#i listen to electric love ONCE and get fucking POSSESSED

[kimodraw]

Thunder's getting louder and louder and louder

#xmen #xmen fanart #ororo x logan #ororo munroe #logan howlett #wolverine/storm #forgot their ship name.... #i listen to electric love ONCE and get fucking POSSESSED #i think theyre my fav canon relationship......love them love the outback era #also drawing size differences is hard #also also on a different reading this drawing is just me being very gay abt my very gay current life experiences...... #peace and love on planet earth

[respectthepetty]

Tan is my Debbie, and I love him

I don't wanna hurt anybody. I don't enjoy hurting anybody. I don't like guns, or bombs, or electric chairs. But sometimes people just won't listen. And so, I have to use persuasion. And slides. -Debbie Jellinsky

I was for White being the final gay, but . . . SHUT UP, SIR!

We all know he is a smart boy, but why is spilling all the secrets, all the time. Just go with Tan's theory that it's Janta possessing Top, and not drugs. Read the room! It's chaos. We don't have time for logic! If he wants to survive, I need him to lock those lips tight!

And then Phi is just spilling all the tea because he got laid once and caught feelings.

Damn, commit to the fucking bit, bro! If you're gonna be homosexual about it, at least make it "Be Gay, Do Crime" like Tan. For three whole seconds, I actually shipped this!

But Tan NEVER loses focus!

Only for Jin to come in on his shitty high horse trying to call out Tan.

But, once again, my Barbie does. not. lose. focus.

Non is still wearing that red bracelet in these flashbacks

While Phi is promising to protect Jin as they get lost and stalked in the woods and leave an axe in the middle of the road! Non + axe that was left behind = my life force

That's not what I wanted! That's not who I was. I was a *ballerina*, graceful, delicate! They had to go.

Tan had a life. Tan had a future. Then, these boys fucked over his brother, and now he has no one, so I'm fully on Team "Tan gets to kill EVERYBODY"

It's what Debbie would have wanted.

#KILL THEM ALL TAN #Dead Friend Forever #I am now fully on his side #no survivors #and my boy gets to walk out of this alive #WITH HIS BROTHER

[jjungkookislife]

One For The Money

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: mafia au, established relationship, smut [21+]

summary: Yoongi's not afraid to collect his own payments, to get his hands dirty, or to put you in your place.

wc: 871

warnings: mafia au, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), mention of murder with chopsticks, choking, degradation, use of a knife to cut clothing, implied smut

date: April 21, 2023

The air seemed to shift the moment Yoongi's sneakers passed the threshold, somehow growing colder despite knowing it was all in his head. He evened out his breathing, listening to the tapping of your claw-like fingernails on the armrest of your chair as you stared out the window. 

Despite his quiet footsteps, you were aware of his presence. Yoongi had never been able to sneak up on you. Never. 

Slowly, your chair spins and you face him as he stops at your desk, setting the duffel bag on top of it. Your most prized possession hisses at being disturbed from her midday nap, a thick diamond-encrusted collar around her neck. Muffin. Yoongi smirks. What a fitting name.

“Chopsticks?” You raise a brow at the man in front of you. His electric blue jacket barely looks disheveled, but the same can’t be said for his pretty onyx locks that you were tugging on just this morning when he woke you with that sinful tongue of his. But not even getting you off would curve your anger. 

“It’s what I had available,” Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly as he rounds the desk to sit on the corner, his usual spot when Muffin isn’t on it. 

“It’s what I had available,” You mock rolling your eyes. Yoongi chuckles, smirking as he takes in your appearance. Your hair is immaculate, not a single strand out of place, your eyeliner sharp like the knife you conceal on your thigh, and your lips red like the blood he had spilled just hours before. 

Yoongi is fast when he wraps his hand around your throat, grinning maniacally as he pulls you close.  

“Don’t you know better than to mock me, princess? You think just because I let you sit in my chair while I’m gone that you’re in charge? You might be my bride-to-be, but I still call the shots around here,” Yoongi scoffs. 

You smile widely, opening your mouth further and sticking your tongue out. Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back but never loosening the hold on your throat. 

“You’re just my little cock hungry slut, huh?” He smirks, clicking his tongue as he leans over your face. “Tell me, love. Have you been waiting for my return? Aching just to feel my hands on you, perhaps my tongue once again?”

You nod, just barely, but it’s not good enough. 

“Answer me when I ask you a question, princess. Or have you already forgotten?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Good girl,” Yoongi finally pressed his lips to yours. You moan against his lips, hands gripping his shirt as his necklace dangles over your hands. 

Before things can progress, a loud thump has you pulling apart. 

Yoongi groans. “That cat is the biggest fucking cockblock.”

“You love her,” You laugh as you rise from Yoongi’s chair to grab the duffel bag Muffin had pushed off the desk. Yoongi takes a seat, patting his lap for you to join him. Your heels click as you return to him, bag in hand. 

Slowly, Yoongi wraps his hand around your ankle, moving his hand upward until his hand finds the small blade on your thigh. He takes it out of the holster with ease as you open the bag full of money, smiling. 

“It’s all here?” You ask him as he cleans under his nail with the sharp blade, a bit of dried blood from before. 

“Mhmm, bitch knows better than to short me,” Yoongi shrugs as he cleans the blade on his pants. You fan yourself with a stack of money and Yoongi cuts the band. It goes flying all around you. 

“Yoongi!” You huff in annoyance. You’ll have to get someone to collect it all. Yoongi is silent as he drops the bag on the floor. A yowl from Muffin fills the air before she’s running out of the room through the cat door. Another expense Yoongi had paid for. 

Happy wife, happy life, and all that jazz. He figures he has a few minutes before the feline is interrupting again, staring into his soul with those emerald eyes. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” he demands, eyes sparkling with mischief. You kiss him anyway, gasping when the blade cuts through your blazer and white top as if it were nothing.  

Yoongi cackles as you shove him playfully. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he shrugs as he runs the blade over your skin just to watch you shiver from the iciness before he’s cutting your bra off, too. 

“I don’t have any extra clothes here,” you inform him as he sets the blade down on the desk, far enough to make sure it won’t hurt either of you. 

“Who says you’ll need them?” He licks his lips as he peels the clothes off you and makes you sit on the desk. He bunches your skirt up to your hips and you lean back on your elbows when he’s tugging your panties down your thighs. 

“Don’t you look delectable just like this, princess?” Yoongi groans when you spread your legs apart, pulling his chair close and placing your ankles on his shoulder. 

Yoongi meets your hungry gaze, licking his lips one last time before he dives right in.

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #btshoneyhive #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi mafia au #yoongi implied smut

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Okay so a couple recent projects have ended up featuring these movies and now my brain won’t leave me alone about this so I’m posting it for the maybe two (2) other people who would care...

Spoilers for Malignant and Basket Case ahead

...Who would win in a fight between Duane and Belial from Basket Case and Maddie and Gabriel from Malignant?

So one would think that the undisputed champions would be Maddie and Gabriel, hands down. Duane looks kind of tall but is very much Just Some Guy, and while Belial seems to have some above-average strength, he’s far from superhuman. Judging only from the first movie because I haven’t seen the sequels yet, they can take on other humans of equal strength to or weaker than them just fine, but typically make sure to have the element of surprise first or be otherwise sneaky about their kills. 

Maddie and Gabriel, though? Holy shit they are a nightmare. They do not give a FUCK about stealth because they don’t have to. Not only can they tap into some super strength and agility, the way they move (ESPECIALLY Gabriel, master of the patented Ass-Backwards Spider Style) is so goddamn weird that no one can figure out how to counter them before they bite it. Gabriel can drink electricity and fire it back at everyone like a madman. He massacres an entire police station without getting a scratch on them. They would eat Duane and Belial alive. 

IF.

IF they could function long enough to manage it.

Because here’s the catch: Maddie and Gabriel hate each other. 

They have never once gotten along in their lives. Their entire movie is the two of them manipulating and backstabbing each other and fighting for control of their body. The odds are actually very low that they could ever agree on something, let alone cooperate enough to efficiently operate their body together or hand control smoothly back and forth. The fear that the other one would just be waiting to fuck them over the second they let their guard down would mar every move they made. So if it has to be a two-on-two match, that’s going to severely impact their performance. 

Duane and Belial, though? Their entire movie runs on how fucking inseparable they are. (You know what I mean.) Up until Belial goes and does all That Shit and their relationship takes a real fast nosedive, they’re pretty good brothers! They plan murders together! They listen to Shakespeare and walk around New York City together! Duane carries Belial around in a fairly comfy-looking basket, as baskets go, and feeds him meats! They love each other!

(Gabriel: maddie. maddie why can’t you be more like that fluffy haired loser. maddie you see how he treats his brother? maddie how come you never pour packages of raw hot dogs into my mouth. maddie.

Maddie: I wonder if sticking just the back of my head into a blender would kill me.)

Duane and Belial were not okay with being separated and they both want to kill the doctors that tore them apart, not just Belial. Both Gabriel and Belial are intensely, viciously possessive of their twin siblings. But unlike Gabriel, who would sell Maddie to Satan for one corn chip if he could have their body to himself, even when Duane starts to have a life outside of Belial and do things Belial can’t (at which point Belial does flip absolute shit, mind you) Belial has no desire for their body, Belial just wants Duane. He wants to have a life with his brother and would NOT appreciate Gabriel making shit explode where it could hit Duane.

The key difference between them really shows in how they both use their Twin Telepathy thing. Basically it’s just:

Belial speaking into Duane’s head:

Gabriel speaking into Maddie’s head:

Duane and Belial actually use it to communicate with one another, since Belial can’t speak. Outside of the hanging-dong dream sequence (and my fucking goodness is that scene a whole separate analysis in itself), it’s never implied that the connection can be used for any more than that.

Gabriel and Maddie only ever use it to fuck each other over with hallucinations and verbal abuse. They don’t want to have conversations, they don’t want to communicate, they just want the other one subjugated at best and to suffer at worst. It’s not a mark of closeness as twins, it’s a yoke around both their necks.

So basically...

Duane: I dunno, those guys look pretty tough…

Belial, Belial Roaring™ : THEY ARE NOTHING. I’M GOING TO KILL THIS MOTHERFUCKER. THROW ME AT THAT HEAD LIKE A BASKETBALL.

Gabriel, chugging from the power lines: YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONE WHO GETS TO KILL ME? I’M FUCKING CRAZY! I’LL EAT YOUR FUCKING BROTHER YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

Maddie:

the block is on fire within two minutes. no idea who’s getting out alive, the only guarantee is that it’s an absolute shitshow.

(also: Gabriel was given an angel’s name and Belial was given a demon’s name. This is absolutely irrelevant but I Noticed It.) 

#malignant #basket case #horror #kaen's posts

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐶𝑂𝐷𝐸 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝐸

𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Steve is angry on you for behaving recklessly and you decide to let him take his anger out on you in a very unprofessional way...

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Unprotected sex, spanking, shower sex, rough sex, hair pulling, handjob, choking, PWP (porn with a very little plot... wait who am I lying to? It’s porn.) 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘿𝙉𝙄!

For my sake, your sake, your mom’s sake and for the betterment of the entire world, if you are a minor, please do not read this!🔞

Beta’d by the wonderful @lex-the-flex But all mistakes are mine

This is my first time writing smut, so please be kind 🥺 It’s filth... absolutely filth, even I can’t believe I’ve written this 🤦🏽‍♀️ I hope to god my mom never finds this and Marvel is probably gonna sue me for writing this.

“Steve!”

You exclaimed as he shut the door right in front of your face. Closing your eyes, you pressed your face to the door and sighed. You wanted to bang the door until he opened and explain Steve that all you did was your job. But you didn’t, instead you went to your own room next door and sulked.

You and Steve were on a mission to take down a hydra base. For the first few days, all you both did was map out the building. Once sure enough of your plans, you had finally breached it this morning.

In the beginning everything was just as expected. But then during the fight, you had spotted a man aiming his gun at an unaware Steve and like the love crazed woman you were, you shielded Steve with your own body.

Gladly Steve realised it before the damage was done and quickly held the shield in front of your both, deflecting the bullet. At your stunt, he had clenched his jaw and given an angry glare to you and had resumed fighting.

You had thought that was the extent of his anger at your carelessness, but apparently you were wrong. Steve hadn’t spoken a word to you after that. He had been silent throughout the entire ride to the hotel.

As he kept on fuming with unspoken anger, you tried your best to mend the situation by repeatedly calling out his name and talking about random things to yourself.

You actually didn’t know why he was angry. Agreed it was a stupid decision to be standing in front of a bullet, but you did it to save your teammate, at least that’s what you justified it with.

The truth was you were hopelessly in love with Steve Rogers. Soon after you had joined the avengers, you and Steve had become best friends. You hadn’t even planned on befriending him, forget about falling in love.

But with all his charm and naivety it was impossible not to fall for him. Not to mention his godly body. With the way he sometimes got flustered in front of you, you thought he felt something for you too, but you canceled it down by calling it wishful thinking.

While you both shared all your problems and worries with each other, you kept your emotions under wraps.

When you had seen the man aim his gun at Steve, your heart had literally stopped beating. The thought of living in a world without Steve in it was much more harrowing than your own death. So you did what you had to.

But now his silence was speaking louder than his words. It wouldn’t have felt this bad if he had scolded you or given you one of his long boring lectures, but this tactic of not talking with you was hurting you much worse.

The entire time you stripped out of your Kevlar suit and bathed, your mind was occupied by Steve’s silence. No matter how much you thought, you still couldn’t understand what had made him so mad.

After all, signing up with the avengers meant you would get into fights and get injured. The mantle of being an avenger came with a few broken bones.

And you weren’t the first to make such risky decisions during a mission, there had been many before you and there would be many after. So what was all this fuss about?

As you were pacing around your room, chewing your bottom lip, you stopped suddenly and took in a sharp breath. You couldn’t go back with this mess. Whatever it was, you had to sort it out and for that you needed to talk.

Deciding that it was now or never, you stepped out of your room and stood in front of Steve’s. You placed your ear on the door to check for any activity but there was none. You hoped to god he hadn’t fallen asleep.

Gathering all the strength you had, you knocked on the door, once, twice... thrice. But there was still no response. This had your mental alarms ringing. Steve sure wouldn’t ignore you this much, what if he was in danger?

Thinking of the worst case scenario, you crouched down and started picking the lock with your hair pin. As you opened the door and entered the room, you finally heard the noise of cascading water.

You huffed out a breath of relief. All this time he was just taking a shower and you thought about the possibilities of him getting murdered; you sure were an over thinker.

You didn’t know why but your feet weren’t retreating from the room. The sane part of your brain was telling you to go and come back later. And yet you stood awkwardly straight in the middle of his room.

You didn’t know how it happened, you swear to god didn’t realise. But all of a sudden you were standing in front of the bathroom door. You were burning with warmth from head to toe and you could listen to your heart beat in your ear.

Placing one hand on the door and the other on the knob, you tried to think for a moment. But somehow, your brain couldn’t process anything, except Steve. You slowly turned the knob and the door creaked open.

If Steve asked you what you were doing, which he definitely was going to, you would answer that you were sleepwalking or maybe you were possessed by a horny ghost. You wondered which one was more plausible.

The sight which greeted you was better than any you had ever seen. Steve was standing with his broad back facing you, glistening under the trickling water droplets.

His muscled expanse was stretched out magnificently under the shower, the water making rivulets into the grooves of his chiseled back. He straightened visibly under your watchful eye as he became aware of your entrance.

You waited for his scolding as you nibbled your bottom lip. You waited for him to tell you how immoral and indecent this was. You waited for him to fire you on the spot.

But nothing came from his side except strained breaths. It was as if he was doing some physical exertion by standing ramrod straight. As he tensed, his back muscles flexed even more and you wanted nothing more than to lick up the water drops.

Your mouth had fallen open and you were already panting and his body wasn’t the only thing wet. Seeing that he was neither bursting with anger nor reprimanding you for your actions, you decided to let your eyes wander further.

Your body lit itself on fire the moment you eyed his sculpted glutes. It was definitely, undoubtedly America’s ass. God, the things you wanted to do to him and the things you’d let him do to you.

You looked up to see Steve had turned his head a little and was staring at you through the corner of his eye. Taking that as a hint, you walked further until you were inside the shower.

