#but now I’m so nervous that people won’t like the ending | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyorina · 1 month

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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking.

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side.

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics.

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction.

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk.

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately.

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you.

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk.

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there.

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is.

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge.

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt.

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple.

He smiles.

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route.

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants.

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is.

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to.

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest.

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.”

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him.

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs.

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent.

God, he’s gorgeous.

You hate him.

You’ve missed him.

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can.

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs.

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips.

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.”

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago.

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective.

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?”

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions.

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him.

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace.

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time.

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying.

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch.

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist.

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs.

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did.

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work.

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk.

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek.

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes.

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything.

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t.

“I know,” he murmurs.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly.

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses.

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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4izawas · 5 months

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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “i’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down. / “…mhmm.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: satoru gojo/f!reader, mild sukuna/reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 6.25k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: college au, fem reader, fuckboy satoru, protected sex ( wrap it up cumsluts ), jealousy, attempted hand-holding, brief nanami cameo, satoru gets hard attached and then is O.O when reader is like ‘nah imma dip now’, slight angst, unrequited love, previously established relationship ( just not w gojo 💀💀 ), cheating ( by reader ), bf sukuna.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: hmmm gojo’s not suffered enough, let’s do THIS 👹👹

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Gojo Satoru was not nervous.

All he had to do was ask a simple girl in his Philosophy course out so he could take her home and sleep with her. He’d never asked any of the girls in his Philosophy course out, though, so he was a little hesitant. As odd as it would seem, he enjoyed this class, and he didn’t want anything awkward to happen — which was why Suguru had directed him your way.

‘“She won’t make it weird,”’ he’d said, though how he’d known when Satoru knew every person that his best friend had ever slept with ( and you had not been one of them ) was beyond him.

Remember, he thinks to himself, glancing over at you a few times in a way he thinks isn’t noticeable, She’s gonna fall all over you, just like all the others, as soon as you ask her out. Easy lay.

And he wasn’t nervous.

Class ends, and he waits for everyone to make their way out. From experience over the last semester and a half, you were one of the last people to leave, taking your time considering you didn’t have any more courses after this one ended at noon on Tuesdays until 5pm. Once only a few stragglers are left, he grabs his books and saunters over, plastering on one of his most breathtaking grins ( if he did say so himself ), then leaning against your desk. You don’t look at him, blatant disinterest emanating off of you, but he forges forward.

“So… I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” he asks, preening over how quick all the past yeses came. Men and women fell all over him like water rolls over stone in riverbeds,

“No.”

“Great, I was thinking maybe that new Italian joint—,” Satoru pauses. Blinks. Registers your words. “…What?”

“No. Is a two letter word so difficult for you to understand?” Satoru is… shocked, for lack of a better word. He’d never actually been told no before.

“But… why?” His question is whinier than he’d intended, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You narrow your eyes up at him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you — but if you must know, I go on dates with the man I intend to be in a relationship with,” you say honestly, and Satoru fights back a snort. “I don’t date someone who’s only good for a quick fucking session.”

“I’m boyfriend material!” he cries indignantly, offended despite the fact that he’d never kept a relationship for more than a few months out of sheer boredom, and you pause before looking him up and down.

“…Mhmm,” is your only reply, and he pouts. You go back to finishing up, and he thinks for a moment, drumming his fingers against the surface of your desk before shrugging.

“Interested in hooking up, then?” he asks, and you glance up at him questioningly. “We don’t have to date, we could just have sex.” Not that you’d want to keep him as ‘just a fuckbuddy’ for too long, Satoru thinks.

You hum softly, seeming to think it over, then give a slight nod. “Sure, we can fuck,” you say with a lazy shrug, then sigh. “But no feelings. I’m not interested, especially not with someone who has a reputation like yours.”

“You say that now, but you’re gonna be beggin’ for me to be your boyfriend,” Satoru chuckles, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply, sounding amused as you cross your arms, and without missing a beat he waggles his eyebrows at you, and you raise one of your own. “What?”

“Wanna get started on this friends-with-benefits thing now? My car’s in the parking lot,” he grins, and you look completely unimpressed.

You resume picking up your notebooks and textbook, shoving them in your backpack and steadfastly refusing to look at his goofy expression. “I’m not fucking in your dirty-ass backseat,” you reply grumpily. “I might catch something.”

“I’ll have you know my car is amazing and clean and perfect,” Satoru retorts, acting as if his feelings are hurt, and you scoff.

“Not with you as a driver. Didn’t you hit a sorority mailbox last month?”

He’s silent for a moment. “We’re in philosophy class, you know. Most philosophers say that it’s ‘unwise to root yourself in the past’.”

You just blink at him, then roll your eyes again and slide your laptop into your bag. “That alone tells me everything I need to know.”

“Y’know, you’re really mean,” he pouts, and you have to fight off the urge to smile. Sometimes he was amusing, even though you didn’t want to admit it.

“I know. It’s one of my best traits,” you reply, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you in class.”

One week later, Gojo finally picks you up — that is, your shared Philosophy course ends and you both head to his car. You’ve both tossed your bags in the back and are sitting in the drive-through of a fast food place waiting on your coffees with you tapping away at your phone while he hands his card through the window so he can pay for the drinks you’d gotten along with his own.

He pulls forward after getting his card back, then brightens a little as he remembered the question he’d wanted to ask before he’d forgotten after asking if you wanted a drink.

“Do you want to type your address into my GPS so we can—“ Satoru starts, and his eyes widen when you interrupt him almost immediately.

“Not at my place. Never at my place, Gojo,” you snap, and he nods almost dumbly. He’d not expected you to be so stern about it, nor for you to deny him heading to your apartment or house or whatever ( especially considering his hookups typically didn’t care as long as they ended up with him in their bed. In the back of his mind an alarm bell rings, but he dumbly chose to ignore it.

“That’s — That’s fine, no problem, we can go to my place,” he replies, pushing a fake grin on his face. He watches you visibly relax back into the passenger seat, and relaxes himself before pulling up to the second window and taking your drinks. He hands you your drink then pulls away while sipping at his own Diet Coke, glancing at you every now and then as he drives back to his apartment rather than wherever you lived.

Part of him was nervous; he never really ever brought hookups back to his apartment — hell, he’d only brought like two of his prior girlfriends there, so this was a big break from his normal meet-up for sex. Still, he’d talked so much shit to Suguru when he’d said he’d manage to fuck you, so he couldn’t back out now.

He’d taken out the trash yesterday, right?

He pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, easing into his spot and putting the car in park before taking a breath and leaning back. You aren’t paying him any attention, still in your phone apparently texting someone from what he could see from the corner of his eye, and once you’re done you lock your phone before turning your body to face him in his seat.

You ask quietly, “Gojo… are you sure you want to do this?” and he pauses as he starts unclipping his seatbelt.

“Yeah, of course! Why would I, uh — Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, nodding with a smile. You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re acting nervous.” You deadpan, and he laughs.

“Nervous? I’m not nervous! Let’s fuck, babe,” he says brightly, opening his car door and hopping out as you shrug and unclip your own belt.

“…Don’t call me babe, but whatever. If you’re sure,” you say lazily, then add, “By the way, three of my friends know I came home with you, and I just dropped a location pin in a group chat, so… it’d be easier if you weren’t some creepo murderer.”

Satoru laughs again, this time actually amused. “That’s great, they’ll know the location of the best dick in Japan! Second floor.”

You scoff, but follow him up the stairs, stopping only as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and works on getting them in the lock. Eventually it pops into place, and you follow him inside, toeing off your shoes and following him quietly, eyeing him as he takes his loose coat off and tosses it on the back of his couch before following his lead to the bedroom. He lets you come in before turning to close the door, and is surprised when he turns and your shirt is already on the floor and you’re working on wiggling out of your tight skirt.

“I — oh! Like to do the work yourself, huh?” He jokes, and you scoff through a playful smile.

“Please. If we fuck and you just lay there, the entire campus will hear about it before midnight, I promise,” You reply. Satoru just grins.

“Who says we’ll be done by midnight?” He asks cheekily, and you laugh again.

“Gojo Satoru, it is two in the afternoon,” you say, and he laughs and starts unbuckling his belt.

“And?” he purrs, tossing it aside and kicking his pants away after they pool around his ankles, leaving his boxers on as you kick off your own skirt, leaving you in a mismatched bra and underwear set. He’s discovered he much prefers you this way — almost naked and ready to joke around with him — rather than the way you were cold and quiet in class. You actually seemed human here, and he was starting to understand why Suguru had said you were easy to be around; Satoru had thought he was lying just to fuck with him, but apparently you were typically this way in the bedroom and at parties after a few drinks. It was an interesting thing about you to learn in all honesty.

He presses his front to yours, wasting no time and dipping his head down to kiss you, mashing your lips together hard and his hands snake behind your back and unclip your bra at the same time that you slip the condom you’d taken out of your bra between your teeth and hook your thumbs in the waistband of his own underwear and push them down. He steps out of them as you stumble backwards towards his bed, leading him along before falling back with him on top of you, both of you still kissing.

You start to unwrap the condom. “You’re a good kisser,” you mumble into his mouth, reaching one hand down to shimmy out of your panties while the other tangles itself in his hair, tugging lightly. Once they’re over the edge of the bed they fall to your ankles and you just step out of them, reaching between your bodies and slipping the condom down his shaft with an experienced sort of ease that faintly amused him.

“Why the tone of surprise?” Satoru laughs, nipping at your bottom lip before starting to kiss a line down your throat, savoring the area over your pulse point as you let out soft, happy sighs.

“Mmm, kinda thought you’d have loser dick — but like, a real loser, not the sexy kind,” you reply honestly, and Satoru would have been offended if he wasn’t so fucking horny. He just laughs against your hot skin and keeps kissing, about to kneel when you tug him back up. “Don’t need your mouth on my cunt, need your cock in me,” you grunt, and Satoru barely chokes back the whimper that threatens to escape him.

“G-Gotta — Gotta prep you,” he argues as you reach between your bodies and grip his dick in an almost too-perfect grip.

“Prepped myself before class, and I’m plenty soaked,” you reply, pressing his head in. He doesn’t bother trying to hide the low groan that tumbles from his lips at the thought of you fingering open the hot cunt he was so close to, then sitting in class with him only a few seats away, ready and waiting for him to fill you. “Plus I enjoy the stretch. Don’t pussy out now, Gojo.”

“Stop calling me Gojo when I’m about to be balls deep in you,” Satoru growls, and you just laugh with a defiant glint in your eye.

“You gotta earn me saying your first name, loser boy,” you taunt, and he narrows his eyes before bottoming out in one go, watching in satisfaction as your eyes widen and your pupils blow further all at once… then the feeling hits.

“God, you’re fucking tight,” he groans, letting his head fall. “Fuckin’ hot too.”

“Don’t tell me slippin’ it in is gonna do it for you,” you whisper, and Satoru forces himself to pull out, his eyes squeezing shut at the perfect friction in the glide of his cock slipping out of you, before thrusting back in.

He starts a steady pumping of his hips, taking you over the edge of the bed like a beast on its bitch at a breeding bench. He can feel your nails digging into his back and scalp and it makes him make a tight fist in the sheets, soft moans falling from his mouth as he fucks into you desperately.

“F-Fuck — Oh god, Satoru, you fucking bastard-!” you moan, holding tight as he ruts into you, and he laughs breathlessly through a moan of his own.

“E-Earned it already?” he asks playfully, and you laugh through a moan yourself.

“Again, thought you were a real loser. Now shut up and keep fucking me,” your words come out in a low purr as you toss one arm around his neck, amd he busies himself with doing as told, not bothered by taking a command to fuck your willing body like this.

Soft groans of your name and his coupled with cursing and cries for God fill the room as the two of you fuck, your sweat and precum smearing across both of your bodies as you both get closer and closer to orgasm. “C’mon, just like that — gonna cum, gonna cum!” you whisper, and Satoru presses closer and keeps his pace and position the same, listening to the way your voice pitches. He’s been on the verge of cumming himself for the past fifteen minutes, but he’d be damned if he came before you the first time the two of you fucked — not when you still somehow thought he was a loser.

“Cum for me, babe, cum for me—“ he half-begs lowly, and you huff through a moan.

“What did I — did I say about calling me babe?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart — God, please, just fucking cum already!”

You laugh a little, a laugh that breaks apart like brittle ice at the end as your pussy starts clenching tightly around his cock and you dig your nails into his skin hard enough to leave marks. “Fuck — fuck, fuck — fuckfuckfuck, cumming-!”

Satoru’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him, and the sounds of your cries as you cum around have his own falling from his lips as he fills the condom wrapped around his cock and you slowly relax completely into the bed, unmoving aside from a couple stray twitches and a lazy hand against his chest to get him off of you. He falls bonelessly onto the bed next to you, tugging the condom off and tossing it into the trash can by his bed before returning to letting his legs dangle off of the side of bed with his feet flat against the floor like yours.

He waits a moment, enjoying the silence between you both before asking, “Well?”

You make a confused noise and turn to look at him. “Well what?” you ask, amd he chuckles.

“Am I a loser?” he asks cheekily, and you laugh brightly.

“Oh, definitely. Big loser energy from you, Satoru,” you reply.

“What?!” he exclaims, turning onto his side to look at you head on, and you laugh again and nod as you sit up and stretch with your arms over your head.

“Yep. But hey — you’re a loser with good dick,” you offer, standing on slightly wobbly legs, and start to get dressed.

“What a comfort,” he mutters, acting annoyed, and you see through it just as he knew you would.

“It should be,” you reply, zipping up your skirt then putting on the shirt you’d thrown over your forearm. “See you later, loser. My ride’s outside.”

Satoru’s quiet for a second, unused to girls just leaving, much less having already called cars to wait for them outside while he fucks them, “…Yeah, later…” And you’re out the door in less than five minutes with nothing but a wave and a yawn.

After a moment he stands and makes his way into the kitchen, peeping out the window to see you climb into the passenger side of a car driven by someone with short pink hair. He sighs.

The sex was good — but today did not go like he’d expected.

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 dropped a pin!

meet me at starbucks

i’m getting a coffee

then we can fuck or wtv

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌

why r u getting coffee at 9pm

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

don’t ask questions your tiny brain can’t understand the answers to

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

i literally only asked why ur getting coffee so late :(

ur so mean :((

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐒. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — 𝟎𝟗.𝟐𝟐𝐏𝐌

and yet u still like to fuck me?? lmfao loser

Satoru throws his phone down on the passenger’s side seat, pouting with a huff and drumming his fingers against the top of the steering wheel as he slowly follows the line of traffic towards the Starbucks you’d pin dropped, and he sees you before you see him. You’re texting someone, a large coffee in hand, and you look… happy. Satoru didn’t think he’d ever actually seen you smile a real smile before, not in class when you’d ignored him for months before he’d proposed being fuckbuddies and not even during the last couple months that the two of you had been hooking up. Every now and then in between fucking each other he’d catch you gazing down at your phone with a fond look in your eyes, but he didn’t really ask about it anymore; you always dodged his questions, and it always led to you being in a foul mood and leaving him. He learned quickly to just… not say anything and let you do your own thing so he could empty his balls and you stay happy and with him.

Stay with him? God, what was the matter with him? He sounded like a clingy high-schooler, desperate to keep their first relationship. No, he was supposed to sleep with you once, get off, then go laugh about it with Suguru — not… whatever he was doing. It had been six months, why was he still here — fuck, who was he kidding? Satoru knew exactly why he was still here: he liked you. A lot.

He’s in too deep, and now he can’t back out.

You open the passenger side door, disrupting him from his thoughts. “Hmm, on time as usual. Desperate, huh?” you ask, sipping at your coffee, and it takes everything in Satoru to scoff at your words and start up the car as you clip on your seatbelt, because the answer was yes. He is desperate. He wants you, wants to hold your hand and take photos with you and brag about how beautiful you are to Suguru and his other friends, and wants for the world to know that you were each other’s partner. He wants to kiss you, not in the sloppy way that left your lipstick smeared across your face as he fucked into you, but softly and slowly so you can tell with each tiny shift how much he loves you. Yeah, you’re mean to him, you make fun of him all the damn time — but god, does he fucking like it.

It’s a slow, careful motion when he reaches a hand over to first grasp at your thigh before moving over ever so slightly to hold your hand as he drives, and a pang bounces through his chest as you immediately tug your hand away and turn away from him.

He doesn’t try to touch you again for the rest of the car ride, and before he knows it he’s once again back at his apartment, the motions of making his way to the bedroom with you at his back all a blur. You’re on him before he can remind himself to breathe as the sight of you bare and vulnerable before him takes his breath away as it always does — but you aren’t vulnerable, are you? You’re closed off, all sharp corners and twisted smiles, but maybe — just maybe — he’s blunting them a bit.

“O-Oh God — oh, fuck-!” Satoru whimpers softly, his thick eyelashes fluttering as he fists his hands in the sheets beneath him while you bounce on his cock, tiny gasps falling from your lips as you swallow up all of his thick length. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as drowns in the sensations of your sopping cunt taking him entirely, his fat tip slamming against your cervix with each rough drop down.

“Fuck yes, Satoru!” You hiss sharply, clenching around him and digging your nails into his shoulders. “Y’fill me up so fuckin’ good, ‘Toru-!”

“Yes, yes — fuckfuckfuck, c’mon!” Satoru whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours as they drop down harshly. “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart, so fuckin’ wet!”

Lewd wet noises and the slapping of bare flesh along with the crude banging of his headboard against the walk fill the bedroom, mixing with the sounds falling from your lips, as well as his. Satoru sits up, wrapping and arm around your middle as yours instinctively loop around his shoulders, your lips catching his in a searing kiss that sends a fond warmth from his mouth all the way down to his toes.

“God, yes,” you moan into his mouth, “So fuckin’ good, Satoru — don’t stop, don’t stop-!”

“Won’t, can’t, won’t stop!” Satoru promises through a moan of his own, a deep groan following it triggered by the feeling of your tongue running along his. His fingers dig into your skin hard enough to bruise as you tear your mouth away from his in order to latch onto his neck and bite down, nipping and kissing and sucking as his head falls back in time with the feeling of the soft heat kindling in his belly start growing hotter and hotter. “F-Fuck — damn it, m’gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Satoru,” you whine sharply, and he whimpers a little.

“B-But you-?” he starts, his words devolving into a garbled moan as you pick up the pace.

“I’m close too — c’mon, ‘Toru, cum with me!” You plead softly, and Satoru needs no further prodding. He clings to you tightly as he starts cumming, his own fingernails digging into your skin as his hips buck up messily into your welcoming hips with each new burst of cum. Your voice pitches in the way he knows it does during your own orgasm, and he forces the haze away just enough so that he can look at you and watch you fall apart on his lap.

God, you’re beautiful.

The two of you bask in the moment for about ten minutes before you finally end it, pulling away and staggering into the bathroom in the hallway to piss. Satoru sighs and tosses the condom in the trash can after tying it off, falling back against his bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. He can hear you come back into the bedroom, can hear you moving around, assumingly so you can no doubt be ready to leave again — which is why he’s surprised at the feeling of the blankets beneath him being thrown back and the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

He stares at you in surprise as you begin making yourself comfortable, fluffing your pillow and finding the spot on the side of the bed you’d chosen before you finally catch him staring. “Go to sleep, Gojo,” you mutter, shimmying around beneath the blankets as you try to get comfortable in a technically strange bed.

