#but something about the expression and the mouth makes it seem like he doesn't want it or he's afraid

[phantom-of-the-501st]

We've Taken Different Paths and Travelled Different Roads

New fic? New Fic. 😙 A series of snapshots throughout the lives of the Domino Twins

@saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings

SPOILERS FOR TBB INCLUDED

"KRIFF! Not again."

"Echo, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Doesn't seem like you are, vod. Is it getting too much?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"YES!"

"You know, it's okay to admit that you're not doing too good. Therapeutic even. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, we all have our weaknesses. I just didn't realise yours would be a paintbrush."

"Fives, if you don't shut your mouth I will push you out of the top bunk while you're sleeping. Again."

Fives let out a dramatic gasp and clutched at his chest. "Rude! I'm just trying to help you out. If you're struggling that much-"

"I am not struggling. I just can't get this kriffing line straight..."

"Sounds like you're struggling to me."

"FIVES!"

"Hey, no need to get grouchy, vod. You're just jealous that my armour came out so flawless." Fives leant back on his hands, a smug expression on his face. Echo glanced at Fives' armour, which was laid out to dry, and his eyes fell on the tribute to Hevy.

"You made a spelling mistake."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I did not." Fives picked up the piece in question. "You're just mad that you can't get your lines stra- KRIFF!"

Echo laughed.

_._._._._._._

"I won that one!"

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did!"

"Fives, that was an illegal move. If anything, that should get you disqualified."

"No illegal moves on the battlefield, Echo. I mean, what you gonna do in a fight? Stare a separatist down and tell them that they're disqualified from the war?"

"We're not on the battlefield, Fives. We're having a sparring match in a training room. And that was an illegal move." Echo went to the bench for a drink and to rewrap his hands. Fives was bouncing from one foot to the other on the training mat.

"You're just mad that you lost."

Echo rolled his eyes. "Illegal move, Fives. Illegal move."

"Sore loser, Echo. Sore loser."

Echo turned to stare his brother down, unimpressed. Fives just grinned back, still hopping about.

"Come on, vod. One more round. I might even let you win this time."

Stars, Echo wanted to punch his brother in the face sometimes. "Fine, one more round. But no cheating!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Fives and made his way towards the mat. Bracing his feet against the floor, and bringing his fists up, Echo tilted his head. "Shall you count down or shall I?"

"I will! Okay, five, four, three, two-" Both of their comms beeped from the bench.

Bringing themselves back to a normal stand, the two made their way back to their armour, Echo picking up his comm as soon as he reached the pile. "It's a message from Rex. He wants a meeting with us. Something about a rescue mission."

"Well," Fives said cheerfully, gathering his things "better not keep the boss waiting!"

_._._._._._._

"I'm sorry for shouting at you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have been so harsh. It's just..."

"Fives, it's okay. I promise you."

Fives sighed and curled up on himself even more. "I just miss him, ya know?"

Rex came to sit next to his brother on the floor. It was cold and definitely not comfortable, but Fives didn't look like he was going anywhere any time soon. "I know, vod'ika. I know." He put his arm around his shoulders. "I miss him too. And I get why you're angry. It's not fair. Nobody deserved this, let alone Echo."

"I'm just so mad at him." Fives clenched his fists and let out a shaky breath. "I shouldn't be, but I am. After everything we went through, after losing our squad, we promised each other we'd always be there. Always.

"And maybe it was stupid. No... it was stupid. We're in a kriffing war. It was a stupid promise to make." Fives tilted his head more towards the floor. "But I'm still angry at him for breaking it. Why did he have to run, Rex? Why?"

A sigh. "Because it's Echo. He'll always put others before himself, even if it means risking his own life. He'll always be there for the people that need him."

"But I need him." Fives said. The expression on his face was enough to break Rex's already shattered heart a billion times over. The look in his eyes was pleading, desperate, so painfully childlike. "I need him, Rex. And he's not here."

_._._._._._._

"Do you think there's anything after death?"

"Stars, Fives! Bit of a heavy question isn't it?"

Jesse took a swig of his drink and stared at his brother, who was sat on the other side of the table, looking nowhere in particular.

"I'm just asking. We're all gonna die at some point and it'd be nice to know what comes next."

"This is about Echo isn't it?"

Fives looked at Jesse, expression unusually blank. "I didn't say it was about Echo."

"But it is, isn't it?" It had been months at this point, but no-one could blame Fives for still dwelling on it every now and again. Echo and him were inseparable, you never found one without the other unless something went seriously wrong. The only time they'd be apart would be if it was forced (or if one finally got so sick of the other's antics they had be away for a few hours, even if for the sake of everyone in their vicinity). So for Fives to be left without Echo...

Fives looked down at his own bottle, swirling it gently. "Sometimes..." His hand stopped. "Sometimes I wonder if he's still there somewhere, watching."

Jesse understood. Every clone had felt that way at one point; once you lost that many brothers, part of you always hoped they never truly left, that you would find them again someday.

Fives went back to swirling his drink. "What do you think he'd say?"

"What do I think Echo would say?"

"Right now. What do you think he would say?"

"I'd think he'd say 'Fives, you shouldn't be drinking this much the day before a major training session, you idiot.' And then drag you home."

"I meant about the death thing."

"Okay, well I'd think he'd say "Fives, stop thinking about kriff like this. This is why you shouldn't be drinking this much the day before a major training session, you idiot.' And then still drag you home."

Fives let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He took a swig from the bottle. "I just really need to see him again."

Jesse softened slightly. He knew Fives needed someone to joke with him every now and again, especially when he was down, and he would always be that person, but he also knew that his brother was hurting. He would always be haunted by what happened at the Citadel. "I'm sure you will, vod."

"Really?" Fives stared at him.

"Yes." Jesse knocked back the last of his drink and stood up. "But not right now. I'm gonna take you back to the barracks before you give yourself alcohol poisoning. Kix is still mad at you for the last time you got too drunk."

"I didn't mean to throw up on his helmet!" Fives pushed himself up. "It was his own fault for leaving it on the floor."

_._._._._._._

"I just hope they're back together again."

"I know, Rex. I know. And I'm sure they are, causing as much havoc as they did when they were here." A small smile crossed Cody's face at the thought of those poor souls who finally thought they had found peace being made to deal with a couple of rascals in blue and white paint. "If anything, they're probably causing even more trouble. The entirety of Domino Squad, including two ARCs? It doesn't bear thinking about."

That got a laugh from the Captain. "Can you imagine Wolffe having to deal with that?"

"He'd defy all odds and come back from the dead if he was confronted with that lot."

The two sat there laughing. They'd decided not to go back to their camp, instead choosing to sit and watch the sun set on the horizon. It was calm, quiet, the most peaceful it had been in a long time. And they knew it wouldn't be for long. They had another mission to set out for tomorrow, but right now, in this moment, everything was still.

"How long do you think it would've taken Fives to try and climb that?" Rex pointed at a large, sprawling tree not too far from where they were sat. "I reckon he'd run at it the second he saw it."

"Yeah, he would. And then Echo would go storming off after him, muttering every curse word in the book, and threaten to drag his hide back to camp."

"You say that, but I can guarantee someone would've gone looking for them later and found both of them hanging out on a branch, ignoring all of their responsibilities."

An idea struck Cody.

"Race you up the tree."

Rex stared at him, wide-eyed. "Ya what?"

"Race you up that tree."

"What?! Why?! We're supposed to be the mature ones here, vod! We can't just go careening off into the forest to climb a tree!"

"Who says we can't? Our generals are currently elsewhere." Cody's eyes glinted with a mischievousness Rex hadn't seen since they were kids. "And you know Echo and Fives would've loved this."

"Which is exactly why it's a terrible idea!" Rex said frantically. "All plans that those two loved should never be touched with a hundred foot pole, let alone attempted!"

"Come on, vod. I thought you of all people would be a little more lenient than that. It'll be fun." Cody got up and brushed the dust off his legs. "Unless you're scared of getting caught."

Rex was silent, thinking. Cody knew he was winning. Just a little more pushing...

"Never thought I'd see the day that Captain Rex would give up and-"

"Oh you are on!" Cody watched Rex launch himself towards the tree, before sprinting after him, cackling.

With the wind in his face, and the dirt kicking up beneath thundering feet, he hoped that, wherever they were, the Domino Twins were laughing, revelling in the chaos of their two superiors barrelling through shrubs for a race up a tree. They deserved that extra laugh at least.

_._._._._._._

Rex couldn't believe it. After all this time. After all the mourning and the grief and the rage... Echo was alive.

Echo had been taken to be looked over as soon as they got back to Kamino, but Rex could still see him, clear as day. Pale, cold. Metal ports all over, pulling at the skin. Limbs fused to composite and wires and things no human should be bound to. So very different from the Echo that Rex remembered. But so very alive.

Everything hurt. Yes, they'd found one of their brothers, Echo, and had managed to bring him back home. But it hurt. It hurt to know that they had left him behind. It hurt to know that he had spent endless rotations in a constant state of torture. It hurt to know that Echo would never be able to go back to the man he once was.

And it hurt to know that Fives never knew.

Fives was gone. He died thinking he was the last Domino standing, died thinking that he would be reunited with all of his brothers, with Echo... but Echo was right here. Fives never knew that his brother lived. And he would never know.

They should've been reunited. The pain and grief Rex had seen in Fives was too much to think about. The way he had collapsed, screaming, and fallen asleep simply out of pure exhaustion after returning from the Citadel. They should never have been separated. And despite bringing Echo back, Rex had to fight the ever-looming shadow that was the knowledge that he would never be able to bring the two back together. A forever-fractured whole held in pieces by the gaping chasm of death. There was no way to bridge that gap, not without Echo being lost again.

And it hurt. In a situation that should have brought so much joy, it hurt. Because Echo knew.

Rex didn't have to say anything. Echo just knew. When he saw that Fives wasn't there to get him, it fell into place. There was no way his brother wouldn't have been there for him. Not unless he was gone. And in some ways it was worse. There was no screaming, or crying, or shouting as there had been with Fives. Simply silence. A silence so deafening that Rex had almost wished, almost begged, for Echo to break down. Because he could see the wound inside Echo grow wider and there was nothing he could do to close it.

It hurt. It hurt to know that Echo knew. To know that after coming back from all of that, all he went through, his home was gone, destroyed, brought to rubble by the simple fact that his other half wasn't there. Echo would never be the same after Skako Minor.

And he certainly wouldn't be the same without Fives.

_._._._._._._

"He should be here. After everything he did, he deserved to be here, fighting alongside us."

It was dark and Rex and Echo had hunkered down inside to escape the biting wind and lashing rain outside. Echo was due to go back to the Batch the following day and help them rescue Omega and the other clones from Tantiss, so the two had taken some time to just sit down and rest.

Rex knew it was going to be a rough night. There was too much going on to get any decent level of sleep, and Echo had hit the point where he was once again thinking about his lost brother. Rex couldn't blame him. It was hard not to think about Fives at a time like this.

"I mean, he was the one who found out about the chips in the first place. None of us would be here if it wasn't for him. He deserves to bring the whole system down." Echo was wound up, like a tightly coiled spring, and Rex was just waiting for something to snap. Whether it was now, or tomorrow, in a few rotations time, he didn't know. But he knew that Echo would snap eventually, and whoever was on the receiving end of that blind rage would not have a good time. That was something Rex was certain about.

"You're right." Rex responded. "He should be here. And I'm forever angry that he never got the chance to see this. But you know who is here?" Echo glanced at him. "Us. And if anyone can carry on his legacy, it's us, especially you."

His brother didn't say anything, simply turning to stare ahead of him.

The Captain continued. "I see him in you sometimes. Now more than ever." He chuckled. "You used to be the rule follower, the one who would try and keep Fives somewhat in check. Now I see you running around causing just as much mayhem as he used to. I've seen Jawas with weaker thieving skills than I've seen from you over the last few weeks!" He could see a smile tugging at the edge of Echo's lips.

"Just keeping you on your toes, old man."

"Hey now! I try telling you how proud I am and you give me even more grey hairs." Rex rolled his eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You were trying to tell me you were proud?"

"Yes!" Rex said with exasperation.

"You called me a thief." Echo's expression was blank but the Captain could see the twinkle in his eye. He was messing with him.

"Yes. And I was about to tell you how proud I was of your thievery but I'm not going to anymore."

"Are you mad that I called you old?"

"No."

"You're mad aren't you?" Rex should've been annoyed but when he saw the cheeky grin across his younger brother's face he couldn't help but melt.

Yep. Definitely like Fives.

"You'll be the death of me some day."

"I better not be," Echo said, slightly more serious. "People here need you."

"And they need you as well. I may outrank you Echo, and I may have more experience, but you are more than capable and you have proved yourself more than enough. We need you in this fight. We can't do it without you. I can't do it without you."

Echo had started to drift again. Rex could see it. "I just feel like I'm taking his place. That he should be here instead of me."

"You both deserve to be here." Rex put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You deserve to be here just as much as he does. You aren't taking his space vod'ika. Never forget that."

Echo gave him a small smile.

"I'm proud of you."

"I thought you said weren't going to tell me-"

"Fives would be proud of you."

Echo froze. Rex held his gaze firm, grip on his shoulder tightening.

"Go out there tomorrow and do what you do, vod'ika. We'll be with you every step of the way. Both of us."

Teary eyed, Echo glanced away and swallowed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, processing. Tomorrow was going to be difficult. It was going to be a push. But Rex knew his brother was more than capable. He just hoped and prayed he didn't lose him again.

Rex wasn't sure how he'd ended up in the position where he could lose one of the twins for a third time, but here he was. There was only so much time you could keep those two apart, and Rex knew that time was ticking down. For now he just hoped that it wouldn't be tomorrow.

Echo had started picking at the paint on his pauldron. The colour had started to chip away, but the orange still held some of its vibrancy. "You know..." Echo said, not looking up from the armour "Fives would be laughing at me right now."

Rex raised an eyebrow, confused. "And why would that be?"

Echo pointed at the wobble between the orange and white "Because I still can't paint the kriffing lines straight."

#another fic! #aren't you a lucky bunch #my brain seems to be running atm which is fun #I only ever intended for this to be like three snapshots #but I kept getting ideas #so enjoy #the bad batch #the clone wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #the domino twins #captain rex #commander cody #jess #Spotify

[petricorah]

lee from the tea shop boutta get it (wip) [id in alt]

edit: completed illustration here

#zuko #zukka #i wanted this to be a guiding hand #encouraging or like he's surprised it's happening but holding sokka's hand comfortingly #but something about the expression and the mouth makes it seem like he doesn't want it or he's afraid #i don't know i'll workshop this #mywips #i also havent read any ba sing se zukka fics but i do wonder how they'd work #like i totally buy that zuko was SO tunnel visioned to the avatar that he literally wouldn't know what sokka looks like #but i don't know how Sokka couldn't Not know who he is #unless maybe they met as blue spirit vigilante and sokka falls for him and this is the unveiling moment and zuko's afraid of his past #but sokka's like it's okay you're changing you've helped people as the blue spirit and i care about you. those feelings are real #even now #and zuko almost decides to change for the better right then but he gets scared and turns back and canon happens idk #mistaking his father's approval for love and his love for sokka as wrong #whatever. idc. something something i just wanted to draw short haired zuko

[geltears]

3's a crowd

(dad) Nanami Kento x Reader

Nanami works hard to give his daughter another sibling cw: shameless smut, dad!Nanami, fem!reader, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, breeding, fingering, spit kink, pure filth, dirty-talk -> prequel of heart throb

Nanami's heart pounds in his chest as he walks back to your shared bedroom. Your daughter's words have left his mind reeling, heart thrashing like a bird in a cage as her words replay on a loop.

"All my friends have siblings, I wanna be a big sister too."

Namiko was young, clueless and entirely oblivious to the true extent of what she had just asked of him. She was a cute baby,— she is an adorable child—and he honestly wouldn't mind another. He doesn't realise where his feet have taken him until he bounces his toe on the foot of your bed, groaning in pain soon after.

When you look up from your book, your eyebrows are scrunched in worry as you reach for your husband's arm. Like a pre-mature teenage boy, his cock twitches in his pants at the mere feel of your skin on his.

"Nami? Everything alright?"