The water seeped through your clothes as you stood right behind Steve. You were so close that the only thing in front of your eyes was his broad back. Yet he didn’t turn to face you.

Your hand shivered despite the warm water as you touched his back. That simple contact passed an electric current through Steve and you could hear his audible gasp.

Keeping one hand on his back, you moved your dominant hand further onto his chest. After palming his abs for sometime, you snaked your hand further down.

But before you could reach your destination, a strong hand curled around your wrist, limiting your movements. “Don’t.” It was the first word he had said to you after the mission.

His voice was hoarse and deep and you wondered if it was possible for you to come just with his voice. “But what if I want to?” You really were possessed, because you definitely didn’t have this much confidence.

Unexpectedly, your defiance worked and he loosened his hold, though he didn’t remove his hand. When you finally touched his warm cock, which was standing hard proudly, you moaned and buried your face into his back.

“Fuck.” Steve cursed as you rubbed him. You had heard him cursing a few times before, but listening to it now just melted you into a puddle. You pressed your face further into his back as you kept palming him, his hand was still on your wrist as a reminder, though he wasn’t guiding your movements.

You wondered how he would fit inside you, as you were barely able to curl your hand around his massive length. One second you were jerking him off and the next you were pinned to the wall, facing him. You blinked rapidly to steady your senses.

The hand he had used to pull you forward was now held against the wall and you had placed the other on his chest. His entire body was blushing hard and his face was just as flustered as yours.

Steve placed his hand gently on your cheek, a stark contrast to his previous actions. He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips as first but he didn’t go any further.

Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stared at him in confusion. Noticing the question on his face, you realised he was asking for permission. Nodding your head rapidly, you replied with a breathy yes.

That’s all it took for him to smash his face into yours. His kiss wasn’t a perfect or a practiced one, but what he lacked in experience, he made it up with his passion and edge.

You were actually tongue fucking each other and you didn’t regret a moment. You were close to eating each other’s faces off when you finally parted.

You panted and arched your back, exposing your neck as he sucked down your jaw to your neck. Without giving you a moment to gather yourself, he tore your tank top right through the middle.

And the only thing your mushy brain capable of saying was, “Holy shit.” It was the hottest thing you had ever seen. The way his arms flexed as he tore the fabric made you gush.

He discarded the now useless tank top carelessly on the floor and bent down to suck your nipples. You were about to go to sleep and thus weren’t wearing any bra. You let out an unholy moan at the sensation and the sight of him suckling you.

You carded your hands through his hair only for him to take your hands and pin them back to the wall. “Oh Steve.” As you moaned his name, he looked up at you through his lustrous blue eyes.

All of a sudden he let go of your hands and nipple and as you whimpered in dissatisfaction, he quickly tugged your pants down. He practically growled at the sight of you naked in front of him.

He placed his hands on your ass as he knead it while simultaneously kissing you stupid. He shifted his hands from your ass to your thighs and in one swift motion picked you up.

You hadn’t ever been picked up by anyone before and for once you were glad that Steve had taken the serum. He carried you out of the shower and into the room.

You were going to complain about how you were going to ruin the carpet with water when he all but gently threw you into the bed, face down.

You gathered yourself on your hands and knees just as he positioned himself behind you. Steve didn’t know what got into him when he saw your ass perched up in the air, but he went absolutely feral.

He wanted to talk and tell you things, but currently he was incapable of doing anything but devour you. He placed his huge palms on your ass and started kneading, but the thing he did next, took you by absolute surprise.

He spanked your ass, hard. At the contact you let out a loud surprised shriek. You had no idea captain America was a kinky little shit, not that you were complaining.

While you were turned on beyond your senses, Steve mistook your surprise for pain. He snapped out of whatever haze had taken over him, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You looked back at Steve with confusion. “God. No. Steve, you didn’t hurt me. I liked it.” You said with such shyness as if you hadn’t just given him a handjob moments ago.

“Do more.” You asked and he delivered. Steve understood that you wanted it rough, and who was he to deny. He spanked your ass thrice more, alternating the cheek, in quick succession, only to rub it gently later.

He kept up with the contrast of quick spanks and gentle kneads until you sobbed with wrecked pleasure and delightful pain.

When you came back from your blissful high, you realised Steve was pressing soft kisses to your back. You strained your neck at an odd angle and pulled Steve in for a kiss.

It was gentle and filled with adoration and love, a great disparity to what just happened. Steve was rutting against your ass as he deepened the kiss.

Parting from the kiss, he took hold of his cock and jerked it a few times before rubbing himself against your drenched folds. You were already so dripping that you didn’t need any extra stimulation.

Finally he pushed in the tip and you moaned like in heat at the sweet pressure. Gladly he gave you a moment before pushing slowly further, inch by inch.

No matter how wet, or in a sex haze you were, you both knew he wasn’t easy to take. All the while, Steve was muttering praises and soft words to you.

When he finally bottomed out, you both moaned out with pleasure. After giving you some time to adjust, he pulled back only to push back in with a measured but powerful thrust.

“Oh fuck!” Overcome with pleasure, you slapped a hand on the headboard to hold yourself steady while you clutched Steve’s ass with the other to hold him as close to you as possible.

He began with slow yet hard thrusts but soon he changed rhythm and started fucking you in earnest. The headboard rattled against the wall as Steve held your shoulder with one hand and supported you both with another placed firmly on the bed.

You had got a hundred dreams about Steve railing the shit out of you. But nothing matched the actual thing.

Steve experimentally wove his fingers through your hair and when you let out something between a moan and a demand for more, he clutched and pulled it tightly making your eyes roll back with euphoria.

“Stevveee, I... Stevie, I’m close,,... oh fuck!” The only thing you could do was moan wantonly and take everything Steve gave you.

Just as Steve felt your walls quivering, he pulled out. He groaned with frustration as you were so so close. But before you could formate any words, he flipped you around.

“I want to watch you as you come for me.” He said bending down to press a kiss. This time, he entered you in one swift motion.

Curling a hand around his neck, you held the head board with other as you arched into his touch. He was grunting loudly and his voice was having more effect than it should have on you.

You were close, so very close, but you needed more, something more. “Steve, choke me.” You whimpered. Steve faltered for a moment before realising what you had said.

When Steve placed his hand delicately on your throat, which you had exposed to him, you knew you were going to have the best orgasm of your life.

Steve squeezed your throat, and at that very second, you orgasmed like never before. Your toes curled and legs shook uncontrollably as you babbled nonsense.

You felt as if you saw the deepest crevices of the universe and snorted the most powerful drug as white pleasure enveloped you.

Steve, in spite of his super soldier stamina, gave in to pleasure as your walls hugged him tight. With a shout, he came deep within you.

After the pleasure faded and the fatigue had set in, you both laid limply within a tangle of limbs and in each other’s embrace.

“Steve.” You croaked as he kept on prepping you with kisses. He only hummed in response. “I love you.” At that the kisses stopped.

You worried if this was the end of everything, but when you looked up in his eyes, you knew it was just the beginning. His eyes were filled with love.

“I love you too.” He smashed your lips once again and you responded just as enthusiastically. “I can’t think of living without you. You mean everything to me.

When I saw you in front of the gun, I was so scared. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to save you.” You caressed his face as you said, “But you did. And I know you always will Steve.”

“That I will.” You knew that Steve would keep you safe. You knew that in his warm embrace, nothing in this world would touch you.

“Steve, if you ever get mad at me, talk to me, scold me, give me on of your boring lectures if you want, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“If ignoring you is going to lead to this, then I’ll probably give you the silent treatment.” He chuckled as you punched him playfully.

You couldn’t believe you were in love with this goof, or that he was just as in love with you.

#chris evans #mcu #marvel #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x reader smut #marvel smut #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #filthy smut #chris evans smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot

[plush-rabbit]

Thorn In Your Mouth

Request: I'm not quite sure if requests are open, but if they are, may I please request some nsfw noncon with Lucifer or Satan from obey me with a fem! MC?

They're demons, and they love quite differently from humans. One could say their love is overly suffocating and affectionate…

Warning: Noncon

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: i think i made him more jealous in this so,,, hope you like it??

-

It was sweet at first to have Satan fret over you, to care for you in such a way that made you feel safe, but you soon learned that you craved your space, that you missed whenever you could just go out without having to worry about him getting angry at you. He might have directed his wrath towards you at first, but it was never in this way, never in such a jealousy, overwhelming way that you made you grit your teeth and glare at his back. A part of you knows that this is what you signed up for- he’s a demon, one born out of wrath no less, but you didn’t want that to cloud you. You wanted to see the good in him. But even so, he’s still a demon- a possessive one that fears losing you more than anything.

“Where were you?” He asks, his voice steady and eyes piercing into yours. “I tried calling you but-” he tilts his head and an uncomfortable grin pulls at his lips- “you didn’t answer.”

You’re tired of it all. You’re exhausted and just want to borrow a book that could help you sleep. You’re the one to break eye contact with him fist, turning around and rubbing your hand over your neck. “I don’t know Satan, I was just out with friends.” You grab at a book, the title written in thin letters and eager to be done with the conversation, you accept it. “It’s no biggie.” It shouldn’t be and it isn’t. And yet, anxiety still plagues your body.

The exit is near, the doors closed and the light in the hallway, a dim glow signaling that it is indeed time for bed. You make your way, only to be halted by Satan’s hand wrapping around your wrist. “It is a ‘biggie’-” he quotes, annoyance a sliver on his tongue- “when you don’t tell me where or who you’re going out with.” His grip tightens on you and your hand grows stiff, a twinge of fear pooling against your stomach. “What if you were hurt? What then?” You narrow your eyes at him and feebly try to pull away your arm from him. He doesn’t relent. “Where were you?”

Finding it much easier to just tell the truth and get it over with, you sigh. “I was out with friends, Satan. Some imps and incubi from the seventh period. You know them,” you add, hoping that it’ll jog his memory and remind him that it’s mutual friends that he’s so worried about. “We went to the mall and got some ice cream there.”

“Multiple people you went out with then, huh.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing back to where your wrist is held in his hand. “And if I am their friend- as you say- then why wasn’t I invited?”

You shrug, giving him a puzzled stare. “I don’t know. You weren’t in class. You had some lunch to go to with those friends of yours. We’ll invite you next time.” You yank at your wrist, only to be met with a tighter hold. “Satan. Let go.”

“Do you love me?” He asks, the tension in the room is lost on him and you look at him with an incredulous look, surprised that he would even ask you that at a time like this. “Because I love you. I’m a good partner. I listen and I kiss you and yet, you go around with a group of demons and do who-knows-what while I sit at home waiting for you to come back.”

The meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. Your arm is stretched, extended out as he still holds a grip on you but you need the distance as slight as it may be. “Are you implying that I cheated on you?” He doesn’t respond and stays with his eyes locked on yours. “Satan, I went out with friends. That’s it! Nothing more and nothing less. What the actual fuck.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, the book now discarded on the table beside you. “You know what? Just let go. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your eyes catch at the underside of the door where the light remains steady, the yellow glow teasing at you where freedom lies. “Satan, you’re hurting me.” You hope that that is enough to make him realize what he’s doing.

You’re pushed over the edge of the table, your stomach painfully pressing against the edge of the wood. Your hands flail for a moment, patting and scratching against the table, your legs tense as you call his name, anger evident in your voice. “What the fuck is your problem?” You hiss out, your palms against the table only to be pulled away and grabbed in his hands. “Satan,” you call his name, worry and fear intertwining together. He remains silent, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor as he presses himself close to you, his groin pressed against your rear. “Satan, what the fuck are you doing?”

There's a crackle of energy that fills your ear, a popping sound akin to Black Cats, the smell of mahogany and citrus in the air as his hands tighten around you. Skin slips away, a harsh press against the back of your head as you’re pushed into the warming wood, and you’re frozen in fead. The room, while devoid of talk, is filled with noise- the buzzing of the electricity, the cracking of his tail and the deep breaths that he takes, the high sound of his zipper becoming undone and the clicking of his shoes. The noise is driving you insane, blood in your ears as you gasp out his name, trying to turn your head, but only being able to face the wall, and you catch a g,impe of yourself in a mirror, faced down with a demon towering behind you.

“You know that I love you, right?” Something sharp replaces where his hands used to be, thorns piercing into your tender skin as you feel his hands hook on the waistband of your jeans. Your breath stops, and something heavy pools on your tongue. “I do everything right by you and yet-” his nails scratch against your skin- “you treat me like trash. You treat me as if I don’t matter.” Cold air meets your warm skin and you’re left in your underwear and shirt, your sex covered by thin fabric. “Do I not matter to you?” He says your name and it isn’t something sweet, it isn’t something that makes you feel warm. It’s something that sounds too foul to be said out loud. He’s ruined your name in just one simple sentence.

“You matter Satan,” you whisper, clenching your sex. Your eyes are unmoving, watching your distant reflection that has a monster behind you, their hands on your underwear and tearing it from your body. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “Satan, sweetheart, please. Let’s talk, okay? Please.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” The tip of his cock is pressed against your thigh, something cool leaking down your leg in a slimy trail. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Were you keeping it a secret from me?” You shake your head, rubbing along the wood and his hand returns to your head, yanking at your hair and pulling on the strands until you rise and are brought on your knees before him. “No? Really? You’re going to lie to me?”

His erection is close to you, close enough to feel the heat, to see how the tip leaks with his pearling semen. “I’m not-”

“If you’re going to lie, then I'd rather just put your mouth to better use.” He grabs your face, dark green scales that run along his body and trail at his thighs. Your nose is pushed against the underside of his cock, his ridges pressing into you and semen already leaking onto your hairline. His scent is strong, suffocating as he pulls you back, your mouth opening when he twists at your hair, a sharp scream that is soon muffled by his cock entering your mouth. “Make sure you get it wet enough. It’s my cock that I’m going to stick in your little holes.”

Wasting no time, you’re pushed to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He holds you there, letting his cockhead drip down your throat with his heavy semen. Your tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his ridges, the pointed end of his cock ticking at the back of your throat as he starts to move.

It’s a slow choking motion, his cock filling your mouth only to empty it in a way that makes you feel dumb enough to breathe. Every breath is stuck, lodged in the back of your throat and leaving you a choking mess against his cock. He wastes no time, holding the sides of your head and pushing himself inside of you, using your mouth as his own toy.

Each thrust of his cock has your stomach rising, acid billowing in the base of your throat, his scent and cologne mixing together to overstimulate yourself. Your name is whispered, a soft prayer under his tongue as he deflies your mouth, semen spilling and filling your mouth, tears that sting against your eyes and drip past your chin. It’s harsh, and unforgiving and in your head you curse him and plead to whatever God there is, that he’ll let you live and walk away, that this is some horrific nightmare to make you into a follower. You choke and cy, your throat constricting and face becoming hot, shame and horror flooding throughout your body and you’re left sobbing against his cock.

His hands are rough, nothing like you know them to be, his words soft as ever and yet, you’re still pushed down to the table with your jaw slack and drool dripping down your chin and tears mixing with the heavy liquid. Your mouth is stained with his semen, white bubbling out past your lips as you meet your reflection once more. Your legs are spread and you can only think of saying his name, to have your hands paw pitifully at the table as you call him through a broken mantra.

You’re glad that you listened to him, that you did get his cock wet enough to slip in you without fuss. It’s a slight pinch, sharp and twisting inside of you as your thrusted into, your chest pressed against the wooden table. Everything is on high alert, all your senses overloaded as your sex is filled, ridges tickling inside your walls. Each thrust clicks, a wet snap as he pushes himself inside of you, his tail wrapping around your throat and yanking you upwards, a string of drool snaps against your chin as it’s ripped from the desk. The tip of his tail is thick, filling your mouth as it rests on your tongue, the edges poking against the inside of your cheeks. You’re lifted, your legs bent and resting on the table as he pushes inside of you, your cunt fluttering against him as his base thickens, warm seed coating your walls.

He pulls out of you, and you whisper a soft thank you, your head turning, the red wood clouding your vision. You ignore the feeling of his hand that crawls over your rear, that tickles against your curve and pushes against your taint.

“No, no,” you moan, your body weak and in pain to stop him from continuing. Not like this Satan, please.” But he’s too overwhelmed to listen to you, pressing the slender tip of his cock against the rim of your hole and pushing inside of you.

