#last thing i want to do is bother him ever so i just need to give him space from me

[gglitch1dd]

Hi glitch!!! I love your writing and hope you’re doing well! I had a quick question, I remember you writing about how Koda gets sick often, has there ever been a time where they thought he wasn’t gonna make it through? (Also Please take care of yourself and ignore this if you don’t want to respond, it’s ok!) love you!!! - pigeon🐦

NGL, first thing I said when i saw the bird was "I GOT A NEW ANON AND IT'S A PIGEON!!!!" Hi Pigeon!! This is such a beautifully heartwrenching prompt because as a kid who was in the PICU, I can't imagine how scary it must be for parents. I deeply relate to Koda, and if anyone has noticed, he is almost ALWAYS sleeping. Like he's always sleeping in prompts and it isn't because he's lazy.

Koda

Warning: Sickness, mention of blood, death scare, sick infant.

Your eyes opened before you felt ready for them to be opened. You knew your alarm was about to ring anyways so you did not even try to go back to bed. You let out a soft groan as you shifted in bed, about to grab your phone to check the time.

You felt the warm large arms of your husband snake up behind you and pull you closer to him. He kissed the side of your head. "I'll wake up the kids." He whispered down to you, his voice low with sleep but he was awake enough to sense you shuffling. You nodded your head with a grateful hum, allowing him to get up and out of bed.

You had spent majority of the night, waking up and checking on your youngest. Koda was barely just two years old now and he had a nasty cough. You were not sure where it came from or how it had gotten so bad but he had just gotten a fever last night and you were worried for him. You knew Izuku had work in the morning so you stayed by your son's side almost the entire night. He seemed stable for a moment so you decided to get at least an hour of solid sleep but the baby monitor was on just encase.

You lay there in bed drifting in and out but you couldn't sleep. Something just keeping you out of that restful state you so desired. You sighed, sitting up in bed, dragging your hands down your face. You looked at your phone at the side of your bed. It was time for his medication.

You shuffled out of bed, putting on your husband's hoodie and shuffling out of your bedroom. You heard the sounds of your son's making their way out of their rooms or already downstairs.

You saw Toshinori exiting his room. "Morning Mom." He greeted.

You gave him a gentle smile that didn't reach your eyes. "Morning Toshi. Please make sure your brother's eat their dinner." You told him.

Toshinori glanced at the door with Koda's name on it, his eyebrows furrowing more but he nodded, showing you he understood. "Of course." He could see the bags under your eyes and knew that you needed to be tapped out. He left to go downstairs where his father was getting breakfast started no doubt.

You entered Koda's room. You walked over to your little toddler's bed. His curtains still drawn with a painted tree near his bed. You crouched onto the mat. You put a hand to your little boy's tummy.

Luckily he was still covered by his blanket but his wheeze was still there, worse though. He had short gasping breaths, almost as if he couldn't bring enough into his chest. His hair was a darker green being wet with sweat during the night. Your eyebrows furrowed. You shook his body gently, not wanting to scare him. "Koda. Koda, baby, wake up." You spoke softly to him. You rubbed his chest gently over his pyjama he was in.

However, Koda didn't wake up.

"Koda, my baby." You tapped his arm. He didn't stir nor did he move. "Koda. Koda?" You shook him a bit more, but he didn't stir. You felt anxiety trickle into your body as you looked down at your son. You moved to sit him up but it was almost as if he was dead-weight, not even bothered by you moving him. "Koda! Koda wake up!" You moved him into your arms, putting his head on your shoulder as you grabbed his blanket. He coughed, making you turn his head to look at him.

He coughed more in sleep, deep wet coughs that had you whincing as his little chubby face twisted to one of pain. You pat his back gently, making sure to sit him up in your arms.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay."

His skin was hot, almost as if he was a furnace burning from the inside. You pat his back, trying to allow him to cough out whatever phlegm was stuck in his throat. Suddenly you heard him cough and on the blanket you wrapped him in, you saw red.

You stilled at the sight of blood, coming from your son. You quickly moved to grab a cloth. You quickly wiped his mouth, trying to get the blood off of him. "Koda?" You moved to quickly grab a wipe and wipe his face, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead. He still didn't rouse despite the coughs.

Then suddenly you didn't hear the wheeze of his breathing.

You moved his face to look up at you. "Koda. Baby, wake up." You moved your fingers to his neck and then you realised he wasn't breathing. "KODA!" You shouted. You quickly moved down onto your knees as you put your hands. Your heart was racing. Your youngest boy, you're little one, your last one, he wasn't breathing and you didn't know what to do. "IZUKU!" You screamed your husband's name as you quickly wiped your fingers before sticking them inside Koda's mouth trying to make sure his airway was free.

You quickly gave him a mouth-to-mouth, giving a rescue breath. You gave him another one. Finally you heard him choke. You quickly got off of him as he turned to his side and coughed out more blood.

You heard heavy footsteps run up the stairs before in the entranceway you saw your husband. He opened his mouth to ask what the matter was but his pupils shrunk at the sight of his two year old coughing out blood.

You turned to him with a terrified look on your face. "GET THE CAR!" You quickly picked up your little boy, moving him into your arms and grabbing a new blanket for him. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. Mommy's here."

You whispered as you tapped his back, reassuringly. You quickly ran out of his room, trying to get to the stairs.

"Toshinori! Call aunty Mina, tell her to take you boys to school!" You heard your husband shout as he grabbed his keys.

Toshinori stood up from the dinner table, wondering what was going on. You raced down the stairs, making sure to hold onto Koda as best as you could. Then you finally heard crying from him. Pained cries from your little baby as woke up. "Mamma." The tired agony tone of his little voice made tears appear in your eyes.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. Momma's here. It'll be okay." You quickly moved to grab your jacket. "Toshinori, we're taking your brother to the hospital!" You shouted as you raced outside where Izuku had reversed the car.

You quickly hopped into the back seat of the car, slamming it shut as your husband quickly hit the gas and the both of you were speeding through your estate. You held Koda tightly as you looked down at him, holding him safely. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay." You spoke sweetly. By his little twisted face, you could tell he was in agony.

Izuku glanced back at the both of you but tried focusing on the road. He knew he couldn't just fly you both to the Hospital because Koda was too young for that. "What happened?" He asked, a lot more calmer than you. You could see the worry in his eyes and on his brows, but you knew he was in hero mode, a safer mindspace to be in than dad mode. Because you knew as a father, Izuku must be terrified.

"I don't know." You said rushed. "He wouldn't wake up and then he just stopped breathing and coughing up blood." You reported back to your husband who was practically speeding down the highway. You held Koda as you made sure he was breathing still. "Izuku, he's so small. What if... what if-"

"He's going to be fine." Your husband affirmed with a frown on his face as he focused forward on the road, his hands tight around the wheel in a white knuckled grip. He moved to grab his phone as he dialed a number.

"ProHero Deku, Good mor-"

"Prepare the emergency unit, my son, 2, he's coming in."

Immediately you heard shuffling. "Can you give me symptoms?" The nurse at the desk spoke as she typed away at her computer.

Izuku's green eyes glanced back at your son in the rear-view mirror. "Wet cough, coughing up blood, fever, cold sweats and shiver."

"How long has he had the cough?"

"Two weeks, but blood only started about five minutes ago."

It was silent for a moment before she let out a hum. "We'll be waiting for you, Deku. God speed."

Izuku put down the call as he focused back on the road, glad that it was still early in the morning before the morning traffic got too intense.

The hospital felt like an eternity away but you both finally made it. Izuku stopped the car allowing you to run inside the emergency. You quickly ran into the emergency, your son gasping for air.

Standing not even five meters away were nurses in paediatric scrubs and a doctor in a white coat. "Over here Mrs Midoriya."

You quickly ran over to them and hand ed them your little boy. Just then, your husband ran in as the team seemed to carry him away on a bed much too big for his small body. You wished you could follow him but you knew you couldn't. Not now anyways.

Izuku put his arm around you, being the only thing that was holding you up.

It took ages, hours were you were left sitting there, waiting for any news. You prayed that your boy was alive, that his heart was still beating on this earth.

Your husband had left for a few hours, making sure the boys were okay, grabbing some clothes and a bag for your son, putting in family leave for the day, before coming back to be at your side. It took another hour before you finally heard news.

"Mr and Mrs Midoriya." You both stood up as the doctor came back to you. Izuku had an arm around you, keeping you up on your feet. He had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time. The doctor gave you a gentle smile. "He's stable." You let out a held in breath at that, feeling tears fall from your eyes as you covered your face.

Izuku pulled you into his side, allowing you to hold onto him. "What was it?"

"Pneumonia." He answered truthfully. "However, after multiple tests, considering how many times Koda has been to the hospital since his birth, we decided to check for anything that might have been the cause for such an extreme case so young. It seems as though your son has an Autoimmune disorder."

You and your husband were speechless at that news. You looked up to Izuku who's eyebrows furrowed. "And... how much would this effect him?" He asked.

The doctor's mouth went into a straight line as he sighed. "Most likely, his entire life. What might be just a light cough or small cold for us could become life and death for him."

You closed your eyes as you buried your face into your husband side. For some reason you felt horrible. He was so young. He didn't deserve this. Why couldn't you have given him a healthy body?

Izuku moved his hand up and down your back as he played the stronger one for the both of you. "Is there no active cure or something to enhance his immune system?"

The doctor shook his head. "No. Other than the prescriptions, medications, vitamins and appointments prescribed to him, there isn't much you can do. He's alright now but for the benefit of his safety, we'd like to run tests on him and keep him in the PICU until further notice."

Izuku nodded his head, trying to wrap his head around this. "Do what you have to to keep our son alive. But this came from..."

"It is just something some people develop, and considering neither you or your wife carry it on any X chromosome, it seems as though it is just something part of him."

"May we see him?"

The doctor hesitated but sighed. He nodded his head. "You may, however you won't be able to touch him. The room is kept sterile and away from any sorts of possible allergens or infections to keep him safe. Just to be safe while he's so critical, you can only see him behind a glass."

Izuku nodded, trying to bite back the fighting spirit that told him to fight to have his son back in his arms. "Give us a moment, please." The doctor nodded before leaving. Izuku turned to look down at you. You were trying to bite back sobs as you cried into his chest. He moved to pull you into a proper hug. He wasn't entirely sure what to say. There was nothing to say.

But at least he was alive.

You sniffed as you stepped back but stayed holding his arm. You nodded your head, wiping your face, telling him that you were ready to go.

The both of you followed the doctor to the paediatric wing. Despite the cute characters painted on the wall and the colourful scrubs, you both could barely think about it.

You were both led to a window that looked into an isolated room. In the bed closest to the glass, lying weakly in bed was your Koda. His green hair and eyes closed as he lay pale and drained in bed. You covered your mouth as you tried to fight yourself not to cry again, but you couldn't help it.

"My baby..." You whispered as you stepped closer to the glass, a hand there, trying to reach him through it. You could barely stand to see it. Such a little body with tubes and machines keeping him alive and healthy. Your little boy didn't deserve this.

You closed your eyes as you turned away. Izuku stood behind you, a standing presence with you. His green eyes were soft as he looked at his son. Such a small thing that was fighting for his life.

You both knew that life would have to change a bit for the both of you, but if it meant that your son would be alive...

you'd pay any amount, climb any mountain, and pry the answers from someone's cold dead hands to do so.

-Glitch1d

[echantedtoon]

YANDERE DEMONS AND BRIDES

Been thinking about this for a while now and I don't know if it counts as yandere but it is how the demons take a bride (or husband for the lady demons unless you also want to imagine that it's a lady.)Yeah. I know old trope but I really like this trope and I wanted to make headcannons for the Upper Moons. I think they'd all have a certain main element fueling that desire for their specific Bride(or Groom for the ladies).

When it comes to the lady demons like Nakime I'll leave Y/n's gender up in the air for anyone to interpret if the ladies also get a wife or if you prefer them to get a husband.

Warnings for yandere-ish (???) themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, mentioned wounds and scars, mentioned illness, mentioned bad vision, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume in the line up as part of Gyutaro's part but she will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her and reader!! And her parts will be minor.

KOKUSHIBO:

HARBORMENT

-You have to be a very specific kind of person to attract this man's attention. I think it'd most likely be one of two things that guarantee his bold interest. 1. you are a reincarnation of his wife or 2. you remind him of someone he used to love long ago but never could have especially if you were close to/was with Yoriichi. But whatever the case he finds himself taken by your familiar being.

-He doesn't even know why he bothers with it. But he can't help but watch you from afar. The old feelings resurfacing. He tells himself that it doesn't matter anymore. Most likely you wouldn't remember him even if you were a past lover, and even if you did you'd most likely believe him dead by now or want nothing to do with him.