"Mhm," he hums, "There's just something we need to talk about."

Nanami's breath becomes more rapid as he moves closer to you on the bed and his tongue seems to have a mind of it's own, desperate to speak to you, "Namiko wants a sibling."

His words are punctuated by the rough pads of his fingers rubbing loving circles into your clit through your thin panties as he tries to get you in the mood and it suddenly becomes all too clear what his intentions are--

He plans to give her the sibling she so desperately wants.

Your husband is large as he crawls on top of you, his big burly shoulders easily overshadow your frame and it makes your pussy twitch in anticipation. Your heart is thumping savagely in your chest with the rapid rise and fall of your tits— if Nanami was a bit sicker he would've slipped them into his big palms: one tit per hand and he would fondle and tease your sensitive nipples until you were leaking through your panties against his knee.

But Nanami is impatient, eager to bury every inch of his throbbing cock in your tight heat and ruin you until he was sure there was another little blonde baby in your belly.

He leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy and mushy kiss, "Hmm. Another baby wouldn't be so bad, right?" he breathes against your lips.

You've been married for years but you feel filthy with the way he's speaking to you, string of spit still connecting your lips and glistening in your dimly lit room.

"We make cute babies," you agree, in the way that a woman does when her husband plucks the stars out of the sky for her, "Make me a mommy again, Ken."

He shivers at your tone, feeling very much like a virgin again- Had his wife always been this coy? Or were the hearts in your eyes just extra big tonight?

You whimper at the feel of his ring and middle fingers easing into you, cold metal of his wedding ring pressing snuggly against your pussy. Nanami bends down to get an eye-level view of your pussy, hot breath fanning against your slick folds as he regards, "I love you and your sloppy cunt."

He keeps his fingers nestled against that squishy spot that makes your toes curl and digs them in to rub deliciously at your sweet spot and spits a fat glob of spit onto your clit.

"Hngg right there Ken."

And then he's sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth, tongue swirling as he steadily thrusts his fingers in and out of you until your thighs are shaking around his head. He eats your pussy through your orgasm, loving gaze drinking in your blissful expression as his tongue teases your hole to taste your cum.

"Nami kiss me," you're practically begging, flimsy arms outstretched to take him into your embrace.

You suck his tongue into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue in a way so lewd that both your faces flush bright red. His gaze is filled with nothing but love and lust— you think you could get pregnant just from the way he's ogling you.

"Nami- Nami put it in," you gasp, small hands fumbling with his belt as you try to get to his cock, "Please, Ken."

Nanami swats your hand away sternly.

"Lie back," he says and you obey gingerly. "Now show me your cunt."

When he thinks you're taking too long, he reaches down himself and spreads your legs to reveal your glistening cunt to the cold air. Your hole twitches under his stare, clenching around nothing as you desperately wait for him to fuck you.

Nanami is in love with you, he has been since senior year and he'll stay in love with you even after you're both dead. He'd do anything for you so he's determine to give you another baby.

It'll have your eyes— just like your little girl— he thinks and presses the leaking tip of his cock into you. "Oh god- Kento, you're so fucking big," you squeal, "I can't take it- Nonono."

He shushes you softly with a kiss, one that instantly makes you loosen up a bit and lets him push another inch into you. "I know," he whispers against your skin, "How're you gonna give me a baby if you won't even let me in?"

Desperate to please your husband, you cunt seems to welcome him gracefully, making wet sounds as he bottoms out. His moan as his balls press against your ass is sinful, making you groan all the same.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heat pooling in your belly as he twitches inside you. He's so big and thick and you love him and his fat cock. When you start to hump yourself against his cock, he squeezes your hip roughly and draws his hips back until just the tip is still nestled inside your cunt.

Your slick bubbles out of your hole around his tip and squelches when his hips slam back into you. "Pussy's fucking soaked- she's begging me for a baby." You whine in response, pretty manicured nails raking down his back in an attempt to keep him deep inside of you.

The tip of his cock bumps deliciously against your cervix and tears dribble from the corners of your eyes. He feels so fucking good- this is what it's like to have sex to make a baby. A baby born of love.

"Yesyesyes, cum in me Nami," you babble, mind lost with pleasure, "Gimme your cum- put a baby in me."

His pace is rabid now, hips shaking like a dog as he fucks into you wildly. His balls smack against your ass and your pussy squeezes him like a vice, working to milk him for all he's worth— for your precious baby. And he'll give it to you- he'll fill you up and keep your pussy stuffed of him until you're both satisfied.

"Tell me you want my baby- tell me you want me," he rasps. His hand snakes between your sweaty bodies to fiddle with your clit. He flicks it softly and rolls your wet nub between his fingers, pushing you closer to the edge.

"C'mon say it and I'll make you cum all over my cock."

"I want your baby, Nami! I only want you," your words slur as he cuts you off with a sweet kiss.

He meshes his tongue with yours and fucks your throat with his tongue as his cock plunges roughly into you. He makes you pussy sore and your heart ache as your entire body shakes and convulses in a series of bursts. And your pussy becomes so impossibly tight that he's got no choice but to slot his hips against yours and buck strangely into you as he cums.

He cums in hot, thick spurts and he makes sure to press his tip right up against the depths of your cunt so it all rests nicely in your belly.

.

.

Ao3

#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #dad nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento imagine #fem reader #ns4w #ella🌬

[dramaticals]

following instructions

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: enemies with benefits with theo where they're constantly insulting each other but they still can't get enough. smut. au where characters at hogwarts are aged up to be 19+. mdni. / requested by anonymous.

author's note: co-wrote this with lily (@softeliza) <3 we honestly wrote this as a theo x hermione, but swapped hermione for reader

✧ read part two: following instructions (headcanons) ✧

Theo's judging eyes watch as you dice the sopophorous bean before tossing it into your cauldron, your gaze shifting between your opened textbook and your cauldron. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead. You were meticulously following the directions, and yet something still didn't seem right about your potion.

Theo scoffs, shaking his head. What an idiot, he thinks.

"You're supposed to crush it." Theo says, demonstrating pointedly with a silver dagger and popping the squashed bean into his own cauldron. The cauldron bubbles, and the liquid shifts a shade darker.

"You're supposed to follow the instructions, which clearly say to cut it," you say through gritted teeth.

Potions was the one class Theo never followed the directions for, and yet he always seemed to be doing significantly better than you. You hated that.

"You know," you add with a huff, annoyance laced in your words. "Just because you don't respect the rules any other time doesn't mean you shouldn't follow a simple recipe."

There was something about pissing you off that gave Theo the right amount of joy to get him through the day. Hearing you huff at his words was like finding a jelly slug in a mountain of acid pops. It was glorious.

"Do you believe everything you read?" Theo asks mockingly, his eyes unmoving from the cauldron in front of him. He doesn't know why he was helping you—this was meant to be a competition for the coveted felix felicis. Maybe it was because Theo knew you weren't going to listen to him anyway. "Besides, I respect the rules." Theo says, but even he can't keep a straight face at his claim, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"I believe everything I read in a textbook," you say, your eyes narrowing and your mouth falling open in shock. Was he serious? "You know, that book of words that literally outlines how to make the potion? How else would you know how to brew it?" You hope he doesn't notice the genuine curiosity in your question. You actually wanted to know how Theo knew what to do all the time. It was so infuriating.

"Natural intelligence and charm." Theo says coolly.

In actuality, Theo had managed to find a textbook filled with inscriptions, correcting the printed text with tips and tricks on how to brew a potion every time. But he wasn't going to tell you that. Theo would gladly and happily let you believe he was gifted.

Theo peeks at your cauldron and has to hold a snort back. It looked just about ready to implode.

"This is a simple recipe, huh?" Theo muses. "Is that why your potion looks and smells like absolute shit?"

"Maybe I just thought I'd throw you a scrap with this one. I mean, we both know you're in desperate need of some luck, especially on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone needs this win, it's you."

"Oh, so you watch me on the pitch, do you?" Theo says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. Curse him.

Theo stirs counterclockwise a few times and then once again clockwise. The potion bubbles again. This time, it shifts into its final colour form. Bingo.

Theo, with an expression beaming with pride, calls over Professor Slughorn to inspect the potion. You zero in on Theo's cauldron and let out a small sigh. You didn't need confirmation from Slughorn to know that Theo did it. That bloody asshole did it.

Slughorn tosses a single leaf into the cauldron. The leaf disintegrates, and Slughorn clasps his hands together and announces, "We have a winner! Class dismissed!"

As Theo receives congratulations from all around, you begin to tidy your workspace, empty your cauldron, and pack your things. Anger boils in your stomach. As much as you tried to avert your gaze from Theo, your eyes are drawn to the tiny vile Slughorn passes to Theo. With a triumphant smirk thrown your way, he tucks the potion into his pocket before cleaning his workspace.

"Try to use it for something other than trying to sleep with girls," you quip, clutching your books to your chest. The confident, holier-than-thou persona slips over you like a glove. It was a default shield whenever you felt threatened, especially academically. And Theo was often on the receiving end of it all. "I mean, I'm sure you could use some luck in that department, but I doubt that's what Zygmunt Budge had in mind."

"I'm doing quite well in that department, actually." Theo says. With looks and an attitude like his, girls were flocking to him like nifflers to gold. "Much like potions, really. They all just come to me."

Theo awaits your signature glare and snarky remark, but he was simply met with a silent shove to his shoulder as you headed to the door. His brows furrow, disappointed in the lack of repartee, before Theo's walking after you. He falls into step with you, following you through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon.

"What's the rush, little lion? Can't stomach losing?"

"I'm not in a rush; I just don't want to be around you. Don't you have some dingy hole to crawl back into?" You fume, your grip on your textbooks tightens, and your pace quickens.

"You wound me." Theo simpers, clutching his chest in mock-hurt.

Being in Theo's presence was getting you more and more riled up. You felt like you were minutes away from becoming a human version of a Filibuster Firework. Theo loved when you got like this. He can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realized why he liked seeing you so worked up, but he's quickly reminded by the staggered breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Theo continues to stroll alongside you, an air of arrogance in each step he takes. You quickly realize you have no idea where you're headed. The echoing of both your steps, coupled with the hovering nuisance on your side, makes you let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. You turn to Theo, glaring daggers into his stormy eyes.

"Can you just go? You're so—ugh." You growl, unable to find the proper words.

Theo's brows perk upward. There's something familiar about the expression you give him. He'd seen it before. Last time he'd seen it, the two of you ended up christening the boy's change room after a Quidditch match—Slytherin should beat Gryffindor more often.

Before you can articulate your frustrations, Theo grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a vacant classroom. The feeling of his fingers around your wrist sends a jolt of warmth straight through your body. Theo pins you against the door, your books falling to the floor with a sharp thud. He skillfully locks the door with a slight flick of his wand before muttering the muffliato charm and putting his wand away. Darkened eyes meet your gaze, a mixture of amusement and want in his eyes.

"I'm so what?" Theo demands. His hand caresses your cheek before roughly wrapping around the base of your throat. "Use your words."

Your mind goes hazy, as if you've been confunded, the moment you feel his hand on your throat. You'd never admit how much you loved when Theo did that.

With a shaky breath, you meet his intense gaze to say, "Infuriating."

The way you reacted to Theo's touch was unlike any other girl he had the pleasure of fucking at Hogwarts. You were just so obvious, and Theo had no shame in admitting that he found it all extremely arousing. Of course, your mouth would claim otherwise, but Theo always had a plan to occupy your pretty little mouth.

You bite down on your lip, stifling the whimper begging to escape. Your breathing is in sync with each other, and the sexual tension makes the air around you thick.

"Are you going to fix it? Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" You tempt, leaning up slightly, just to see if he'll close the gap between your lips and his.

"I don't know," Theo responds, keeping a fair distance—only enough for your lips to brush lightly against his. To keep you wanting. Theo leans into your neck, ghosting breathy, teasing kisses up until he's milimeters away from your ear. "Are you going to say please?"

"You've got to be kidding," you huff, shooting a glare at Theo as you try to keep your breathing steady.

You weren't exactly experienced, at least not like Theo. You had a few moments with others, but no one had ever gotten you to feel as good as Theo did. It enraged you that Theo knew how good he made you feel, but you also took pleasure in knowing that you must be riling him up just as equally because Theo always seemed to come crawling back.

You bring your free hand up, tangling your fingers in his lush, brown locks, before tugging his head back a bit so he could look at you. He groans at this. It was one of many acts that really got Theo going, and it just so happened to be where your hands gravitated to the most.

"Please," you say, the tiniest of smirks on your lips.

Anticipation runs through your veins. You didn't need to say anything else. By the way he was looking at you, his lustful eyes boring into your gaze, Theo knew you needed him right now.

"Good girl," he muses with a cocky grin.

The first time Theo had praised you like that, while laced with ridicule, it had elicited a whimper that had him reeling. Today was no different.

Theo moves his hand from your throat and down to your waist, expertly pulling you away from the door and onto the desks behind him. Theo wastes no time and captures your lips with his. One hand finds your thigh, teasing up your bare skin and under your skirt. Your hands find and tug at his belt. Theo unbuckles it and tosses it aside.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Theo says hotly against your lips.

It was in your nature to be good. But with Theo, there was that bubbling voice inside you that beckoned you to misbehave—to get under his skin. To be bad, all so he could teach you a lesson. Which is why, as Theo plants nippy, wet kisses down your neck, you can't help the words that blurt out of your mouth.

"Let's see if you can make me shake, like—what was that bloke's name..." You trail off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

There was no other guy, of course, but you wanted him to think otherwise. The mischievous glint in your eyes changes to amusement as Theo's eyes darken. His fingers drag possessively across the insides of your thighs. It was hard for Theo to imagine you with someone else. You two weren't exclusive by any means, but the way you'd whimper and dig your nails into his back had him feeling territorial.

"Shake?" Theo asks against your lips. There was a tinge of something in his tone, and, deep down, you wanted it to be jealousy. "I'll fucking make you shake."

Feverish kisses move down your neck, eliciting a whine out of you, his free hands taking residence on the base of your throat. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive spots along your neck, sucking softly on the skin, surely leaving a mark everyone would be able to see. Theo pulls back to admire his work. He's pleased. You, on the other hand, were equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because the sensation made the blood rush to your cheeks and to your core, and annoyed because you had to explain the markings to your friends.

"Theo," you hiss. "You know better."

Theo doesn't listen, obviously. Instead, he moves down your body until he's crouched and face-to-cunt. Slender fingers reach under your skirt, hook onto your panties, and slide the garment off. In an instant, Theo's between your legs, lapping his tongue relentlessly over your clit.

"Oh my god," you gasp, one hand grasping onto the edge of the desk, your back arching instinctively to bring yourself closer to his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair again, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

Theo's smirks into your core, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels you roll onto his mouth. Strong hands position themselves on either leg, urging you to spread your legs wider. You try to obey his silent requests, but it's not enough. Impatience hits him hard, and he's repositioning your legs so they're slung over his shoulders, a firm hand pushing your hips down onto the wooden desk. The new position allowed him to be flush against you, his tongue circling your entrance and lapping up any arousal.

"Theo," you moan, louder than normal.

You could tell he was pissed. It'd always been your goal, especially in intimate settings, but Theo had never been like this. He buries his face between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue works on your opening. He dips a finger in and withdraws it out of you slowly, contrasting his unyielding tongue. Your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"More," you choke out. "Please, give me more."

Your moans were fueling the already raging fire in him. Fuck, he needed to hear more of that. Theo uses his free hand to hold you steady, his tongue and lips unrelenting. He adds another digit inside of you, curling his fingers against your spot. Theo wanted to make you cum now more than ever. He wanted you to remember that even if you were fucking someone else, he was the only one who could make you unravel like this.

"Sit fucking still then," he growled against your slit, stormy eyes shooting up to look at you.

You fight hard to listen to him, desperately trying not to squirm. Theo was cruel enough to stop and leave you high and dry, so it was in your best interest to do as instructed. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep your focus on something other than the pleasure growing inside of you.

"Th-Theo," you gasp. "I—"

You're close, and you know what Theo wants—what he always wants. Theo wanted you to ask for permission, and with the image of someone else messing with you fresh in his mind, Theo needed to know he had that control over you now more than ever. Breathy pants fill the room, and you fear you can't hold it back any longer.