You squeal and it’s enough for him to push himself inside of you, each curve and ridge filling and marking the inside of you. Your body spasms, your cunt warm and dripping with his semen. His tail pushes deeper inside of you, choking you and letting you taste your spit and his seed that still lingers.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “Please,” he begs, holding your body as he enters you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain twisting together leaving you tense and biting on his tail, your tongue pressed firmly against a ridge.

“It hurts,” you mewl, your hands cupping over your breasts to stop the shameful movement. “‘M sorry,” you mumble, your tongue swishing over his tail. With you being stretched, you can feel him in certain areas that makes your body tense and flex. Despite the uncaring nature, you still react to him, shaking and tightening yourself around him, calling his name as you drool over his tail and onto your shirt.

“I love you,” Satan mutters, “I love you,” he repeats, holding you close to him, feeling his heart pump against your back, feeling it rattle against you. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and words sweet enough to make tears spring to your eyes. He thrusts inside of you, his arms hooking under your knees and horns grazing and picking up strands of your hair as he presses harsh kisses against his bite mark.

You can feel his seed, hot and heavy, flooding inside of your walls and drenching past your heated core, staining the floor beneath you and splattering onto the table legs. With a quick glance, your eyes are strained and your thin arousal mixes in with his semen, coating at his cock and leaving your cunt in syrupy strands. Your legs are lowered, too strained and weak, your latch onto the desk, your bottom lip trembling as you try to remain steady.

Cotton fills your mind, a drug that is welcomed as the ache in your lower regions start to sharpen and dull. Colors mix and the slightest movement has you closing your mouth tightly, your hands already grasping around his neck and clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t drop me,” you plead in a delicate voice, turning to press your nose against his chest.

His hum is deep in his chest, rumbling softly like a distant storm that lulls you to sleep. His hands are soft, rubbing over the parts where he hits, and shushing you when you let out a high-pitched whine. His lips press against your forehead and his hands are soft. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, humming as he nuzzles his face close to yours. “Are you tired?” You nod. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?”

#obey me #obey me swd #om swd #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #tw: noncon #this was requested of me i think when passion came out #so im so sorry for the wait

[queenshelby]

Roommates – Part Six

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,078

Warning: Smut (Not with Reader)

Note: This plays in 2020.

When you went to your room that night, you were quick to plug your headphones into your ears and listen to some of the podcasts you enjoyed. The last thing you wanted to hear was Cillian having sex with Lindsay.

Lindsay, on the other hand, was quick to lose the entirety of her clothes as soon as she stepped into Cillian’s bedroom after not having been with Cillian for a while due to the restrictions.

She was wearing dark red lace lingerie with a thong, the colour of which was matched by her lipstick.

But the sight of her did nothing to Cillian as he walked inside the bedroom wearing only his briefs.

‘Don’t you like red, Cilly?’ Lindsay chuckled before approaching him and running her smooth hands over his chest and down towards his crotch without any reaction from him.

‘It looks nice’ Cillian barely managed to huff out as he realised that this might be more difficult than he had anticipated.

Of course, he loved being intimate and having sex. Who doesn’t? But, after dealing with raging erections for weeks when seeing you, now that he was in front of this beautiful half naked and willing woman, he wasn’t aroused in the slightest.

In his mind, he had to laugh about the fact that he couldn’t contain himself when being around you and now that he was with the woman he was dating, he lost all interest in sex. It was rather ironic he thought, since, just moments ago, over dinner, he was rock hard simply from watching you play with your tongue piercing in between your teeth.

Unsurprisingly, Lindsay noticed and, after she removed her bra and kissed Cillian passionately while he starred into a void, she dropped onto her knees and pushed down his briefs. She knew that this always did the trick even when he wasn’t in the mood and Cillian firmly believed that her attempt to make him all needy and horny this way would certainly be successful.

Just as anticipated, when Lindsay wrapped her mouth around Cillian’s cock, it began to harden and his hand soon got tangled in her hair and against the back of her head while he closed his eyes, indulging in the pleasure Lindsay was giving him.

Lindsay bobbed her head up and down Cillian’s hardening shaft while her hands moved around him, holding onto his ass cheeks firmly as she continued to suck him.

Finally, he began to pant and groan as she was taking his cock deep into her mouth and running her lips over his length more firmly.

‘That’s it, keep going’ Cillian groaned with his eyes still closed as Lindsay continued to pleasure him. He had finally found his mojo but the problem was that he didn’t think about Lindsay’s mouth on his cock.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he then groaned as his cock bottomed out in the back of Lindsay’s throat and, just as he did, Lindsay pulled away and stood up.

‘Oh my god. Are you fucking serious?’ Lindsay asked outraged, causing Cillian’s eyes to shoot open. ‘You are thinking about her while I suck you. That’s just great’ she then said somewhat upset before sitting down on Cillian’s bed.

‘Fuck, Lindsay, I am sorry. I don’t know what is going on with me at the moment’ Cillian explained, pulling up his briefs.

‘I think you might actually be in love with your housemate’ Lindsay then said, beginning to laugh before pulling her jumper over her head and grabbing her jeans from the dresser.

‘It’s not funny, she’s been my fucking friend for over ten years’ Cillian huffed out, sitting down besides her and apologising to her.

‘It’s fine. I know I was just a distraction even though I wanted to be more’ Lindsay said, knowing about his divorce and relationship with Laura which turned bad rather quickly when Laura became too possessive.

‘It was fun, while it lasted, right?’ Cillian then said with a warm smile, causing Lindsay to chuckle.

‘Yeah’ she huffed out before asking him a pressing question. ‘I am curious though, you didn’t always think about Y/N when we had sex, right?’ Lindsay asked somewhat concerned, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘No, never actually. Not until now’ Cillian reassured her.

‘Well, good luck chuck. I think she was a little jealous tonight so your chances might be pretty good with her’ Lindsay then said before giving Cillian a final kiss and grabbing her things. ‘If you ever get bored of her or she doesn’t want you, you’ve got my number’ Lindsay then said with a wink before leaving Cillian’s bedroom and walking towards the front door.

Cillian saw her out after putting on a t-shirt and apologising to her once again, which she thought wasn’t necessary.

Then, Cillian walked past your room to see whether you were still up. When he saw that your light was on, he decided to knock.

Surpassingly, you heard the knock after the second time and, after removing your earphones, you allowed Cillian to come inside.

‘Aren’t you busy with Lindsay?’ you asked, causing Cillian to shake his head.

‘No, she left’ he said before sitting down next you on the bed.

‘So, it was just a quickie then huh?’ you joked, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘It was nothing at all actually…Well, almost nothing at all’ he responded with some slight embarrassment.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked concerned, thinking that something must have happened between them.

‘I am fine. I just realised that she isn’t for me. I am interested in someone else’ he explained, looking at you with his deep blue eyes.

‘If it is Laura, I am staying the fuck out of it, Cillian’ you huffed out and Cillian shook his head and moved closer towards you.

‘It’s not Laura, it’s…’ he went on to say and, just as he was about to finish his sentence, you both heard a loud bang and the room went dark.

‘Fuck’ you both huffed out at the same time as a lightening strike must have hit the nearby power line and you were left without electricity.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine

[ahockeywrites]

Lights Down Low

This is super self-indulgent whoops. I was listening to this playlist and got an idea.

Warnings: minors dni, explicit fem!reader, smut, consensual possessiveness, use of sex toys, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough smut, unprotected sex, dom!josh, sub!reader, masturbation, orgasm denial swearing Word Count: 3.3k

Being named the first start of the night meant that Josh had more media commitments than usual, so your alone time in the apartment you shared in Montreal was extended. The blue of the 17 Reverse Retro jersey you were wearing complimented the blue thong hidden underneath.

The full-length mirror sitting in the corner of the master bedroom was perfectly placed to take sexy photos in and send to Josh and that’s exactly what you did. The Polaroid camera that you had been gifted from Josh for your last birthday was intended to take photos of the pair of you on your travels but had quickly found a more sexual purpose.

The photos taken in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris and on a Gondola in Venice quickly became ones of you on all fours with Josh's hand pulling at your hair as he pounded himself into you and him walking out of a lake, abs and v-lines on show. You audibly groaned as you thought of previous nights spent under the sheets with Josh and felt the wetness pool between your legs. Josh was sure to notice when he saw you for the first time.

It was easy to take a few photos of you in his jersey, showing the small amount of lace visible underneath it. You made sure to take a few of his name on your back because he loved seeing you with it resting over your shoulder blades. He wasn't usually possessive, but whenever you wore his name or number, it seemed like all he wanted to do was rip all your clothes off and take you right there. Even in public.

Remembering to send a warning text, you didn't need one of the younger players looking over Josh's shoulder and seeing more than he bargained for again, you sent him a photo of the Polaroid images scattered over the freshly made bed. A few spritzes of the perfume you only used for special occasions added to the atmosphere you had created by lighting some candles after taking some time for yourself after Josh's fight.

He was quick to respond to the messages.

J x: you look so good in that jersey. too bad it'll be in pieces on the floor when I'm home x

Josh was always straight to the point after a game like this. You tried to keep yourself together as you connected a playlist of slowed songs to the extensive set of speakers connected through the house. Your hips swayed to the bass of the r&b flowing throughout the room and you grabbed two glasses of wine from the kitchen.

The bedside table drawer was filled with your most commonly used toys. Namely the small bullet vibrator that always went away with you on work trips but Josh always preferred to use the long, slender vibrator when he was with you. He would use it along with his fingers and bring you to climax faster than anyone ever had, even yourself. He knew your body like the back of his hand and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The silver bullet was the way you wanted to start pleasuring yourself before Josh came home and you turned it onto the lowest setting. Before putting it between your legs, you brought it around each of your nipples before teasing yourself by pulling your thong to the side and running it through your folds. Soft moans of pleasure escaped your lips and you began to lightly press it onto your clit. Short, sharp electric, pleasure waves travelled through your body and you were so close to your orgasm, you could almost touch it.

A loud thud of Josh’s black, leather hockey bag alerted you to his arrival home and you quickly dropped the vibrator down to the side but it was too late, he had already noticed that you had started the night before he had arrived home.

"Well isn't this a sight to come home to," Josh said breathlessly. His eyes were filled with passion as he looked up and down your body, taking in every inch. "Stand up for me baby girl, show me what you're wearing."

Your legs felt like jelly as you were still coming down from the almost orgasm but you still followed Josh's instructions and forced yourself off of the bed. A quick twirl showed him everything he needed to see, the way the jersey rode up exposing the lace once more.

"Lay back down for me princess," he said, using his large hands to remove the tie he was wearing. "Play with yourself if you want, you know how hot you look when you do it." Josh could feel himself growing hard at the idea of you touching yourself in front of him.

"With the toy?" you questioned, knowing how quickly you could bring yourself to a high.

"Whatever you want baby girl," he replied, moving to unbutton his shirt.

You flicked the vibrator onto the second-lowest speed and pulled your panties back to the side, immediately pressing the tip to your clit. Unconcious moans came out of your mouth as you twisted and turned under the electricity running under your skin. Your gasps of pleasure filled the room and you were about t-

"Stop. Stop now." Josh demanded. Reluctantly, you pulled the toy away from your most sensitive area. The pulsating force of your clit flowed through your body and all you needed to do was rub a few circles on it and you would be there.

You groaned in complaint but realised that Josh was going to be in control of everything tonight. Even your orgasms.

"Remember your safe word sweat pea?" Josh asked. You quickly nodded. "Say it," he said.

"Cannon," you whispered. A reminder of the time when you lived in Columbus.

You had only used it once before; when your arms were tied above your head and ankles tied to the posts at the end of the bed. You felt comfortable with the blindfold being placed over your eyes but when Josh was about to place the gag into your mouth you shouted the word three times, letting him know that you were uncomfortable. Immediately, Josh removed the blindfold from your face and went to take off the restraints on your extremities. The bathroom contained everything he usually used for aftercare and he went to collect everything he normally would. Gently, he wiped down the red marks on your skin, then moisturised them softly. He brought you into his chest and began to comfort you, never wanting to cross your boundaries.

"Josh," you whispered, looking up at him. His face still looked scared to touch you, thinking that any touch would make you uncomfortable. "I'm okay now, I'm okay now you're holding me."

He held you all throughout the night, pressing soft kisses into your hair as you fell asleep.

"And you'll say it if you need me to stop baby girl?" he asked once more.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy," you spoke, looking up into Josh's eyes.

"Good girl," he moaned, pushing down his dress pants. Josh kicked them to the side, leaving him in just his boxers. All you wanted to do was crawl over and kiss his clothed bulge but you knew that if you even tried moving, you'd be laying over his lap whilst his hand came down on your ass.

The bed dipped as Josh made his way to rest his forearms on either side of your head. His lips were plump and he lowered them to meet yours. One of his hands started patting around, around where you had dropped the vibrator earlier. As soon as he picked up the small toy, he pulled his face away from you but slipped his other hand under the jersey.

"No bra?" he questioned, shaking his head. "Naughty girl. And you know what happens to naughty girls?"

"They get punished, daddy," you replied without hesitation.

"You're right baby girl," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "They get punished. And I have the perfect punishment for you. No cumming until I've cum."

You gasped and Josh found that a perfect time to kiss you deeply once again. His fingers began to trace the outline of one of your nipples, gently squeezing the surrounding flesh. It was a natural response for your back to arch up into his touch, your body begging for more than he was giving.

Rather than moving down your body, Josh shifted his weight so he could caress your other breast in the same way. He could tell that you craved more and reminded you that he always gave you what you needed. "Good girls are patient," Josh lowered his lips to your ear and said that in a deep voice before kissing you there. He spent his time focusing on your chest and collarbones before dragging his pointer finger down your stomach to the waistband of the thong.

Shuffling down the bed, Josh came face to face with your clothed core. He pressed a few soft kisses around your clit before pulling the thin material to the side and kissed around your entrance.

The vibrator that you had almost used to bring yourself to orgasm twice shined under the light of the candles and you noticed Josh place it on the lowest setting before starting to kiss up your thighs, the vibrator following the wet trail he was leaving.

Incorporating your sex toys wasn't something new with Josh, he loved to find out what you just liked and what made your toes curl. He was more than happy to sit between your legs alternating between his mouth, fingers and your favourite vibrator.

"As much as I love these on you," Josh said, motioning towards the lace sitting on your hips. "They have to fucking go." The next thing you heard was the ripping of the fabric and you saw Josh throw the remains of them somewhere in your room.

It took all of Josh's self-restraint not to drive into your pussy and start feasting on it. Instead, he brought one of his fingers through your folds, ghosting your clit. The vibrator was still in his other hand and he began tracing around your folds and you tried to move to catch the tip of the vibrator on your clit.

Josh's muscular arm came down across your hips quickly to stop them from moving. It was with a swift movement of his body that he brought his face right up to your slit, swiping his tongue through the arousal. "Such a sweet little pussy," he groaned, letting the vibrations run to your clit.

He tossed your legs over his shoulders and continued to explore your most sensitive area. Your hips stuttered and Josh could tell that you were very close, so he pulled the toy away before pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit. "Naughty girls don't get to cum, remember?" he said looking up and down your body. "Sit up for me sweetheart."

Still, in a daze, you were unable to move as quickly as Josh wanted so he lightly spanked your pussy to get your attention. "I said, sit up," this time he had an authority about his tone, one that commanded attention. You followed his word and sat up, back flush with the headboard of the bed.

Josh brought his hand to caress your cheek before tracing the outline of your lips that were stained with his favourite deep red shade. Instinctively, you brought his thumb into your mouth and started sucking on it. His head was thrown back in pleasure, imaging that it was something else you had your lips around.

“You ready to be daddy’s good girl?” Josh asked as he ran his large hand over your head. You nodded your head as much as you could with his thumb being shoved in your mouth. "I think you know what to do princess," he said motioning to the large bulge in his boxers.

Josh loved to sit at the end of the bed with you between his thighs so you pushed on his shoulder softly, letting him know exactly where you wanted him to go. Featherlight kisses were pressed against his muscular thighs as he started relaxing into the feeling of your lips on his skin.

Your soft fingers were a delicious contrast to Josh's bruised abs and he revelled in the feeling of the tips of them dancing along the waistband of his boxers. Looking up for his permission before removing his boxers was a must when Josh was in charge. He nodded before running a hand through your hair.

The material barely needed to be moved before his hard length sprung out, lightly slapping his abdomen. You pressed a few gentle kisses to his tip before licking the entire underside of it. Josh wasn't small by any means and he knew it. He never forced you to take more than you could handle.