-He is perfectly content with just watching you live out your life. He's learnt so much about you through just secretly watching. He learns your favorite tea, you love long walks at morning, you work just around the corner at a tailor shop.

-He's content until it no longer becomes enough. He starts to wonder. Do you still smile the way you used to? Do you still wear the same sweet perfume you did back then? He walks into your work one day in disguise. You weren't there being so late, but he ends up buying a Jacket you personally tailored.

-Muzan definitely knows about you. He knew the exact moment Kokushibo saw you. He just doesn't care and sorta lets Kokushibo get away with it being his most loyal demon. He doesn't allow his obsession to interfere with his missions and in turn Muzan is idgaf.

-He is a very traditional man and believes in courting a woman before marriage. In his mind you both are still married/together, he just needs to make you aware of it again. So he starts leaving small gifts for you when you're not around.

-At first you're confused but you think it's just a harmlessly sweet gesture from a secret crush. A few flowers on your doorstep every other night, maybe a small gift of a necklace or hair pin, however your quickly get freaked out when the gifts get TOO personal.

-You came to work one day and was freaked out when your boss handed you a decorative vase an 'admirer' left you for you after he overheard you mentioning it. (You only ever mentioned it once to you boss in private with no one else around.) Your boss is also slightly confused since they also hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

-You freak out more than ever when you come home and find a pair of wedding rings and a shiromuku(wedding kimono) laid out perfectly on your bed.

-Kokushibo sees nothing wrong with his behavior. As in his mind you both are still together, you are still his woman, and he's going to reclaim what is his own. This is just letting you know what he expects. He can't comprehend you'd be against this.

-He's not allowing you to go, especially after he lost you last time to his brother's affections. Whether these affections were platonic friendship or romantic lovers is up to you, but his internalized inferiority, jealousy, obsession, and greed won't allow him to let you go.

-You shriek when you first see him reveal himself. He doesn't understand why you're reacting like this. Don't you recognize your husband? You can't get away. He's holding you to him in an embrace as you freak out.

"Death may have stolen you from me..but I will deny the reaper of his claim to you once again."

DOUMA:

EMOTIONS

-Again you have to be very specific for these men to even consider taking you as a bride. For Douma, it'd be because of the way you make him actually feel things.

-However this ends up happening or when it does is entirely a thing all of its own but for the sake of not making this a mountain of a post, we'll leave that part up to whatever you interpret for now.

-The problem is that he has legit NO idea of what he's even feeling. He's never felt adoration, anger, happiness, etc so how is he supposed to know what this fluttery strange feeling in his chest is?

-So for a long while even he's not aware of his growing obsession with you. He just knows these feelings are not bad. He knows these feelings are coming from you. So somehow he deduced that you are the problem for his new predicaments.

-For this reason he has you looked over by the cults resident healer in case you're using some kind of sickness or chemistry stuff on him. Gets more confused when you are perfectly fine. Nevermind that demons couldn't get sick.

-You become weirded out by how clingy and stalkerish he's suddenly become overnight. He's not even aware he's doing it and if he is he doesn't care really. He just knows you're the cause of the fuzzy warmth in his chest and he's starting to like it.

-The only chance for you to escape is now while he's still confused on what he's feeling. Afterwards it's too late.

-EVERYONE notices his behavior and there's a mixed reaction to it all. Some congratulate you which you're so confused on and some express their happiness to their founder. Douma is just even more confused at it all. Eventually someone notices his confusion and asks him about it, then proceeds to explain what's he's feeling because he's not so sure himself.

-This revolution is mind blowing to him. He's literally the shocked Pikachu meme.

-In his mind as he thinks about it, technically he's been already courting you for nearly a year now. Showering you in affection and gifts and treating you like the goddess you were. So the next logical step would be marriage and that thought actually has him giddy at the thought of you in a shiromuku.

-You've been giving him subtle hints that you're uncomfortable the entire time but he either flat out ignores it or it just flies over his head.

-He randomly wakes you up in the middle of the night and asks if you're not busy the next day.

You blink at the shadowy creepily happy smiling figure too tired to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "I think?"

"Alright." He's silent for a moment. "I made us an appointment with a local priest."

You mumble a nothing response, still on the brink of sleep.

"Just remember to take the day off," he presses. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Uh huh." Your eyes won't even stay open.

"It's settled then. We'll get married tomorrow." He claps happily as he makes his leave. "Go back to sleep now, Lotus blossom."

He leaves and you breathe a sigh of relief as you snuggle into your bed again-

You jolt up. Did he say married?

AKAZA:

FAMILIARITY

-Akaza has never, has not, and never will harm a woman. He himself is unsure of his past where this stems from but he feels a familiarity to something deep but distant when he first meets you.

-You either are dealing with a similar illness Koyuki experienced, or you're a demon slayer whom had to retire due to injuries. Let's go with the second option for this one.

-Akaza had randomly heard recently that a demon slayer had to retire and was currently in the area he was in. He's always looking for a good fight so it's not a no brainer he'd seek you out. What he doesn't know was that this particular retired slayer was a woman. He doesn't realize this even when he first sees you until you horrified and scared seeing a demon in your home confirms that you are indeed the person he's looking for.

-Akaza is shocked. Not at the fact that there's a lady slayer (he's seen plenty of strong lady slayers) but at how you look. He's never seen a woman covered in so many wounds and scars even amongst other slayers. He's so stunned he asks you about it. You're more confused on why he doesn't outright end you, but you answer his question to avoid provoking him. An entire gang of demons has ganged up on you and if it weren't for a Haishira you'd be dead. However your current state left you unable to continue.

-He's angry. About a lot of things. How dare those lowlifes! HE'S obviously not gonna be getting a fight here. There's no way to release this anger- You're stunned as the angry demon just leaves without another word, but he takes it out on some rocks some miles away.

-Akaza ends up swinging by much to your growing horror and worry. He never comes close or makes threatening actions towards you, but you've seen him multiple times staring into your window or you'd see him in the distance barely visible through the darkness. It always freaks you out.

-Akaza doesn't mean to scare you, he just can't help but be curious about you. He finds himself thinking about you and your poor condition a lot. For some reason it pangs his heart seeing you limp about knowing it's permanent to your walking pattern or get angry when he sees people stare at you funny. He even ended a man who insulted your beauty by calling your battle scars unattractive not that you had any idea. He just..feels an odd need to give you care. It feels so... familiar. Second nature.

-He's just so entranced by you. Your smile, your gently nature, your kindness- Despite your losses and bad treatment you still treat everyone so gently. It makes his heart race with something so familiar yet so foreign.

-Reality shatters for him when he hears of your arranged marriage. After returning you had to move back with family who were all horrified to your condition. Their logic was that you needed to get married like a sensible woman and you should be grateful someone was willing to put up with you as a wife.

-In Akaza's view no one would ever treat you like you deserved. He knew he could care for you like he did for-... Someone that makes his head fog. HE CAN'T LET HIM TAINT HER SMILE. If you needed a husband to provide for you then he's happy to step in. Don't be surprised when you wake up to him carrying you out the window.

"Anything that is gold is often buried beneath where everyone's minds skim over without a second thought. You won't have your gold tainted to rust by another."

GYUTARO(+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

EQUALITY

-Let's be fair. Gyutaro (and Ume/Daki) were never treated as an equal. He was always treated like a piece of garbage (and Ume a pretty doll) so he's gotten used to the fact that he's just destined for that.

-So he's surprised when his sister just starts yapping about another girl in her workplace. It's not out of the ordinary for her to talk about other girls mostly complaining about them or demanding he do something about it. But he's surprised that she's not complaining but gushing about how she made a friend....What?

-Gyutaro.wav is confused af

-She proceeds to proudly gush to her brother about how this girl 'actually knows her place' and 'knows how beautiful Daki is without even needing to know her.'

-Gyutaro.exe is VERY confused af

-She notices his blank stare and scoffs in annoyance. "She's visually impaired you dolt! Honestly it wouldn't be much of a difference if she was actually blind." Oh. Well now he's less confused. Turns out you're new to the house Daki is currently working in and she had originally planned on eating you outta jealousy, however changed her mind when you complimented her voice.

-Daki.wav is now confused. She was used to being complimented on everything from her beauty to her hair to her walking even but her voice? It was then she learnt you weren't blind but you might as well be with how bad your vision actually was seeing everything in colorful blurs. This confuses her. Confused her enough to spare you that night and instead you both just sorta awkwardly talked casually. You politely asked her what it was like to be a famous oiran and if she had any tips for make up as you couldn't see well enough to tell if yours was good.

-You had spoken to her without fear, or condensending, or even any flat out adoration. It was just as if she was another person on the street and not a cannibalistic monster. Honestly it was ..nice. Hella confusing but actually nice for once being treated like another. She decides she will not eat you. After all it wouldn't harm anyone if you couldn't see the red flags in front of you, and you believe her anyways when she said she's beautiful.

-She decides you are her default friend and you now listen to all her problems and tantrums whenever she wants. You gently listen awkwardly sometimes with a frown after you hear she had punished another worker. However there's very little people here nice to you and her reputation alone has kept troublemakers away from you so you decide her friendship is worth more than the cons of not having it.

-She's very territorial over her one friendship. Almost toxically so. If you want something you had BETTER get it within the day or there's hell to pay! If there's a customer you don't particularly like he had BETTER find another girl. No is not an option. Even the house master is scared of her so all complies.

-Gyutaro has legit no idea of what to think of this but his logic is whatever his precious baby sister wants she gets so if you make her happy being her friend then he'll leave you alone and leave her too it. He hasn't met you yet tho. Most of the time he's either out hunting or asleep dormant in Daki's body. Sometimes he heard you two talking but tuned it out as it was mostly boring or his sister complaining to you again. You two completely meet by accident.

-One day he came back from hunting, the two had to split as it'd look suspicious if she suddenly disappeared, so as usual he went to go clean up the mess. The two were just talking when the door suddenly opens and they both freeze as you stand there smiling. Turns out you had just come to say good night to Daki and didn't even see the demon in front of you. However you are barely able to make out a second blurry figure in the darkness. It prompts you to apologize for interrupting her and her customer to which both relax from their tense posture remembering you couldn't actually tell there was a six foot something demon in front of you.

-Daki is prompted to scoff and explain that it wasn't a customer but her brother visiting. In turn Gyutaro is stunned as you genuinely smile his way and greet him like he was another friend. It quickly becomes awkward as he just stares. His brain can't compute a girl(a pretty girl at that) was smiling and talking to him normally. He answers in grunts and quickly leaves the awkward scene.

-Is later shocked weeks later when his sister informs him that you sometimes ask her how her brother is doing. He's not used to having anyone think of him so nicely even as a second thought. The way he reacts gives Daki the idea of making her brother come out to again meet you. (She forces him out and doesn't let him merge until he meets you again.) He's shocked at how you still genuinely are kind to him offering him tea and asking if he'd like to hear you play the shamisen.

-Man becomes fastly smitten by you. With so much touch starvation and affection denial he has it was inevitable. You suspect he might like you by the stutters of his floundering voice but out of respect to your friend you remain casual and never bring it up to either of them when they visit you.

-You've got two demons utterly obsessed with you for both two different reasons. Daki is unwilling to lose her only friend. In her mind NO ONE is allowed to be friends with you! She's the best! So she's your best and only friend! She's very possessive over things she sees as hers and you're no exception. She even was jealous of Gyutaro's affections for you at first but quickly realized it would be easier to share her big brother with you. They share practically everything else anyways. She still gets annoyed when he takes your attention for too long tho. You were her friend first!

-Gyutaro is obsessed with the way you treat him. The way you don't back away from him when he gets close. The way you smile at him. The way you don't treat him like the scum of the earth. He's a very possessive man, even more than his sister. Any visiting customers you have are never seen again. Any present or past he finds out about are quickly taken as his dinner for daring to touch what's his.

-If he doesn't get them then Daki will. She eliminates any threat within the house. Any servant who stares at you with disdain or someone who gets too friendly is swiftly delt with.

-You're hella confused when the house master says he is cursed with many runaway workers.

-Both absolutely FREAK when they return to the house and You're not there anymore. Daki realizes this first when she goes to see you and finds you GONE! All of your belongings are gone and your room is empty. Practically tears the house apart looking for you and calling your name. Her panic wakes up her brother concerned she's in danger but also freaks out when she informs him you're GONE! She goes to the house master after not finding you anywhere else and DEMANDS they tell her where you are with murder in her eyes.

-Turns out a man had bought your marriage contract after watching a show of yours playing the shamisen and singing. You were relieved to be leaving and had left with him after waiting for an hour to say goodbye but your friend never showed up.

-Both are HORRIFIED and ENRAGED!