"Fuck, please. Can I please..." You moan, throwing your head back against the desk.

"Please what?" Theo says roughly against you. If Theo's cock wasn't already erect, it would be now. Your moans and gasps of pleasure were truly something that needed to be studied. Who knew these delightfully ragged breaths could come out of someone so irritatingly uptight? "Words, Y/L/N."

The fog of pleasure Theo has you in has made it impossible for you to do the one thing you pride yourself on: following the instructions. Typically, Theo would remove himself and make you beg for contact. Today, though, his actions were ceaseless. Despite your strong will to be good, your body wouldn't cooperate.

"Oh my god," you whimper, your back arching as an intense orgasm washes over you. Your body jerks—no, shakes—and your moans are broken up by desperate gasps as wave after wave hits you.

Theo curses under his breath. As pissed as he was that you didn't ask, Theo graciously allows you to release on his tongue, lapping up your sweet fluids. He'd reprimand you later. As you come down from your high, your body collapses onto the desk. You've never felt anything like that before.

Theo stands and slides his fingers out of you slowly. His darkened, lustful eyes are trained on yours. As much as he enjoyed the view, Theo wasn't happy.

"Don't," you breathe. "I know—I should have... I know."

"So much for following instructions," Theo says, disregarding your words. He licks your arousal off his fingers casually, and the sight makes you shift and clench your thighs together. He was the hottest irritant you've ever seen.

"Fuck off," you say with an exasperated huff. You prop yourself up by your elbows, slowly moving into a sitting position. "You didn't exactly help the situation."

So maybe Theo was being a bit of a prick. Not like he could help it—you squirming and moaning for him like that triggered something primal in him. Theo didn't want to stop; he wanted to make you scream for him. Still, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask.

By the way Theo was looking at you, you could tell it would take more than a crass brush-off to wipe the icy glare and pouted lips from his expression. Delicate fingers grip onto Theo's shirt, tugging him closer to you. You ghost your lips against his, meeting his steely gaze. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You don't wait for a response. Instead, you nip at his bottom lip before pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. Despite his annoyance, Theo kisses back, placing a strong hand behind your neck to keep you in place. The kiss is full of passion, anger, and need.

You maneuver yourself off the desk, unbreaking the hot kiss, as you reposition so that Theo's the one against the desk. He acknowledges you taking charge, and he allows it because, quite frankly, whenever you did take charge, Theo found it extremely intoxicating.

Only now do you break the kiss, peering up at Theo as your hands fumble with his pants. He kicks them off just as you remove your own top, making a point of leaving your bra intact. Theo's breath catches. God, he wanted to bury his face between the valley of your breasts.

"So?" You ask again, a devilish smirk on your lips, your fingers making progress on unbuttoning his collared shirt. "Will you?"

"Go on, then." Theo says. It's not lost on him how much leniency he gives you—not just in this moment. Any other girl who disobeyed his instructions would have been tossed aside so he could move on to the next. But with you, as vexing as you were, you also very much intrigued him.

At his permission, you lightly push him back so he's sitting on the desk, giving him a much comfortable position to watch as you slowly unhook your bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. You can sense his probing eyes on you, and you can't help the sly smile that appears as you straddle him, one leg on each side of him.

Theo's hands find your waist immediately, slowly sliding up your sides, to your bare back, and then to your front. He squeezes your breasts, eliciting a breathy moan from you. Your skin was soft under his rough hands.

"And I thought you were going to let that ego of yours make a horrible choice for the both of us." You tease.

Theo's too enamoured with this new position (and view) to respond to your jests. One hand rests firmly on your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Meanwhile, your hand moves to stroke his length, feeling Theo grow even harder at your touch.

"Shit," Theo groans.

"Someone's missed me," you whisper against his lips. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock, evoking a slight twitch out of him.

"God, shut up."

Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe—no, fuck—that smug expression on your face. And he's just about ready to take matters into his own hands, but you beat him to it.

Still wet from your previous orgasm, you were beyond ready to have Theo inside you. You lift yourself up slightly, guiding him to your entrance. He bites back a groan, his hands gripping your waist. You lock gazes as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your mouth falling open in a glorious 'o' shape as you take all of him into you.

While this wasn't the first time you had Theodore Nott resting deeply in your cunt, you took a moment to adjust.

"Are you going to move, or what?" Theo growls impatiently, bucking his hips and roughly nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

His impatience makes you smirk.

"Hey," you say, with a wry smile. You snake your fingers up to his hair, tugging his head back slightly to give you room to trail a path of kisses along his neck. You were going to prolong this and make you both ache for more. You didn't want to be the only one who was a moaning mess today. "If I'm making it up to you, then it's my rules."

"You know I don't give a shit about rules."

"Too bad."

This makes Theo's jaw clench. Before he can utter another quip, you're rolling your hips, feeling him embedded inside you. The movement feels good, but you know it's not enough for either of you just yet.

"God, I'm thankful your ego isn't the only thing that's big," you moan against his ear.

This makes Theo's jaw clench. You hear a string of curse words in another language, something you've noticed Theo does in moments where his brain had short-circuited. Enough sense, it seems, is knocked back into him as you can understand the breathless words, "And you take me so fucking well."

Theo's lips find the top of your chest, kissing down feverishly. His tongue flicks expertly against your right nipple as his hand moves to grip your bare ass from under your skirt. You arch into him, letting out a sharp gasp at the dual sensation. Despite his sentiment about rules, Theo lets you control the pace. He holds back the strong desire to thrust upwards into you, to fuck you hard.

"Oh, Theo," you whine as you continue to roll your hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, almost completely off his dick. Ghosting your lips against his, you push yourself back down—hard—feeling him go even deeper. You repeat these movements, your moans growing louder.

Theo can't stop the thoughts of how gorgeous you looked from clouding his mind. You weren't bad to look at normally, but seeing you fuck yourself with his cock had to be one of the wonders of the world. Only if that were a reality, Theo's not sure he could stand anyone else ogling you like this.

"Yes, that... that feels good." Theo groans, his cock throbbing from your movements.

You press your forehead against his, your eyes locking with his as you continue. One of the things Theo liked most about this little arrangement was your unnerving ability to keep eye contact—there was nothing more sexy than seeing the woman you were pleasuring crumble. Eyes can tell you everything.

"I'm trying to—" you breathe, rocking yourself against him. The movement wasn't nearly fast enough, but the way you were moving had him reaching depths you didn't know were attainable. "—to be good."

"Are you?" Theo asks between pants, squeezing your ass roughly. He leans into your lips. "Can you be a good girl for me now?"

You give him a small nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your breath is quavering as you try to speak; your eyes re-lock onto his. "Am I not being good for you?"

This makes him chuckle darkly. Theo wasn't an idiot. He knew you practically yearned for his words of praise. The knowledge was something he took advantage of from time to time, withholding and dangling his praise in front of you just to see how far you'd go to make him say it.

To prove to Theo you were being good, you push yourself down onto him roughly, a whimper escaping your lips. You increase your speed, unable to hold out anymore, fucking yourself hard, deep, and fast on his cock.

"Fuck." Theo swears, and he can't help himself now. Hands keep you in place as he fucks up into you, cock hitting your spot repeatedly and mercilessly. He relishes the feeling of your wet core around him. Your clit presses against his pelvis at each thrust.

You took pleasure (literally and figuratively) in Theo's natural ability in knowing. He knew what to say, how to touch you so you were melting, and when to take back control. His hands digging into your hips told you everything you needed to know: Theo was going to fuck you senseless.

"I want to be good," you pant, your nails digging into his back, grasping for a release.

"Then you know what I want to hear."

He holds you flush against him, arms wrapping around you as he continues to thrust. He can feel his own pleasure grow. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you feel it building up in your stomach again. This time, you weren't going to wait until it was too late.

"Theo, please," you practically beg. Theo was the only person who'd ever make you feel like this, and you were past the point of caring whether he knew it too. "Can I cum, please? For you."

"Yes," Theo hisses. He was close too. "Cum for me. Now."

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your head falling back as you drag your nails into his skin. Theo continues to thrust up sharply, chasing the high for the both of you. You clench around his length, the sensation mixed with your moans pushing Theo over the edge.

"That's my good girl."

Theo's praise for you was not lost in the chorus of breathy moans and grunts of pleasure. His addition of the word 'my' made you shake even more as another wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Oh, God, yes, Theo."

His hand moves to the back of your neck desperately, guiding you into him for a passionate kiss as he spills into you with a moan.

Ragged breaths fill the room. There was always a moment of limbo after every encounter—a moment where the two of you stayed entangled and nestled with each other, savouring the proximity and stealing last, sweet kisses. You knew the moment you got up, the two of you would go back to despising each other again, until next time.

"So?" Theo asks after a moment, expectant of an answer, as if you could read his mind. "That dumb git you mentioned earlier. Was he better than me?"

His question makes you smirk, and you have to bite it back so as not to show how content you were that he had lingered on that thought.

"You don't want me to answer that," you say, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. You slip back into your clothes and adjust your hair.

The answer should have been obvious to Theo, but you weren't giving him the satisfaction of admitting it because it did nothing for your reality. This was as far as this would go. Theodore Nott was a pretentious asshole who just so happened to be a good fuck. There was never going to be more than that.

"You definitely exceeded expectations today, Theo," you say, gathering your books from the floor. "But you didn't do anything worth an outstanding."

With a swift flick of your wand, you unlock the door and leave Theo in the vacant classroom, already fantasizing about next time.

#if you squint this is theo x ravenclaw reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smutt #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott #*writing

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they get jealous . . . ☆

warnings - mainly just fluff, maybe a hint of yandere if you squint, insecurities, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n or reader and jealousy from our fave spiders.

word count - 2.4k

main masterlist <33 | proof read?: yes.

based off of this request: jealous hc !!

. . . ☆ miles morals!e-1610

He'll try and ignore the nasty feeling of jealousy but it's tough when all he can think about is how joyous you look spending time with another guy that isn't him.

It slowly eats away at him the more time you two spend away from each other, and sooner or later you'd notice the change in his demeanor. He was quieter, his greetings weren't the same, and his energy constantly seemed low. Every time you said something he'd reply with a simple hum of acknowledgment and if you were trying to cheer him up with a corny joke the only thing you'd receive was a faulty breath from his lips and a lopsided grin.

His hugs weren't bone-crushing anymore, his texts were in one-words, and even when you two shared a class he acted different. Instead of the usual passing notes and quiet laughter at inside jokes, he simply turned his body towards the window and stayed quiet. He didn't spare a single glance in your direction until the bell rang. Even then he didn't look at you, blankly staring at the floor while gathering his things and blearily walking out with slouched shoulders.

So many confusing thoughts and hurt feelings from made-up scenarios circled around his brain. He wanted to talk to you so badly and just make sure everything was okay. He just didn't know how to approach it, so it continued to eat at him until you confronted him about it.

You saw him walking his usual route towards his place and couldn't help but chase him down. You constantly pestered him and asked him questions to get to the root of the problem but all he did was respond with simple phrases like "I'm fine.", "M' just tired.", and "Nah, I'm good."

Your dedication and unwillingness to let him go home angry finally paid off when he snapped. His words jumbling and his hands flailing in the air as he unleashed every thought and feeling that led to that moment.

Once he finished his rant, you two stood across from each other in complete silence. His chest lifted up and down as if he was exhausted. No words could come to your mouth, but your legs moved without hesitation and before you knew it your arms engulfed him in a tight hug. You felt bad for not being able to express how you felt in words but all miles needed was reassurance and your arms being wrapped around him was more than enough.

. . . ☆ miles morales! e-42

Miles is very straight-forward and blunt. He speaks his mind, which can be a blessing and a curse. With his over-protective nature and blank-like expressions he's more intimidating than most, especially when confronting people he thinks are getting too chummy with you. If a guy is checking you out, miles will speak up before you even notice. "ay, you got a starin' problem or sum?" in situations like these he tends to get touchier with you. Either resting a hand on your hip or hanging his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

Miles has a certain phrase that he says whenever you scold him for being so confrontational. "They gon have to get through me to get to you." and he tends to stand on that word.

Miles isn't shy of confronting people, or even using violence when it comes down to it. He prefers to handle situations like these with as least violence as possible. He doesn't want to subject you to that kind of thing, if anything he wants to keep you away from it. It's why he's so protective of you and also why you don't know he's the prowler.

You were walking home late at night all by yourself, and as much as you wanted miles to be there with you, he couldn't. You texted him letting him know you'd be staying late after school because of a project. He mentioned how he wouldn't want you walking home by yourself, especially so late at night. So, he decided he'd drive you back home on his motorcycle.

But when the time came for him to pick you up, you were left stranded. He never returned your countless calls or text messages which led into you walking back home all by yourself. Uncomfortable would be an understatement to describe the way you felt as you whisked your way passed sketchy groups of people with your head down. You took shortcuts and turned into ally's to get away from any potential threats not knowing you'd walk right into the hands of one.

A tall lanky man with sunken eyes somehow cornered you in-between the brick wall of a random apartment complex. You were terrified. Your legs grew weak, and your nose started to sting in warning of the incoming tears. All you could do was push your body as far as you possibly could into the wall behind you. Desperately hoping it would engulf you and take you as far away as possible from the situation.

You shut your eyes, bracing for whatever torturous impact to come. Fortunately, it never did. Instead you felt a swift gust of wind past you and the sound of a hard thud paired with a low groan. You cracked your eyes open only to see the mask of the most-feared vigilante in New York. He walked closer and closer until he was finally hovering over you, his mask nearly touching your nose.

As you stood frozen in shock, a clawed hand rested next to your face. "What I say? They gotta get through me to get to you."

. . . ☆ gwen stacy

Gwen is a liar. You can ask her if she's jealous and she'd respond with a scoff and wobbly smirk, scratching the side of her head before replying with something along the lines of "Jealous? No, way." when in reality she's seething. She wants to be completely secure and unbothered like Hobie, but there's always this nagging voice in the back of her head that fills her with annoyance and bitterness.

When someone shows any type of romantic interest in you she'll get tense and her cool facade will be replaced by her visible discomfort. She knows you love her and is continuously reminded when you shut down any confessions, but that painful uneasiness still comes no matter what.

Depending on what mood she's in that day she'll either tense up and shy away from the situation or desperately try to avert your attention back to her.

When one of your classmates walks up to you complimenting you and eyeing you up and down, Gwen's hand that was loosely holding yours fell to her side before returning to her jacket pocket. Her shoulders squared to her ears as she quietly sighed and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She avoided eye-contact with you and the person, choosing to look around the hallway as if she wasn't eaves-dropping into the conversation. (she was)

Once the person leaves she'll grab your hand and start pulling you towards the exit "that was weird, right?" she'd murmured half-jokingly while nudging her shoulder with yours.

The next time you and that person interact is when Gwen is over your place. Once you excuse yourself from the conversation and take the call from your classmate, Gwen once again gets antsy. But she's much more combative this time around. She'll snatch her drumsticks up and start tapping on any and all surfaces she can reach. Calling out your name to get your attention so you can focus on her instead of your classmate.

All in all it really depends on what mood you catch her in. She can either be awkward and tense or combative and loud. At the end of the day all she wants is your attention.

. . . ☆ pavitr prabhakar

Pavitr is quite secure in himself and in the relationship, but he does get jealous on occasion. Never from a situation of you simply getting hit on or someone complimenting you, more so from his own insecurities and made-up scenarios that he plays in his head.

He enjoys the time you two have together fully enveloped in each others presence. So, when that time gets interrupted by someone he gets sulky. Time is already very limited for pavitr. With school and his spider duties on top of it he doesn't have as much time to spend with you as he wants. So once he gets you alone he doesn't want a single distraction to interrupt your private time.

A part of him feels guilty that he isn't able to spend much time with you. He has a small insecurity that pops up every now and then, telling himself that you deserve someone who's more attentive and available to your needs. He wants to be that man for you but his responsibilities prevent him from doing so.

You've already mentioned to Pav that you understand he's a busy man with a hefty schedule, so any time you two spend together is valued and cherished. It makes him happy that you're so forgiving and transparent but that doesn't stop the self-shaming thoughts of how bad of a boyfriend he sometimes thinks he is.

