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saetoru · 8 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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bluejutdae · 1 month

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“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it’s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

#bluejutdae #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #Thiana writes Chan

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luveline · 9 months

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is there any way we could get badass!reader x spencer? except he’s injured this time? how does she react?

tysm ♡ cw hospital / gunshot wounds. 1.1k

"You have to let me see him."

"It's family only," the nurse says, shrugging sympathetically.

You grit your teeth. "That's what I'm telling you, I am his family. We've been together for four months."

"Sorry. Unless you're blood related or his next of kin, I can't let you."

"Spencer's next of kin is in a sanitarium in Las Vegas. I don't understand why you can't let me see him." You're trying not to shout at her, rage trembling in your aching fingers. "I understand that it's night time, and that he was admitted alone, but he was shot, he's not sick, and I can't make him worse. Please. You have to let me see him."

When begging doesn't work, you get mean. You'd be ashamed to admit you flashed your badge if it weren't for the fact that you have no shame when it comes to Spencer. Face flushed with heat from a good twenty minutes yelling, a different nurse escorts you to Spencer's room.

"I expect my colleagues will be arriving soon," you say. "And I expect they'll be met with less resistance."

The nurse smiles at you, as fake as they come, but you don't deserve a real one. You don't care. Breaking rules and bending policies means nothing to you while Spencer's laying alone in a hospital bed.

His heart monitor beeps steadily. He's sleeping, waxy face crushed sideways into a limp pillow, his stomach a lump under the sheets where he's been wrapped. He was alone when it happened —no one, BAU or otherwise, knows who did it or why. The hospital didn't know who Spencer was until he woke up after surgery and told them himself.

And you'd been sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself (and vaguely irritated) because he didn't answer your text that morning.

It's not hard being vulnerable with Spencer. He's your widely known soft spot, and you're unashamed. But it felt like a mistake, constantly checking to see if he'd answered your text. Good morning, I know we're supposed to see each other tomorrow but do you want to come over and watch movies tonight? Let me know had felt like I'm pathetic and in love with you and my day revolves around when you're free.

None of that matters now. In fact, it's all embarrassingly small.

You creep up beside his bed and reach out tentatively. His hair falls out of his face with the barest of touches. He's had blood wiped poorly from his cheek, orangey streaks lining his jaw. His undereyes are dark like he hasn't eaten for days, his veins spider legs stark against his eyelids.

You put your hand on his cheek, rubbing it lightly. "I'm sorry it took me so long," you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Spencer stirs, a groan rumbling from the centre of his chest.

"I thought that was you," he mumbles, his fingers brushing your elbow.

"When?" you ask.

"You were yelling."

Yeah, well. You need to be disruptive sometimes. "They wouldn't let me in." You're not a big crier, just seeing him like this, knowing he was alone and probably scared, it has tears pricking. "Spencer, I'm so sorry."

"Hey." He clears his throat, your emotion starting him into wakefulness. "Hey, don't get upset. It's okay. It bounced off of me–" You groan and he laughs, though he grabs your elbow quickly after. "Ouch. Don't make me laugh."

"I didn't say anything." You pet his face. He looks pretty even when he's in a bad way. Your chest is a pit.

"It barely touched me. They said my feminine hips saved my life."

"Stop trying to make me laugh," you say pleadingly.

Spencer holds your gaze. "Stop looking so sad and I'll stop."

"Are you hurting?" you ask. You know you sound awful, a scared tone that he's never heard from you before, and you try to tamp it down as a lone tear breaks free, streaking down your cheek. "How's your pain? I can make them give you more–"

"I know you can. I'm fine now you're here."

You lean down to kiss the tip of his pert nose. Careful, you kiss his lips, enthused when he kisses up. "I'll take care of everything," you promise.

The door opens behind you. You give Spencer a last squeeze and find Emily in the entrance with a bag pressed to her chest, her hair windblown, shocked with worry.

"Spencer," she says, rushing forward to hug him.

He's in a hospital bed and still insists on comforting her as he'd done you, arms threaded over her shoulders. "Hey. I'm fine."

"Morgan and Garcia want to be here," she assures him, standing straight. "They're trying to keep the site clean. Spencer, what the hell happened?"

You drag a chair to his bed and sit on his right. You don't take his hand, he doesn't offer it, but the longer his story goes, the closer you find yourself. "I didn't even realise they were following me," he's saying. Emily nods with Hotch on the phone, listening intently, repeating anything Hotch misses.

You know you should be strong. Brave. You should be paying attention to his every word, ready to take the rains and solve the case, serve retribution against whoever it is that thought they could hurt him, but Spencer looks so tired. You can't imagine being anywhere that isn't his side right now. A blood bag fills at his side, a catheter runs under the bed, an IV line feeding pain medication and fluids into him mottled the skin on the inside of his wrist with bruise. Sometimes you have to stay put.

Emily hugs you before she leaves. You hug back.

"If I knew getting hurt would make you accept love from your friends, I would've done it sooner," Spencer says.

"If you ever get hurt like this again, I'll never speak to you," you say, bringing his arm to your lips and pressing a kiss to the crook of his elbow.

"Sorry for scaring you."

You lay your cheek on his arm, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "That's okay. That's fine. Wasn't your fault."

Spencer drops his chin to his chest. "Do I look bad from this angle?"

"No. You look just as nice as you always do." Your throat burns with sincerity. You might cry again.

Spencer nods like he's reading something else from what you've said. It's not that you'd meant to imply a double meaning, but he must see on your face how relieved you are, and how terrified you'd been. He brings his hand to your face, ignoring his cannula, to wipe the dried tears from your lashes. "You look pretty, too," he says. "Just don't cry anymore."