-Daki ends the house master in a rage as her brother appears. It's not too hard to find you being lead by your soon-to-be husband leading you towards the train station. Had they been ten minutes late then you would've been completely out of the E-District.

-Instead you're quickly absorbed into Daki's belt as her brother violently rips the man apart in a blind rage. You aren't going to leave your best friend behind and he wasn't going to let another man have your hand.

"I'm your friend! Don't you get that?!"

"I'll cut down anyone who tries to hurt my precious sister or take you from me. You're mine."

KAIGAKU:

GREED

-This man and Kokushibo are similar. Both have inferiority issues against younger brothers(Ik technically Zenitsu n him aren't brothers but bare with me) being better than them in swordsmanship one way or another. With Yoriichi and Kokushibo it was more complicated. Between Kaigaku and Zenitsu it was that ONE Thunder Breathing technique he never conquered.

-His inferiority and greed has caused him to make so many bad decisions (if you've read the manga or read his wiki then you know what I mean). He's not one to want to be out done even if he has to resort to underhanded tactics.

-You both met when he was still human and training under Master Jigoro. You were a simple healer often just helping patch him and Zenitsu up after training. He's annoyed and often doesn't give you a second thought that is until Zenitsu starts running his mouth obviously. He asks you to marry him ten minutes after you both just met.

-Kaigaku has known you for a few years longer than Zenitsu because he's older and came to train here before Zenitsu but you both have never been close before. He's short with you when you talk otherwise he's usually quiet. You talk to him anyways even if he never answers back. You're used to it.

-He hates how you just patiently laugh off any and all attempts Zenitsu makes to you. Why are you tolerating that idiot?!(Nevermind you also tolerate him and his stupid attitude.) He gets jealous of your interactions and how Zenitsu is just finding over you before he meets Nezuko. He barely sees you after his final selection and becoming a slayer but his furious mind boils over at the thought of you spending more time ALONE with Zenitsu before he too goes to his Final selection.

-With both Zenitsu and Kaigaku gone, and Jigoro insisting he can take care of himself, you're reassigned to a different residence where multiple slayers pass through. Ironically it's where Kaigaku is. All good and bad feelings punch him at once seeing your smiling face again as you stitch up his most recent wound.

-He likes you so much and how you treat him, but he's internally enraged when you share that kindness with anyone outside of him. Hearing you speaking to him about Zenitsu and your other patients only enrages that boiling point. However it only reaches that point when you inform the ever silent man about your own slayer fiance you met through your patients.

-You're sad when one day Kaigaku stops showing up for a long while. News of his betrayal and Jigoro's death really hadn't reached a lot of people with all the Haishira and slayers training for the final fight in the Infinity Castle. Your slayer fiance included.

-You do however receive news of your fiance's mysterious gruesome death at the hands of a demon. You're more heartbroken when you also hear of Jigoro's death. Devastated and crying your heart out over your loss. However those sobs turn to screams when you're face to face with blackened eyes of death as a sinister smile.

"What are you crying for? It's his own fault."

NAKIME:

SHARED INTEREST

-(Ok. Bare with me. Ive never written for her before and even researching her backstory this is probably not going to be very long and ooc. Take as platonic or romantic.) Let me start by saying that she does not get out much. Like at all. So you two really don't meet face to face.

-She discovers you by accident when she opened a door in a busy street and happened to see you sitting on the side of the road also playing a biwa for money.

-She hasn't seen another fellow biwa player for a while and decided to keep the doorway open for a while to listen.

-You are not very good with the biwa. Your playing isn't bad it's just not the best. Nakime knows this but considering she's never met another person or heard another instrument for a long time she can't help but get interested. Learns quickly that you are a lot better playing the shamisen than the biwa and always opens a small window or doorway on nights she knows you're gonna be sitting on your corner playing.

-She starts to think about teaching you how to play the biwa and doing a duet as you play your shamisen next to her biwa. Starts to really like the idea of permanently having your company in the castle.

-She doesn't really abduct you until after a show a drunk patron steals your instrument and smashes it on the ground laughing at your crying face.

-A loud strum of a biwa is heard as both you AND the drunk man is teleported. You're shocked to suddenly find yourself on a platform with a woman sitting right across from you. The drunk man was also teleported. She teleported him to where she knew a gang of newly turned hungry demons were.

"Apologies for the sudden introductions however it seems you need a change of residence."

GYOKKO:

CREATIVITY

-(I don't like him too much but ik there's a lot of people who do and can't find content for him same as those who like Nakime so I'll include him too for all you Gyokko fans.) Mans is a baby. Very sensitive to his projects being insulted even if they deserve to be called that, most either are 'too dumb to notice his great skills' or always insult him. When in reality his art is so gruesome that people can't help but he horrified by it or insult him. The only one who seems to get him is Douma which is why he gifted him the pot but they aren't really friends.

-He meets you by complete accident. He was out too late and ended up deciding to hide in a pottery worker's shop. He likes to sneak around and spy on other artists anyways. His pot was sun proof and all he had to do was duck inside and wait until night again. However he wasn't counting on being bought.

-You had come in looking for a new vase to decorate your table after your old one accidentally broke. You happened to spot Gyokko's and completely fell in love with how pretty it was! The purest white you've ever seen with beautifully perfectly painted flowers and leafy vines. The pottery worker doesn't even remember making this piece but a paying customer was a paying customer so he sold you Gyokko's vase.

-Gyokko is absolutely offended by the pottery worker claiming his vase as his own and plans to end him later...But he also is very intrigued by the bold compliments you gave so he decides not to end you yet.

-When night comes he sneaks out to find quite a sight. Turns out you are also an artist sorta. You make custom jewelry and clothing for people, and baskets on the side. He's intrigued and extends his body around to look closely at all of the fabrics laid about, and written patterns, and little pieces of jewels ready to be put together for a simple but pretty piece to wear.

-He ends up going from the back of your shop to the front finding a lot of finished pieces of yours displayed and ready for sale. He's very intrigued by the kimonos. All of the patterns are individually sewn on. Cherry blossoms, storks, flowers- All are sewn on thread after thread by hand. It's like a canvas but made of fabric with thread as the paint. He's seen a LOT of kimonos but the attention to detail and precision to the likeness of the real thing was truly remarkable. For a woman.

-He decides since you really hadn't been a nuisance and complimented his work then he'll not end you for taking his pot. Instead of taking his pot with him, he leaves it and teleports to a different pot that way he can still sneak into your home without a problem.

-This goes on for two years. He'll pop in every so while when you sleep and look around for an hour or two before leaving. There was always different dresses displayed with different beautiful scenes sewed into them or he'd see one you were working on on your workshop bench. The needle paused in sewing the stripes of a tiger or the veins of a leaf.

-One day he comes back but hides in the pot because you're working late and tending to a customer who needed a dress for a ceremony. As you both talk the customer compliments 'your pot' and asks why you never put flowers in it. You answer- "I don't want to damage it by filling it with water or having rose thorns scratch it's inside. Besides it's beautiful enough by itself."

-As if this man didn't have enough of a big ego- This happens around the start of the second year and he ends up fond of this fellow artist. He gets the idea of gifting you another case to gage your reaction. This time you find a deep blue pot with waves painted onto it. You're unsure of where it came from but you might up moving it by the first vase mumbling to yourself about how pretty it was! Man's ego skyrockets.

-You are confused when you thank your friends for the pretty gifts only to be told they didn't make any of the ones you have. You get more confused when you start finding pots left on your doorstep two or three times a month. You never see who leaves them but you're so taken by how each one is so pretty that you never complain. Just assuming it was a secret admirer. Gyokko's ego boosts higher when he sees you had gotten two big shelves and placed them up to be displayed. He loves seeing you light up when you look at them excited for when the next one arrives.

-You're happiness seems to be improving your work too as Gyokko ends up find you making full on landscapes on your dresses. He notices you've suddenly become happier and giddier lately and blushing even but he doesn't think it's anything other than your adoration for his craft.

-Confused when one day he finds no new dresses being made except for an absolutely beautiful shiromuku in the process of being made. He assumes you've been paid to make a bride her ceremonial dress. He has absolutely no idea of the real reason behind this behavior until he comes back earlier one night and is shocked to find YOU wearing the dress to try it out as another friend of yours does your makeup testing out what colors would look best with you in the dress.

-Seeing you in your own homemade bridal piece and your face dolled up is like he's looking upon living artwork. He's in awe as you both giddily talk about your wedding-..Wait. Wot? You're telling your friend all about how the pottery maker you had originally bought your first vase from had fallen for you and came forward to be your secret admirer leaving all of the vases as gifts.

W H A T?!

-Gyokko is ENRAGED!! How dare that lowlife claim his precious skills as his own!? More so how dare he use it to trick this beloved artist into letting him marry you?! He was claiming all his hard work!! He's becomes more enraged when you mentioned that your fiance wanted you to retire from your craft and be a stay at home wife after you marry. A mantra of "Oh over his dead body" is repeated over in his head as he temporarily disappears to take care of a problem.

-Soon after your friend leaves you're smiling at yourself in a mirror only to freeze in horror and shriek out as something monstrous comes clawing out of the first ever face you've ever gotten. People are horrified and shocked when they find your fiance dead and you no where to be found.

"Art is a beauty in of itself. However there are few people who can truly appreciate you as such."

Hoo boy that was a lot. I'm gonna do a part 2 with Hantengu since that guy needs to be tackled along with clones on his own post and a part 3 with the lower moons. Hope you all enjoyed this.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

✵ Part 2 of what is now a sweet, soft Tim moments miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He has a dream about you and realizes that he's in a bad spot.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, Tim and r making things hard on themselves

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: Many thanks to the kind words of @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @writings-of-a-demigod and @newobsessionweekly on the first part! Thanks for the inspiration and love! Here's more soft Tim realizing how he feels.🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Well, what do you think?”

Tim watches you spin in the new outfit before you place your hands on your hips and look at him. He’s been waiting outside the dressing room for too long, but he can’t find it in himself to ask you to leave. 

“It’s beautiful. So were the last five,” Tim tells you. 

“That’s not helpful,” you lament. “I have to pick the best one!”

“It’s a charity dinner, not your wedding. Just pick what you like, what you feel good in, and let’s go. We do have a shift to finish.”

“We have fifteen more minutes of our lunch break,” you point out. “Let me try on one more.”

Tim stands and counters, “Only if I get to pick it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m in room 2.”

Tim nods and turns like he’s on a life-dependent mission. He navigates through the racks of clothing as if a suspect is hiding in them. When he finds something he thinks you’ll like and knows you’ll look great wearing, he picks it up and returns to the dressing room. 

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he says as he passes the hanger over the door. 

“And you always make things so easy,” you argue playfully. “Oh, this is nice.”

Tim returns to the plush chair in the waiting area and leans back. His belt digs into his side, but he doesn’t bother to move. He’d prefer to leave than to find a new position. When you emerge in Tim's suggested outfit, you smile at him, and Tim stands quickly. 

“That’s the one,” he murmurs. 

“I think so too. You have better taste than I anticipated, Bradford.”

You return to the dressing room to change into your uniform again, and Tim feels like he has been kicked in the chest. Everything about this has been domestic, slow, just you and Tim, but then you called him Bradford. And, when he stands beside you in the checkout lane, both dressed in patrol blues, Tim is cruelly reminded that you are his rookie, partners at most, and this was just a convenient trip for you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming with me, for putting up with me, being so nice. Everything.”

“Of course,” Tim answers. 

“I, uh, I was wondering if you had an outfit for the dinner?”

“I’ve got a suit somewhere in my closet.”

You nod and look down at the outfit draped over your arm. 

“I think you need one more thing,” Tim adds. 

“What? I’ve got the outfit, shoes, a-“

“A date,” Tim interrupts. “Do you… would you want to go with me? As more than two cops from the same station?”

You look at him wordlessly and shift on your feet. Tim immediately begins to regret asking and tries to find a way to make a joke or a reason to call you boot and put everything back in perspective. 

“I’m sorry,” he decides on. 

“No, I want to say yes, I just assumed you were kidding.”

“Why?” Tim questions, reaching toward you. 

“You were nice to me the day that I got my hand sliced open, but you told me then that-“

Tim wakes when his arm jerks. He expects to feel you beside him, but as he sits in his bed, in his house, in his lonely existence, he realizes it was all a dream. He was nice to you that day, but he wonders if there’s something he could do now to show you it wasn't a one-off kindness. You’re his rookie, but Tim needs more. 

“Oh,” he murmurs as everything sinks in. He dreamt about you because you affect him and his emotions more than you’ll ever know. That date, the touch he misses without ever feeling, everything about the dream was the unconscious pursuit of Tim’s true desires. 

“This is bad, Kojo,” Tim mumbles. “Very bad.”

