luveill

[luveill]

i feel like a small kink-that-isn’t-such-a-kink-but-i’m-calling-it-a-kink that kento has is watching you squirm from overstimulation.

specifically your hands during sex.

“move ‘em.” kento grits out, voice shaky as he fucks you from behind. you whine at his command, ignoring it and holding onto the blanket underneath you just a bit tighter. he watches how your fingers crunch the fluffy fabric, body trembling once he gives you a thrust that rubs your g-spot. you mewl, head falling onto the bed with a force on the back of it. his larger hand slides from your head down to your chin, turning it sideways against the bed. “what did i say sweetheart?” he mumbles, halting his movement. his soaked cock stays full into you, wet and sticky cum mushed around where you two meet. you whimper, trying to push back. his tip nudges where you need him, but your wanton moan is greeted with a spank of your ass.

“you’re not listening, hm?” kento quips, rubbing your hot ass cheek and leaning down. your back further arches, “s-sorry, just..” you try to explain yourself, but the teetering moans leaving you as his dick rocks into you do you no justice. “my baby’s so needy..” kento smiles, kissing the side of your cheek, his peppered kisses going down below your jaw, a slick of wetness in its wake. “c’mon sweetie, let go f’me.” he coos in your ear, fresh regal cologne filling your senses. you purse your lips, following his words obediently and letting your hands relax. you didn’t even realize how hard you had clutched onto the bed, hands aching a bit and fingers red.

swiftly, your face is turned straight into the blanket, hands pulled behind you and wrists locked by just one of your lover’s hands. without words, kento begins pounding your cunt how your need it, loud squelches and sounds of the mess that you two have made. your whines and moans fill kento’s head, his eyes stuck on how your ass jiggles with each thrust into you. the skin slowly brightening with juices that leave your soaping pussy. however, his view trails up, feeling your wiggling fingers scratch at his hand. god, you’re so cute. even if he can’t see your lewd expressions, he just knows you’re losing every bit of sobriety you had left, letting yourself go dumb on his cock. your fingers stretch before digging into his skin, but with the thick head of his cock angling just too good, they widen again, matching the sound of your higher moans. “please! please! please— make me cum!” your words rip through you, sobbing and shaking. kento groans, he can get used to studying you like this..

[luveill]

with your head shoved into the pillow, your hand reaches back, lightly pushing at his stomach.

“mmph—give me a second, ohh—”

eyes rolling back into your head, you hand drops as he swings his hips harder, relentlessly prodding at that one spot in your cunt.

“kento!” you squeal, voice muffled and legs shaking, “i’m gonna cum again!”

he shushes you softly, a hand running down the curve of your ass. “i know baby, it’s okay.”

you shake your head, “‘m gonna die, ken—”

he laughs, watching your body shake in tandem with your orgasm. he’s holding your hips in place and he continues, pace never faltering. “you’re okay, sweet girl. just focus on feeling good.”

nanami leans down, kissing your temple. feeling his weight on you makes you drool, the warmth of his body addicting.

“more, please,” you slur, body flattening on the mattress. kento pulls out momentarily, pushing your legs together and sliding a pillow under your tummy before pushing back in.

“fuck!” you cry, hands pulling at his sheets, “fuck you!”

his weight presses you into the mattress. his teeth biting lightly at your ear. “one more baby, come on.”

“cumming ‘m cummin’, you—fuuuckk—”

“yeah,” he groans, feeling your cunt clench around him. he thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. sloppily kissing your cheek, his hand reaches up to grab your jaw, “you’re gonna make me cum sweet girl—where do you want it?”

“inside, please, i need it so bad.” you whine, turning your head to kiss him.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbles, thrusting with a different fervour before dropping most of his weight on you, groaning in your ear.

“take it, baby, ‘s all yours.” you moan as you feel him filling you up, eyes almost crossing at the feeling.

nanami rolls off you momentarily, tucking your hair behind your ear and watching you catch your breath. he breathes out a chuckle, “so dramatic, you asked for this, remember?”

you try faking a frown but fail, your lips forming into a smirk instead. “what if i ask for it again?”

a hand playfully swats the swell of your ass, “you don’t know what you’re asking for, beautiful.”

