mwdorf

[moonstruckme]

Love love love the roommate james series! Thank you <3

Me too lovely! Thank YOU <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lightning strikes outside the window just before your laughter reaches James. He perks up, an electric current skittering down into his fingertips. He’s glad no one’s around to witness the way he swivels around on the couch to look out the window, searching for the source of the sound. 

Your key is in the lock a moment later. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run up and grab my umbrella?” you ask someone outside as you walk in. 

“No, thanks,” a male voice, sounding just as jovial as you do, responds. Without thinking, James stands up. “What’d be the point? I’m already soaked through.” 

“Seems like it’s really coming down out there,” James says, stepping into the doorway. You look over as though you hadn’t realized he was there. You’re sopping wet, hair dripping onto the floor and work clothes clinging to your body in ways James takes care not to notice. The man outside is similarly drenched, looking cold but remarkably happy as he takes shelter under the small awning outside your door. “You alright, mate?” 

“Good,” he replies, looking at James like he’s not sure if this is someone he’s supposed to be able to place. “And yourself?” 

“This is James,” you say, “my roommate. And this is Art, we work together.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” Art sticks out a hand, shaking James’ firmly before retracting back out onto your doorstep. “I’d better get home,” he says to you. “See you Friday?” 

“Yeah.” You nod briskly, giving him a small smile as he turns around and goes. James shuts the door after him with a definitive thud. 

“Christ, love, aren’t you cold?” He fights the urge to set his hands on your arms and rub warmth into them. His friends are so touchy, it’s a bit difficult to adjust for someone who isn’t. 

“Yeah,” you admit with another little smile (James likes this one better, though he’s unsure why). Now that you’re standing still, you’re beginning to shiver. “Could you maybe grab me a towel from upstairs? Sorry to ask, I just don’t want to track water in.” 

James is already moving. “Don’t be sorry,” he chides as he climbs the stairs. 

As he looks for where you keep your towels, he can’t stop thinking about the thrilled way you and Art had looked at each other. Your ringing laughter outside the door. He’s happy you feel comfortable enough at your job to laugh and have fun with your coworkers, but he’s a bit hurt that you don’t seem to feel the same sort of ease around him. James has managed to coax a few smiles from you since he moved in, and a decent amount of laughter, too, but more often than not it comes with some resistance. He’ll catch you trying to conceal a grin, cutting your laugh off before it’s really begun. Then you’ll look at him like you’re embarrassed for being caught in a joyous moment. As if they’re something to be bashful about, and not something that lightens James’ heart until it threatens to float off and take him with it. 

He ends up grabbing both the towel and that giant sweatshirt you like, tossing the latter in the dryer on his way back to you. 

“Thanks.” You reach for the towel, but James wraps it around your shoulders himself. 

“Don’t mention it.” He breaks, giving the tops of your arms a couple of good rubs before stepping back and letting you take over. “Do you want something warm to drink?” 

Your eyes light up, but then you purse your lips. “I’m fine, thanks.” 

James gives you a look. 

You must really be in a good mood, because you crack easily. “Fine, a hot cocoa would be night-making,” you admit, grinning at him again. He wouldn’t be surprised if his chest was actually, visibly glowing. “Thanks, James.” 

“So,” he asks, hating himself just a little bit, “why did Art walk you back if neither of you had an umbrella?” He flicks on the kettle. 

“He lives nearby,” you reply. “We actually walk home together fairly often, whenever we’re both working at night.” 

James feels a stab of guilt. Of course, it makes perfect sense that you’d need someone to walk with you when you’re leaving work after dark. He feels stupid and inconsiderate for not thinking of it. 

“That’s nice of him,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of walking you home before. I could always come and get you.” 

A pause. “Thanks, but you really don’t have to. And please don’t be sorry, it’s not your issue to think about.” 

It feels like his issue. He wants to think about it. “Still. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Yeah, but for Art it’s on his way home. You’d have to go both ways.” 

James doesn’t care. For reasons he doesn’t understand and refuses to reflect upon, he wants to be the one who makes sure you get home safely. That’s got to be a typical roommate responsibility, right? 

“You forget, I have a car,” he says, pouring the hot water into two mugs. He stirs in the cocoa mix. “I could drive both you and Art, if you’d like. Could have saved you a lot of trouble on a night like tonight.” 

“I actually really love the rain.” Your voice sounds clearer, and James turns around to find that evidently you’ve dubbed yourself dry enough to walk around. You’ve squeezed most of the moisture out of your hair, but your lashes are still clumped damply. Your face shines. “We ran because we were worried about our phones, but it was fun.” 

“Well, glad your impending hypothermia was worth it.” He starts to push your mug towards you, then pauses. “Oh, wait just a second.” 

He quickly goes back to the dryer, getting out your warmed sweatshirt and bringing it to you. Your face when you see it makes James wish he had a camera, your eyebrows hooking upward and lips actually parting like he’s brought you a kitten rather than a sweatshirt. You’re truly in rare form tonight. 

“Oh my god, thank you.” You start to position the hole over your head, then hesitate. “Actually, would you—” Your bottom lip goes briefly between your teeth, a flash of that shy girl he’s been seeing less and less of lately. You wrap your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “I should probably take my wet clothes off. Would you mind turning around for a minute?” 

“Oh—yeah, of course.” James does. He covers his eyes for good measure, smiling to himself when he hears your amused little huff from behind him. Then there’s the wet sound of some item of clothing hitting the floor, and his smile fades. He can hear your skin shushing against fabric, your quiet breaths, the tiny sound you make when your clothes stick obstinately to your skin just for a moment before you peel them off. James feels somewhat warmer than he did a minute ago. 

“Okay, you’re good.” 

He turns around, and you’ve already got your hot cocoa in hand. Your sweatshirt hits at mid-thigh, sleeves covering the better parts of your hands that aren’t wrapped covetously around your mug. It takes a great deal of willpower not to look at the clothes piled on the floor and see if your underwear are among them. 

“This is really good,” you say, somewhat awkwardly. You’re looking at James bemusedly, used to him being the one who talks. 

He jumps back into his role. “I don’t know why you sound surprised. It always is, when I make it.” 

James leads the both of you into the living room, plopping down on the couch. You, of course, have the option of going upstairs to your room, but he knows you’ll follow. You sit down carefully, tucking your knees under the hem of your sweatshirt and resting your mug atop them. 

“So,” he says, reaching forward and unsticking a piece of hair from your eyebrow. You fluster but let him, and he smooths it behind your ear, “are you the type of person who likes to stay in and watch films when it’s storming, or do you only enjoy running about in them?” 

You hum into your hot cocoa. “I like a film.” 

“Perfect, then it’s your pick this time.” You start to protest, but James holds firm. “No, you’ve bullied me into picking the last three. It’s time to start pulling your weight around here.” 

It takes you a bit longer to relent, but finally he gets you to admit to a preferred film. As the intro credits are playing, thunder cracks outside, and an excited little shiver has you bringing up your shoulders. A smile, seemingly unconscious, ghosts over your lips. James grins in response. Cute. 

[luveline]

would you ever write a ditsy!reader with sirius? where he's grumpy and she's just giggly and makes him feel a little less grumpy? I love you and your writing sending kisses <3

I love you

Fuck’s sake. Sirius glares at the TV. Fuck off. 

“What’s it say?” you call from the kitchen. 

“It’s raining all weekend.” 

“No way, really?” You appear with a tea towel in your hands, wiping your fingers dry one at a time. “Shit, sorry, baby. I guess we better get out our rain ponchos.” 

Sirius loves concerts, but he hates shitty weather. “What if they cancel?” 

“I don’t think they’ll cancel.” You put the tea towel on the coffee table and gesture for him to do something. What it is you want is unclear, but Sirius leans back, and, as usual, you make yourself at home in his lap. Gentle but not shy. “We might get a bit muddy, is all.” 

You rest your ribs half on his chest and half against the sofa. This close, he can confess to finding you the kind of beautiful that makes his jaw ache. Being around you is like a constant re-realisation that you’re his amazing girl, his one good love, as he likes to put it. Romance has never felt more real to him than when he’s with you, slipping his arm behind your back, and letting your nose at his jawline. Then the man on TV says the area is at risk of thunder and lightning on Saturday and he forgets to be in love. 

“Fucking hell,” he complains, clinging to you as though you have the power to change what the weatherman has to say. 

“It won’t be as bad as you’re thinking,” you sing-song back. 

“No, we’ll be turned to husks when we’re struck by lightning, but I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

“So negative,” you murmur, drawing along his collar. 

“I’m being realistic, lovely, our weekend is completely ruined.” 

“That’s not true, is it? Your weekend is ruined. Mine is the same as it was, because I don’t care if it rains on Metallica, I just want to spend time with you.” 

“You’re such a dick,” he says through a soft laugh. 

“Why? Because I am clearly the more loving partner?” you tease. 

“Yes. Because I don’t care about you at all, I only care about the concert, and spending time with you means nothing to me.” 

“Oh, well when you put it like that,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss his neck softly. Short presses of your lips with the faintest of sounds, then you're giggling. He’s glad you can’t see his face. You’d run with the honeyed smile he wears now. He would never hear the end of it. 

“I’ll have to find your anorak,” he says, rubbing a loving path down your back. 

“We’ll get the thermals out of the attic. Don’t worry, baby, the rain won’t ruin all your fun.” You kiss him again, and laugh like you’ve made a joke he isn’t privy to. 

“What’s funny?” he asks. 

“I just love you when you’re mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” 

“Aggrieved, then.” You lift your face only to hold his and press your nose to his cheek. You move your face back and forth, like a hurried nuzzling. “You’re such a downer.” 

“Stop it.” 

“Make me,” you say through giggles. 

He closes his eyes and turns in for a proper kiss. 

[delirious-donna]

Dangerous Games [Hoshina Soshiro]

an: the Vice-Captain may be your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the wicked games he likes to play… now, sit pretty.

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, dangerous liaisons, semi-exhibitionism (I guess?), Soshiro is a wicked boy but he adores you truly

Masterlist

If you tried to recall what possessed you to think this was a good idea, you were left with absolutely nothing in mind. It was a dangerous game, one you never thought Soshiro would be up for playing, but here you were, sat on the Vice-Captain’s lap surrounded by comrades and the likes in the communal movie room.

Yes, you were more than one of the operatives charged with ensuring the safety of the division’s officers, far more. You were the girlfriend of Vice Captain Hoshina and whilst it still made you giddy when you thought about it, it was no secret. Soshiro wasn’t the type to be too overly affectionate with others around, but he didn’t shy away from touching you when the opportunity struck. A hand on the small of your back, a lightning-fast kiss pressed to the top of your head, a cheeky grope of your behind when he was certain no one was looking. But this? This was something altogether new…

The room was dark with the only light being emitted from the projector shining a movie onto the wall with vivid colour. It felt hot, of course it did, the sticky feeling of being smothered by too many layers itched down your spine and you wondered if the others felt it too. There were far more faces in here than you had predicted when you first fell into Soshiro’s little game—it felt more like a trap now—and you burned with the knowledge that they could discover the depths of your depravity at any moment.

In sheer desperation to distract your wayward mind and the reactions of your body, you tried to remember the plot of the movie. To at least try and follow along with what was happening but it was impossible when the man beneath you was doing his damnedest to ruin you so completely.

The spread of wet kisses started innocently enough at your cheek. They moved lower to your jaw, long clever fingers angling your head so he could suck little marks at your pulse and the delicate bone at your clavicle. A curtain of silky amethyst hair hid his face from you, obscuring the area of his next attack which he disguised as showering you in affection. You were no fool. You could feel his smile against your clammy skin, and it only worsened the predicament.

You rutted your hips, barely an inch but it was enough for the almost silent groan to echo from the depths of his chest. A strong, capable chest that was pressed flush against your back, a hand at your waist to hold you steady in his lap. Immediately you stilled, breath caught fast in your throat, but it was too late for that.

Soshiro’s teeth latched on your ear, tugging the lobe between those perfectly sharp incisors before a strained and quiet voice flowed inside. Despite the strain, he sounded amused—almost manic.

“That was naughty, little flower. Do you want to get caught?” he asked, and the very idea of one of your friends or colleagues turning their attention to the couch that only you two occupied made your cunt clench.

It was all the answer he needed.

His sharp inhale of breath was more audible this time, and you fought the urge to squirm against the hold that was tightening with every passing second. His arm was like a steel band around your waist, the voice that of a devil that was exhilarated by the circumstances he’d found himself in.

“Oh… it’s like that, is it? If only your colleagues knew how filthy you were being right now. Tsk tsk.” His tongue clicked softly against his teeth, a feigned admonishment that left your head falling back to his shoulder and your face pressed into his neck.

You inhaled the scent of skin, the salt mixed with something light and almost floral from his body wash. The temptation to lick a long strip from below his ear to the swell of his Adam’s apple was interrupted by his cock massaging against your front wall. The engorged tissue of your pleasure spot lit up your veins like fireworks, and only turned up the dial on the neediness pooling both in the pit of your stomach and between your sticky thighs.