Pavitr has a habit of getting you gifts. When his guilty conscience is eating at him for missing out on a romantic date or simple hangout, he tends to buy you more gifts than usual. A single rose will turn into a bouquet, A cute hand-beaded bracelet will turn into a full jewelry set, a bedazzled headband will turn into multiple hair scrunchies and a full pack of hair care.

Once you've noticed this habit you were quick to shut it down, you didn't want him spending money every time he felt bad for having to bail and do his spider duties.

All he needs is to be pampered and reminded that what you want is him, and only him. Tell him how much you adore him and smuggle him in affection. Whether it be words of affirmation, quality time, or physical touch, Pavitr will immediately be putty in your hands. Just being engulfed by you and having you dote on him will immediately wash away any and all bad thoughts.

. . . ☆ hobie brown

Hobie doesn't really get jealous. He's extremely secure in himself and the relationship. If you're the type of person who likes to flirt for fun or is just naturally flirty, he wouldn't even bat an eye at you coyly chatting with another person.

Hobie knows you only have eyes for him so he never gets defensive or jealous by your coquettish attitude with others. You know where home is and at the end of the day you always return. But that's only with flirting. If you tend to get touchy or make-out with other people then he would get annoyed and slightly agitated. Especially if you'd established there was something between you two.

He wouldn't particularly mind other people flirting with you unless someone was genuinely being creepy and overbearing. He wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable for any reason in any situation. So, seeing you nervously fiddle with your hands or curl into yourself when certain advances were made would enrage him to an extent. These are the times Hobie will take on a more defensive/protective role.

He doesn't get into many brawls (mainly because he doesn't have to) He's quite intimidating so when he tells someone to back down they're gonna back down, quickly and efficiently. If anyone had the balls to step to Hobie in a threatening way they'd def be met with more than they could handle.

But in most situations Hobie usually just plays along with the flirting. He knows you're a good piece of eye-candy so it's not surprising to him whenever you get hit on. His chest also can't help but swell in pride when you mention that you have a partner, who just so happens to be Hobie.

Imagine you're both at the pub. Sitting at the bar, and leaning into each other with lovesick smiles. The sweet exchange of teasing words was interrupted by the gruff voice of the bartender setting down an alcoholic drink you weren't really familiar with. "Compliments from the gentleman over there." he murmured, tilting his head towards a man who sat across the bar. Before you could even fully react Hobie grabbed the glass and downed it within seconds. "Cheers, mate." he responded with a smile while lifting the glass in the air.

You just grow to love and laugh at his antics.

. . . ☆ miguel o'hara

You'll know he's jealous. Miguel is very obvious when he's bothered by something, even when he tries to hide it.

His movements are more stiff than usual and if you're close enough you can hear him lowly spitting profanities in his native tongue. Not to mention when he gets jealous to the point he's genuinely angry his claws will shoot out. There are multiple claw marks on couches and different desks at the headquarters that have yet to be fixed.

He angry pouts but he doesn't really know it. Whenever you're having a conversation with someone and it's prolonged for a little too long or the person you're speaking to is showing some type of interest in you, Miguel will just tower over you from behind with crossed arms and an annoyed look. as he stares the person down.

You're the most important thing in Miguel's life. He's already lost so much in different lifetimes and a part of him feels like he should live his life alone, suffering without a family or a lover simply because he feels like he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you.

There will be times where he tries to push you away, a part of him feels like if he pushes you away enough and tries to emotionally disconnect from the relationship you leaving him won't hurt as much. You have to be patient and reassure him that you're not going anywhere. The only reason he does stuff like that is because a small part of him genuinely believes you'll leave him at some point.

He tends to be overbearing when he gets jealous. Pushing you behind him when someone starts to be a bit suggestive, staring down anyone who he thinks is getting too comfortable with you, and butting in convos to speak for you when he's close to going over the edge.

Miguel can be overprotective and extremely overbearing at times, but it's always because he has your best interest in mind. He needs you in his life and to keep you he will deflect any and all threats that try and take you away.

A/N🪷: whenever i think of e-42 miles the killmonger music starts playing in my head lol

this was also a little rushed because i've been busy with work and im a little sleep-deprived, BUT i will come back with another fic soon <3 ty lovelies :)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #prowler miles #atsv gwen #gwen x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv headcanons

[luveline]

I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕

thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k

Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since. 

She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks. 

"I wanna see Spence," you murmur. 

Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary. 

"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me." 

"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way." 

You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do. 

It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door. 

"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands. 

"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger. 

He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that. 

"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.

"I don't feel like me," you say. 

Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last." 

"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid. 

"I know." 

You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this. 

"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay." 

The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand. 

"Concerning, right?" Emily asks. 

Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?" 

"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand." 

"Where are her clothes?" he asks. 

"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks." 

"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says. 

Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively. 

You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?" 

"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already. 

"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers. 

You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say. 

Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse." 

Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it." 

"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?" 

"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down." 

Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly. 

"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further. 

He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting. 

"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks. 

"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest." 

You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them. 

"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully. 

"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale." 

"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?" 

"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…" 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[a-hazbin-reader]

OMG CAN YOU DO A ALASTOR X MOTHER READER WHERE THEY WAS TRYING TO HAVE ALONE TIME YK MOMMY N DADDY TIME BUT THE TWINS CAME AND RUIN PUSHING ALASTOR AWAY SO HE WON'T TOUCH THEIR MOMMY

👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive?, Alastor VS His babies, Alastor and his kids being possessive

Description: 👆⬆️

When it first happens, Alastor thinks it's adorable and can't help laughing at his silly children

He had come back from an overlord meeting and was eager to kiss you, pulling you in close

"How was the meeting, darling?"

His lips are almost touching yours, practically teasing both of you by denying that final touch

"Uneventful as always, my dear~"

Just when he goes to close the distance, you're both suddenly frozen in place, feeling little hands pushing you apart

You both look down to see your twins trying to shove Alastor away from you with all their little might

Their little faces scrunched up in outrage and concern as they try to break their father's iron grip on you

"Oh my~! It seems someone doesn't like it when I take their mother's attention~"

He's laughing and picking up the twins just to squish them between you and him, kissing their squishy cheeks

"BA!"

The second time it happens, Alastor is shocked, not realizing how serious his babies were about this

They're sitting in their highchairs, being fed by you when he comes up to kiss your cheek

His arm wraps around you and he rubs his cheek on you, not paying attention to the warning growls from his spawn

Or the way their ears fold back and they start bleating at him to get off their mother

He goes to kiss you, when suddenly, there's a wet slap of food hitting his cheek

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing, your twins already grabbing another handful of food

"Now now~ It's important to share with your pap-OH! That's not very polite..!"

It seems Alastor has finally met his match, running out of the room with his tail between his legs

The third time is when Alastor starts getting concerned, the two of you alone in bed

He just wanted some time alone with you after you two had put the twins down for the night

And you could hardly deny him with his lips kissing along your neck and strong arms pulling you against him

Eventually, his lips find yours, and the kiss turns heated with wandering hands starting to slide under each other's clothes-

When there's a cry from the baby monitor and you both are taken out of the mood, giving each other sheepish looks

"Not to worry, darling~ Watch as your capable husband puts them back to sleep~"

Alastor picks up the monitor and speaks into it softly, his voice usually enough to make the babies fall back asleep

Instead, there's the sharp sound of radio interference and an indignant shriek on the other side, making your husband's ears fold back

"I think I should probably be the one to put them back to bed..."

You give your husband a small pat on the head before kissing him, heading into the nursery for the night

The bed has never felt more lonely

Alastor never thought his own children would turn on him, betrayal truly is a devastating thing

SOMEHOW his children have gotten the idea in their heads that their mother isn't something to SHARE

He has no idea how they learned that

It looks like he'll have to do something he had hoped he would NEVER have to do

Talk about sharing his wife

With his children

But still

So he takes the children for the day, letting you have a day to yourself and kicking you out of the hotel

His twins are obviously a little miffed at him for sending you away, it wasn't a decision that Alastor made lightly

But without the object of their little obsession, then they're back to being his loving little babies

They're snuggling into him when he decides to try and explain why the three of them need to share you

"Now, your mother and I...we need time not only for ourselves but also for each other."

At first, the twins eye him with a dubious expression on their faces, little hands curling into angry fists

"And the three of us, we all love her very much, don't we?"

Then they start to relax and lean on him again, as if accepting their father's words

Things feel calmer when you come back home later that night, your husband and babies all practically glomping on you

Whatever rivalry they had going on before seems to have ended, finally being able to have some affection from your husband without being interrupted

"So...it looks like we're alone~"

"It would seem so, darling~"

He's chuckling and pulling you close, reaching back to lock the door behind him-

"Um? Alastor? There's a bunch of angry guys outside and..."

At least not by your own children

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[onlyseokmins]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

#ez.creates #lee chan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #dino smut #kpop smut #smut #nana 🦕 #ez.mootz #1k 🌟 #2k 🎇 #svt.smut #3k 🎆

[satoruxx]

ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader (hinted) | 5k words

✧ SUMMARY: ghost!reader, major character death, jjk manga spoilers, so much angst bc you literally die lmao, longing, mutual pining, suppressed feelings, everyone sucks at love, some fluff, banter, might be slightly suggestive, lots of hinted feelings (read: suguru), arguments, overall this is painful so read if you enjoy angst !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this idea randomly came to me before i went to bed a few days ago and in the spirit of halloween, i figured why not? i live off of angst and need to share the pain with everyone lmao oops. this is late for halloween tho my bad !!

i. 2007

satoru brings one more flower than he did the day before. morning glories again, of course, but an extra one. he had added one more to the the bunch every day since the day you died. the first day, he brought three, wrapped with a cheap blue ribbon that he found in his desk drawer. it was hardly a respectable bouquet, but those three flowers were the ones he'd grown for you, so it only seemed fitting.

he didn't care much for gardening. but one day you asked shoko what her favorite flowers were so you could give her some on valentine's day. she asked you what yours were so she could return the favor.

satoru never forgot morning glories after that day.

he's not even sure if morning glories are appropriate to bring to a grave, but he knows you'd like them.

you would tell him it didn't matter anyway.

ii. 2007

(suguru did not cry when you died. satoru watched, intently, because there was nothing in the universe that his six eyes couldn't catch. he waited for it, even a sliver of emotion that would betray suguru's bleeding heart, but he gave nothing. he just stood in front of the stone that marked the end of your life with a deep stare. something had settled there in his eyes, cold and resolute.

a few months before you died, you had told satoru that there was something wrong with suguru. you said that he'd been distant, somewhere far away, and you worried for him. you always did, so open with your affection for him.

"don't want him to get lost." you had hummed, your shoulder brushing against satoru's as you raise the mango ice pop he brought you to your mouth. satoru watches your lips out of the corner of his eyes, his stomach flipping eagerly even as he keeps his face impassive.

"he said it was just the summer heat," he answers, ignoring the sweet mango juice dripping down his knuckles. "should be nothing."

you don't look all that convinced, turning your head to look up at him with meaningful glance. "you sure?"

he stares at you for a lengthy second, cerulean eyes darting over your facial features, before he reaches up and knocks his knuckle against your forehead. "yeah. he'll be fine." he assures, and your shoulders relax as you continue to eat the ice pop.

you were right about it all. four days after you die, suguru massacres an entire village.)

iii. 2008

satoru shifts in his bed, grunting quietly he begins to stretch his stiff joints. his eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep as he waits for his dark ceiling to come into focus. except it doesn't, because all he can see are a pair of very familiar looking eyes. unsaturated, but still so obviously the color he once knew. his own eyes snap open, all traces of sleep gone as he finally makes out someone who looks exactly like you, perched on his stomach with a confused and slightly panicked expression.

he shoots up, and you pull back a little. it looks like you're on his lap, and yet he can't feel you on him at all. he gulps.

"hey toru." you say quietly, and his stomach drops. the same eyes, the same voice. gods above.

"you're dead," he says simply, trying not to betray the way his pulse is jumping at even the smallest glimpse of you again. "you're not real."

"i'm dead," you confirm, nodding your head as you look down at your translucent palms. "but i'm here somehow."

he sucks in a breath, reaching out a hand as if to touch you. the disappointment he feels when it passes through your form is sickening.

you smile shakily, shrugging your shoulders as you attempt to make light of the situation.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

he stares at you for minutes without saying a word and you stare back, equally silent.

iv. 2007

(nanami had carried your body back, his teeth gritted as his blonde hair fell over his eyes. satoru never brought it up, but he knew that nanami remained bothered by it for the rest of his life. your death was bad timing, especially after they had just lost haibara a few weeks prior.

nanami had no reason to blame himself though. if anything, it was satoru's fault you were gone.

shoko had called him from the infirmary, her voice hard and pinched as she spat out three words: "get down here."

when satoru saw your body, he didn't say a word. just took a few long strides until he was at the table where nanami had placed you down. your eyes were shut, face resting in a way that seemed so unnatural. he opened his mouth to ask shoko something, but felt like he was choking on air, so he stopped himself.

then he grabbed your limp fingers, squeezed them gently. they were still a little warm, but not as warm as you usually run. shoko didn't say anything, just stood there with her hands clenched, short brown hair falling over her dark eyes.

satoru remained there for the next thirty minutes, waiting for you to sit up and laugh at the prank you were no doubt pulling. as if your blood wasn't still dripping all over the table.

shoko was the one who finally pulled a sheet over your body with shaking hands. she didn't look satoru in the eye, and didn't spare a glance when suguru burst into the room ten minutes later.)

v. 2008

it takes satoru a while to get used to the fact that you're not physically there. he has to bite his tongue when he moves to bump your shoulder or flick your forehead only to find that his skin goes right through yours. you always give him that same little rueful smile, and he sighs to himself.

he doesn't make an effort to figure out why you're there. he figures it's similar to how jujutsu users can come back as curses due to strong feelings. when he thinks about it though, guilt lodges itself into his throat, because the first thought he had when he heard you were entering death's door was no, don't you dare die.

every day he wonders if he's the one who cursed you to stay.

you act like it doesn't matter, hovering around him as he busies himself in his empty room. at first you're quiet, as though you've forgotten how to speak to him in your incorporeal form. but then you start asking him questions, and it's one question that satoru dreads to answer that you finally bring up.

"where's suguru?"

he's not stupid. he knows there's more you think of suguru than you've ever revealed. of course you'd want to know. but that doesn't mean he wants to be the one to tell you. you had died with nothing but a good impression of geto suguru. you'd probably died with your feelings for him still intact too.

it'd be selfish of satoru to ruin that.

"nothing, don't worry about it," he dismisses, voice clipped as he busies himself with preparing dinner. he knows that won't deter you.

you huff, moving to hover in his line of sight. you cross your arms as you glare at him seriously, and satoru hates how nostalgic your expression makes him feel. he tongues his cheek before sighing.

"he's gone." satoru answers simply. he tries to keep his tone even but it comes out bitter and strained. he can hear your quiet gasp, and feels your form move closer to him. if you were alive, he'd be able to feel your breath on his skin now.

"what do you mean, gone?"

satoru sighs again, turning to look at you completely. he hated everything about this. "he left school. went crazy. killed a bunch of people, including his parents."

he would've laughed at the comical way your jaw dropped if you didn't look so hurt. you sputter over your words as he picks up his bowl and moves to the table, trailing after him and demanding more information.

he doesn't hesitate to share, because he's always hated keeping secrets from you. you had this uncanny ability to see straight through him, and it never failed to make him feel unsettled. so he tells you everything that happened in the few weeks after you died. suguru leaving, their confrontation in shinjuku, his plans for non-sorcerers. he leaves nothing unsaid.

when he's done, he finally looks at you, trying to gauge your reaction. but you're just staring at his food with a bitter expression, brows pinched and lips pursed. satoru says your name once.

you glance at him, and it's too quick for him to look for any accusation in it. doesn't matter though, because he's ready to own up to his mistakes.