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

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yxngbxkkie · 9 months

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ramen in the cold room (h.h)

okay 😭 this is the third time i've written this 😭 tumblr hates me. the sauna video was so cute, and i'm falling deeply into hyune's arms 🥹 i hope you all enjoy this cute little thing 🥰

feedback is greatly appreciated 💓

You stand on your tiptoes, resting your chin against your boyfriend's shoulders. "What are you getting?" You ask him quietly, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Well, angel, I thought we could get some ramen and eat it in the cold room," Hyunjin mentions to you nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" You ask, your eyes widening at his suggestion as you move your body so you're standing beside him. "You want to eat in the cold room? Why?"

Hyunjin laughs embarrassingly, turning his head to look down at you. "I just think it'd be romantic, don't you?" He mutters sweetly.

"It's an idea for sure," you cry a bit while glancing towards said room. You pout your lips as your eyes meet his again. "If I get too cold, can I sit on your lap?"

The black-haired beauty laughs but nods his head in agreement. The two of you decided to go to the nearest sauna place. Hyunjin's been really busy with the other members, and his muscles are starting to ache more and more. You wanted to spend time with him, so you suggested this place, stating that it'd be a cute date.

After he orders the two bowls of ramen, you stand behind him off to the side, tying his hair up in low pigtails. You giggle at how cute he looks and gently massage the back of his head.

Hyunjin hums, leaning into your massaging. One of his arms reaches back to you, feeling his fingers gliding along your hip. "I love you, you know," he sighs before turning his head to look at you.

"I love you too, Hyune," you grin widely, standing on your toes to kiss his lips.

The staff member comes back with your food, handing one to each of you. You both thank the gentlemen before making your way into the ice room.

"You go first," you giggle, stepping aside so Hyunjin can step forward.

"Don't be a baby," he jokes with you, sticking his tongue out. You shake your head as he steps into the glass box. "It's not too bad."

You groan once more before making your way inside. A shiver runs down your spine as you sit down beside him, your thighs touching. "It's a little chilly," you whisper loud enough for him to hear.

Hyunjin watches you as you begin to eat the steaming noodles. He subconsciously mixes his ramen together as he stares, not being able to take his eyes off of you.

You scrunch your face as you shove the noodles past your lips, humming contents at the taste. You quickly take in another batch when you feel Hyunjin's eyes on you. You're in the middle of chewing when you glance up at him.

He smiles at your full cheeks, noodles hanging past your lips as you stare at him so innocently. "You're breathtaking," he tells you, his dark eyes full of love for you.

You can feel the tips of your ears getting warmer. You hope that they're already red from the cold. The two of you have been together for almost a year, and you've never seen him look so… smitten.

"I'm just eating noodles?" You question him, shoving him to the side with your arm.

Hyunjin chuckles and buries his face into your neck. "You're breathtaking twenty-four seven, angel," he kisses your skin.

"Baby," you whine, looking down at his ramen, which is currently getting cold. "Eat first. You can praise me afterward."

You go back to eating your noodles, glancing towards Hyunjin every few seconds. You both eat in silence. The only sound echoing off the walls is your slurping.

"Thank you for doing this with me," Hyunjin mentions suddenly, causing your gaze to move to him again. He finished his bowl and set it down on the bench beside him. "I can see you shivering."

"I'd do anything for you, Hyune," you confess to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I want to fulfill all of your romantic dreams."

He hums, dipping down to kiss the crown of your head. "I am so in love with you," Hyunjin confesses as well, lacing his fingers with yours. "There's nobody better than you, angel."

"Guess you're stuck with me then."

Hyunjin grins ear to ear as you tilt your head up. "I am two hundred percent okay with that," he whispers before kissing your lips.

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @foxinnie8 @moon0fthenight

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luxekook · 1 year

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mine | hjs

❯ pairing: boyfriend!joshua x reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluff, slight crack

❯ summary: your boyfriend is dead-set on distracting you from studying. it's really too bad for your statistics grade that you can never really turn away his affections.

❯ word count: 1.7k

❯ word count: 18+; cursing; dirty talk; basically pwp; reader has breasts and a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; switchy vibes; joshua is a menace; mention of breeding; joshua calls reader a 'good little slut' uwu; one taylor swift reference; smut (fingering, unprotected sex [wrap it folks!], creampie)

He’s staring at you again. You can feel his gaze burning into the spot where your skirt ends and your bare thighs begin. You cross your legs, hoping to jar him out of whatever trance he’s in; yet, the stare just seems to intensify.

“Joshua,” you sigh, tucking your bookmark into the pages of your thick textbook before looking at him. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying,” your boyfriend replies, a smirk curving across his face. “I’m studying you.”

“Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?” You groan, tossing one of your throw pillows in his direction. Of course, Joshua just snatches it right out of the air, his smirk still aimed your way.

“Depends,” his grin widens, “Is it working?”

“No!” You cry, opening your textbook back up, “And if I fail this statistics final, it’s going to be your fault for distracting me, Hong.”

“So I’m distracting?” Joshua stands from his slouched position in your desk chair and moves closer to where you're sitting on your bed. “What’s distracting about me, baby? The way I look at you? Or maybe it's the way I look, hmm? I know you like this top on me.”

He’s crawling across the bed towards you like the demon that he is. And so you open your mouth and say, “Joshua, do I need to get you exorcized? Get out of my bed.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” he mumbles, now close enough to touch. His hand slides up your arm to cup your neck, bringing your head closer to his. “Come on, baby, you need a break.”