He knew exactly how to make you melt, the merest flick of his wrist and the right intonation would see you putty in his hand. It should be annoying to be so easily read, but honestly, you appreciated the efforts he had gone to to learn you so intimately. Soshiro was a dedicated man, to his job and to you, it was heartwarming to feel so cared for, even when you found yourself in promiscuous situations such as these.

You knew that, had you been alone in here, you would be riding him to completion and to hell with the consequences. He knew it too and that only tightened your jaw, your molars grinding together as you tried your very best not to move another inch. The Vice-Captain might not be laughing but one quick peek into his eyes told you that he was barely holding back from doing just that.

Hushed conversation from your friends stole your -attention away from the shining humour in his violet eyes, cheeks burning hot as you glanced around the room but didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eye. The moment passed, action returning to the screen, and you exhaled a long-held sigh of relief.

Instead of smacking his chest like you wanted to do, you worked on steadying your breathing, grateful of the breathing techniques taught by the very organisation you worked for. You tried to ignore how every minuscule movement was ticking you closer to yelling to hell with it and bouncing on his dick until your eyes crossed and the band of tension in your belly snapped. You ignored the wet arousal that drooled from your cunt, clenching around his length behind your modest skirt, and you definitely didn’t think about the stains you were likely leaving on the front of his pants…

His fingers splayed beneath the hem of said skirt, rucking the fabric closer to your knee until his hand could disappear beneath. You grabbed up a cushion and pressed to your lap to hide whatever his intent was whilst your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. You almost moaned aloud at the grazing touch of his nail against your puffy lips, followed by the circular motion of his fingertips teasing your swollen clit. It was enough to make you bite your lip until the iron tang of blood hit your tongue.

Warm breath fanned your cheek, his lips so close to your ear that the sensation tickled down your spine.

“Make it through the movie, sweet girl. Then I promise I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight, okay?”

All you could do was nod. There were no words in your head, and quite frankly, you didn’t trust your voice not to give the game away completely. It was imperative you last, that you make it through this mission and receive your reward.

Soshiro smiled against your pulse, nipping playfully at the wildly erratic rhythm beneath the skin. God, he adored you so much.

“That’s it, sit still for me.”

[cherubfae]

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

|| The Price of Love || Alastor x Reader x Lucifer

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

[rowretro]

𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓪 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷?

✧warnings: idk

❁synopsis: You ask your boyfriend a question, seeing so many challenges on youtube, so.... he gave you quite an interesting response...

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

"Can I ask a questionnnnn?~" Y/n asked as Riki turned to her with a sweet smile "Go ahead" he says, already somewhat regretting his choice of words, wondering what kind of mischief she has up her sleeves. "Well... If I can only say yes for 24hours.... what will you make me do?" She asked. Riki then had a smug smirk tug at his lips, and now y/n was the one who was starting to regret her decisions.

Suddenly th man leans dangerously close into her face, lips only inches away, black hair somewhat decorating his forehead as he licked his lips as he eyed her. Y/n was beyond shocked, heat reaching her cheeks, a soft gasp escaping her lips when she feels his cold hands touch her bare waist. "Hmm... let me do your makeup-" He says as Y/n frowns, pushing her away "What no-" "But you can't say no-" Riki said with a pout.

"Keep still- I can't do your eyeliner if you keep moving-" Riki complained as the girl sighed, staying put. The way he was so slowly, and gently stroked the black liquid across her skin. Though it felt like it was going well, she knew he's a mischievous man. "Ok... all done- but I don't know how to do eyelashes-" he said as he showed her the mirror. It was perfect. "How'd you- oh my god this is so pretty?!" the girl said, in awe. "God babe you can't expect me to always pull pranks on you-" He said with a pout as Y/n stuck her eyelashes on.

"How do you know how to do my makeup?" Y/n asked as Riki just shrugged "I always see you do it or fix it, so I sort of just copied what you did-" he explained as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Cool... hey... You wanna head to the bar later?" Y/n asked with a smile as he stared at her. A bar means, no attention, drama, revealing outfits, and an INSANE amount of boys. "I have a better idea babe~" He says as he suddenly lifted her up.

"But- I wanted to-" "Shhhh" Riki cut her off, as he used the micellar water to clean off her makeup. The girl in her pyjama, and tucked into bed. "I just want to cuddle right now... I haven't gotten the time to get rest, and you practically never sleep" he explains, as he pat her face dry, slipped off his sweater and got under the blankets with her. Riki pulled her into his arms, her body warmth, radiating on his as he kissed her forehead.

"Babe... does lightning Mc Queen have car insurance or life insurance?" Y/n asked as she snuggled into his chest, her fingers fiddling softly with the duvet. "Both?" he answers as he snuggles her "okie.... if a fly-" The girl's question was then cut off by Riki's soft, plush, perfect lips, harshly attack hers. "Ok now it's time to sleep" He said , his voice conveying just how tired he is. Y/n pecked his lips, still shy, as she buried her face into his chest.

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

[eowynstwin]

confessional offerings

previous - neighbors - next

The neighbors lay their cards on the table. cw: dirty talk

“Hi, love,” he replies. “Where are you? Still at dinner?”

“No, we left. I’m in my hotel room.”

“Good,” John says. He feels his own expression go soft at the sound of your voice, which is sweet and gentle even across miles and distorted by the phone. “I missed you this morning.”

He hears you shift—imagines you laying in bed, in your pajamas after a shower, skin warm and hair still a little damp. He can almost feel it if he imagines it; the rhythm of your breath with his mouth against your neck, his open hands across the soft expanse of your stomach.

He’s never seen your bed, so he has to supply his own in his mind. The idea starts up an ache that’s been building all day.

“Me too,” you say, at a near-whisper. You sound painfully shy.

John smiles. He likes that shyness, likes that you give him the chance to draw you out of it. “You know, if you want to know why I like you, love, all you have to do is ask. I’d tell you if you did.”

You don’t respond for a moment. He doesn’t press. You like that he does that, he’s found, that he gives you time to think. John has no qualms doing that for you; he wants you to feel comfortable with him. 

Finally, in a small voice, “Why do you like me, John?”

“What a question,” he says, unable regardless to keep from teasing. “Where do I even start? You’re putting me on the spot, here.”

“John!” you whinge, and he laughs.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I like that you’re kind. You never have to spend time with me, but you do. And you’re smart, love, I like that a lot. You guessed I was bored without me saying anything, and did something to help me. I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m forcing you to read my books. Just so I can have something to talk about with you.”

“If that’s what you think forcing is, I’d like to see what happens when you really try to get something you want.”

You laugh, so he knows from that sound that you know your fear is a little ridiculous. Good—if you really thought that nonsense, you might leave him alone.  

“And I like the way you say my name,” he says, hearing the desire in his own voice. Will that sound scare you? He’s got to show it to you at some point. You need to know how easily you can get him going.

“How do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like it means something to you,” he says. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name, love. And no one says it the way you do.”

“Oh,” you say, small and soft.

“I want to hear you say it more often,” he continues.

“…John,” you say, and it hits him like a lightning strike. His cock throbs suddenly and near-painfully.

His voice lowers, roughens. “Just like that.”

You say it again, still shy, but on a breath that is clear in its arousal. “John.”

This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. He shifts his legs, tries to convince his growing erection to sit a little more comfortably against his thigh, but does not touch himself. He isn’t there with you, not yet. 

“I like that you give me that, love. You let me have so much. More than you know.”

“I always think that,” you say, passionately. “I never understand. I don’t know why things mean so much to you.”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “There isn’t a lot of…gentleness, or kindness, in my life. And you—that’s all you are. You give me more of it than I’ve ever had. I’m a man starved, and all you ever do is feed me.”

He wants to see your face so badly. He wants to see the little crease that shows up between your brows when you get emotional. He wants to hold you again, feel the weight of your body on his, learn your shape with his hands and mouth. He wants to say all of this, but he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” you say, with a little waver of humor. “You’d remember my cooking.”

John blinks, and then barks a laugh. “Oh, love. I want to devour you.”

You make a little noise, and yes, John is painfully hard now, able to feel the beat of his own blood in his cock against the tight crotch of his pants.

“Is…is that what you’d do?” you ask. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says, letting his voice sink deep into his chest. “For hours, if you’d let me. Sweet girl, I want to spoil you rotten.”

You make a humming sound, high and from the back of your throat. “I didn’t think men really liked that.”

“I’m going to find and kill whoever taught you that,” he promises. “There’s nothing I want more than to get my mouth on you, love.”

“Nothing?” you say, and he grins, recognizing a prompt when he hears one.

“You want me to tell you what else I’d like to do? How I’d like to have you on my cock, drag it out for as long as you can stand? I want you in my bedsheets, pretty girl, making a mess of them because I’m fucking you so good. I want you wrapped around me and holding on so tight, because that’s all you need to do. Because I’m taking care of everything, and all you need to do is take it.”

“John,” you say, shakily.

“Should I stop?”

“I—” you stammer, “I just don’t know how to respond, John. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell me how that sounds to you,” he purrs. “Be nice to know if you like the idea.”

“…I do,” you say, “a lot, John.” 

And he has to grin at the breathless way you say it. He knows you now—he knows how hard that must have been for you to say. He’s so goddamn proud of you for saying it.

Then, you continue, tentatively, bravely. “What else…what else would you do?”

“Mm. I had some thoughts about that vibrator.”

“No!” you cry, groaning long and disconsolate as he laughs. “No, I thought I’d gotten it, oh, John…”

“It was bright pink,” he says, needling you further.

“You didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, love. Were you thinking of me, that night?” he asks, breath shallow in his lungs. “Did you get off with that vibrator between your legs, imagining what I could be doing to you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, John.”

“Except it wasn’t very good, was it, love?” he continues. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted me there, wanted my hands and my mouth and my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you reply, and it sounds like a whine.

“You can have them,” he promises. “The moment you’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.”

You don’t respond immediately. He doesn’t think he’s pushed too far, this time; rather, he thinks with not a small amount of satisfaction, you might just be recognizing the scope of his offer. 

It’s a moment John always enjoys with potential partners—that quiet, trembling realization that yes, they can ask for anything from him, because he really will give it to them. Because they know that they can rely upon him, that they can trust him. That he wants nothing more than to be someone they can fall into, freed of worry or concern.

“I do want it, John,” you whisper into his ear. “All of it.”

Something uncoils in John’s chest. Appetite, yawning wide, swallowing your confession whole. His balls clench, hard. He wants to see the look on your face. Both when this finally happens—when you give in to him—and right now, as you’re realizing you can. 

John is not one to employ absolutes lightly; he wants to see you now more than he’s ever wanted to see anyone in his life.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, hearing a rasp in his voice. “Will you come to see me when you get home, then?”

“I—” you say, sounding breathless. “Yes. I will, John.”

“Good,” he says. “Now do something for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“I’m going to let you get back to your evening,” he says, adjusting his hips. “And when you lay down to sleep, I want you to think about me. Think about what I’ll do for you. Because I’ll be thinking about the exact same thing.”

“Yes, John,” you say. There’s a…floaty, far-off quality to your voice. It will not take John very long at all to finish tonight.

“Did you bring your vibrator along with you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Pity,” he says. “I guess we’ll both be using our hands, then.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Good night, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Good…good night, John.”

He says goodbye again, and ends the call. He lays his phone down and sits back, staring up at the ceiling. The football game is long over, some late night talk show playing now. He turns the TV off.

He’s not sure whether it’s going to be easier now to make it through the next two days—or much, much harder.

A/N: We're almost there.

[emilys-bangs]

Andromeda 50 perhaps?

Thank you for requesting <3 this is the prompt “I think you’re beautiful.”

Part of the 200 celebration

Word count: 0.9k

warning: mentions of blood and nosebleeds

The bathroom lights must be harsh on Emily’s eyes. You guess so, because she blinks rapidly, wetness lining her lash line and occasionally dipping outside her eyes, smearing her usually meticulous mascara.

The tissue she’s holding to her nose is already soaked through with red, so you grab another one and gently nudge her hand away. Emily tosses the sodden tissue in the trash, wincing when the fresh one nestles above her cupid’s bow even though you try your hardest to keep your touch light.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your stomach flipping with equal parts nausea and anger. Not at the blood, but at the way her face twists despite her best efforts, one of her hands clenched around the ceramic edge of the sink, her knuckles forming white stars beneath her skin.

And the anger, it rushes restlessly in time with your blood.

You hadn’t been there when the volatile suspect jumped at her in the interrogation room, his fist colliding with her nose because of her provocations. You had been with JJ, trying to calm the restless media that gathered around the precinct, hungry for the identity of the man that tormented their city for weeks. 

Now you only wish you could’ve been there, to repay him the favor yourself.

“S’okay,” Emily mumbles. She leans back against the counter even though you’ve told her to stay upright, but you let it slide. Her fingers take over, holding the tissue gingerly in place, and your own hand falls away.

You can feel her staring as you grab the ice pack you’d gotten her from a first aid kit and pop it, the heat of her gaze steady on your cheeks as cold spreads across your hands. You don’t shy away from her eyes as you gently hold the ice pack to the swollen bridge of her nose.