"you were right back then. about suguru." satoru admits quietly, turning to his food. he doesn't want to look at you anymore, because he's scared you'll show him how disappointed you are with him.

you don't say anything in response. but you sit down at the small dining table and watch him eat with soft eyes, one bite at a time. satoru doesn't admit it, but the whole time he imagines that you're gently rubbing his shoulder, and he thinks he hasn't missed you more than in that moment.

vi. 2007

(it was satoru's fault you died. if he hadn't been so selfish, you'd still be next to him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you walked through the streets of tokyo.

you had knocked on his door that morning before you had left for your last mission, rocking on your heels. he opened it groggily, still half asleep.

"you going on a mission?" satoru had yawned, drowsy eyes trailing over your uniform. you nod with a grin.

"mhm, with nanami. there are two separate areas with curses though, so we'll split up when we get there. should be simple enough." you shrug, toying with the collar of your uniform jacket.

satoru decides to be annoying. "then why are you here disturbing my sleep? get out." he groans dramatically, peering at you with narrowed eyes. you smack his arm, scoffing. you've stopped questioning why he keeps his infinity down for you do those things to him.

"i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with," you hiss, crossing your arms defensively. "but i'm taking it back, asshole."

he grins. "what? can't stay away?"

you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sarcastic laugh. "don't flatter yourself."

satoru pauses for a second. "i was gonna go back to sleep." he admits, feeling a little guilty. he had just come back from a mission the night before, and he doesn't feel like leaving again. he doesn't know how to say that to you though.

but you see right through him, like you always do.

"you've been going on missions a lot lately," you smile earnestly, patting his shoulder. "no wonder you're tired."

"'m the strongest, i don't get tired." he protests, crossing his arms with a scoff. you roll your eyes again, sticking your tongue out at him as you heft your weapon over your shoulder.

"keep it up and you're seriously gonna fry your brain or something," you say with a shake of your head, eyes betraying your concern for him. he notices it, and tries to smother down the way it makes his stomach flip. "i'll be fine. you can come on my next mission with me."

fair enough, he thinks. he hadn't gone on missions with you or suguru in a while. he should remember to ask yaga to let him go on your next one. just the two of you. you and him. maybe he'd buy you a mango ice pop on the way back.

"fine." he acquiesces easily, not even thinking to protest. he'll see you later anyway, so he'll talk to you more when you get back.

you smirk a little, motioning to his bedhead, before gently kicking his shin. "go back to sleep then, stupid."

he rolls his eyes, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your forehead like he always does. "whatever. bring me some sweets on your way back, yeah?"

the laugh you give him as he shuts the door is the last thing he ever hears from you.

he should've gone with you.)

vii. 2012

satoru hates the way you're looking at him right now.

it was a stupid little mistake. he had gone to see little megumi and tsumiki earlier that afternoon, and as usual, you had tagged along with him. you'd watched him raise up the two kids over the last few years, never failing to tease about his newly acquired fatherhood, or how much he seemed to care about them despite his efforts to hide it. he didn't ever think to say that you'd helped him raise them up too. even in your incorporeal form you'd always been around to tell him what meals he could prep or to remind him that megumi liked black forest cake for his birthdays.

he'd gotten so used to you being around and he slipped up once. that afternoon when he had walked megumi home from school, teasing and poking fun at the kid, he'd made a stupid joke. megumi had rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.

and then without thinking, satoru had turned to you as you hovered next to him and groaned your name out dramatically before whining, "this kid is so mean to me!"

your eyes widened immediately, and if you were alive he'd probably see the color drain from your face. his stomach had sank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even when megumi glanced at him with a raised brow.

"who are you talking to?" he asked, and satoru gulped, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you to look down at the kid.

"nobody." he had answered.

he tries to ignore the meaningful stare you pin him with for the rest of the afternoon, hoping that you'll just forget about it. but as soon as satoru has left the kids and he's back in his own room, you're on him. he busies himself with making a cup of hot chocolate, even though he feels sick to his stomach.

"satoru you have to figure out how to get rid of me!" you plead, eyes so sad it makes his stomach churn. "i'm gonna drive you insane!"

"i'm fine!" he snaps back, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his mug, the warmth distracting him from whatever it was you were trying to remind him of. he places it down on the table in front of him and crosses his arms defensively. "it was a stupid mistake. won't happen again."

you shimmer in and out of focus, manifesting in front of him with a glare, though your eyes are still the same. wounded and hurt. "it wasn't and you know it! you can't keep living like this. i've been haunting you for years, toru!"

"well who asked you to go ahead and die?!" he yells without thinking, and it's like he sees your hurt bubble forth in slow motion.

"i went and died because i made a stupid mistake on a mission! quit blaming yourself, you dumbass!" you shout, voice raised higher than he's ever heard it.

satoru's mug shatters against the wall.

the two of you immediately turn to look at the mess with wide eyes, before slowly turning to each other to ensure that it really did happen.

"how'd you do that?" satoru asks quietly, his voice strained as he takes a few long strides towards you. you look down at your hand, the same one that you had lifted to swipe at his mug during your fit of rage. you look back up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. satoru's head is pounding, some kind of sick hope stirring within him. "you had to have touched it."

"i don't…" you trail off, voice filled with awe and a bit of fear. satoru reaches up a hand, ignoring the tremble in it, and moves to touch your face. he will never admit to the amount of times he begs in his head, please please please.

his hand goes straight though your skin, and your eyes soften. satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, hiding his disappointment as he takes a step back and turns away.

viii. 2006

(satoru thinks gardening is ridiculous. plants are so fragile, needing to be constantly monitored and cared for like children. he can't understand why anyone would choose to garden as a hobby when there were less stressful things to do in spare time.

even the process was time consuming, he realizes as he scoops out piles of dirt into the small pots he had set out on his windowsill.

he thinks back to the silly little grin you had on your face as you answered shoko's question.

"morning glory," you had said, leaning against her shoulder. "i like the way they open in the morning and close at night."

shoko hummed, staring at the sky even as satoru quietly eavesdropped. "you got a favorite color?"

"the blue ones," you answered. "they're the prettiest."

your voice echoes in his head as he places the seeds into the soil, and he sighs heavily. why he was doing this for you was beyond him.

the thought makes him annoyed, and he huffs in frustration the entire time he plants them. gardening had to be the stupidest hobby ever.

and yet when three blue morning glories bloom against his windowsill, he can't hold back his grin.)

ix. 2017

satoru's grateful that you don't watch him kill suguru.

he tells you to go, and you give suguru a long stare, face pinched and sour even though your translucent eyes are shining. it's a shame suguru can't see you though, because satoru thinks you look so pretty. suguru would've been lucky to have you be the last thing he ever saw.

you turn away and disappear without a word, and after one last exchange, satoru finishes the job.

it's only after he watches rika's final goodbye to yuta does he realize the extent of what a goodbye even means. he'd said one to suguru, and yet he can't help but miss him as he walks back home. he wonders if suguru wouldn't have had to die if you were still around.

satoru had never gotten a goodbye with you though. you're somehow still with him, but he misses you so much. it puts an ugly feeling in his gut, twisted and dark. it weighs down on his shoulders as he finally opens the door to his room, heavy and overwhelming as he sees you sitting on his bed, face vacant.

he says your name, and you don't move. he takes a seat next to you, and something about your sad expression makes him so unbelievably angry.

"quit being sad about it," he finally spits out, the truthful extent of his feelings coming out. "it's not like you're even alive that you'd be able to see him."

you scoff as you give him a sidelong glare. "what's that supposed to mean? one of my closest friends just died and you expect me not to be upset about it?"

"at least he'll find a way to you!" satoru hisses, clenching his fists so hard that his nails leave crescents in his skin. "you two can have fun together for all of eternity."

there's a tense silence that follows as he grits his teeth, turning away from you. he's so disgusted right now. with suguru, with you, with himself.

"i'm all by myself." satoru mutters bitterly, the words so foreign on his tongue as the truth hits him.

god he misses you so much.

he suddenly feels a sharp thwack on the back of his head and he's turning around with wide eyes.

"don't you dare forget about shoko!" you hiss, tears in your eyes as you glare at him, hand raised. "i'll never forgive you!"

his throat goes dry, because the smack you just gave him was the first time you'd touched him since the day you died. there's a storm in his throat that threatens to break free, but he tries to keep it lodged in his throat. even with your teary eyes, he thinks you look just as pretty as you did with life flowing through you.

he misses suguru. he knows you do too, because there are translucent tears dripping down your cheeks and he has never ached to touch you more. but he can't because you're dead.

you remain in front of him all night, barely saying a word in between your sniffles. he doesn't say anything either, just watching you.

he doesn't know what there is to say. the only thing he ever wishes he got to say to you was goodbye. but you're here, in front of him, so a goodbye seems pointless.

when the sun comes up, you wish him a merry christmas, and he swears you never left him.

satoru says it back to you. you smile sadly.

he misses you so much.

x. 2007

(satoru had cleaned out your dorm room three days after you died.

he didn't really understand why he was doing it so early. shoko had frowned when he told her that he planned to pack away your things, frowned in a way that made her look like she disagreed.

well even if she did disagree, it didn't stop her from sitting in your desk chair, chewing on her nail quietly as she watched satoru fold your clothes. he didn't even understand why he was doing this.

maybe it was because every time he walked past your empty dorm room he felt sick to his stomach. there was a twisting feeling in his gut when he realized that you'd never curl up in that bed again. never sit by the window with a grin watching him and suguru bicker as they threw playing cards on the floor. he figured the faster he got rid of your remnants, the quicker the feeling would go away.

that's what he's hoping anyway. but when he picks up your jujutsu uniform he feels something claw at his throat, and he unconsciously digs his fingers into the fabric. he hears a sigh from behind him and then shoko is at his side, wordlessly easing the cloth from his hand. she lays it on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding it carefully. when she places it into the box, satoru thinks her hands shake a bit.

there's a bitter expression on shoko's face that he's never seen before, and it makes his stomach twist.

they work on your room for the next few hours, until the sun has disappeared behind the horizon and the cool evening breeze bullies its way into your old space. neither of them say anything, save for the occasional nostalgic hum as they remember something that you did or they're reminded of the story behind one of the trinkets in your room. otherwise it's silent, and for a second satoru feels like he can hear your laugh.

it isn't until night has completely fallen that they are interrupted.

"what are you doing?"

satoru turns around just as shoko looks up, both of them finding suguru standing in the doorway. he hadn't taken a step in yet, eyes still trailing over the emptiness of your old room from behind an uncrossed line.

"cleaning." satoru answers, his voice oddly clipped.

"it wasn't messy…" suguru mutters back, his lips slanting in such an unusual way. there was an uncharacteristically determined look in his eyes, as though there was something in him that was struggling to burst forth. satoru didn't understand what it was.

"never said it was." satoru replies noncommittally. he hears shoko inhale deeply, shifting in your old chair as she watches the two of them stare at each other. there's a tense silence as he notices suguru frown.

satoru can't remember the last time he even had a full conversation with suguru. he remembers seeing you leave for your last mission, and he wants to kick himself for not asking earlier to be sent on group missions with the two of you.

even now, he doesn't really know what to say to suguru. all he can do is tighten his fingers around the edge of the box with your stuff neatly packed in, and watch his best friend sigh.

suguru wets his lips, eyes darting over your desk. there's an odd expression on his face, and his brows pinch as he notices something. then suguru reaches out to pick up an old polaroid, and satoru knows exactly which one it is. your arms slung around suguru's shoulders, smile so wide your cheeks probably hurt. suguru's expression was uncharacteristically gentle.

satoru remembers it so well, because he's the one who took the picture.

suguru looks at the polaroid without a word, rubbing the corner between his thumb and forefinger, and his expression suddenly mirrors the gentleness in the picture. his eyes remain stormy, deep and unsettling as he reaches conclusions that satoru will never understand.

the three of them stay quiet for a few minutes, even though satoru has so many questions that he can't figure out how to phrase. shoko toys with a cigarette between her lips, leaving it unlit because you've always hated the smell of smoke. suguru just stands there, silently eyeing your unfiltered smile through the lens of a camera.

satoru wonders if suguru's trying to say goodbye to you. he doesn't ask, and suguru doesn't say.

only after something had clicked in suguru's eyes, did satoru realize something was over. he couldn't help but feel like he had just buried you in that cardboard box with all your things, and he swallows hard.

then suguru clenches his fists, veins flexing as he looks around your room, almost like he was committing it to memory. satoru didn't understand why; it's not like suguru couldn't come see your room anytime he wanted.

then he turns away, hand lingering on the doorframe heavily, without another word.

just as suguru walks away, satoru thinks he hears your voice whispering in his ear.

"don't want him to get lost."

xi. 2018

something is wrong. something happened. something is wrong.

satoru knows he needs to wake up. but he's so tired, so exhausted from carrying on all by himself. he suddenly remembers the taste of frozen mango, sweet and chilled, and he wants to keep thinking about it for the rest of eternity.

but something is wong. he needs to wake up.

the minute satoru forces his eyes open, he can ignore the taste of blood in his mouth because you're there.

you're kneeling at his side, sunlight shining behind your head in a way that makes you look almost angelic. he'd believe it if you said you were an angel, because you've been dead for so long now.

you'd been a ghost for so many years, hovering around him and getting him through everything that had come his way. isn't that what guardian angels were supposed to do, guiding humans through their own trials? isn't that what you were doing to him since the day you died and came back to him?

you'd been a ghost. you'd been his angel. you'd been haunting him.

you'll always haunt him.

you seem to know it too, because the expression on your face is understanding, soft and yet so sad.

for what seems like the millionth time in his life, satoru aches to touch you.

he tries to move his hand but finds that he can't. synapses misfire. he can't feel his body anymore.

he wants to touch you. gods above, he wants to touch you so badly. please just this one last wish.

your translucent forms shimmers in the sunlight, and satoru can't tell if he's hallucinating or not because you suddenly seem to become fully physical. the particles of your form solidify, slowly filling with more color until you don't look quite so dilute. the saturation of your eye color comes back, and satoru can't look away because he's never seen a ghost so pretty before.

his breath hitches as you gently cup his cheek in your palm, warm and gentle. the melancholic look on your face makes his eyes sting.

"it's good to see you." he says with a weak smile, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. his breath is short, mind racing because your skin is on his again. finally, after so many years. you're so soft, just like he remembers.

"you weren't supposed to join me this quick." you sigh, eyes shining as you smile down at him ruefully. your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and satoru's cerulean eyes flutter.

no. no more waiting. he'd missed you too much. he doesn't have it in him to stay away from you anymore. he'd done it long enough. your fingers tremble against his skin and he almost laughs.

no more haunting.

there's a resolute part of him that knows you'll be the first thing he sees when he gets to wake up again. he decides that, when he does, he'll get you a mango ice pop and plant some morning glories with you.

his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

#[𐐪— rheya’s writings. 𐑂] #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk angst #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo angst #jjk season 2 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu x reader #geto suguru #geto angst #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satosugu x you #stsg x reader

[unclewaynemunson]

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

#wayne munson was in dire need of an accidental baby acquisition trope okay #i said so #i know we all love steve accidentally becoming a parent to a baby half sibling but #consider this please #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[yesimwriting]

OKAY idk if you keep taking thoughts but this IS the dynamic I had thought for Felix since DAY ONE, so of course I need more best friend!felix and maybe this one is a typical one but...

The jealousy??? like this man is very facial and expressive and protective, especially towards the reader.... so I thought about him watching any of his friends flirting with them? And maybe also being way too touchy? You can decide if reader is comfortable in all that or not (I think she wouldn't), but having him like trying not to be a dick but also like needing to, like they're my best friend shush so yeah, I'd love it if you could write something like that! thankss

a/n omg that one scene in saltburn where felix is like 'you're my friend,, you're supposed to be here with me' yeah i knew immediately

----

"Sorry, darling." Despite the soft, almost far off cadence of Farleigh's voice, his words manage to cut through the atmosphere of the party. He leans forward, handing off his half finished joint to the girl standing next to you. "This stuff's heavy, and I don't need Felix on me tonight."

You frown. His denial doesn't get to you as much as the way he's framing it. Like you're a child that needs to be looked after. Like you're Felix's property.

If you weren't already a few drinks in, you'd dismiss Farleigh's words with an eye roll. The buzz burning in your veins latches onto that pinch of irritation. The full sounding giggle that comes from the nameless girl by your side only amplifies the feeling. "I don't do everything Felix says."

"No," he agrees, "You do just enough to be a good, little pet." You cross your arms in front of your chest, tilting your head to better glare at him.