His eyes widen in half-wanting shock. “You’re staying the night?” Satoru asks hopefully, and you sigh.

“I’m tired,” you reply simply. “Now go to sleep.”

Sayoru nods wildly, his heart pounding. You were staying the night — you were staying. With him. “Yeah… yeah! Okay. Sleep. I can do that!”

You nod tiredly. “Good,” you say, amd you click off the lamp on the nightstand next to you as Satoru does the same. An odd silence fills the room as Satoru follows your previous motions of getting ready to rest before finally getting comfortable under the blankets.

He rolls over to rest on his side, staring at the way you lay with your back to him. “…Goodnight,” Satoru murmurs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours. It doesn’t sting as harshly as before when you move your hand away, considering you do allow him to drap his arm over your waist while pressing his chest to your back. You’re silent for a moment, but you do eventually respond as his warmth begins to seep into you.

“…Goodnight, Satoru,” you say, and he hums drowsily.

You’re both asleep within fifteen minutes. Neither of you comment on how well the two of your bodies slot together outside of sex.

It’s 1am when Satoru wakes up, his vision blurry and the red numbers on his bedside clock more aggressive than he remembered.

Blearily he pats the mattress behind himself, wondering why he’d turned away from you in his sleep, and finds nothing but cool sheets, which leads him to rolling over. He’s startled, almost certain he’ll find the bathroom light on in the hallway, but no — it’s darker than he’d like, even at twenty-three, and you’re not here. Snatching up his cellphone, a quick scan of it tells him all he needs to know.

You left him.

Again.

Three days later, Satoru finds himself parked in front of the dining hall on campus, waiting for you to come out, likely followed by one or two of your friends. After waiting about ten minutes, you do just that — only you’re walking closer to an older man in a suit than he for some reason felt comfortable with, and he moves around in his seat a little to get comfortable while watching your interactions with the man with narrowed eyes. He grits his teeth for a moment when the man touches your arm in a too-casual way, then crosses his own when he sees you smile at him. The two of you stop on the sidewalk several paces from his car, then finally split off.

“So… Who was that old guy?” he asks as you slip into the passenger seat, and you pause as you put your bag in the backseat. He doesn’t want to just foolishly believe that you’re genuinely confused, but he also doesn’t want to think ill of you without reason, so he ‘decides’ to withhold judgment for now.

“What?” you ask, confused, and he sighs in blatant annoyance.

“The old guy. The one you were literally just talking to,” he grouses. “The one who was getting so touchy.”

“‘Old guy’ — wait, the blond?” You ask, almost in a shocked way, and he nods. You snort; Satoru doesn’t know what’s so funny. “That was professor Kento — my History professor,” you reply, and Satoru can feel his cheeks heat up a little, but he refuses to look at you as you start laughing.

“Oh my god! You were fucking jealous of Professor Kento?!” you giggle, and while he’s embarrassed he can’t deny that he enjoys the sound, even if it was at his own expense. What the hell was wrong with him? “That’s so fucking wild — like c’mon man, we aren’t even dating. If I wanted to fuck Professor Kento, it wouldn’t even fucking matter.” A lump settles in Satoru’s throat at your words.

Yes, it would.

“But… you aren’t, right?” Satoru asks carefully as he pulls the car out of park, and you sigh.

“No, Satoru. I’m not going to fuck my History professor.” you say softly, blatantly amused, but it’s too late now — Satoru’s upset, and he can’t stop the words from coming out.

“Because I just — I don’t want anyone else with you like me, y’know?” he asks, almost paranoid. He fails to notice the way you stiffen next to him and forges on, his heartbeat quickening as his panic picks up. “It’s just — really like you. Like a lot. And it scares me. But it doesn’t scare me enough to not want you to myself, you know? I just want you and want to be with you and—“

“Take me home.”

Satoru pauses. “W-What?” he asks, uncertain of the icy tone you’d taken on when interrupting him.

“My address is in your GPS,” you say quietly, then repeat yourself. “Take me home.”

“But-“ Satoru whispers, but you shake your head almost violently.

“Now. Or I’ll walk,” you threaten lowly, and that’s all it takes for him to listen. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence until he reaches your apartment. You’re out of the car before he can say your name, and he’s following you before he can even ask himself why.

He’s right behind you as you go into your kitchen, watching in surprise as you pull out a large bottle of wine from the fridge while simultaneously throwing open a cabinet next to the refrigerator in order to pull out a wine glass. You pull the cork out, fill the glass, and empty it in one go before refilling it again.

Tentatively, Satoru says, “Please, I just — I think I’m in love with you. Can’t we talk about this?” and you laugh borderline hysterically.

“And say what?! What do you expect of me, Gojo?” you ask, your tone harsh enough to make him flinch, but he answers you anyway.

“I… I want you to be my girlfriend,” he says softly, feeling smaller than he ever had before.

You laugh again, this time less hysterically and more in disbelief. “No,” You say, and Satoru blinks in shock.

“What? N-No?” He asks, voice shaky.

“No!” you snap icily, turning back to your wine. You empty your glass again as Satoru begins to reflect on the situation at hand; it’s bitterly ironic, the deja vū he’s feeling. This conversation is brutally close to the first time he’d asked you out all those months ago with the sole goal in mind being getting in your pants and ditching you, whether that meant hurting you in the process or not. How poetically cruel ( and simultaneously deserved ) that he’s the one hurt in the end.

“Can I ask why?” he finally asks, and you turn around tk face him again, your eyes wild and cold.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you growl, and he lifts his hands in surrender while nodding in agreement.

“I know that, I just—“ Satoru swallows hard. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Do something wrong? God, Gojo, yes! You asked me to be your fucking girlfriend — I literally said before we ever fucked that you couldn’t catch feelings, what is wrong with you?!

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his chest filled with a stabbing pain he’d nkt ever expected to experience while in your company.

“What does that matter now?! This thing we’ve been doing is over,” you mutter, taking a long drink of your wine. Satoru’s eyes widen exponentially, and the panic begins to set in anew.

“Over?!” he exclaims, shaking his head a little, and you scoff.

“Of course it’s over!” You snap angrily, pointing at him accusingly. “You ruined it! Feelings were never supposed to be involved!”

Satoru wilts completely.

“I’m sorry,” he says, just as quietly as before, and you sigh audibly as you lean against the counter.

“An apology won’t fix this,” you say bitterly. Satoru wants to argue, wants to assure you that he can be good and do better, that the two of you don’t have to stop seeing each other, but he’s instead startled when the door to the entry hall opens without warning, and he spins to glance at the doorway like whoever came in is intruding as you groan and cross your arms after putting down your wine, covering your eyes with one hand at the same time.

“C’mon Yuuji, kick your shoes off under the coat rack,” a deep voice rumbles, and a man with pink hair strolls in like he owns the place. Satoru would be extremely alarmed if you’d seemed so yourself, but you made no move to react, apparently used to the man being in your apartment. “I’m gonna grab a beer from the kitchen and see if she’s home yet.” His eyebrows raise with ill-concealed interest when he finally lays them on Satoru. “And who are you?”

“Who are you?” Satoru parrots quietly, a sickening feeling twisting his stomach as his mind thinks up just what scenario could lead to a random man in your apartment — but was he random?

Roommates. Please, please just be roommates, Satoru finds himself begging in his kind, though no one could hear him.

“I’m one of the two people on the lease of this apartment, and the boyfriend of the woman behind you,” the man says, narrowing his eyes; a jolt of nausea stabs through Satoru’s stomach. “I’ll ask again: who are you?”

“He’s no one, Sukuna,” you mutter, sounding annoyed. Yet another sharp pain shocks through Satoru’s chest, and he turns back to look at you in disbelief as you walk past him and wrap your arms around Sukuna’s waist, hugging him. Your voice is muffled by his chest when you say, “Welcome home, baby,” and he kisses the crown of your head and you let go, drifting over to the younger looking ( also very confused and clearly a little uncomfortable ) boy who resembles ‘Sukuna’. “C’mon Yuuji, help me set up the new console Sukuna and I got last Friday.”

The teenager follows without hesitation, the awkwardness on his face from the odd altercation fading as he starts talking to you excitedly about some boy in his Biology II class he thinks is cute, and suddenly Satoru is left alone with Sukuna. The other man is staring at him, and it's making him uncomfortable.

“Y’slept with her?” he asks finally, and again Satoru is startled. He just slowly nods, and Sukuna shrugs and moves past him to the fridge, fishing out a beer and popping the top off before taking a large swig. “No big deal. You’re not the first she’s run around with.”

Satoru’s startled all over again. “You… don’t care?”

“Oh, I absolutely care! I’ll have you know I’m a damn jealous man — but I know I’ve got nothing to worry about,” Sukuna chuckles, looking completely unbothered as he shrugs again. “She’s my woman after all — has been since junior high.” He laughs, takes another drink, and continues while making his way over to the bottle of wine and the half empty glass she’d left on the counter. “Hell, she even officially adopted my kid brother with me when our grandfather died last year — Pretty sure she and I are set.”

Satoru feels sick, and he wants to go home. He understands now, he realizes that he never had a claim to your heart at all. God, he was an idiot.

Sukuna hums slightly in thought, tipping his head to the side ever so slightly. “Her sleeping around every now and then makes the sex better though. Every now and then we’ll agree we wanna spice things up, and she’ll pick some poor idiot to fuck. It makes me angry, gets me all jealous and possessive, and since we both love it when I fuck her like I hate her — even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth — it’s a double win.”

“So you just — you cheat on each other just to boost your sex?” Satory asks, completely in disbelief. Sukuna just scoffs and shakes his head, knocking back the rest of his beer before chasing it with the remnants of what you had left in your wine glass before crossing his arms.

“Nah, she’s it for me — never been interested in anyone else. Besides, I know she’ll always come back to me. She’s proven that today, hasn’t she?”

That stung — but he wasn’t wrong. You had proven yourself to your boyfriend again, and Satoru looked like nothing but a fool.

“Go home, Gojo,” Sukuna finally says, finally sounding annoyed. It seems his patience with Satoru being in his home has run as thin as possible. “She’s never going to love you, so leave. There’s nothing for you here.”

Absently Satoru wonders how Sukuna could possibly know his name when he’d never given it, until he registers that Sukuna must have known the entire time who he was because you’d told him about him, and didn’t that just make it worse? He’d been an idiot, had been so damn sure that you’d love him back.

Fuck. Just like before, Gojo Satoru was not nervous.

He was heartbroken instead.

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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steddielations · 4 months

Text

Upstaged | Part 2 | Part 1

It all makes sense.

When Eddie comes back from taking photos with the fans, he looks a little sheepish for the first time. Steve has about a million things to ask, mostly he just wants to laugh about the fucking odds, but he remembers the grace Eddie extended to him about the press ordeal.

Instead, he settles back with his lime soda and a simple question, “So, what kind of music are you into?”

A grateful smile breaks out across Eddie’s face, ecstatic to dive into that with Steve. Their lunch extends into dinner. Steve doesn’t have anywhere to be these days and Eddie practically jumps up and down when the meeting he was in the area for gets canceled. They stay there for a couple more hours, just talking.

Their music taste overlaps at certain points, Eddie talks about how getting his first guitar from the pawn shop pretty much saved him, Steve recounts a little league story that makes Eddie laugh so hard he chokes on his soda.

It’s the most monumentally casual time Steve’s ever had with a new friend in public and he’s not ready for it to end. Even after exchanging numbers and promising to meet up again, they still linger together outside.

“So uh, I remember where I know you from now."

Eddie leans against the side of the building. It’s getting dark, they’re tucked away from any eyes so Steve freely scoots closer to Eddie, waiting for him to explain. He does after a moment, seeming nervous and fiddling with his rings.

“I hate to ask, but my Uncle is huge into baseball, especially you and your general all-around-awesome thing. There weren’t players like you to look up to when he was young, all that. I’ve seen you on his tv so many times, you’re basically part of the family— ah shit, that’s weird, sorry,” he cringes a little, scrunching his nose in a way that makes Steve’s chest clench with affection, “But he’s getting old and like I said earlier, he’s my rock, he raised me and I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least ask you to come see him sometime.”

The way he rambles is pretty endearing, looking at Steve with a wide-eyed hopeful expression, as if there was even a chance Steve would say no.

He reaches out, gently takes Eddie’s hand to stop his restless fidgeting, “You want me to meet your folks already, hm?”

Eddie lets out an amused scoff, looking down at their hands and back at Steve like he can’t believe it. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Steve.”

Steve knits his brows, “Why’s that?”

“C’mon man. Y’know how hard it is to find someone who can handle this lifestyle, let alone all the shit that comes with me,” shaking his head a little, Eddie smiles but there’s something aching in it, “Then the nicest looking guy I’ve ever seen comes outta nowhere and saves my life, agrees to go to lunch, happens too know as well as me that life in the limelight ain’t always pretty and turns out to be one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

His fingers thread through Steve’s, holding tight like he’s not sure it’s real. “Even if I never see you again, I’m gonna write songs about you. I’d take you home and keep you right now if I could, but that’s not happening.”

There’s a part of Steve he’s kept shut down for years that comes pumping through his veins then, hot and alive. He realizes that he’s been trying so hard to keep his life as normal as possible that he’s been missing out on actually living it. Now he has this wonderful, crazy, wonderful man spontaneously in front of him and he’s not letting him slip away.

Steve moves in, slowly crowding Eddie against the wall. Eddie’s eyes go a little wide with surprise then darken with desire. Steve watches his face shift through so many emotions, his mouth parting with a soft gasp, wanting this just as badly as Steve.

“Wanna bet?” Steve asks before he crashes into Eddie again.

This time it’s a hot press of lips instead of a full-body collision, but it’s just as breathtaking.

Steve deepens the kiss, thrill prickling all across his skin when Eddie opens up for him right away. Steve licks passed the bright hint of lime on their tongues to get to Eddie. The heady taste of him makes Steve’s world spin, all the desperate noises between them going straight to his head.

“Want you so bad, Eddie, wanna keep you too,” he threads his fingers into all that hair, reveling in the shiver it elicits from Eddie, “God, just wanna have you.”

Eddie chases his lips, “You can, Steve, you can have me— please do.”

Steve loves the sound of that, going in for a longer, more indulgent kiss before pulling back.

“You can’t take me home tonight,” he professes hotly against Eddie’s lips, “My place is closer, you’re coming with me.”

#and at some point eddie admits that he's jerked off to steve's magazine covers before #might keep this going we'll see #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #famous eddie munson #famous steve harrington #rueswriting

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gamermattsgf · 4 months

Text

Cherry popper // nerd Matt p.2

Warnings: heavy smut / mommy!kink (duh) / doggy style / glasses kink / praise kink / sub!matt x dom reader / back shot / degradation kink… kinda / masturbation / hair pulling

Summary: you and Matt are trying to do one of your homework assignments, until Matt finds himself painfully distracted by thoughts of your body instead of thoughts of the equations on the sheets of paper in front of him.

Author’s notes: GUYS!! I am actually so insanely grateful for all of the love you have given me from the moment I started publishing on here. The fact that so many people have wanted a part 2 for this is unbelievable to me fr. Also the fact that the original has almost 1,000 notes is actually fucking insane wtf?? I always wake up everyday and smile at all of the lovely comments/requests people send to me and I couldn’t be happier that people enjoy my stuff, it just makes me motivated to write more hehe. But anyways, after a long and PAINFUL wait, finally, here is your part 2 of Cherry popper Matt <3

“You’ve got me nervous to speak… so I just won’t say anything at all” - Nervous, The Neighbourhood

‘Okay so what about the vector analysis in this problem? How do I solve it?’

You get no response in return.

‘Matt?’

You turn your head to look over at him from your position sat on the floor, a pencil twiddling in between your thumb and fore finger. The notepad open in front of you details Matt’s pen marks from where he had written out the equations of your assignment for you to solve before your tutor lesson this afternoon.

It has been a good deal of weeks since your first session, and each time Matt has come to your house you have taught him something new.

Fingering. Head. Mutual masturbation.

Last week you took his virginity. It was simple. Missionary. But ever since then something has changed within Matt. He’s gotten needier, more eager for you. A text message every hour or so, asking about your lessons. You never tell him what you’re planning though, you like to keep it a surprise for him.

Evidently though, the thought of what you do at the end of each one seems to distract him. It keeps him on the edge of his seat and fiddling about until he’s instructed to get on the bed. Which he does now with a fast pace and happy smiles on his lips each time. You really like Matt.

‘Matt? Are you even listening to me?’

He hums questioningly. ‘Oh uh yeah… sorry wha-what did you say?’. His eyes blink in confusion, as if every word of your voice had gone in one ear and out through the other.

You purse your lips, smiling cheekily at him and shaking your head. Matt catches on as soon as you give him a look that you know why he’s distracted, so his cheeks go pink and he shyly flits his eyes to the floor. You raise your eyebrows and he does a double take.

‘I’m sorry… I can’t help it…’ he peeps, before lifting one of his hands to shift them underneath his glasses. He rubs his eyes, as if embarrassed with himself, before dropping his hand back down and bravely glancing up at you. ‘Poor baby… Thinking about my body instead of my assignment. Matt you naughty boy…’ You tease, and Matt whines pitifully.

‘Don’t say that!’ He shakes his head, trying to act as if he feels physically repulsed by you calling him a naughty boy. But you know he loves it. Just last week he was thrusting his cock into you slickly, whining from above you to praise him and call him a good boy as he did so, his mouth hung open with pants and his hands greedily gripping your headboard to help his hips move. Just as you had instructed him to do.

‘Who’s going to help me finish it now?’ You feign sadness. Matt humphs. ‘I am… I’m sorry. Please I won’t get distracted again, please mommy I’ll help you!’ He begs worthlessly, sitting up from his position sprawled out on his side on your carpet. He leans himself up onto his hands and knees, now used to just calling you mommy like second nature. You didn’t even have to ask him.

‘But baby… you’re already hard. How could you possibly help me in that sort of state?’. Matt’s face falls into a frown and he squirms about uncomfortably, the obvious bulge in his jeans now the topic of conversation. ‘I- I can do it!’ He argues back, his voice wobbling but trying to be defiant.

‘No you can’t Matt.’ You patronise him in response, knowing that there is no way he’s going to be able to sit through any more of this tutor session without feeling uncomfortable and groaning lowly after every time the harsh seam of his jean’s zipper rubs against his sensitive cock. You know how prone to pleasure he is.

‘If we get rid of your problem will you promise to concentrate and help me afterwards puppy?’.

Sighing and getting up, your eyes keep trained on Matt whilst his head snaps up to now fully bask in your attention, the slightest mention of you touching his cock and him getting fed with more sexual pleasure rilling him up. You walk over slowly, before you stop right in front of him.

He finds it strange really, that now he gets more excited about your touch than teasing out a good math equation. He perks up with a curling smile on his face, his eyes dreamy and sparkling. Nodding his head as quickly as he can he bumbles an awkward ‘yes- yes of course… please’.

You smirk and tip your chin down at the way Matt lies on his knees before you. Reaching up one of your hands, you push it into his hair, combing it back and folding it into the rest of his crashing brown waves. He moans happily in content at the feeling of your nails scratching against his scalp, tipping his chin up and looking at you like a baby doe who’s just learnt to walk.