You brought the tip into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks around it whilst looking up at him. Josh's stare back was piercing but you could see the pleasure in his face as you began to take more of him.

Unless he was thrusting hard into your mouth, Josh's hard length couldn't fully fit into your mouth so you quickly pulled off it, and spread out the saliva that you had already put onto it. One hand rested on his thigh, the other gripped onto his base rotating slightly to increase his enjoyment.

He could tell when he reached the back of your throat, but your gag reflex had become desensitized to having something shoved down your throat after being with Josh for so long. You took a deep inhale through your nose before swallowing around his tip, feeling the whole length twitch.

The hand that rested in your hair was nothing more than a reminder of Josh. He could easily change the situation at the flip of a switch, but he loved watching you work your magic around him.

Pulling off him once more, you licked the vein on the underside again before attempting to take him back into your mouth. Josh grabbed hold of your hair, stopping you before you could. "Lay back up against the headboard princess," Josh moaned, taking in your body once more.

You followed his instructions once more, back against the headboard, legs open for him. In a split second, he was resting himself on top of you, lips pressed to yours.

Josh ran his hard length through your folds. “You want daddy to fuck you, princess? Daddy always takes care of his girl,” he growled into the shell of your ear. All you could do was nod in response.

Your head hit the headboard as he slowly entered you. Josh took his time, slowly stretching you out underneath him. His lips found yours once again and he timed one particularly hard thrust well as moaned his name into his mouth. It was the perfect time for him to slip his tongue into yours and he took control straight away.

He could feel you start to clench around him and once again brought you to almost being able to feel the orgasm before pulling out of you and flipping you onto all fours. "C'mon baby," Josh said, running his hand down the arch of your back before spanking one ass cheek, followed by the other.

His thrusts were relentless, in and out at a pace that felt unknown to man. "Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good around me," Josh moaned pulling you up by your hair to whisper into your ear. "This sweet pussy always feels good for daddy."

"Just for you daddy," you groaned as he hit an extra sensitive spot inside you. "I'm all yours, daddy." Josh hit the same spot once again and you collapsed underneath him, almost running out of energy to hold yourself up.

"C'mon baby girl," Josh said, slightly manhandling you from underneath him to both his hands resting on your hips. "Gonna ride daddy like the good girl you are, eh?" His large, calloused hand threaded his way through your hair and he pulled on it to force you to nod in response to his question. You loved to be on top, even when you were tired because you were in control, for at least some of the time, and you could see Josh's face perfectly and do exactly what you knew he loved.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his throbbing length, moaning loudly and throwing your head back as he filled you up. Josh allowed you to take control for the first few moments before placing one of his hands around your throat and the other on the top of your head. This was nothing new, but when he started thrusting up into you, brushing your g-spot every time, you felt something completely different. It was new but familiar at the same time.

Words were barely coming to you as he kept pounding up into you but through short gasps, you announced to Josh that you were very close to release. One of your hands snaked to your clit but the hand, which was resting on your head, slapped it away. "You wait for me baby," Josh moaned. You looked down at him to see sweat covering his brow and you reached down to press your lips to his. Josh forced his tongue into your mouth and controlled the deep kiss.

You felt him start to twitch inside you but he continued to thrust up into you with force. All of his training may have been for hockey but it came with additional benefits. Josh could easily throw you around the bedroom and it was something that you absolutely loved. He always made sure that you were okay with it but he knew that you enjoyed it more than you told him.

His hips stuttered and he pulled you off of him before releasing hot ropes of cum onto your bare chest. You knew it wouldn't take much to get there and simply sitting on Josh's bare, muscular thigh did it for you. A few back and forth movements allowed you to elongate the pleasure as you moaned your boyfriend's name. It seemed to go on forever, and you thought that you would never feel something this intense again.

A groan escaped Josh's lips as he saw you basking in the post-orgasm glow. He took one of his hands and spread his sweet release over your breasts and the blatant declaration of possessiveness was almost enough to send your overstimulated self over the edge once more.

"That's it, baby," Josh whispered, hand on your hips to help you move, "use me." He watched as you threw your head back in pleasure, repeating his name as if it was a spell.

Sitting was too much for you and you collapsed off his thigh into the plush mattress. Josh sat up on his arms and pulled a few strands of hair out of the way of your eyes. "Maybe I should fight more often," he contemplated. You could barely muster enough energy to shake your head so all he got in response was a groan.

The mattress raised slightly as Josh made his way to the ensuite to collect a washcloth and a drink for each of you. Gently, he wiped between your legs, trying to reduce the marks that his beard had made and also the cum from your chest. More often on nights like this, both of you were too tired to go for a proper shower so a quick clean up like this was common. Josh also liked to go for a softer round in bed sometimes too and even thinking about it made you lean into his touch as he brought you into his arms.

"Get some rest baby girl," he said softly. "I know you need it."

#ahockeywrites #josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #josh anderson fic #josh anderson smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl story #nhl smut #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #montreal canadiens imagine #habs imagine

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x you #IDK WHAT I AM DOING LOL #YOLO

[forever-rogue]

hey, you're incredible and amazing and I hope you're taking care of yourself 🥺💖 if you are still taking request, can you write something for Frankie o Marcus Pike? from promt list 1, number 1 "a wedding?" and number 65 "hold my hand dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!"

love you 💖

I went with Frankie and I hope you enjoy 💕🥺

Frankie x Fem!Reader ; warnings: slight language

Frankie Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You almost bowled Frankie over as you threw open the door and welcomed yourself into his house. You had knocked and at the loud pounding he had almost dropped what he was doing in order to come and answer. Instead of waiting, you'd used your spare key to his house and let yourself in.

"Oh, hello there," he said as he closed the door behind you with an amused grin on his face. As soon as he saw the distressed look on your face, his own faltered, "what's wrong, Bee?"

"Everything, Francisco!" you groaned as you opened the fridge to grab out a beer. You made quick work of opening it and taking a large swig before sitting down at the counter, "I have once again single handedly fucked myself over!"

"You want to elaborate a little more on that?" he asked as he helped himself to a drink and joined you. He'd been busy preparing everything for your weekly movie night, hadn't been expecting you for a little while - not that he ever minded you being around. Sighing heavily, you rested your head on his shoulder, "what could possibly be so bad?"

"You remember my ex - Brad?" Frankie immediately groaned - for reasons both the same and different to yours. You nodded in acknowledgment.

"Ew, Brad."

"Yup," you laid your head on the table before letting out a long sigh, "well Brad is getting married. And guess who is invited? Me - and my boyfriend."

"You don't...have a boyfriend," he reminded you as you just threw up your hands in exasperation, “so…”

“I know, I know, I know,” you groaned as you took another drink, “it just came out - here he is all fancy and getting married and I’m just...not. I didn’t want to look like a total idiot and be all oh yes, of course I’m still single but would love to come to your wedding alone. So...apparently I have a boyfriend. I need to find a fake boyfriend or find a damn good excuse for why my boyfriend couldn’t make it at the last minute.”

“Shit,” Frankie couldn’t help but laugh at your little dilemma as you groaned at yourself. You just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut it appeared. When had it ever done you any good? Never. You should have learned by now. A few beats of silence fell over the two of you before he suddenly made a small sound, “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” you raised your eyebrows as your heart started to beat wildly in your chest. Sure, you might have been in love with your best friend and have been for some time, but you’d never ask him to do such a thing. You’d purposely pushed that thought to the back of your mind as quickly as it had bubbled up. It would make things infinitely more complicated - and what if something happened and you slipped up and confessed your love for him? That was a situation you’d rather avoid all together if possible. 

“Come with you,” he grinned, clearly proud of his brilliant idea. He wondered if you could hear the loud pounding of his own heart; as soon as you’d mentioned the idea of a fake boyfriend he’d grown excited. Was this his opportunity to finally come clean and tell all the ways in which he loved you? Maybe, maybe not. But if he didn’t try, he’d never know, “I’ll be your boyfriend - fake boyfriend.”

“Oh Frankie,” you couldn’t help but smile at the sweet look on his face. Gods, how could anyone not fall in love with him? But reason quickly took over you and you weakly shook your head, “no, it’s okay. I couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”

“I want to,” he insisted with a soft ruffle to your hair before he could stop himself, “come on - what are best friends for, Bee? Besides its just a wedding...”

“I don’t know...I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to..”

“I want to,” he promised softly, “come on, it’ll be fine - you might even have fun! Besides - I want to see you break out some more of those amazing dance moves!”

“Frankie…”

“What could go wrong, Honey Bee? It’s the perfect solution!

I could fall harder in love with you. I could confess my love to you. I could make a huge fool out of myself. I might never get over you. 

“Okay,” you agreed before you could stop yourself. The excited look on his face was enough to make you melt as he just grinned from ear to ear, “let’s do it.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Wow,” Frankie’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw you, his megawatt grin enough to make you melt. He held his hand out to you, ever the gentleman, which you took as he pulled you in for a hug. You’d agreed to meet at the venue, and go from there; it probably would have looked more convincing if you’d arrived together, but you weren’t sure if you could handle anything more than what was needed. As soon as you spotted him, your heart started doing flips in your stomach, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

“What about you, handsome?” you ran a hand through his dark locks, unsure if you were doing it out of your own volition or you were playing the part of doting girlfriend, “you clean up pretty well yourself.”

“Thanks,” he whispered softly as a tinge of pink flushed up into his cheeks. He politely greeted a few passersby. You repeated the action, remembering a few faces from when you had dated Brad a few years earlier, “hold my hand Bee - we have to make this look convincing!”

Something came over you and you were quite sure what possessed you, but you took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together, before leaning over and offering him a kiss. He hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, unsure of how to respond, but then offered a simple, saccharine little kiss. 

And it was electric - sending shivers down your spine as your whole body warmed up. People always spoke about seeing those proverbial sparks when they kissed the one. And this...this had to be it. 

Opening your eyes, you found Frankie looking back at you in awe and momentarily wondered if he had felt the same thing. A gentle expression softened his features as he looked at you in wonder. Maybe...maybe you’d both felt it...but no. Surely not. You wouldn’t flatter yourself with the idea that Francisco Morales fancied you like you did him.

“Gotta act the part, right?” you teased nervously as you started pulling himself in the venue, “come on, boyfriend!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The rest of the ceremony was spent in comfortable silence as the two of you sat close to each other, but still leaving a small distance between your bodies. It was almost like the two of you could feel that something had shifted, even with the smallest of kisses. You were hyper-aware of his closeness to you the entire time, feeling his body heat radiate onto you, your entire being humming with excited, yet nervous energy. Little did you know that Frankie was feeling the exact same thing, all the while trying to figure out how to finally (finally!) tell you about his true feelings. 

His hand was resting on the wood of the aging bench, next to yours, but not touching. Both of you consciously, or subconsciously, kept inching your hands closer and closer until eventually they were touching. Frankie seemed to overcome his nerves and put his hand on top of yours before gently squeezing it as a sign of ressaurance, before lacing your fingers together. The smell gesture was enough to kickstart your heart and you were unable, or unwilling, to keep the smile off of your face. 

What was suddenly happening?

»»————-　♡　————-««

After the ceremony, a beautiful affair - even you had to admit - the two of you went to the reception, still buzzing happily, but unable to quite form the right words. Whatever was happening, it was coming fast, and honestly...it had been a long time coming for the both of you. Neither of you tried to fight it anymore, deciding to let whatever happened, happen. 

“Listen, Bee,” after you’d gotten to the reception and the bride and groom had cut the cake and had their first dance, Frankie finally gathered up the courage to speak. He reached for your hand and held it tightly, “there’s something I need to tell you -"

“Hey! You made it!” Brad wore a beaming grin he came over and still managed to steal Frankie's thunder; he tried not to let his expression falter too much, "you look great!"

"Wouldn't miss it," you said - only a small lie - before reaching down and grabbing Frankie's hand. Despite your initial hesitations, you were glad you came, and honestly happy for him, "and two make a lovely couple. I'm so happy for you both - really. You deserve it."

"As do the two of you," he grinned, grabbing Frankie's shoulder and giving it a squeeze, "the two of you! Can't say I'm surprised though...always thought the two of you had a little something going on. How long has it been official?"

"Oh umm…" you gave Frankie a look of surprise as you tried to think on your feet. He looked just as thrown off as you did, "a-a couple of years. We've been together for a...bit."

"Time to make an honest woman out of her, Morales!" Frankie's expression paled as your eyes widened in surprise. But he was quick on his feet and chuckled lightly, "I'm happy for you guys too. Who would have thought? I guess most of us did...anyway! Thank you both for coming and have fun - open bar!"

"Thanks," you both managed to weakly say as the groom bounced away to greet other guests. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turned to Frankie and offered him a meager smile.

"Yeah...so I guess the whole fake boyfriend thing worked!" you cheered lightly, trying to keep the situation from turning any more awkward than it was, "we could...probably just leave honestly. Maybe grab a pizza and drinks and watch a movie?"

"Do you want to dance?" he completely changed course with his question, his voice nervous and almost cracking in anticipation. You paused for a moment before deciding that yes...you really, really wanted to slow dance with Frankie.

"I'd love you to," you whispered gently as he took your hand and led you to the lightly illuminated dance floor. 

And it was so easy - so effortless. His arms wrapped around you and yours around him as you melted into his body. He was so soft and warm and smelled heavenly; why hadn't you ever done this before? It felt so...right. As you swayed to the music, everything seemed frozen in time and nothing mattered but this moment - him. This was where you were supposed to be the entire time. Home was in his arms, home was Frankie. 

After what seemed like a small eternity, you pulled back and looked at him, his eyes searching yours as well. He stopped and his hands found your face as he gently traced over your features, a smile gracing his own. You put your hands on his wrists, trying to control your breathing as you stared at each other, lost in your little world.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned up and kissed him. And this time it wasn't some quick or rushed brush of lips - no this was slow and meaningful, every feeling and emotion poured it. It just felt so perfect, so right, like the two of you had been doing this for ages and ages, not the first time. You wished it would never end, that you could spend an eternity wrapped up in his arms.

"I am so in love with you," he whispered against your lips when you finally pulled apart for a breath of air, "and I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for years."

"I...I love you, Frankie," you grinned at him, "its always been you...I just never knew how to say it. I was scared...nervous."

"Sweet Honey Bee," he stole another kiss, this one sweet and saccharine, "how could it be anyone but you?"

"Frankie…" his name was a soft, reverent whisper as you melted into his touch, "I don't even know what to say…"

"I'm hoping you'll say yes to getting out of here and getting a pizza and some beers and relaxing back at mine? Just like usual," he suggested as you nodded eagerly, "there's one more thing."

"Anything."

"I want to kiss you," he grinned, "like a lot more. I feel like an idiot for not doing that sooner.

"That's a guarantee, love," you promised him, "kisses and a lot more than that."

"God, you're amazing," he grinned as you started to pull him away and to the exit, "I wish I would have told you years ago."

"We were both fools," you admitted, "but think of all the time we have to make up for! And besides - you're always worth waiting for, Francisco!"

He was awestruck as he just stared at you before running after you and scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you grinned at him like a lovestruck fool - which, you supposed, you were.

"I love you, Honey Bee."

"I love you, Francisco."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#Frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #forever-rogue's follower celebration #triple frontier #will my Frankie ever not call his love honey bee? no 😌

[byuntrash101]

Cry me a Fucking River

Pairing: Baekhyun x You

Genre: angst 💀(i tried), smut 🖤

Tags: plot, back story, psychological and physical violence, Ex!AU, AbusiveRelationship!AU, “make up” sex, crying, alcohol, breeding kink (i guess?), VERY angsty, bitter sweet ending. Don't read if you are triggered by these topics

Raiting: 18+

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says “I love you”.

A/N: It’s sooo difficult for me to write angst. I really tried hard 🥲... But IM really inspired me with the song. Even the tittle comes from IM's neck tattoo in the MV... I’ve been working on this one shot ever since it came out (aka a long time ago) please tell me if i did justice to this beautiful song ^^

General Masterlist

Inspired by IM Changkyun’s “God damn”

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 '𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭, 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓱

𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷' 𝔂𝓸𝓾

𝓖𝓲𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓸𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓲𝓽, 𝓘 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽

𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓖𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾,

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓴

                                                 Received 4m ago

                                               Baekhyun: I miss u...