Your eyes narrow, “Me? Sounds to me like it's you that's needy, Shua.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, eyes firmly locked on your mouth, “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem. It’s me.”

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Joshua smiles, his eyes crinkling up in that way you just adore. You can’t help but to kiss him.

You feel his smile against your lips, and you huff out a laugh. “Shut up,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles back, still looking too smug about the turn of events. Just for that, you pull farther away and grab your textbook again.

“Baaabe,” Joshua whines, plucking the book from your grasp and tossing it to the other side of the bed. You lunge for it, completely forgetting that you’d lunged right over your boyfriend who now has you firmly in his lap.

“You little shit,” you grumble, knowing there is no hope for you. Joshua’s arms are wrapped around you tightly, his face pressed to the crook of your neck. And you can still feel that goddamn smirk.

“I’d say sorry, but I’m so not sorry,” he grins outright before nipping at the thin skin under your ear.

“Fuck, Shua,” you moan, squirming in his lap, “I really do need to study.” Your boyfriend continues to nibble and kiss your neck. You feel him growing harder underneath you as your hips shift indecisively between grinding down and trying to get away.

“Five minutes,” he murmurs, hands falling to your hips to press you harder against his lap.

“I feel like there’s a joke to be made here,” you reply and then squeak embarrassingly as Joshua’s hand spanks your ass.

“I meant five minutes to make you cum, baby,” Joshua’s dark eyes are locked on yours, “Even if you gave me all night, I still wouldn’t be done with half the things I want to do to you.”

How much do you need statistics again?

“T-tomorrow, Shua,” you gasp, as his clothed cock pushes up against the seam of your panties. The delicious pressure makes you roll your hips faster, craving more of that friction. “Fuck me all day tomorrow after my final. Fuck me until I can’t walk, Joshua. I want that so bad.”

“Fuck me,” Joshua surges forward, kissing you hard. “The things you say with that mouth, baby.” One of his hands slides under your skirt, making its way under your lace panties.

“Touch me, Shua,” you beg, beyond caring at this point, “Please.”

“Hmmm,” he suddenly flips you over on all fours, sliding your panties to the side, “What’s this? Yeah, just as I thought. You’re soaked for me, baby.”

His finger slides into your pussy, slipping right inside given how wet you are. Joshua curses, “Goddamn, my baby wants it so bad, doesn’t she? Dripping everywhere like a good little slut.”

“Harder,” you moan, pushing your hips back onto his finger and urging him to give you more. You need more.

The sting on your ass from his slap is everything. You drop to your elbows, arching your ass higher. “More, Shua, please.”

“My greedy girl.” You can practically hear the grin in his words, but that doesn’t matter as soon as you feel him give you exactly what you ask for. Another finger enters your pussy, fucking you. His thumb swipes against your clit, and you gasp at the jolt of pleasure that runs through you.

“Mmm, you liked that, didn’t you?” Joshua groans behind you, “Think you can take another one? I think you can.”

“Yes, Shua, give it to me,” you arch your back higher, shimmying your hips in his face. He laughs and gives you the spank you clearly were asking for.

Three of his fingers fuck you now, pushing in and out of you. The sounds your pussy makes are obscene, and the gush of liquid around Shua’s fingers is clearly driving him insane as you feel him begin to pant behind you.

“Baby,” he groans, “Why are you so fucking wet? Wanna fuck you so bad, please. Let me give you my cock, (y/n). Let me fuck you til you pass out.”

“Yes,” you cry, “Fuck me, Shua. Now!” All thoughts have clearly left your brain. And it really doesn’t matter because the second you feel Joshua’s cock at the entrance of your pussy you take the reins.

“No,” you turn, pushing Joshua back into the pillows of your bed, “Wanna ride you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grins up at you, “Please do.”

You climb on top of him and slowly lower yourself down onto his cock. You feel your wetness dripping onto him, making his cock slippery. You rock yourself over him, feeling his cock slide between your folds, but never taking him inside.

“(Y/n), baby,” Joshua groans, his head is thrown back, “You’re killing me.”

“Oh,” you giggle, “Sorry, daddy.”

His eyes meet yours immediately, “Don’t start that unless you can finish it, baby.”

Oop. You take the tip of his cock inside you.

“Shit,” he moans, easily distracted. “Keep going, baby, please.”

You take him deeper, inch by inch, at an agonizingly slow pace that has you both panting by the time you're bottomed out. You feel so full, so fucking full like this.

“Love this,” you mumble, squeezing him tighter inside you.

“Fuck,” Joshua moans, his cock twitching inside you, “Don’t do that unless you want me to fucking breed you right now, baby.”

You squeeze him again. Because duh.

You're under him before you can even blink, his hips slamming into yours at a brutal pace. “What did I just say?” Joshua’s forehead pushes against yours, “You never listen, do you, baby? Or is this what you wanted?”

“Is it a crime to want your cum, Shua?” you bite back, your hips meeting each of his thrusts with equal vigor.

“It’s what you wanted,” Joshua smirks, “Baby girl wants my cum? Well then that’s what she’ll get.”

His cock slams into you over and over, hitting that spot inside you just right. You’re a moaning mess under him, barely able to breathe. “Feels so good, Shua.”

“Shit, yeah it does, baby,” Joshua’s hands grip your hips, his lips coming down on yours. You kiss him back with equal vigor, feeling the beginnings of your orgasm sweep up your body. And you can tell Joshua knows it, too. “Yeah, you gonna cum on my cock, baby? Gonna make me lose my mind over how good you grip me? Gonna take my cum from me?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, squeezing down on him and trying to trap him inside. You want his cum inside you more than you need anything else right now. Joshua keeps fucking into you, but not unaffected by the grip you have around him.