“Why are you staring?” 

Though it’s meant to sound light and teasing, it isn’t. Your voice is too hushed, your hands too tender as you carefully try to press the ice pack to the bruised skin under her eyes.

Emily finally drops her gaze as she lifts the tissue from her septum. This one is not as soaked with blood, but she still tosses it away and grabs another piece you’d torn out for her. 

“Jus’ waiting for you to run away.” She says, the words muffled into the tissue. Her voice is not the silken honey it usually is; it’s nasal, stuffy as if she’s sick, but it still twists your heart all the same.

“Why would I?” You ask quietly.

Emily’s eyes meet yours again and she shrugs, the fluorescent lights swirling in the depths of endless brown. “’m kinda scary to look at.”

The harsh lights overhead are unforgiving. Everything is thrown into sharp relief; Emily’s swollen nose, her runny mascara and the purple bruising creeping under her eyes. She’s pale from the blood loss, the blues and yellows and purples made all the more clear on her ashy face. There’s blood smeared on her fingertips, seeping through the tissue she’s holding to her nose. Her eyes, wide and hazy with pain, are a little bloodshot, red webbing through the white similarly to lightning.

Scary, the word echoes. Maybe to someone else. 

But not to you.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s immediately noticeable, the red that spreads across her cheeks. Pale skin turns pink and Emily hides again, her eyes leaving yours to latch onto something a lot more interesting on the floor.

“I think,” she mumbles, tossing the almost clean tissue into the trash, “that may be an unpopular opinion at this time.”

You shrug as you lift the ice pack from the bridge of her nose and set it back down on the counter. “I’ve never cared much about what people consider to be popular or unpopular.” Grabbing the last piece of tissue, you wet it and gently swipe the drying blood from the crevices around her nose. Red blooms on the tissue as you wipe her skin clean.

Emily’s breaths come harshly, fanning across your hand in hot clouds. You frown and stop, lifting your hand away.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She rasps. Her mouth drops open and she sucks in a breath, long and deep, “Just can’t breathe very well.”

You chew on your lip. “Do you want some paracetamol? I’ve got some in my bag.” Truthfully, you don’t even know what help it could do, but you feel almost jittery with the need to offer something.

Jerkily, Emily shakes her head. “I’m fine. Thanks. Uh, usually it takes a while b’fore I can breathe again.”

Your brow raises. “So this happened before, then?”

“Hmm.” She hums, the sound brief before she takes in another breath through her open mouth. Grabbing the ice pack from the counter, you slip it into your pocket and toss the soiled tissue away.

“Come on,” you grab her arm and gently get her to straighten. “It’s better if you sit down, don’t want you toppling over.”

A stuffy huff leaves her lips. “From a nosebleed?” Emily’s voice is teasing as she lets you drag her out of the bathroom. Your hand reaches down for hers and you tangle your fingers together, abruptly making her shut up.

“Yes,” you say, firm as you pull her down the hallway, “from a nosebleed. Got any objections?” You turn to face her.

Emily swallows and shakes her head. 

Yes, even like this she’s unbearably beautiful, a fierceness to her that is entirely at odds with the softness of her hand in yours. The blush on her cheeks still isn’t gone, and when she lightly squeezes your fingertips, you feel a similar one creep up your neck.

“None.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[puck-luck]

moving along | john marino

warnings: established relationship, general complaints about Jersey, minor brat!reader but it’s not part of the sex, untraditional sex in the sense that they do not have furniture, unprotected p in v, sex as means of resolving an argument i guess?, fingering (fem!receiving) (sometimes i wonder if i need to clarify that because i personally am not into fingering my man’s ass and i doubt it’ll ever make its way into my writing), reference to oral (m!receiving), eating come (so true) pairing: John Marino x fem!reader request: “Could I request John Marino smut where after he’s traded to the Devils from Pittsburgh his girl is upset about the move but when they get to New Jersey he decides the best way to handle the move is for them to christen the new apartment to make it feel like home?  Like literally no furniture has arrived yet and they’re already going at it.” wc: 2570

Pitt had been your home since John first signed his contract with the Penguins in the summer of 2019. You’d moved there with him because he asked, you two had curated a shared apartment space that you loved and considered your first real home as an adult. You were happy in Pittsburgh and John was happy with the Penguins. You hadn’t really known about the trade until it came, just ten days shy of the three year anniversary of Pitt becoming your home base, your foundation.

You knew that the NHL was a fickle business when John first joined. Injuries were abundant, trades happened more often than you thought they would, and at weird times. Hell, people lost their teeth all the time in hockey. It was a weird sport, but for three years you and John had made a place for yourself in Pitt. 

John had just signed a six year contract extension with the Penguins a year and a half ago– so, yeah, you were still in denial about leaving Pittsburgh. It just didn’t make sense and you couldn’t wrap your brain around it.

You had packed up in what seemed like lightning speed, ditched the town that you knew, and now you’re arriving in Jersey. You don’t know anyone or any places except your new apartment complex, your new home. 

You’re cranky because you’ve been in the car for six hours. Not because you hate New Jersey and everyone there for uprooting your life in a mere instant.

Obviously.

John has been a saint about the move and the trade. It’s not his first– since he was originally drafted with the Oilers, he’s been through this process before. The difference, as you’ve reminded him multiple times now, is that he never played with the Oilers. He was picked, but he went to college. Then, he went to Pitt. And Pitt, John, was home. Not New Jersey.

That’s the gist of the same argument you’ve been having with your boyfriend over the past week or so. It’s never escalated because John is patient with you and so great, but you’ve noticed the tick in his jaw when you huff and puff and tense up in his arms. You don’t want to be angry at him, of course you don’t, because you know that it’s not his fault he was traded. It’s just the way the cookie crumbles. However, his presence has been a reminder of the fact that you were so happy in Pennsylvania and you’ve been nothing but bitter about New Jersey.

And now, standing in your empty apartment with a frown on your face, John has reached his limit.

He sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck and one of your hands finds its way to his curls. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” John murmurs into your ear, another kiss adorning your neck.

You scrunch up your nose and side eye him. “Duh,” you reply. John knows that you two have been together long enough that you’d damn near follow him to the ends of the Earth, even if the end of the Earth is in New Jersey. 

Your response causes him to chuckle, kissing you again. He turns you in his arms and smiles down at you. 

You glare, pouting, but John can tell that you’re more upset than angry. It’s been a lot of change over the past few days, and even though you’ve been a little bit of a brat, your behavior has been justified. John’s heart clenches a bit when you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

It’s quite the sight– a sweet, long embrace between partners in their newest home.

At least, it’s sweet until John ruins it.

“I have an idea about how we can make this place feel a little more… homey,” John says. You know the lilt in his voice by heart, having been with him for years. 

Pulling away, you roll your eyes and making sure John sees, knowing exactly where this is headed. You play along anyway. “What’s your idea?”

John grins and whispers conspiratorially, “We need to christen the apartment. It’s not a home until it’s been christened.”

You hold back a laugh, but a smile slips through. “We don’t have a bed yet.”

“We don’t need a bed,” John says. He slides his hands down to your hips and walks forward, only stopping when your back hits the wall and he’s crowded into your space. His head dips down and he mouths over your jawline. “I can fuck you right here, against this wall.”

“Mmm, dreamy,” you quip, your hands smoothing over John’s shoulders. You tilt your head back so he has more access to your neck and he rewards you by sucking a hickey near your pulse point. “You really know how to woo a girl, Johnny.”

John’s hips press against yours and you can already feel him stirring in his pants, growing harder as he continues to suck bruises along your skin. His hands have found your waist and hold onto you desperately. His lips make their way to yours and you share a brief kiss before he pulls away. “Just want to make my girl feel better,” he says, blinking innocently at you with his beautiful brown eyes.

Oh, how you fall for those eyes over and over again.

You draw out a sigh, looking around the apartment. One of your hands returns to John’s curls and pets through them, making him wait for your response. John, patient as always, waits for your response with an attentive smile and a tiny tilt of his head. His eyes rake over your face, taking in all of the details. His thumb comes up to your chin, tilting your head up. He leans in for a kiss.

You offer your lips up willingly, letting him control the pace. When he pulls away, you relent. “I guess we can christen the apartment,” you faux-complain, like it’s a job to keep up with John and his libido. 

John growls, teeth finding your bottom lip. “Let’s see if I can convince you to be a little more enthusiastic,” he teases, sneaking his hands up your shirt and lifting it over your head. He tosses the fabric behind him. Out of sight, out of mind. 

You hadn’t worn a bra today, since all you had done was sit in the car all day, and John reaps the benefits of that fact almost immediately.

He latches onto your chest, licking over one of your nipples and pinching the other. You pull on his hair, arching your back away from the wall. Your mouth opens in a silent moan as you puff out your chest, chasing the sensation of his tongue swirling against the peak of your nipple. He switches sides, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

“Johnny,” you say, and he smiles against your skin. You bring him back up to your lips, groaning when his tongue finds its way into your mouth and makes contact with your own. 

He runs his fingers all over your body, cupping your breasts and tracing your sides. He takes a handful of your ass and squeezes, making you jump against him. His length is fully hard now, still pressing into your hips, and he breathes out a moan when you roll your hips, grinding against him. 

You tug at his t-shirt, a wrinkly old stained thing from college, and he pulls away from you just long enough to get the offending clothing over his head before reconnecting your lips.

Now, your hands are the ones roaming his body, mapping his details through feel alone. He’s always been lean, but his skin is warm against yours and he’s defined in all the right places. He’s also soft and solid and he moves with your hands, making sure you’re always touching him in some way. You place the flat of your palm against his stomach, and the other against his chest, and you can feel John’s heart beating underneath your touch.

John sinks to one knee, pulling your shorts down and kissing over your stomach as he does. He removes your shorts and your panties, leaving you bare against the wall. He holds you steady, completely unnecessarily but sweet nonetheless, helping you step out of the clothing. He kisses his way back up your body.

Pecking your lips, he runs a finger through your folds. “So wet,” he mumbles into your mouth, pride filling his tone. He brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, then traces his tongue over yours. You can just barely taste yourself and it makes your knees a little weak. 

You lean into him, pulling him close. John works his finger back into you, pumping it slowly into and out of your entrance. It’s barely enough contact, barely fulfillment, and it isn’t long until you beg John to add another finger.

You’re scrambling, holding his bicep with a vice grip as he hikes your leg up onto his hip to give himself more access. You’re fucking against his hand, chasing the feeling of the orgasm that’s just out of reach, and it makes your eyelids flutter shut.

You moan aloud when John crooks his fingers and traces the spongy spot inside of you, teasing it. When you open your eyes, you find his trained on your face, lips parted and eyes wide. He never gets tired of seeing you like this, seeing you come apart on his hand.

“Please,” you breath out, voice cracking. You know you can come anytime, whenever you’re ready, that you don’t need permission, but you need John to give you just a little more.

“Touch your clit for me, baby,” John replies, kissing just under your earlobe.

You reach around and pet over your bundle of nerves, the contact making you clench down on his fingers. John groans at the feeling, sagging against you. You’re trapped between the wall and his warm, solid, strong body. 

“Make yourself come,” John encourages, voice soft. “Wanna see you.”

A wanton whine rips from your throat as your climax overtakes you. You arch into John as much as you can and he brings his mouth to your nipple once again, sucking harshly as the waves of your orgasm overtake you. It elongates it, makes your mind reel with pleasure, and you’re shaking in John’s arms by the time you come down.

He kisses you until you’re on solid ground again, the hand that’s not covered in your come crading your face. The other hand pushes at his shorts until they’re low enough that he can kick them away, then he does the same with his boxers. John grinds against you, his cock twitching against your oversensitive folds, but not breaching your entrance just yet.

He rubs himself against you until you pull away from his kiss and blink up at him, eyes hazy. Both of your hands find his cheeks and you smile at him, a little dopey. He returns the smile, goofy and oh, so pretty before dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, rolling his hips forward again with a bite to his bottom lip.

You nod, a quiet “please” falling from your lips. Your arms loops around his neck again and John brings his hands to your thighs, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist.

“I’m gonna fuck you in every room of this apartment,” John promises, lining himself up with your entrance. You sink down on him as much as you can, as soon as his tip pushes into you. “Make you come over and over again, until you love our new home–” He thrusts his hips forward. “Just as much as you love me.”

“Impossible,” you reply. “Love you too much.”

John grins, a hand on your hip and the other bracing himself against the wall. “We’ll see.”

He drills into you, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the empty apartment. It seems to echo off the walls, surrounding you. John’s grunts and moans fill your ears, and your whimpers fill his. He bites your neck, then soothes the skin with a pass of his tongue, letting his saliva cool over your throat. It’s almost as satisfying as the weight of his hand would be.

He fills you so well, and he’s pent up, having been waiting to fuck you for hours. His favorite way to satisfy you, to make you content, is to fuck all of the negativity away and make it so your head is full of thoughts about him and the pleasure he’s giving you, nothing more and nothing less. The move was the perfect excuse to fuck you hard and fast and dirty, the way John knows you love.