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he pulls his cock out, the weight making it slap against his stomach as he rubs your clit with his thumb, biting back a grin as he watches your legs shake and liquid spray the sheets.

“fuck me,” you cry, hips twitching away from him.

he shushes you, clearly mocking you, but you have nothing to say to him. your brain is mush—giving him full reign on whatever he wanted to do with you.

and nanami wants to make you feel good.

he flips you onto your back, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs before he pushes back in.

your cunt squelches with each thrust and you have half a mind to feel embarrassed at how intently he’s staring at your hole.

“asshole, stop staring.” you manage through your moans, swatting at his face in an attempt to get him to look somewhere else.

(part of you was trying to get him more worked up)

because nanami always fucks you too good, but now you’re greedy—just wanting more and more and more.

nanami knows this—he knows he spoils you too much, but he can’t find it in him to care when he knows he’s just as bad.

“hands off, gorgeous,” he mumbles, “behave.”

nanami leans down, your ankles dangling over his shoulders as his lips brush against yours. you know it’s a reminder that he loves you so dearly.

he kisses both your cheeks, hands cupping your face before pressing his lips against yours.

when he pulls away from you, he runs a hand down your side, thumb inching close to your cunt.

you shake your head, knowing what he’s going to do. “no clit, ken—fuuuuck!”

“shhh, i know what you like, love.” he replies, groaning lowly when your cunt pushes him out, liquid splashing against his groin.

nanami moans, low and guttural as he rubs his cock on your cunt, letting you ride out your orgasm. “shit, ‘m cummin’ baby.”

hot cum spurts out of his dick, landing on your tummy. you whine, pupils morphing into hearts at how thick his cum is, but more so at how his cock is still rock hard.

“need you to cum in me, please,” you beg, hand sliding down your body to part your folds. his dick twitches, eyes almost rolling back when he shoves himself back in.

you might just kill him and he isn’t complaining!

[luveill]

droppin this . . . did yall miss me !!!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔… hates it when you cry.

glistening, chunky tears that stream down your soft cheeks. he hears the little sniffle that indicates a bigger sob brewing underneath the surface, tears bubbling to your eyes and he's already whispering soft "no, no, no, no no..." as if he can plead the tears away... plead the pain away. when you cry, any sort of teasing or sarcastic remarks is washed from his handsome expression, and your lover immediately takes you into his arms in an attempt to ease your cries.

it hurts you, and it hurts him too.

gojo has always been like this, but when you cry during sex—

its all different.

he has you in his arms for a different reason tonight. gojo's weight pushing your body into the mattress of the bed as he shamelessly hits it from the back. fuck, the two of you have been at it like rabbits for the past four hours. every time you think you're done, gojo finds a new way your body stretches for him. he eases himself inside of your gummy walls, lips hissing the most heinous words into the hot shell of your ear.

he's got you in a head lock. your nose is pressed into the meaty muscle of his forearm, strong bicep supporting you so you don't entirely collapse as his hips rut into your own. you can't help crying out, lip quivering and brain entirely rotted with how fucking good he fucks you.

"f-fuck..." he chokes out. "you cryin' again?"

but truth be told, he isn't mad. he isn't mad at all or sad.

the sight of you crying simply makes him wanna fuck the tears right out of your body.

"mmh... s-sorry—" you wail, a sloppy line of spit falling between your lips onto his hot skin. "'ts not my fault you're s-so big...! agh!"

"oho, so it's my fault now?" he chuckles deeply, slowing his pace.

snowy white pubes brush against your thigh, a hard vein cruelly swiping itself against the plush of your cunt. he's so mean.

it's nasty, but he loves it. in any other scenario, the sight of you crying would break his heart... but witnessing your tears in bed only makes him eager to fill your guts and fuck a baby right into the tummy bulge he gives you.

"fuuuck... 'm gonna cum again," gojo chuckles, almost as if he's amused with his own intense sex drive. "gonna cum in ya. finally gonna give you that baby you want."

"pl... please...!"

"now stop your cryin', 'kay?"

you nod, a strangled "mmhmmm..." into his skin, panting against his forearm.

his hips click into yours once more, finally spilling his milky white seed into the heaven between your thighs. your vision goes entirely black as you come down with him, flopping onto the cushions with a face entirely soaked in an aftermath of drool and tears. gojo pulls out and nearly collapses on top of you, head tucked into your neck. the only sound that fills the room is a symphony of labored breaths and the raindrops pattering against the window.

after a moment of silence, he speaks.