“God, your evil fucking pussy,” he groans, “I love it. Gonna make me cum, baby, but not before you.” His hand slides down to play with your clit and his gentle touch mixed with his deep thrusts push you right over the edge.

You scream his name as you come hard around him, muscles spasming around his cock as it continues fucking into you. It’s almost too much and not enough all at once. “Don’t stop, Shua, want your cum,” you cry, arching your back and grinding into him.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips stuttering as he speeds up further still, “Gonna fill up at that pretty little pussy, (y/n). Gonna make you stuffed full of me.”

“Thought my pussy was evil,” you gasp out, hands dragging down his back to pull him closer.

“It’s heaven and hell, sweetheart,” Joshua gasps, dropping his head to your neck. “Now, take my fucking cum.”

You feel him come with a moan. His cum shoots deep inside you, so warm and so much. You squeeze him tight, milking every last drop you can get and holding it there.

He’s a wreck above you, cock still pushing in and out of you trying to push the cum in deeper. Joshua’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat as his eyes squeeze shut. His neck strains with effort until he finally collapses on top of you, cock still firmly nestled inside your slick pussy.

“Damn, baby, I could write songs about that pussy,” he rasps, hands coming around your waist. He snuggles into your chest, a content smile crossing his face.

“What would you name it? ‘Pretty Evil Pussy’?” you laugh, causing him to twitch inside you.

“Nah,” he says, his smile widening against your skin, “I’d call it ‘Mine’.”

an: hope y'all enjoyed the joshua that currently haunts my dreams (pray 4 me)

#joshua x reader #joshua smut #joshua fanfic #joshua seventeen #joshua hong #hong joshua #hong jisoo #joshua imagine #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt imagine #seventeen #svt

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furuyalover · 1 month

Text

4:52 pm

— ft. kuroo tetsurou

includes: a cute lil impromptu study date

it’s april and we all know what that means, finals season. right now it’s just you, your laptop, numerous papers and notebooks, and an iced matcha latte enveloping you in the cozy cafe atmosphere. you’re trying study for your calculus test tomorrow and you’re pretty focused, for the most part.

about ten minutes ago you glance up from your studies where you notice a familiar face across the cafe, kuroo tetsurou. while you’re decently close with your classmate and you’ve made conversation with him numerous times, you figured both of you are too busy with your work for you to approach him right now. however you can’t seem to get the striking captain out of your head. you’ve always had an admiration for him but some would say it’s more like a crush… so after a solid 15 minutes of pretending to do work and pondering what to do, you finally decide to maybe shoot him a text!

y/n: hey am i tripping or is there an obnoxious volleyball player studying across from me?

kuroo: obnoxious is a strong word 😒 u also studying for the calc test? 😭

y/n: kind of …. not doin too hot rn

kuroo: oh well you’re in luck then

and just like that you glance up from your screen and notice him begin to gather his things and make his way towards you. the middle blocker plops himself down on a seat next to you and begins unpacking his bag. “don’t worry princess im here to save you from your calc demons.” your flutters a little at the sudden nickname, but you keep your composure with a quick retort “ok woah im not doing THAT bad.” “then why is your study guide blank?” damn, he got you there. “whatever you gonna help me or what?” since he’s a man of his word he opens his notebook helping you review what you’ve learned these past classes, and working you through each problem better than khan academy ever could. he’s concise but sweet, making sure to comfort you every time you’re overwhelmed or not sure how to solve a problem. you’ve never seen this side of him, you’re used to dealing with his cockiness and sarcasm and this caring demeanor is something new to you.

but just like that an hour and a half has gone by and you’ve both successfully gotten through all your homework! where did all the time go? you wondered to yourself. embarrassingly, you’re kind of upset that you’re study sesh has come to an end. you’ve always wanted to go out with kuroo outside of class, and this is the closest you’re ever gonna get to that. “oh well all good things must come to an end” kuroo says, almost defeated you thank him for all his help while you start packing your things.

“actually wait before you go,” you stop what you’re doing to look up at him, wondering what he possibly need. surely he’s just gonna ask about something from class right? wrong. hes flustered. almost red even. scratching the back of his neck he finally looks at you and says “i really enjoyed hanging out with you, and i just wondered if you wanted to do this again sometime?” you’ve never seen him so nervous before, so you let out a small smile with a slightly confused look on your face. “what, like study?” your smile ends up giving him reassurance and just like that his confident demeanor is back. he grabs your hand and says “well that’d be a pretty boring date don’t ya think?” grinning before placing a chaste kiss on your hand.

you look down to try and hide the rosy blush that now plastered your face (too late he already saw it). flustered by his sudden advance you look up and match his confidence arrogance with your own. “alright then, but if i don’t get an A on this test im rejecting you”

“oh like that’s ever gonna happen” you roll your eyes, but he has a point.

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

AN: ahhh this was so fun to write <3 love love loveee writing some friends/classmates to lovers drabbles !! hope u guys enjoyed this lil piece i whipped up :)

#game time!#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo testurou drabbles #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsurou headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq headcanons #hq x reader #hq fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou hcs #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo imagine

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remusslove · 1 year

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no because i am begging to see your take on james being edged for hours and then they finally let him cum like 🦋🦋🦋

I am frothing at the mouth

“Mommy please! Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m gonna-” he moaned bucking his hips up wildly as you jerked him off. You harshly took your hand off and gave him a slap to the face. He yelped as tears streamed down his face.

“Please mama, can’t take it anymore” he whimpered before hiding his face in your chest. Your smirked at his fucked out state. “Fine. Your lucky Remus is gonna come any minute.” Your words made him gasp through whines of overstimulation.