                                                                    ✓ Read

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯...

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶...

𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯

You sigh staring at the ceiling of your room. Your roommates are down stairs playing an alcohol game but you sit here alone. You don’t feel like having fun tonight… You don’t feel like anything at all actually.

You lift your phone up and stare at the name on the screen. Baekhyun… Baekhyun is your ex boyfriend. You have been separated for a year now. After 3 years of the most toxic and damaging relationship you ever had you finally broke up. 

You told everybody he was bad for you.

You told your friends how possessive he was, how would go through your phone, or force you to use the speakerphone every time you have a call. Or how controlling he was when he didn’t want you to wear make up or even earrings…

And you’re not lying, all of it was true, down to the littlest detail and that’s what you told yourself too. But the truth was that you were hiding half of the story. Because no matter how much you tried to persuade yourself… you were just as bad to him.

You kept quiet on the silent treatments, spending days even weeks ignoring him, just for the sake of hurting him.

You kept quiet on the numerous ways you were always blaming him for all the problems you ever had. You never took the time to listen to him, you just always assumed it was his fault for everything. If you guys fought so much it was his fault, if he was sad, it was his fault. No matter how many hurtful words you spat his way it was his fault for being weak and not being able to bear the truth.

You kept silent on the way you always tried to make him jealous by letting other guys go after you or by simply letting people believe that you were available.

Always manipulating him in feeling sorry for himself, the exact same way he did it to you.

Like a game

Turn by turn

You were making your lives a living hell

Just like a game

 But they were moments of peace, or if you dare to call it that way, love. Yes, in some moments you truly loved each other. In a way, only the both of you can understand.

No one could possibly get how good you felt when you were finally calming down after the storm. How his eyes would clear up. How your heart would beat for him when his lips pink pouty lips curled into an adorable boxy smile. When you laid your head on his chest and that you knew he was yours, yours only. How you knew that heart beating against your ear was beating for you. How you knew the soft warm breath fanning your cheeks was just for you. When you both apologized and made the ever empty promise of never hurting each other again. He looked at you with the most sincere eyes and he said that he loved you…

This…

This feeling… no one could understand, no one but you two.

In your own unique and fucked up way… you loved each other.

But it had to be stopped right? If it went on you would have ended up killing each other… When you love and hate someone so much at the same time it’s the only way out…

And so you broke with him for good when after another fight you… You have absolutely no trouble recalling the taste of blood in your mouth, the pain in your scratched out throat, the screams of your ex-boyfriend, the sinking void in your chest…

You remember everything, every single detail.

How his voice shattered your eardrums, the noise of your nose breaking, the blood gushing out his brow bone, dripping in his eye.

That night was the last one.

 You can’t help but to think about that when you look at the message on your phone. It’s been a year, the memories of the damage you’ve done and the pain you endured is still fresh… But so is this feeling of warm happiness bubbling in your stomach… and so is this feeling you want to call love…

***

“Hey” Baekhyun simply says when he opens the front door of his apartment. He invites you in and you try to avoid his eyes.

“The living room is right there he points to the end of the hall” you nod, eyes still on the floor as you walk to the designated room. You sit yourself on the couch and Baekhyun sits right in front of you in a single seat. The only light source is a desk lamp set on the end table to your right. The room is small but cosy it has the familiar smell of cold cigarette that you came to love.

“The apartment is nice” you finally say after a long moment of silence. Baekhyun chuckles.

“Yeah… it’s kinda nice living on my own now… You know without the roommate” You are still looking around the room even though you already looked at the details of the curtains 3 times. “The only downside is that you can’t blame someone else for the dishes piling up in the sink” He laughs, with that clear, open mouth laugh that you used to know. A sound you thought you would never hear again. You don’t know why but that makes you look at him.

The second you lay eyes on him your heart sinks. His dark brown eyes forming little crescents, his pouty lips curled up in an amused smile, his moles sitting on the side of his face. After that long , you would have thought that you had forgotten such details about him but you didn’t.

His smile faded when he noticed how long you stared. You locked eyes with him and somehow it felt different… Somehow you felt like you were going to be alright… Somehow you felt at home…

“You want something to drink?” he asked, blinking twice and shaking his head, breaking the intense eye contact.

“Yeah… Vodka please” you quietly answered smiling back.

At once he disappeared into the kitchen. The room was completely silent and you were able to hear your heart. It was beating hard but not fast. You didn’t feel nervous at all for some reason.

When Baekhyun came back with two glasses of the clear liquid and a beaming smile he sat next to you on the couch. Because frankly, it was what felt the most natural. His thighs pressed against yours.

You brought your glass to your lips to have a sip.

You thought that it would have been awkward that you wouldn’t know what to say but… The truth was that you didn’t need to say anything. You already spent hours speaking already. It was like you already said all the words in the world. And no words could ever make it right anyway. What was done was done and reality can’t be sugar coated anymore.

“Listen, y/n I-“

“No” you lifted your hand. “Don’t”

You didn’t want to hear them again. You knew them by heart the fake excuses and the empty promises. You didn’t come for that. You came to remember what was good.

You leaned in and closed your eyes and Baekhyun did too. When your lips link, sparks of electricity shoot between you, shivers run down your spine, making the hairs on your nape stand. Just a simple peck before he parted from you. Immediately your lips missed the warmth of his.

Baekhyun brought his hand to press your thigh. His cold slender fingers caressing your skin though your distressed jeans. You’re startled when you feel a warm tear roll down on your cheek. You repress a sob when you finally understand what it is… Then you notice a scar above his eyebrow and flashes of the last fight come rushing to you… You made that, you made that scar, along with the many invisible one that slowly turned him into the broken person he is. The overwhelming weight of guilt comes to crush you down.

But before you can open your mouth to say anything he crashes his trembling lips on yours. Trying so hard not to cry too. But the truth is that he missed you just as much.

His cold hands slip under your hoodie and roam your heated skin while yours unbutton his shirt. You can’t believe the same hands that are right now so delicately caressing your skin are the same that were lifted hit you so many times.

You can’t believe the soft lips kissing you so sweetly are the same ones that parted to insult you so many times.

You press your eyes closed shut, trying to chase away the memories of blood gushing out and shattered screams. You let your fingers entangle in his shiny silver hair. While he unbuckles you belt and pulls down your pants. Right after you help him out of his own clothes.

You lay down on the couch and he lays right over you, gently kissing your neck as you gasp at each one.

When he pulls away to look at you, his eyes translate a thousand emotions. Guilt, sadness, remorse and maybe, just maybe, even love. Or maybe you only want to see that in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?” he says his own eyes brimming with tears.

“Yeah” you breathe out.

Yes you want to forget about the bad things, about the pain and hatred, about the screams and the blood. You want to escape the truth one last time. You want to tell yourself that underneath all of this was true love. And you want to believe it’s still there even though it’s untrue. Even though you’re lying again…

Just then, like he senses your need to turn your face away from the truth, your need for fiction he crashes his lips onto yours, pulling you into a rough and harsh kiss. His teeth grazing over your lips. 

His length plunges inside your sopping center and his warmth pulls a small gasp from your lips. Finally reunited at last. 

He seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Both of your body match up a coordinated and pleasurable rythme. His rough and hungry hands convey how much he missed you and even after all this time, he still knows you by heart… Of course he does… and you do too because the truth is that… You and him… You could never forget each other. Forever damned to be together, forever cursed to be apart.

The pleasant and familiar feeling of his hands, his lips and his manhood kissing your deepest part ignites a fire inside you. You pull both of your bodies up. You make him sit up and you straddle his lap.

But the truth is just right here, whispering in your ear…

 “You’re just fucking whore” his distant voice yells form the back of your head

You want to forget

Your hands roughly pull on his hair as he thrusts up inside you, making you moan his name in a shaky whisper. He whimpers into the deep and messy kiss. Your hands run on his warm skin, desperate to find under your finger the soft sensation you used to know.

 The sound of shattered glass on the floor

You want to forget

Your hips swivel around on him. You push your center against his hard cock, making him moan against the skin of your neck. Both if your warm bodies pressed together are reminded of each other.

 Soft sobs, lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom

You want to forget

He nibbles on your collar bones while you throw your head back giving him unrestricted access to you. His swift hands contour you and harshly grip your waist to pull you up and push you down on him, walls clenching around him while you feel him twitch in pleasure. Baekhyun dives in on your chest, taking one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth.

 The smudge makeup, the cold nights, the reek of alcohol, the screams, the sound of his hands leaving blue marks on your face, the horrors you said, the horrors he did… everything… everything…

You want to forget everything

 “Aaaah… Baekhyun” you whisper, trying to cover the overwhelming rumor of your own memories.

“Fuck y/n” He breaths against your skin while you lower your hips on him.

It feels so good. He feels so good. You close your eyes, making sure to enjoy the moment while for a brief instant you didn’t feel miserable.

“Fuck Baekhyun… Aaaah'' you moan again, feeling your core throb around Baekhyun’s length while his comforting grunts fill the air between you. 

“That's it baby” he purrs in your ears, hands roaming your body and lightly teasing your hard nipples. “Moan my name”

“Baekhyunnn” you cry out, feeling your release coming dangerously close as you rock your hips on him. 

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he moans “You’re gonna make me cum” He says pushing his hip up fucking you back while you both sync up, fucking each other and at a beatiful matching pace.

“Say you love me” you plead, desperately wanting to believe him.

“I love you. I love you y/n” his hoarse voice whistles in your ear.

“I love you too” 

“Let's make that kid. Let's have that child we always dreamed about” he moans, nails digging into your bare thighs

“Okay” you whisper in a short breath, giving up, desperately wanting to believe this child will save the both of you.

“Take my cum baby.” His breath is short, struggling on every word. “Get pregnant... aghh” he grunts as he finally cums.

You feel him let go, huge amounts of thick cum rush inside of you, filling you up to the brink, reaching the deepest part of you, where life can possibly sprout.

You throw your head back, toes curled up and eyes rolled back as you bite hard on your bottom lip, fully enjoying the delicious full sensation spreading to your body as your heat uncontrollable twitches in a powerful orgasm. 

You moan out his name like a prayer, like a religious mantra. A final vain attempt to make you both right for each other at last.

He crashes his lips onto your, trying to chase away your doubts while you throb around his cock.

“Cum for me baby” he whispers as you slowly ride your high, drunk on the unbearable pleasure he pumped inside you.

Once you both get down he looks at you eyes filled with something you can’t quite describe, something you’ve never seen before… Maybe hope.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too”

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the tears rolling on your cheeks. 

Even if it has to end in despair and sorrow, if it’s with him then you are willing to give it a pointless try once again. Because even if it’s a lie you love the way he looks at you when he says these three simple words.

General Masterlist 

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @nana-banana @mingiandbaconjam @chanyeolscoon (if you don't like angst i'm sorry for tagging you 😭)

A/N: There we go! Please tell me if I honored IM’s amazing song. I listened to it around 5000 times. So guys... can I write angst or not? I don't really know if I like it 🤔

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #byun baekhyun #exo smut #baekhyun ff #baekhyun one shot #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #kpop smut #smut #angst #exo angst #angst with bitter sweet ending

[burnedbyshoto]

I really hate you

— Shinsou knows he shouldn’t trust villains. Especially villains who make his mind spin and stomach twist in joy. But there’s something about you that keeps him coming back for more.

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pairing: pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x villain fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, a little bit of juicy plot, pro hero!au, reader is a villain, betrayal, biting, marking, collaring, cursing, hate sex, rooftop sex, body liquids, angst

word count: 8,180

a/n: i like deception :) being a chem TA is pretty fun, except when im in lab for 8 am until 4 pm. listen,,, I also really liked this prompt I made last night because the one I had before wasn’t spicy enough for me anymore. I hope you enjoy though! like comment and share for the algorithm (jk been watching too many tikytokys)

kinktober day 8 main kink: collaring

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When the sun sets, and the moon is high in the sky, and the chill of the bitter cold winds raise ceaseless goosebumps on your arms, and the only people who are up are drunken businessmen and tiresome students, it is a common belief that this is when the freaks come out.

The freaks come out to play at night.

You are one of these freaks.

Heh.

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Shinsou nodded at his friends as he walked through the doors of the agency he worked at. Despite the power of his quirks ability, he was an underground hero (unless the ultra-rare occasion where they needed his quirk in the limelight); he was stationed within a large, well-known agency and was one of the founding heroes there at that. His ability to be hidden from the bright lights of the world were both easy and challenging; most of the world knew him as the kid from UA’s Sports Festival that went toe to toe with nearing number one Pro-Hero Deku. It both irked and embarrassed him when that event was brought up; on the one hand, it was true! He had nearly beat Midoriya during that final stage. Yet, on the other hand, their memories seemed to recall some crazy quirk-fueled fistfight where Midoriya had broken his entire body in the duration of their fight. 

‘No,’ he often found himself responding back to the gentlemen and ladies who would awe at his school-day adventures, ‘there was a fistfight, but Midoriya handled it without using his quirk except to snap him out of my quirk.’

They always looked embarrassingly horrified by their faulty memory when they pulled the clip up on Youtube, their bows quick in apology before they made off. 

But people recognizing him from that was rare as it gets, fortunately even with the large agency stapled to his alias, he was quite good at his job—a shadow in the night, an urgent whisper to the villain freaks who roamed the night.

“Ah, Shinsou-chan!” Kaminari pouted, his body draping over his purple-haired friend as Shinsou moved to change from his regular clothes into the black triple-weave kevlar of his hero suit. He had once sported a black cotton-like costume akin to Aizawa, but after many, many gun shootings and stabbing incidents, he figured he needed something sturdier. 

“What is it?” he asked, rising up from his bent position so that Kaminari couldn’t take advantage of his slouched form. 

Shinsou’s tired, purple eyes met the exhausted pair of Kaminari.

“Today was so hard,” Kaminari sighed, his lip still put into the stupid pout, and he slumped onto the bench behind Shinsou. His feet were spread before him, fingers drumming onto his directional equipment. “Since it’s winter, the night comes sooo much earlier now. I swear some weirdos really appear out of the woodworks when the night comes! Like just before I was going to make my way back here, I swear I saw Aizawa-sensei hanging out on the rooftops like some super-secret ninja, right?”

Shinsou frowned. He knew his mentor turned friend was actually on vacation at the moment in Hawaii. Something he thought, at the very least, was long overdue. 

“Aizawa is in Hawaii right now,” Shinsou quickly spoke, his hands buckling the belt on his pants, before moving to lace up his boots. 

“Oh fuck, I told Todoroki he was in Seoul,” Kaminari cursed, the palm of his hand hitting his forehead. 

“Good going, who knows what weird message or gift he’ll end up sending to Aizawa now,” Shinsou couldn’t help the small smirk from spreading on his face at that note.

After being accepted into the Hero Course over in UA, Shinsou couldn’t help but be initially disappointed when he was placed within Class 1-B — Class 2-B at that point — simply because his mentor was with Class 1-A. The initial disappointment didn’t last very long when he got to know the rest of Class 2-B better, and he saw that while 2-A possessed raw talent, 2-B were more well-defined with a much bigger take-no-shit mentality that he appreciated more. That and 2-A were being strangled by a new villain of the month far too often, and Shinsou just wanted nothing more than to graduate from high school. 

Still, his lack of enrollment in Class 2-A didn’t mean that he didn’t see the rambunctious, nearly intolerable group of twenty in class 2-A. As a matter of fact, he thought he saw them a bit more than he’d like. Aizawa was his mentor, so he understood seeing him around, but for some reason, 2-A was never too far away. As soon as Shinsou was admitted into the Hero Course and the two hero classes had weekly meals together, which meant that to him, just the slightest bit, 2-A felt like an unwanted, annoying, ugly stepchild.

So no, Shinsou could not tell you 2-A’s inside class jokes, but he knew a lot more about the forty other hero students than he’d ever like to admit. 

And through his knowledge, he knew that the ever so powerful Todoroki Shouto was an idiot, probably a bigger one than Kaminari.

“I hate that you call Aizawa-sensei just…” Kaminari trailed off, a disgusted shiver running down his spine as if it sickened him to remove the single formality.

“Aizawa,” Shinsou said once more.

“Stop.”

“Aizawa.”

“Hitoshi!”

“Aizawa.”

“PLEASE!”

“Shouta.”