"are you okay?" gojo asks softly, tone changing entirely. you giggle at his duality— this is the same man who was trying to fuck a baby into your guts five seconds ago.

a slender hand comes up to wipe at your wet face. he doesn't care of your remnants of mascara dirty his fingers; he'll clean it later.

"yeah, 'm fine. thank you..." you reply quietly, shifting so that intense sex can slowly turn into a quiet cuddle session. gojo holds you like that and stares up at the ceiling, angelic eyelashes fluttering with a tired exhale.

"i get scared i'm hurtin' you whenever you cry, you know that?"

"i promise it's not like that..." you urge, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"you promise?"

"promise."

and he knows its just an instinct. you happen to be a crybaby, and that's completely fine with him. he prefers that anyways.

"fuck."

"what?" you perk up.

"my dick is hard again."

© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.

[luveill]

HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.

he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.

and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.

so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—

half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.

and he's just so. man. in every single way.

(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)

[luveill]

who up wanting something they can never have

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Rubbing pretty clits with Shoko, only for a needy Gojo to come up right behind you and slide himself in between your sloshing pussies... You groan into an outcry, head knocking back into his broad shoulder, "Toru 〜"

The rubbing of fat mounds sickly sweet, keep your mouth agape, moaning a mix of their names in utter bliss. All while Gojo is busy sandwiching the fat of his cock past slippery folds as you slide around. Each barrel, his pelvis hits your doughy globes hard, forcing your grip on Shoko's waist to tweeze. It's cute though, catching how a petal of fingerprints wake in her pale flesh.

He'd try hard to dismiss his needy attention, to not fully come between you girls – nipping at the shell of your ear, but his hips buck eagerly; fucking himself between those soft and warm pillows that sap at his base, and each time the oozing capped tip peaked out — prodding with a hard thump, it nubs right at your clits, purely adding all to the slippery, wet fun...

The next day you're scissoring with Shoko again; her pretty, and snowy plush thighs knobbly between yours… But this time a needy Getō is below your working bodies, keeping a stiff dick between your pussies like a pole trapped in snow.

Suguru is wrecked, his hair is sticking to that dewey face that could only scrunch up in euphoria as he shamelessly lays back, watching how both you pretty girls practically hotdog his fat meat... You could feel him throbbing as you rub along his length with Shoko, knowing she could say the same, watching how she sucks in her rosey, bottom lip… Even feeling puffy folds glide against hers when you'd mush yourself just a little harder.

Every ridden face growing tight. Damp mounds engorge and slide up and down Geto's swelled-up length with haste, and each time you'd reach the pearled crown, puffy clits would kiss… He'd spill out just a little more too; the mushing of you both was practically milking him, making ease for you girls to prod messier — faster in thrumming need...

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: JJK MASTERLIST –>

[luveill]

Introduction to The Iliad, Emily Wilson

[luveill]

Older bf!Nanami Kento

— disclaimer (mdni, 18+ only)

Older bf!Kento had his moral’s tested the day he met you — the pretty little uni student who lives in the building across from him, but always seems to run into him every time he leaves and comes home from work. He swears it must be just another one of those little inconvenience that makes a person an adult every time he catches you all doe-eyed, a glossy smile, and a polite ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ coming from your mouth ever time you cross paths that makes the hand holding his suitcase grip it until his knuckles turn white.

He’s a man of self restraint.

He’s a man of self restraint until one day you’re asking him if he could help you hang up something in your apartment, the way the end of your almond french tip ends up between your teeth through that dumb smile while watching the muscles in his biceps flex when he hammers the nail until your wall makes his stomach drop. It doesn’t matter if he’s 27. You’re still in uni, and he would never risk the chance of having to go through explaining to his colleagues that his girlfriend isn’t employed, but a girl in university — heavens, no. It sounds taboo.