‘Well, you know what I’m gonna say then…’ you laugh through your smile at his inexperienced, soft nature. ‘Yes mommy…’ he obediently nods and coos up to you in a mumbled voice, before leaning up so that he can stand to his full height. He waddles with his padding feet over to your bed, a place where he’s now left a permanent imprint every Sunday, when only the two of you are in the house and left to your own devices.

‘Hmm… think it may be a little too early to use any of my…’. You struggle to find the words for all of the miscellaneous items hidden within your wardrobe. ‘…toys’. Matt sits on the bed and waits patiently for his next command whilst listening in to your debate between yourself. ‘And I’m not in the mood to do all of the work today… so seeing as you’re the one who interrupted our tutor session because you just couldn’t wait, then I suppose it should be you doing the work’.

Matt winces at your scolding nature, before shuffling up the mattress a little further. He smiles guiltily and nods. ‘I guess that’s only fair’. You hum, looking at Matt’s fluffed hair and the glasses that slide sweetly off of his nose. Every time he has to push them back up to the bridge of it in class you have to squeeze your thighs together, because you know how much of a little slut he really is. The glasses are just a front in your opinion, it doesn’t matter how innocent they make him look, he’s still always pussy drunk for you at the end of the day and it fills you with such power.

‘Why don’t we step it up from missionary a little then?’ You finally decide, crawling onto the bed yourself and slithering over to a Matt that gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing and practically asking you to make a meal out of his exposed neck. He already has the sheets gripped within his fists, how adorable.

‘Step it up?’ He asks confusedly, his eyebrows furrowing. But you ignore him, and instead swing your legs so that you can straddle his lap, his stiff cock already pressing thickly up into your clothed core. You clutch his jaw and tilt his neck upwards, his breathing thick and laboured with anticipation.

‘Kisses for mommy?’ You mumble and tilt your head with a questioning sensuality that almost has Matt drooling within a trance. He nods, his eyes looking a little spaced out but your lips soon coming to mesh together. It reminds you of the first time you both made out, and similarly, you slowly begin to rock your hips. He pants at the friction, and knuckles tentatively at the bottom of your t-shirt.

‘I like mommy kisses…’ he mumbles delicately in between the brush of your lips, his tongue feathering out to lick into your mouth as you continuously comb back his hair, gripping and pulling on it playfully. You break away from him to rub your thumb against his cheek. He looks up at you and blinks, his mouth dropped and his lips juicy like swollen cherries after being sucked on.

‘More please’ he whimpers, and lurches forward to reconnect your lips. At this point, you decide to lean forward, making Matt’s back fall onto the mattress.

Lying all of your weight on top of him, he sneaks his hands down to squeeze around your hipbones, his fingers nervously travelling to your ass next so that he can keep you grinding above him as you kiss. But you open your eyes through the kiss when feeling the sensation of his digits.

‘Did I say you could touch that puppy?’ You chide him, and Matt’s hands freeze their descent. He snaps his eyes open and pulls himself away with a pout, your breaths mingling and your noses almost brushing.

He looks as if he’s about to cry at getting into trouble, and swallows thickly before feeding his bottom lip into his bitten teeth. He tries to embarrassedly suppress a moan, thinking that it’s not the right time to release one at the rub of your cunt against him. You smirk when his back arches in helplessness, his cheeks red as he stutters ‘sorry… I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t help it’.

Shaking your head in amusement, you listen to the way his breath hitches when you slip your hands up his shirt, tickling your cold fingertips up his stomach so that you can circulate his sensitive nipples.

‘That’s okay baby boy, I know you’re frustrated. Shall we get these clothes off?’ Matt nods frantically, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes closed whilst he focusses on his breathing.

Both of your clothes come off at lighting pace, Matt practically ripping to get to the supple skin of your body. After he does, his hands are babyishly squeezing anywhere, himself now comfortable enough in his sexual ability to be brave. Both of you lie sprawled out majestically on your bed, groping at each other like feverish teenagers in heat whilst the exchange of tongues between the two of you is messy and sloppy.

Matt cannot get enough of kissing you, he throbs at the feeling of your tongue twisting with his, his naked lower half now grinding subconsciously into your bedcovers. You slap his arm at this though and he hissed slightly, pulling away and looking at you offensively.

‘Puppy don’t do that, you’ll make a mess of my sheets with how much you’re leaking’. He looks down shamefully, whining because he knows he can’t help it. ‘M’sorry! I just really need you- I-‘ he starts to apologise but you shush him quietly by pressing your pointer finger into his lips. ‘I know you do baby boy… I want you to do some revision first though’.

He blinks and nods hesitantly, yourself shuffling up to the end of the bed so that you can spread your legs in front of him, still only in your underwear. After teasing him out of all of his clothes and leaving him feeling vulnerable and bare, you had decided to keep your panties on. It drives him insane when you do that, to know that he is in more of a submissive position than you.

‘How wet do you think you can get me baby?’ You drawl, and watch as Matt’s shoulders heave after crawling up to you with his cock red and stiff. ‘Dripping?’ You add on, and Matt nods his head confidently.

He reaches out his knuckles to graze them gently against your clothed heat and you hiss at the faintest of his caresses. ‘I’d do anything to get you off…’ he breathes, before pressing his thumb into your clit, rubbing it like how you showed him. Your breath hitches as you feel your centre pool hungrily, you folds dampening and getting hotter the more pressure he adds.

Your back arches. How could someone look so innocent and naive whilst performing something so unholy?

‘Can I- can I see your tits please mommy?’ Matt shyly asks whilst playing with your clit over your clothed sensitivity. You nod. ‘Of course you can sweet boy. Well done for asking so nicely baby’. Matt smiles in achievement at this, loving the praise freely gifted to him for the most simplest of tasks.

He struggles to not moan at the sight of you unclipping your lacy set to let your tits rest on your chest freely, your nipples hardened and mouthwatering. You watch the way his eyes hypnotically flick from one to the other and you smirk. ‘Like that baby? You wanna make me feel good now? Make mommy happy?’.

He lurches forward to kiss you once again, dipping his tongue leisurely into your mouth to taste you as he pleasures your clit with the pad of his finger. This makes your legs spread even further.

‘Please- I’m ready to make you feel full now’ he eagerly states through a bite of your lips, and you hum in satisfaction. ‘It’s time for your next lesson then’. You press your hands onto Matt’s pecs and push his mouth away from yours so that you can fully look him in the eyes. ‘Ever thought about doggy style before?’.

Matt furrows his eyes in confusion. ‘Well um… no, not really’.

‘Well that’s what we’re doing today, let’s get you on top of me, real nice and easy’.

You push him backwards and he falls onto his behind. You then swing forwards and spit directly onto his cock. He lets out a strangled pant at this and watches as you wrap your hand around the very base of his throbbing prick. ‘F-fuck’ his voice rags out and he closes his eyes with his head rolling back.

‘I’m going to get on my hands and knees, and then you’re going to come up behind me alright?’ You start to instruct him whilst pumping him slowly. He finds it difficult to focus at times because your hand feels so good, but he gets the rough picture of what you want him to do in his head.

‘O-okay’ he whimpers. You stop touching him and then crawl onto your hands and knees in front of him. ‘Go and take off my panties then puppy’ you tease him, making fun of the way he’s so hesitant to do anything. You then feel Matt’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he timidly slides them from off of the curves of your asscheeks. They fall to the mattress around your knees and you clench when you feel the weight of Matt behind you.

The bedsheets crinkle underneath his knees and his warm stomach soon presses against your back. You feel his chest up your spine as he lies over you whilst his bigger hands come to splay down at the outer edges of yours. You look at his popping veins and tendons hungrily before taking in a shaky breath. It’s nice to ache at the feeling of his dominant position, because his heavy masculine difference makes you so fucking horny.

‘Good boy.’

You feel Matt’s stomach clench in approval at the nickname. ‘What now?’ He questions innocently, and you have to smirk once again at just how adorably clueless he is. ‘Now, you fuck me.’ You bluntly muse. Matt falters for a second. ‘Oh right-’ he laughs nervously.

‘Go on baby boy, give me your cock’ you encourage him. At this sudden permission, Matt thrusts his hips forward. You feel him shuffle around before his throbbing tip is pressed into your slickness. He moans throatily after pushing up into you, stretching you out and stuffing your walls full of him. Your breaths are equally as laboured when you feel him throbbing into you, his shaky torso wobbling and trying to keep himself steady above you.

‘That’s it baby’ you coo.

He starts to fuck his hips into you at a slowed and lazy pace. You feel his hot breaths on the shell of your ear as he pants, the bed squeaking below you two erotically at the motion of your bodies.

‘A-am I doing a good job mommy?’ He peeps, wanting to eke out as much praise from you as he possibly can. ‘Yes. Very very good Matt, well done’ you respond back, almost choking on your breath from how good it feels. You feel him right in your gut, just the perfect sort of length to drive you fucking insane.

He whines petulantly.

‘Please! Please call me a good boy, please, m’desperate’. Your legs spread further to let him in more whilst his hips slap against your ass roughly. Your stomach clenches as you groan slightly when his prick presses into exactly the right spot. With your elbows buckling, your head falls into the mattress, Matt keeping a hold of you by possessively grappling onto your waist with his calloused hands.

‘You are a good boy Matt… treating me so well, treating me like a fucking princess’. He smiles happily through his aggressive whimpers, speeding up his hips. ‘Touch my clit baby… I want my orgasm’ you then demand, stabilising yourself onto just one of your elbows so that your other hand can reach back to grab his and pull it forward.

You slip his fingers in between your dripping folds and begin to help him circulate your clit before you deem him competent enough to do it himself.

‘Ugh my glasses…’ Matt moans ‘they’re- they’re gonna fall off’. His glasses slip down his nose and then off the hooks of his ears. His rosy cheeks blush when they patter to the mattress right in front of both of your hands. He feels embarrassed that he’d railed you into the bed so hard that his glasses had fallen off, but you only grinned at this.

Snatching up the glasses yourself, you do exactly the thing that you know will drive Matt crazy. You slip them onto your own nose and push them up to the bridge.

At this, Matt throbs and your walls suck around him. Your orgasm comes so fast after this that you barely have any time to think about announcing it.

You press your face into the mattress and moan as Matt helps you ride your waves of pleasure out, your thighs quivering and your mouth hung wide open. ‘Can I cum inside of you please mommy?! Y’feel- you feel so fucking good’.

But you don’t let him. Instead, you shake your head and move forwards, falling out of him and flopping directly onto your stomach. ‘Be my good boy and finish on my back instead’. Matt whines but obeys, knowing that if he doesn’t he’ll be punished. He wraps his fist around his wet thickness and begins to stroke himself quickly. His hot skin slips over his hand easily and he whimpers and pants when his cum creams out of his tip. It leaks and splatters all over your back and you smile in exhaustion after he finishes completely, his own exhausted breaths wracking his own body.

Flopping onto the bed next to you, he calms, his spent length satisfied and both of your orgasms soothing over your sexual frustration.

His baby blue eyes softly scan over your face, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smile in adoration at the way you look with his squint glasses resting on your face. You look so gentle and so kind, and he almost wants you to keep the glasses for yourself just so that he can see you with them on every day. If only he didn’t need them for reading.

‘So… time for homework?’ You mumble.

Matt giggles with a toothy grin.

‘Time for homework’.

Author’s notes p.2: @lovingmattysposts … you don’t have to hold your breath anymore gf, I gotchu. I definitely felt the pressure with writing this one that’s for sure, bc so many people have wanted a part 2, so hopefully I’ve done nerd Matt justice. Also I am SO sorry if I accidentally missed out anyone who wanted to be on the tag list, there were quite a few names and I don’t have the best of memories lol. Thank you so much for giving me and my writing the time of day. It literally means the whole world to me :) P.S. Aww? Such a cutie pie little moment at the end wtf??

Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @strniohoeee @asturniolos @thesturniolos @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @chr1sgirl4life @kvtie444 @ellie-luvsfics @reidsween @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniolololover @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo

#matt sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #mommy k!nk #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

Text

Danny accidentally appearing out of Duke's shadow. And doing it purposely every time after that. ; requested by @kyrianclawraith! (deviated from your original prompt a bit, sorry! the ghostlights brainworms got away from me)

Traveling through shadows has become second nature for Duke after using them so extensively over the years. He even uses them as a civilian, hopping between shadows when he’s running late to class so he doesn’t have to stress out over traffic.

Not even Batman’s scoldings can stop him from making it on time to his classes. Risks need to be taken for the sake of his education!

The shadows are comforting. They hide him from sight, get him to where he needs to go, and gives him the alone time he needs when he��s been around people for too long and desperately needs some quiet to recharge. Duke would say that he’s well versed in the shadows at this point, no longer stumbling out into the light.

Even with all his practice and confidence, he still can’t prepare himself for tripping over someone in the shadows while he’s trying to escape some of The Riddler’s goons.

They both go tumbling out of the shadows, landing in a corner hidden by storage shelves. The poor tripping hazard of a person is under him, groaning lightly as he reaches up to press a hand to the back of his head, where he hit the concrete floor.

“Oh, shit,” Duke whispers, “I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was hiding,” the guy hisses back at him. “I wanted to get out of the rain and dozed off and when I woke up, guns were being shot! I was up in the rafters, so excuse me for thinking no one would find me up there!”

Another gunshot rings out, alarmingly close to where they are.

Duke curses under his breath, then picks up the guy and hauls him over his shoulder. “Time to go!” And then he’s disappearing into the shadows again, following the line of them outside the warehouse and down the street.

As soon as they’re safely away from the goons, Duke steps out of the shadows and carefully sets the civilian back onto his feet.

“So sorry about that,” he says, “But I need to get back and deal with them. Stay safe!”

He’s gone before the civilian can say anything else, and though it’s embarrassing that he tripped over someone while shadow hopping, at least it ended relatively well. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

Duke, sweet, naive Duke, doesn’t think much of the civilian again. He’s a busy guy with a busy life! Lots of things to do! Lots of embarrassing moments to keep secret from the other Bats! No one has mentioned it at all, so he thinks he’s safe from being teased about it.

That is, up until he’s training with Dick and a hand pops up out of his shadow.

“Um,” Dick says, backflipping away from Duke’s punch. He lowers his escrima sticks and squints at the space behind Duke. “Are you… trying something new with your powers?”

“...No? I’m not using my powers right now.”

Dick looks more and more alarmed. He won’t look away from the space behind Duke, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn't want to look, but he knows he has to.

Steeling himself, Duke takes a deep breath, then turns slightly to see what’s behind him.

Nothing.

His gaze goes down, and he sees a pale hand sticking out of his shadow, moving back and forth. It then comes out some more, up to the elbow, and the hand pats the ground Duke’s shadow lays on, a stiff mat perfect for sparring.

Behind him, Dick turns on his escrima sticks, the electricity crackling through the air.

The hand disappears for a moment.

Then two hands appear and grab the ground, hauling up a body from Duke’s shadow.

Duke is very well versed in shadows. He travels through them almost daily. He thinks he would know if there was some strange netherworld hidden in the shadows where other beings could pop out of shadows like portals. This is alarming, to say the least.

“Don’t move, Duke,” Dick warns, creeping closer, ready to attack.

A head pops out of his shadow. Whatever it is glows and their white hair moves softly as if underwater. They’re facing away from him, so he can’t see their face, but he can see the black, skin-tight suit their wearing as they float up from his shadow, no longer needing their hands to pull themself out.

“Huh,” they say, looking up at the ceiling.

Dick grabs Duke’s arm and pulls him back, shielding him with his body. “Who are you?” he demands, voice cold.

The creature/person startles and whips around to stare at them with wide green eyes. His gaze darts down to the electrified escrima sticks, then back up again, visibly nervous.

“Um, hi! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be here. Wherever this is.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was practicing a new portalling method. I found a ghost to teach me how to move through shadows, since my usual portals are very bright and noticeable. Not great when you’re trying to be stealthy! I did not mean to end up here.”

Duke stares at him. “You came out of my shadow.”

“Sorry,” the guy repeats. Then he squints at Duke. “Hey, didn’t you save me the other day? From the warehouse?”

It’s been a while since Duke’s saved anyone from a warehouse. Criminals and goons have moved on to condemned apartment complexes and the back rooms of bars. The only person he’s saved is the tripping hazard…

“Man, what is up with you and getting caught in my shadows?”

“This is your fault!” the guy insists. “I associate shadows too strongly with you! That’s why I’m here! Probably. I don’t actually know how this works.”

“You don’t know how it works but you did it anyways.”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” The guy floats down to the ground and offers Duke a hand. “I’m Phantom, by the way! Figured I should introduce myself because this will happen again.”

Duke considers introducing himself as the Signal, but Danny is looking directly at his bare face, so it’s lost cause. Talk about an unexpected security breach. “Duke. You looked a little different when we first met.”

“Yeah, that was my human form. This is my ghost form.” A watch on his wrist, some clunky looking thing that looks like it came from the early 2000s, beeps and Phantom frowns at it. “Shoot, I need to go. I’ll see you later!” And he dives right back into Duke’s shadow, disappearing.

Duke blinks at the empty space where Phantom used to be, still reeling from the shock of it. He’s so busy processing the last few minutes that he doesn’t hear the escrima sticks turn off until Dick is dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not happy; it’s a warning that he’s at his limit and is barely hanging on to niceties.

“So,” he says as Duke cringes, “Looks like we need to have a talk about the things you’ve been hiding from us, Duke.”

He can’t do anything but resign himself to his fate.

After that conversation, he’s instructed to let them know when Phantom pops up. Which is fine until he realizes that Phantom really did mean it when he said that it’ll happen again.

Phantom pops up constantly. Most of the time, Duke is lucky enough to be at home, or in the Manor, or in the Batcave away from the public where no one will freak out about a glowing boy popping out of his shadow. Sometimes, he’s in the middle of the street as a civilian and has to sprint away, ducking into the first empty alley he can find in order to climb up onto the rooftop where no one will see him.

It’s stressful and confusing and he wishes he could be more upset about it, but Phantom is fun. He’s funny and charming and tells the craziest stories about ghost fights that Duke can’t help but hang onto every word.

He dutifully updates his Phantom Log, noting each time he’s portaled through Duke’s shadow, any information he’s revealed, and an injury count after Duke noticed a concerning pattern of Phantom often showing up after he’s been in a fight.

Duke begins to get a feel for when Phantom is about to show up. A shiver runs down his spine and his awareness of the shadows around him grows. Sometimes, he could swear he could feel something tear apart in his shadow. He feels it then, a tear that stitches itself up almost instantly, a ripple in the shadow, before that familiar hand pops up again and Duke grabs hold of it to haul Phantom out into his bedroom.

He is, once again injured. There’s a large gash running down the length of his other arm, bleeding a toxic, glowing green.

“Dude,” Duke says, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

“You should see the other guy,” Phantom snorts. “I slammed him through five streets, then ripped his limbs off.

“Dude…”

“Just to be clear, they weren’t his real limbs. He has a robot suit he uses like a body because he’s like a tiny little bean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to take that. Anyways, have you still not figured out how to open portals that aren’t connected to my shadow?”

Phantom shrugs. “Nope. And I’m not really trying to figure it out. I like hanging out with you. Plus, it’s nice to see a friendly face after a fight.”

“Can’t you like, go home and have your family take care of you first.”

“Uh, better not,” Phantom laughs nervously. “They’d probably kill me for real if they saw me like this.”

Duke quietly notes to himself to add that statement to the Alarming Things Phantom Says list.

“Does it… bother you? Me always coming to you?” There’s a smallness to his voice, a fragility that makes Duke want to beat himself up for making Phantom feel like that.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you from anyone else.”