Kaminari hit the floor, his chest heaving with fake, bitter sobs while Shinsou couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of his over-dramatic friend on the ground. He had to admit, Shouta felt weird on his tongue too.

“Stop making a huge deal about how Aizawa and I are closer than you are,” Shinsou half-joked half-told-the-truth.

He was more than well aware of his mentor’s former students trying to become even closer to their beloved homeroom teacher. All doing it in their own ways, all relatively unsuccessful because unknown to them (but not Shinsou), Aizawa already loved them all thoroughly, not that he’ll ever tell them.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO SHAVE OFF MITTENS FUR!”

Oh yeah, that had lost a lot of love points for Kaminari.

Sighing softly, Shinsou placed his newly replaced coiled capturing weapon around his shoulders, and his artificial vocal cords mask onto his chest until he was off on patrol.

“Why’d you think you saw Aizawa?” he asked again, trying to finish the conversation so that he could leave. It felt like it was going to be a long night if Kaminari confirmed where his thoughts were already trailing. 

“Hm?” Kaminari finally looked up from his puddle of tears on the floor, tears streaking all over his face, small charges of electricity humming off it. He blinked once, twice, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as if the answer was there before his fist came down to hit his open palm in a flash of realization. “Oh, I remember! There was this person, obviously not Aizawa-sensei, standing by the edge of a building watching everyone below. Hair whipping in the wind and his capturing weapon fluttering around them!”

Just as Shinsou thought.

“Where did you see her?”

“Her?!”

“Where, Kaminari?”

“Uh… well, I guess by Gramps convenience store. Don’t tell me this is some super sexy megafan of yours! Wait… do tell me, or… no, I’ll get jealous if you’re having rooftop sex with — eh?! where are you going?! Hitoshi?!”

“My shift started two minutes ago,” Shinsou explained, one of his hands lifting in a wave as he exited the locker room, his heart hammering quickly, knowing just who he was going to need to track down tonight.

…

..

.

It was dark.

Shinsou’s eyes squinting as he hopped from one rooftop onto the other, his capturing device assisting him in clearing the dooming crevice. He wasn’t exactly the most physically threatening, and unfortunately, that also meant he wasn’t exactly the greatest at parkour type movements, although he was getting better. Maybe had he started to ask for earlier shifts, where he would be out when the sun was, he could get better faster.

It was tricky with only the moonlight to guide him, but that’s what he could get at the moment.

As he scuffled through the gravel rooftop of one of the abandoned buildings, Shinsou found himself squinting at the figure in the distance. The one perched near what Kaminari oh so fondly refers to as Gramps convenience store.

He studied the form of the picture still person, noticing if it wasn’t for the slight wind through your hair and twisting capturing weapon around your neck, he would think you’re a statue. But he knows better now, he’s known better for quite some time now. 

“What’re you doing out here, y/l/n?” Shinsou found himself speaking the moment he stepped behind you, hands shoving into his pant pockets.

You didn’t move, nor did you respond, your body still completely still while peering down at the empty world fascinated on who knows what.

“Y/l—”

“How can I help ya, Mindjack-senpai?” you interrupted him, your gaze still not removed from the world below the building. “I hear it’s supposed to be a busy night tonight.”

Shinsou paused, his brows scrunching at your words.

It was plain to see to Heroes that you were a villain, you did what you wanted when you wanted, whatever the price, but if there was one thing Shinsou had learned with this rather weird cat and mouse game the two of you played time and time again was that you didn’t lie. 

What was happening?

“A busy night?” Shinsou questioned, his quirk still unactivated, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to Brainwash an answer out of you anyways. “Where at?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Hero?” you teased slowly, and Shinsou had to deny the way that the way your head finally turned to lock eyes with his made his stomach clench.

It meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

“You know what happens when you slight me,” Shinsou couldn’t help but warn, the bandages on his neck rising under his command. But your eyes blinked slowly, lips spreading into a lazy, cunning smile.

“And you know what happens when you underestimate me,” you returned, fingers gliding against his old weapon — yes, old weapon. Just two months ago, just before your last arrest, you had viciously stolen it from him, your foot crushing his vocal cords while you managed to pry the weapon from his broken fingers. “Anyways, Mindjack-senpai, it’s a bit unethical of you, a hero, to be threatening me in such a way! I’m just a poor girl waiting for the love of my life to show up.”

“And have they?”

You blink, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you nod, “I got him right where I want him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Shinsou snapped despite the lick of warmth against his chest and cheeks. “I’ll have you arrested again.”

Now, this has you turning from the edge of the building, you sit on the ledge of the building, fingers supporting your head as you stare at him without fear. Shinsou really fucking hated how fast you riled him up.

“Arrested? But Mr. Mindjack-senpai, didn’t you know?” you ask, the taunt evident in your voice, the twinkle in your eye devastatingly bright. “I’m a changed woman. I’m what you call a hero now. You wouldn’t arrest an innocent heroine, could you?”

“You’re hardly innocent,” Shinsou responded back smoothly and deftly, not at all yet entirely impressed by you. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

He blamed his deep impressions of you on the stupid black and purple attire you wore.

“Well, you know as well as I do that I just got out, but I feel like except what happened two days ago, I’ve really changed,” you emptily promise, pushing off the ledge, sauntering closer to Shinsou until he felt the tip of your nose brush against his. “I’ll make sure to think about you whenever… bad feelings come up.”

He prays you don’t see the scarlet flush on his face.

You’re already back at the ledge when he blinks, and he watches you raise two fingers to your temple in a mock salute as you wink at him.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but two blocks east, seven blocks south from the heart of Tokyo is where you’ll find trouble,” you inform him, dropping the salute as you turn to run.

But Shinsou wants his damn weapon back.

“Y/l/n, wait!”

“Yes—?”

You froze at the ledge, your eyes spacing out, and Shinsou sighed, moving to collect his weapon from you until you suddenly dove off the building, a burst of cheerful laughter on your tongue.

“Oh, I forgot to tell ya!” you screamed from the next building over, your fingers threading through the alloy metal cloths. “I got some earbuds just for when you’re around! They make your voice into electrical signals just for me! So guess what?!”

Shinsou didn’t need you to complete that sentence in order for him to realize what you had just gotten your hands onto.

As long as you wore those, his quirk was useless against you.

Despite knowing that a villain held the key to his demise as a hero, he chuckled, running a hand through his short purple hair.

You really were something.

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Shinsou never took himself as an especially suspicious person.

He figured he had days where he was suspicious of some people the correct amount, especially when they had the most painted on emotions he’s ever seen. Some days he was overly trusting and blamed tight smiles on something acute to nerves. Without meaning to brag, he felt like he was healthily suspicious of people, unlike others he knew who wouldn’t dare to interact with anyone new or would spill their darkest secret to anyone who would listen.

But there was something entirely, conspicuously suspicious with how you were behaving.

Winter had long passed, the long winter nights and graveyard shifts of endless freak encounters had worn a hole in his patience and boots. The spring season was beginning to end, and the warm days and nights of summer were setting on his skin.

Six full months of you, the first-ever villain he had fought as a Pro Hero, the first-ever villain to have openly flirted with him and to have him flirt back, being suspiciously… kind. 

Every shift of his, he would find you waiting for him on one of the regular rooftops. Every time he would check in with the database to make sure you weren’t wanted for some crime to find that you were innocent. Every time he would feel pissed off because you wore those earbuds that rendered his quirk useless and you somehow mastered the capturing weapon within weeks.

Now Shinsou didn’t pout, he really didn’t, but there were moments where you would appear from behind him, finger swiping down his spine as you effortlessly twirled around him, a stupid sly grin on your face as you held onto the collar of his hero costume.

“Don’t pout, Mindjack-senpai, I’m here now,” you’d purr each and every time.

He loved the dangerous purr to your voice, the way your eyes hooded over, peering at him through your eyelashes, but he knew better. He had to know better. It wasn’t that villains were terrible people per se; he’d learned a lot of villains were just thoroughly sick of being mistreated (and he had wondered what would have happened if he had been denied from UA… would he be one?). He knew that for the most part, you were quite harmless, merely sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, living a life to your personal laws and rules.

It didn’t make you evil, merely dangerous.

But he had a job to do where even if it was justifiable to beat the ever-living shit out of your sister's abuser, nearly murdering him in rage and refusing to calm down when Shinsou had arrived on the scene with the use of his quirk didn't hold up well in court. It had started this long chain of events where you had absolutely hated him for a time as you were forced to stay overnight in a jailhouse. And many horrible days afterward where you performed what Shinsou had thought to be illegal actions only to find that no, they weren’t. As a matter of fact, entirely legal because Japan had yet to update their codes. 

Long after he had discovered this, you had returned to actual crime, your physical ability growing by leaps and bounds as he ran after you after catching you doing something dangerously illegal. Shinsou was a proud hero and was incredibly proud of the impact he made as a Pro Hero, but it was clear as day, even to him, that he often let you slip through his fingers. Like a child opening their cupped fingers and wondering why the water had left.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him act this way, but he certainly didn’t wish to find out.

“So what’s on the schedule today, Mindjack-senpai?” you asked, appearing from the shadows of the rooftop, not scaring Shinsou in the slightest as this was always where you greeted him. “Are we saving the Prime Minister today? Stealing — I mean, protecting those stupid bedazzled eggs in the museum? Perhaps solving an unsolvable case?”

“Smooth,” Shinsou snarked, his tired purple eyes piercing through your bright ones that seemed undoubtedly excited. “How many times do I gotta tell you that there aren't that many actual case assignments? Besides, most team-ups happen in the morning when I’m asleep.”

“Being a hero is so boring!”

“You’re not a hero.”

“Am too!” Shinsou snorted, turning on his heel and began walking away, listening to your footsteps running after him to keep up with his long paces as you cried that out.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

Shinsou stopped, his eyebrow raised in slight forced annoyance but much more amusement, when you spun in front of him, hand on his chest, cheeks puffing with your heavy breathes.

“Look!”

Tilting his head back, Shinsou grunted when your phone was shoved in his face. “What is this?”

“Hero Commission Regulation Handbook, page fifty-four, Article three, sub-article twenty-three,” you chirped, turning your phone back to yourself so that you may read it correctly. “It states that besides attending hero school like a bunch of nerds, civilians have the option of securing internships with approved Pro Heroes and work side by side with them for six months! Once finishing their internships, said Pro Hero must simply sign my licensing papers and bam, a hero I’ll become.”

“And which sniveling hero did you get to do your dirty work?” Shinsou scoffed, not at all buying the notion that you of all people wanted to become a hero. A vigilante at best, an anti-hero much more realistically, and staying a villain as default.

“You,” you smirked, winking at him before turning on your heel and sauntering off, knowing full well the patterns of his routines. 

Shinsou sighed, but he let a familiar smirk fall on his face as he walked after you, enjoying the way you glanced back at him with your wide clear eyes. But that suspicious, gut feeling didn’t leave his core, no matter how sweet and beautiful he found your smile. 

“So, Mindjack-senpai, who are we apprehending today?”

“You want me to sign your paper this entire time, and you’ve been addressing me as��senpai?” Shinsou commented, his weapon shooting off to a nearby building, snapping straight in his hand when it was ready. “Where are your manners? It’s Mindjack-sensei to you.”

He didn’t wait for your response, choosing to swing off the ledge of the building with no hesitation, but a part of him wished he could have heard the sound of your laugh he only seemed to hear through the streaming, far away air.

…

… 

While usually, Shinsou didn’t have actual cases during his patrols, this job, after all, was much more spontaneous than anything else, today was different.

Today was different altogether, really.

First off, he showed up to work when the sun was still up just to get his meeting intel down in time for him to be out on the scene in time. He had nodded plenty, silently taking in Creati’s information on the drug cartel they wanted to in the next few weeks take down for numerous charges. The creation of dangerous, illegal drugs, prostitution rings, robbery, and murder being the main ones. It was some bigger stuff, so they needed all the evidence they could get.

Shinsou stared at the faces of the more prominent names of the cartel, studying every crook, nanny, and scar on their faces as Creati simply ended with where they focused down onto where their drug creating facilities were at, but still needed confirmation. “They’re pretty difficult to get to without knowing where they are,” Creati admitted, handing him a GPS. “You’ll need this.” He would be the first to start evidence gathering; after all, his old classmates would begin tomorrow.

So he had left, going to the first hideout and finding out it was completely empty. Not a single spec of evidence remaining, not a secret door or trap to get him to where they could be hiding from sight.

So was the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Something sat weirdly in his stomach as he began walking towards the final one on his list, and he froze when he saw lights shifting and moving from around the building. Quickly, Shinsou hopped to higher grounds, his phone already out, ready to take pictures. He lay low to the rooftop, practically army crawling to get to place to place as he neared the windows on the rooftop, allowing him to peer in onto the building he was scouting to find precisely what he needed. 

The entire building was a drug production spot.

His eyes scanned the building floor, singling out ten of the twelve main heads on the cartel, and he smirked. Perfect.

“Whatcha doing here, Mindjack-sensei?” your voice whispered millimeters from his ear, and Shinsou bit his tongue harshly to keep the instinctual scream from ruining his covert operation.

He snapped his head over to you, eyes slightly furious, eyebrows knitted tightly as he looked to see you leaning toward him. You were in a different outfit today, completely black, drowning you out in the night. He blinked; even the capturing weapon he had still been unsuccessful in stealing back from you was pitch black.

“What’re you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” you asked, straightening up and twirling for him as if you were wearing a magnificent dress and not personally created ‘hero’ clothes. “Ah, I hoped you would! Sorry, I had to get rid of the purple. I just felt it made me look too cute, right? I know I can’t have villains falling for me like you had me falling for you!”

Shinsou did not blush, no he didn’t, “shut up.”

“So what are we looking for today?” you asked, pressing down onto the floor beside him. Your arm touching his as pressed your face towards the glass. “Is this a stakeout?”

“Less stakeout, more information gathering,” Shinsou grumbled, typing some needed notes onto a file on his phone. It seemed to him that there was plenty here for the drug making charges. “We’re trying to get their bigger names caught in the action.”

“Oh, I thought heroes just burst in whenever they wanted, that’s what they do in the movies. Plus, you always threaten me with being arrested with no evidence,” you giggle, shifting closer to the glass, smile wide on your face.

“After saying that, say goodbye to me signing off that paper of yours,” he grunted, slipping his phone back into his pocket while you scrunch your nose at him. Shinsou couldn’t help but stare at you as the palms of your hands supported your chin as you hummed some song he couldn’t recognize.

“Ne, Mindjack-sensei, did you get the big boss?” you asked, your finger pressed against the cold glass, and Shinsou frowned, returning his head to the glass.

Right where you were pointing was, in fact, the head of the cartel. He was horrendously scrawny, holding no sense of fear or malice, and Shinsou wondered what his quirk could be that he was in charge of an operation such as this one.

“Oh, his right-hand man came too! All twelve are here!” you cheered quietly as Shinsou took documentation on his phone, and that suspicious rock in his stomach finally made sense at this second.

“Y/l/n?” he asked, head turning toward yours, tired eyes glinting with emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

“Mhm?”

“How did you know there were twelve main members, and how’d they look like?”

Silence.

Shinsou’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his canines glinting as he locked eyes with yours that were wide with shock and disbelief.

“How’d you find me—?”

He watched you lean away from the glass, fingers shooting to your earpieces. And with the inkling of suspicion sprinting through his veins, the purple-haired hero still found that he moved too slow. 

BOOM!!!!

He blacked out when his body flew with the explosion.

...

..

.

Ringing.

Pain.

Numbness.

Shinsou could only hear ringing in his ears as soot and ashes fell down from the sky, falling on his body, coating his gaping, open mouth as he tried to breathe, trying to calm himself. Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Where was the explosion from? Were you okay?

His eyes blinked heavily, altogether so irregularly that Shinsou couldn’t help but feel he was out of his body when you reappeared in his sight. Your hand pressing to his cheeks sympathetically, eyes truly hurt as you shook your head, hand grabbing into his bloodied pocket to take his phone.

“I’m sorry,” your voice seemingly whispered, just loud enough for him to hear you through the ringing from the explosion. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Mindjack… these are the scumbags that hurt my friends and family. I couldn’t let them live. Plus… I didn't have a choice, they were competition.”

He spluttered, the warm goo of blood and saliva choking out of his mouth as he convulsed on the ground, his eyes watching as you went.

“See you later, hero.”