As evidenced by your walls clenching down around him, the wet slick dripping from your cunt and gathering at the base of his cock. God, if he can get you to come before he does, he’ll have you lick it all off until his come paints the back of your throat.

Just the thought has him fucking you harder, faster. You’re barely able to make any noise because it’s just so good, and John relishes in the feeling of your fingernails digging into his back. Back in its favorite place, one of your hands pulls on his curls, grip so tight that his head has to follow. 

John brings both hands to the globes of your ass, leaning into you so that your back against the wall supports you both. He presses into you, fucking so deep that he swears he can feel the tip of his cock against your cervix with each thrust. 

You cry out, tensing against him as he fucks you through a second orgasm, your legs shaking around him. You’re breathless and despite the overstimulation, you’re still fucking down onto him, rolling your hips to meet every thrust. 

John ditches his other plan on a whim, burying his face in your neck and allowing his hips to stutter, his warm seed shooting off inside of you. You moan aloud at the feeling and John almost buckles, and would have if the wall behind you hadn’t been holding the both of you up. He catches his breath, his thrusts slowing as he continues to fuck his come deep inside of you, feeling the way your walls drag against his shaft. 

“So good,” you sigh as John lowers you to the floor.

He slips out of your warmth with a wince, his cock softening. His mouth waters as he watches the come slide down the inside of your thighs, a milky mixture of both of your releases.

You laugh a little at the feeling, dragging your hand over the skin to stop the flow and licking the liquid off your palm to clean yourself up. 

John groans at the sight. “Fuck, baby, don’t do that,” he complains. “I can’t go again yet.”

“Mmm,” you hum around your fingers, drawing them out of your mouth with a pop that has John wilting. You smile, sickly sweet and teasing. “Just like at home. Nice to see that a change of location doesn’t affect your refractory period.”

[antimatterz]

reverberating ruin

blade, seele, jing yuan, yanqing, dan heng (normal and imbibitor lunae separately), kafka x gn!reader

summary: how they react when you praise them after hitting high numbers of damage.

cw: self-aware au, just a short headcanon post

enyo's note: featuring my previous or current favorite dps characters. title is the achievement unlocked when you hit 300k damage. my dan heng favorism might show in this? tagging @hiraethsdesires <3

content under the cut | masterlist

blade

it was in a boss battle that blade suddenly struck the highest number you'd ever seen from him. as you yelped in surprise, he just looked at you weirdly, as if to ask, what's the matter?

you point at the screen, which adds to his confusion only more. did he do something wrong? he couldn't imagine; he served you as he was supposed to do as your main dps.

"bladie!" you exclaimed. "you– that was insane!"

insane? what was insane?

you gushed, "i thought this damage only existed in streamers' videos. you're the best!"

he would never admit it, but his immortal heart fluttered a little when your words of praise landed upon his ears.

"i just did what i'm supposed to do," blade huffed as he folded his arms and averted his gaze away from the screen.

he tried so hard to act unaffected but your words do something to him. his mindset is void of any positivity, so the feeling is quite foreign to blade. it had been ages since he last experienced something like that.

please praise this man more often!

seele

it was just a normal battle in the overworld. nothing special, no special buffs or whatsoever. as your opponents gathered afore you on the screen. seele pariently awaited her turn before she dashed off with her insanely fast attacks.

merely a single strike, but a huge number flew across the screen. your jaw dropped and you squeaked her name in delight. seele shot you a sideways glance but continued battle, and only when every foe is down, she asked you about it.

"you did a massive amount of damage!" you gleefully told her. "i'm so proud of you, seele!"

her purple gaze widened upon your words, and she opened her mouth to say something but words didn't come out; you severely caught her off-guard with your praise.

"it's nothing," she sputtered. "it's just my duty."

she actually got shy, not something that occured a lot.

acted indifferent but was quite happy with your praise.

jing yuan

in a boss battle, he was playfully showing off without making it known to you – but yes, occasionally he liked to show off just for you because he enjoyed the way you gushed over him.

accompanied by the lightning lord, he caused a huge number to fly across the screen, making you gasp in awe.

"aeons, jing yuan," you said. "you're so strong."

he put up a humble act, hiding his smile because he knew he was strong. regardless, he loved being told so by you, which is why he tried a little harder sometimes.

"only for you," he shot you a playful wink.

continued battle even more fiercely, and while he was fully aware of the high numbers he hit, he loved to hear you praise him for it.

it was kind of like a game to him.

getting praise as he effortlessly hit numbers with more digits than you were used to. what more could he wish for? notice the satisfied smile the sleepy general wore as he fought your battles.

yanqing

the boy always tried so hard for you, never satisfied with his peformance. always eager for battle, only to be disappointed with himself when he deemed his damage unworthy.

so when you suddenly let out a squeal after he one-shot an opponent he haltsled his movements mid-battle. he gazed at you through the screen curiously.

"what?" he asked.

"yanqing!" you giggled. "did you see that?"

"see what?" he inquired, not quite getting it.

"that was a bizarre hit! you literally one-shot that dude," you chimed. "thank you, you're amazing!"

"i–" the boy began, cheeks flushing red. "it's uh, it's nothing. i'm just fulfilling my duty."

"that doesn't make it any less cool," you countered. "i'm proud of you, yanqingie. you did well."

aeons, he was so happy, but tried to play it off coolly. but after your words of praise, he tried even harder and harder, now with newfound motivation.

please praise him more often, so that he could finally feel proud of himself as well!

dan heng

honestly, you weren't sure what to expect from a free character. that couldn't be too good, right?

but dan heng proved the opposite multiple times already with numbers that reached higher and higher.

until he suddenly hit a number so high that it had you yelp in surprise upon seeing it fly across your screen; was dan heng really capable of hitting such numbers? well, apparently he was, and you were delighted.

"dan heng!" you exclaimed. "did you see that?"

"i did," he calmly replied. "what's the matter?"

"that was an insane number!" you explained. "aeons, you're amazing."

at this point dan heng's cheeks flushed a little bit, but he tried to hide it. "it's simply because you gave me a good build."

you tried to praise him, but he turned it right back towards you. that wasn't part of the plan? you got a little flustered as well.

"i just got lucky while farming for relics," you shrugged it off. secretly you just put in a lot of extra effort because you liked him, but that was your little secret.

dan heng (imbibitor lunae)

you had been pre-farming for him for quite a while, mainly to have good relics ready for him. you managed to create a build you were quite proud of and as soon as he came home, you equipped them.

beforehand you had heard great things about imbibitor lunae, and you were eager to see him in action now that he was built and leveled.

well, he instantly hit amazing numbers right off the bat and it left you speechless. you simply squealed in pure glee because ??? you just got him and he already outdid all your previous dps characters in terms of damage.

"oh my god, you're awesome," you impulsively chimed with a little too much enthusiasm. you clasped your hands over your mouth but dan heng offered you a faint smile, amused by your happiness.

"i merely do what you expect me to do," he explained. "i don't deserve your words of praise, but i am grateful regardless."

"as long as you know that i'm super happy with you," you told him with a smile. "you're a gamechanger."

you already loved dan heng in his normal form, but in his vidhadyara form he was even more amazing – you instantly had a new favorite dps, and you would make sure that he knew how happy you were with him.

kafka

when you pulled for her, you never expected her to take on the role of a dps. but from the start she hit quite some large numbers, while you thought of her as only a debuffer.

well, jokes on you, this lady is strong.

equipped with both a gun and a sword, she took down opponents with ease, and you can't help but gush over every defeat. and she knew how you reacted, shooting you a coy grin often.

you didn't even have to voice your praise; it was all over your face, your entire demeanor. and it spurred her on to do even more damage.

"you're so–" you began, but she cut you off with a smile.

"i know, darling," she said coyly. "you simply make me want to my best. you're adorable, after all."

you tried to praise her, but she threw it right back at you and you ended up being quite flustered. but secretly she loved it when you spoke so highly of her.

it went so effortlessly. and aeons, did she look good while fighting. numbers flew across the screen, leaving you stunned. well, that's kafka for you.

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ cw ; fem!reader, reader is a soldier, referred to as wife (they are engaged), domestic bliss, sfw

✮ wc ; 613

✮ a/n ; takes place before this drabble but it can be read stand-alone lol.

"If I ask you something, General," You say, voice tender as it is kind "Will you answer me?"

"Is there any reason not to?"

Your General. Your...fiance, is a kind man. Though he's frivolous, and lazy and hard to read. He is kind, you think, at the very least. That aspect of his character astounds you. Otherwise serious and wise. Knowledgeable to the point his logic is hardened like a shield. The General who can wield lightning. Your General, a man of high on honor, who has chosen to wed you for reason you cannot grasp even now.

Who doesn't not disrespect even once. As Captain, as solider, as wife. Only mirth in his eyes, when he addresses. Always what looks like love. Kisses and touches and gestures that feel like it. It might be silly, to seek this kind of verbal affirmation.

Kind. Easygoing. Playfully mischievous. All of that, and you're still so terrified to ask him. You open your mouth, only to close it. Shying away from your own vulnerability, from the possibility of a no. How devastating would it be, you wonder, to learn that this had simply been a misunderstanding.

"Maybe you'd think so," You conclude, sitting on the edge of your shared bed "If you heard it, you may not want to."

"What sort of question could trouble you this much, my dear?" He says, voice bordering on bemused. You look at your lap. Have you ever been so afraid? It's unlike you. You've fought many wars, won many battles. Among them, you have not feared pain nor death.

Perhaps. Perhaps, because it is not those things that you find your heart pounding. The finality of death and the burden of physical pain start feeling trivial. All of it feels so bearable in comparison to the ugliness of love.

You don't think you've ever been in love before.

Not like this, at least. You don't want to ask if he loves you. Any answer is too troubling. Still, you wish to know.

"Do you...well, I don't know - do you l-love me? Is what you feel for me love?"

"Do I love you?" He repeats, and your heart hammers so hard it makes you sick. What kind of cowardice has infected you? "Mm...I don't know."

You stiffen. The tears prick instantly as you soften your voice.

"I see."

"Love is too weak of a word. Something closer to adoration, or devotion. I do love you, but it's more accurate to say I adore you. I'm solely devoted to you," He says conversationally, like he hasn't just scared you to death "Love is love. It's more stifling than that." Jing Yuan concludes.

You turn to look at him, tear-struck and irritated. And the bastard is grinning, all lazy grin and bright golden eyes.

"You're awful," You say, readying yourself to stand and leave. But Jing Yuan is faster as he catches you. Drags you by your arms, looping his around your waist as he lays you on top of him "Let me go."

"I'm tired." He says back, closing his eyes. You turn frustrated in his arms. "Let's sleep."

"Jing Yuan. I will throw you out of my room. You scared me half to death!"

He laughs at that, opening his eyes to peer at you.

"Were you scared I would say no? How silly." He says, kissing your forehead "What other answer could there be?

"Plenty of them." You counter. Frustrated, yet relieved. Enough to bury yourself in his chest. He soothes you with his hand, palm splayed on your back. He laughs.

"Maybe to you," He says, whimsically "But to me there could only ever be one."

[simply-trash5]

BNHA Boys as Different types of Light

So I found these different photos in a post on another sm site earlier and thought it would be a great way to talk about this wonderful group of idiots.

Izuku and Mirio are sunlight. You are drawn to their warmth easily. A simple smile or greeting is just like their sun’s rays peeking over the horizon. Being with them is often like the dawn of a new day; it holds hope and promise with the nostalgia of happy memories. It’s like a comfortable tshirt or your favorite movie. Basking in their glow is comforting and overall an easy loving feeling.

Bakugo is like lightning. It’s explosive and unpredictable, and almost always followed by a thunderous boom. He can cause damage in his wake but can also light up your world with such a light that is beautiful it’s hard to look away. Hold on tight because with him you never know what you may experience.

Sero and Denki are like street light. So these two remind you of a late night out when the world has gone to sleep, the buzz and feel of adrenaline on your skin. They are cheeky and mischievous, but have a glow that is warm and inviting like a summer with your friends. They feel like sneaking out and late night conversations—is it always a good thing? No, but it’s almost always fun.

Shoto is candlelight. He is books by a warm light, or spiced candle in the fall time. It’s the warm glow of someone who doesn’t know just how bright they shine. He is just the light you need in your life, even though he doesn’t realize it. He is a lingering touch of a hand on yours after a long day.

Kirishima is starlight. He lights up your entire life just like the night sky. He came into your life like a shooting star and shines brighter than any constellation. You can always count on him to brighten your day, and to keep you steady.

Tamaki is moonlight. He can be so shy sometimes that he will hide like the moon, but when he shines man is it bright. His light will cascade over you and you can bet his love will shine over you brighter than any light imaginable. This man will love you till his light goes out.

Shinsou is the northern lights. A rare love. He’s a different sort of guy, quiet and quirky. His quirkiness draws you in and your love for him is no match to any wall he tries to build. Because of this his love for you will shine bright and true.