Phantom brightens. “Oh! Well, no need to worry about that. No one’s worried, back home. They know I disappear sometimes.”

…Another concerning thing. Duke is considering bribing Phantom into staying in Gotham forever, living in his shadow, just so he can take care of him. Just to be sure Phantom’s safe. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Phantom’s bleeding wound.

Phantom futilely tries to hide the wound with a hand. The green blood leaks out from between his fingers, and he applies more pressure to the wound with a faint wince. “Nope! All good here. I’ll heal in no time, honest.”

“Then, do you want to just hang out? I really don’t know why you’d chose to keep coming to me.”

“You’re good company, dude. Very chill. Very fun. And you’re a hero! That’s so cool. Why wouldn’t I keep coming back?”

Duke shrugs, not sure how to put his insecurities into words. He’s already starting to get the Bat-specific inability to communicate emotions, which is definitely a problem. He’ll need to spend time with other people to be normal again.

As if sensing that Duke’s mood is falling, Phantom launches into another tale, complaining about people who bother him, teachers who are terrible at teaching, having snark-fights with the embodiment of Time itself, and so on. He always has the craziest stories, and he tells them so casually that Duke has to second guess himself, wondering if he’s overreacting when he’s shocked by what Phantom tells him.

He starts telling his own stories as well, mostly fun civilian interactions he’s had since they last spoke, villain fights, the ever changing theories on the ‘Who is Batman Sleeping With Now?’ shared document all the other Bats have. By the time an hour passes, Phantom’s arm is fully healed and he’s flying in lazy circles above Duke.

His watch beeps again in the middle of him recounting the insane drama happening at his school. Phantom sighs and sinks back to the floor, hovering just above Duke’s shadow.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says, voice warm.

Duke shrugs. “You’re good company. I like when you visit.”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Phantom’s cheeks, making him glow even brighter. “Sweet talker,” he accuses fondly, then flies in for a quick, tight hug. He pulls back before Duke can reciprocate, and salutes him with a cheeky, “See you soon!” and is gone, flying into Duke’s shadow before he can respond.

Shaking his head fondly, Duke falls back against his bed.

Despite how unconventional their friendship is, he is glad Phantom keeps coming back. He hopes he’ll get to see Phantom’s human form again.

…And get more used to the horror movie scene that is Phantom clawing his way out of his shadow. No matter how many times he sees it, the sight still makes him jump.

Not that he’s ever going to admit that.

If Phantom thinks he’s cool, he’s going to do whatever he can to keep that impression from changing. It’s only reasonable, really.

(“Shut up, Dick,” he says later when he recounts this encounter with Phantom. Dick just keeps laughing, endlessly amused that Duke got ‘jumpscared into a crush’ as he phrased it. That’s definitely not what happened.

Next time, he’s definitely convincing Phantom to scare Dick with him.

Revenge will be his.) . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts! one day left before they close on 11/17]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #100% after danny gets a hang of traveling thru shadow portals more hes going to help duke in fights #meaning duke is going to throw a ball of shadows like a pokeball and dannys going to pop out of it to deliver a spectacular flying tackle #theyre the dream team (trouble makers) :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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lovelyjj · 6 months

Text

Choices

jj maybank x kook!reader

request: Heyyyy I really love your works, I kindly request if you can please write a tumblr story of how JJ maybank likes both kook reader (Sarah’s cousin she introduced to the group and treasure hunt) and Kiara at the same time and he has to choose between the two and ends up choosing reader and Kiara moves on soon too

wc: 4.7k

a/n: I kinda changed the plot a little bit where Kiara and Sarah already worked out their differences. sorry this took forever!!

JJ watched her. He was captivated by her beauty. He watched as her long dark curls bounced as she walked. He admired her tan skin. He watched as she waited tables and rung up customers.

JJ was at the wreck while Kiara worked. He didn’t mind as he was mesmerized. Kiara didn’t seem to mind her visitor.

“Hey what are you doing here?” Kiara questioned.

“Just came to visit you,” JJ smiled.

“I’m working JJ.”

“I know I won’t bother you, promise.”

Kiara didn’t believe him when he said this however she still smiled and nodded back at him.

JJ stayed at the wreck for another hour before he decided to go home. When he got home he couldn’t stop thinking about Kiara. He thought about her smile and her laugh and her personality.

He loved hanging out with her even if it was to watch her work. JJ was confused as to how he can like someone so much.

——————

You never been to this so called Midsummers. Sarah has been raving about it to you for so long you grew tired of hearing about it. You and Sarah were currently getting ready for the party.

“Do you want me to do your eyeliner?” Sarah asked.

“Yes please,” you responded.

Sarah sat down in the seat in front of you and got busy.

“So are you excited for Midsummers?” you asked Sarah.

“Yeah I guess so, I’m just a little bummed because I don’t think John B will be there.”

“And John B is the guy your leaving Topper for?”

“Correct. Now hold still and close your eye.” Sarah demanded.

After a little while the both of you were ready for Midsummers. You were wearing a baby blue silk dress that matched Sarah’s white dress perfectly.

You arrived at the country club right on time and you were a bundle of nerves. You never been to Midsummers before and you were nervous because you didn’t know what it would be like.

Of course Sarah told you everything about it but still it didn’t ease your nerves. When you stepped out of the car you were met with a ton of people all dressed very nicely.

After Ward made his entrance and after a while of socializing you and Sarah made it to the dance floor.

Sarah was hiding behind her friend and sneaking some champagne.

You were on the dance floor living it up. When a mysterious blonde boy came up behind Sarah.

“JJ?” she questioned.

“yep” He spoke

“What?”

“I got a, uh, note from Vlad.” “Shh.”

“From Vlad?” Sarah confirmed.

“Yeah” JJ replied.

“Okay.”

“Read the note.” JJ said walking backwards.

Sarah read the note and ran off. You were confused by the whole interaction by brushed it off. You continued dancing.

After a while Sarah came back to find you.

“Hey listen we gotta go to Rixon’s Cove,” Sarah exclaimed.

“What why?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” she smirked.

Sarah grabbed your hand and led you away from the party and towards Rixon’s Cove. When you arrived you were met with a group of people.

They all turned towards you and you gave them all a smile.

“Hi guys, This is my cousin y/n,” Sarah announced.

“Hi, nice to meet you all,” you spoke.

“You can trust her,” Sarah put forth.

“Hi y/n, I’m John B.”

“I’ve herd a lot about you,” you giggled as Sarah’s cheeks warmed.

“Hi I’m Kiara,” she got up and shook your hand. You smiled at her.

“I’m Pope,” Pope said.

You turned your gaze to the only person who hasn’t introduced themselves.

JJ was frozen in place. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There you were in your shiny silky blue dress looking like a goddess. JJ didn’t believe in love at first sight until now.

“JJ,” Pope coughed.

“What oh right sorry, I’m JJ, JJ Maybank, pleasure to meet you.”

You thought JJ was cute and you wondered if he had a girlfriend, probably you thought.

“Now that we are all acquainted. I have some news,” John B announced.

“You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Kiara responded.

“So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant,” John B continued.

“Oh, my god. Here we go again with this.” Pope voiced.

“No. All right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” JJ spoke.

“It’s been here the whole time. It’s on the island.” John B added.

“Are you serious?” Kiara questioned.

“Oh my god.” Kiara exclaimed.

“I’d like to voice my skepticism.” Pope said.

“I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?” John B asked.

“Proceed.” Pope responded.

“All right. So, in my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny.” John B went on.

“Who the hell’s that?” Kiara asked.

“Denmark Tanny was a slave that survived the Royal Merchant wreck. Check this out,” John B explained.

“What?” Kiara voiced.

John B handed her the letter. “Here you go.”

“Okay, slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but my dad, he found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery. So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom.” John B discussed.

Kiara whistled and gave Pope the letter.

“After that, he bought his farm.” John B continued.

“Drumroll, please, because that farm is… Tannyhill Plantation.”

“Tannyhill?” Kiara questioned.

“Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him.”

“So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

“Where?” Kiara whispered.

“Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water. Except… there’s no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out. The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.” John B shared.

“Holy shit,” Pope exclaimed.

“All we need is an original survey map of the property, and we’ve found the gold.” John B cheered.

“Which I can get,” Sarah added.

“Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.” Pope acknowledged.

“Dude it’s like King Tut,” Kiara suggested.

“I am a genius,” John B announced.

JJ got up and walked over to John B and embraced him.

“Hey, whoa! Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.” John B stated.

“I’m so proud of you right now.” JJ commented.

“Thank you. That’s really sweet of you,” John B expressed.

“Okay, so, guys. What’s the plan?” Pope asked.

“Good question,” John B stated.

“Well I can bring the map soon it should only take a second,” Sarah spoke.

“How much in gold are we talking?” you asked.

“400 million.” The pogues said together.

“Woah,” you stated shocked.

“Alright we can meet up later and get the map and go from there,” John B suggested.

After the meeting at Rixon’s Cove you all went home and thought about what was said. When you finally got home you couldn’t stop thinking about JJ. It’s like you were drawn to him.

There has been a few meetings about the gold and you were grateful to be apart of it and apart of the group. You felt like you finally found a group of friends.

Today you were going surfing to celebrate finding the gold. There was also gonna be a party at the boneyard but that was tomorrow.

Once you got to the beach you felt like you should mention you don’t know how to surf.

You voiced your concern about not knowing how to surf and JJ jumped up.

“I could teach you,” JJ exclaimed.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah of course.”

While the other pogues went to hit the water you and JJ stayed on the sand. JJ wanted to get to know you and he thought the perfect opportunity to do that was teaching you how to surf.

“Alright before we hit the water we must practice on the sand. First i’m gonna teach you about paddling.” JJ went on.

JJ proceeded to show you how to paddle. Then JJ showed you how to stand on the board and maintain your balance.

“We will get you in the water another day,” JJ started.

“Ok sounds good.”

You and JJ sat in the sand watching the others surf. JJ was so proud of you for learning so fast. Now was his chance to learn about you.

“So what do you like to do if you don’t surf?” JJ asked.

“Well I like to read and ride my bike.”

“Really? Ya know i have a dirt bike. I could take you on it sometime.” JJ hoped his invitation wasn’t too forward.

“Yeah that sound fun,” you exclaimed.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” JJ asked next.

You paused for an moment to think then you smiled and JJ just about died at the sight.

“I mean yeah, I think everyone has a person made for them and someone who completely understands you and loves you unconditionally is important to have.”

“I agree I believe there’s an intense connection where both people feel deeply drawn together as if the affair was somehow destined to be.”

JJ’s eyes were sparkling and you felt mesmerized.

“What’s your love language?” You asked.

“Hmm probably physical touch, which is funny,” JJ replied.

“Yeah mine too. Why is it funny?”

“I just didn’t expect it to be physical touch.”

“What's the best gift you've ever received, and why?” JJ asked.

“Umm probably concert tickets because it was Lana Del Rey and I love her a lot.”

“Really that’s so cool. Personally I love concerts.” JJ exclaimed.

“Yeah there the best,” you stated.

“What kind of music do you like?” JJ questioned.

“Um I listen to pop, indie pop, modern rock, indie folk and Hollywood.” you explained.

“That’s some good stuff right there,” JJ commented.

“Will I see you at the boneyard party tomorrow?” JJ asked.

“Yes you will,” you smiled.

After everyone was done surfing you all went to John Bs house. Everyone decided to just relax and watch movies.

—————

The boneyard parties are always fun. You had no idea because you’ve never been to one. Being a kook you never really branched out. Now you had a group of your friends that would be there.

You arrived with Sarah in a white sundress with yellow flowers on it. You were excited and nervous at the same time. The beach was buzzing with people. You were entranced by the energy of the people.

JJ was situated on a branch talking to Kiara.

“I haven’t seen you talk to any tourons lately,” Kiara stated.

“Yeah I’m growing tired of them. Their all the same,” JJ replied.

“JJ Maybank is passing up on sleeping with tourons, unheard of!” Kiara gasped in surprise.

Little did Kiara know that he liked her and didn’t see a point in filling his life with meaningless sex when all he really wanted was her.

Then JJ spotted you across the way and his whole face lit up. You looked hot. You were in a group of people with Sarah laughing at something someone said.

JJ wasn’t sure if he should approach you but he desperately wanted to hear your laugh.

You were mingling when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and were surprised to see JJ.

“You’re here!”

“I am,” you responded.

“Have you had something to drink,” JJ noticing your empty hands.

“No I haven’t.”

“Come on, let’s get you something to take the edge off.” JJ insisted.

JJ guided you to where the keg was. He poured you a drink and handed it to you. Then he proceeded to pour one for himself.

“You look nice,” JJ smiled.

You took a sip of your beer trying to hide your blush.

“Thank you,” you answered shyly.

“Do you want to go down to the water?” You asked JJ.

“Yeah sure,” JJ called.

The two of you made your way to the waves and you stuck your feet in the water. JJ was wearing boots so he just stepped near the water.

“Ya know I’ve always loved the water. I used to come down to the beach with Sarah. First we would watch for dolphins. Then we’d play in the waves til sunset. It was always so magical and fun we wouldn’t even care walking back wet.”

“That sounds perfect.” JJ commented.

“It was,” you smiled.

All of a sudden you got an idea. When the next wave came bringing in water that went up to your knees, you scooped up some water and flicked it towards JJ.

JJ scoffed but then he began to laugh and he said, “oh it’s on.”

JJ then proceeded to splash you and you splashed him back. This caused you to erupt in a fit of giggles.

JJ finally got to hear your laugh and it was music to his ears.

Soon the both of you were soaked and you were both smiling. Then horror struck you as you realized you were wearing white.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked and your hands flew up to cover your chest.

JJ tried to get the image out of his head he really tried but your dress stuck to you like glue and he could see the outline of your nipples pass your light blue bra.

He thought about what it be like to suck on them and he instantly felt ashamed.

You were panicking. But it could’ve been worse you could’ve not been wearing shorts underneath your dress. Thank god you did.

JJ quickly took off his shirt and gave it to you. “Here.”

You looked relieved and JJ smiled.

You took it from him and pulled the wet garment over your head. “Thanks.”

“Come on I know somewhere we can dry off,” JJ extended his hand out for you to take.

This gesture didn’t go unnoticed by you but you didn’t question it. You laced your fingers with JJ’s and made your way to the château.

“First I need another drink,” you stated.

“We’ve got beer at John B’s.” JJ whispered.

“Ok.”

Once you arrived at the château, JJ led you through the hall into his room. He took out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt along with a towel to dry off.

“Thank you JJ.”

After you changed in the bathroom JJ was already ready dressed in sweats and no shirt.

“You look good in my clothes,” JJ smirked.

You blushed and hoped it wasn’t noticed by JJ.

“You really think so?” you questioned.

“Yep,” JJ remarked.

You opened your arms signaling you wanted to give JJ a hug. JJ was surprised but he would certainly not pass up a hug from you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and JJ circled his arms around the small of your back. JJ smelled your coconut shampoo and he declared it his new favorite smell.

You pulled away way to soon for JJ’s liking but he obliged none the less.

“Now you wanted another drink right?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.”

He walked over to the kitchen pulled open the fridge and took out a can of beer. Then he handed it to you. He also took one for himself.

“So do you want to watch a movie?” JJ asked.

“Sure.”

With a movie on the TV and the two of you sharing a blanket you both sipped your beers and watched the film.

After the movie was over you guys stayed up til 3am talking about anything and everything. When Sarah walked into the château she was surprised to see you cuddled up with JJ on the pull out couch.

You were facing JJ and he was facing you. You were tucked under his chin and his arms were around you.

Sarah decided not to disturb the two of you but she will definitely bring it up later.

The next day you were over at Sarah’s house.

“So what the hell is going on with you and JJ?” Sarah asked.

“What do you mean, nothing is happening between us.” you replied confused.

“Well I saw the two of you cuddling at John Bs. It was kinda cute.”

“Oh that.” you flushed. “We just fell asleep really late and it sorta just happened unconsciously.”

“Yeah right,” Sarah laughed.

“I’m being serious nothing is happening,” you frowned.

“But you want something to happen,” Sarah smirked.

“What? No I don’t, What makes you think that?”

“Well I think you like him because you hang out a lot,” Sarah reasoned.

“So.”

“So, jump his bones already.”

“Sarah!”

“What, come on I think you guys would be good together.” Sarah threw up her hands and tossed them back down.

“Well it’s not happening,” you crossed your arms.

——————

You guys lost the gold. Everyone was pissed beyond belief. Loosing the gold to ward impacted everyone. Everyone seemed to be down in the dumps. A few months later the fuss seemed to have died down.

In those few months you and JJ got closer. Your relationship blossomed.

Everyone was out on the boat except you. You were busy and missed out on the boat day.

The pogues were gliding through the water, wind in their hair. Sarah was sitting next to JJ when she noticed JJ staring longingly at Kiara.

When they arrived back at the château, Sarah pulled JJ aside.

“Listen I see the way you look at her.” Sarah spoke.

“Look at who,” JJ questioned.

“Kiara. It’s the same way you look at y/n.” Sarah responded.

“What are you implying.”

“Look all I’m saying is you need to choose between them or I will tell them everything.” Sarah’s words cutting like knives.

JJ was conflicted. He didn’t know what to do. He for sure didn’t want Sarah to tell you and Kiara everything. He liked both of you and he didn’t know how he was going to choose.

——————

The pogues were all outside the château chilling and drinking when you walked up to the action.

JJ immediately turned around and saw you. He was at a loss for words, you looked stunning and he felt something in his chest.

“Hey guys,” you started.

“Hi y/n!” John B responded.

Sarah gave you a wave and Kiara gave you a smile. Pope handed you a drink which you gladly accepted.

You sat down next to JJ and his heart fluttered. JJ seemed to always feel some type of way around you. These past months his feelings really grew stronger. He couldn’t help the floaty feeling he felt just by being in your presence.

“We were just talking about the fight at the bonfire.” John B announced.

“Oh yeah that was wild. I can’t believe that happened,” you stated.

“Really I thought it was pretty predictable.” Kiara reasoned.

Everyone laughed and continued to tell stories. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. You however thought JJ was unusually quiet.

Truth is JJ was at war with himself. He didn’t take what Sarah said lightly. He knew she would tell them everything if he didn’t make up his mind.

JJ laid awake at night wondering what to do. He just hoped he would come up with a solution soon.

—————

JJ didn’t know what he did to piss off his dad so badly. It must of been something really bad because his dad was fuming.

“You are a worthless piece of shit!” Luke shouted.

JJ tried to run away but Luke tackled him to the ground. Luke got on top of him and started to choke him. JJ tried to choke Luke back.

JJ used his knee to knee Luke in the side. JJ got up but Luke used his hand to grab a hold of his foot and tripped him. Luke started kicking JJ in the stomach and then pulled him up by his hair. There he held him against the wall and punched the living daylights out of him.

JJ and Luke burst through the screen door and JJ came out on top. He started beating up his dad and finally he said, “I ain’t scared of you anymore.”

—————

JJ was embarrassed. He didn’t want to be seen by any of his friends. He was all bruised up and he was hurting all over.

He slowly but surely made his way to the château, wincing with every step he took. Then he saw you laying in the hammock and he was scared of what you might think.

“Jayj,” you called.

He walked over to you and when he reached your spot you gasped. He was littered in bruises and it reminded you of Midsummers where his face was all beat up.