The following morning, Tim can’t make eye contact with you. He hasn’t been nervous around a woman since he and Isabel were dating. As he sidesteps you to avoid touching you, he wonders if there is any chance you want it, too. There’s too much risk, he decides; your safety and his judgement are more important than his feelings or some high school-level crush on the one girl he can’t get. 

“So,” you begin as you get in the shop. “Sergeant Grey said days with lots of events are hectic. Does that make this the bad?” you ask. 

“When are you going to stop asking me that?” Tim asks. “You’ll know when the bad is.”

“Well I thought a dozen stitches was bad, but if that was the good, I’d like a heads up from you before the bad really happens.”

“That part wasn’t the good,” Tim huffs. “The bad is… it’s the rest of it. Everything until you pass your exam and start seeing the ugly that scars the good.”

You purse your lips and nod to yourself. “You’re in a good mood today. Chipper, almost.”

“It’s not supposed to make you happy, but it’s police work.”

“I think it’s the bad for another reason,” you admit. “Because I can’t talk about anything. Questions, ideas, opinions, even just how I feel, nothing I say or do gets taken seriously now, but the second I mess up, no one will forget it. My bad days can ruin me.”

“It gets better,” Tim assures. He notices your eyes on him when you say ‘how I feel’ but doesn’t push. “But keeping a low profile as a rookie has its pros and cons.”

You nod and look out the passenger window. This is the bad, and you are already in the worst of it; you and Tim are hiding your feelings from each other and trying to keep them from affecting yourselves. The lies that you and Tim think in a vain effort to stay professional and protect your hearts only make it harder to see that the person sitting beside you sees past your uniform. Your only concern is that the ugly will scar you before you escape from the bad and invite Tim into the good beside you. No matter where you are, in the good, the bad, or the ugly of police work, Tim will be beside you. But maybe you need his hand in yours and a promise that there’s more. Because this is bad, but it could get a whole lot worse. 

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 7)

The one thing Uzi did not mind about her transformation was her ability to fly alongside N during scavenging missions. He often had to slow down (thrusters will always be faster than manual flying), but it didn't seem to bother him in the least, especially when she was sharing her favorite songs with him over short-range.

And no, it didn't all consist of Nightcore thank you very much. She was sharing the ones she thought he would like.

Of course, N liked all of them, so she probably could blare Nightcore at full volume and he'd like it, but she was still keeping it mostly mainstream, mostly because he seemed to like singing lyrics if he knew them, which was fun!

Because he was good at it.

He nailed nearly every note so long as he was familiar with the song, and it was gorgeous, his voice smooth as butter and just high enough to reach the minor keys without sounding off.

And yes, it did make her core flutter like it was full of a million butterflies, but that was besides the point.

“Hang on, lemme give you this one.” She sent another over to him, her wings flapping above her as they both glided comfortably.

“How many do you have?!” N asked excitedly, although it was definitely in the sense that he was eager to hear all of them and not that he wanted her to stop.

“Years worth of emotional repression leads to years worth of saved angst, what can I say?” She replied, poking a little fun at herself, she pushed ahead as he opened the audio file, scanning the ground for any parts she needed.

This one was a little angry sounding, but the guitar was nice, and there was a woman singing in the background that he wished didn't sound so sad, but it was pretty, at the very least.

“Do you want me to just give you my playlist? I've kinda just been sending you singles from it this whole time.” She fell back in line with him, wings beating above her, wow, he never realized how strong they looked before.

“Yes!” He beamed, being ecstatic to listen to more, it was leagues better than anything he'd ever heard play at the manor, plus he felt as if he was learning quite a bit about her just through her saved songs.

He noted the complete lack of love songs, there were plenty of breakup songs, but it didn't seem that Uzi had either never felt that way about anyone or she may have just not liked the sappiness of them. He wasn't sure, he was kinda hoping for the latter, she deserved someone to make her happy, surely?

“Here. But we can't spend all night doing this, it not really what we're here for…” She sent him a massive folder that was going to take a bit to install, in the meantime. They both flew upwards, trying to spot things from higher up.

“No worries, what are we looking for?” He asked, just replaying the same songs he'd already listened to on repeat, just at a lower volume.

“A hardware store preferably, that explosion melted all my railguns internals… stupid J… pain in my ass even in death.” She added, sounding bitter. He didn't argue.

“Hmm, I think I saw one last night. I can send you the map data?” He offered, not noticing how closely they were flying, he could feel each beat of her wings. The urge to wrap his tail around her hit him suddenly. She wasn't in danger. What was this about?

“Sweet! Yes!” She gave him a thumbs up, and so he sent the map data to her, and she went silent looking it over intently.

And here he was admiring how she could intently focus of his map data while also flying near perfectly again, if he ever needed to revist a location he had to stop flying lest he hit something. Not her though, her mind was so lightening fast. Not just in this, but in everything.

Man his best freind was so cool. And pretty.

She… was pretty. But that was random.

“Yeah, you did pass one, this way!” She did pause in the air for a moment, but only to turn to him and make sure he was following, he nodded, letting her lead him.

Her tail swirled behind her as she kept herself aloft, it was graceful in it's own way, since she had to think more about consciously flying then he did, and so she ended up doing more spins and tricks in the air just by flying normally. It was almost like watching a dance, albeit a bat-like one.

“We're here.” He heard her shout before diving, and he followed without question, landing beside her with a metallic thud in contrast with her graceful perfect landing.

Okay, what the heck was going on with him today?

“Anything specific?” He asked, dusting the snow off himself before it melted and refroze to his chassis. Ignoring the random intrusive thoughts that seemed to be increasing in frequency and intensity.

“Small screws, wiring, oh! And capacitors! Lots and lots of capacitors.” He knew at least what two of those things were at what they looked like, so he nodded and followed her into the blasted out store after beating the snow out of his cap.

Her tail whipped around into a flashlight, pointing it at the rotten shelves and the icesicles hanging above them, a skeleton was at the counter, still in uniform, and still in the position of looking bored.

“Split up? I'll look for the capacitors, you get the screws and wiring?” She turned to him, with the absence of others she always seemed to smile, he gave her a thumbs up and beamed her one right back, before turning and wandering to the nearest shelf, leaving them both alone with their thoughts.

Uzi was already searching deep in the electronic section, trying to find capacitors that weren't completely broken or frozen, with a task at hand her mind was blessedly empty for once, enough that she was humming absent-mindedly whatever song had gotten trapped in her head.

She didn't sing, she didn't like her voice and thought it was too deep for most songs, but humming was fine, if it wasn't done in front of other people. Robo-God forbid someone hear her not being aggro for ten seconds. But here she was alone, and N was on the other side of the store, he couldn't hear her.

And even if he could, it was N. He wouldn't ever make fun of her for anything.

She smiled. At this point trying to deny her feelings was pointless, he made her feel so special, so wonderful. And he was so happy to spend any time with her, whether it be listening to her music or watching a movie or agreeing to visit a baby with her. He was always down, loving every second.

It rubbed off on her, she found herself smiling more, liking her life more, liking herself more. She was beginning to feel less like a freak and more like a person, all thanks to the lovable goofball she called her best freind.

And she wanted to call him more, connect with him more, but… she couldn't be certain he felt the same way. He was always so loving but he was like that with everyone, he cared, and that's just who he was.

So nothing he did proved he liked her like that. Romanticly. Never in a million years did she ever think she would be longing for someone, or even have a crush in the first place, but here she was, admitting to herself that… she was in love. Ew

But at the same time, the way he had been looking at her in the nursery, with a small smile on his face and his eyes digitally half-lidded. He looked… almost like he wanted to kiss her.

But that had to have been her imagination, he'd asked if she felt better right before, maybe he'd just been concerned.

With a victorious gasp she found a whole box of preserved capacitors and quickly stashed them in her bag before going off and trying to find the boy in question, core full of butterflies but also very very heavy.

N had finally finished downloading Uzi's monster of a playlist and was skimming through it while picking up his second box of screws, he doubted she needed this many, but being an overachiever never got him in trouble before.

He fingered the wiring he had in his pocket, feeling satisfied that he'd completed his task and yet still felt anything but.

He was… confused.

Uzi was his friend, his best friend. And yet the more he thought about her the lighter his core got, in a way that was new to him. Well no, that was it wasn't it? It wasn't new.

It was just attached to a new person.

But… he didn't have a crush on Uzi did he? He could form sentences just fine around her, he wasn't nervous or artificially sweaty. He just wanted to be close, to protect her. To be there when she needed him. That wasn't romantic. It was protective! Like all friends should be!

And yet he still felt unsatisfied, like he was missing something.

“Hey! Did you find what we needed?” He heard her before he saw her, bounding up to him with a crooked smirk, her tail twitching behind her and her wings folded against her back. She was cute…

He shook off his thoughts again.

“Yeah! Here!” He he presented the screws and the wire to her with a smile, his tail twitching as her hand grazed his as she took them, no that wasn't a spark you're imagining things.

“Thanks!” You ready to head back? It's going to be morning soon.” She asked, punching his shoulder playfully, a small laugh left his mouth.

“Yeah! And we can listen to music together on the way back!”

“Sure buddy.”

And with that they took off, commenting on songs and cracking jokes about the stupid ones, flying high to get home faster. With each minute he felt himself relax, whatever confusing mess his thoughts were causing right now didn't matter, they were laughing, and she was smiling. He would figure it out later.

“Is… is this song about a potato?” He asked slowly, causing her to snort before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“Y-yeah? I thought it was funny, and I rigged the teachers lounge to play it on repeat once.”

N didn't want to ask why, but he felt that it was a very Uzi thing to do.

“Hey, I might need to crash at your place tonight. Charge is low and I don't wanna pass out on the way home.” As she said that, a little low battery symbol appeared at the top right corner of her visor, showing she wasn't lying.

“Sleepover!” He shouted, making her smile again, he really liked her smile…

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes, but her words lacked any sort of bite. There was a brief comfortable silence before;

“Oh… this one's kinda sad.” His face fell at little as he listened. An orchestral swell being out of place in the rest of the playlist.

I am tired of this dream….

Will it ever end for me?

“Sorry, I don't have a lot of happy ones that aren't also sarcastic…” She admitted sheepishly, she probably should find happier songs now that she was thinking about it. She felt happier now, what was the harm? So long that it was only her and N that would ever hear them.

I don't have the will to know…

Can you help me see?

“Oh! Duet!” He hummed happily, that fact alone seemingly making him feel better about it.

Let my body keep you warm…

Let my essence be your breeze.

Oh. This was a love song, and a rather longing one. He looked over Uzi's playlist, this one was added only recently. About three months ago, huh that was around when prom happened.

Can you hear me calling?

Please look out for meeee…

“N! Look!” Uzi shouted and he looked up, the gas giant was being eclipsed by Copper-9s barren moon, causing the entire night sky to be lit up in a burnt umber red. But he'd be lying if he said that was what caught his attention.

Can you set me free?

Will you take my soul away?

Uzi was silhouetted in the light perfectly, sending warm oranges and reds bouncing off her features like she was gazing at a roaring fire, she was hung in the air, snowflakes falling slowly around her, the light turning them to embers dancing in the air. She was smiling, her hands reaching out to touch one of the dancing flames.

Casting me in cold

Bury me in bones

Rest eternallyyyyyy…

He felt all the moisture in his mouth evaporate on the spot, and any further thought through his processors die. If flying wasn't an automatic process, he would have fallen from the sky in shock.

She looked beautiful.

Will you take me home?

Can we see the moon again?

Dancing in the dark

Till we fall apart

I can't end this dream...

[lxtstrip]

Last to Fade | M. Sturniolo

TW: alcohol mention and 13RW show/character mention just for a moment and a SLIGHT spoiler of S1xE1 if we still even need a spoiler alert, but no SPECIFIC topics from the show.

AN: all opinions expressed about the show are mine, i do not speak for anyone else. i also knocked this out in 2 hours or so while rewatching the series.

WC: 715

Pairing: Matt x Reader

You watched Matt lift a bottle of Stella to his lips. He repeatedly begged you for Shock Top, but you insisted this was better. Strangely, he didn’t complain about the flavor profile tonight, because tonight was your night with him. He didn’t have to worry about posting anything on social media on nights like this and it relieved him more than anyone could ever begin to fathom.

As Matt set the bottle back on the coaster beside him, you couldn’t help but notice his hand and arm. You always had a thing for his tattoos, same as every other girl in his comments and DMs. However, you got to see the way they moved. You got to take in what they looked like half inside of messy bed sheets. You were lucky enough to experience the mundane and intimate alike.

In the most cliche fashion you were ripped out of your thoughts as Matt abruptly lifted his elbow to his face so he could address the tickle in his throat. Even his coughing could never bother you, no matter how loud it was. You were without a doubt that if and when you were with him long term it would infuriate you, but for now you found it to be something you could put up with.