I know this was weird and different but—here ya go!

My inbox and ask box are hella open and I would love to write something for you!

[2af-afterdark]

Lord of the Mountain

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Content: Malleus x afab!Yuu|Player (you/your), fantasy au, oral sex (Yuu recieving), Malleus is a dragon-man and we monster fuckers shall feed, yuu is shy, first times, yuu is a virgin, double dicks for our dragon✌️ A/N: Planned for this to be longer, but the spot I hit was cute sooo... Also, you know, real life is kicking me in the teeth right now Word Count: 912

Malleus – the fabled terrible lord of the mountain whose moods controlled the very weather and earth around him; whose happiness made crops grow plentiful and healthy and whose anger split the sky with lightning and thunder – held your knees apart to admire the space between your legs that you'd been trying to hide by closing them. His emerald eyes bore into you, a thousand questions dancing at the tip of his tongue but not one being asked as he concerned himself more with studying every inch of your beauty; the shape of your hips, the build of your frame, the swell of your breasts hidden behind the cup of your hands, the shyness on your face as you looked away from him, he etched all of you into his eyes and committed it to his very long-lived memory.

He intended for more senses than simply his sight to admire you. He buried his head between your legs, pressing his lips against your lower ones. His long, black tongue dragged through your wet folds, then effortlessly doubled back to get another taste of your chastity. 

He savored the flavor of your arousal, demonstrating the restraint of a saint so as to not ravish you entirely despite his desires. You were, at the end of the day, only human and he had to use a delicate hand when handling you or else you may just break beneath his claws. 

But when he glanced upward, you were not looking at him. Your eyes were turned away, while your lip was practically red from how fiercely you had been biting it to muffle your own voice. You were the perfect visage of nervousness and anxiety, but he intended to chase that expression away.

His hands slid beneath your buttocks, lifting your hips enough to lift them into the air and press firmly against his mouth so he could slip his tongue inside of you. The small, surprised gasp you made as he licked the sides of your inner walls threatened to test his patience. After all, you were a feast. So much so that he had to forcefully pull himself away before he devoured you whole.

Malleus pulled away from your dripping hole. “That should be enough to allow your body to accept me.”

“My lord,” you said with warm cheeks as you stared away from your own nudity, trying to ignore how your lower half burned and throbbed with want after what he had done, “I don't think there is a human alive who could welcome all of you.”

He didn't have a frame of reference to compare himself to a human male, but surely he wasn't that much larger. Not enough to be of concern at the very least.

He repositioned himself between your legs, sitting up so he could rest his hardness – both of them – against your mound. The hand holding your left leg open was replaced by a tail curling around your thigh so Malleus could press a spot on your lower stomach.

“They will only reach to here.”

Only.

As if the place he was touching wasn't a hair's breadth from your belly button. As if you were supposed to find it comforting as he brushed his fingers over that spot. As if you weren’t lying under a man – well, a dragon technically speaking – for the first time.

“My lord, that's still quite the feat.”

“Is it? It seems normal for a female dragon to take this much. Are humans different?”

“I wouldn't know, my lord.”

The corners of his mouth pulled slightly downward. “We've spoken about using titles and you’ve already uttered mine three times.”

You felt your face grow warm in shame and embarrassment as he pointed out your behavior. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to referring to you by name yet.”

“Even now?” He asked.

“Even now,” you confirmed.

“Shall we delay the ceremony until you're more comfortable?” He continued to ask, but the way his erections twitched against your entrance in anticipation told you that he was eager to proceed.

“No, my lord.” As nervous as a part of you was, you wanted the same thing deep down. “I'm ready and willing. Please allow me to officially be your bride.”

Bride was the term given to those residents – male or female, man or woman, old or young, rich or poor – of your village and many others nearby that were sent as a sacrifice to the lord of the mountain. When the fields were barren and the water ran dry, they were expected to throw themselves at the lord's mercy and convince him to grant prosperity to their families and neighbors. But you would be different than all his previous brides, because you would be the first one to truly be his mate – or, that was the term he used, at least, but it sounded so animalistic that you still chose to use the phrase you were more accustomed to.

As soon as he had your permission, you could feel something fat pressed against your entrance, already pushing its way inside.

An unease rose up in your stomach for what you knew would happen next. “M- my lord?”

“It's only one and I shall be gentle,” he promised as he leaned over you. He laid his palm against yours to lace his fingers with yours. “Tell me if you would like to stop.”

“I don't plan to,” you replied as you curled your fingers around his. “Please continue.”

[crow-mortis]

.//---------ch. 0 - in which the girl arrives on the gorkhon artemy/female oc fic -- read on ao3

She moved to the town on the Gorkhon river when she was only 12. 

Her mother had been of the Kin, and upon the woman’s sudden death, the relatives there were the last of her blood with want of a 12-year-old orphan girl. Her father had never been in the picture; her mother was a runaway from the steppe for many years before she was conceived. 

She arrived at the station with barely an idea of where she was or what was waiting for her there. The endless, grassy slopes of the Eastern Steppe stretched out and onward all around her; she followed it with her eyes until she could no longer see the end from the beginning – until everything melded into one, singular shape. 

She had shivered then, terrified at the remoteness of the Town, and how tiny she felt in comparison to the wilds around her. Despite the vastness of the hills and sky, she felt so very small; her body felt constrained, like she had been packed tightly into a box of her own grief and fear. The emotions closed in around her, threatening to choke the life from her throat. Her breathing hastened, her hands gripped tightly to the strap of her bag – a singular knapsack containing the few items she could call her own. 

She had been lost in that fear until a voice – male, young, maybe a few years shy of maturing – roused her from that small, dark place. Her green eyes had met with blue ones – held there for a long moment before a hand extended toward her with a sigh.

The Burakh family were of the steppe people, though no blood relation to her. She learned that her mother and Isidor had been children together, and he recounted vividly the day she left as he fed her a meager meal of rice porridge and bread. She listened to him talk as he peeled a boiled egg for her – she studied his hands and the delicate way he pulled each piece of the shell from the membrane; the precision of a menkhu – a healer versed in the traditions of the steppe.

Her mother’s family had perished in a fire within the district named the Crude Sprawl. It started with a lightning strike, and after the winds of the steppe snatched the embers into the air, multiple houses were engulfed in flames – all the Kin screamed in agony, their voices one in the darkness as the steppe took their homes.

Isidor finished with the egg as he finished the tale, slicing the white and yolk and placing it gently into her bowl of porridge – a period at the end of that story; the book on her family name snapped shut as she watched the porridge grow cold in her bowl. 

Isidor took her as a ward, opening his home to her and granting space for her in a small bedroom in the western end of the house. She learned the boy that found her at the station was called Artemy, and he was Isidor’s son. He was two years older and had dreams of being a surgeon – they didn’t speak much. Though, that wasn’t necessarily for lack of effort on Artemy’s part.

She spent the first few weeks in silence, her face a slate carved with grief. She took up a few of the household chores. Busying herself with tasks kept her from thinking – it kept her numb. She would do the washing. Sometimes she helped with the cooking, always the first to excuse herself but the last to leave the kitchen, absently scrubbing dinnerware until her fingers ached. Anything to not think about it – anything to remain empty.

Artemy tried many times to include her in conversation. Isidor did as well, despite being a rather quiet man himself. She had decided after the first few weeks that Artemy must favor his mother. Though Isidor’s smile lines, nose and brow were prominent on the young man’s face, the blue-gray of his eyes were distinctly other. She never saw a photograph of the woman, and she refused to ask about her.

Though, she could guess. Sometimes when Isidor saw Artemy smile and laugh at something, she could see the sadness tugging at his eyes, despite how he would gently chuckle as well. Artemy had said they were Kindred, though not Kin – they had both lost their mothers, and the quiet comfort in knowing that began to wear down the walls of her grief, even if only little by little.

One evening, after her fourth month within the Burakh household, she had blurted her name out to them – the taste of her own voice strange on her tongue as she recited the name her mother had given her. Violet.

Isidor Burakh, to his credit, did not crack a smile then, and had simply stared with his son, the two exchanging a glance in the silence that followed. She fixed her eyes on her plate of nearly-untouched food, waiting for laughter that never came. 

Isidor had simply inclined his head, slightly lifted his glass, and given a soft, “bide kharaan” – we see you.

Things felt lighter after that. The steppe began to feel like a friend and less like a foe. Artemy would lend her books and she would spend the small hours before the sun sank low reading in the shadow of the Crowstone. Sometimes she and Artemy would collect herbs together, the young man determined to make it a competition and always returning with a basket overflowing. 

She was introduced to his friends – Lara taking a specific interest in her – and the group would rarely be found one without the others in tow. 

She and Lara developed a friendship. Together they shared a love of books and their compassionate hands would heal the boys when they would get into trouble – Griff was always the catalyst, and he had taken to poking fun at the two girls frequently. Violet found a sliver of joy each time he would tense in pain as she dabbed salves on a scraped knee or bandaged a cut hand. 

Violet and Lara became the den mothers of the group, taking to calling each other by a nickname. Names were gifts in the town, and she had been nicknamed Birdie, which Lara always said was so much prettier than her own – Gravel.

Often they would read together in the steppe, and Violet found her voice in befriending Lara. She would read passages out loud as the other girl braided steppe flowers and herbs into her dark hair – the two would skip home, laughing and smelling of twyre and swevery. 

Though she hadn’t made a point of it, she began to learn the words and traditions of the Kin. They respected Isidor, and as a menkhu he was the only healer the people trusted. The man was the only healer the Town had as well, and a portion of the Burakh household served as a clinic. 

Artemy would help; Isidor would teach him to see the lines – the connections of all things. Violet would listen sometimes as he instructed. Lines represent the paths between things. The links that connect them. The laws that govern our lives. Between evil Sky and kind Earth is a Line. The veins of our lifeblood are Lines. A Line carries the inevitable retribution for evil deeds. Family ties, the way children reflect their parents… Those are Lines, too.

Artemy was smart, more than he realized. Violet would observe in silent awe as he navigated both the society of the Town, and the otherness of the Kin. He walked the line between the two much like his father did – In the way Isidor was loved and trusted, so too was Artemy. Though he was not a menkhu, the Kin would take his help and thank him with braided cords, talismans, and other handmade baubles. Artemy would accept them with the grace of a doctor - despite being a boy in his teens.

Before she realized, an entire year had flown by. Lara conspired with the other members of their gang to throw a surprise party for Violet. Artemy had asked her to accompany him to the station – he’d heard that twyre grew there sometimes out of season and he needed more for his father’s reserves. 

They arrived and found Griff, Lara, and Rubin already waiting for them; a blanket was spread over the stone of the station platform and decorated with various pies and bread and other confectionery that Violet had never even seen before. They had all yelled out a “Surprise!” and Violet had needed to blink away the burning of her eyes as Artemy tugged her down onto the blanket with the others. 

They ate, joked, and told stories over the previous year. As Violet looked out at the grassy steppe around them, she felt none of the fear or grief that had locked her voice away in that very spot one year prior. The warmth of the others as they bickered playfully, laughter floating along the breeze, made her feel lighter than air. 

Artemy had nudged her gently and shared a funny anecdote with the others about when he found her there. Violet chirped in with her own input, voice small in comparison but still jovial. They all laughed and Artemy leaned back on his hands, his fingers resting atop hers as he did so. 

They both glanced at them, then each other, before Artemy went headlong into another tale. He didn’t remove his hand, even when Griff pointed out his blush and snickered with Rubin about how much Artemy resembled a tomato. 

Something heavy had settled in her chest that day; the steppe no longer felt like a cage. As she walked back toward town with the others, the sun sinking low over the ridge, she had looked down at where Artemy’s hand still grasped hers and she felt more at home than she ever had.

Years flew by them in a blur; they all grew up, grew slowly apart as each of them took a place in the Town. Artemy’s hands felt nothing like they did that evening so many years before as she held them gently in her own at the station. 

The train whistle floated toward them, and she tried to ignore it – tried to focus on the curves of his fingers, the texture of the calluses there. He was avoiding her gaze, so she dropped her own to the stone beneath her feet. She knew what she wanted to say. It clawed at the back of her throat like a ravenous beast, sending scalding heat down where it settled in her stomach, threatening to make her sick. 

The seconds dragged, her heartbeat was a muffled thud in her skull as she tried to will herself to speak. Even when she felt the gust of wind and the heat of the brakes releasing as the train pulled into the station, she had no voice. Artemy gave her hand a slight squeeze, and her gaze snapped up to his – green eyes meeting blue.

For a single moment, the world fell away around them. For the briefest of seconds she was back at that station so many years ago; she was a girl, eyes too dry to cry anymore. He was a boy, eager to get back to his friends and their games, but too softhearted to leave her standing on that platform alone. 

She memorized the lines of his face; the way his eyes wrinkled in the corners when he gave a light smile. She traced the angles of his jaw with her eyes, eagerly committing every scratch and imperfection to memory. She wanted to remember him, as they were now, knowing that when this was over they would be changed, altered – other.