“What happened?” you asked very concerned.

JJ was hesitant with opening up to you. Not that he didn’t trust you he was just scared to be vulnerable. He also didn’t want your pity.

“Um it’s my dad,” JJ smiled weakly.

“JJ.” your voice broke.

In a haste you reached out and pulled JJ in a bone crushing hug. JJ winced causing you to pull back and apologize for hurting him.

“That son of a bitch, i’ll kill him.” You expressed angrily.

“No y/n don’t worry about it. This is not your battle.”

“Yes it is JJ. When it comes to you I’m always gonna fight for you.” you reasoned.

“I don’t deserve it or you.” JJ muttered.

“No what you don’t deserve is getting beaten by your own father.” You said sadly.

“I told you not to worry about it.” JJ responded.

“Well news flash JJ, I care about you a lot, and seeing you hurt breaks my heart.” Your voice wavering.

“Don’t be sad baby, I can’t stand to see you so sad.”

You cracked a small smile, and looked into his crystal blue eyes. You took ahold of his hand running your thumb over his knuckles.

Looking in to your eyes JJ realized something. He realized that it’s always been you. He thought back to Midsummers when he saw you for the first time in your dress. How you looked stunning and he fell in love right then and there.

He thought about all the times the two of you were together. All the lingering touches, the long nights filled with deep talks, all the fun you had together. He thought about how you cared about him and his well-being. He didn’t care that you were a kook at all.

JJ thought about all the times you were there for him. The times when you fell asleep cuddling. How you made him feel. You made his heart race and his palms sweat. You made him feel alive.

It was a no brainer he was picking you.

“I hate seeing you all bruised up, makes me wanna cry.” You responded.

“I’m ok, promise.”

“Come here,” JJ continued and outstretched his hand for you to take.

You gladly accepted his hand and he led you into the château. JJ made his way to his designated room and closed the door.

As soon as the door shut JJ slid his arms around your waist and engulfed you in a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his shoulder.

After your hug of just holding each other, JJ placed his hand on your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” JJ asked.

“Yes.”

JJ didn’t hesitate, he quickly placed his lips on yours. The kiss was tender and JJ felt sparks, like little mini fireworks were going off in his body. Soon the kiss got heated. You were excited to be kissing JJ. Your lips were capturing each other in a fiery kiss.

Your stomach started to get tingly and JJ felt blood rush through his veins. JJ was still cupping your cheek. Your hands were tangling in JJ’s hair.

JJ moved his hands to go under your shirt and you let out a small moan. JJ warm hands sent shockwaves through your skin. You went to take off you shirt, lifting the garment over your head. JJ eyed you in your bra for a moment than went back to kissing you.

You were stunning and your tits were spilling over your bra and JJ was practically drooling.

“I want this off,” you tugged on JJ’s shirt.

JJ lifted his shirt over his head and you gasped. His stomach was littered in bruises and you wished you never saw it.

Tears filled your eyes as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t cry angel, please don’t cry,” JJ begged.

“I’m sorry it’s just I can’t stand to see you hurt or in pain. It makes me so sad and then I get this rage because you deserve so much more than what you were given,” you shared.

“I’m ok, I have you,” JJ smiled.

“JJ…”

“What? It’s fine,” JJ muttered.

“Get on the bed please,” you ordered.

JJ did what he was told and got on the bed. You moved to get on top of him. You were straddling his legs when you decided to kiss each one of his bruises on his stomach and ribs.

JJ let out a shaky breath as you kissed him. When you were done you looked up into his eyes and gave him a smile.

JJ flipped you over so that he was on top of you now.

“Let me make love to you please baby,” JJ requested.

“Ok J.”

So, JJ made you feel amazing and you had the best sex you ever had.

—————

You were on a mission. You were very upset and you needed to find JJ and sort this out. You marched up the steps of the château and found JJ on the couch.

“We need to talk, now.” You demanded.

“Ok let’s go to my room,” JJ replied.

Once you were in the privacy of JJ’s room you let it rip.

“I can’t believe you. How could I be so stupid,” you started.

“What are you talking about?” JJ asked.

“I’m talking about you liking me and Kiara at the same time!” you shouted.

“Oh that,” JJ cringed.

“Yeah that,” you raised your eyebrows at him.

“But I chose you!” JJ exclaimed.

Tears formed in your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

“That doesn’t change the fact you liked her while we were hanging out together.”

“I mean I was falling in love with you and you were thinking about some other girl,” you continued.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry but I want to be with you,” JJ apologized.

“i’ll never forgive you if you break my heart.”

“I won’t.”

“If we’re together and you suddenly decide you want to be with Kiara, I don’t know if I can handle that,” you reasoned.

“I promise I won’t leave you. You’re just gonna have to trust me”

“Jayj.”

“I’m serious y/n, I’m committed to you and I love you,” JJ choked out.

“I love you too,” you smiled weakly.

So, you decided to trust JJ and it was the best decision you ever made. He treated you right he loved you unconditionally and he made you happy.

Your heart did break when you found out from Sarah that JJ liked you and Kiara at the same time but he did choose you in the end. So you forgave him and never looked back.

————

Kiara has been waiting for JJ to make a move for a while now. She thought he would’ve asked her out by now.

When she found out from Sarah that you and JJ were together she was shocked. But she didn’t let that get her down. She dusted herself off and decided she should start dating.

Her and Pope have grown rather close and she wondered if Pope would ever go for her. She wanted to try her luck because nothing with JJ will ever happen.

She knew JJ liked her all this time and she waited for him but he never acted on his feelings. So Kiara decided to move on.

You and JJ loved each other a lot and throughout your relationship you both discovered new sides to yourself. A little while after you and JJ got together, Pope and Kiara got together. Everyone was happy.

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spacedace · 1 month

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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amuseoffyre · 9 months

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I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now.

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

#good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens #good omens spoilers #gos2 #go s2

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beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

Text

Pup Code (18+)

(SEQUEL TO GIRL CODE. Y/N IS NOT THE SAME PERSON)

pairing: college!mingyu x college!reader

genre: college au, smut (MDNI), fluff, crack

description: mingyu doesn't have crushes. he likes avril lavigne and sometimes he fucks pretty girls. but you seem to stir something in him that no one else can. without the trusty girl code, mingyu makes his own code to help you fall in love with him.

warnings: kindddaaa bad writing tihi, service top!mingyu, dom!mingyu, sub!reader ish, size kink (reader is mentioned several times to be smaller than mingyu and several key interactions are based on this fact), oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (dont do it guys...), praise (f. receiving), slight possessiveness?, mingu is soooo in love with y/n, he just wants to make her cum forever :( hes a total dork

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "fuck realistic portrayals of sex with men. im very content with getting exposed to this", "men like this DONT exist",

wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: im back and i think ive regained my ability to write. thank u 2 @ryusha-rose for the amazing name for this fic, it ended up becoming a bigger part of the plot, so thank u sm to them tihihihi

This could not be happening.

Forever boring and bland, his friends had opted out of the party, and Mingyu stayed behind alone. Or not alone. He almost wished he were alone, because almost any company (even none!) was better than sitting across from the two idiots before him.

“Truth or dare, Mingyu!” Josh laughed smugly, and Jeonghan held his hand over his mouth, leaning into him. “Ohhhh, truth or dare!”

Mingyu had been down this road before. There was no winning in this scenario, Josh and Jeonghan always attempting to pry embarrassing information from him.

The party had settled down into a low hum. Most people were going home, either humping against another anonymous body as they stumbled out, or walking alone, jacket slung over their arm. There was no reason to stay, really, and torture himself with this circle of hell. Except, of course, for you.

“I don’t wanna do the chicken dance again, so I’m gonna go with truth,” Mingyu pursed his lips, determined to not act a fool in front of you.

He’d always been vaguely aware of you, but tonight had been his first time really sitting down with you. Contrary to your two best friends, you were cool and charming, and you didn’t seem like you wanted to embarrass him. This was already gaining you Mingyu-points, but he was absolutely taken aback by your humor and your smile and he, giddily, found himself liking you.

Mingyu didn’t usually like people - not like he had always liked Avril Lavigne (there was a poster commemorating that crush in his dorm room) - so this felt big. He was nervous, hands clammy as they slid down his jeans.

“Tell us about your first time,” Joshua asked innocently, mischief given away by how the older man cackled and slapped his arm. You watched in amusement, eyes flickering over to him, lashes coming over them in long, black lengths. He struggled to breathe when you held his eyes, so he sucked in a breath and looked at the floor, blushing. Damn it, he was already making a fool of himself.

“That’s so rude, Josh!” you said and threw a random chip at him. It hit him on the cheek and he groaned, face scrunching up in disgust. “Ask him something nicer.”

“You’re so boring, Y/n.”

Mingyu looked at you gratefully and you returned a warm smile to him.

“Yuck!” Jeonghan quacked from his seat between you and Josh. “You guys get a room! I can’t believe I let this stupid kids’ game take away from my boning.”

“You’re so gross!” you groaned.

“Josh was gonna hook me up with this girl from his class, dude,” Jeonghan continued complaining, forever going on about his ‘sexual conquests’. “Now I’m sitting with you dorks and you won’t even let us bully Mingyu.”

“Mingyu’s nice, you guys are just assholes,” you said, gesturing towards Mingyu with your beer. Mingyu was horrified.

Now was the time. Now was the moment to return the compliment; to say anything that might flatter you and defend you from the crooks that you apparently spent your time with.

Now, this was a bit embarrassing for Mingyu. He had recently been adopted by a female friend group - some might even call him one of the girls, but alas! - so one would think he knew all about girls and how to approach them. The truth was, Mingyu was clueless. Beyond his daydreams of Avril Lavigne, and a few casual flings here and there, he had never actually been put in this situation.

Mingyu thought about his girl-friends, thought about their advice and their critiques, and he knew. He knew it would frankly disappoint them if he came to them with no expertise, nothing learned from the countless girls’ nights. Therefore, he had to take matters into his own hands.

“T-Thanks,” Mingu stuttered, lisping across the word. “Y-You’re also great.”

Fuck, he was an idiot.

You grinned at him and the sight of your beautiful smile, your shining skin and your gently falling hair was almost enough for him to miss how Josh and Jeonghan were lifting themselves off the floor in disgusted groans.

“Alright, time to go. Shoo now, back to your dorms. Peasants.” _____________________________

Mingyu didn’t need his girl-friends.

He repeated this in his head for days, like a spiritual mantra, and maybe, he hoped, maybe he would start believing it. You and him had one mutual class and he counted down the days before he could swoop in and talk to you casually, flirtatiously, and seductively.

With the absence of the very helpful girl code (it had certainly helped his friend, Jihoon, with his crush!) Mingyu discovered and consulted a new code. Mingyu code.

He spent his days diligently writing down his own best advice. Some rules were more helpful than others.

“Mingyu code rule 3: always wash your hands after a shower,” he hummed to himself with a small, satisfied smile, while scrubbing his hands in the steamed up bathroom.

“Mingyu code rule 12: go on bike rides frequently for a better jawline!” he panted, hunched over his bike, and pedalling through the nearby park in the beating sun.

Now, Mingyu was mumbling all of his new-found rules to himself, books pressed into his chest, while he approached you in class. It was the middle of the day, and the class hadn’t started yet, people still filing in from the halls. Thankfully, you were sitting alone on your phone, both Jeonghan and Joshua nowhere to be seen. The universe was working with him.

But he was still sweaty and nervous and breathing unevenly when he finally reached you. Remember the code, he reminded himself, remember to be cool and calm.

“Hey...” he whispered, and then, louder: “Hey.”

You looked up from your phone, smiling brightly when you saw him. For such a huge man, you realized he could look quite small.

“Hey, Mingyu!” you said cheerfully, settling your phone down on the table before you. He shuffled to sit down next to you, jacket rustling against the wood. Your seat was near the back, so the hall felt great and wide, and a little bit like an audience to his fumbling.

Rule 14, he remembered sneakily, always wear a jacket, so girls (Y/n) will marvel at your muscles when you take it off!

Mingyu moved to take off his jacket, eyeing you as he did so, in what he certainly thought was a sultry and sexy look. You blinked back up at him, smiling.

Oh shit.

Something was caught on- on something! Stuck with the jacket halfway down his arm, Mingyu began struggling and writhing in it, warmth spreading across his cheeks. You smiled at him fondly, biting back a chuckle.

“Do you need help?” you asked. “No- No, I got it, uh-”

You moved to help anyway, tugging a corner of the jacket off the design of the chair, and he stared at you widely, because you were suddenly so close to him and so cool and calm and pretty, and your fingers danced along his skin. He breathed out a heavy sigh when it finally slid off his arms, furrowing his brows in embarrassment.

“You’re clumsy, huh?” you teased, settling back in your seat and Mingyu chuckled dryly.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he murmured, and to his delight and surprise, you laughed. You had a loud laugh. It ripped itself from your throat and bounced off the walls of the classroom. He smiled proudly at how your face contorted in joy.

“You’re funny, Gyu,” you said, stilling finally and he swore his heart galloped in his chest at the nickname. You were so pretty and so sweet, and he wanted to hug you so bad. He grinned, then looked around the room.

“Where are Joshua and Jeonghan?”

“God knows,” you snorted. “I think they’re poisoning the water supply of some third world country, but I could be wrong.”

It was Mingyu’s turn to laugh, and how couldn’t he? Because you were so smart and so gorgeous, and he truly didn’t understand how he was smitten by you so fast. There was something humbling about spending all his freetime scrolling through Instagram photos and giggling when you smiled prettily at the camera.

Next step in Mingyu code was a little tip he’d borrowed from the countless renditions and repeats of the “Jihoon story”; a heartfelt confession.

Wait a minute. Was he skipping a few steps? Surely- Oh yeah, he definitely was. He couldn’t help but want to skip to cuddling, but going from step one to seven was maybe a bit of a stretch. Jogging his brain for his ultimate “confession for Y/n” gameplan, Mingyu didn’t even notice the lull in the conversation, while he stared at you with furrowed brows and a pout.

“So, uh,” you began awkwardly, and Mingyu finally snapped out of his daze. Shit, he was being a dork again. “You coming to the party on Friday?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there. Jus’.. Love partying.”

There was no salvaging this.

“Alright,” you giggled, confused, and finally turned your eyes to the board when the professor began speaking.

Friday, he thought, gulping down the shame. Friday I make some serious moves. _____________________________

Mingyu was not making serious moves. In fact, he wasn’t making any moves at all.

He’d never felt more strange, standing on the edge of the dancefloor and bending his knees awkwardly to the rhythm of the music. His limbs were mile long stretches and they swung uselessly around him. He looked almost lost, but, of course, it was only Soonyoung’s house.

“You okay, man?” Wonwoo, his roommate, padded up beside him, eyeing him warily through the lens of his glasses. “Are you on something?��

“No, I’m not on something!” Mingyu huffed, stopping his frankly pathetic dance moves and looking directly at the man before him. “I just… You know that girl Josh and Jeonghan are always hanging out with?”

Wonwoo nodded.

“I kind of.. Really.. Like her.”

“What?!” Wonwoo exclaimed, completely forgoing his drink to look at Mingyu in bewilderment. “You haven’t liked anyone since Avril Lavigne!”

“I know! But this girl’s just really smart and cool and funny,” Mingyu smiled shyly, eyeing you where you sat with Josh and Jeonghan, as well as two girls he didn’t recognize - oh, wait, no, Jeonghan and one of the girls were leaving together. Just you, Josh and the blonde then. Wait, no, now Josh was leaving with the blonde. Just you.

Wonwoo saw how Mingyu’s eyes brightened with opportunity and he smiled beneath the rim of his plastic cup.

“Wait! Wonwoo! You can wingman me!” Mingyu exclaimed suddenly, hoping the older man’s presence might ease the interaction.

“What? No!” Wonwoo grimaced.

“Why not?”

“You don’t deserve my services, Mingyu! Not after what you did to me!”

“We’ve talked about this, the Jihoon-story is a very sweet thing and you should be happy to have been a part of it-”

“I’m talking about the other time. Or the other-other time!”

Mingyu slumped, a pout on his pink lips. Wonwoo softened, but stayed steadfast nonetheless.

“Listen, just go talk to her. I have a girl waiting for me upstairs, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” the older man said softly, patting his shoulder while a drink was clutched in his other hand, liquid dancing against the cup-walls when he wafted his hand.

“I would be more okay if you wing-manned me-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Wonwoo murmured, walking away towards the stairs. Mingyu sighed and looked over at you. You were chewing your lip, face lit by the screen of your phone.

“Mingyu code rule 17: Confidence is key. Confidence is sexy,” Mingyu reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut and beginning to walk over to you. “You’re hot, Mingyu. You have big muscles and a pretty face.”

Mingyu could’ve almost convinced himself, but when he opened his eyes, legs mindlessly padding closer to you, you were so pretty and so intoxicating, he faltered completely.

“H-Hi,” he stammered, brows immediately pulling up in disdain at himself. You looked up and smiled immediately, face shining bright. “Hi, Gyu! Come sit down with me!”

He nodded dumbly, and squeezed in beside you. His muscly arms were pressed into himself and leaning on his thighs, and he tried to compose his features into something sexy and sultry, when he turned to look at you. You smiled in a sort of knowing way that had Mingyu dropping his face immediately.

“You enjoying the party?” he rasped, turning to look out at the crowd. You pursed your lips and looked at it with him. “Not sure. It’s kind of boring and Josh and Jeonghan just left.”

“Yeah, I saw,” he sighed, then widened his eyes. Oh God, he thought, what if you thought he was a total creep - a creepster - staring at you from across the room all creepily. “Not that I- I wasn’t- I just saw it, like, casually across the roo-”

“Mingyu, do you want to take me out on a date?”

Huh?

“Huh?”

Mingyu didn’t know if he was hearing that right. The words had come so naturally and so casually from your mouth, and now you were staring at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips, and waiting expectantly for him to answer.

“Do you want to take me out on a date?” you repeated, shrugging your shoulders, as if it were just the weather. Mingyu stared at you with whole, wide eyes, and swallowed hard. Clammy hands gripped his knees.

“Yeah,” he breathed, laughing awkwardly. His mouth was so dry and his heartbeat was almost painful in his chest, although the tensions were eased when smiled sympathetically. “I mean- if you want to-”

“I want to go on a date with you too, Mingyu,” you reassured, smiling even wider when his lips mimicked your own.

“Oh my God, okay, so, I was thinking Olive Garden-” Mingyu giggled, and his pure expression of joy was infectious, genuinely making your heart soar, as this huge, muscly man bounced on the couch cushions. He cut himself off halfway, narrowing his eyes. “Wait, wait, how did you know?”

“How did I know what?” you frowned.

“That I like you?”

Your immediate reaction was to snort. This only confused Mingyu further, so you elected to respond truthfully: “Mingyu, you always look at me so longingly, seriously-”

“That- those were sexy faces!” he pouted.

“No, they were longing and tender. Like pull-apart meat. And then sometimes you do the- the Zoolander face-”

“I’ve never done the Zoolander face in my life!”

“And all your moves are so obvious, Gyu,” you watched how he slumped at those comments, a little, pitiful pout on his lips, all deflated like a puppy. You reached a hand over to caress his arm, warm and hard with muscle under your fingertips. Mingyu immediately leaned into your touch, pout being replaced with a small goofy smile. “It was very endearing, though. You’re very cute.”

“I was going for sexy,” Mingyu said, mood lifted at your compliment, but still a little pouty.