His resolve further crumbles after weeks of asking for assistance with all the little, yet what he finds unnecessary, renovations in your apartment, the cookies you bake him as a ‘thank you’ always seeming to melt in his mouth. That’s what you’re doing now, standing in the doorway of his apartment with a skirt too short to be considered appropriate and eyes that are wide like a sweet little doe caught in the barrel of hunters rifle. He hates the way his heart clenches to the point it’s painful at the way you stammer through that nervous grin, the pinch in your eyebrows revealing your anxiety when you ask him to go out for coffee — and fuck, he knows it will break your little heart if he tells you ‘no.’

Older bf!Kento who agrees to taking you out for coffee, which you were presuming would simply end in a walk to the coffee shop at the corner of the block where he sits across from you for two minutes before he up and leaves. You don’t expect him to pick you up in his car, one that makes you a little stiff when you sit in it with this worry of somehow ruining the leather seats or damaging the expensive interior. He doesn’t even look at you on the way to the over-priced café with expensive interior that makes you feel as if you’re on your own little Europe getaway. The only responses he gives you are short, majority of them being ‘uh-huh’s’ as you babble in attempt to find the right thing that would make him respond to you.

All you want him to do is say a little bit more, and halfway through your Frappuccino, one that made you cringe upon hearing the price yet profusely thank him for buying you as you didn’t want to come across as greedy, he finally starts to ask you questions. It feels like an interrogation for a while, and when you try to reciprocate the questions, his responses are bland. He hates that you have to worry so much over academics, and hates that he feels this need to not let you lift a dainty little finger over a thing when he can easily do it for you.

Your shoulders are slumped when you’re walking back out to his car to leave, feeling like you’ve wasted a pretty outfit for nothing other than getting your heart hurt. You don’t expect him to text you later that evening that he had a good time.

Older bf!Kento who’s absolutely enamored with everything about you, and loses all his restraint the minute you’re kneeling in front of him as he stands. Your hands fumbling with his buckle while giving him those familiar doe eyes of yours, questioning softly, “please, Nanami?”

He grits his teeth. You’re still calling him Nanami after being corrected to call his Kento so many times, but you’re a worrying little thing who, when not stressing yourself sick over academics, is thinking all dreamily about her handsome boyfriend, Kento.

You can only lean into the hand, calloused from years of being a jujutsu sorcerer, comes down to rest upon the crown of your head, sliding to your cheek, under your jaw, tilting it up to look at him properly. You’re so transfixed by the honey-brown eyes peering down into yours with all the care in the world held within them, a contrast to the stoicism on his face, that you almost don’t catch the sound of his free hand undoing the buttons of his slacks for you.

“Need some help or can you do it yourself, sweetheart?”

— reqs are open<3

[luveill]

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.  

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

 Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

© angelfic 2023.

[luveill]

something about sugawara just screams free use to me 🥴

omg it feels so long since i've used these pictures lmao

word count: 685

cw: fem!reader, dub-con, consent implied, free use, public sex, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), minors dni

he just likes having you whenever and wherever he wants. it's hard to tell him no when he makes you feel so good.

you could be talking on the phone with a friend and here comes suga settling himself between your legs. rolling your eyes, you already know what's on his mind and try to focus on the conversation when you feel him take off your shorts and underwear to eat you out.

it's hard to maintain focus when he's sucking your clit like he needs it to survive but he'll scold you for hanging up on your friend so rudely.

but he won't stop until you're whining on the phone or you end the call and buck into his mouth to get yourself off. he has a habit of torturing you that way.

at least that's better than the time he walked into the dressing room where you were trying on clothes.

"kou—" you whispered-yelled but it didn't stop suga from lifting up your skirt and pushing your panties aside.

"you looked so pretty showing me all your outfits," he said, stroking his cock before sinking into the warmth of your cunt. "you'll let me play with you a little bit, yeah?"

he doesn't give you much time to think before he starts fucking you right there in the fitting room.

suga covers your mouth so you can't protest - or cry out from the pleasure and alert the closest employee.

"we should keep this dress, baby," he says sweetly, tugging at the top to make your breasts spill out. "it fits you so well. like a glove."

he hits that spot that turns your legs into jelly and, even with his hand on your mouth, a shrill cry escapes you.

suga slows down his thrust, never fully stopping, when he hears the quiet sounds of footsteps outside the door. "is everything alright?" the associate asks with a knock.

"we're fine! she just got her hair stuck in a zipper," he said confidently. even behind a door, he can still charm anyone he meets.