“I don’t get it…” Matt finally uttered.

“What do you mean?” you asked sitting up to look him in the face.

“That damned smile!” he mocked the brunette on the television.

“We watched this series twice and you still don’t get why she fell for Justin?” you asked.

“The first time we watched it, I wasn’t paying attention to the romance! That’s chick shit.” he said, throwing up his hands in defense.

To be fair he was right, at the time it premiered it was marketed to bring attention to mental health and provoke thought in younger individuals. At the same time when you both watched it for the first time there were multiple sources tearing it apart and even more making fun of it so you two decided to give it a go deciding for yourselves what the final verdict would be. You both landed it deserved every generalized concept it was given.

“I’m just saying she would have been happier with Clay if she gave him a chance from the start of the show.” Matt commented.

“All this from the guy who said he wasn’t watching this for the romance.” you giggled, laying your head back down in his lap.

The credits started flickering across the screen and Matt couldn’t grab the remote fast enough. He didn’t even let the automated timer go off before he was jumping to watch the next episode.

You and Matt called it a night after episode two. There was a bit of debate between why a show would remain so cryptic for so long. Answers could have been given while still drawing people in, but you both decided it was lazy.

It was surprising Matt could draw such astute conclusions. He wasn’t widely known for being well read, just one of 3 brothers with a somewhat influencing career. Truth be told, when Matt wasn’t recording with his brothers or gaming, he was in the books pretty heavily. No genre was off limits for him after he met you. You changed him in the most positive ways; his words, not yours.

You were his favorite everything. He looked at you the same way you looked at him. He was enamored with you. You were his rock after a hard day, you were his passenger princess on dates, and you were his last girlfriend he ever wanted. He would never admit his feelings in that capacity, not now anyway.

Matt pulled the covers over the two of you and gave you a kiss on the forehead before settling in and wrapping his arms around you. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you between chaste kisses and loving glances. You never knew how watching something on television could wipe from your minds so quickly and fall into your nightly routine. You liked it, there was a pleasant, resounding ambience that you two were made for each other.

To paraphrase the great Adam Young - the spaces between Matt’s fingers where right where yours fit perfectly.

[sh4wty18]

song about me.

VERY loosely inspired by 'song about me' by tv girl.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: over a month after your breakup, johnnie writes a song about you. upon listening to it, you decide to confront him.

cw: angst, fluff, language

word count: 1.9k + edited

---

Your best friend eagerly asks, “Have you heard it?” over the phone, to which you reply, “have I heard what, exactly?”

“Johnnie’s new song… it’s totally about you!” she clarifies.

You scoff, “There’s no way it’s about me, girl.”

You had broken up with Johnnie over a month ago. After nearly a year and a half of dating, you’d finally grown tired of his constant workload. It wasn’t his being busy that bothered you, it was the excuses he used. Every time you’d ask to hang out, he’d surely have some type of excuse as to why he couldn’t. Your entire relationship hadn’t been like this, either, which made his sudden change in behavior even more confusing and frustrating. The excuses and avoidance had only begun in the final three months of your relationship. You had tried to communicate with him, you’d asked him countless times what was wrong, if you’d done something to upset him, or how you could help him if he was struggling. He never opened up. He’d offer you one of his recycled excuses each time, “Nothing’s wrong babe, I just need to be alone tonight.” or “Not tonight, I’m too tired.” or “I’ve been busy all day, I can’t handle company right now.” Same excuse, different wording. 

After three months of this constant battle, and an inability to get through to him, you finally decided to break things off. At least you couldn’t say you didn’t try. You had tried more than anything to make it work with Johnnie. When you’d first gotten together, you were sure he was the one. Evidently, things changed, although you hadn’t wanted them to. 

“No girl, it’s definitely about you. Like… he’s down bad. You need to listen to it right now.” your best friend continues, “don’t you still miss him?”

“Ha! No. But I’ll listen to it and let you know what I think,” you lie through your teeth. Of course you still missed him. You loved him more than anyone, and breaking up with him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it was necessary, and it was the right thing to do. The relationship was becoming unhealthy– for both of you. You loved Johnnie, and still do, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t need to grow as a person. You figured you needed to grow too. 

You had told him the day you broke up with him that you’d always appreciate your time together, and that if the two of you were meant to be, you trusted the universe to bring you back together. He had only nodded, as silent tears dampened his cheeks. That was the last thing you’d said to him. You left him there, alone in his bedroom after that. It was your biggest regret.

He hadn’t reached out since then, so you assumed he’d moved on, and you were trying to do the same. It wasn’t working. Nothing did. You missed him. You missed him like the sun misses the moon, like how the sea longs for the sand, you missed him day and night. You missed him at work, at the bar with your friends, you missed him in your dreams. It was an all encompassing heartbreak. You hoped you hid it well. 

“You totally miss him…” your best friend said knowingly. “It’s okay, I get it. You thought he was the love of your life, it sucks! And it’s only been a month! No one, like, expects you to be fine.” 

You exhale, “Thanks…” not knowing what else to say, “I’ll talk to you later.” 

After hanging up, you click on the Spotify icon and type Johnnie’s name into the search bar. 

LATEST RELEASE:

Losing You ⏺ Single

You press play, and are instantly met with a soft melody, most likely played on his acoustic guitar, with some added background instrumentals. Upon listening to the lyrics, you can tell the song is definitely about you.

And I understand why you left, it was for the best.

But did you even care? Or was I just too much to bare?

I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, will we ever heal the rift?

Now I’m stitching up my wounds, but what I really need is you.

Hot tears sting your eyes. The song was beautiful, but hurt you. Suddenly you realize that you can’t keep pretending to be fine anymore. Maybe, you decided, it was time to go talk to him.

—

You knock on Jake, Johnnie, and Carrington’s door, half expecting one of the other two to answer, but you noticed upon arrival that Jake’s car was absent from the driveway. At least you could have some privacy during your confrontation, you supposed. 

To your surprise, Johnnie answered on the second knock. 

He jolts back a couple inches, shock washing over his face, “Hi…” 

“Hi. Can I come in?” You ask.

He hesitates, taking all of you in, eyes wandering up and down your body. He hasn’t seen you in over a month, and he wanted to refresh his memory of every curve, every freckle, every loose strand of hair. He had missed your body, but more than anything, he missed you. All of you. “Yeah, sure, of course,” he responds. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

You step inside, taking him in as well. His tattoos, some of which you didn’t recognize, his hair swept in front of his face, his makeup, everything. He looked good, you’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. You also took in the house that you knew so well. Being inside it again was like visiting your own grave. 

“Can we go upstairs?” You ask.

“Sure…” Johnnie responds, furrowing his eyebrows nervously. You hated seeing him like this, nervous and unsure of himself. You wanted to make him feel good again, you hoped it wasn’t too late, (even though you were kind of mad at him too).

You both sit awkwardly on the edge of his bed after he closes and locks his door to offer you both some privacy. 

“So… what’s up?” He asks.

“What do you think is up, Johnnie?” You ask, trying to maintain your composure. “You wrote a song about me, without asking. You aired our dirty laundry out for EVERYONE to hear. You made it seem like I left you stranded?! What the fuck?” 

“You DID leave me stranded! It just wasn’t your fault! I was in a super dark place during the last bit of our relationship. Those last three months were hell. I was going through it, like super depressed and shit. But instead of being a grown ass adult and confiding in you like a normal boyfriend would, I pushed you away. Our breakup was all my fault. You left me stranded because I gave you no choice.” 

“I’m so sorry that you were going through that alone, Johnnie. But it wasn’t my responsibility to save you. And believe me, I tried.” 

“I never said it was.” Johnnie says with a hurt look on his face. 

“Yeah, but you pushed me away so much, you made me feel like you didn’t love me anymore. And it’s so hard watching the person you love most suffer and knowing there’s nothing you can do to save them. Knowing that no matter what I did, you’d refuse me. ME. The one person you’re supposed to trust more than anyone. It was fucking exhausting Johnnie. Emotionally and physically. I couldn’t fucking eat, I couldn’t sleep, all I did was worry about you. And deep down I knew you needed to do it alone. Even though it hurt me more than anything to leave you.” 

“I'm so sorry I put you through that. I know I was shit. I am shit. But I’m trying, y/n. I’m really fucking trying. I’m seeing a therapist again, trying to get out more. I wrote that song because it was cathartic. I’m sorry I crossed a line.” 

“Thank you, Johnnie, but you’re not shit. You’re actually one of the best people I’ve ever met. That’s why it hurts so badly to see you like that. You deserve better, you deserve happiness and love and everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re worth it. And the song was really pretty by the way… I love it. Yeah, I was pissed you wrote it without my permission but I think it was just ‘cause I knew everything you said in it was true. It’s beautiful,” You respond, standing up and pulling him up by his hand. You wrap your arms around his waist in the biggest, tightest hug you’ve ever given him. You missed the way his body molded into yours. He held your body against his, neither of you wanting to let go. 

Johnnie is the first to break away, but only to gaze down at you lovingly. 

“What is it?” You ask, as it’s evident he has something he wants to say. “You know you can still tell me anything, right?”

“It’s just… I didn’t just write the song for catharsis. I wrote it because I couldn’t wait for the universe anymore,” he says, avoiding eye contact with you.

“What?” You ask, slightly caught off guard. Of course, you knew exactly what he was referring to, but you wanted to hear him say it. 

“The day you broke up with me, the last thing you said to me was that if we were meant to be you trusted the universe to bring us back together. I don’t need the universe to tell me you’re the love of my life, I already know it. Y/n, I would die for you. I would lose everything for you. You’re the one. I took you for granted before and I never, ever wanna put you through that again. You deserve the world, and I fucked everything up. I totally understand if you walk out that door and never look back but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you that you’re the person I think about every night as I’m falling to sleep and every morning when I wake up. It’s always gonna be you for me.” He stops, gazing into your eyes. Your expression is unreadable, mostly because you’re too stunned to say anything back. “Say something please, or I’m gonna-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his on your tiptoes. He pulls you in tighter by your waist, while your hands fly up to tangle in his hair. He rotates your bodies and pushes you back onto the bed, before straddling you, your kiss getting messier by the second. 

Johnnie breaks away, tears staining his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You caress his cheek with your palm, drying his tears, “It’s okay, baby.” 

He gently presses his lips to your forehead, cheeks, jaw, neck, hands, anywhere he can reach, breathing out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” between each kiss. 

You pull his head up to gaze up at him, and he still looks indescribably pained. “Hey,” you pull his head to yours to kiss his forehead, “I never stopped loving you, and I never will. You mean everything to me. Whatever comes next, promise me you’ll always confide in me. Even when you’re scared. Even when you feel like shit. Even when it’s hard. We can’t promise to never hurt each other again, because that’s bound to happen. But can we promise to always communicate with each other?”

“Of course, baby. God, you’re so fucking good to me.” He lays down next to you and holds your neck with one hand, tilting your head towards his. Your noses brush together and you both exhale a sigh of relief. You’d never leave each other again.

---

as always i hope you enjoyed and likes & reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ staying the night at your ex-husband's house was a mistake. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. you and gojo have a daughter. oral (m. and f. recieving), satoru calls you a slut + whore, degradation mixed with praise, mocking, dacryphilia.

author's note: edit—crying bcs an irl read this and alluded to it in one of our convos pls actually kill me /hj

"hey, sweetheart," the man holding your daughter's hand says casually, as if he doesn't know how much you hate the pet name. "you took your sweet time."

a familiar scowl makes its way onto your face and you cross your arms. "satoru, will you ever stop calling me that?" you ask exasperatedly, pressing two of your fingers into your temples.

six years.

you've known satoru for six years, and you were his wife for four of them. now, after a long, painful road, you two were finally divorcées.

it's been a year since you and satoru ended things, and sure, it was hard for all of you, but life moved on. your daughter, to her delight, still gets to see her father on weekends. and unfortunately, you usually tagged along.

"mommy, can we stay for the night?" your four year old asks, looking up at you with big, shiny eyes. "please?"

you hesitate — if it were up to you, you wouldn't stay in this house, the one you once lived in any longer. "sorry, pumpkin. i think we should go. wouldn't wanna intrude on daddy's space any longer."

you hate the look on satoru's face when you refer to him in the same way your daughter does. fucking pervert.

"you two can stay as long as you want," satoru interjects smoothly. he smiles lazily, kneeling down to your daughter's height and ruffling her hair. "it's kinda late, isn't it? i'd hate for you to have to drive all the way back in the dark."