His wide eyes made contact with your shit eating grin. “R-remy is gonna come back?” He asked with a slight stutter as you wrapped your hand around his throat. “Yeah. So we could keep going until your cum and get caught by Remus. Or you could not cum until tonight.” You suggested making him shake his head to the last option.

“No! Please keep going! Need to cum mommy please!” He sounded almost like a girl with how high pitched his voice was. You couldn’t blame the poor boy, you’ve been edging him for almost an hour. God knows how much he hates edging.

Which is why it only happens when he’s been really really bad. And it is why his hands are each tied on the other side of the bed. Today he cursed at you more than a few times and didn’t apologize. He really tested his limits tonight when he talked back even after he was bent over your lap.

You squeezed his cock again making him mewl and fall back onto the mattress. You swiped his tip and used the beads of precum to wet his needy cock. The poor thing was all hard and red begging for release.

A few minutes later he was fighting against the restrains wanting to hug you as he came. “Mommy yes! Love you so much! Thank you!” He blabbered out words of gratitude towards you without shame.

Your eyebrows raised in amusement hearing the words coming out of his mouth. “Oh really? Gonna be a good boy for mommy now?” You teased. “Mhm! Gonna be the best boy!” He mewled feeling the knot in his stomach tighten even harder than before.

He let out a scream bordered on a moan as ropes of cum shot out of his cock. He painted softly little whines coming out every time. You chuckled placing a kiss on his forehead. You laid down next to him. He instinctively hugged you placing one of his legs on top of yours.

The door opened making the sub gasp and cover himself with the blanket. “Don’t worry jamie, I waited till you guys were done. Mommy did a number on you hm?” Remus asked giving the boy a wink. James blushed embarrassingly but giving him a nod.

#dom!reader #dom reader #sub!james #sub James #sub!james potter #sub James potter #sub!james!potter #sub!jamespotter

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Note

Okay so one, love your writing literally sm

Two, imagine being best friends with simpbur and heading to his place after a shitty date and he’s all like “hey, hey, it’s okay.. I can take care of you”

And yk.. it can lead to whatever!

- 💤 anon(?)

“I Can Take Care Of You”

Simpbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Really soft fluffy sex, Soft/ServiceDom!Simpbur

Thank you so much, new 💤anon! I’m a sucker for the ‘best friend helps you after a bad date/breakup’ trope, so thank you for fulfilling my little writer heart <3

Fic below cut!

“What’s wrong?” Wilbur says, frantically running up to me. “What happened?”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my bare arms from the night chill. “That’s the last time I accept a ride from a guy I’m going on a first date with.”

“Who am I beating up?” He asks, brows knitting in concern as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders. “Did he do anything?”

Shaking my head, I let Wilbur lead me to his car, letting a sigh of relief as he buckles me into the front seat and I hear the front doors lock. “Tried to get me to go home with him, and doesn’t like being told no. Got out before he tried anything, but yikes.”

He cranks the heat, a wave of warmth washing over me as I snuggle into his jacket. “That bastard,” he sighs. “Thank you for calling me.”

“You’ve always been there for me,” I murmur affectionately, resting my head on Wilbur’s shoulder and breathing in his comforting scent, the same cologne and shampoo he’s used since I’ve known him. “Did I interrupt your evening?”

Snorting, Wilbur puts a loose arm around my shoulders. “Oh, definitely. A very exciting evening of shitty TV movies and frozen pizza. Care to join me, now that your plans have, uh, changed?”

“Absolutely,” I nod. “Mind lending me some of your clothes when we get to yours?”

“No problem,” he replies, backing out of the parking spot. “Might even dig some ice cream out of the freezer, too.”

“His number is blocked?” Wilbur asks as we head up the staircase to his apartment.

“Blocked it while planning my escape,” I laugh, tugging off my heels and carrying them up with me. “God, why did I wear heels on a date with a guy who’s barely 5 foot tall?”

Giggling, Wilbur unlocks his door. “He’s not worth your heels, princess.” He’s always called me princess, and recently, it had started sending heat between my thighs each time his British accent cooed it at me. “Right, let’s get you changed, and I just bought one of those veggie pizzas you like, want me to throw that in the oven?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I groan. “We didn’t even get to appetizers before I had to run, and I’m running off a vodka soda.”

He preheats the oven, yanking open the cupboard and tossing me my favorite crisps. “Go grab one of my hoodies and some sweats from my room, and I’ll get this ready for us, ok?”

Nodding, I shove a handful of crisps in my mouth on the way to his room, opening the door and sighing at the familiar sight. I’d often teased Wilbur for being a slob, his room covered in clothes and empty mugs, but right now, there was nothing more I wanted to see.

I tug off my dress, replacing it with one of his massive hoodies and an even baggier pair of sweatpants, his softest socks covering my feet. In his bathroom, I use his face wash to wash off my makeup, patting on some lotion and grabbing a stray rubber band to wrap my hair in a bun.

“There we go,” Wilbur says, smiling as I walk back in, munching on the crisps. “That’s the girl I’m more used to.”

I look down at my shapeless clothes, messy hair, and crisp crumbs stick to my lips. “What do you mean?”

“As much as you look amazing in a dress and heels, I love seeing the real you shine through. Wearing my clothes, using a rubber band as a hair tie.”

I’m not even sure how to respond to such a compliment, so I don’t. I just accept a can of soda and an outstretched arm, snuggling into his chest as he tosses a blanket over our laps. “Pizza’s in the oven, it won’t be too long,” he murmurs. “You feeling ok after your night?”