The vibration of his voice in the air shook her. She hadn’t caught what he said, his voice stolen by the wind and the whistle of the train. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and his gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. He paused, as if considering something, but thinking better of it. With a final squeeze, the warmth of his skin left her hands, the chill of the wind replacing it. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but the next sensation she remembered was a hand on her back, gently nudging her between her shoulder blades. 

“C’mon Birdie, you’ll catch your death out here.”

[chiriwritesstuff]

i stumbled upon those meet cute nyc tik toks where the guy asks random couples on the street how they met

PICTURE THIS:

Joel and Sugar walking around NY together maybe after some conference that they went to together. He’s got his protective hand on her lower back as she’s chatting away about some random interaction with a squirrel she had while waiting for him when he was in the toilet.

They get stopped by the guy and he’s like are you a couple and before she even processes the question Joel’s proudly proclaims” Yes, yes we are” and proceeds to tell their story (skipping the more nsfw stuff). Readers a bit camera shy but butts in every once in a while to correct him jokingly.

I just see Joel going like “this one did this” or “this one here had no idea what she was getting into” as you playfully pat his chest. I see this happening a few years after marriage so they do a shout-out to all the kids.

*bonus* the internet goes crazy for them in the comments.

*bonus two* it does the rounds a bit around sugars parents club and they get this glimpse into the life they’re no longer a part of (fuck them)

OH NONNIE. I love that TikTok account! I could totally see this happening with Joel and Sugar in the future, so let's flash forward a few years...

Meet Cute NYC - Joel and Sugar, from Austin, Texas

(Also, I had a BALL laughing at the thing with the squirrel and Joel being on the toilet!)

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3k

"… and then I asked its name, and the squirrel quirks its head at me and said, 'Well, I'm Bill!' and I was like, 'OH MY GOD, I know a Bill, and he's one of the best people I know-"

"Wait, Mami. Are you seriously telling me a squirrel introduced itself as Bill? … and all this happened while I was on the toilet?" Joel indulges you, a hearty laugh escaping as you both make your way to Gray's Papaya, Joel's sole request for accompanying you to the IT convention in New York. He guides you towards the wall of a building, noticing a man with a tiny microphone focused on both of you from the corner of his eye. Raising an eyebrow at the stranger, Joel positions you so that your conversation is shielded from prying ears.

"Hey, hey, are you guys a couple?!" The man with the tiny microphone shouts, waving at the both of you, his iPhone pointed forward, eager to capture any response.

Joel stops in his tracks, the hand that was on your lower back circling your waist as he pulls you into his side, a playful smile on his lips. "Yeah, this is my girl right here. Even the squirrels know it."

"Papi!" you squeak, burying your face into his chest. "That's private!"

The man laughs at that, a wide smile forming on his face. "Well, do you mind me asking how the both of you met?!"

"Well," Joel exhales, "Do you have time? because it's a doozy-"

"Oh, it was not-" you cut him off, playfully slapping his chest.

"… as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by my beautiful wife," he presses a kiss on your forehead, winking. "I actually met her in the mall back in Austin while she was being dragged against her will to go spend time with her mama."

You nod. "This is true."

"She was back home from college. You know, she was getting her Masters," he adds proudly, "… and she was the cutest fucking thing I've ever laid my eyes on. Absolutely fucking beautiful, she took my breath away," he gets a faraway look on his face, his eyes a little misty.

"Anyway, I had met her mother before, because I was gonna fix their roof that she managed to set on fire with an antenna she tried to mount, poor thing didn't realize that there was gonna be a lightning storm, her father was furious with her!"

"He was," you quip, blushing. "The whole side of the roof was just burnt to a crisp!"

"And what did you think of your husband then?"

"Well, I thought he was hot, and thought of myself as shameful, having impure thoughts about him right in the presence of my mother. Thought I should go to hell with him at the gates, waiting for me." You gush, blushing at the memory.

"So how did you guys get together?"

"Well, we met 15 years ago. She was too young for me at that point, and well, I was just getting my business out the door. We didn't see each other for ten years until I saw her mama at the same mall one day, and we got to talking… and my baby needed a job, and I needed an IT specialist… and I thought to myself, fuck, I've been biding my time, I will never get a chance again if I don't take this one, so I told her mama to have her call me. That was five years ago."

"I used to go to these Sunday dinners at my parent's house, and my mama goes on and on about how she's seen Joseph or James at the mall-"

"That's what she called me?!" Joel exclaims, shocked.

"Yeah! So I go and tell her, 'I think his name's-', playing like it wasn't the best thing that's ever come out of her mouth. She told me that the job was basically mine and that I should wear some heels and a skirt to meet him-"

"God, that was the best fucking gift-"

You giggle, holding Joel tighter. "Anyway, I got the job, and apparently, my husband was completely technology inept, didn't know the difference between a printer and a copy machine-"

"Hey!" Joel exclaims, shaking his head and chuckling.

"… and then one night, he emailed me at midnight about some crisis he was having about pop-ups," you laugh, clutching at your middle. "… and while I was fixing his computer at one in the morning, well, I stumbled upon a bucket list of his, and the rest was history."

The host laughs. "What kind of bucket list was it?"

"Oh, well, let's just say-"

"It was one I made with her in mind," Joel cuts you off, blushing. "I figured, these were the things I would do with her if she gave me a chance again, and she did, after confronting me about it."

"I did, and I'm glad that fate connected us one more," you muse. "… because now, we're happily married and are taking our first trip together without our kids, and it's been a blast!"

"Hi Amie, Hi Bruno!" Joel interjects, waving to the camera. "I hope your older sisters are not losing their minds watching you both!" he winces at the camera, knowing damn well that they're probably up to no good. "Sorry Sarah and Ellie, promise to bring you guys back something good!"

"So what brings you guys to New York?"

"Well, my baby here was a speaker at an IT convention, held a panel and everything!" Joel gushes, pushing you forward slightly towards the camera. "I'm just here for the ride, as her proud husband!"

"Oh Papi, stop!" you exclaim, smiling widely. "It was nothing, really."

"Don't sell yourself short like that, baby!" Joel chides, "You fucking killed it, I was so fucking proud of her! She's not one for public speaking, but her panel was sold out! all 200 seats!"

"So what's your favorite thing about one another?"

"I love everything about him," you reply honestly, locking eyes with Joel as he hugs you. "I love how persistent and driven he is, how he takes charge and makes sure that everyone he loves is taken care of."

"I love her soul," Joel smiles back at you, caressing your cheek. "She does these things that might seem weird to people but is the most endearing shit to me. Like just right now, she was having a chat with Bill the squirrel-"

"BABY!" you scream, hiding your face in his chest. "That didn't happen," you mumble into the fabric, clearly embarrassed.

"One last question: Five years married, four kids, what's the secret to a successful marriage?"

"You lose the girl for a bit, make a shit ton of money, become a millionaire, and tell your asshole in-laws to suck a dick!" Joel exclaims, laughing. "Sorry, baby," he adds, putting his arm around your shoulder as he leads you away.

"What's your guys' names?" the host yells after you. Joel turns around once more, smiling into the iPhone.

With a wink, he yells, "Joel and Sugar Miller!"

Comments 10.5K mami94794: OMG GOALS ConnieBaby: YOU GUYS THAT'S MY BOSS! Hit me up, I have all of the tea… Reply (109): GIVE ME THE TEA, GIRL! girldad808: wow 10 years of waiting my god the kitty must be good! S.Miller: DAD??? EllieBellie123: You guys better be getting me something good! Bruno drew something on my ukelele! ohheythere5478734: Damn where can I find me a rich ol daddy out on these streets?!?

Meanwhile, at the Austin County Country Club…

"Have you seen that video that went viral on the news?" your mother's friend says as she sips her Old Fashion, her eyebrows quirked conspiratorily.

"What video?" your mother asks.

"The one of your son-in-law, telling the world for you and your husband to suck a dick," she laughs, giving your mother a smirk. "I'm assuming that's why you didn't know they got hitched in Hawaii all those years ago? How embarrassing is it to be called out by someone on the Fortune 500 list, huh?"

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  TO THE KEY OF EVERGREEN

SUMMARY : while dean dreams of things he’s too shy to share, the reader takes matters into her own hands when dean’s deep in sleep dreaming of something else. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : two nameless tentacle aliens

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, angst, tentacle kink, p in v, unprotected sex, somnophilia, description of dpdr

WORD COUNT : 3.4k

A/N : the devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — somnophilia. I’ve always wanted to write a tentacle fic for my favourite boy, dean winchester. reader pov then Dean’s dream pov switch by dividers. I swear more in my writing than I do irl, expect me to never curse irl honestly 😣😔

Dean was absolutely fucking adorable. 

He looked stunning, he always did, especially as he slept. 

Relaxed. Peaceful. Comfortable. Safe.

The moonlight poured into the cabin from the window, lightning up the breathtaking features of his face. Her most favourite parts of Dean’s body and face were illuminated by pale moonshine, enhancing his beauty. 

His plump, pink lips were parted slightly. Soft mumbles and quiet sighs fill the silence of the dark room as they slip from between slightly chapped lips. He snored occasionally, too—the cutest snores she’s ever heard. They made her laugh, but she pursed her lips to silence the sound, a loving smile remained on her face, her eyes tender as she beheld her sleeping lover. 

Although she couldn’t sleep, the sound vibrating through him had nothing to do with it. 

She knew he generally did not like to be stared at when he slept. To Dean, the worst was the thought of Chuck’s presence lingering and scrutinising. He wasn’t a threat anymore, but the thought that they’d lost haunted her—the possibility that everything was a dream. Unreality. The final torture. 

It couldn’t be. Cas was safe. Sam was safe. The whole world was safe. And now it’s just Dean and her waiting in a cosy cabin for the rest of their family and friends to get there when Christmas did, too. 

She wants him to be happy. He deserved that after everything that’s happened. She thinks he deserves it more than anyone else in the entire universe. Even if he’d sacrifice himself for the happiness of everyone else, she’d sacrifice everyone else for the happiness of a single man. 

She’d do it in half a heartbeat, even if that’s the last thing he’d ever ask of her. 

She had to admit it was strange to just stare at Dean as he lay unconscious in their bed, but she was bored and entirely in love with him. But mostly, she couldn’t sleep. 

She leaned over to press her lips against Dean’s forehead, placing a lingering kiss to the faint wrinkles she adored to cement herself to reality. She moved away to nuzzle her nose sweetly into his hairline, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, then she brushed her fingers against his stubble. The prickly hairs tickled, but it was nice to feel all those things, to see him in bed, breathing, sleeping. His warmth kept the cold at bay, even as he laid naked beneath two downy blankets.

Finally, they were free from the cold concrete walls of the Bunker. At least temporarily. A breath of fresh air somewhere new. Just the two of them. Close to Bobby’s old—now destroyed—place. Slowly weaning off the comfort of the Bunker as home to truly move forward, and hopefully to retire. 

Dean began to sleep deeply now. Knocked out cold by the effect of melatonin tea. He told her that he dreamt more and that it wasn’t nightmares anymore, not always. She didn’t know if he was lying to make her feel better and ease her disconcertment, but she didn’t push it. If he wanted her to help, he’d go to her and tell her when he feels ready.  

One part of her regrets not drinking the tea with him. But the other part of her knows it’s too frightening, the sensation of sedation, the feeling of unreality. It took her breath away, like being slammed into a wall, a sensation that made her want to scream, run, and cry. A feeling that almost confirmed that everything was in fact a dream. 

Instead of dwelling on her doubts, she waited for sleep to blanket her. 

Maybe watching Dean wouldn’t lull her to sleep. Maybe, but it didn’t stop her. 

His eyes moved beneath closed lids, his long, thick lashes rested against his freckled cheekbones, curled upwards with eyebags faintly defined beneath them. 

Where to begin? Honestly. The now relaxed space between his brows? 

The lovely crinkles that stretched beside his eyes even when he wasn’t smiling or laughing?  

The curve of his nose? The handsomeness of the shape despite the slight crookedness of it near the top? The slight upturn of it that most people would draw onto their faces to feign they had it?

The splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks like sprinkles on cake? The way they frosted over his forehead, down his neck, over every inch of his exquisite body like the whole universe when looking through the James Webb Telescope? 

Maybe the curve of his mouth? His pillowy, pink, slightly chapped kissable lips? The dip above his cupid’s bow? 

The patch of hair below his lip? The stubble that he was letting grow longer and longer? 

The line of his jawline? The little pillow of skin beneath?

The darker freckles that stood out?

Now that she’s taking him in. Why were his ears pretty, too? 

She wanted to kiss him so bad. To touch him. 

Her heartbeat began to elevate and her body became hot. She squeezed her hands together tightly to resist caressing him and turned onto her side, sliding her bare leg against his. If she could just pour herself over his entire body like warm caramel on his favourite pie, she’d be happy.

A moan rumbled deep through him and her brows flew up. She waited for more as he shoved the two blankets down to his hips, his fingers gripping the cowboy-themed blankets tightly. For a few moments, she held her breath, waiting for a nightmare to wake him while her blood turned cold, making her shiver. 