"yeah, mummy!" your daughter says, nodding along to satoru's words. "i'm tired."

you wince and ignore the smug grin on satoru's face as he stands back up with a soft grunt. "we should head home, kiddo. i bet your dad has work to do, and we have our own house."

satoru frowns slightly at the last statement, but he doesn't even consider shooting back — not in front of his daughter. "sweetheart," he says to you, voice coated in that sickeningly sweet tone that you hated, "it's late. and i don't have any work."

when satoru sees the way you scowl at him, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "you have any other reasons why you wanna leave?"

none that you need to know.

both your ex-husband and your daughter, who takes after her dad more, take your silence as grudging agreement. 

"hey, kid, d'you want to go to bed?" satoru fondly asks your daughter, ruffling her hair again. when she nods, sleepiness evident in her eyes, satoru scoops her up and carries her off to her room without looking back.

when they turn the corner into your daughter's room, you sigh and plop down on satoru's couch. your ex-husband was an infuriatingly good father, and it pissed you off. 

a couple minutes later, satoru strolls out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. 

"so, babe, you dating anyone?" satoru says conversationally as he plops down on the couch next to you. he's close enough to make you tense, but stays just out of your personal space.

"what's it to you if i am?" you mutter, ignoring the pet name. you know that if you tell him to stop, he'll just say it more, so you don't bother.

he scoffs and faces you, resting his back against the arm of the couch. "what's up your ass today?"

"fuck off, satoru."

satoru whistles and tsks at you, shaking his head. "language, sweetheart. you kiss our daughter with that mouth?" 

after a couple seconds, his expression softens and he studies your face carefully. "what's on your mind?"

and just like that, you're back to the times when the two of you were happy. back when satoru wasn't such a dipshit and actually cared about how you felt.

unfortunately, those times were over.

long over, you remind yourself as you dig your nails into the palm of your hand. "nothing you need to be concerned about," you reply. your tone is clipped, and the words come out harsher than you meant them to.

satoru doesn't seem to mind. in fact, he has a lopsided grin on his face as he scoots closer to you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"you wanna fuck it out?"

his words are so unexpected that your mouth almost drops open. thankfully, it doesn't, but a couple minutes later, your legs do.

"fuckkk," you moan, tilting your head back as satoru's tongue trails a stripe up your slit. 

"keep it down, sweetheart," satoru says without looking up. "don't wan' to wake up our daughter, do ya?"

you hum in response, physically covering your mouth with one of your hands to muffle the sounds escaping the confines of your lips.

in the year that you and satoru had ended things until now, you'd slept with a couple guys. you'd even dated one or two of them, but god, none of them could use their mouth like satoru could.

satoru can't help but smile as he eats you out, pulling away momentarily to shake his head at you. "tsk, you were so mean to me earlier. and now look at you." he dips his head to nip at your clit and grins when he feels you flinch.

"i've barely even started and you're already drippin' all over my sheets," he mutters, lips brushing against your inner thigh. "fuck, takin' my tongue so good, you little slut."

"satoru, i w-wanna cum," you mewl, shuddering when his tongue re-enters your folds. "wan' you inside me."

"i already am, dummy."

you feebly attempt to swat his head in response before scowling and insisting that he knew what you meant.

satoru scoffs as he pulls himself up to face level to you. he readjusts his position over you so your back is pressed into the mattress underneath him before pressing his lips to your ear.

"let's put that mouth of yours to use, yeah?" he mumbles, slipping two fingers underneath his sweatpants' waistband and tugging him off. 

it's been years since you last fucked with satoru, and in that time you had forgotten just how pretty he was. you'd never admit it out loud, but you really didn't mind the reminder. setting into a comfortable position, you wrap your lips around his cock, relishing the way his moans get louder and louder.

you hum slightly, resisting the urge to smile when you feel satoru shake from the vibration. but god, his reaction when you run your tongue over his tip? priceless.

"fuck, baby, it's been too long since you've sucked me off. forgot how good you were- aah," he cuts himself off with a breathy moan. "fuckkk."

you briefly stop to look up at him with a cheeky smile. "you still moan like a girl, satoru."

"and you're as much of a slut for me as ever," he grumbles, reaching down and pushing your head into his painfully hard cock again. "d-don't stop, baby. feels s' good."

satoru's moans only get louder from there, until you have to be the one reminding him that your daughter's asleep two doors down.

"m' gonna cum," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hair and tangling his long fingers in it. "swallow all of it, yeah? don't waste a drop."

you nod your head obiediently, using your tongue just the way you know he's always liked to push him closer and closer to the edge until–

"fuckin' whore," satoru gasps, groaning loudly as he cums in your mouth, hips grinding against your face. "aah, missed your s-slutty tongue, baby, fuck."

"missed your girly moans," you manage to gasp before his tip hits the back of your throat, painfully so.

"shut up and swallow," satoru commands, tugging on your hair just enough to make you cry out. "yeah, who's moaning like a slut now, hmm?"

after you swallow all his cum and lick your now-swollen lips, satoru has you open your mouth so he can check. 

"good girl, looks like there's at least one thing you can do right, even if it is just sucking me off. c'mere," he mutters, pinning you down on the mattress and making the bedsprings creak loudly. "m' gonna fuck you, m'kay?"

you nod, reaching out to stroke his saliva-covered cock. "y-yes, please, satoru."

your ex-husband, who you should really not be fucking with, looks down at you with a smirk and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips. "you look so pretty, baby. all covered in my cum, never looked hotter."

he nudges your legs apart with his knee before pushing himself into you, gritting his teeth through a smug grin when you cry out in pain. "careful, baby. wouldn't wanna wake up our daughter with your slutty moans, would ya?"

"s-satoru, hurts s' much," you whine, pawing at his chest. "you're too big, i can't-"

"you're too big, i can't," satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. "how do you think our daughter was made, baby? did the storks just drop her off?"

his next thrust is particularly harsh, and something about your pained cry almost makes him cum again on the spot. "fuck, we should do this more often," satoru cooes, reaching up and stroking your cheek. "wait, you cryin'?"

yes, you were crying. your cheeks were wet with a mixture of your tears and the remainder of his cum from earlier, and fuck, all you could think about was satoru's cock. so much for being so over him.

satoru laughs, shaking his head and slowing his pace to give you a kiss. "just when i thought you couldn't get any prettier, you gotta go and prove me wrong," he mumbles, licking his lips. "god, you're fucking beautiful."

he presses his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue slip into your mouth. "i missed you so much, baby. i still do," he mutters in between kisses. he's controlling the pace, purposefully making each kiss's ending sudden as to not allow you to talk — only him.

"you know how many times i've jacked off to you?" satoru breaths, reaching down to grab your thighs and push you impossibly deeper into him. "you know how fuckin' much i want to put a ring on your finger?"

"satoru, i-" you try to say, but his mouth is on yours before you can finish your sentence. and a couple seconds later, more words are waterfalling out of him.

"fuck, baby, you have no idea. i fucked up, but i swear i've changed. c'mon, give me one chance, i-"

"mummy? daddy?"

you and satoru both flinch and whip your heads towards the door when you hear your daughter's voice, preparing to make up some far-fetched story to tell her besides we were fucking.

thankfully, the universe allows you two seconds to cover yours and satoru's bodies with a blanket before your daughter opens the door and pokes her head inside. "i heard noises."

you look at satoru for help making up an excuse, and thankfully he has one ready to go. 

"oh, we were just watching a movie," he lies, running a hand through his hair. "go back to bed, kiddo. we'll tuck you back in in a second, yeah?"

your daughter looks at you before looking back at satoru and nodding. 

"close the door, please!" you call as she turns to leave. when the door shuts behind her, you let out a long exhale and bury your head in satoru's chest.

and to your horror, the door opens once more.

your daughter looks at you with shiny, curious eyes. "mommy, are you and daddy back together?"

satoru saves you from having to answer that impossible question with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "go back to bed, pumpkin. i'll be there to tuck you in."

ten seconds after the door shuts for what you hope is the final time, you turn and glare at satoru. "you're gonna tuck her in?"

satoru scoffs in mock disbelief, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking you up and down. "if you wanna tuck in our four year old daughter covered in my cum, be my guest."

you nudge his arms off of you and bury your face in a pillow, groaning softly. "fuck you, satoru."

"love you too, sweetheart."

[ichorai]

wool ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive

warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner

a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his pale irises as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter. 

Control. That was all he needed. 

It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you. 

You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.

That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.

But there were… distractions.

Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.

He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.

Lower, lower, dangerously low—

When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.

She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”

Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.

“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”

You stiffened, and Coryo bristled. 

“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.” 

There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.

You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time. 

“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”

The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine. 

“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.

“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”

You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”

The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”

“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.

Your head tilted to the side, molten eyes fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?

But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you. 

“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”

Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.

“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.

When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his. 

“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”

He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?

His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.

As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth. 

After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.

He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

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[luveline]

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated. 

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong. 

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?" 

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks. 

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach. 

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong." 

"I'm just trying to figure something out." 

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance. 

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein. 

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?" 

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop. 

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something. 

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention." 

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights. 

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done? 

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time. 

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again. 

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears. 

This is all so messy, and it's your fault. 

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me. 

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid. 

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help. 

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go." 

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention. 

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up. 

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell. 

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you. 

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it." 

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry." 

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel. 

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug. 

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes  

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon. 

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset " 

"I'm an idiot–" 

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–" 

"I shouldn't have–" 

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away. 

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up." 

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into? 

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me." 

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile. 

"It's not okay." 

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even." 

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked." 

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?" 

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back." 

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better." 

"I know, angel." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you." 

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful. 

"Does it look really bad?" 

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already." 

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to." 

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid." 

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask. 

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not." 

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure." 

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want." 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. 

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it. 

"That feels nice," you mumble. 

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?" 

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it. 

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry, angel." 

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.

[horrorartsworld]

Hi, I saw your posts and I liked them, so I thought I'll make a request, Adam x fem Reader smut, Adam fucks Lucifer's wife so he can get revenge on Lucifer and Lucifer ends up finding out

OOOOOOO spicy spicy. lemme see what i can do >:)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

revenge is sweet

adam/lucifer’s demon wife f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw BE WARNED OOOHOHOOO

nsfw part two with lucifer !!

As you lie in bed you couldn’t help but realize how distant your husband has truly been these last few months.

Never really answering your calls, waking up in the morning with him not laying beside you, hardly ever going on dates or just spending quality time together, and more importantly you’ve haven’t had sex in a hot minute.

It was all just adding up over the course of time and you didn’t want to seem like you weren’t being understanding to his needs since he was the overlord of hell after all and there were many times he was needed to help Charlie with the hotel, but you needed your fair share of attention too.

In which you weren’t getting at all this very moment.

Thrashing around in your bed you start to get fed up with these pointless thoughts making you finally sit up rather annoyed. Not helping the fact that your eyes immediately gravitate to your phone snatching it off the dresser to see if he’s even bothered messaging you, not one peep.

Grumbling you jump out of bed as you stomped your way into your closet to put something sexy on to wear out. Dressing yourself in a short black dress that fit nicely around the waist, fishnets underneath and some boots to match. This was usually something you’d wear before you met Luci, but now was not the time to dwell on old things as you looked at yourself in the mirror watching your pointed tail thrash behind you feeling very pleased with yourself and outfit.

Not shortly after you were out the door and walking down the streets of Hell looking for anything to fuck up or a place to drown your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle with this new found energy in you. Then bingo you finally approach it….a flashy new night club that must’ve just opened about a week ago. Seeming to be a little too close to the outskirts of heaven for your comfort, but you tried to not pay it much mind as the neon lights were calling your name.

Once you walk in the whole place is alive and packed. Music is blaring and dancers are dancing, everyone’s having the time of their lives, but you couldn’t shake this weird feeling as you noticed what looked like angels dressed in revealing clothing taking demons back to the establishments private rooms. This had to be some sick joke you just happened to walk in on that you wanted absolutely no part of.Quickly putting your hood on to conceal some of your identity in hopes to go unnoticed by anyone around since you were the overlords second wife after all and would hate to have something like this get back to him.

Strolling up to the bar you order the strongest drink they got, downing it within seconds before you were given another one and downing that one too, impressing some of the patrons sat beside you who looked they had measly drinks compare to yours. 

You softly chuckle to yourself before looking off at one of the dancers getting money thrown at them lost in thought, that you quickly got snapped out of when the doors of the club were snatched open and as if a large flashlight was shinned inside the dimly lit club revealing all of its nasty secrets, none other than the purest of pure himself, Adam, had strolled in.

“Oh shit…” you grimace knowing damn well if he saw you he’d make your life a living hell as if you weren’t already living in it. As you try to scoot away to a more inconspicuous spot in the club away from the utter chaos commencing and raunchy comments you feel a shameful tug at the end of your tail making your body freeze instantaneously.

“Well well well…why look at what we have here~” his voice having a more sinful touch to it as he started reeling you in closer to him by your tail till your back was pressed against his chest.