“Then go sexy on our date,” you squeezed his bicep in your hand and he perked up. “Now that you know I like you too.”

Hearing those words, that admission, Mingyu smiled to himself.

Mingyu Code; he truly was genius. _____________________________

“So no Olive Garden?” you quipped, standing outside of a more upscale restaurant - candlelit and warm and Italian. Mingyu shook his head. He’d thought Olive Garden would woo any girl, but after triumphantly boasting to his girl-friends (mothers), that he’d gotten a date with a girl he liked, he’d been nothing but scolded by the restaurant choice (“A girl wants to feel pampered! Olive Garden is for post-6-month-relationships!” Yeri had squawked).

“Not until in six months,” Mingyu said, shrugging when you lifted a brow in question. Cars were bustling past where you were standing on the sidewalk. Grass sprouted from the cracks in the cement and people idled past where the two of you were facing each other, your head craning up to his. “Wanna go inside?” he asked.

Mingyu had become more at ease, following your admission. You liked him too, he tried to remember, whenever the butterflies batting around his curving ribcage became too much. And it was becoming too much now, with how your lips spread in a smile and you nodded at him.

You walked in, hand in hand. The tables were fine, polished wood and there was a slightly-stained, white tablecloth draped over the rounded surface of the table. Sneakily, Mingyu nudged some salt and pepper shakers over the yellow splotches on the fabric, hoping you wouldn’t notice, and that you’d feel pampered. You were busy looking at the menu.

Mingyu asked about everything - not because of Girl Code or Mingyu Code or whatever other bullshit way to woo a woman. No, he asked because he was sincerely and utterly interested in you, what made you you, what habits you got from your childhood, what made you choose your major, how you knew Josh and Jeonghan. You were so beautiful in the light of the restaurant, but more importantly, you were the most infatuating individual Mingyu had ever laid his eyes on. Maybe even more so than Avril Lavigne.

You got to talking about Mingyu Code.

“Well, it was because of my friends. They have Girl Code, right?”

“Yeah, that’s God’s rules,” you hummed, sipping on a soda.

“Mhm, and my friend followed Girl Code and he got with this girl he really liked.”

“Mhm.”

“But I decided to make Mingyu Code. Which is about being sexy and charming.”

“You were none of those things,” you teased, but Mingyu had gained confidence and he leaned back in his seat with a smirk, stretching out his arms, as if gesturing to the restaurant.

“Well, I beg to differ. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am,” you smiled, admitting defeat. “Although I don’t think you were following Mingyu Code.”

“Yes, I was, I made it. I’m the founder of that shit,” Mingyu grimaced.

“Well, if Mingyu Code is about being sexy, then you definitely accidentally followed some other code.”

“Wha-”

“Puppy code. You’re like a big, clumsy puppy. Yeah,” you nodded to yourself, satisfied with your new name for Mingyu’s terrible, horrible guide to wooing you. “Pup Code.”

“Why does everyone call me that?” Mingyu whined, crossing his arms and pouting. Your plates were empty and streaks of cream sauce sludged up the sides of the porcelain.

“You give off major himbo vibes,” you said.

“I’m smart, though,” Mingyu huffed. You smiled fondly at his bratty expression.

“I know you are.”

Mingyu caught your eye and caught the sincerity in them, and it made his whole body ache and flutter. You liked him too, it was clear and not something Mingyu had to tell himself, it was right there, right behind your retina, twinkling at him.

“Do you wanna..?” Mingyu trailed off, pointing his thumb to the door. You pursed your lips.

“What if I wanna take it slow?” You asked, and it was almost adorable how Mingyu’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently and seriously.

“That’s okay! We can- we can totally do that,” he said decidedly, as if it weren’t a bother at all (because it wasn’t).

“Okay,” you nodded, letting go of your now finished drink. “But if I want you to take me to your room right now and fuck me?”

Mingyu whipped his head to yours, the way a door bursts open. You saw him swallow, throat dry and heavy, and biting his lip.

“That- That would be okay, too,” Mingyu said shakily, blushing furiously. Images flashed his mind of you in less-than-sacred scenarios, and he squeezed his eyes shut to ward them away.

“Okay, then let’s go,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“To my room?” He almost couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.”

“Okay, fuck, let me just pay.”

Mingyu didn’t think he’d ever paid and left a restaurant so fast, and he was enamored with you enough to completely skip the step where he contemplated whether or not the staff secretly hated him. You and him walked hand in hand, as he practically dragged you through the street back to the dorms, his long legs working faster and more efficiently than your own. You half wanted to complain at the brutal pace, but you couldn’t lie. You needed him just as much as he needed you. And he knew that too.

Thankfully the restaurant wasn’t too far from the dorms, and Mingyu had frantically texted Wonwoo to “get out or he’d be squirted with semen” (a threat that Wonwoo didn’t need to hear twice!), so after ten minutes and some sore legs on your part, Mingyu and you scrambled into his room.

Mingyu liked the privacy, you realized, because it wasn’t until the door was closed, and you both were sealed away in the Mingyu-zone, that he finally walked up to you, hands finding your waist with a confidence you didn’t think possible for him.

“Can I kiss you now?” he whispered, somewhat out of breath from the climb up the stairs. You smiled at him. “I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

And then he pounced. His plush lips were soft and well-moisturized, and his annoying, perfect nose brushed against yours; in fact his whole stupidly gorgeous face was pressed into yours, as your lips thrummed together, and you were conjoined into one being by the lips.

His hands ran up and down your sides, finally taking hold firmly, only to pull you into his lap when he settled on the edge of his bed. You straddled his lap, as your lips danced, his tongue peeking out to enter your mouth. You moaned gratefully. Involuntarily, your hips rolled into his, and the jolt reverberated all the way up to his lips where he cried out and panted against your mouth.

“You’re so pretty,” he said in between heated kisses.

“So are you,” you said. He pulled away and smiled up at you, and he was truly worthy of the puppy-title, because his grin was so goofy and his eyes twinkled and he was so warm against you, it almost hurt.

Carefully, he pressed a kiss to the valley of your breasts over your t-shirt, looking up at you with wide, brown eyes. “Can I eat you out?”

The way he said it like he was completely and totally enamored with you (he was), like it was in this very moment of sitting on his lip and running your hands up his huge arms, that he was falling in love with you (it was), almost made you bashful. Your smile, usually cheeky and teasing, came small and shy.

“Yeah, I-I wouldn’t mind that at all,” you responded, cursing at yourself for letting your confidence falter. However joy spread on Mingyu’s face like the ever-expanding universe spreads into endless empty space, because for once the tables were turned, and you were right underneath his hands, and he was flustering you.

It had him pushing you onto his bed, head falling into the depths of his pillow, and working at your skirt to shimmy it down your legs. You lifted your hips in help and soon enough that and your shirt was discarded on the floor. Mingyu, with his black tee and his big arms and his sweetest-hottest face on Earth, settled between your legs with a dumb grin.

“I can’t believe-” he cut himself off with a satisfied sigh, staring at your pussy. You were pushing yourself up by your arms, looking at the man-child between your legs just staring at your core as if it were his most prized possession. “I-I can’t believe I get to have you like this. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Mingyu’s face fell (it was almost comical), and his eyes snapped up to yours. “Wait, are you mine? You are mine, right?”

You giggled fondly. “Yeah, I’m yours, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s grin returned immediately and he nodded happily, eyes turning back to your pussy.

“It’s so pretty,” he sighed, fangs poking out where his smile ended. One finger ran through your folds, wet from the making out and all the heated stares from lovedumb Mingyu. You whined a little at the pressure when his finger reached your clit. He was so close you could feel him panting against it.

“Mingyu, please, stop staring at it, and do something,” you cried and Mingyu pursed his lips and nodded. “Right, yeah, sorry.”

And then he dived in.

His nose pressed into your clit as soon as he pushed his head in, tongue stuck out to lick at your folds. Your hands flew to his hair, a desperate moan leaving you. It was a little embarrassing how loud he was, huffing and puffing at your pussy, but you couldn’t complain when his tongue traced up from your hole to your clit, lips wrapping around it.

“A-Aah, M-Mingyu-” you cried and pushed his head further into your core, while your hips canted off the mattress. The press of his nose was amazing, and his breaths danced across your nerves. “S-Shit, that feels so good.”

Mingyu was totally lost in you though. Your taste on his tongue, your soft thighs underneath his hands where he pushed you apart, your moans, and the desperation in your movements. The fact that you were so catty and witty, but with a few flicks of his tongue, your facade fell and you became a whiny, desperate mess, begging for him. And he loved to give it to you. He loved that you felt good, he loved being the one to make you feel good. Lapping and panting into your pussy, Mingyu started to think he didn’t ever need to leave. You could just feel good forever! The logic was flawless.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried and you came on his tongue, cum seeping out of your sopping pussy. Mingyu, strong and tan and shiny Mingyu, didn’t stop though. Too enchanted by your soft moans and your nail in his roots, and your juices on his lips, he kept at it, tongue-fucking you to slurp up the cum.

“M-Mingyu-” you whimpered softly, and his only response was a grunt, and one hand sliding off your thighs to prod at your entrance. “M-Mingyu, I-I already came!” you cried, more insistent.

“You can cum again,” he mumbled gruffly, two fingers pushing into you. The feeling was so intense your voice became strangled and your chest pushed off his bed.

“Just say if you wanna stop, then I’ll stop,” his tone was almost challenging, as he pulled his face away from your dripping pussy and his fingers stilled inside you to give you a chance to answer. You looked down at him, panting, as he waited expectantly. Your ‘stop’ didn’t come.

“That’s what I thought,” Mingyu grinned again, and God, this time it was sexy; not endearing, not awkward, not clumsy. It was so incredibly hot and he dived right back to your pussy, tongue swaddling your folds and fingers beginning to pump in and out.

Your clit grinded against his face, slick smearing all over him, but he didn’t seem to care one bit, your cum on his cheek and two fingers working inside you, curling into your g-spot. “Cum again,” he gasped in between sucking on your clit with pointed lips. “Cum again, I wanna hear it again. You sounded so pretty, please, cum again. On my fingers now.”

And he was rambling for sure, but it was working for you, because for the second time that night, a knot tightened in your belly and the string were pulled tighter and tighter with each lick and suck, and eventually it snapped, and your whole body spasmed and your pussy pulsated around his thick fingers.

This time, he did stop. You closed your eyes and heaved for air, lying completely still in the sheets of his bed and panting for air. Mingyu smiled cheekily, pulling his fingers out of your sensitive pussy and licking them clean. As if it was nothing. As if it was juice from a popsicle, his tongue peaked out and he sucked your essence off of them, groaning at its taste.

“Can you go on again? You taste so good,” he hummed, eyeing your fucked-out state. Your cheeks were flushed and strands of hair stuck to your sweaty face. You shook your head. “No, no, I want your cock now.”

“Anything for you,” Mingyu agreed, shuffling to take his clothes off while you regrouped.

It was not long before he was climbing over your body, so fucking huge and covering your entire form in his own, muscles flexing when he lowered himself onto you. As if by nature, Mingyu, tan and glistening in the bedside lamp, grabbed you by under your knees and pushed them to your chest, pressing them into you.

“Wanna fuck you like this,” he pressed a kiss to one of the knees that was now folded over you. “Can I fuck you like this?”

“Please!” you sobbed, because the position, and his strong hands holding you there, and your own slick covering his face had your pussy dripping onto his bed, and you could practically feel the heavy presence of his dick, even if it wasn’t touching you yet.

Mingyu tilted his head as he looked down at you. You were so easy to admire. It was so easy for him to fall into every little jerk and breath and crevice of your face, and you looked so beautiful underneath him, Mingyu started to think he wanted nothing more for the rest of his life than to make you feel this good.

“Okay,” he whispered, and only then did you notice how he stared at you, because there was something very tender in his voice. Adoration poured directly from his heart and into you.

Before you could get lost in his warm eyes, he moved one hand down to steer his dick into you. You cried out when you felt it pressing against your slit, cried even more when it started pressing into you.

You had suspected Mingyu might be big, but nothing could’ve prepared you for each inch that seemed to endlessly plunge into your heat. Stretching you out like a rubber band, Mingyu finally bottomed out in you, his hard pelvis resting against your mound.

“Shit, Gyu, y-you’re so fucking big,” you gasped, and then opened your eyes to see him smirking proudly. It made you giggle. He hummed giddily, looking down at your stomach.

“You’re just so fucking small,” he said then, pressing one hand to your stomach, and then groaning when he could feel his dick inside you. “Shit.”

At that, Mingyu started pounding into you. His pace was fucking relentlessly, something seemingly awakened in him at the bulging in your stomach. “Shit, shit, shit, my tiny, pretty baby, fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

The praise had you reeling into him, it had you crying out and gripping onto his shoulders for dear life, while he worked up a sweat pistoning in and out of your pussy. You moans were shaken from the impact of his dick in your pussy. “Shit, so fucking tight, can hardly fucking take me.”

“G-Gyu, f-fuck-”

“But you’ll take it, hm? Fuck, I wanna make you cum so much more, jus’ have you in my room, making you cum over n’ over again. Shit.”

You had not pegged Mingyu as a dirty talker, and you weren’t even sure if he was aware of what he was doing. Something about having his dick inside you, warm walls just pulled one dirty slew of words out after another. He’d never fucked a girl like this, never felt compelled to tell her exactly what she was doing to him. Not like with you.

You were so gorgeous to him, the way your chest bounced, and your eyes were screwed shut and how your mouth was opened in continuous, strained moans. It was how your hair bunched up on his pillow, and how your skin felt against his, and how you clenched at every word he spewed, while grinded into you like you were the only other person in the world.

“F-fuck, my pretty fucking baby, you’re mine, right? Say it and I’ll make you cum forever, jus’-” he groaned, as your pussy clenched down on him extra tight. His pace fell and his hands on your knees dug into the skin. “Jus’ say you’re mine, please, Y/n.”

“I-I’m yours, Gyu!” you cried out, his pace speeding up again and another orgasm bubbled in your stomach, and you pussy clenched embarrassingly hard for embarrassingly long. “Only yours, fuck.”

“That’s right. Cum again, let- let me hear it one more time, yeah?”

You came. Again. Clenching down so hard, and face twisting in pleasure, cum spilled out of you and coated his dick, still inside you.

Your third orgasm was a melodious song, and you moaned to it so loudly, you knew people three halls over would be wondering what was going on. But you could care less, letting his presence, his smell, his being above you drag more bursts of pleasure out of your body.

Your breathing calmed down again, your soul traveling down from a sky-high mountain, and you started to feel it all again. Your orgasm had been so blinding, you had lost all of your senses but the blinding white explosion in your stomach, and now sighed heavily, pushing yourself up a little.

To your surprise, Mingyu’s hold on your knees didn’t let up, and it took you a moment to realize that his dick was still extremely hard inside you. He hadn’t cum yet.

“Want you to cum again,” Mingyu smiled sheepishly, adjusting his position to be able to pound into you again. You looked at him incredulously, and he chuckled a little, shrugging. “Just say if you want to stop.”

“Safe word is ‘pup’.”

#mingyu x reader #svt mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #svt mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #svt smut #svt x reader #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #mingyu x you #svt x you

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hees-mine · 7 months

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, masturbation, lube and sex toys, cursing.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 🐣 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

You were sitting on your bed mindlessly scrolling until you got a notification that your one and only all time favorite camboy was live.

Ethan mentioned you.

With excitement, you quickly tap the notification, opening the streaming app, and watching the live.

“Hello, everyone,” Ethan waved to his viewers. “Wow, there’s already so many of you,” he chuckles at the number of live audience that was attending his stream. “I’m nervous. There’s so many people here.”

You smile at his shy demeanor, one that is a stark contrast to when he was putting on a show for all his dedicated viewers.

“So, as you all know, last week I opened a P.O. Box so you could send me gifts, and I’m so excited yet nervous to see what you all got me.” he blushed, knowing that some of the gifts were probably far from innocent considering his profession. “There’s so much, and it’s only been a week.”

Your heart rate picked up at the mention of gifts cause you had sent him something, and you were so hoping he’d use it for you on stream.

As the live continued on, he opened package after package. Some were chocolates, others confession notes along with their numbers, which you thought was hilarious, and of course, he got the occasional lingerie or sex toy. “Thanks for all the gifts!” He says excitedly. “I loved them all so much, and I appreciate every single last one of you.” you frown cause he didn’t open the package you sent him. You spent a decent amount of money on it, too, but maybe he’d open it next stream, but that was wishful thinking.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he laughs. “I saved this one for last cause it’s the biggest.” he holds the big box up to the screen, showing the camera. “I wonder what it could be. This one is from y/n.” he shakes the box, keeping your last name a secret just in case some weirdo tried to get your address and information. “I like that name.” Smiling softly, he opens the box, and your heart is literally going to explode because not only did he say your name, he was about to open your gift, and he actually noticed you. “Oh wow,” he laughs airily. “Y/n, if you’re watching this, you’re very, very naughty.” he looks into the lens, smirking, and you think you’re about to die cause your poor heart can’t take much more you were literally still processing the fact that he said your name. “Look what she bought me, guys” he shows the camera the suctioning masturbator toy you sent him. “You,” he clicks his tongue, and he’s more than amused cause out of all the toys he received, this was by far the most enticing to him. “Must really want me to feel good,” he finishes, looking at all the different functions of the toy.

Your face heats up from his words, and that alone has you rubbing your thighs together.

“What do you say, guys? Should we end it here now that all the gifts are open, or should I use it?” The amount of comments flooding in telling him to use it made him chuckle with amusement. “You all must really want it yeah?” His tone switches to a much different one than his usual bubbly online personality.

“Please,” you whimper in your quiet bedroom, desperately hoping he’d use it even though you didn’t know if your poor heart could take it.

“Yes, please.”

You type out knowing he won’t see it, but you still do it anyway, and he doesn’t see it not until he notices the comments replying to you and mentioning how happy they are that you bought him the gift cause thanks to you, they were going to get a really good show tonight.

You respond to them, giggling and blushing shyly from all the sudden attention.

“Well, y/n, my viewers seem to be even more appreciative of the gift than me,” he laughs, still looking at the countless comments coming in of fans wishing they were you and saying how they wished they had of thought of buying it for him instead. “Okay, guys, what about me?” He whines and pouts at the camera cause you had taken over his stream in the comments.

“Sorry, Ethan, but I want y/n now,” he reads one of the comments out loud. “What if I already want her?” He quirks a brow, playing into the banter. Meanwhile, you’re hyperventilating cause he’s really noticing you.

“Then I’ll fight you for her,” he reads their response after keeping an eye out for their username.

“Then let’s settle it, y/n. Who do you want, me or (Ethan’s number one fan)?” he waits for a reply from you, trying to keep up with all the incoming comments.

Cause this was all a joke anyways, you just decided to tease him. Obviously, if it came down to it, you’d pick him, but this was all harmless fun. “I’ll take (Ethan’s number one fan),” you reply with a giggle.

“Wow, y/n,” Ethan gasped, pretending to be offended and clutching his heart. “Well, guys, I’m ending the stream. y/n broke my heart, and I’m throwing her gift away,” he says dramatically, and the comments flood with laughing and crying emojis. “But y/n, I am really sad,” he pouts, putting on his streaming persona once again. “By the end of this stream, I’ll make you want me instead.”

Your laughter dies down when he says that, and all of the sudden, you feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his deep voice.