Embarrassingly, tears bubble in the corner of my eyes, and I try and sniff them back before Wilbur sees, but he wipes them away before I can turn away. “What’s with the tears?” he whispers, pulling me into his lap.

“I’m just sick of shitty dates with shitty guys,” I admit, wiping my eyes on his tshirt. “All I want is someone who knows me inside and out, loves me for who I am, and is good in bed. No, scratch that, someone who’s mediocre in bed, since apparently my standards are too high.”

Surprisingly, Wilbur brushes his lips against my cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I can take care of you.”

“W-what do you mean?” I whisper, heart pounding, hoping I didn’t mishear him.

“I know you sing in the shower, how you like the burnt bits on pizza, and that you feed all the stray cats behind your apartment because you feel bad they have to sleep in the rain,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I’ve held your hair back while you’re throwing up in my bathroom after getting wine-drunk, I know the brand of tampons you like, and where you hide your vibrator.”

“You know where I hide my-?”

Wilbur presses a finger onto my lips. “Shush. I’m not done. That’s two out of three of your standards I’ve knocked out of the park.”

“What about the last one?” I challenge, face in a red flush just from the thought.

“Do you want me to tell you, or show you?” He smirks, hand fluttering on my thigh.

“Show me.”

From how flirty his words had been, I was expecting his lips to crash unceremoniously into mine, but that wasn’t the case. Wilbur was soft, gentle, and sweet, running his tongue across my lower lip before sliding it into the kiss. One of his hands rubs at the nape of my neck, the other stroking the curve of my waist under the hoodie, and I absolutely melt into his touch.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he sighs, barely pulling back enough to get the words out. “Mmm.”

I giggle, nibbling on his lower lip. “I didn’t know you were such a good kisser.”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Wilbur whispers in my ear, leaving a hickey just behind my ear. “You want me to show you some, baby?”

“Please,” I whine, tugging on the waistband off his sweats to try and free the growing bulge. “Show me, Wilbur.”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he chides, sliding two fingers into the band of my sweatpants. “Can I take these off?”

I nod, reaching down for my hem of his hoodie as he tugs off my sweats. “How long have you wanted to do this for?”

“Longer than I’d like to admit,” he says. “But I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

I smile. “Same here.”

We both stare at each other in the dim light, him panting over my almost-naked body.

“Please let me ruin it now,” he groans, rubbing himself between my thighs.

I grind back, both of us letting out high pitched whines. “Ask me that after I see how good that dick is.”

Wilbur pulls back for a moment, tugging down the front of his pants, the leaking length springing up and hitting his lower stomach.

“Of course you have a fucking huge dick,” I groan, making him snort. “My best friend of all these years has somehow managed to hide that from me.”

He leans down, pressing his shaft onto the wet spot on my panties. “And I can assure you that it feels even better.”

I tug my panties down my legs. “That’s two things you have to prove tonight, Wilbur. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Do you want me to use a condom?” Wilbur asks, brows knitted in concern.

I shake my head. “I’m on birth control, and we all know neither of us have slept with anyone else in ages.”

“Sounds good to me,” he says softly, working me open with his fingers. “Tell me if I’m going too fast, it hurts, you’re uncomfortable, or-“

Kissing his forehead, I tilt Wilbur’s head back to look him in the eye. “Wilbur. You’re worrying.”

“How did you know I was worrying?”

“Your forehead always crinkles when you worry,” I say. “Relax. I promise. We both want this.”

He sighs. “I just want to make this perfect for you. You deserve it. You deserve the world.”

“You’re already making it perfect,” I reply, stroking my hand down his bare back. “Just be gentle, ok?”

“Anything,” he breathes. “For you.”

Wilbur pushes himself inside me gently, so gently, kissing me all over my face as I adjust to the feeling. One hand squeezes my hip, the other stroking the bare skin at my waist.

“I’m so full,” I groan out, wrapping my legs around Wilbur’s waist to tug him deeper. “Oh, God.”

He smiles, licking a stripe up my neck as we start to move together, finding a smooth, rocking rhythm.

“Mmm, we feel so good together, princess,” he praises, hooking one of my legs over his shoulders to hit me even harder. “You’re so wet.”

I’m surprised he’s touching me in all the right places, since from my past experiences, most guys aren’t exactly adept. But Wilbur was. Incredibly, in fact, not just shoving my own pleasure aside to get himself off.

Kisses turn into nibbles, nibbles turn into bites, and bites turn into Wilbur fully sinking his teeth into my lower lip, muffling the moan that threatens to spill out. His hand slides from my waist to my chin, tilting my face into our slightly sloppy kiss.

“Still ok?” He whispers, pulling back for a moment to gaze in my eyes. “I’m not hurting you?”

I shake my head, pecking him on the mouth. “Quite the opposite. You’re quite adept with that cock of yours.”

Laughing, Wilbur nibbles another hickey onto my neck. “I try my best, love.”

We stop talking for awhile after that, preferring to let our bodies do the talking.

“Oh, Wilbur, I’m close,” I cry out, knees shaking, nails digging into his back. I’m impressed how long we’ve both been lasting, but I’m not sure either of us can keep going forever. “Fuck.”

Wilbur groans, biting his lip with the effort to keep going for me. “Where… where can I cum?” He pants.

“Inside… please,” I manage to reply, almost screaming out as he reaches up and presses on my clit. I melt into the couch, tightening around him as my high slams into me, Wilbur right behind me a few seconds later, finishing deep inside me with a loud moan.

We’re both silent, panting in the aftermath, only being interrupted by the sudden beep of the oven timer.