“Adam…this isn’t the time or the place…” you hiss trying to pull your tail away that he had rather a firm grip on.

“Ohhh come on my nasty little vixen…you know we have history that runs DEEP…if you know what i mean~” the annoying slickness in his voice was surprisingly making your thighs quiver as he playfully thrusted against your behind after implying the ‘deep’ past you two shared. Your mind was scrabbling with both the booze and his words mixing in making it hard for you to even think straight though the feeling deep in your core was enough to make your emotions quite clear.

“T-that was a long time ago…i-i’m changed now~” Not controlling the stammer in your voice as he tugs down your hood revealing your demon like features as you hurriedly try to pull the hood back up letting Adam get a glimpse of your wedding ring.

He scoffs as a more pissed off look contorted on his face grabbing your hand now roughly taking a look at the big diamond decorating your ring finger. “Don’t tell me you married that fucking loser..”

You flinched as he mentioned him, knowing better than anyone about their long and ongoing rivalry as you just so happened to be one of the main factors of it.

Being one of Adam’s number one girls and then getting the boot not shortly after and to have Lucifer pick up all the pieces was bringing too many feelings back that you just tried to get rid of and now they were knocking down your door once more.

“So, what if i did…it’s not like you ever had the balls” you taunt snatching your hand back.

“Oh honey i have the balls…and the dick…it’s just your choice if you want ether one of them~”

It took everything in your power right then in there not to slap him with that now smug look playing back on his face. “You’re still so insufferable”

“Just the way you like it sweet cheeks~”

“Please don’t call me that” You huff facing away from him and towards the bar once more as you then feel the pressure of his hard-on against your ass.

“C’mon i’m just having a little fun….and i think someone else wants to too~” He mutters huskily amongst your ear so only the two of you could hear as he embarrassingly started rocking his hips against your ass.

You turn hastily as you begin pushing him towards one of the private rooms, getting suspicious looks from club goers as you then slam the door locking it.

“What the fuck was that Adam?!” You shout with your horns growing and tail thrashing rather quickly.

He shrugs trying to act harmless now as if he wasn’t just dry humping you infront all those people.

“It got us alone didn’t it?” a smirk forming on his lips as he walks over to you looking down with a hint of mischief in his eye that always made you melt on the spot like it was doing right now.

Your morals wanting to play a big role so badly in this situation but something inside you didn’t want to stop as he let his fingers tease off your jacket making it fall to the ground with a thud.

Breath hitching as he pulls you closer, lips just a few tantalizing inches apart as he looks down at them and then back at you before whispering, “I’m gonna fuck you like he never could.”

Then his lips were hungrily on you in a messy tongue kiss, mouths clashing together as his hands found their way to your ass giving it a nice squeeze before turning the two of you around and making your way to the bed.

The backs of your knees catching the end of it causing you to fall back with him falling on top of you never breaking the kiss as you start to undo his robe letting your delicate fingers playfully rub against his skin making him shiver before the robe was completely discarded with much haste.

Along with your dress not far after but he kept your fishnets on seeing your panties through them seemed to be doing something for him as he broke the kiss cursing under his breath as he turned you around with your ass poking up.

“Such a fucking slut aren’t you?”

He sends a nice slap against your ass causing a mewl to escape your lips in response as a red hand print started to form along your precious skin.

Not being able to pull his gaze away from the sight as he sent another slap against your ass watching you grip the sheets infront of you as your tail flicked up and against his chest with another mewl coming from you. He chuckled lowly to himself noticing the wet patch starting to form along your panties all by chest spanking your ass like he was.

“You’re such a nasty girl aren’t you, getting spanked by someone who isn’t your husband~” he asks again stroking his own ego though it just turned you on more, he suddenly ripped open your fishnets along with your panties with such sudden strength making you gasp as the coolness of the air hit your exposed wetness.

He gently stroked two digits along your sweet folds smearing the slick along them as it causes you bits of pleasure making your tail wrap around his wrist to keep him going.

Though his fingers went away once you did making you pout as he then suddenly wrapped a hand around your tail raising your ass somewhat in the air as he slapped it with the other once again.

“That’s a bad girl…using your tail to make me go faster~” he tuts watching as you wither underneath him as you were helpless with your tail in his grasp like this.

“m- sorry~” you say softly almost pleadingly with your need so obviously infront of him.

“Atta girl baby…saying sorry to the one who really owns you~” he senses your urgency and he can practically see the drip of your pussy infront of him making his dick twitch in the confines of his boxers.

A low growl comes from him behind you as he continues to keep a strong hold on your tail as the point flicks in his fist and quickly pulls out his dick without wasting time to position himself at your entrance as pushes himself inside you not giving you a moment to adjust as he bottoms out.

Whining uncomfortably at his size as he starts to set a slow and deliberate pace, savoring the sensation of your tight body enveloping him.

“Shhhh you can take it~” he encourages as he leans down capturing one of your horns in his other hand pulling you back to kiss along your neck as he arched your back for you with his hold. The angle was hitting a certain spot inside of you it was making it more pleasurable to the point you were seeing stars as he then increased his pace. His thrusts becoming more possessive and greedy in his attempts to claim you from that bastard.

Your moans were confirming this making his thrusts quicken in pace just to hear every one of those noises come out of you. Making you get closer to your release already, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer ether as he pushed as many out as he could before you were clamping down on him.

A loud cry rippling out of your throat as your body spasmed against him as the ecstasy fueled your veins. “That’s it….cum for me…know who owns this pussy~”

Feeling the intoxicating tightness of your walls milking his cock and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his own body, Adam couldn’t take it any longer to hold back and with his own loud groan, he releases himself inside you, filling you up nicely with his warmth.

He didn't care if he came inside of you, he wanted him to know exactly who marked his territory here and who rightfully owned you no matter the marital status. 

Adam falls beside you laying on his back with his hands behind his head, quite happy with himself as you crawl up to cuddle against him.

As you lay there for a moment against Adam’s chest catching your breath you hear a foreign noise of buzzing coming from next to you repeatedly.

Looking down at your phone to your surprise to see almost 50+ miss calls and texts from Lucifer.

You curse under your breath as you pick all your things up and hurriedly put your clothes back on. Managing to struggle putting your dress back on almost tripping and falling all the while Adam watches you from the bed with the covers only covering his bottom half as he was laid out like he wanted to be painted like a french girl with a shit-eating grin plastered along his face.

“Awww does the big man want you back already?”

Scuffing as you didn’t really want to hear any more of his smartass mouth you left heading back to you and Lucifer’s home.

——————

Later that night you feel the warmth spread in your cheeks as you did your best to avoid eye contact with your husband as he was pacing in your shared bedroom wondering where the hell you’ve been and babbling on and on about how he’s been worried sick, until you blurted out about your whereabouts.

Immediately regretting it as the words slipped from your mouth.

“HE DID WHAT?!”

Rubbing the back of your arm sheepishly as you stood there watching Lucifer’s eyes turn red as his demon form became more prominent, teeth snarling as he came closer to you. “Well….hehe…we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we my love?” danger laced in his voice as he closed the space between you two.

“oh i’m fucked.”

[stevenose]

body to flame (18+)

summary: steve’s insists he only needs twenty minutes to make you cum.

contains: reader with a vagina; ‘good girl’ and ‘pretty girl’ used for reader; no pronouns for reader; fingering (reader receiving); banter; bitchy!steve; sort of mean!steve but it’s all in good fun

this is hardly proofread so apologies 💔

“All I need is twenty minutes.”

You scoff and look over your shoulder at Steve, who hasn’t even bothered looking up from the tapes he’s reorganizing.

“Twenty minutes?” you repeat. “That’s not even a whole lunch break.”

“I’ve done it quicker.”

“Bullshit, Steve.”

“You’re scared, huh?” he asks.

“Of you making me cum? Yes.”

Now he scoffs, looking up at you, placing his hands on his hips. Bitchy. “You really don’t believe me?”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Huh.” He stares at you, narrows his eyes at the back of your head. “Give me a chance, won’t ya?”

“A chance?”

“Let me try it on you.”

You whip around, hurling an empty VHS box at him, which he somehow dodges in the nick of time. “No way!”

“What? Don’t wanna be proven wrong?”

“You ever think that maybe I don’t want you to touch me?”

He laughs, much to your shock.

“Steve,” you sigh. “Get a grip.”

It’s silent for a while. You go back to inputting returns and Steve moves around, replacing them. Then he comes back to the check out desk, leaning on it with his forearms. Crowds your space, makes you back up, your cheeks heating up.

“My paycheck.”

You falter. “What about it?”

“I’ll give you my entire paycheck if I can’t make you cum in twenty or less.”

Your eyes roll, but he can see right through you.

“Are you making fifteen dollars more than me an hour or something?”

“I got overtime twice last week!” he defends. “Should be a couple hundred.”

You lick your lips, eyes moving back to the computer as if you’re interested in it more than him. “And if you do? You want my paycheck?”

“When I do, then you’ll let me have another hour with you.”

“To do what? Torture me?”

Steve just smiles.

You narrow your eyes. “Where would this even happen?”

“Uh, on break?” he says, like you’re dense. “Put up a ‘be back in twenty’ sign. Or maybe I should just close up shop?”

The entire thing is so scandalous that it has your face burning up, almost suffocatingly. And he won’t stop looking at you with those dumb puppy dog eyes. A little pout tugging his lips downward.

“You’re gonna beg me?” you snark.

“Couple hundred would go a long way, wouldn’t it?”

You’re so sure you can win at this. Even if he’s good, twenty minutes isn’t that long. And that’s how you end up on his lap on the dilapidated couch in the back room, a “be back in twenty :)” sign slapped onto the front door. Your pants are off and in a heap on the floor below you, underwear still on - you made Steve swear he’d work around them.

No cock, either. “This isn’t just an excuse to get your dick wet, is it?”

Hands thrown up in surrender, he’d said, “Fine, fine. Fingers only:”

“You’re gonna be so broke,” you insist, but it’s already getting difficult. He’s hard underneath you and apparently neither of you will bring it up. Steve looks so pleased with himself, and the confidence makes your stomach flip.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” His eyes are glinting, full of mischief. “You’re gonna be spending an hour in the Harrington Torture Chamber.”

You laugh boisterously. “And what’s that entail?”

He glares playfully, hands moving up your thighs, settling where they meet your ass. “You’ll just have to see.”

His fingers glide underneath the material, hands first grabbing your ass. You gasp a little as he kneads. “You let me know when to start.”

You twist around to look at the clock behind you. 5:37 pm. Jesus, you’re doing this before it’s even dark out. You look back at him, annoyingly handsome below you, little highlights playing in his curls.

“Now seems fine,” you finally say.

Steve looks over your shoulder. “What do you say we stop at an even six o’clock?”

“Now, Steve.”

There’s really no fanfare. He doesn’t take much time with you, moving his hands around to the front to cup your cunt over your underwear. His thumb finds your clit immediately and you let out an embarrassingly easy whine.

“Right there?” he coos. “Always been good at findin’ it.”

“Bullshit,” you breathe, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Prob- you probably just found out about the clit.”

“Y’know, you better learn to use that mouth for somethin’ a little better than insulting me.”

You’re incredibly, incredibly thankful his fingers weren’t inside of you when he said that. You clench down, pleasure coursing from your stomach to your clit while he rubs gentle circles into it.

“That shut you up,” he muses. “Like being told what to do, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

His thumb presses a little harder. Still delicious - more so, in fact. You bite your cheek hard and stare at his forehead. His eyes are too intense for you.

“Can’t even look at me,” he tsks. “This is a lot for you, huh? It’s only been two minutes.”

You’re thankful for the reminder. You push your thoughts away, starting to think of the new releases coming up, the new cash reconciliation process. But it only works for about three minutes, until Steve gets bored with your non-reaction and slips his fingers under your underwear.

“Jesus,” he moans, “you’re so wet.” He licks his lips. “This all for me? Or are you wet from when Keith came in earlier?”

“Shut up!”

“It’s gotta be one of them, huh?” he presses, rubbing bigger, stronger circles into your clit while his other fingers press into your entrance just a bit. You gasp and clench again, and Steve smirks. “It was Keith, wasn’t it? Can’t wait to tell our friends how horny you get for him.”

“Not Keith,” you pant.

“Oh, then me?”

“Shut up!”

“No way.” His middle finger rubs against your hole. “This is too easy, babe. Got twelve minutes left with you and you’re already creamin’.”

You choose to ignore him, taking deep breaths, squeezing his shoulders. When you least expect it, Steve slides his finger inside of you.

“O-oh -!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it.” Looks at you like he’s really pitying you. “I give you another two minutes.”

“Just - I - just -“ You feel insane, so hot from his attention, pleasure building wickedly fast in your lower stomach. “I need - give me a break.”