He tried to yell at you to come back, that you were a coward, a fucking menace that he would destroy the next time he saw you, but his voice failed to work. Nothing was working except his pain receptors, his heart that kept shoving blood into his lungs that he kept spitting up, but he saw flashing white and red lights as unconsciousness sank its jagged teeth into his neck.

An ambulance was here.

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It took four months to recover from the accident.

His hearing had been fucked up. Not even medical quirks had managed to save his hearing entirely. But hey, it did get him the chance for Bakugou Katsuki to come to his room, called him pathetic, and showed off his own hearing aid that he had needed since his quirk had damaged his own hearing. Not to mention that for the past four months, he had been teaching him sign language just in case.

He wasn’t alone, it seemed.

But it was four months, and he had recovered fully.

The hearing aid he required in his left ear still made his ear ache in pain, and he found that he liked it much better shoved in the back of a draw than anything else. But he knew it was dangerous to be a hero without his full hearing. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou’s trial through this all and the help of Hatsume Mei to create a more appropriate hearing aid for heroes, he wasn’t sure if he would still be here — working that is.

But today — or well, night — was a new day, and he was going to push ahead. He could do this, no sweat, no problem. 

Well, that was until an all too familiar figure sat perched on a ledge on his usual route, legs swaying in the air as uncontrolled rage bubbled in his chest. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but a large part of Shinsou was embarrassed to have been caught up in all of this because of you. He had trusted you above all else even when his instincts yelled at him not to because he knew what it was like to be painted as a villain, and he had hoped by letting you in more, you would have changed. He thought you had.

But you hadn’t.

Not one bit.

…

…

You sat at the edge of the building, already having heard the loud crunch of Shinsou’s shoes against the gravel rooftop, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t know how to face him, how to tell him that you were both sorry that he got caught up in your schemes, but that you weren’t sorry for what you had done. Those bastards had it coming.

“Give me one good reason not to push you off the building,” Shinsou growled, probably much louder than he intended. 

Instead of answering, you shrugged.

You hadn’t brought the earbuds that would keep you from being immune to his quirk, and you slightly feared what would happen if you gave in to the whispers of his words. Would you blackout in a daze before coming back to normal only when placed in the prefectures jail? Would he actually attempt to kill you? You had no idea.

But you turned on the ledge, looking at his tired purple eyes that shook with his anger and betrayal. You had done a number on him.

“So, now you can’t seem to respond back to me?” he laughed bitterly, his teeth bared into a way too fierce smile, one that made your heart thump and sent a shiver down your spine. “What game do you think you’re playing?”

You still didn’t answer as you planted your feet back onto the rooftop and stood up, watching as his binds flared to life. Dancing and weaving around him in a dangerous coil of fabric, like a frilled dragon lion lizard extending its skin in a warning.

“Should’ve taken you down with that first time I found you,” he spat, his eyes narrowing as you took steps toward him, and the weapon seemed to snap at you. “Did your sister pull the same bullshit on him as you did me? Is that why he became ‘psycho?’”

Now that one nearly got the response out of you as fury thrummed through your veins as you were suddenly nose to nose. You couldn’t help it, but you knew there was no point in explaining your reasoning for doing what you did because he would never understand; he couldn’t. 

So as his eyes flashed dangerously from your eyes, his breathing coming down harshly against your upper lip, the hatred he had for you (that was probably reignited from a year ago and make it double) simmered between the air between you and him. You couldn’t resist.

Your lips pressed against his in a simmering hot kiss. 

Shinsou shoved you away, as quickly as you had pressed your mouth against his, but you were back on him before he could utter a word. Only that this time, he kissed you back with scalding, burning heat. 

You never really knew how much smaller you were to Shinsou until you were on the tips of your toes to kiss him, his hands practically burning you as they gripped onto your hips, pulling you so close there was hardly any room to breathe. His kiss was hateful, spiteful, and full of unspoken passion the two of you had never addressed during the period that was good. It had been so good, but he was a hero, he would never understand.

His teeth bit harshly onto your lower lip, and you hissed, your fingers burying into his hair and tugging at the root of his hair as his tongue came and pressed dangerously against yours. His tongue was hot against yours, he was undoubtedly much more hotblooded than you were, and with his emotions heightened, he exhausted what. 

Tongues clashed against one another, but it wasn’t even a battle of dominance; it was a battle to find who surrendered. There was to be no joy or excitement for whichever tongue prevailed, just the burning of the tears falling down your face and the acid taste on your tongue as he suckled on your pink muscle.

Your eyes were partially opened, watching his angry yet blank purple eyes meet yours, neither one of you allowing yourself to give in to the pure elation and sensation this was bringing. No, he wouldn’t allow it, and you wouldn’t have it.

The stubble of his beard scratched into your skin repetitively, feeling like sandpaper against your own skin as the kiss deepened, consuming the both of you on a whole new level as your crotches ground roughly against one another. Hisses and groans couldn’t stop pouring from your collective mouths, both of you hating yet craving more from this all. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he spoke to you like this, would he do something to you while you were like this? So when his massive, thick hand made contact with the underneath of your ass, scooping up your leg so that your covered cunt could now correctly grind into his hard cock, the weapon you stole from him a year ago bound around his neck, choking him, collaring him.

“I like my bitches chained up,” you mocked against his lips, but somehow, someway, Shinsou liked it. 

You groaned loudly at the way Shinsou gasped for air against the makeshift collar, your grin widening as you nodded your head, pulling away from his mouth as the grin became a smirk. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk when we were fucking?” you lied, teeth biting onto his lower lip and sucking on it as your hips oh so artfully bucked against his covered cock. You could feel the growing slick in your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable with the lack of proper friction, and your head lolled backward when he slammed your core against his, devilishly grinding against you.

He picked up your other leg and dropped the both of you to the floor, the uncomfortable gravel stone floor digging painfully into your back, but you could care less. Shinsou’s mouth was already back on your body, scratchy, scraping kisses placed on your neck, making you moan out, legs wrapping around his waist as you cant your hips upward to grind into him.

Unamused with the lack of his hands on your body, you took his arms that were planted at your shoulders and pressed his heavy palms on your breasts, avoiding the pissed look in his eyes as his teeth marked you painfully. You actually shrieked in pain. The feeling of his teeth tearing through the skin on your neck, while his finger kneaded and pulled at your covered breasts. It was unashamedly painful with how he played with your breasts. He seemed to grow happier with every sound of distress you made.

Fisting your hands back into his hair, you pulled him back to your face level, your eyes fluttered at the way his clothed erection carded perfectly between your sopping wet cunt. Blood stained his mouth, making his teeth slightly orange in tint, and you clicked your teeth in partial anger and pain as your neck throbbed. Slamming your lips back against his, you almost gagged at the taste of iron that soared through your senses as his tongue wasted no time to seek yours out. His lips and fingers were so ardent, manipulating your every body movement, cry of pain and pleasure as thrumming hatred for the stupid, stubborn hero above you still coursed through your veins. 

Sweat began to form at your temples as your lips gilded against his, your hips snapping up to meet his grinding hips, and an airy response keened from his mouth as you moaned loudly.

His incessantly grinding hips were making your legs shake with stimulation, your whines and whimpers for more opening like a flood gate as you finally stuck a hand between the two of you and shoved his pants to his knees. You dropped your legs from around his waist, and he assisted you in ripping your pants off from one side of your body, the fabric still clinging to your right leg, but you could hardly care. All you wanted was for him to plant his cock into your blazing heat and to fuck you, to claim you here on this rooftop that started and would end it all. You wanted him, his cock, and him.

“Fuck me,” you begged into his ear, and his back shivered with your words. You hooked your leg around his waist, carding his hot, throbbing cock against your soaked pussy, as you rolled your hips. “I want you to fuck me, fill me with his cock, and cum deep within me to show me just how much you fucking hate me.”

You cried out when his hand shot down to his cock to line it up with your squeezing, dripping hole, his mouth once again covering yours, kissing you aggressively, fueled with an emotion you could taste as bitter hatred. Your legs trembled as the tip of his cock continued to press against your entrance, not entirely entering it, not giving you friction to send you into a euphoric end. You could help the snarl that passed through your lips, your eyes angry beyond repair as the head of his cock continued to deny you. Whenever you tried to grind down, to force your walls around his cock, he went down with you, he wouldn’t allow it, and your cunt clenched against nothing as he gave you nothing.

Shinsou wheezes out a bitter chuckle, his hand raising his cock from between your soaked folds to slap his heavy, thick, and long length against your throbbing clit.

Hatred and desire soak your body, and you needily rub your clit against his cock, your hands shoving up his shirt to feel the scarred pattern of his back as you give him new ones that were produced by your nails.

“Don’t tease me, hero,” you snapped, fingers tearing into his skin to draw blood. “You fuck my pussy so good, right now, or I promise next time you’ll go out with that bomb too.”

That seems to do what you want because before those words settle on your nerves. His cock penetrates deeply within you, bottoming out entirely as your head thrashes back against the gravel of the floor, throbbing pain from that entirely ignorable because fuck, his cock was stretching you out. He was so thick, so fucking veiny that you could feel the pulsating veins on his cock pressing against your puffy, sensitive walls. You scream his name as the pleasure-filled pain pulses within you, your hips thrashing, wildly bucking in your attempt to calm from the sudden placement of his cock.

“Why are you so fucking big?” you splutter, a whining pitch to your voice as you clawed at his back, trying to separate your joined bodies but also trying to get even closer. “It’s so big, my walls feel like! Oh fuck, Shinsou, it feels like Imma split in two!”

It seems that Shinsou holds some great pride over those worse, because he growled deep in his chest, and his hips begin to fuck into you. It sends your hands to the base of his neck, clutching onto his skin with hope as you scream in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the wet squelches fill the air and tickle your ears. The head of his cock keeps dragging against your spongy wall, brushing over your g-spot over and over again as if he knew where it was, as if it was common knowledge as he fucked you further into the gravel floor. It didn’t even hurt anymore, your skin singing with joy as his cock fucked you stupid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me!” you whined, and Shiinsou made an approving noise. 

He grunts as your cunt flutters and clenches around him, his balls hitting your skin in possibly bruising force and speed. And his pelvis crashing against your stings ever so slightly, but has you begging for more, sobbing for more.

Your vulgar words and moans are unstoppable at this point, your legs and thighs trembling as they are still circled around him, sometimes assisting you in coming up to meet his driving, drilling hips. You whine into his ear, your mouth pressing blind and sloppy kisses against his slick with sweat neck.

It’s when both his hands bring your hips up to him, his cock finally bottoming out entirely within you, does the most primal moan rip through your mouth. You convulse underneath him, trying to move as the head of his cock buries against your cervix, poking your womb with power and speed that has you swearing behind the blackness of your vision that this sensation brings. You can see the entire galaxy, the world lighting up when his cock leaves the thin wall, and you gasp, shocked that the heat and slick of your cunt is still going. You tremble underneath him, wordless cries pittering from your mouth while he bites on your earlobe.

You soon readjust to the numbing pleasure, the bruising pleasure, and pain that comes with his cock slamming against your cervix. The way that he thrusts up into you, stretching out your walls far more than you were ever used to.

 A pathetic cry escaped your lips when he rolled over so that you were now on top, your body bouncing as soon as it could against him. You keened and whined, feeling the top of his cock licking your cervix, and you spluttered.

“Fuck this angle, this angle and your cock!?” you stammered, fists curling into his collar as you rode him, his hips snapping up into yours with that same animalistic power and speed.

His pace is irreplicable, near maddening with every successive thrust of his hips. Each snap, each wet noise sends you close to the edge, your inner walls clenching and milking his length with greater power as your senseless cries fill the night sky. His grip on your waist will leave purple bruises later tonight, you just know it, but the fire in his eyes as you lock fazes is enough for you to be okay with it.

Its intensifying, deepening, fire erupting in your core as your cunt throbs.

Sweat, tears, and spit fall from your face, and Shinsou surges upward, kissing you with everything he can. It's a maddening escape of lust and need and hatred being exchanged, saliva spreading between you, covering your hot faces with slimy coldness, But you keep him close, your mouth drinking him in more, begging for more as your tongue sinks into his mouth.

His fingers rake down from your back. Past the curve of your clapping ass and onto your powerful thighs that helped in your action to claim his cock. Your joined mouths, both parted in silent screams, wordless begs for more, branding curses that spoke of his hatred for you, your hatred of his job.

Fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

You held each other impossibly close. Despite the barriers of shirts and armor separating your chests, you swore you could feel his hammering heart flush against your chest. A steady, consistent beat reminding you that this was a one-time thing, that this was yet another bomb with only one explosion to it.

“S-Shit!” his voice finally managed to escape from the makeshift collar, and you nearly sobbed at the sound of his gravelly, husky voice. 

You still hated him, you really hated him and his stupid deep voice. 

Your back arches as the control you had on collar suddenly slacks, as if you had never had it there, and his own noises of sex, of hatred, of pleasure fill and echo in your ear. You can hear him mumbling something in your ear, your head pathetically nodding, tears streaming down your face only you can’t seem to figure out why. The throbbing pressure in your stomach made you near uncomfortable as his cock sank and disappeared from your cunt, your walls' vice grip becoming tighter and tighter and tighter.

There’s vigor, untapped lust, pent up frustration as he rolls you both around, pushing you back into the gravel and dives his length into your wet, loud cunt without mercy. You were overworked, over thrilled, the pressure of your coming orgasm snapping into your every fiber of your being, your toes curling, and drool seeping from your lips as he growled. 

The noise seemed to resonate deeply in your own chest, and he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, pathetic, needy noises escaping your lips as you stared into his angry, lusting eyes. And as he buried his teeth into your bottom lip, his nose scrunched in an aggressive snarl, he spoke with finality:

“Cum.”

You weren’t sure if you had suddenly fallen under the persuasion of his brainwash, or he just knew you were overfilled with pressure, but you went rigid in his hold, your eyes rolling backward, and your vision going white. You came in powerful waves, electric stimming vibrating through your entire body as your spongey, wet walls clamped around him, and Shinsou came in a guttural groan. His hips snapping into your with five last, robust, resounding thrusts until your trembling abdomen and thighs were stilled with his crushing weight.

 You could feel his hot cum pulsing and thriving deep within your cunt, and you panted heavily, your body feeling alarmingly weak as the both of you lay there. A puddle of cum, tears, drool, pain, longing, and hatred.

He lays on top of you, his chest heaving with his breathing, and you felt frozen beneath him. The pain of the gravel roof no longer adds to your pleasure but rather is stabbing you in pain. It’s quiet as you lay there.

He’s quiet.

You’re silent.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, interrupting the silence that you hated.

“I can’t tell you,” you admit, voice thick and heavy with untold emotions.

“You know I’ll have to arrest you, right?” Shinsou spoke softly, but he didn’t move to capture you, and you didn’t move to run.

What was the point? It wasn’t as if there was ever a fighting chance for the both of you. The world would have never allowed it, so why bother?

“I don’t think you hate me enough to arrest me right now, sleep on it,” you softly chided, your eyes staring up into the universe, begging to know why they made you a freak?

“Not right now, you spent all my energy,” Shinsou admits, rising up from you, his soft cock removing itself from your humming core, and you looked away to keep from staring. “I really hate you though, y/l/n. I don’t like liars or pretenders.”

“Convince your cock of it next time,” you couldn’t help but fire back, your upper lip curling in your anger and hatred at the sound of his zipping pants.

Silence and a beat follow your words.

“I’ll tell you this now,” Shinsou spoke, turning on his heels, his tone was cold, distant, like a stranger who could care less for you. “Don’t let me see you again. If I do, I promise you, I’ll send your ass to Tartarus. We’re no longer on good terms.”

Anger, hatred, and fury course through your veins as you stand up, legs weak, but spirit wounded as you pull up your pants, uncaring of his cum leaking from your slit. 

“Don’t you dare show your face to me again! Next time I won’t save your fucking ass when I blow something up!” you snapped, the tears running down your face uncontrollable although your voice never gave it away. It didn’t have to though, he turned around one last time, and his eyes met yours, and the two of you glared and simmered. 

But, he didn’t bother to respond back as he disappeared into the shadows of the night sky.

You collapsed onto your knees, exhaustion finally catching up with you, and you realized his capturing weapon you had stolen was finally taken back by the rightful owner. You fell forward, the tears and silent sobs muffled by your bitten lip as you stayed on that rooftop for an hour. Crying like a freak.