“Pizza’s ready,” Wilbur deadpans, making me crack up. “Hungry?”

“Starved,” I sigh. “Cardio will do that to you.”

#princesswrites #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #simpbur #simpbur smut #bursona smut #bursonas #bursona #mcyt x female reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #💤 anon

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echos-gal · 1 month

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ok i'm rapidly losing hope that Tech is still alive, and this sucks because it was basically the top thing i desperately wanted from this season. i wanted to see him survive. so here's my exhaustive and embarrassingly long list of reasons why he SHOULD still be alive, and if he isn't, why it was a missed opportunity. obviously no hate to the writers or anything, i love them dearly for creating this show!!!

(if you're a "Tech should stay dead for the stakes/so someone in SW stays dead for once/i hate delusional Tech stans" person, kindly keep scrolling, this ain't for you)

SEASON 2:

right from the start, Romar connects with Tech and calls himself "a survivor." HELLO???

in this same arc, Tech breaks his leg in a fall which he survives. he continues to walk on it, fighting off troopers to save Echo & Omega, showcasing his persistence and grit.

one of Phee's first lines is "better late than dead," and we know she shares a connection with Tech. she flirts with him later in this scene. it would be a shame not to reuse this line, i'm just saying....

Cid still owes Tech for racing for her in Faster. we see Cid looking miserable as she betrays the batch in Plan 99, so her playing a part in his rescue/comeback would be a nice way to show her growth. (i'm afraid there isn't enough time for this, though- as much as i thought a Cid redemption was on the horizon!)

Phee and Tech's departure is awkward, and although we have some context from season 3 (they talked more than we realized), the scene would do best if reconciled in person imo. it felt like it was setting up for something, and feels weird to leave hanging.

"don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers" could not have just been a throw away line. it set up for him to do exactly that. how fitting would it be if pirates or smugglers actually did manage to pick him up before the empire made it to the railcar crash site?

Hemlock's retrieval of the goggles shows that he sent a team to look through the wreckage. he thought there was a chance Tech survived, and may have him.

i won't go into the logistics, but big falls ARE survivable. in star wars especially. we have no idea what was below the layer of clouds/mist Tech fell through.

SEASON 3:

this is mostly CX-2 centric. their armor is very similar: the jaw/mouth shape, the hexagons over the ears, the rectangles on the chest, and the pouches/pockets.

"domicile." that is all.

CX-2 uses technology more than the other operatives we've seen, and he gets past the encryption on Phee's ship with ease.

"who are you?" was enunciated in the exact same way Tech says it to Trace and Rafa, which i definitely think was intentional.

CX-2 stops to use his rifle scope in the exact same spot where Tech and Phee stood to let down the ladders in the sea surge on Pabu.

he survives a waterfall plunge on Teth, which appears to have fooled Rex's group into thinking he'd died. the writers could have killed him off there and sent a new operative, but they chose to stick with CX-2 pursuing them to Pabu.

it's worth noting that while this CX is designated as "2," Tech's CT number is CT-9902. he is associated with the number even on a visual level: he's a dual-wielder, he wears goggles, he salutes with two fingers.

FROM A STORY PERSPECTIVE:

firstly, i am sorry and i LOVE the writers, but if you want people to accept a character's death, you've got to show his family and friends' grief. we saw no reaction from Crosshair or Phee, no tears from Hunter or Echo. it feels like fans were sadder about Tech's death than the characters in the story.

Tech seems to have been mentioned more in the second half of season 3 than the first half, which works if they want to bring him back in the finale.

the finale is called "The Cavalry Has Arrived." i really don't think you can have the cavalry (aka the bad batch) arrive without every member present. i also don't think it would feel right to play their theme without Tech there. idk, that feels incomplete!

we saw no body, and Hunter received Tech's goggles not from a trusted ally or friend, but from Hemlock. this calls into question the legitimacy of his claim that the goggles were "all he could salvage."

Tech alive and being held on Tantiss would provide a nice parallel to Echo in the first mission where we meet the batch, in TCW. and [ep 14 SPOILERS] we see that Echo is currently looking more like his TCW self, with his earpiece removed.

feels kinda sour that a character who a lot of people related to as neurodivergent representation would die just a few episodes after having a deep conversation with his sister about it.

likewise (and as a white woman i can't speak for WOC), from what i have seen, Black women are rarely the main love interest of a series! Phee is the ONLY love interest in this whole show, and it would suck to just cut off that romance before it could really become something. a lot of people wanted to see TechPhee become canon.

CX-2 is the one who destroys the marauder. it works well storywise for its pilot to have been the one to do that- the person who worked so hard modifying it, flying it, and teaching his sister to fly it. i'll be lowkey pissed if it turns out some random dude blew it up.

it's also CX-2 who invades and sets fire to Pabu. this is emotionally gripping on its own, but if he is Tech, it's even more so.

we have no idea what the operatives go through. Crosshair isn't telling, but it clearly put him in a really bad place. if Tech underwent this conditioning in his post-fall injured state, there's a chance he could come back from it. Emerie is probably the key to this, if they take the CX-2 route.

this show is all about a family trying to stay together as the Empire desperately tries to rip them apart. seeing the whole family together again - even if not everyone survives - in the finale is the satisfaction that the show ideally would go for. the last time they were all together was the season 1 finale. that was about 2 years ago in the show's timeline.

leaving Crosshair and Tech's final interactions be where they parted on the Kamino platform also feels off. Tech was the one who really vocalized the need to rescue Crosshair in season 2's finale. Crosshair, in the meantime, has changed significantly as a person. Tech's comment about Crosshair being "severe and unyielding," and unable to change this facet of his nature, is incorrect. leaving Tech dead would mean that he never gets to see this change in Crosshair, which makes me feel like a deflated balloon.