He quickly opens your package, grabbing the toy, and setting it on his desk while he rolls his chair back to stand up and give the camera a view of his clad bulge. “I’ll make you regret choosing them over me.” he wasn’t even aware when his stream had started taking this direction, but since his viewers were playing into it, he did, too. “Ethan’s jealous,” he reads another comment out loud. “Of course I’m jealous” he palms over his cock softly moaning at the contact. “Wouldn’t you be if someone bought you gifts and then left you for someone else?”

At this point, you don’t even know what’s going on. You can’t tell if he’s serious or if he’s just seriously good at entertaining his viewers, but you just decided to enjoy the show, not putting much thought into it.

He pulls the waistband of his sweats down, showing the prominent bulge in his underwear. “You like what you see?” He says, looking into the camera, cupping his clothed balls as he turns a bit to show the precum wetting the front of his boxers.

The donations were already coming in since the start, but now they were flooding in one right after the other. “You all must be feeling a little needy tonight. So many donations and I haven’t even shown you my cock yet,” he teased, which prompted even more donations to come in. “Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t. I mean, I already made double my goal,” he continues to tease, and within seconds, he surpasses his goal by three times more. “Yeah, you’re all really desperate for me tonight.” he hooks his thumb into his waistband, stretching the elastic and letting it snap against his waist as he whimpers from the pleasuring sting. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave until every single last one of you are satisfied” he drops his boxers around his ankles, his pearly tip gleaming in the light as his cock stands tall.

You lick your lips, gulping harshly as your eyes trail over every vein, every pulse and twitch of his cock. It looks so pretty you want him in your mouth so bad you wish you could just drop down to your knees for him as he feeds you inch after inch of his long thick cock.

“You regretting your choice yet y/n?” He says playfully, swaying his hips as you watch his length swinging back and forth.

Too wrapped up in his beauty, you don’t even reply as you slip a hand in your underwear to quell the pulsing of your pussy.

Grabbing the lube you sent him along with the toy, he can’t help but smile mischievously. “My oh my strawberry?” He chuckles, popping off the cap. “What are we gonna do with you y/n?” There’s a double meaning behind his words as he slathers his cock in the flavored lube you bought for him and he can’t help but go lower to fondle his balls. “So good.” he lets his head fall back, eyes closing tightly as he puffs out a breath at the pleasuring sensation of the lube coating his sensitive tip, and he makes a mental note to buy this lube the next time he runs out cause it felt so smooth and creamy soft on his girth and he thinks you really took your time and did your research.

He looks back at the screen, looking through some comments while he bites on his lower lip and tugs at his thick base. “Stop teasing,” he smiles while reading the comment. “But I’m having so much fun,” he laughs as more of the same comments come in. “Fine, fine.” he sits back down on his chair, the camera angle giving his viewers a perfect look between his toned legs. “Sweet,” he hums, sucking each one of his thick fingers clean of the strawberry-flavored lube, and he’s definitely gonna have to buy more of that sooner than later.

“Ethan,” moaning his name, you gather your wetness on your fingers, playing with your pussy lips as you watch him sucking his fingers, wishing he was sucking on your clit instead.

“Time for what we’ve all been waiting for.” he looks into the camera, eyes clouded over with a small smirk on his face. “Ready y/n?” He says teasingly, and you feel more than just a tingle between your thighs as more wetness helplessly seeps from your hole. “Guess she’s too busy to respond,” he winks at the camera, and you can’t help but feel shy because he’s right. You were too busy fingering yourself to reply.

You have to take a deep breath or two because you’ve never felt so worked up before. The fact he was actually using what you bought him just made it all the better, too.

He holds his length at the base guiding his dripping tip to the hole and sinking the toy down on his cock with a sharp hiss. “Hmm fuck” his jaw falls slack as he bottoms out. He knew it’d feel good, but not this good. “Mhm,” he whimpers. “Guess I’m a little more sensitive than usual today,” he chuckles breathlessly as he stills inside the toy, giving himself a minute to adjust to the intense pleasure.

Oh, how you wish you were that toy. You’d let him use you however he liked. You’d take load after load of his cum and let him fuck you senselessly until his balls are empty and your pussy is stuffed full of his warm cum.

He turns it on the lowest setting first, and even that feels so overwhelming. “Fuck that’s so good” he closes his eyes, too lost in pleasure to focus on reading any comments. He fiddles with the heating setting, and his mouth falls open when he feels the warmth encasing his hard length. The suction mixed with vibration was so pleasurable he couldn’t help but groan. “Fuck me,” he bites on his lip, slipping a hand to the bottom of his hoodie to lift it up and reveal his broad chest.

Your eyes flutter, watching him getting off on the toy you bought him. His voice sounded so hot, all breathy and whiny, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was right there with you.

Rubbing your clit in circles, you mewl out his name helplessly, whining and begging for him cause you need him inside of you so bad.

“Fuck I’m sorry, guys. I’m not gonna last long at all just feels too fucking good” his body goes limp in his chair, letting the toy do all the work on his cock while he toys with his nipples. With trembling hands, he grabs the lube, squeezing a dollop on his nipple and pinching the hard little nub as he moans out loud. This was by far the most pleasure he’d ever felt. It was so good he almost forgot he was on stream. The only thing keeping him somewhat coherent was the donation sounds coming from his computer.

“It’s okay, Ethan, you can let go,” you whisper to yourself halfway in and halfway out of it as you begin to lose yourself to the pleasure.

Beads of sweat drip from underneath his beaning and trickle down his jaw, the light in his room illuminating the sheen on his flushed chest. “This is for you, y/n,” he pants and stands up right in front of the camera, giving a clear view of everything including his pleasured face.

He removed the toy from his length right as he was cumming and spills an overwhelming amount of cum on his desk and monitor a few splashes hitting his camera lens, and that’s what sent you over the edge, back arching off your bed as you rubbed your clit until you were creaming at the sight of his white pearly cum pooling on his desk.

He whimpered with every spurt cock desperately twitching with arousal until he was milked completely dry.

Catching your breath at the same time as him, you cuddle into yourself, covering up with your blanket as your body shakes and pulses with the aftermath of complete utter euphoria.

“Wow,” he tosses his beanie off to the side, running his fingers through his messy blonde hair before pulling up his pants. “So now, y/n, who do you pick?” He grins, breath still a little uneven cause that orgasm really was something special he swears he’s never cum that much ever.

You grin and type out a reply. “I pick you, Ethan.” awaiting your comment, he smiles and lowers his head while chuckling softly.

It was fun while it lasted, but he felt like he was gonna crash any moment now. “Hmm, that’s a good girl,” he says, and your heart flutters. He ignores all the jealous comments coming in. As much as he’d like to stay and entertain everyone, he had to get some rest soon. “Well, I think I’ll end it here. Thanks for all the gifts and donations tonight. I really appreciate and love you all. See you all next stream,” he winks. “And y/n, I had fun. Hope to see you next time.” he blows a kiss to you or his camera. You’re not quite sure, but either way, it makes you blush, and you’ll definitely see him next stream.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen smut #heeseung angst #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen fluff #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 month

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Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios

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bangtanflirt · 9 months

Text

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 1)

I'm finally showing up in tags again woohoo! 🥳 Thank you guys for your patience!

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: needles, torture collars, misogyny in the workplace, probably very inaccurate business talk (pls suspend disbelief lmao)

____

The day starts off as typical as any other, with your assistant bringing you your morning coffee. You mindlessly take a sip while scrolling through your emails, except what welcomes your lips isn’t the usual Americano, but some Iced Matcha abomination—disgustingly too sweet for nine o’clock in the morning. You look up, ready to give Assistant Min a piece of your mind, but instead see a woman in his place.

“Who are you?”

The woman flashes you a nervous smile, hands fiddling in front of her stomach.

“Yoongi-ssi had an emergency, so I’m filling in. I’m the new hire, S—”

“I don’t care what your name is, this isn’t my coffee order. Bring me my Americano before my first meeting.”

“I’m so sorry! I was taking orders for all the executives, so I got confused. I’ll bring it asap!”

She runs off, feet clicking with each hurried step of her heels.

You toss the unnaturally green drink in the trash, annoyed at the setback in your morning routine. After shooting a quick "Are you okay?" text to Yoongi, you're back to your work.

Emails pile up in your inbox as they do every morning, mountains of classified information that you need to comb through before your 10am meeting. It’s tedious, but it’s the family business after all. Your grandfather started Shin Investments in the forties, and your dad took the business to new heights when he took over, now with your parents retired and on some island in god-knows-where, it’s up to you to make sure the company doesn’t lose its footing in the venture capitalist industry.

It's twenty minutes later when your Americano does arrive. Your eyes narrow into slits upon holding the cup in your hands.

“It’s lukewarm.”

“Oh my god, I apologize! Mr. Han stopped me on the way here, briefing me about what to prep for the afternoon meeting. I did not mean to take so long! I’ll heat it up and bring it back.”

You wave your hand dismissively.

“No need. You’re fired.”

The woman almost stumbles on air at your words, catching her balance quickly.

“Miss Shin p-please..I really need this job! I won’t make a single mistake from now on!”

“Too late.” You reach for the cup, the second one of the day to end up in the trash. “Please leave before I call security. I have work to do and no caffeine to help me.”

She doesn’t leave, but rather falls to her knees, waterworks in full effect. You let out a irritated huff.

“Please! Please, I need this!”

You don’t pay the commotion any attention, used to such scenes happening in your office by now. You simply dial security.

Your receptionist watches the new girl get dragged out, eyes sympathetic as she’s tossed right in front of the front desk.

“She-she fired me…all for a cup of coffee…I’ve worked so hard to get into this company and she just…for a fucking cup of coffee!”

Mascara stains a black rim around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Seulgi-shi. You don’t deserve that.”

“M-maybe I should go beg for a second chance after some time has passed? What if I come back in the eve—”

“You’ll be wasting your time. That would’ve worked with the previous bosses…but Miss Shin is as tough as it gets. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen countless people get fired for less than a cup of coffee—dragged out here just like you.”

You overhear the conversation, as the security guard didn’t properly close the door on their way out. You can’t say it makes you feel all that good, crushing some fresh-faced new hire’s dreams, but it sends a message. You knew what you had to do once the company was signed over for you—how you had to conduct yourself to survive. The world of venture capitalism was cutthroat to say the least, and still considered “not women’s business” by many. The sad reality was that, if you wanted to be taken seriously, you’d have to be feared—because respected was rarely an option. So, you play your role well and let the rumor mill do the rest, so everyone knows not to mess with the ruthless bitch of a CEO at Shin Investments.

You walk into the meeting room and the vibe immediately changes: the once lively room of everyone asking each other how their weekends went turns silent enough to hear a feather fall. Only sound is that of your red-bottoms click-clacking and earrings jingling. You take your seat, motioning for the standing executives to do the same. They can tell you’re more irritated than usual, and that could easily mean a demotion with one wrong move.

“Everyone’s here so let’s jump into it: where are we with HoloPad?”

“We’re at the audit stage ma’am.”

“Still?”

The tension in the air is palpable.

“Th-there’s been some—erm—gap in the books. They are working on fixing it right now.”

“So they’re cooking the books?”

“I-uh-I wouldn’t say—”

“Calling it something else isn’t going to change the fact that they’re cooking the books Mr.Choi. Call off the deal.”

The executives stare at each other with dumbfounded faces, hushed complaints erupting at the table.

“But ma’am…the CEO is the heir of Jun Tech…it’s not advisable to ruin our relationship with them.”

A bunch of others chime in with the same sentiment, and you have the room of men turned against you as usual.

“Is that so Mr.Choi? Do you really advise me to invest millions into a venture that can’t even provide proper financial records? All to avoid making the Jun family angry? Mind I remind you that this is a business, not a family drama?”

“It’s just—”

“And all of you who agree with Mr.Choi here…don’t think I don’t notice the new watches on your wrists. Can’t be a coincidence, can it? Everyone who wants to continue with the deal happening to buy the newest Jun Tech watches at the same time?”

Five people, including Choi, scramble to take off their watches, heads down in shame.

You let out a hollow laugh. “You all are too dumb to even be bribed properly, I can’t believe it! Anyways, I expect five letters of resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning. This is me extending my grace for all the work you’ve done in the company so far, but if you don’t voluntarily leave, I will not hesitate to disgracefully remove you.”

That’s the last thing you say before click-clacking your heels out the room, not missing the outbursts of “bitch” and various other insults blaring from the other side of the door as soon as you leave.

It’s moments like these when you just want to call your father and have him step in to help, but you can’t. You can’t be seen as a fragile little daddy’s girl in a room full of bloodthirsty businessmen. You keep your composure until you’re in the comfort of your office, where you let yourself decompress for a minute. Only a minute, though, because your receptionist is soon knocking at your door to remind you of a charity event tonight—a reminder that would’ve come from the temporary assistant if you had not fired her an hour before.

___

The charity auction seems standard, with the usual crowd flaunting off their rare pieces of art and jewelry under the guise of doing something good. You’re not in a place to judge too much, considering you’re also here doing the same thing. You are the only one who seems to see how ridiculous it all is though, for the little that’s worth.

“Y/N! Long time no see!”

You’re immediately swept up into various groups of people wanting to “catch-up” (aka keep in your good graces for their next business venture).

Yup. A typical day.

Until Kang Byung-hun approaches you with that same condescending smile he gives you at every event. He’s a short, plump man, a little bit older in age than your father, and he’s a complete pain in your ass. The not-so-subtle jabs during formal dinners, gossiping behind your back, and overall misogynistic world-view makes you want to tear out your hair every time you see him.

“Mr.Kang!” You say in the cheeriest tone, smiling wide. He’s a pain, but he’s got a lot of influence, and you’d be an idiot to dismiss that.

“Ah Y/N. I see you’ve done yourself up for this event. On the lookout for a husband, are we?”

You keep your smile through gritted teeth.

“Just looking my best for the noble cause, sir.”

“I’m sure.”

The wait staff comes around with wine at just the right time, because god knows you can’t deal with this without at least some alcohol in you.

“Oh, I actually do have some business with you. Are you down to talk in private a bit later?”

“Why wait? Let’s talk now.” You’d rather just get it over with.

“It requires some preparation. Have to make a few calls and get some things here. I was going to put on a nice presentation in your office, but now’s a good as time as any!”

“Sounds good sir.”

What you wouldn’t give to just go home, take off these uncomfortable heels, and just face-plant on your soft bed right now. But nope, you have to wait around for this jack-ass to put on his little show. As much as he dismisses you, Kang Byung-hun is no idiot when it comes to business. Whatever his newest idea is, he knows Shin Investments is the best option for financing—especially in the bad state of the market right now.

So an hour before the party is supposed to end, you get a tap on your shoulder by Kang’s assistant, and promptly follow her to one of the spare rooms at the venue. Kang sits with a glass of champagne in hand, flashing a smile that you can’t stand. You take a seat across the circular table.

“We already exchanged pleasantries earlier, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I just got the patent for a new piece of revolutionary technology, and I’d like for Shin Investments to finance the project.”

“What type of technology are we talking?”

“How aware are you with the current market for hybrids, Y/N?”

You shrug nonchalantly. Honestly, the topic of hybrids makes you uncomfortable, as you think of it as unethical to own anything even remotely human, but you keep your personal preferences to yourself.

“I know it’s a booming industry, especially in the last three years. And I know the market is big for training tech right now.”

“Precisely!” He beams. “Training technology is in high demand. You saw how much of a hit the snake hybrid calming diffuser by Pet Armor was. Sold out in minutes! Not to mention raised the demand for snake hybrids in general. That’s when I knew I had to get in on the action and expand to the hybrid market.”

“So is that what it is? Is Pet Paradise launching its own diffuser? For a different type of hybrid?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. You know how I like to do things big, Y/N. A new hybrid diffuser is too small of a scale. What we’re creating will change the hybrid market forever.” He ends with a snap of his fingers, to which his assistant takes cue.

Before you can even process what’s going on, a leashed wolf hybrid is brought into the room.

Your attention immediately goes to the bulky metal collar around his neck, filled with buttons and stats.

“Meet Jungkook, one of the hybrids we’re beta-testing on. That magnificent thing around his neck is the Obedience Collar, and it’s going to blow your mind.”

You feel sick, dinner threatening to come up your throat the sight. The boy looks no older than twenty-one, and has more fear in his eyes than you thought possible. He’s trembling, eyes trained on the floor, trying to make himself small in the big room.

“Now, it’s no secret that wolf hybrids are amongst the hardest to train, that’s why they make the perfect subjects for this,” his assistant hands you an iPad as he talks, “first, I’d like for you to watch a video of Jungkook before he started wearing the Obedience Collar.”

You reluctantly click play, seeing the wolf hybrid with so much life in his eyes. Life and anger. He’s growling and punching his way through a team of researchers, thrashing around for his dear life.

“What a violent and unsophisticated creature he used to be!”

You have to consciously unclench your fists, making sure not to show your true feelings. It’s excruciating to sit there and listen when all you want to do is see how Kang would like it if a group of strangers got their hands on him like that.

“But now, with Pet Paradise’s newest invention, he’s the most timid little thing you could own!”

“A shock collar? Hybrid shock collars are already a thing, Mr.Kang.”

Your voice shakes slightly, and you hope no one notices.

“No no, that’s not what this is. A shock collar is a good training tool, of course, but it’s not the most efficient way to train a hybrid. If you swipe on that iPad, you’ll see the design of this collar is far advanced.”

So you hold your breath and swipe.

And whatever you’re expecting, it’s worse.

This isn’t a normal collar by any means, as proven by the product shots. The inside is lined with thin needles, which you can’t see as they are quite literally jammed into Jungkook’s neck right now.

Holy fuck.

“You see, Y/N, the Obedience Collar works from the inside. The collar is supplied with our newly developed synthetic hormones, which are injected into the bloodstream through the needles. The hormones are specifically structured to work with the DNA of most mammal hybrids, and can even make something as unruly as a wolf hybrid behave. The changes take effect within fifteen minutes of collaring! There’s a little hormone pack in the back of the collar,” he motions for Jungkook to turn around, and the boy obeys instantly, showing the rectangular box in the back of the collar, “those will need to be refilled every six months—which we’ll sell separately, so the business model is more than sustainable. Isn’t this a gold mine of an opportunity?”

Keep calm Y/N. Breathe. Compose yourself.

“Very impressive stuff,�� you force out, “but I’m not sure Shin Investments is the right fit for this project. Wouldn’t you want a partner more familiar with the hybrid market?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Y/N. What kind of venture capitalist is afraid of diversifying their portfolio? You can’t survive this industry if you only play in familiar territory—your grandfather and father both know this very well. Besides, I heard a rumor that the deal with Jun’s son won’t be going through. I’m sure the board members are having low morale right now…so why not appease them with an even better deal?”

You can’t stand the way he chastises you. What you can’t stand even more is that, from a business perspective, he’s making sense. You know a lucrative business when you see one, and this is definitely one of those. And as unintuitive as it seems, it’s all legal. Hybrid abuse isn’t really a thing the government concerns itself with, which is why the only real law is not to intentionally kill one, and even that is enforced loosely. There’s no rules being broken, no shady deals, just a proposal as legal as the meeting you had two days ago where a start-up pitched their new smart fridge. Except this time it’s not a smart fridge you’re discussing, it’s the life of a very scared and no doubt in pain hybrid, that’s standing less than five feet away from you.