"ok, if you need any help, i'll be around!" the employee says before walking away.

you're not sure if it's the thrill of being caught or your embarrassment that eggs suga on but that brief interaction just makes him fuck you harder.

he's at his most devious when he catches you sleeping on the couch, a paused youtube video that has long since been forgotten on the tv.

this happens a lot. you'll take naps during the day when you're too tired from cooking, cleaning, or doing your own work while you wait for sugawara to come home.

when suga catches you in these moments, his favorite thing to do is position you on your back and pull your shorts down.

he never tries to be discreet - suga enjoys waking you up with his cock. he loves seeing your sweet face contort in pleasure even in slumber.

"feels good doesn't it baby," he whispers into your skin, fucking you just as hard and deep as he would if you were conscious. "making me happy even when you're sleepy, i'm so lucky."

suga doesn't just stop at fucking you, he's rubbing his fingers against your clit and using his free hand to pull your top down to suck at your tits.

he won't stop until you've woken up, which usually happens when you're about to cum. you'll start breathing heavily and paw at suga's arms in a desperate attempt to grasp onto something.

"k-kou? kou—oh god," you whine, thighs trapping suga as pleasure racks through your still sleepy body.

you came around him, body shaking the entire time and suga could live off of it. he loves having you as his plaything that he can dump his cum into over and over again.

suga doesn't bother cleaning you up after both of you come. usually, he would but instead, he pulls your panties back on and kisses you.

"get some rest, babe. gonna fuck you again in an hour," he says and suga has always been a man of his word.

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[luveill]

stoner!sugawara calls you in the middle of a smoke sesh late at night and practically begs you to sit on his face when he comes over.

"no, baby, you don't understand. i need you to do it, please?" he whispers into the phone, his voice raspy. "just—just sit on me please, i need to eat you out or i'm gonna go crazy."

you agree, laughing at his desperation, and he's practically BOOKING it to your place.

"and don't hover over me or anything," he adds. "fucking sit on me, i don't care if i can't breathe."

#god save my soul #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara smut

[luveill]

being pregnant with Sukuna's child in the Heian era

「True form Sukuna. Established relationship. They're married, actually. Sukuna is stern, cold, and cruel. Yet insanely in love with you.」

「no usage of y/n」

Currently thinking about how Sukuna would act when you're pregnant with his child.

You're his little girl, always in his private chamber, mostly acting like a brat but always getting pampered by him. At first, you complained about always being held in his private chamber, but gradually, you started finding comfort on his bed, his scent.

You would lay on his bed when he's out of his chamber, taking his scent in. Walking between his clothes in his closet, looking at all the things he owns.

Now you're heavily pregnant with his child, looking absolutely adorable and gorgeous. You ask him for help more often, looking at his stern yet gentle eyes innocently with a cute pout, complaining about how heavy and tired you feel.

He would chuckle softly and gently put two of his four massive arms around your waist, bend down to reach your cute face and fill it with smooches. Your temples, your cheeks, your sensitiv jaw. He would whisper praises into your ear

"Is my little girl tired..? How cute. My little one is carrying my child. I am proud of you."

Then he would help you with whatever you want.

One time, he came back to his chamber, seeing one of the servants next to your bed.

His eye twitches since he doesn't remember allowing any of his servants to come to his private chamber to you, his precious woman.

He thinks maybe you have asked for the servant, so he doesn't say anything and silently towers over you and the servant, inspecting carefully.

You notice him and smile while tilting your head

"My lord, I asked her to come to help me with my hair."

He only replies with "I will do it for you."

Then he turns to the servant, his eyes speaking for him. The servant quickly bows and walks out.

The other time, you were walking with him in his mansion, an excited servant daring to congratulate you on your pregnancy. You giggle, and thank her. She excitingly extends one of her hands to touch your pregnant belly, only for it to be cut off by Sukuna before reaching your belly.

He hates how people look at your belly, obviously wanting to touch it. But to actually attempt to touch it was insane to him.

You were his pretty little pregnant wife. Only he had the right to touch and caress you.

He would cuddle with you every night, caressing your hair and belly, kissing your temples, praising you, and thanking you for carrying his child, for being his wife, and for being his first and last lover.