The feel of something touching your shoulder cracks the tension. Your head turns. Felix. Despite your annoyance, Felix's sudden appearance at your side has you easing. He leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek near the corner of your mouth. "I was looking for you."

You smile, placing your hand over the one Felix still has on your shoulder. "You seemed busy, decided to take a lap."

He brushes his thumb against your shoulder. "Never too busy for you, darling." Felix has a way of making things that should feel just polite sound genuine. "How're you doing?"

"Farleigh's being mean."

"Didn't let her smoke." Farleigh explains flatly, taking the joint back from the girl. "After the way you reacted last time, it wasn't worth it."

Felix squeezes your arm. "That true?" You're not given a chance to respond. "You know how you get. Especially after drinking." You blink at him, eyes wide and lips pressed together. "Don't give me that look." It's too gentle to be a scolding. "We can smoke when you're sober, if you want."

You're not one to crave getting high too often. There's a sluggishness to it that you have to be in a certain mood for. But something about smoking with Felix, in his room with the window open and the two of you lounging like the only things that matter are what's within arm's reach, is unbelievably soothing.

Even in your current state, you're fully aware of the fact that you're getting the better end of the deal. But with Farleigh's smug comment and that random girl that laughed still paying attention, you don't feel comfortable agreeing in front of everyone.

"You're looking for an excuse to argue." Ugh. The way he reads you is almost eerie. You press your lips together to keep from giggling, watching him carefully. You shake your head, a flimsy attempt at denial. "Yes." Felix leans closer, grinning. He drapes an arm around your back, pulling you against his chest. " I can see it in your eyes."

"My eyes are innocent."

His freehand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to better look you in the eye. He's focused, exuding more concentration than the moment warrants. That's the thing about Felix, crowded room or empty dorm, it doesn't matter. He has a talent for making anyone feel like the only person in the world.

"Hm," he hums, "You pass." Despite coming to a conclusion, he makes no effort to move away from you. "Want to get another drink?"

You nod, "Yeah."

"C'mon, then." He drops one arm, waving a halfhearted goodbye to Farleigh before guiding you forward.

Felix keeps an arm around your shoulders as you maneuver through the chaos of the party. It's instinct to accept his lead, a part of you more glad for it than usual. You're starting to feel fuzzy, and with Felix guiding you, it's safer to accept the sensation.

"Oh my god!" A squeal and then your name.

You turn your head, eyes landing on a familiar face from your lit class. "Daphne!" She's a newer friend that you mainly know from exchanging lecture notes and working on essays together. A part of you is surprised to see her here, but you guess you shouldn't be. Now that you're thinking about it, you feel like you've seen her around Felix's friends before. "Hey."

Daphne approaches you with a wide grin. "I didn't know you were here." She then glances to Felix, and then Felix's arm, and then back to Felix. "Hi, Felix."

If he notices Daphne's curious scrutiny, he gives no indication of it. "Hi, Daphne," he greets, confirming that they do run in the same circles.

She smiles politely before turning her attention back to you, "It's been a minute since I've seen you." Daphne tosses a glossy strand of hair over her shoulder. "We need to catch up, I found out the best thing about the girl that sits in the front row that always tells everyone her grades."

"Bragger girl? She's the worst."

"Oh, you have no idea."

Felix squeezes your arm, turning your attention back towards him. "I'll get you your drink, you catch up with your friend." You beam at him as his arm gently moves off your shoulder.

As soon as he's disappeared into the crowd, Daphne gasps, "Oh my god, whatever's going on there is better than my bragger girl story."

You blink. "What?" Confusion and Felix's absence make you feel slightly off balance. It takes you a moment to catch up. "Oh, Felix? We're friend." Daphne presses her lips together, the look she's giving you not entirely convinced. "C'mon, tell me about bragger girl."

"Okay." Daphne gestures to an empty coach that's been pushed against a wall. "Let's sit?"

The two of you make it to the edge of the room. Daphne's not shy about taking up space, letting her long legs extend into the start of where people might walk. She trusts the world to move for her. It hits you then that your friendship with Daphne, like your relationships with a lot of people you've been spending time with recently, doesn't make make sense on paper.

You sit, grateful for the chance to lean against something sturdy.

"Alright," Daphne starts, angling her body towards you, "Bragger girl--never's gotten an imperfect score girl--" She cuts herself off with a soft, tipsy giggle. "Is hooking up with the TA."

Oh, you're fully hooked. "What?" Daphne nods, expression satisfied. "No way." There's no way to prove the connection between that girl always managing to beat your scores by a few points and any of her personal relationships, but come on. "Wait--with--with which one--the tall one or--or the one with the--" You're too out of it to recall a good descriptor, "Hair."

Daphne laughs again, "Hair?" You shrug at her. "Doesn't matter how little sense that makes, because that's the--the best part of the story." You nod, urging her. "She's hooking up with both of them."

You gasp. Oh my god, you cannot wait for Felix to get back so you can reiterate every detail of this. "Really?" Daphne giggles, nodding her head. "How do you know?"

"Okay," she crosses her legs, "So, I was at this ba--"

"Hey, Daphne," the voice is low and clumsy, over extending the second half of Daphne's name. Daphne looks up in time to see a guy sit on the couch's cushioned arm. "Who's your friend?"

Daphne throws you an apologetic look before turning back to the stranger. "Hi, John." She then introduces the two of you politely, presenting you as a friend from her intro to western lit class and John as someone from her econ class.

John doesn't even attempt to hide the fact that he's looking you over. You're not sure if it's the slightly glazed over quality to his eyes or his lack of shame gets to you. All you know is that some instinct tells you to be wary.

He tries your name on his lips, slurring slightly. "Why've I never seen you around?"

"Oh, I don't know," you try, tone much more sober than it was a moment ago, "I'm around, I guess. Here and there."

It's not your best small talk, but the only part of you that seems to be clinging to sobriety doesn't feel right. He's friends with Daphne, you tell yourself, you have no reason to believe he has bad intentions just because seems like he's had too much of whatever he's been having tonight.

John laughs, like your words were some obscure joke that he wants you to know he decoded. "So what do you do when you're not getting out?" He angles himself towards you, disregarding Daphne entirely. "I'm having a hard time picturing you in a library."

It's almost ironic enough to get you to laugh. John sees you here, he sees how you're dressed, and who you're with and just assumes that this is your regular state. And while there's nothing wrong with being the party girl type (some of your favorite people are that kind of person), it's just not who you are every night of the week.

"Actually, John," Daphne interjects, "She's really smart, like basically certified genius smart." You throw her a not so subtle look that says you feel like she's exaggerating. "What? I said basically." You don't look like you agree, "C'mon, even Dr. Alvero's said it, and he can't stand anyone."

"Really?" John moves to stand. "Dr. Alvero. His class is bloody murder." He takes a step towards you. "Maybe you could help me study sometime." You're too aware of the length of your dress, of your legs. "I'd pay you for your time."

There's something about the way he tacks on the reference to finances, an implication that burrows beneath your skin. That's the worst part of Oxford's elite, they assume that if you don't run in the same circles...that if you don't come from generational money, you have nothing. That you're in a position to bend to their every whim for what they consider petty cash.

"John," Daphne tries, voice hard.

"What?" John takes another step forward. "I said I'd pay her."

Indignance and nerves bond uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. As much as you want to tell him off, the way he's looking at you leaves you frozen, and it's not like the two of you are in a private area. You don't want to be labeled as a hysterical drunk.

"Sweetheart." Felix is within reach.

You turn your head instinctually. He's less than a foot from the couch, holding a solo cup. Despite directly addressing you, Felix's attention is fully focused on John, who seems to have finally remembered the concept of personal space.

Felix walks past him without a second glance before sitting next to you. It's a squeeze, Felix's knee pressing into yours. "They ran out of cups, so I thought we could share." Felix extends his arm slightly, gesturing to his drink. "Have some."

You lift a hand to reach for the cup, but Felix shifts before you can actually attempt to take it. Confusion has you dropping your hand back to your lap. You don't get where he's going with this until he gently tilts the cup in a silent question. You nod.

Felix brings the drink to your lips, gently tilting the cup until its contents are down your throat. The alcohol burns slightly, but not overbearingly so, and the flavor is familiar. Your favorite drink.

He pulls the cup away, a drop of liquid sliding down the corner of your mouth. Felix's thumb wipes it away before it can reach your chin. He then brings his still damp thumb towards his mouth to clean it.

Heat roots itself in your chest and crawls up your neck. All of your discomfort, all of your worry from before feels far and abstract until Felix asks, "So, who's your friend?"

"Oh, uh--this is Daphne's friend, John."

Daphne nods, leaning forward to join your conversation, "Yeah, I know him from my econ class."

"Yeah, good to finally meet you, man. " Felix finally looks back at John. "I think my step-mother's friends with your mum."

Felix places an arm against the back of the couch, giving you space to relax against his side. A more sober you would have thought twice about giving in so quickly, but you're starting to feel light again. "Uh--Cindy Marin."

"Right!" John exhales, relieved, "Right."

Felix nods once before turning his attention back to you. "You ready to get out of here?" There's an assuredness in the way he asks the question that makes it seem like there's nothing of value left at a party that hasn't at all since he sat down. You nod. Felix leans towards you so that he can better look over your shoulder. "See you around, Daphne."

"Yeah, see you."

Felix gets up, immediately stealing the warmth and comfort he'd been providing while next to you. Something that you only very minorly resent him for. He offers you his hand as you stand, and that makes up for most of it.

You turn your head to say goodbye to Daphne. Now that Felix isn't looking, she grins at you before mouthing: that was hot.

You roll your eyes, hoping your feigned irritation is enough to cover any signs of being flustered. Especially when Felix pulls an arm around your shoulders.

"Bye, John," he mumbles, "Congratulate your step-mum for me, yeah?"

Felix guides you out of the party. Once the two of you are exposed to the cool, night air, Felix lets go of you. There's a stiffness to his release that gets to you.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes.

"Can I?" Your voice is smaller than you thought it'd be.

Felix pauses, thinking through your request before handing you the box. You smile as Felix leans towards you. You don't smoke--with the exception of an occasional drag from one of Felix's cigarettes--but you like lighting them for him.

You pull one from the box and place it between his parted lips. He hands you his lighter next. You spark it to life, bringing the flame to the cigarette's end. Felix takes a deep breath, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling. He doesn't attempt to take your hand or place an arm around you again.

"Are you--" You're not even sure how to word it, "...Okay?"

He takes the cigarette between two fingers as he breathes out. "Fine." Felix inhales another drag. "Just didn't love the way that guy talked to you."

"If it helps, neither did I."

Felix glances over at you, eyebrows pulling together. "Then it's a good thing your best friend was there."

You roll your eyes fondly, fighting a grin, "You're always a good thing."

He looks down, his fingers brush against yours. You intertwine them, pulling his palm against yours. "Someone loves me."

You attempt to glare at him, but the look feels too sickeningly fond to come off as menacing. "Don't start."

His smile broadens. He squeezes your hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. "Want to stay over tonight?"

"Yeah." You grin, body subconsciously leaning against his a little more. "Are you tired?"

Felix eyes you with exaggerated skepticism, "Why?"

"Wanted to know if you were in the mood to read to me tonight."

He smiles, angling his head to press a kiss against the top of your head. "Anything you want, lovie."

----

felix: oh my god,, i can't believe people treat you like that!! maybe you should borrow my last name for a little, just so that they leave you alone

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

#bestfriend!felix #bestfriend!felix x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi

[jojissalsa]

husband!leon drabble

hear me out, cause i have an idea :3 (yes this is a drabble but also kinda long...)

cw: housewife kink, very slight condescension, praise, oral, breeding kink, ya get the gist. (minors do not interact, go touch grass.)

i cannot get my mind off husband!leon, like... at all, i feel like he'd love to pamper you. you need your hair trimmed? when and where. going somewhere special? he'll immediately take you shopping. his favorite is when you wanna get your nails done, he'll just hand you that sleek black credit card. i mean, it's not like he doesn't have the money. he has to deal with the worst horrors this shitty world could conjure up, so all he wants at the end of the day is to see your pretty smile.

it's all he can think about at work. everyone notices how distracted he seems, constantly checking his phone for possible pictures or any kind of update. he's so glad he doesn't have much work to do that day, so he can be home before you. and when you finally unlock the door he has to stop himself from running to you like an excited dog happy to see his owner.

and you know he's excited, as much as he tries to hide it as you walk over to the couch where he's sitting, plopping down right next to him and nuzzling into his side. "you like 'em?" you hold out your hand, a smug smirk on your face as he takes your hand. "it's pretty.." he whispers in awe, a loving expression on your face. usually he's the type to wanna lay on your chest, having your nails graze his scalp so he can finally relax. he knows you love it too, like he's a big lap dog you can watch movies with.

he feels a lil different tonight though, maybe he's just pent up, but all he can think about is your pretty, delicate hand wrapped around his cock, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and making rings on the length of his cock. and you know he's thinking about something, because he moves his hand up yours before grabbing your wrist and pressing your palm against his cock.

"feel that? that's what you do to me, so damn sweet. you and that needy cunt is all i can think about. c'mere, wanna see those pretty hands jerk me off." you don't waste any time moving your head into his lap as he pulls down his sweats, your hands finding their place at the base of his cock and cupping his balls, your tongue already lapping at his tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum. he looks so fucking hot like this, legs spread, arm resting on the back of the couch while his hand moves down your back and under your leggings, determined to feel more of you. you're always such a good girl when you sink your mouth lower on his cock, tip hitting the back of your throat which makes his hips buck and his head tilt back as he groans.

"i got so lucky, pretty wife that knows how to suck dick. so eager for me to touch you, huh? need my fingers to fill up that tight pussy, don't you, honey? can't answer with a mouthful of cock, can you?" leon can never help himself, he has to be a little smug, because he landed such a hot piece of ass and he's more than confident about you belonging to him completely. how you stop everything you're doing to please him. how can he not pay back the favor? he pulls your leggings down to your thighs along with your panties, coating his fingers in your slick before slipping his fingers inside your welcoming pussy. you clench around his thick fingers when you feel the cold metal of his wedding band, and it only makes him smile wider.

like i said, he really does love to pamper you. make you feel pretty all the time, because you are. you may not think you are all the time, but he sure as shit does. pretty enough to carry his baby, too. "such a pretty girl, you'd look even more beautiful with my baby inside you." you whimper around his cock, pulling your head up to stroke him so you can catch your breath. "like that one, hmm? you always walk around looking like a fucking milf, so damn sexy with those tight jeans and cute heels i buy for you." you knew he was a family man, wanted at least two kids, but damn he did not have to make the idea sound that fucking hot.

and you let him, he could give you a whole bloodline and you'd do it with a smile. letting him fuck his huge load of cum into your tight cunt, those pretty nails digging into his back as your legs keep him pumping his cum inside you. "atta girl, can't wait to see that pregnancy test. gonna keep you here and take good care of you, promise." he lets you come back down to reality as he leans up, getting a good view of your blissed out smile, humming contently as you look up at him. "you won't have to lift a single finger with me around, trust me."

#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #older leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon resident evil #im so mentally ill abt him

[randomshyperson]

Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome. 

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee. 

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats. 

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock." 

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack? 

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well. 

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy. 

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses. 

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest. 

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips. 

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it." 

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat. 

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it. 

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now. 

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat. 

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?" 

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else. 

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part. 

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out. 

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well. 

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips. 

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this. 

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve. 

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her. 

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again. 

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader

[quimichi]

ೃ⁀➷ CALLING THE SUMERU BOY'S YOUR GOOD BOY

Sumeru boy's Creator!Reader

Al-haitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari & Scaramouche

Al-Haitham - The ones who find the disruptors will win

Al-haitham closes the gap between himself and you, getting as close physically as he can ans drops to his knees. His body quakes slightly as he looks up to meet your eyes. His eyes feel raw. He wants to look away, but he forces himself to meet your gaze. "Your my good boy aren't you?", your voice so gentle, so smooth like the silky web of the Darwin bark spider. A simple question, but Al-Haitham's thoughts come to a halt as he processes your words.