Kang sees the gears in your head turning as you find any way to refuse this deal for a rational reason. So he starts playing his game of mind-chess once again, a game he’d mastered since before you were even born.

“Look, I’ll be frank with you. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t even consider bringing this deal to you. Because we both know most women tend to be too emotional to do good business. But you’re not like that—hell, you’ve got more backbone than half the men at this party. So, what’s stopping you?”

There it was. The emotional card. The thing you were most concerned about, how showing even one ounce of emotion could be blown out of proportion because of your gender. You’ve worked too damn hard to create your reputation, and that’s why the next words out of your mouth spill before you can even think about it.

“You’re right, I was being too cautious. Let’s start with the proper procedures during work hours.”

Shit. He got you. Checkmate.

The man’s face erupts in the sleaziest grin possible.

“Perfect! You won’t regret this, it’s going to be big! In fact, I have one more surprise for you!”

You raise your brows, not needing anymore fucking surprises tonight.

“It’s Jungkook! He’s yours for the month!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that statement.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s a token of our appreciation. You get to be the first ever person to own a hybrid with an Obedience Collar! You can see first-hand how remarkable the technology is. There’s five others from his pack that we can continue our tinkering on, so one less won’t hurt us. Don’t worry, the synthetic hormone part is fully developed, we’re just trying to make the collar look sleeker.”

It’s not uncommon nor unethical for you to be gifted prototypes. Businesses love giving you a taste of what you’re putting your money into, as a way to give you confidence in the product and maybe even open up possibilities for a bigger investment. But you’d never thought someone would give you a fucking hybrid.

You almost open your mouth to decline, saying something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of a hybrid…but then something comes over you. You realize that declining means sending Jungkook back to the lab—and you just can’t bring yourself to do that. The damage you’re going to be doing by investing in this collar is going to be devastating as it is, no doubt making you the indirect torturer of many hybrids to come, but in some twisted sense of morality—you want to at least save the one in front of your eyes. Maybe even pretend that you have some good left in you.

“Thank you. I’d love to take him.”

___

The car ride back is silent and tense. Jungkook hasn’t said a single word, much less lifted his head to even look at you. He’s still trembling in the passenger seat. You have zero clue how to approach the situation. It’s not like you can take off the collar, as it’s a prototype with data still being transferred to the lab. You agreed to take him home to give him a better life, but you haven’t exactly thought far enough ahead as to how; judging by how scared he is right now, you know this isn’t going to be easy.

It's midnight when you reach home, and all you want to do is sleep. But you can’t yet, not until Jungkook is settled in. You lead him to a spare bedroom; it’s incredibly spacious and practically decorated for royalty, with a king-sized bed right in the center.

“This is where you’ll be staying.”

You see his head lift up for the first time, doe eyes scanning the room in disbelief.

“It’s late so we’ll talk more tomorrow, but for now sleep here. I don’t have nightclothes for you yet, so just sleep in what you’re wearing for the night. There are water bottles on the nightstand if you get thirsty. Do you need anything else before I head to bed?”

He adamantly shakes his head no, prompting you to exit. However, right as you’re about to walk out the door, you hear rumbling. More specifically, his stomach is rumbling. You turn back around.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

No response.

“If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.”

Those words seem to turn some gears in his head, as he utters his first words of the night.

“I’m hungry Miss.”

It catches you off guard how quickly he gets the words out, much different from the no-speaking rule he had enacted on himself up until now.

That’s when the realization hits you.

If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.

It sounds like a command, and that damn Obedience Collar is sure to make him comply.

You let out a defeated sigh before guiding him to the kitchen. Your cook has already called it a day, so you prepare one of the few things your tired brain can handle—frozen waffles. You toss them into a toaster, drizzle some syrup, and pile on a generous amount of whipped cream before pushing a plate in front of the awestruck boy.

“Eat up.”

With the eagerness in which he digs into the plate, you’re sure he’d be the same way without the direct command.

And that’s how your first night with Jungkook goes, with you making sure he’s fed and in his bed before heading to your own. You notice he’s trembling a little less. Baby steps.

____

A/N: If you're liking this fic, please let me know! I love and appreciate every interaction!

#bts ot7 x reader #hybrid bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort #unnatural instincts

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daisynik7 · 8 months

Note

the scowl nanami had in the trailer reminded me of the safeword audio, it’s definitely his reaction when finds out you’ve been touching yourself without his permission 😩

Anon, you are SO RIGHT, and for that, I wrote a little something. In case anyone is curious, THIS is the audio anon is referring to (reddit link, 18+). It is SO GOOD. It actually gets so tender and sweet at the end, but I did not recreate that for this little piece LOL. Anyways, ily anon for your brilliant brain. I love the idea of getting caught in the act, I am SO here for it. Also, I’m going feral over mean!Nanami. This is barely edited or proofread. This is a result of my carnal desires for him taking over my fingers without a care in the world. I’m throwing feminism out the window temporarily for this, sorry ancestors. MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You’re well into your third climax of the night, the vibrator buzzing on the lowest setting on your swollen clit, the exquisite sensations resonating down to the tips of your toes. You’re so sensitive now, basically mush puddled in the sheets, skin damp with sweat, arousal smeared over your loins. There’s nothing playing in the background; no porn, no nsfw audios, not even a dirty picture displayed on your phone screen. All that you have to get you off is the memory of Nanami railing you into the mattress, the same one you’re currently drenched in your slick, pumping his cock in and out of your wet cunt. That’s all you need to get your pussy throbbing, skin prickling, belly fluttering.

He's not home yet, still out on a mission with Gojo, doing what he does best: protecting people. Is it unfair that he has to work this hard, risking his life, while you’re twisting in the bedsheets, squirming with pleasure from a handheld toy? Maybe not. But what’s the harm in a little mindless release? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Your eyes are shut tight as you descend from your high, vibrator shut off and teetering loosely in your hand, satiated and spent from tonight’s activities. You could fall asleep this instant, but there’s so much to clean up, all the evidence of your naughty deed that you don’t want your husband to discover without explanation. As you’re about to rise up out of bed, you hear the familiar jangle of keys unlocking the front door. Startled, and still a slippery mess, you quickly wipe off the toy, shoving it beneath the pillow. It’s not quick enough because just as you look up, Nanami is already standing at the doorframe of your bedroom, scowling.

Like a bit from a comedy movie, you twiddle your fingers innocently, completely naked and exposed on the bed. “Hi honey,” you greet, slowly pulling the covers over your body. You smile at him, acting like he hasn’t already caught you in the act. He doesn’t respond, expression serious. Dangerous.

Heat rushes into your cheeks, increasingly nervous by his lack of reaction. “Kento, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sauntering towards you. “You tell me,” he mutters, sitting at the edge of the bed, studying you carefully.

You swallow loudly, mouth coated in your saliva. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh?” It sounds like he’s teasing you. Toying with you. You shudder with anticipation as he reaches over, hand slipping under the pillow, retrieving your vibrator. He waves it at you. “What’s this, then?”

Another noisy gulp before you answer, “My vibrator.”

His eyes narrow, his free hand tugging the blanket off you slowly, inspecting your body from your face, chest, then between your legs, squeezed together, hiding your arousal. “What were you doing while I was away?” he asks, resting his hands on your knees, spreading you apart. “Were you being a bad girl?”

There’s no need for a verbal answer, because as soon as his eyes fixate on your aching pussy, he already knows. “So, you have been a bad girl. Look at you, all wet and swollen already.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as you hide your embarrassed face behind your hand, barely peeking at him between your fingers. “You didn’t even have the decency to clean up.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, limbs trembling, yearning for him to touch you.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he repeats, mocking you. “You fuck yourself while I’m working and all you can say is sorry?”

“I – ”, you choke on your own spit, rendering you speechless.

“It seems that you forgot, so let me remind you one last time: This is my pussy. Not yours. Mine. You don’t get to play with it without my permission.” He sighs, hands sliding languidly down your thighs, prodding at the tender skin. “Such a dirty girl. What am I going to do with you?”

You moan, longing to feel his fingers, his cock, anything inside you. “Baby, please.”

He licks his lips, hungry eyes focused on your sopping cunt. “I guess it’s my job to clean up this mess.” He leans forward, tongue lapping at your sensitive bud, swirling circles around it, puckering his lips to suck. “Such a slutty pussy. So sloppy and wet for me.”

You squirm above him, pleasure stimulating your every nerve. “Fuck!” you cry out, lost in the ecstasy.

His low chuckle vibrates against your clit, pinched between his lips. “How many times did you come from this toy? Once? Twice?”

You grip his hair between your fingers, shoving his face deeper. “Three times!” you stutter.

“And you’re still so fucking horny for me, huh?” He slides his tongue up and down your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue, drinking you up. “I’m going to have to do better than that toy then for you to learn your lesson.”

The need to be used and manhandled by him overtakes you. It doesn’t matter how much you touched yourself earlier. All you can think about is how much you need to be touched by him. How badly you need his cock inside you. How insanely desperate you are for his cum to fill you up.

So you take it. Every lick, every suck, his fingers inside you, curled and hitting that sweet spot that only he can reach. His cock bullying you into submission, body weak and pliant from overstimulation, yielding to his every thrust like his own personal cock sleeve. All the while, he moans into your ear, constantly muttering the same reminder to you.

“This is my pussy. All fucking mine.”

#and with that I bid you all a goodnight and a good weekend! LOL #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader

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eloquent-edits · 3 months

Text

🗡️ It takes more than three words…

to say I love you in the ways you deserve 🗡️ words of affirmation prompts

“I can see that you care for them, even if you don’t say it directly. It’s in everything you do.”

“You deserve to relax.”

“That top complements your eyes really well!”

“Hey, you tried your best on that project. It may have fallen apart in the end—but you tried. That’s what matters.”

“I really admire how you stood up for them. That takes a lot of courage.”

“You make people feel safe. Like they can be themselves without judgment… at least that’s how I feel around you.”

“You’re looking less like you got dragged out of hell every day!” (“Thanks?” “Going to hell and back doesn’t mean you got any less attractive.”)

“I don’t think you were in the wrong. Now I’m not saying you were right, but you made a good point and I think they should consider that.”

“It’s okay to be just okay. I’m here for you no matter what.”

“We adore you! We want you around! You’re our friend, why wouldn’t we want to hang out with you?”

“You are worthy of love and friends and respect.”

“Keep going, you’re doing great!”

“Woah, that was sick. Can you teach me how to do that?”

“You look healthier, you really do.”

“I would be nervous too in your shoes. But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I really care about you and want you to become the best version of yourself, whoever that may be.”

“Regardless of your gender, you’ll still be allowed in the treehouse.” (this came from a really funny and reassuring conversation with a friend LOL)

“I trust that you won’t hurt me.”

“You’re a really wonderful person. The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

#writing #writing prompts #prompts #character dynamics #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #comfort prompts #fanfic prompts #words of affirmation #reassurances #support prompts #tell them that you care in all the ways you can #I had to check myself and make sure these were words of affirmation because I’m not great at that personally #I’m much more of an acts of service type of person #but words are important too

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multifandomgirl08 · 8 months

Text

Day At The Karting Track [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

Warning(s): Flashback, Mixed Media (Story + Social Media)

Words: 2k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Nico had been bouncing around all morning excited for his first karting race. It had been the highlight of his week after flying to Austria to watch Max race after Nico’s last day of daycare before the summer holiday started.

Although Max was excited for Nico, you also knew that he was nervous.

Nico had taken to sitting in the Kart that was gifted to him for his last birthday whenever he could, waiting for the day until he was able to drive on a karting track. The helmet that Nico wore was a replica of one of Max’s old ones. You had taken photos of Nico in his fireproofs after he had eaten breakfast, his racesuit hanging off his waist, the sleeves just barely touching the hardwood floor. He stood proudly against the wall in the entryway of the apartment, with his helmet under his arm. Looking every bit his father’s son.

Max was silent in the kitchen drinking his Red Bull while you packed up your bag with Nico’s little gloves and a pair of sneakers for him to change into for after.

Max hadn’t said much all morning, you had made breakfast for yourself and Nico while Max sat with you both. Nico had so many questions for Max.

“How long does the race last? How many other people are going to be there? Will I be just like you Papa?” Nico had asked one after another in between bites of his food.

Max had answered as many of Nico’s questions as he could, but he had kept his answers short. Although Max loved that Nico loved F1 as much as he did, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Nico to end up driving in motorsports at all.

It was a combination of things; it was hard, it was expensive (both you and Max could afford it), and Max wasn’t sure if he would be the best person to be Nico’s coach. It wasn’t just because Max was away most weekends.

“I don’t want him karting.” Max had said to you late one night after Nico had gone to bed.

“Max, isn’t that his choice to make?” You asked as you lay with him on the couch in the living room.

“No, because… I’m the one who’s going to have to coach him. I’m the one who’s going to have to tell him when he isn’t doing something right. I’m going to have to do things like…” Max didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was going to say.

Max’s “father”, if you could even call him that, was a constant source of stress for Max when it came to raising Nico. From the media which you now knew how to handle, to dealing with the pressure of Jos Verstappen hanging over his head. It was a constant, never-ending battle for him.

Max wasn’t looking at you as his head was resting in your lap staring up at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to.” In reality, you didn’t know the intricacies of how Karting worked, and when it really started to matter if Nico took it seriously. Nico had been 3 and ½ when he had asked you and Max if he could try, and by the time he would turn four he already had all of the needed equipment sitting in the garage of the apartment building ready to be used.

“Yes, I do. Most kids have a coach by the time that they’re 6, and they start competing at the age of 8.” As Max started telling you about the facts, it made it more difficult for you to not think about Nico. He was a kid, he shouldn’t have to think about if he wanted to pursue this so young. “If he starts later, he won’t have a leg up on the kids who have been doing it as long. Starting him young will prepare him for-”

Max cut himself off before burying his head into your thigh. “UHHH!” He yelled in frustration. “This is exactly why I don’t want him karting. I sound like my father when I was Nico’s age.”

It had taken two more months and having Sophie over for dinner to put Max’s mind at ease with Nico karting. You were sitting at the dinner table with Sophie who had helped you cook. Max had his hand in yours gripping it tightly when you had brought it up.

“I know you're concerned about him pursuing this. When you started living with Jos, and he started teaching you about karting I didn’t want to let you go. I didn’t want you to be raised by him like you were. I wanted to protect you, like any parent would. Like you want to for Nico, but I also understood that I had to let you go. I knew one day that I would get to spend as much time with you as I wanted, I just had to wait.” She said before taking a sip from her glass that was on the table.

Both you and Max had glanced over at Nico who was sitting on the carpet in front of the TV with one of his books open. He was turning the pages, looking at the pictures of the characters on the page before Sassy made her way over, pressing herself into Nico’s space. He let out a happy squeal as the cat nuzzled herself under his chin.

“I know that you are concerned about turning out like him. But you’ve already shown your son more compassion as a parent than your father ever did when you were growing up.”

Sophie had walked over and kissed Max on the forehead as if he was still a child before looking over at you and giving you a smile that you read as a silent Thank you. You just nodded before offering to clear the table. Max was quick to get up from his seat and move all of the plates into the kitchen while you and Sophie chatted between the two of you about Nico and yours and Max’s plans for the mid-season break.

Once you got to the track Nico undid his car seat before Max had put the car in park. He had jumped out of the car as soon as he could. Max had gone to chase after Nico while you went over to handle the forms you would need to fill out for him.

You quickly spoke to the woman behind the counter after paying the deposit for the day, and with the receipt, she started to collect a small stack of papers.

“You’re going to need to fill out a waiver today before the race starts.” The woman said. She gave you a clipboard and a pen for you to start filling out the information about Nico.

As you looked over it, you added in all of Nico’s info, like his name, date of birth, and then your eyes fell on the emergency information. Adding in Max’s was easy.

Parent 1

Name: Max Verstappen Relationship to Child: Father

Address: **, ****** ********** ********* Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco

Phone Number: +33 00*******

You saw the words Parent 2 printed on the paper.

As you stared at the paper you were quick to write down your name. You kept tapping the pen over where it said Relationship to Child. You quickly scribbled down Step-Mother without giving it another thought before copying the address and adding in your own phone number.

It wasn’t that you and Max had never had those conversations about the future. You knew that your relationship was long term and you knew that Max saw a future with you but you had never really talked about how that would affect Nico. Would you be his mother if things seemed to keep progressing the way that they had? Would you be his step-mother if Max ended up proposing?

You pushed the thought from your mind filling out the rest of the papers before you saw Max and Nico come back. You give the papers over to Max so he could sign where his signature was needed. You saw Max turn the pages back over, look at the first page, and then cross something out before handing the papers back to the woman behind the counter.

“Everything looks to be in order.” The woman said giving both you and Max a smile. “The race starts in about 30 minutes. You can have your son set up his things over there.” She pointed to a small set of tables where the parents were sitting strapping their children’s helmets on.

You and Max had helped Nico put on his gloves and his helmet before taking his kart over to where the start line was. The other kids were standing with their parents, some of them looking over at Max knowing exactly who he was. None of the parents had come up to Max to ask for pictures or anything like that but you knew it would probably happen when you were going to be leaving.

Nico sat down in his kart, moving around a little in the seat before you kissed Nico on top of his helmet and Max gave him a fist bump and a nod with a smile. You and Max walked back behind the gate to watch as the boys and a smaller group of girls raced around the track for the allocated time.

You had quickly posted something to your Instagram of a photo you had gotten of Nico earlier on.

ynlnusername added to their story

Nico had ended up finishing the race in third. Max looked at you after it was over, probably blown away at Nico’s natural talent.

You had been at the track for another few hours, meeting and talking to some of the other parents. One of the little boys that Nico had raced against even had the courage to walk up to Max and ask for an autograph. Max at first said that he didn’t have a pen on him before you had pulled out a Sharpie from your bag. You had taken to carrying a few with you just in case.

Max had given you a look that told you everything that you needed to know. Afterward, you had packed up all of Nico’s things and put him in the car. You planned to give him a bath once you got back home. You found it astounding that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the drive back.

When you had gotten up to the apartment Max went with Nico into his bathroom and gave him a bath while you ordered an early dinner for the three of you. Nico ate his fill, and while you and Max had finished eating Nico went to watch some cartoons on the TV.

Eventually, Nico ended up on the couch asleep between you and Max. The sound of the TV gave off a light hum.

“So I wanted to know,” Max started to say after he put his phone down. “Why did you put step-mother on Nico’s emergency contact information earlier?”

You were a little taken aback by Max’s question.

“I mean,” He started again. “I know that we’ve talked about the future and wanting to eventually get married. Did you think that when I proposed you wouldn’t fully be Nico’s mother?”

You knew that in France, and other parts of Europe the process of “adopting” Nico would take some time especially given that you and Max weren’t married, heck you weren’t even engaged yet. Nico didn’t call you anything but Mimi or your name when he could manage to say it.

“I just didn’t want to assume Max.” Nico had a mother, a birth mother who had given him up, but she was still his mom. It was strange because you felt like Nico’s mother, you did everything that a normal mother would do for her son.

Max reached over to lay his hand over yours moving closer to look you in the eyes. You could see the turquoise of Max’s eyes swimming as if you were caught in the ocean. He moved his other hand up to cup your chin.

“You’re his mother Y/N, in every way.” Max leaned up placing his lips against your hair, pulling both you and Nico closer. “Never doubt that.” He muttered.

You nodded against Max’s shoulder before thinking, official papers be damned.

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