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure if you ever hated him.

...

..

.

Incoming Text…

Incoming Text…

New Text Message Received!

From Unknown:      ↳ Good job, y/n. Phase one is complete.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

[itgetsbetterproject]

📚 QUEERBOOK 2024 is hereee! We made a book by and for LGBTQ+ youth! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Last year, we asked LGBTQ+ youth: what's your idea of a "queer utopia?"

Not gonna lie - with more than 150 bills introduced in 35 states in 2023 that aimed to restrict student access to inclusive and diverse books and other library materials, the theme felt pretty radical.

And you DELIVERED. With the help of our Youth Voices (amazing queer youth activists from across the country), we compiled your amazing submissions of poetry, short essays and letters, visual art, photography, and more into Queerbook 2024. Like a yearbook, it captures what queer youth are feeling, going through, and hoping for - right here, right now across the U.S.

It's also no accident that it's the perfect small-ish size to stash in your locker or backpack so you can crack it open any time you're looking for some queer connection. :3

Read some more about the book and grab your own limited-run copy of Queerbook 2024 now here.

#itgetsbetter #queerbook #lgbtq youth #queer youth #trans youth #queer lit #lgbtq books #studyblr #lgbtqia

[dameronology]

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’) 

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work 

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it 

enjoy 

- jazz 

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth. 

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse. 

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you. 

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain. 

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life. 

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you. 

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore 

‘You look like shit.’  

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before. 

 The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once. 

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured. 

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally. 

 ‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way. 

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead. 

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you. 

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured. 

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

-- 

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing. 

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony. 

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be. 

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably. 

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’ 

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it. 

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it. 

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day. 

 There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities. 

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about. 

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye. 

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.  

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’ 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’ 

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’ 

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’ 

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

--

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter. 

That was the problem. 

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be. 

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever? 

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find. 

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you? 

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing. 

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked. 

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him. 

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’ 

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked. 

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later. 

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now. 

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.  

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either. 

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed. 

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around. 

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.  

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human. 

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost. 

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan angst #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi angst #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan angst #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi angst #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars angst

[sohin-ace]

Bucci gang hc with a female team member that's always tired and sleeping but has lightning fast reflexes? Like, she's always tired and sluggish but she always manages to survive and complete missions. Every. Single. Dang. Time.

Didn't write dialogue for Abba because his HC was so long already.

Bucci gang w/ a chronically tired S/O HC

Bucciarati

The least worried of the group, but still somewhat concerned.

He knew what you were capable of. He took you in after seeing the extent of your abilities. It didn't matter what the gang thought of you at first, they would eventually understand, was what he told you.

He's never seen someone so physically drained in his life and he'd love to believe that you may have a clinical condition that explains it.

Gets so frustrated when you don't listen to him during briefings and go to do your things on your own in missions.

It's so dangerous and he gets so scared. Even if you always succeed, sometimes without a single scratch, he still can't help but worry.

He stomps to you and when you think he's going to yell at you or slap you for being so reckless, he instead takes you in his arms, relieved.

"It's only a matter of time until something happens to you... God you scare me..."

Otherwise, he has no problems letting you lean onto him when you're feeling spent, or want to nap on him in the car.

Abbachio

Really? That was the new member Bucciarati trusted and brought in?

He was so pissed and frustrated whenever you laid halfway onto the table during meetings, or dozed off when someone reported for duty.

You were so lazy, undisciplined and churlish he couldn't stand it at times.

Some people, like him, worked their ASSES off to get to where they were, and you were just hunched over and drooling?

He was okay with a member feeling a bit sick or tired occasionally, especially if it was Bruno who overworked, but you were just too much!

He constantly slaps you to wake you up or get your attention and scolds you for it.

The way you handled the missions with such endeavour and skill was so contradictory to your usual slow attitude, he was so surprised.

To be honest he's terrified. How could someone be so two-faced?

But now he finally understood why you had been taken here by Bucciarati. You were indeed a valuable addition to the team, he had to recognize it.

It takes time for him to actually trust you and make sure you won't betray them, but he's still very admirative.

Giorno

He wouldn't show it but he was a bit worried. About the gang but mostly about you.

He guessed that you had some vitamin defficiency or anemia maybe? That would explain it, but he was no doctor.

He likes to believe that you're not just plain lazy and careless. If Bucciarati took you in, it was for a reason, he wanted to trust you.

And he was absolutely right.

He had been stuck, alone and in the verge of death on one dreadful mission. Nobody was there, and he couldn't call out for help.

He had used Golden Experience as a desperate last resort to call for one of the members, but he had no hope of anyone coming just in time to save him.

He was beyond shocked when, barely a few minutes after his call, you bursted through the place at lightspeed and took him away, not letting anyone even find you as you brought him to safety.

How did you come in so fast? Where were all the enemies? Did you... take them out all by yourself?

"Thank you, Y/N... I... I owe you my life..."

Otherwise, he puts a bunch of flowers and leaves on your hair when you nap.

Mista

He was pretty laid-back and lazy himself sometimes too. When he sees you chilling, sleeping, looking all jaded he just chuckles and join you in.

When you join the gang at first, he doesn't doubt that you could be a great spy, or a healer, maybe you could spot enemies like Narancia?

Surely he was NOT prepared for what kind of abilities you truly hid behind your tired and deviant facade.

The way you were fighting and the speed and clarity in your movements, he couldn't even catch everything with his two eyes.

The pistols had called for you, as Mista was in a dire situation and surely enough, you were there mere minutes after. He wondered if you had teleporting abilities or if your Stand gave you some kind of hyper speed. Turns out, you were just that fast.

You told him to hang in there and took his gun to finish off the enemies. Taking them one by one.

Your tone and the energy you had in your voice sent electricity down his spine. You were so... Different than what you has used him to.

You patch him up with expertise and he can't help but stare at you like you were a Godly revelation.

"Not gonna lie Y/N, that was kinda hot..."

Narancia

Pranks you all day. And I mean ALL DAY.

There's a recurring joke about how you're going to be the first one to die because of how lazy you are and how you're probably gonna fall asleep mid-fight.

Bucciarati does not like those jokes, at all.

Takes great pleasure in waking you up in the loudest and most obnoxious way possible just to see you flinch and panick.

"Giorno, put a centipede in Y/N's ear. Come on it's gonna be fun!"

How do you manage to sleep with him, Mista and Fugo fooling around next to you all the time, that was a grand mystery.

He brings you pizza, claiming 'you need vitamins'. Because everyone knows pizza have the perfect amounts of nutrients...

He's so impressed and admirative of you when you absolutely kill it during missions. It's like you're a completely different person, he doesn't recognize you.

He's your number 1 fanboy, please sign him an autograph because wow, you're so incredible he can't believe you're real.

It's incredibly funny how you immediately start to yawn and sleep in the car right after the Tom Cruise stunts you just pulled 5 minutes ago.

Fugo

He thinks you're just lazy and he doesn't feel comfortable with you here at first.

Like Abbachio, he wonders what went on Bucciarati's mind to even recruit somebody like you?

But at the same time he's very curious. Did you have some kind of strange disorder he's never heard of?

Every time he saw you, you were either sleeping, slumped over, or just plain out of it.

Are you doing this on purpose to mess with him or piss him off? Because if you are, it's working.

He forces coffee, orange juice, soda, anything down your throat to keep you awake and focused on missions, and when you refuse, he starts biting his nails.

"You better stay focused on this one I swear to God...!"

He's so scared and anxious you're gonna fuck it all up and get someone, or worse even, yourself killed just because you're a careless slug.

When he sees how operational and strong you were and how incredibly fast you acted during missions, his view on you does a complete 180.

In the end, your down-toned presence was very cooling for his angry soul, and he couldn't afford to lose you so stupidly and easily...

Trish

The first time she saw you she wasn't too surprised to see you napping and being a bit slow.

You were in the mafia after all, not necessarily the calmest and chillest occupation. It was okay to feel sleepy once in a while... Or all the time.

She even believed that you weren't just tired physically, but rather maybe you were tired of them.

And honestly? She relates.

But when one day on a mission you went from dragging your feet slowly like a drunkard to swiftly grabbing her, lifting her in your arms like she weighted nothing and running like a freaking cheetah a second after hearing gunshots, she was FLABBERGASTED.

First of all, WHAT? Second of all, HOW? She is so shaken and her eyes couldn't possibly get any wider. You went from 0 to 100 REAL FAST.

She's even wondering if that's really you holding her right now or if you have been possessed or something.

When you show her a characteristic tired smirk as you run, all her doubts are wiped and she's so charmed and impressed, you litterally and figuratively sweeped her off her feet.

"You... You're amazing Y/N..."

#my hcs #jojo headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #writing #x reader #reader insert #anon #trish una #leone abbachio #narancia ghirga #guido mista #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #bucci gang #bucci gang x reader #bucciarati's team

[leejeongz]

nsfw a-z JAEHYUK (treasure)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he forgets he even exists until you’re back to your usual, smiley, cheerful self. he becomes your slave and he is prepared to do anything for you, from cleaning you up to leaving you alone (which he never wants to do but if you want to be left alone who is he to refuse). he gets a little worried when you appear down or anxious after having sex with him the first few times but you reassure him that it’s pretty normal and that he just needs to be there for you when you need him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he likes his hands. he likes the way they look against your skin when he’s holding your waist and how he can get the perfect grip around your neck. his fingers are long too which makes it very easy for him to reach places 👀🤭

on you he likes your lips. he likes his own lips, sure, lips in general are really nice, yeah, but your lips are something else. feeling them against his own, how soft and gentle they are, he never wants them to leave his. the way you bite down on them when he’s giving you some amazing head too… that how he knows he’s doing something right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’s a cumming inside kind of guy but obviously that’s not always possible so the next best thing is a hot facial. he likes when he’s finished all over your face and then you clean it all off the tip of his dick with your mouth too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he keeps a pair of your panties under his pillow for when he’s horny at night without you. you know about it, but no one else does.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

1 sexual partner. i wouldn’t term him a sex god, but he has a general idea of how to make you feel good, he may need a little direction to go off of the first few times.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

as much as he loves seeing your pretty face, hitting it from the back is his favourite position. he has total control of the situation when you’re on all fours without it seeming overpowering or oppressive. you can also get the deepest strokes from him while in this position. sometimes he gets a little shy about his facial expressions but this way he doesn’t have to be.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

you’re both still young and sex is supposed to be fun and so he makes light out of every situation to make it seem less intense. he likes tickling you and making you giggle, he likes just talking about random things even though it’s not the time or place, just to make you both feel more comfortable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he will keep it nice and trimmed for the most part but obviously sometimes sex can happen at unpredictable times. in those instances, it’s usually grown out, but he’s not ashamed or insecure about it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

romance is the only thing on his mind. this guy loves whispering things into your ear, or just telling you how good you’re doing, because he wants you to feel loved and appreciated for all that you’re doing. something romantic that he does that ALWAYS catches you off guard is caressing your cheek with the back of his hand/fingers and then gently pinching your chin with his thumb and index finger to make you look at him and kiss him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

it actually takes him a while to cum when he’s on his own, and he usually asks for your help before going anywhere else. i see him as someone who likes to feel himself when he’s doing it, like he’ll use oil and drip it all over his naked body while sitting on his gaming chair.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

sensory deprivation (giving and receiving)- it’s rare that you two don’t have vanilla sex, but blindfolds are something that you incorporate into almost every scene. he loves putting them onto you or wearing them to show a trusting relationship between the two of you. although some intimacy may feel lost because you can’t look into each other’s eyes, it means that every little action feels electric, and that is wayyy better for you two in the moment. you know each other's likes and dislikes and use those to THEIR advantage for sure.

breeding- okay i already said he likes cumming inside so there’s that. but it’s also because he’s so possessive. and he wants to hear you beg for his hot cum inside you too. or for you to ride him and not stop until he releases inside you.

praise (giving and receiving)- as i mentioned above he loves to tell you how good you’re making him feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look. he wants you to feel good in the moment because he feels that way too. he also loves when you tell him how good he’s making you feel.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

so it has to be private first of all, i don’t see him getting freaky anywhere that you two can get caught. i’m guessing his ultimate favourite place is just in bed, but he’s not opposed to some action in the kitchen on the counter when he knows no one will hear or interrupt, or even on the sofa when he doesn’t think you two can make it to the bedroom.

he’s also keen to try out a little something special, maybe in the bath. where you two start having an innocent yet romantic bath, that slowly turns into something more. but he spends too long trying to figure out how it would work and decides it is too much hassle than it’s worth.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

as boring as this sounds… the thing that turns him on the most is kissing you. he pulls away from intense kisses with the biggest, hopeful smile on his face. your lips really have that effect on him.

he likes when you dirty talk and when you attempt to take the lead from the get go. the phrase that gets him the most turned on is “i want you in my mouth”. your enthusiasm is SUCH A HUGE TURN ON.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no hook ups, casual sex or one night stands. he has to be in a relationship with you and you guys have probably been dating for a while before anything happens anyway.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers to receive but is extremely good at eating you out. he’s not shy and will go straight for it after using his fingers just to get you a little wet to begin with. he likes to smile while he’s down there, he knows that you know when he’s doing that and that you like it so of course he’s going to.

when it comes to receiving he enjoys enough to make him want to repay you almost immediately. he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, whether they should be on your head or his, but he can’t control them anyway because he’s so into your sucking his dick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

more on the fast and rough end of the scale. he can’t bear being slow, that’s just teasing himself really. but usually after he’s cum, he does a few extremely slow strokes, just to make sure his cum is in and that it’s all in there.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a fan. at all. doesn’t want to get caught, doesn’t want one person to feel left out of the pleasure bc that’s usually what happens, doesn’t want to rush anything. if he’s feeling horny at an inconvenient time of the day, or if you are, you usually just agree to wait.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not really. he’s almost always vanilla, with a slight teeny tiny bit of light bdsm thrown in (d/s, handcuffs, blindfolds (occasionally)) and so he doesn’t really like venturing out of his comfort zone. if you share the same wants as him, that’s perfect. if you wanna be a little more adventurous, it’s going to take a lot of convincing and he has to trust you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2 rounds maximum. most of the time only 1 because he’s tired and just wants cuddles after releasing a load lol. can go for 2 but it’s very rare and would take a lot of you turning him on to get him to do it twice.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no toys when he’s around. he does not like the idea of being replaced by a toy, anything that a toy can do, he can do too, that’s his thoughts on the matter. he doesn’t want to use them on himself either, isn’t even willing to try because he’s told himself that he won’t like it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he slowly reveals to you that he’s a big ol tease. and you’re not getting away with anything just because you want to, he might have let you before, but not now. he likes to be teased too, but just so you know, you’re getting punished for doing it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

okay this boy is LOUD. at first, he tries to be real quiet, then once a small whisper espcapes he’s just like fuck it and it slowly starts building up to a very… audible session.

he’s definitely one to talk during sex, not even just dirty talk, he will literally talk about anything lmao. but he always announces before he finishes, he repeats “i’m cumming” or “i’m going to cum” multiple times before actually doing so. you actually start finding it kind of cute and endearing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

did i mention he’s a big fan of kissing lol. he embraces any and all types of kisses and it’s very gentle and delicate. sometimes (when you’re really taking him there) they become super hungry and he somehow manages to back you into the nearest thing, whether that’s the wall or the bed etc. that’s the first real sign that he’s horny.

honestly, i don’t think he’s that shy about talking about your sex lives with anyone. like he’ll offer advice and share his experiences with anyone willing to listen if you say he can, just because he empathises with those who might be nervous or on edge to try something.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s blessed what can i say? he’s longer than average and thicker than average AND knows how to use it (eventually). every inch of him is perfect and “down there” is no different. of course he’s vvv proud of his dick size and doesn’t hesitate to bring it up, but he actually kind of feels sorry for you having to take it all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

when you first get into a relationship, although it’s quite high, he can control it so much so that it appears to you that it’s low. but soon you learn that he wants pussy every other day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if you let him, he’d be asleep straight away lmao, but only if he could have his arms around you of course. but if you wanna stay up for a bit, he’s down. he hates morning sex because he’s too tired to go a whole day afterwards loool.

#smut #treasure smut #treasure imagines #jaehyuk #yoon jaehyuk #jaehyuk smut #yoon jaehyuk smut

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

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The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

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