Al-Haitham has heard these words a hundred times before, and yet they always make his heart skip a beat. "Y-yes," he breathes, his gaze unwavering on yours. "Yours." Words fail him. Al-Haitham opens his mouth to say something - anything to appease your desire - and yet no words leave him. Instead he simply closes the gap between you and him, leaning forward so that he is touching you.

He's still on his knees, and as he stares up at you his heart keeps racing. The word *yours* rings in his ears. He wants to say it again, to tell you how he feels about you and about your words. But he cannot.

"Is something troubling you?" your hand comes up to stroke his cheek, gently. He leans into your touch, his whole being quaking at your gesture. When you touch him, he's paralyzed by your affection. He breathes in sharply. "Y- you," Al-Haitham whispers, trying not to let his voice crack. He wants to say more but cannot seem to speak.

He can feel his face redden. Al-Haitham presses himself against you, his entire body practically vibrating with the rush of emotions."I-i am troubling you?" this truly took you by surprise, you always appreciated his honesty but this?

"Y-y-yes." Al-Haitham chokes back his words. His voice falters as he speaks. "You drive me...mad." A small smirk plays at his lips, as though he is ashamed about the thought he's just expressed. Yet there's no going back now, and his face has grown redder.

"B-but im still your good boy." The word leaves him like a prayer. Al-Haitham closes his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He does not move. He does not breathe. His entire body is held hostage by you. Your voice is the air he breathes. Your touch is what makes him whole.

He is utterly yours.

Kaveh - The ability to appreciate beauty is an important virtue.

Kaveh smiles shyly, nervously, and approaches you on trembling legs. His steps are slow, but steady— it is only a few paces, but it seems like his body is taking him to heaven itself. When he is finally within touching distance, he waits for instruction; he is your servant after all. In your name he has build multiple builds, designed the palace you are living in. Without him, without his abilities, you wouldn't live in a palace only for you. You just had to praise him for it.

"Yes, your Grace. I am," Kaveh answers instantly. The words fall from his lips like honey, and he is genuinely giddy when he says them. He's bouncing on place like a child. So excited he forgot to be surprised by the sudden affection of his grace.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace? Your good boy shall always be by your side, ready to serve." You quickly move your hand for him to come closer. Kaveh obeys without hesitation, but his heart is beating out of hus chest while he still moving closer. His hands are clasped before him and are trembling with nervous energy as he gazes up at you, his expression reverent.

"Your Grace?" he asks cautiously, as if he is awaiting your next command. "Is there something you need?"

Kavehs cheeks immediately flush pink as his breath grows hoarse. He is a little embarrassed to admit it, but his gaze is captivated by your hand. He can no longer hide the fact that your touch mesmerizes him.

"Your Grace, please..." he begs quietly, though he doesn't dare look away. "If you keep stroking my cheek like this i am close to fainting..." You start to softly chuckle at him, well, isn't he a cutie?

Kavehs face flushes brighter, and his heartbeat seems to triple with each passing second. "Your Grace," he asks, his voice thick with infatuation, "can you please call me that again? After all...I'm your good boy aren't I?"

Cyno - Your sins weigh upon your soul

"Cyno, would you mind coming closer?" As if moved by an unknown force, Cyno shifts closer, inching closer to your person. "You would like me nearer?" he asks, the quiet tone of reverence in his voice unchanging.

"A tiny bit closer" you said, and without any hesitation, he does. Cyno obliges with his next breath, the movement of him inching closer in tandem with it.

"As you wish, Your Grace," he says softly to you. "Good boy" you coo at him. Such an obedient boy he is. Every fibre of Cynos being is lit up in the face of your praise. He stares back at you like a lost baby bird gazing up at the heavens.

"Thank you," he says quietly, as if the mere notion of such things were a foreign concept to him. You are the only one whose approval he craves. "Ohhh you're so formal" he never let his guard down while in your presence. Always showing you the upmost respect. The only time it slips, is when a little joke leaves him making you chuckle. That alone makes his heart race and being close to explode...

"I'm sorry," Cyno mumbles, face blushing in mortification at his slip-up. In all his life he has only been taught to show respect. Even now, as everything becomes so much easier with you near, he must maintain a sense of formality and decorum.

"Forgive me," he says, voice quiet and soft as ever, tone dripping with reverence as it comes out. "Oh Cyno, it's ok. You're my good boy after all I could never be upset with you"

The mere words from your lips are enough to send chills down Cynos spine, his face flushing as though his skin had become suddenly too tight for his body.

"And you are my god/dess/deity"

The words come like a whisper of a breeze. His hands flutter before his chest, the way a maiden might wring her hands. His expression is one of complete adoration, his gaze turned up to you as if to a heavenly vista.

I'm their good boy....

Tighnari - The value of knowledge can't simply be quantified in monetary terms.

"Nari, would you mind coming closer to me?" He doesn't wait to respond. With an urgent and desperate speed, Tighnari closes the gap between you and him. He wants to make you happy, and his body responds without a moment of hesitation as his legs bring him closer to you.

He presses close to you, and takes a deep breath in. His warm gaze holds a soft glow of wonder and awe as he takes in your face. His eyes speak to you silently, and say 'I am yours. Do with me what you must. I want nothing but you, Your Grace'. After all the time he has spend with you, informed you about the well-being of the forst, he not only got closer to you than anyone else. He also lost his feeling of shame.

He is much more open with you, less reserved. He only seeks for you attention, touch, your gaze, anything at all.

You look down from your throne to see Tighnari kneeling before you, his eyes downcast. He does not speak, but nods. "Yes." His tone is quiet. He stares at the floor without moving. He's utterly ashamed, this hit him straight in the face without mercy.

With this scene playing in front of you, you can't help but have a little fun. "I didn't quite hear you Tighnari, would you mind repeating yourself?"

His tone is slightly louder as he repeats himself: "Yes." He still stares at the floor. His heart beats furiously. He is still and patient. His body is relaxed on the outside. On the inside, though, he is utterly in turmoil. "Good boy, I am proud of you that you spoke up~"

Tighnari's breathing is deep and steady, as if he is forcing himself to calm his nerves. His stomach is tied in knots, but he tries his best to ignore it. He is yours, and he knows not to speak unless he is spoken to.

He shifts slightly to try and get more comfortable, though he does not look at you as he does so. Despite himself, he blushes. The sudden intimacy of your touch on his ears sends a wave of sensation through him. His face turns an immediate dark red, but he does not move away from your touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your fingers running through his hair. Every touch is pure ecstasy. "'m your good boy..." he breathes.

Scaramouche - Eternity stretches things out over a long time. But each moment within it becomes all the more fragile

"Come closer" Scaramouche's expression is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of concern to his voice as he approaches you.

"Yes, Your Grace. What do you need?" He says it in such a manner that could be interpreted either as a formal servant, or a concerned companion. "Closer" A small frown tenses Scaramouche's brow as he moves closer. Your expression is neutral, and as he kneels before you, his heart is hammering loudly in his chest; and he knows he has done something wrong. Despite this, he obeys your command nonetheless.

"What's wrong? You seem upest?" You're worried you may have sounded to rough. After all he is a sensitive boy. "I thought... I thought you called me because I had done something that displeased you," he says after a moment, and though he tries to swallow down his mounting anxiety, it shows in his voice. "Is there... something... I have done wrong?"

"No!" your heart starts to ache at this, "My good boy could never do anything wrong" Scaramouche's expression softens, and a single, brief smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

His brows furrow again, as he tries to figure out the underlying reason you have called for him. Despite the fact that he is no longer frightened, he can't quite understand your intentions.

"Why... have you called for me, then, Your Grace?" He asks gently, still kneeling before you. "To praise my good boy" and with saying that you gently caress his face.

Scaramouche closes his eyes in your touch. The warmth and softness of your touch is enough to take his breath away. He leans forward, unconsciously seeking more from your caress. But at the same time, he is afraid to lean too far, lest he make you upset.

"Yes, I am your... good little boy."

He tilts his head upward, the need to gaze into your eyes and bask in your love overwhelming whatever modesty that held him back from your touch. He wants nothing more than to be as close to you as physically possible.

"All for me?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he croaks as he inclines his head, his gaze locked onto yours.

"All for you."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #Sagau Al-Haitham #Sagau Kaveh #Sagau Cyno #Sagau Tighnari #sagau scaramouche #al haitam x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader

[daosies]

the only exception

alhaitham doesn't feel particularly attached towards many things.

one thing he does seem to feel very strongly about, however, is you.

alhaitham ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is not traveler, lovesick alhaitham

note: i woke up one day and was suddenly feeling romantical for alhaitham...

"you want to know what alhaitham likes?" kaveh asks, disbelieving.

"yeah!" paimon exclaims. "paimon needs all the details. like, what does he do outside of work, since he's so eager to get away?"

kaveh shivers at the thought. "well, he goes to read some books i guess. i don't really know what he does."

"you're his roommate!" paimon yells, upset. "how could you not know?!"

"hey, i have things to do! i'm in high demand, okay?" kaveh retorts, flailing his hands around for emphasis in a futile attempt to defend himself. in a fit of desperation, he stands up, a determined expression on his face as he glances around the cafe.

he sits back down, with a newfound resolve, once he realizes that alhaitham is nowhere to be seen.

"fine, i'll tell you what he does. but you can't tell anyone, okay? he'll get super mad at me. and i'm sick and tired of him when he's mad! especially when it's about—"

kaveh pauses midsentence, his mouth hanging agape as the color drains from his face. his lips begin to tremble a little, his hands becoming clammy as he wipes them against the side of his pants.

"u-uh, well," he trails off, averting his gaze from the traveler who leans slightly over the desk. "s-so, w-what i was saying was..."

"hm," a new voice interjects. lumine glances up, noticing alhaitham, in all of his glory. she scrutinizes him intensely, observing the way he crosses his arms, a scowl forming on his face as he glares at the architect with disdain.

his hair looks neater, she notes. usually, alhaitham's hair is messy—he once told her that he doesn't have the need to maintain it properly.

today, however, pearl strands are tucked neatly around his face, framing his pale skin in a way that resembles a sculpture. today, alhaitham looks otherworldly—not necessarily because of his unusual appearance, but rather, the way he looks over his shoulder, his monotone expression suddenly blossoming with color.

when alhaitham looks at you, it's as if there are stars racing across his eyes. his lily green eyes are fixated on you, reflecting your silhouette in their irises with a certain familiarity, a certain adoration. the frown on his lips begins to give way, revealing a dreamy, almost luminous look.

"[name],"—oh, and when he says your name, his voice drops to a gentle, soothing timbre—"let's go somewhere else."

lumine thinks that alhaitham looks unlike himself. because what she knows of him is a calculating, logical grand sage who would rather forfeit the world than have to work another day in his life. she knows him as someone who cares only for himself, not because he's selfish, or because he's egoistical, but because in this dog-eat-dog world, that's the only way to survive.

but when he looks at you, alhaitham's expression melts. all sense of logic evades him, because despite his existence revolving around rationality and consistency, he looks as if he's overwhelmed by a foreign emotion. a warm emotion. alhaitham, with you, looks as if he's going beyond himself, beyond everything.

(in this dog-eat-dog world, alhaitham thinks that caring for others is futile. he thinks that, in the midst of it all, the only thing he can account for is himself.)

(when he's with you, however, that changes.)

because the way he leans in towards you, and the way he speaks to you—in a soft, tender tone—is above him. suddenly, his limited world expands, and colors begin to glimmer with a revitalized hue. alhaitham's world, which was once walked and occupied only by himself, grows a little. it makes way for two.

his hand rests gently on your shoulder, finding familiarity in the feeling.

lumine knows that something is up, that something in you—or something about you—changes the way he behaves. because the alhaitham she knows would never initiate physical contact with anyone.

but the alhaitham you create, the alhaitham that exists in your mere presence, is someone else. the alhaitham that calls your name speaks to you in a voice that has no resemblance to the blunt tone he usually takes. the alhaitham that looks at you, the alhaitham that perceives you is unlike the one that lumine knows.

because in your presence, she thinks that alhaitham resembles a lover. he emanates you, radiating and glowing and prevailing like a wild light, stretching far across the limitless sky and fragmenting just to catch a wisp of your gaze.

(or a breath, or a fraction of your colossal existence. anything will do.)

"what's wrong with this place, though?" you ask, brushing your hand against his. lumine notices this. she glances at the sage, who doesn't seem to mind the contact. if anything, he leans even more towards you, as if your touch had seized a star.

"yeah, that's right!" paimon interjects. "what's wrong with this place, huh?!"

alhaitham, who doesn't even bother to spare the floating fairy a glance, opts to observe your expression, pausing for but a moment to decide what answer would please you the most.

lumine never thought alhaitham would consider someone's feelings before responding. seeing this, however, she supposes that there's a first for everything.

"nothing," he states firmly.

"all of your friends are here too, alhaitham!" you say, gesturing towards kaveh (who is in the midst of an out-of-body experience) and lumine.

"nice to meet you," lumine introduces herself kindly, "[name], right?"

"yeah!" suddenly, you pull a notebook out from your pocket, ushering it towards the traveler as you offer her a pen.

"can i get your autograph?" you ask, though it seems more like a demand.

"hey, how come you never ask for mine?" kaveh questions, suddenly coming back to life. he's silenced as soon as alhaitham glares at him. when the sage's gaze returns to you, however, that look of momentary fury dissipates; he finds comfort in your existence, his spot in the universe etched perfectly by your side.

"i need autographs that can sell," you reply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"plenty of people would buy my autographs!" kaveh exclaims, hurt. "what do you mean they need to sell, anyway? isn't just having my autograph enough?"

"things without immediate or material value are useless," alhaitham states.

"hah! don't say that when you're so obviously—" kaveh is cut off by alhaitham's death-glare. the architect, resigned to his fate, sits quietly in his seat, his back straightened perfectly as he folds his hands on his lap.

"so obviously...?" paimon echoes, tilting her head. lumine sighs in exasperation while you're cradling the traveler's autograph in your arms, fantasies beginning to materialize all around you.

i could sell this for one million mora. no, two million mora, you think, staring at the flimsy piece of paper. and then i could buy a huge mansion in the middle of the city and—

alhaitham flicks your forehead gently, an unreadable expression painting his features.

"nobody's going to buy that for two million," he remarks. your mouth hangs slightly agape.

"how do you know that?"

he shrugs.

lumine observes the sage under the warm cafe lights. he cradles your image in the center of his eyes, the beholder of what is most beautiful. alhaitham stares at you, taking your figure and slipping it away into his irises, imprinting it into his mind, letting it coexist with him for eternity.

when he stares at you, lumine thinks he's about to melt away into the warmth of the lanterns, the warmth of your existence. when he stares at you—which alhaitham often does—he sheds his tiny world and metamorphosizes into a lover, completely void of all the logic and rationale he lives his life by.

he says things without immediate or material value are useless, lumine thinks, but look at him.

you tuck the traveler's autograph into your pocket, and alhaitham rests his hand on your lower back, as if it were made to be there. when you bid her and kaveh a friendly farewell, alhaitham doesn't even care to spare either of them a glance, his gaze belonging wholly to you.

and when you tell kaveh that you'll get his autograph later, alhaitham scowls. he doesn't say anything to you, but the look he sends towards the architect is enough to suppress any ideas the blonde might be getting.

and when you leave, alhaitham trails after you, yearning. lumine never thought that alhaitham would willingly take his headphones off in public, much less follow after someone with such determination. when you walk, alhaitham is intent on matching your strides, desperate to exist in the same scale as you, the same life as you.

"alhaitham was acting really weird just now..." paimon mumbles, scratching her head. "he had a weird look. like, he wasn't as mad as usual!"

kaveh shivers. "don't say that. if anything, i think he's madder than usual. well, i guess that's what love does to someone."

"what?!" paimon yells.

"ugh, don't make me go in-depth. he's so embarrassing, that guy! how could he act like that and still not confess anything to [name]? also, [name] is way too good for a guy like him. i hope they reject him once he does confess," kaveh rants, waving his hand dismissively.

"alhaitham likes [name]?!" paimon repeats, as if it weren't obvious enough.

"oh, not just like. he loves them. end of story. let's talk about something fun," kaveh replies.

"no, no!" paimon stomps the air. "we need to know more about this now!"

lumine, albeit quiet, nods alongside the floating fairy. kaveh groans.