Instead, he turned silent and looked away from her, lifting his other arm over the pillow. 

She breathed out slowly and relaxed, dropping a soothing kiss on his bare shoulder. 

She bit her lip the longer she stared at his now exposed torso. He really hid all his sexiness beneath a million layers of jackets, Henleys, plaid, and flannel. It made her smile in amusement. He was way too pretty, way too hot, way, way too alluring.

He wasn’t very hairy and whatever hair he did have was too light. He had no chest hair. No happy trail… She never found that attractive anyway. Although, now that she thought about it, she wondered if she’d feel differently if he did have it… Probably not, it’s Dean. He even managed to change her mind about beards as he began growing his own in secret (a secret from Sam).

She envied his body. Who wouldn’t? He ate so much, it was adorable, but none of it showed. Maybe it was the combination of his metabolism and all the hunting. He’s definitely beefier than before. It might be ageing that changed his body from slim, model-like to this thick, lumberjack. Very sexy. Good job, body. Goddamn, he’s aged so damn fine. Whatever it was it kept him taut and toned, fit.

She licked her lips, staring from the tattoo beneath his collarbone to his hip bones, the dip of them on each side reminding her that he was completely naked beneath the fluffy covers. She felt guilty. Dean was usually the one who would touch her between her legs as she slept, or had his face buried between her legs to wake her with an orgasm, a few times he’s actually been fucking her. 

He’d smirk down at her when she woke up, kissing her passionately as she sobered from her sleepy state. She’d cling to him as he pounded her into the mattress, her orgasm came faster than she cared to admit. It’s never been off the table, but it’s usually him that proposes and suggests for her. 

Would he mind if it was the other way ‘round?

Dean ran through unfamiliar metal hallways.

Fucking hell. Was the hallway getting longer or was he running too damn slow? 

Dumbass nightmare logic didn’t stop Dean from running as fast as he could. He wasn’t tired, but slowly, as Dean realised he was only dreaming, he was able to get out of the hallway which then turned into a red console room.

Yup, he’s in a stupid dream. 

He grunted out in annoyance, looking around for something to use as a weapon.

A loud bang from the door he just came through—well, it wasn’t a door at first, but it is now—made Dean jump. He looked around the room and stepped towards the console as the lights stopped flashing red. He thought he could make sense of the made-up letters, but as the door was smashed in, Dean reached for a random baton with a lit edge at the tip of the colour violet.

Large, jet-black, shiny tentacles held the inside of the room from the doorway and Dean exhaled slowly, backing up slowly as the monster teased his entrance into Dean’s dream. As Dean hit the wall, he gasped when he started to fall through.

For a few moments, Dean waited for death and did what he thought was closing his eyes in his dreams, only to land gracefully on his two feet—painlessly. 

He relaxed as he looked around the white, padded room, seeing bright panels displaying images and videos he couldn’t quite comprehend. He stopped his analysis of the panels when he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned to face the woman he loved most, coming from a stairway he never saw in the first place with one of those weird tentacle aliens behind her. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t inside the padded room, instead he was outside. The outside of a place that was definitely not Earth. The grass was still green, but there were a million colourful caterpillars beneath his feet and a cliffside beside him. The sky looked like the ocean, blue and green-like waves, misty clouds were violet, like the surface of Jupiter.

“Dean,” she called him again, but she was also the alien at the same time. It was too confusing, when she touched him, she was soft and human. And now, the spaceship he was in was long forgotten as she appeared to him naked. 

It happened too quickly, now he was on his back and she was kissing his neck and his chest. Her mouth sucked kisses into his skin, licking his nipples making him shudder. He could feel how hard he was, he knew her hand was wrapped around his cock, that he was naked, too. But the pleasure was too far away, faint like perfume on stored clothes.

Why did his wet dreams never allow him to feel full pleasure?

She wasn’t kissing the taut flesh between the v-shape pointing down to his cock, she had her lips wrapped around the tip, sucking wantonly, positioning herself so could take him deeper into her mouth, taking his cock down her throat. 

She pulled away from him abruptly and he watched her move away, as he sat up. Now, he was on top of the cliff and instead of caterpillars, there were colourful baby chickens that climbed into his lap. 

Why couldn’t he ever finish in his dream?

He groaned and whined out her name, but all of that was merely a distraction because he was on a ship again. A different one that looked like the TARDIS, but also, it wasn’t the TARDIS at all. Beaceuse where the console should be, there was a table, and she was splayed over it. 

Those black, glistening tentacles made a return and Dean cursed his stupid kink for making him both aroused and afraid. She was partially in the ‘arms’ of the alien, its tentacles slathered a clear substance over her body, hotly sucking red marks against her skin.

Her moans captivated him, the tentacles moved around her breasts, fondling, sucking. They moved all over her, teasing her weeping folds obscenely, parting her labia with the tips of two tentacles in exploration of her body. Then, one suction latched to her clit and she moaned his name, begging for him to join her and the curious, lewd alien. 

Dean whined quietly, stepping closer to the table as the second tentacle temptingly circled her entrance before plunging only the tip of the tentacle in and out teasingly. The wet sound drove him crazy. She reached behind her to ground herself using the alien, except Dean’s brain couldn’t complete its image so he didn’t really know what it actually looked like.

All he felt were tentacles move over him, too. Just like they did to her, they slathered him in something warm and sticky. They tried the same thing as they had with her, wrapping around his chest, sucking his nipples, wrapping around his throat to suck at his pulse in the exact same way she always did. 

When the slimy arms began to explore between his legs, Dean shut his thighs bashfully. But the alien pried them open again and he was being pushed forward towards his girlfriend as she got fucked by the other alien. The suctioning sensation as the tentacle curiously experimented with motions of up and down along his erect cock felt more real now. 

This is the weirdest foursome he’d ever been a part of. He can definitely say he’s never been fucked by unidentifiable aliens in his life, especially ones that didn’t have genitilia save for the phallic-like pitch-black arms that slithered into her and wrapped around his cock.

Could it be considered a foursome if the aliens weren’t getting any pleasure?

This was probably gonna be part of Dean’s top-ten favourite wet dreams. 

Dean woke up with a gasp, groaning softly as warm breath tickled his lips. He blinked to clear his bleary vision and moaned in annoyance as the bed beneath him moved. He tried to get a clear view of the disruptor of his most awesome dream and put his entire palm on the face of his girlfriend who was on top of him.

“Dean,” she laughed, moving his hand away to place it on her breast. He moaned softly again as he felt a familiar pressure between his legs, deep in his tummy the discomfort of an edged orgasm sobered him and squeezed her breast roughly. “What were you dreaming of?” She murmured seductively.

He was fully awake now, Dean blinked a few times and inhaled sharply when he saw his naked lover grinding her hips sensually in circles, her legs spread far apart, her strong thighs lifting her upwards just a few inches so he could see his wet cock disappear inside her.  

“Holy… fuck,” Dean drew out with a moan, clinging to her hips instantly. “I’m not gonna last,” he gasped, throwing his head back into the pillow. Nonetheless, Dean attempted to hold back. She knew he was as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, sending sparks of painful pleasure through her body.

“Oh, shit… Dean,” she moaned, her pussy tightening around him as he throbbed inside her. He growled softly, squirming. She refused to lift herself up any higher, but it felt good anyway, and she looked far better than she did in his dream.

With her back arched, her brows furrowed in concentration of her pleasure, and her lips parted to release quick, short breathes, and praises—occasionally, out tumbled a few teasing words. It just felt so good every time, the way he stretched her so deliciously, the way she got his cock to brush repeatedly over the same spot inside her, and how each roll of her hips made her clit brush and rub over his pubic bone. 

“Come, then, if you’re that fucking needy,” she teased, arching her back as she dug her fingernails into his chest. 

Dean bucked his hips upwards and clamped his hand around her hips so tightly she couldn’t move. A tingle moved up his spine and made him shiver. He wanted to hold back and wait for her, but she felt so hot and wet around him. His orgasm felt different than before, but still marvellous. While he spilled into her, she ground her hips down against him to stimulate her clit, bouncing again slightly when he loosened his grip on her to ride out his orgasm with a loud groan of her name. 

As she finally orgasmed, he began to whimper from oversensitivity, but let her use him as she finished, the walls of her vagina squeezing and pulsing around him. A breathless laugh tumbled from between her parted lips and she leaned forward to drop her forehead to his shoulder.

He pressed kisses along her hair, the soft strands tickling his nose as he nuzzled into the fruit-flower scent of her shampoo. His fingers slipped into her hair, tousling what was already messy to tug gently, bringing her swollen lips to his for a hungry and grateful kiss. She moaned against his mouth, both of their lips parting for their tongues to explore and lick, tasting each other once more—as if for the first time.

Saliva connected their lips when she pulled away with a smirk, his fingers carefully untangling from her hair. He panted and stared at her with his lips still parted, “what were you dreaming of?” She inquired once more, slowly lifting herself from his cock. His eyes flickered downward, watching his limp cock lean against her thigh before falling between his legs, coated in her cum, both creamy and clear. Droplets of his cum dribbled down her thighs like melting whipped him and he inhaled deeply, staring with wonder as more of their mixed cum slipped from her slippery folds.

“Hey, sexy, answer me,” she jabbed, dropping down next to him, letting herself bounce over the mattress before scooting into his opening arms. She kicked the covered upwards until she could reach with her hands and pulled it up their naked bodies.

“Uh,” he mumbled thoughtfully, laughing while wrapping his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to kiss her temple. “Aliens, tentacles, a foursome,” he confessed, brushing his fingertips up and down her shoulder.

“Real hot,” she murmured, placing her hand over his chest where his heart was beating. “We should bond over your porn again,” she suggested sleepily, tangling her legs with his again. He laughed again, then brought his hand over to her breast to play with her nipple, rubbing, pinching, tugging her sensitive nub. 

“You got mad at me the first hundred times,” he reminded her, playfully squeezing her breast.

“Well,” she started, “that was then… and now, I think differently.” He hummed deeply, closing his eyes, then he sleepily turned to his side with her still in his arms. “Like… maybe… I won’t be jealous because those are fantasies. I know the women you go for in the real world have always been nothing like the unrealistic, skinny, big titty, models with photoshop, surgery, pink everything, an-”

“I mean… you have nice tits, a juicy ass, pretty pussy-”

“No,” she laughed, “you just like me alot.”

“I love you,” he whispered, shutting her up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can ‘bond’ over it for fun, but I haven't gotten off on any of it since I met you… well, I have, but only because I miss you, and I want to do it to you, or watch you do it to me-the point is… yeah, they’re fantasies. I don’t wanna indulge in it because I’ve got the real thing. Maybe I'll look something up for ideas, but not because I need something to get off.” 

“No, yeah, I know that,” she murmured, tucking her head under his chin. “That’s not what I meant,” she laughed softly. “I just want you to know that nothing you’re into will make me… less into you.” 

“Think I don’t know that already?” He asked with a grin. “You’ve been with me for years now. I know…” He paused, hesitating suddenly, insecurity gripping his heart. “I hope you won’t leave… all things considered, you’ve seen parts of me I never woulda shown anyone. Had you not been in my life all this time, I’d be single right now.”

She pulled her head out from where it was to look straight at him, then she laughed. “Tragic.” 

He laughed with her and kissed her quickly, his eyes crinkling lovingly as he gazed down at her to tell her: “I’d rather be single than without you.” He licked his bottom lip charmingly, tasting the words on his tongue as he sucked on his pillowy lips before slowly releasing it, leaving it wet, pinker, and more tender. “And, uh… do this more in the future...” 

She giggled and threw her arm around his shoulder to bring him in for a tender kiss.

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[noroi1000]

Hello Noroi ! I’m the anon who requested vengeful love. it was amazing i loved it. i hope you’re doing well. Could i get a gojo oneshot where it’s like biker!gojo and a part time model reader who’s very famous in the campus. so like they’re in university. so the main plot could be fake dating w gojo but then it’s kinda different where gojo falls first but harder too lmao ? yeah. but yeah no smut really needed BUUUUT you could add suggestive flirty moments where gojo is the shy one :P. ( sorry i’m a virgin bitchless gojo preacher forever ) also for attitude of reader it can be similar to the reader in vengeful love but more extroverted/outgoing and a little mean in a playful/harmless way. Yeah that’s all ig

Have a good day Noroi 🌻 lots of love ur way

Popular boy who looks at you

Summary: There was this one popular boy who suggested you go out fake. But for as long as you can remember, you've seen the way he looks at you. How he gets distracted around you. Because this "playboy" isn't really one.

You remember these people's words from the beginning of school. "Gojo Satoru is looking at you!"

Who exactly was Gojo Satoru?

He was that popular boy at school who had been keeping an eye on you since your first day here.

Your friends squealed when they saw him. They bought magazines with his photos.

A man who has a part-time job as a model. And not just any model... The model of the largest companies!

