someone like this. One of your manicured hands reaches down to tickle his balls – a trick Hyejin had taught you the last time you were having one of those conversations – and he all but thrusts up into your throat, making you clench your legs and rub them together for some friction as your eyes close tight, forcing tears to run down your face.

“Oh fuck, I don’t think I can ah-” he lifts you off of his dick and brings your mouth to his, pressing hard against your own.

You’re flushed from his abrupt actions but that doesn’t stop you from stripping yourself of your leggings when he practically begs you to. Unsure what he wants next, you fiddle until he instructs you, “Those too,” he gestures to your panties. They weren’t grand but, had you not been about to get it on with possibly the hottest and most caring man you’ve come across, you would’ve been embarrassed about him seeing them in any normal situation.

Once they’re discarded, he stands, shimmys out of his sweats and pants and brings you close to him and guides a leg to wrap around his waist, rock hard dick pressed between your two sweaty bodies.

He kisses you hard, a clash on tongue and teeth; it’s one of the messiest kisses you had ever been on the receiving end of but ultimately still one of the best you’ve been able to experience, and lowers the two of you onto the sofa.

Again, you’re perched on your heels. He breaks the kiss, looking between your bodies to align himself with your entrance. “I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters against the column of your throat.

“Wha-”

He waits no longer before slipping himself into your core impossibly easily, as he sets a killer pace.

Squealing, you let your head fall onto his shoulder as you try your best to thrust down as much as he thrusts up into you but it was proving difficult as he suckled sweetly on the juncture where your neck and shoulder met – sending your senses into overdrive.

“S-so tight,” he breathes out, trickles of sweat forming in his hairline. One of the few brain cells you have working tells you the clench on his next thrust, only making him moan louder than before. In response, he ups the pace, setting his sights on destroying your sweet pussy.

Knowing full-well that he hadn’t tasted your arousal like he had originally intended, he brings his finger to dance across your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves until you were whining, hips stuttering as your vision hazes, unsure of how to control yourself. Still unable to match his deadly pace, you settle on tensing your legs and hovering above him where he pounds upwards, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing around the room.

You knew that by the time he was going to be finished, your ass was going to be tainted red from where his balls were slapping your underside as he pounds into you.

“Jaehyun,” you barely manage to breathe out, “fu… fuck.” Not what you were going for so you give it another try, “Jae… kiss.”

His eyes linger on your disheveled features. You open your eyes and look down at him, worried that he hadn’t heard you. His eyes meet yours; you pout, “Kiss me, p-ah–” one particularly strong thrust ignites inside you, the tell-tale sign of your orgasm about to snap through you; halts your half-hearted attempt at riding him.

He captures your lips with his, nibbling on your lip before licking it as if to heal it. His fingers are still rubbing tiny circles in your clit that send you over the edge and into complete euphoria, spine arching.

Within milliseconds, your vision is blurring and eyes unfocus, switching for white dots across your line of sight to pair with the white hot pleasure ripping through your core. “Ah,” you whine, “oh... Jae-Jaehyun,” your voice breaks, not being able to comprehend the possibility of more thanone thing happening at once.

As you clamp down on him unintentionally, he groans, unable to hold back any longer and empties his load inside your trembling pussy, cursing as he does.

Moments pass before he can bring himself to say anything, “You’re so perfect, angel. So pretty and perfect.”

You lift your head to look at him. At his fucked-out face you melt into him, swety bodies gradually becoming one and sliding off of his softening cock so you can wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle closer to him. He brings his arms around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and breathing sharply through his nose.

“You’re so good to me. Can’t remember the last time someone fucked me that good,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. You have one hand raking your fingers through his hair. You breathe out a laugh as he shivers at the feeling.

Knowing that was probably an ego boost enough, you press a languid kiss to the side of his mouth, not really paying much attention to where your lips landed. Continuing to pepper him with kisses, he stirs slightly, not wanting all of this attention to go to waste.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, holding you from your waist before slowly lowering you onto the sofa beside him so your back is flat.

You’re barely holding it together, Jaehyun’s cum trickling down the side of your leg from your sore hole. He pushes your legs apart, one falls haphazardly off of the sofa and the other is pressed between his side and the back of the sofa. He doesn’t care, though, bringing two fingers up to meet your quivering core.

“What are you doi – ah!”

A lazy grin spreads across Jaehyun’s face, his fingers now covered in yours and his essence as he stuffs it back into you. The overstimulation makes you quiver but he was determined about making you suffer. “So pretty with my cum stuffed inside you, angel, so pretty.”

By now, you’re convinced he’s drunk but you don’t put it past yourself to consider yourself just as drunk on him as he is on you. You squirm, not wanting him to continue as his fingers repeat their actions. “O-oh, too much,” you whimper, “sore, so fucking sore baby.”

You knew you probably could’ve handled a little more but he obliges, not wanting to scare you away (as if that was even possible) and finishes by pushing his fingers past your lips, coaxing you to lick them clean.

Gladly, you do as he was silently suggesting.

He groans, his dick twitching but he ignores it, knowing you’re still healing and by the state of you currently, you probably weren’t up for another round. Instead, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the bathroom, feet wobbling a few times on the way before getting to the bathroom.

“Gotta clean up, angel.”

You mumble, putting your legs to use and absently moving to switch the shower head on, soaking both of you in the stall. The water is freezing but you make no complaints, wanting to settle the heat radiating from your body. Jaehyun says nothing too. He just helps you clean yourself as you’re making a half-hearted effort – this makes him chuckle.

Twenty minutes later, the both of you are laying on his bed (the one he gave up for you), snuggled into each other.

For the first time in a long time, you slept in the crook on an arm where you felt safe, possibly loved (that would have to be addressed another time).

While you lay, breathing slowly as you listen to his heartbeat, Jaehyun has his head propped up with one arm and his other arm rests on your side, t-shirt that he had lent you riding up on the side, fingers running up and down as he takes in the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips.

Jaehyun was smitten.

a/n: hi hello. how, uh, how was it? feel free to leave me some feedback or pop in my ask box. you’re all my angels. i just like posting to post sometimes but interaction is p darn cool too. lyl <3

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