[luveill]

High Enough

Unknown/gn!reader;

For day 1 of Mystictober: favorite character/dance. I will be doing only a handful of these this year around, depending on which promts get me inspired enough to write something! This one's very self-indulgent. I always thought of what would have happened if you got a chance to interact with Unknown in the game. What if he shows up at the party?

"I never would have expected to see someone as mysterious and broody as you in the middle of such a posh event, Mr. Unknown."

You only laughed as your dance partner tightened his hold on your hand in response to your little jab, his cold eyes narrowing at you in a silent warning. A warning that only encouraged you to get ever bolder with your relentless teasing.

It's common knowledge to avoid playing with fire, unless you want to get burned. Alas, you were never good at following this saying. After all, who in their right mind would listen to a complete stranger and go to some remote location with minimum fuss? You didn’t know whether you were really that stupid, naive, or you simply didn’t care about your own life anymore. Perhaps, the truth was somewhere in the middle, as it often was. Either way, your every choice lead you to this very moment: with you now swaying to the soft jazzy melody, a man you met face to face for the very first time as your partner.

And, despite all the glaring red flags, you felt oddly at peace with it.

It was hard to see any red when all your eyes could focus on was this beautifully harsh mint that pulled you in, like an enchanted lake would lure some poor traveler's soul in those old-timey tales you would read as a child.

You knew that you should probably try to notify Seven of the presence of the very same hacker that has been tormenting their organization for days now. You knew that what you were doing right now was stupid at best, and outright dangerous at worst. You knew that this wouldn't end in your favor, regardless of how much fun you were having in the present. But, you also knew that you wouldn't do the right thing here. You had every opportunity to contact Seven and relay all the important info to him, once Unknown contacted you again for the first time a few weeks ago.

Yet, you didn't. You never did. Not even once. Not a single slip of the tongue left your lips about your secret guardian angel who was watching over your every move and word. Or, was he a devil? His smirk was certainly devilish, in the best way possible.

Instead, you indulged in this mysterious man's attention, cryptic messages sent between you two leaving you reading in between the lines, hungry for answers you knew you wouldn't find. You were just a plaything to him. A tool. His eyes. And yet, something about that left your heart fluttering in your chest, much to your own bewilderment and curiosity. You were connected. What you saw, he saw. What you heard, he heard. Something was alluring about knowing that someone was watching over your every move with such precision.

Maybe, you just weren't right in the head.

You brought up the idea of him going to the party as a joke, really. In hindsight, you probably should have known Unknown doesn't do jokes. Despite everything, you were unsure if he would arrive up until the very last moment. That is until you got a message from him. In a classic Unknown fashion, it was something that would surely make chills run up your spine if you were someone of sound mind. Nothing but the short: 'I see you ^^', that left you looking around the ballroom, as if you forgot where you were for a second. He wouldn't reveal himself to you for another 20 minutes or so, pulling you along for a frustrating game of cat and mouse. And, despite you supposedly being in the role of a cat in this game, you never felt more exposed. Much to your disappointment, he didn't let you find him in the end. He came to you instead.

When it came to Unknown, the game was always rigged from the start. He was the one in control, holding all the cards, and he didn't try very hard to hide that from you. In fact, you were pretty sure he found your little games exciting in his own strange twisted way. He enjoyed toying with you, and you played right into his hands every time. Like a good little tool, you were.

His appearance definitely blended well with the party. No one would suspect that the young man the party coordinator chose as their dancing partner for the night was of any threat at all. Truth be told, the moment he finally revealed himself to you fully, you found your breath getting caught up in your throat as you took him in, no physical barriers or mind games stopping you this time around. Unknown wore a captivatingly dark tailcoat adorned with mint patterns, and, if you squinted very hard, you could make out an eye or two between the thin intertwined lines. It was somewhat funny. As if he just couldn't help but make a point of him keeping his eyes on you at all times. The captivating mint accents on his black tailcoat certainly brought out his eyes of the very same odd color, making it that much more easier for you to get lost in them. You wondered if he wore contacts. Such eye color didn't seem natural. Then again, Unknown was always unpredictable, full of mysteries you would never solve, unless he let you. The plain white button-up he wore underneath his tailcoat was unbuttoned at the collar just enough for you to see a slick black choker around his neck. You certainly didn't have any naughty thoughts of hooking your finger under it to pull him closer to you, until he was pressed flush against you. Not even once. His white hair with pinkish ends was messy, not at all styled to look neatly combed like the rest of the guests here, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way his slightly curly locks would sometimes fall over his eyes, making the desire to reach in and brush them aside almost unbearable. He was simply exquisite to look at. A lovely treat for your eyes. Or, was he more like poison? Luring you in with this irresistible facade, only to capture you in his claws once you were too close for comfort?