He is a student at the same university. As far as you know, his family is rich. He drives his own motorbike wherever he likes. This dark blue bike with purple lightning bolts on the side. All you had to do was walk past this bike and you felt like you were standing next to a beast. Two large motorbikes standing next to each other, and no one will even dare to go there and touch the expensive vehicles. Blue and purple and black and gold with a dragon. Didn't they, some friends, become a bard?

You and your best friend only had the same key chains on your bags.

To be honest, you weren't the queen of the school. But people respected you and liked you. That was the most important thing.

But since blue eyes are constantly focused on you, you make other girls jealous.

Gojo Satoru who often bumps into someone because he is looking at you and not the road in front of him.

Gojo Satoru who even hit a pole in his path because he was watching you talking to your friends.

But why should you care about some high school playboy who supposedly "has had so many girlfriends that their number is greater than the number of students at your university?"

Oh yes, you could believe it, but you weren't entirely sure. After all, he talked about how he had so many relationships.

Even though there were school speculations that he was lying.

However, there was one thing that became true.

That popular boy who had been looking at you for so long, he asked you if you could be his fake girlfriend.

Your brain was like "wtf?!" But your friend has decided. She convinced you to do it.

And you became the fake girlfriend of the most popular boy in school.

His reason was that his parents wanted him to have a girlfriend who didn't just want his money. You were nice, and he didn't think you were. Plus, you weren't empty like the others.

And his parents... They believed in your relationship! They were so happy! It was so nice to see the smile of the woman who was his mother. But there was doubt in you. Because at some point your fake relationship has to end.

He knows you and you know him. This was for you the most important thing. You could keep this game going as long as you need. But you're tired of playing his girlfriend.

Even though he looks at you with that look, he avoids it when you return the look. He turns away from you.

Is he bored with this game?

Even better for you. You won't have to worry about him, you'll just find a boy who will truly love you!

Can a person who plays badboy and playboy really fall in love with you? You didn't want to hurt his mother who was happy about your 'relationship'...

But unfortunately, on the day you wanted to end it, or even tell his parents the truth, you didn't have the heart to do it.

Because before you could do anything, your heart clenched as you learned the truth about Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru, the playboy from school. A model, someone who often even causes trouble. There were rumors that he would be a good fit for the mafia. Despite this, he had exemplary grades and excelled in exam results.

But in reality, Gojo Satoru is a boy who can flirt, but he is a loner by nature.

You learned everything from his mother.

After all, you are his 'girlfriend'.

Since he was born he has been a special child. But he had to grow up fast. His childish behavior is manifested by the fact that he began to play like a child at an older age. Addicted to sweets... He didn't like people who assumed they were weak right away. Everything he does works for him. His appearance is the reason that he became a model to start doing something. Slowly he was on the covers of magazines. He seems very confident, and he is. However, there was never anyone in his heart. He only has one friend who really understands him. There are no people who understand him. Because the world (physical and mental) he lives in makes it impossible for them to keep up with him.

However, his mother saw the change.

There is no longer Satoru whose smile is unwavering. He most often embarrassed someone. He was having fun, irritating someone, teasing someone. Always without a changeable smile. Gojo Satoru knew no fear. He didn't care what people thought of him. He only cared that he was a person who was different from everyone else and no one could threaten him.

Well, it was true. He was the best at everything...

Even though you weren't afraid of him, you felt small next to him. Just because he's tall and muscular.

And then you found out something that made you giggle or be surprised.

He never had a girl to bring home...

And he...

"Gojo Satoru is a Virgin?!" your friend screamed, almost choking on her drink.

He put a finger to his lips to silence her and looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening to you.

You're not cruel enough to spread rumors about your private life. Everyone thinks you're together.

"Shh! Maybe it's funny, but keep it to yourself! I do not know if it's true!"

If it were true, you could laugh at him just like when he laughed at you for feeling embarrassed to kiss him at school...

But then you got angry and you pulled his clothes to kiss him passionately.

So what if people were watching? You kissed him so suddenly to spite him. To at least try to embarrass him. And when you pulled away, you didn't see much of a change in his face. But it looked like he was holding something back. And his ears were pink...

Earlier you wondered why he left so quickly...

Isn't he embarrassed to kiss someone and be dominant, and when someone dominates him in a kiss, he suddenly starts blushing?

Don't say that... Gojo Satoru has that virginal innocence that shows when a girl initiates intimacy?!

Could it be that he likes to see others blush? But it's when you're direct and sudden with him that makes him blush?!

Can you shame him?

Isn't he sweet...?

"Earth to (y/n).” your friend called out, waving her hand in front of your eyes.

"Huh?"

"Did you look like you were starting to smile? Are you thinking about your handsome virgin boyfriend~?” She laughed.

"... Tell me... When did you know that you and Kento were in love?" you asked.

"... You know, Kento is different from Gojo... Kento is a serious, but internally soft person! That makes him perfect!"

"But-"

"Did I see that Gojo may have fallen in love with you? Yes! Girl, can't you see the cute little steps this guy is making?! Who would have thought that a guy as confident as him would be shy as shit when he falls in love with someone!

"Wait wait! This is not a real relationship! It will end the moment he realizes that this is the case!" You said quickly.

"I don't see him ever wanting to end it~." She wagged her eyebrows. "A proposition for you, take the first step and he won't be able to stand it and will confess everything to you! You just know... Take care of the situation and he will admit everything ~."

"Does this sort of thing work on Nanami–."

"These are my secrets! Take care of your boy because I think you like the thought of this big guy as your sweet boy who is madly in love with you." She whispered in your ear before walking away, leaving you with your thoughts wandering.

All you could think about was what had just happened. Does she really see what's going on between you?

Gojo is often weird! But you can't say anything else about you... You're weird because you agreed to become his fake girlfriend.

And now you find out that he fell for you?

What were these events in your life?! It didn't make any sense! It was supposed to be an ordinary arrangement that could never last forever! So why do you feel like this arrangement between you is no longer real?

This has been going on for... Almost a year, right?

His family treats you as one of them... He acts so naturally around you...

And then there was the matter of why he chose you as his candidate for a fake girlfriend...

It was also something you might have wondered about.

There are so many girls like you or even better! Why did he choose you?!

The narrator is rushing you to answer now.

Because ever since he saw you, he felt his heart start beating faster. Your smile when you talked to your friends. Your slight dark side which clearly showed that you are not a shy girl. You're not afraid to get a little carried away. But you weren't the kind of girl who would do anything for fun either.

You were just perfect.

What's more, you didn't pay attention to him like others did.

He was the most popular at school. Every girl had hearts in their eyes when they saw him. But not you.

Sure, you thought he was handsome. But it wasn't like adoring him for nothing. You were nice and natural to him.

Everything you did was beautiful. You were beautiful.

That's why he couldn't take his eyes off you.

That's why he wanted you.

But despite this, he pretended to be unfazed by what was happening between you. He was trying to do this to see if you could like him as much as other girls.

His plan to play macho almost backfired when you were one step ahead of him, making his cheeks begin to blush.

It's a different feeling kissing someone just like that and kissing someone you have feelings for. This is something completely different.

That's why when he got a boost of self-confidence, he went to you.

He knew you were talking about something with your friend who later left. He paid no attention to her. Because he was thinking about what he had to think about. About what he should do and say.

But when you didn't turn around once as he walked towards you, he felt that this might be a little harder than it seemed...

Standing behind you, he placed a large hand on your head, waiting for you to look at him.

With his eyes almost closed, he saw your eyes move to his. And he gave you a big smile.

"Hey, baby. Shall we go for a ride?" he asked, pointing his thumb at the school gate.

You knew what that meant.

And to clear your mind you had to agree.

____

The motorbike engine wasn't so loud when you were thinking about something else.

His helmet was on your head while he was riding without it. Your arms wrapped around his waist as you didn't even pay attention to the flashing lights around you.

You didn't even know where he was taking you.

But you thought you could do a little test.

Your hands slid lower, drawing small patterns on his stomach before moving down to his lower abdomen.

"(y-y/n)...?" He called out loud enough for you to hear him.

"Focus on the road." you said, pressing one finger on the muscle above your belly button.

Did you have the impression that he really started breathing differently?

Did his heart beat a little faster when you held your cheek on his back?

It was sweet...

You couldn't see much from this angle with you being behind him. But you were sure he wasn't unmoved.

Because Gojo Satoru blushes when you're direct.

You may not have seen it, but his face became nervous and red. Your smaller fingers rubbing his stomach? You touched him as low as ever! And you've never even had sex with him!

He was almost unfazed when he saw women on the beach in very revealing swimsuits. But the one time he saw you in your underwear, he had a pants party...

He couldn't stop thinking about you until he put his hand down his pants and went to the bathroom.

But he still remembers the sight of your body in black underwear you had. He didn't even come into the room while you were changing, only he saw a small fraction of it.

But after days of fantasizing about you, when he finally saw you in person, his reaction was intense.

Because this high school playboy is so in love with you that the fact that you are closer to him for a little while will make him do somersaults with happiness.

But it doesn't change the fact that he is surprised by your brave gestures. Especially when you do it specifically to irritate him.

Just like now your fingers were massaging his stomach.

It would be easier if you accepted his true feelings! Then he could act as he wanted as your boyfriend! And now you have established boundaries! He didn't want it this way! He wanted you to be his girlfriend and his closeness would be there for you anytime and anywhere! He would provide you with everything!

Once you accept it...

For a year he has been showing his area at school. For a year he has been marking the territory that other boys can enter. And he is highly respected at school.

No one could approach you because he was with you and yours.

Like a guard dog.

He was dangerous to protect you. But with your sweet words and touch, he became a puppy. So eager for what you have for him. He melted. He was a mess.

Cheeks slightly pink when you complimented him or touched him.

Maybe it was weird, but it was the real Gojo Satoru. A man who loves your attention too much. Even though he was dangerous all around, because he fell in love with you, he became a shy boy who brings a gift to his crush.

And you... You were his love...

Seeing a three-second gap between the moving cars, he accelerated and took a sharp turn into a smaller street, driving there as if he had known this road for years.

The higher you were, the more trees you saw. And that seemed as weird as it did cool to you.

Your arms were wrapped around him as you began to look to the sides, realizing that you were higher up, in a small forest.

Until suddenly he stopped and turned off the engine.

"Where are we?" you asked, taking the dark helmet off your head.

He nodded towards the open space to your left.

You got up from the bike slowly and walked to the metal barrier to see the panorama of the city in the sun.

"I didn't know there was a place like this here." You told him, looking at the distant buildings.

"Maybe we should spend more time together then. I know a lot of places you don't know about." He said.

Looking at him, you saw his small smile as he leaned against the seat of the bike. His dark glasses low on his nose.

"We already spend a lot of time together and you've never shown me anything!" you laughed and took a few steps towards him.

His hands reached for your waist and he moved to him, placing your legs between his knees.

"I want more." He replied, looking into your eyes.

"You want more?" You hummed and leaned down, grabbing the collar of his red t-shirt.

Suddenly you kissed him and then pulled away. Your fingers stroked his chest.

You giggled at the sight before you. Running your thumb over his lower lip, you licked your lips.

"You look quite cute when your cheeks are rosy." you told him, and then he realized that he was blushing.

Yep... It's when you're direct that it makes him a mess.

His mind processed your words for a few minutes before he blushed a little more.

And your hands rubbed his thighs.

You were alone here. Could you...

His face became redder and the muscles in his thighs trembled under your touch.

Even though he seemed a little against it, his body was showing you that you could do whatever you wanted.

He wanted your first intimate encounter to be at some romantic moment. In a moment of euphoria. And not when you just want to have fun.

But he couldn't say no to your touch. Because your hands felt so nice on his body. Always been like that.

You fit his arms perfectly. And your smaller hands always felt so good on his body. Even though all you did was accidental touches, holding hands, hugging, sometimes kissing. He felt something like that.

But he could imagine your hands roaming all over his body, without exception.

How would you react to his body?

Your index finger stopped just above his belt buckle and you stepped back, looking at his red cheeks and ears.

Just like you thought, you touching him like that means a lot to him.

"(y/n)..." He murmured and reached for you with his hands.

"First tell me what you want from me now." you said with a small smile.

You didn't know what exactly to expect.

But you couldn't have expected what he actually said.

"I want you to be my girlfriend." He said, looking straight into your eyes.

"...I'm already?" you laughed lightly.

"No no. I want you to be my real girlfriend."

He must be joking, right?

You feel good with him and you don't have any intrusions when he is your boyfriend. But did he of all people have to say it?

You thought he might say he wants sex now...

"I want you to be with me for real. Because I love you…” The small pink in his cheeks didn’t fade as he waited hopefully for your response.

With a small smile, you leaned into him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

And before you saw the disappointment in his eyes, you kissed his lips, letting him hold you as close as he wanted.

Love is not a hare, it will not run away. You are sure that you will love it as much as he truly loves you.

And he showed it to you in these little steps from the beginning. To now finally show you all this in three words.

This is the end of your fake relationship with the popular boy at school who looked up to you.

He fall in love with you. So you can fall in love with him. And this will be really quick.

Because you already started loving him.