"you guys wouldn't get it... alhaitham like this isn't anything cool. if anything, he's even worse. to everyone except [name], of course."

"is he going to confess?" paimon asks. "how long has he liked [name]?"

"eventually, maybe. but he's a puny guy and he's afraid of rejection, and he can't tell if [name] likes him back. he's got all those brains for nothing," kaveh says, "and he's liked them for a while. since the akademiya, maybe...?"

"what do you mean maybe?!"

"i told you, i'm in high demand! i have better things to do than to worry about alhaitham's love life!"

"alhaitham's love life?" a bystander suddenly echoes. kaveh stiffens up immediately, his vermilion eyes growing wide with fear and shock.

"oh, yeah," lumine quickly interjects, "his love life with the books."

"haha, of course!" the bystander exclaims, believing the traveler without a second thought. "how is it possible for the acting grand sage to be any other way? he is wedded to those books, indeed!"

kaveh, lumine, and paimon all exchange knowing glances.

clearly they haven't seen alhaitham with you yet.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham #al haitham x reader

[arainbowofchaos]

Mentally Physically Weak

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : smut with some plot

word count: 3,5k

summary: Jungkook is waiting for you outside your workplace, a cigarette in his mouth, and you can hardly believe your luck. Above all, you're acutely aware of how weak you are for him, and you want to savor this moment as if it were the last.

[A/N]: Yesterday brought a whirlwind of events, and I couldn't resist the urge to pour out my heart for Jungkook.

You've never felt like this before, you're sure of it. That gnawing feeling in your stomach, that palpable excitement coursing through your body, that occasional wave of nausea flooding you because you're experiencing so many emotions at once. And you can't deny that it's invigorating, even if sometimes it feels like you're losing control. Something is exciting about giving yourself completely to him.

You watch Jungkook casually leaning against the wall of the store across from where you work. This is your moment, something you can enjoy before he notices your presence. He smokes, enveloped in a cloud of smoke that he exhales into the night air after putting the cigarette between his lips. The sight makes your stomach turn, as it seems surreal. It's late and darkness covers the sky. You're not sure if you're shivering because the cold of October is setting in or because of the anticipation that this man is waiting for you.

At last, Jungkook sees you, and as you gaze into each other's eyes across the distance, his expression changes, and softens, and a broad smile spreads across his face. His eyes shine with excitement, and you can feel his joy at finding you again. He throws away his cigarette and extinguishes it, as if he had only used it to relieve boredom, before joining you.

A colleague who leaves after you wishes you a good evening, and you wave to him. You see his gaze fix on Jungkook for a moment, and you realize he's confused. It's amazing how readily people judge your personal life. He sees this tall, imposing, black-clad figure with the look of a bad boy waiting for you in the night and thinks, "What is she doing with a guy like that?" He doesn't see that behind the tattoos and piercings are the kindest heart in the world and the most comforting arms you've ever found.

You wait impatiently for the light to turn green, and when it finally does, Jungkook is the first to run across the crosswalk to reach you. He moves gracefully, his dark curls dancing in the wind. As he approaches you, he leans down slightly to meet you at eye level, his hand resting on your cheek, and just like that, he leans forward to place his cool lips on yours. Your body warms just from the contact of his palm with your face, his fingers run tenderly over your skin. The trembling intensifies, and you feel like you could burst into tears at any moment. Why does it feel so incredible to be in his presence, to have him so close?

"Hey baby, you okay? Tough day, huh?" His voice sounds concerned - it cuts through the air like a rocket, and you don't have time to answer his questions before he wraps you in a strong hug. You might as well pass out; you trust him to take care of your lifeless body. The day has been so long, you're exhausted, and you just want him to take care of you. You shake your head as your face is buried in his t-shirt. "My baby is tired, I can feel it. What if I take you home?" This time you nod, relieved that he understands without you having to express yourself.

You and Jungkook didn't speak the same language. You didn't have the same culture or the same kind of profession. He's younger than you are. You met him when you came to Busan for your job. He loves music, photography, and drawing. He's an artist who enjoys life by creating what he loves, and you admire him for it. You're a product of the corporate world you’ve worked in for the last six years, and although you love your job, you're often exhausted by the endless days and relentless pace. When you met Jungkook, you immediately fell in love with this boy for whom life was an adventure while you knew only constraints.

Jungkook takes your hand firmly in his, and your heart beats a little faster at the difference in size; yours is so much smaller that it gets lost in his. He's so much more than you - smarter, funnier, more attractive; he's everything you could dream of in a human being. And you're shocked at the depth of your feelings. It often happens that you imagine a world where he has left you - and you don't know what you'd do, how you could find joy in life after a man made you feel so alive.

Your parents don't appreciate him, even without having met him yet. They've seen photos of him on your social media, and they're disgusted to see you wasting your time with a punk. You reassure them by explaining that Jungkook is a good person and that his appearance is due to his creative side, but they view your relationship with disapproval. From their perspective, they're mainly concerned that you've found an anchor besides your work, which implies that you have no intention of returning to your homeland. They are selfish; they want to see their daughter come back.

As you walk hand in hand with Jungkook through the dimly lit streets of the approaching autumn, his thumb gently caresses your wrist simply because he can't resist, and you continue to melt under his touch. You observe Jungkook as he gazes up at the sky, smiling. You dream of being able to live in his imagination; you're certain it's a beautiful place where the two of you could be happy together without any obstacles getting in the way.

"You're very uh… quiet tonight, do you want to talk?" Jungkook's accent is something that melts your heart - the way he searches for his words for you, the efforts he puts in to get better to understand you even more. It's his way of showing you that he's there for you, that you can confide in him at any moment. He can’t give you grand speeches about anything; he just wants you to be able to relax in his presence. You feel like you should talk if only to reassure him.

"Sorry... I'm a bit overwhelmed right now," you manage to articulate, then add, with a big smile and starry eyes, as you do every time you look at him, "Thank you for coming to pick me up; I can't imagine a better way to end my day." Your voice is almost shy. You could laugh at yourself for it; you've never been the shy type, but this man has a hold on you.

"Aww, it's nothing. I just wanted to see you," he responds, singing it out, "The day isn't over yet, want to eat something?" he asks with a strong sense of enthusiasm.

"I'm really craving Indian food, what do you think?" you suggest, and he eagerly agrees before scooping you into his arms and shouting, "Yayy, cheese naan!!!" Passersby look at you with surprise; some are taken aback by the sudden burst of excitement, while others offer kind smiles. And you, you continue to melt, slowly, in his arms, losing yourself in his embrace and his intoxicating scent that leaves your head spinning… You can't help but be constantly charmed by his unwavering enthusiasm. He's up for any plan as long as it means you're together, and especially if he can fill his belly at the same time...

Half an hour later, you find yourself seated on the terrace of your favorite Indian restaurant. It's not overly upscale, and you've always had a mild uncertainty about its hygiene standards. However, the food is undeniably delicious, and you've never experienced any health issues, so that's what truly matters. As the meal arrives, Jungkook eagerly devours his dish, and you barely eat yours. Ever since you met him, you've struggled with eating as if your body no longer requires sustenance beyond his presence.

Jungkook playfully dips his naan into your palak paneer, and you feign outrage while he chuckles at his joke. His eyes light up so much that you can hardly see them, his dimples etched into his handsome face, and his smile is on full display. Your heart races when you witness his happiness, you can't help it. You lean in slightly from your chair to surprise him with a kiss, causing him to stop laughing. He reciprocates with a more serious, urgent kiss that leaves you slightly off balance. He gently bites your lip, signaling his intentions, and you can't help but release a soft moan in response.

"Let's finish up and head home, huh?" His mischievous look speaks volumes about his eagerness to return. You blush because you know exactly what he means, and you signal the waiter to request a takeout box for the remainder of your dish. You're no longer hungry for food, only for his touch. 

It turns out that when Jungkook talks about home, he could just as easily be referring to your apartment or his - as long as it's just the two of you, it's your home. Since the Indian restaurant is closer to your place, you naturally head there after your meal. Upon entering your building, Jungkook nestles against your back, his hands gently encircling your hips, and his face finds solace in the curve of your neck as he plants tender kisses. You shiver, feeling your heart race in your chest. Even though you've been dating for months, you're still not entirely accustomed to this sensation; every time feels like the first.

You swiftly ascend the stairs, and with fervor, you open the door to your apartment, a tangible passion building up for the man still standing close behind you, ready to engulf you with affection.

"I want a dessert," Jungkook whispers against your lips with a quivering voice as you both find yourselves out of sight in the privacy of your living room. It becomes clear just how much your presence affects him.

"Go ahead and treat yourself," you innocently reply, pretending not to catch on to his intentions.

"Ah, that's what I had in mind," he retorts with a mischievous grin. At his words you feel Jungkook's hands move down to your ass and grip it, you moan softly as you can feel your body going weak in his hands.

Every time, it's the same old story – you feel like a toy in his skilled hands. Your legs can barely carry you to your room, so he lifts you, and you cling to him like a koala. In a hushed tone, you whisper that you love him. You told him after just a week, so you no longer have any reason to be ashamed of anything. The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you were done for. Jungkook has always responded positively to your declarations, and even now, he's quick to reassure you with an "I love you too." But deep down, you understand that he may never experience emotions as intense and all-consuming as yours. The truth is, he could ask you for anything, and you would do it without a second thought. You'll never admit it to anyone, but the way he looks at you keeps you alive. When you don't see him for a few days, you can feel how your enthusiasm for life is waning. The only way to lift your spirits is to think of him and his beautiful, goofy smile.

He gently places you on the bed and then lies on top of you, cradling your head in his hands. With intense sincerity, he whispers, "You're so beautiful," and you plead with eyes that are practically begging, "Jungkook, please kiss me." His face descends to yours, and his lips find yours effortlessly. He kisses you passionately as if it were the last time and your heart races. You desire him like you've never desired anyone before. Hearing his voice and feeling his touch never grows old. Between kisses, you continue to implore, tears glistening in your eyes in the dim light, "Please, don't ever leave me." 

You might come across as foolish, but that doesn't matter. When you become emotional, all you need is reassurance. It's your yearning for something absolute in a foreign land with a man who's not from your world. You want a forever happy ending, even though you know it's not possible, despite the promises of fidelity. In your case, you want him to be as free as he desires. It holds no value if he stays with you out of pity or because you ask him to. You'd like him to be just as consumed by his desire to be with you. And tonight, it seems to be the case, and that's enough for you.

“I’ll never leave you, baby,” he promises solemnly. You don’t want to think about the value of his promise as he undoes the buttons of your blouse to let your chest meet the cool air of the room and goosebumps appear on your skin. "You are cold." he observes “I’m going to make you hot.” and he smiles innocently, you think, he shouldn't have the right to be so angelic when he has just undone your bra with one hand behind your back without you even realizing it. Jungkook gets rid of your clothes that hinder his path to your breasts. He envelops your nipple in his mouth and does not neglect the other by enveloping it in his hand. Everything is hot and your head falls back on the bed as moans escape your lips. You feel the excitement spreading between your legs and you know that tonight again, it won't take you long to meet the stars. 

You feel his tongue move expertly and like every time you continue to beg him for more “Jungkook, please, I want to feel you.” your hands are lost in his soft, raven-black hair and he lifts his head, your breast still in his mouth as he smiles, the same mischievous smile from earlier “And my dessert?” he asks, laughing. He knows the effect he has on you since he stops playing with you for a moment to come back to your face and place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll have my dessert and then you can feel me, okay baby?”

You nod eagerly because you know what he means. He stands up and unzips your skirt to remove it completely, leaving you in just your panties, lying vulnerable under his gaze. "You are beautiful," he repeats to make sure you heard correctly. Jungkook kneels on the ground in front of you, and his arms grab behind your thighs to drag you to him. You let out a cry of surprise at the force of his gesture, and he laughs tenderly at your reaction. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says as if it were normal while you can barely breathe at the idea that he was even thinking about you. “I see you’re wet,” he says and you know he's praising you “Can I taste you?” he asks for permission, and you respond by removing your underwear for him, leaving your complete nudity in view. Jungkook licks his lips, playing with his piercing in the process, looking into your eyes, then his gaze returning between your legs “Gosh, so pretty.” and he fucking smiles.

You close your eyes when his face disappears between your legs and you feel his tongue playing with your clit, getting straight to the point. You can’t stop the moans that escape your throat, and soon you can’t think at all. His hands caress your hips while his mouth devours your most intimate area and you can do nothing but feel all the good he does to you. You need him; feeling him so close to you is never enough. “Jungkook… more please.” you plead and he pauses, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, his lips and chin covered in your juices “I like it when you… uh… when you beg me? That's right?" and you can't believe this is the time he chose for an English lesson. You nod and rephrase “I’m begging you Jungkook, please give me more.” 

He laughs softly, proud to see you so needy for him and to improve his vocabulary in bed. His hand replaces where his face was a few seconds before, and his finger comes to caress your clit, before moving lower between your folds, a moment later and you feel two fingers inside you. You gasp, your breath hitching as he pushes his fingers inside you in a back-and-forth motion that makes you salivate. You've lost all logic and ability to think as you take what he gives you with incoherent moanings. 

“I want you,” he says suddenly, sensing that you are ready for him. You come out of your trance to open your eyes and see that he is looking at you with a much darker gaze than before. That's where he finally gives you the show you've been waiting for, getting up to take off his black t-shirt, and leaving his bulging muscles and sleeve of tattoos in view for you to admire. He also takes off his cargo pants, his massive erection not very well hidden under his underwear “Do you like the view?” he asks with a smirk and you blush, unable to respond to his comment. He gets rid of his boxer and your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the sight of his length standing proudly in front of you. You feel weak for him—mentally and physically. You're acutely aware of what lies ahead, and every fiber of your being quivers with eager anticipation. Jungkook enters you effortlessly, as you are always ready for him, no matter the moment. 

Often, nothing seems to make sense, but in moments like this, when he makes love to you and you can see the most profound adoration in his eyes, you feel genuinely ecstatic to be alive. You can hear his adorable grunt every time you clench around him, adding sensation, and it sends shivers down your spine. He exudes an irresistible charm effortlessly. You only feel complete in his presence, and you thank the universe for putting this luminous being on your path. Jungkook kisses you again, going back and forth, and you can barely respond to his kiss because of how full you feel. You moan nonsense and he speaks things that you can barely make out. Your tongues duel and it's dirty and messy and perfect. You tremble from head to toe, lost in his embrace.

He pulls out of you and orders you to turn around, which you do immediately. You lie down on your stomach and feel him position himself behind you, his cock at your entrance before coming back inside you deeply, a new angle allowing you to feel him even better. You scream, tears streaming down your cheeks as your head rests on the cool mattress. Jungkook continues to increase his pace, letting you chase your orgasm, the sweet melody of skin on skin echoes through the room before he seductively asks you, “Please cum for me, baby.” Tears of pleasure continue to stream as he taps against your sensitive and delicious spot, and you finally end up seeing the stars while shouting his name. “Jungkook” you exhale, delirious, as he continues a few more thrusts before cumming inside you as well.

When you come back to reality, he's lying on top of you - careful not to put his full weight on you either - he's reciting praises to you in Korean and your heart aches at the thought of him being comfortable enough to let go in his native language. He places kisses on your shoulder before pulling out. You feel him moving behind before he comes back to gently clean up the mess he made. After that, he lies down next to you, drawing you close into his embrace once more. The two of you remain there, locked in a tender hug, for a few precious minutes. And then, he utters those words that resonate deep within your heart, "I will never leave you." A warm, contented smile graces your face as you bury it into his sweaty, bare chest, finding solace and security in his unwavering promise.

What remains etched in your memory is the fact that you have this one more night with him, and in this fleeting moment, that's all that truly matters. The ability to revel in these stolen moments of intimacy with him fills you with profound gratitude. Wrapped in his loving embrace, the world beyond fades into insignificance – the desperate glances of your colleagues, the reproachful words of your parents – all become distant echoes.

Regardless of what anyone else thinks or what the uncertain future may hold, you banish those concerns from your mind. In this singular instant, you crave nothing more than to bask in the comforting cocoon of his embrace, to savor the warmth of his presence for one more night.

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