No matter what he was, you hoped he felt the same way about your party outfit as well. Maybe it was just your wishful thinking, but you swore you caught him occasionally looking you up and down, the intensity in his gaze increasing ever so slightly, as he would then swiftly pull you close in your dance, making your body brush up against his ever so slightly. Judging from the low chuckle that would rumble in his throat whenever he did that, he knew exactly what he was doing to you. So, is that really such a crime to pay him back a little?

"You sure have a lot of sass for someone who's supposed to be so seemingly perfect, party coordinator." Unknown hissed just loud enough for you to hear, suddenly dipping you as you gasped and stared up into his eyes, completely taken aback by this unexpected move. He didn't have to do much to leave you breathless. And you didn't really try to conceal that fact from him. Just as quickly, you were brought right back up, with him now twirling you around, your back pressing up against his chest. His hands playfully slid down your sides, until they gripped onto your hips, leaving you trembling in place, your face suddenly growing too hot for comfort. You barely managed to suppress a choked whimper as his breath ghosted the shell of your ear in such a delicious way. "You're in no position to tease me, Y/N. But, I admire your boldness. Makes it that much more tempting for me to tame you. Oh, but you probably would like that, wouldn't you? That's why you left those bastards in the dust without a second thought. You know your place."

Fuck, what are you even supposed to say to that? In fact, it was becoming difficult for you to even think straight, not with the heat of his body against your back making you feel all hot and bothered. You gulped. "...Is it too early to take you up on that offer of yours?"

Both of you were well aware of what you were referring to. It was the very first message he sent you after you foolishly stepped into Rika's apartment at his request, essentially sealing your fate.

'It'll be really fun from now on. Enjoy your time with everyone. I'll go get you soon.'

Your chin was tickled by a gruff chuckle as his thumb caressed your hip. God, this man was driving you wild. "Patience, dear party coordinator. The end will be the same either way. But, if you do a good job for me... I might consider giving you a reward once that time comes."

"A reward?"

As his chapped lips briefly brushed against your cheek, you could only gasp, trembling in his arms like the silly butterfly you were. Except, this butterfly landed into the spider's web willingly. You wondered what that meant for you.

"I'll personally welcome you to our eternal party. Consider this your personal invitation to paradise, prince/ss."

[luveill]

This, in all honesty, was never what Unknown had intended to happen. This was not how things were supposed to go, and it confused him to the point he’d willingly chug endless vials of elixir just to chase the feeling away. And he did…almost every night he did. He pleaded for his body to listen to him and to strip him clean so this weak affliction would no longer plague his soul. Drowning never worked as a cure though, only pulling you closer as you stayed by his side in these moments where he tried to run from you. Unknown continuously poisoning himself was what led to the tip of the iceberg, and he had no idea what to do when you suddenly kissed him out of desperation.

From the start, you were nothing but trouble for him. You were supposed to be his stupid little Alice in this long game of revenge, with Unknown in the role of the white rabbit you chased out of curiosity. When exactly did everything flip to be the other way around? Why was he suddenly the one falling down the rabbit hole, trapped in a room filling with tears of confusion as nothing seemed to make sense? You were supposed to enter that apartment long ago, and yet here you are. In his lap and spinning his world into complete and utter chaos.

Being with you is nauseating. The way your hands work their way through his bleached hair as your lips meet is a horrible experience, for the reason that you make him so overly conscious of the slightest movements and bodily reactions. You strip him so easily of his control as you press against him, and for once he has no idea how to regain it. It pisses him off how his mouth can’t seem to contain some peculiar noises, noises he’s making just for you. His heart thuds, his lungs are about to burst, and he is angry at the uncomfortable temperature that spreads throughout his being.