“Uh-uh,” he says, wrapping his free arm tight around you and fucking his finger nice and slow in and out of you. Your jaw clenches, squirming to get away from the pleasure, but his arm keeps you planted in place. “Didn’t say twenty minutes with breaks, did I? Not gonna let you cheat.”

Steve’s fingers working in tandem, your mind begins fogging over. You continue squirming - away from or towards him, you’re not exactly sure.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long,” he mumbles. “You’re easy, though.”

“It’s too much,” you whine. Six minutes left. He doesn’t even seem phased.

“I know,” he coos. “Overwhelming, huh? Can’t act like a big girl now, can you?”

You hate the way that’s fueled your fire. Desperate to hold on, you lean forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Fingernails dig into his skin through his shirt and vest and he smiles at your reaction.

“Go ahead and hide, baby, but I better see your face when you cum.”

You take a shaky breath and bite down onto his shoulder. Steve groans, fingers picking up their pace, and now you’re really, truly fucked.

You try to think of anything else. Car payment. Potholes on Main Street. Library fines. Keith.

But Steve’s whispering in your ear, saccharine, his voice a velvety deep tenor that makes your chest vibrate. “There we go, good girl. You’re gonna cum so hard for me, huh? You’re so easy. Give it up so good, don’t you? Just for a few extra bucks? Or did you really want played with? Starting to think it’s the latter, babe.”

“Steve,” you cry, thighs shaking and clenching. Steve surely has no feeling in his hand but he keeps up his work, anyway. Three minutes to go.

“Uh-huh, I know, so hard, isn’t it? Just love being fucked on my fingers so much. When I get that extra hour I’m gonna see how many you can take. You’re so tight, gonna take a whole fist to get you ready for my cock.”

You’re seriously shocked. And you’re so desperate for it that your clit tenses up, ready to burst, ready for your vision to go black and for you to moan embarrassingly loud right on Steve’s lap. You reach down for his wrist, gripping it tight, shaking your head and scrunching your face.

“Go on,” he praises, smiling wide, working just a little faster. “Cum for me, give it up, pretty girl.”

You squeal and bury your head into Steve’s shoulder again while you cum, your hips grinding against his hand, making it drip. Steve laughs, moves his arm so he’s rubbing your back instead of pinning you down. “Oh, that felt so good, didn’t it? Feels so good being bitched out on my lap, huh?”

And that’s it. You cum again. Clenching down, shouting into his skin, teeth piercing it open. Steve gasps and groans, lets you ride his hand until your hips still and you’re panting, jaw unclenching from his flesh.

“What did I tell you?” he asks, still rubbing your back. “That was two with two minutes to spare, sweetheart. Want me to put another sign up? You might be busy for a while.”

[mellowwillowy]

Streamer Reader: *streams normally*

Yan! Hacker: *moderating chat professionally*

Streamer Reader: great job Seth! You are the best mod I've ever had! Not to mention my revenue is increasing after you fill in for that last mod.

Yan! Hacker: *doxxing and blackmailing all the haters into donating for you* mmh, that's great.

The previous mod: *scared shitless after getting blackmailed by Seth*

-- IMG, NSFW —𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Hacker who tapped your phone the first time you and he had an IRL meet-up. He doesn't look like those typical stuck in at all, instead, he is very nice although tends to be silent/listener all the time.

Yan! Hacker who is not only nice, he is actually no different from how he acts in the game you two were once stuck in! Remember how much of an asshat he was? (No, I don't.) Yes, he is still an asshat except that you don't know that he's an asshat that is obsessed over you!

Yan! Hacker who thought the first meeting you two had as a first date deep down inside his heart, remembering every little thing the two of you did and jot it down like a teenager in love.

Yan! Hacker who will somehow find a way to make you invite him to your place, allowing him to tap your PC, laptop, door's password anything that

Yan! Hacker who is surprisingly actually really younger than you by 2 years, you thought he was only bluffing in the game to make himself younger. He would use that fact to tease you for being an oldie, fooling your fans into thinking you are some teenager.

Yan! Hacker who would watch you non-stop after having your whole shits under his control. While he did introduce himself to you as a programmer, he has also learned more than just those silly codings. Oh, he even knows how to deactivate your security alarm so that you would never know how he sneaks into your room, jerking himself off into your face.

Don't worry, he will reactivate it again once he leaves, wouldn't want people to barge into your place like they own it right.

Yan! Hacker who will somehow always give you the things you place in the wishlist cart. While it is indeed touching, how the fuck does he know all the things you want and need???

Yan! Hacker who will do questionable shits to every conversation you hold online. Anyone he deems as an eyesore would somehow be... gone. Don't worry, he's sane enough to not bother anything related to your work. That will be handled by him personally without using your account. (Read blackmail)

—

Yan! Hacker: How about we go to Japan? I heard the Love Hotel here *shows review* is great. Lots of varieties and *explains everything you've done your research on*

Streamer Reader: ...? Yeah this is where I wanna go on my next vacation, how come you got the same idea as I do?

—

Streamer Reader: *loses a debate online*

Yan! Hacker: *coming in like a white knight with another fresh blackmail material*

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (1)

That time you - a broke college student - were willing to do just about anything for a hulu account after your brother kicks you off of his - (and Jungkook would do anything to have you).

Series Masterlist

Word count: 1.687

Warning: idk yall, i was bored, smut, college au, jungkook is thirsty, reader is somewhat slutty but with good reasons, dirty talking, swallowing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cumming,

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, twirling the head in your mouth. You only slightly (maybe more than you want to admit) the way the salty pre-cum drips into your mouth as you suck. Even better were his moans - so soft and velvety; melodic. 

if anyone was to blame it had to be your brother - he was the nuisance in your life. It was as if he intended on making your life a complete mess.

You were a good person, daughter and sister. You did what you had to do - attend classes everyday. You went to work and then home without a care. You worked at a grocery store part time and made enough to pay your half of the rent. Sure, with the price of groceries now you couldn’t be bothered to buy any. But that’s where your parents came in. You craved independence from them but only for privacy. You made sure you were there every night for dinner and sometimes if you had time, breakfast in the mornings. 

Your brother was just upset that you accidentally bought an add-on on his hulu account - but how else were you supposed to watch what you wanted if he was too cheap to pay for anything further? It was bad enough you had to sit through 2 minute ads - it was the least he could do.

This is how you now found yourself sucking Jungkook off - the same man you had been dodging ever since the pair of you met. He gave off fuck boy vibes and the last thing you needed was that in your life - until you actually did need Jungkook. The irony.

Jungkook watches with hooded eyes at the beautiful sight of you. You had now grasped the length of his cock and began to pump him, focusing more on the tip of his head. He was glad the two of you were alone - seeing as you didn’t even have the decency to take him to your room and insisted on doing this on the couch. But Jungkook wasn’t a picky person - he prayed for times such as this. You were the play hard to get type and one thing he enjoyed was the chase. 

Jungkook places a hand on the back of your head and thrusts lighty into your mouth, groaning as he does so. You allowed it. You laid your tongue flat, eyes flickering up to watch his expression. Satisfaction bubbled deep inside of you at the sight of his lust-filled expression. Dark hooded eyes, gasping lips.

“I waited, fuck…so long for this.” Jungkook groans, pumping inside of your mouth a little faster. His thumb caresses your cheek. “I told you that I’d have you one day, didn’t I?” he says smugly. 

You groan a response, throat vibrating against his cock. That bastard, you thought. Jungkook did - he told you that one day your “play hard to get” act would crumble and when it did, he’d be there. But this couldn’t count - right? You were doing this for the greater good, after all. You had shows to watch and Jungkook just so happened to be the one that had a premium account.

You feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock tickling the back of your throat, testing to see how far you’d let him go. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips and it drips slowly down your chin. Your mouth was heavy - wet and warm and inviting. You were determined to make him cum and he was determined to do just that. 

Jungkook’s hand grips your hair - you moan at the sensation. He pumps just a little faster, your slurps and gagging hitting his ears and he moans at just how filthy you were for him. 

“I’m about to cum.” Jungkook groans. His free hand wipes away a lone tear that releases from your eye. “You okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts.

Your response was to bring him deeper into your mouth, blinking up at him. You slap his thigh harshly and that was all the permission he needed to fuck your throat. He shudders, feeling his toes curl. It didn’t help that your teary eyes watched his every move - and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even now while he took control, you remain just as stubborn; challenging him. “F-Fuck…” Jungkook grunts. “W-Where do I cum?”

Jungkook wants to slap himself, forgetting that you can’t exactly respond to him. But he’s unsure if cumming inside of your mouth would be too intimate - but then again, you could always spit it out and he would be fine with that. 

You gag, feeling your throat swell with the warm, salty substance. You inhale through your nose and moan. “L-Let me find-” Jungkook watches as you swallow and lick your lips - he feels his cheeks redden and his heart thump.

You wipe your eyes of the pathetic tears and hum. “Don’t get big headed.” you hiss.

Jungkook smirks and bats his eyelashes. “Never.” he says. “I already made you a profile on my hulu account.”

You watch as Jungkook takes out his phone to show you the account and like state, he did make you your own profile. You snort at the name - stargirl. “I’ll text you the information to get into it.”

You place your hands onto his thighs. Your eyes lower to his cock - it wasn’t completely erect, but it wasn’t softening, either. 

“I was told I would get peacock and hbo max.” you say to him. You didn’t want to tell him that you were wet and wanted to ride him, his head was already big enough. 

“I have hbo max as an add on with hulu.” Jungkook responds, eyes darkening at the thought of feeling you. 

“Hm. That’s too bad.” you tilt your head. “I wanted to ride you.”

“I can add disney.” Jungkook responds far too quickly, mentally cursing at how desperate he appeared.

Smirking, you nod your head. “Deal.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you lift from your knees and kick off your shorts, panties flying with them. He’s erect once more at the sight of your slick trailing down your thighs. Your thighs trap him beneath you as you center yourself on him. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Jungkook gulps. His hands place themselves firmly on your hips. “I can pull out.” he nods. “Unless you want another streaming service as payment for me cumming inside of you.” he jokes - unless…

Jungkook smirks at you and you could only glare. You sit down on him completely and wipe the smirk from his lips. Your hands grip his shoulders as you begin to pound on him. It doesn’t take time for the entire sitting room is filled with your moans mixed with Jungkooks as well as skin slapping.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jungkook murmurs, inching closer to capture your lips with his own. You never said anything against kissing is his defense.

You deepen the kiss, grinding against him. “Says the man who hasn’t stopped moaning since we started.”

Jungkook chuckles and does just that. His hands trail from your hips, to your thighs and upwards towards your breast. He grips both of your clothed breasts into his palms. “Pussy feels so good, I can’t help myself.”

You swallow your own moan back. You can’t let him know his words turn you on - he would never let you live it down. It’s bad enough you were fucking him for streaming services.

You shifted yourself, your feet firmly against the couch. You looked into his eyes as you began to bounce on him once more, satisfied that the man below you was a moaning mess - and broke eye contact first. His eyes begin to roll at the new found pleasure.

You decided that you wouldn’t hide your own pleasure anymore. Jungkook was big and this position only meant that his cock was hitting the right spot each time. 

“I know it feels good, baby.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality - and so does his thumb upon your clit. His thumb rubs hastily on it, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his cock.

“It does.” Maybe you were growing weak - but only because it did feel good. That, and the way Jungkook’s voice grows deeper and more sultry as he speaks is an added turn on. 

“What happened to the playing hard to get girl I know?” Jungkook’s now thrusting upwards inside of you to meet you halfway.

You clench around him. “Fuck you.” you murmur.

“I intend to.” Jungkook manages to laugh, his thumb leaving your clit to hook beneath your thighs. He continues where you left off, stamina unmatched. He pounds into you with such need - as if this was what he had been waiting for for who knows how long.

Your arms wrap around his neck and allow him the control - just this once. Jungkook’s reveling in your submission, murmuring dirty words in your ears as he fucks you. You were so wet - slick gripping out of you and onto his thighs - that he knew neither of you would last long.

You bite your lip when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your ass. He squeezes it with such need, moaning beautifully in your ears as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Where do I cum?” he asks suddenly.

“Anywhere.” was your response.

Jungkook took your lack of direction as a sign. His fingers lean down from your ass to find your clit once more. He toys with it as he thrusts, hellbent on making sure you cum right along with him. He wasn’t going to last - not with the way you were squeezing his cock right now.

“S-Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come undone right as Jungkook pulls out of you, cum leaking on your ass.

Jungkook leans against the couch and pants. There was no way he was going to leave you alone after this - but that’s okay because he knows you’ll close up once more and play that game you’ve been playing. Jungkook loved the chase and deep down, so do you.

Series Masterlist

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."