Before you, he had never properly dwelled on the fact that he had never kissed someone before. He figured it would always remain that way, not capable of such intense feelings in the past. He had no interest in anyone, ever. Not in a romantic way, nor in a physical manner. But now…now he catches himself watching the way your lashes flutter shut when you’re tired, or the way your chest bubbles up with small laughter when he makes the world’s flattest joke. Now, he likes to stare too intensely at your lips as you talk, and lets his mind wander as he stops typing…and then proceeds to punish himself for doing so. This is a new weakness you have unlocked.

Unknown freezes, upset that he has no idea where to touch you and how to get you to react as you slide your cold fingers underneath his tank top. His lack of knowledge leaves him feeling vulnerable, and he’s missing his usual confidence he uses to prove himself strong. Should he follow by example and do the same under your shirt?

It’s when he decides to feel your bare spine that the atmosphere grows somehow tighter. It spurs you on to begin showering your affections onto his neck, and he decides that he can’t take anymore of it as his hands start to shake. You listen immediately as he stops you, and he is angry at your continuous respect for his boundaries when he displays almost none for yours.

Unknown cannot go that far with you. Unknown can’t take you into himself that deeply, nor will he ever. Unknown is nothing but a shadow, incapable of giving you any satisfaction with his ghost of a body and his cold bones for fingers. Unknown cannot feel, for he is nothing, and you are human. You deserve more than the kiss of your kidnapper, and he is afraid of what you do to him.

[luveill]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 [𝐍𝐎𝐓]!! | a JJK series

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!” “BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU!” It’s no secret to anyone on this Earth that you and Gojo cannot stand each other. Despite that, the world seems amused to put these two star-crossed lovers haters in the same space. Or worse, have them dwell deeper into their feelings for one another…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - fluff + angst + misunderstandings - first kiss - virginity loss - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - secret relationships; implied friends-with-benefits - sex in shared rooms; college dorms + hotel suite - college parties - use of party games (seven minutes in heaven) - confessions - mention of drug/alcohol abuse - humor bc Gojo and college, lol - Gojo is a cocky, tactless sweetheart, nothing new - cameos of other characters + explicit content will be listed in their respective fics (within the contents).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: when I say that I had this series planned out, I mean like mid-October last year planned out, lmaoo!! I'm honestly so psyched to do this series, as it's one of my favorite tropes + relatively short as I'll be busy irl, but we'll do what we can!! i was lowkey feeling this concept when i was re-watching Ranma 1/2 and figured it would work great with Gojo. So, here's to hoping i can properly execute my thoughts with this series, hehehe~

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ❤︎ gif header made by me + fic dividers used are provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒓...

All the material below contains explicit 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (Feb 1st)

The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 (Feb 7th)

Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 (Feb 14th)

Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖!

Would you like to be tagged when these pieces get released? Lmk in the replies, please, and thank you!

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫!!! Have made a list of the first 50 ppl who asked, but don't worry!! Check back for the stories when they're posted on their respective dates!!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[luveill]

yuta is sensitive, actually very sensitive, and he thinks no one notices, especially you.

the way his eyes squint and glare when he sees you talking to someone else, or the way he bites the tip of his fingers when he’s anxious.

“who was that?” yuta would ask for the fifth time of the day once you get done talking to someone.

it was a recurring cycle.

his jealously and sensitivity would pulse through him and wouldn’t know why.

the way your big eyes lit up anytime you spoke to anyone, he would furrow his eyebrows and think to himself why he got so upset.

he only wanted to see you, feel you, make you smile, laugh, all of it, but it wasn’t only you that made him sensitive.

even around his friends he got extra sensitive and needy towards that person but it didn’t shine through.

the only person that noticed was you.

the way he grabbed onto your hand anytime in public, the way he whispered in your ear to stay close, the way he texted you anytime you went somewhere.

he did extra things for you because the both of you were closer but it was evident, it was kinda cute.

often comparing him to rika and his cheeks would flush covering your mouth telling you to quiet down.

he’ll be especially needy and sensitive when he went off on trips asking if if you ate, where you were, who all you hung out with.

you’ll respond with the same thing and make jokes and he’ll tell you to stop joking with sternness in his voice.

he was very serious when it came to keeping track of what you were doing when he wasn’t there.

it was cute, he cared, even though he showed it in silly ways.