FROM MY SELFISH PERSPECTIVE!!!

give me Tech with cool scars and slightly disheveled longer hair. this is such a good opportunity for the creators to give him a sweet new look!

we never got to see Tech without his goggles on, despite Phee constantly referring to his eyes. he definitely doesn't have them right now (they're in the Archium), so we could get Mister Big Brown Eyes if he's alive. it's another missed opportunity if not, imo!

the goggles being placed in the Archium was a beautiful scene that makes me tear up whenever i think about it. it's symbolic, it's bittersweet, and it's exactly where the goggles belong. but was it closure for me? not really.

Tech is a character who became a LOT of people's favorite in season 2, including my own. why kill off a fan-favorite with an entire season to go?

yes, i desperately want a Rex and Echo series. yes, i want the batch to cameo in it, and yes... that includes Tech. making up for lost season 3 Tech content 😎

the finale will feature the zillo beast, and Tech loves the zillo beast. FREE HER! REUNITE THEM! he would love to witness her rampage.

FROM A "SURPRISE!!!!!" PERSPECTIVE

it seems like most people think Tech is either CX-2 or dead. it would be a great finale twist if we DID get CX-2's identity, it's NOT Tech, the audience loses hope, and then he shows up. i think this is actually plausible given the other assassin schematics Hemlock was looking at in Point of No Return. Tech might be in Hemlock's grasp, but not an active operative. having an enhanced clone to toy with is something Hemlock would want to keep under wraps. we see him step out of the assassin chamber at the start of that episode - if Tech is anywhere on Tantiss, i think it's here.

i think the writers have expected us to have all lost hope by now, so his finale reappearance would ideally come as a shock. the finale is almost guaranteed to be a very long episode, so we really might have quite a bit of time to explore his return, if it happens.

secret 16th episode: i know, i'm putting my clown makeup on as i type this. but the previous 2 seasons each had 16 episodes, with a two-parter finale. season 3 is just 15, with a single episode finale. TBB formally ends may 1st, so what if we get a may 4th surprise episode detailing how Tech survived? (that or an epilogue leading into a new series, which i think is more likely actually!)

#i definitely forgot some points but i just need to post this and be done with it #feel free to add your own observations 👀#tbb tech #the bad batch #tech lives #techphee #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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mcflymemes · 5 months

Text

PROMPTS FROM LOVE ACTUALLY * assorted dialogue from the 2003 film, adjust as necessary

it’s the saddest part of my day, leaving you.

if you look for it, i’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.

i could just have him murdered.

thank you, i’ll think about it.

ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away.

to me, you are perfect.

can you give me any clues at all?

well the truth is… actually… i’m in love.

i really want to know.

there’s nothing i can do about it.

i thought it would be something worse.

tell her that you love her.

okay, that sounds fine. bit boring, but fine.

that sounds so bizarre.

that is genuinely bad timing.

american girls would seriously dig me with my cute british accent.

they've done it. it's official.

this is shit, isn't it?

i was hoping you'd win.

christmas is for people with someone they love in their lives.

so... what's this big news then?

it was always going to be a total shit time.

oh, don't be disgusting. get out of my house.

look at the sign on the door.

you’ll always regret it if you don’t.

well, this is a surprise.

has it been a good visit?

we got what we came for.

you never talk to me. you don’t like me.

you can just show yourself out, can’t you?

do you think everybody knows?

tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do?

would you wait around to find out?

oh god, i am so in the wrong.

you’ve also made a fool out of me.

ask me anything you like. i’ll tell you the truth.

god, i wish you hadn’t turned that down.

shit, i can’t believe i just said that.

basically, you’re fucked, aren’t you?

this is shit, isn’t it?

where the fuck is my fucking coat?

thank you very much, but no.

actually, i was being serious.

it would be great if we could be friends.

it’s a terrible, terrible mistake.

you’re not who i think you are, are you?

who do you have to screw around here to get a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit?

i will miss you. and your very slow typing. and your very bad driving.

i’ll give you anything you ask for, as long as it’s not something i don’t want to give.

i’m very busy and important. how can i help you?

oh, shut your face.

actually, i don’t have to go.

true love lasts a lifetime.

so what’s this big news, then?

life is full of interruptions and complications.

oh no. that is so inconvenient.

i very much like the look of you.

send an embarrassingly big car and i’ll be there!

i never asked you how your love life is going.

the thing about romance is… people only get together right at the very end.

look at the sign on the door!

loitering around the jewelry section, i see!

a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

i think you’re not surprised.

oh my god, i’ve got a terrible stomach ache.

how will you be celebrating?

all i want for christmas is you.

you would have broken my heart if you’d said yes.

the nurses are trying to kill me.

are you sure you don’t mind me going without you?

i love you even when you’re sick and look disgusting.

did i mention that i love you?

i look quite pretty.

no one’s ever going to shag you if you cry all the time.

hello. i heard you were gorgeous.

i’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, hoping to be kissed.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mcflymemes #love actually

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replaytech · 11 days

Text

okay just imagine hunter teaching you how to throw knives😫🤝

tbb hunter x female!reader (warnings: use of a weapon)

You were grateful that hunter hasn’t noticed you staring at him yet.

You had been watching him for a few minutes. You couldn’t help it. The sight of him throwing his knives and hitting the targets perfectly was… well, to be blunt, hot.

He throws another knife and hits the dot that he had drawn earlier, “You see something you like?”

His back is still turned, but you know that he’s talking to you, “I hate it when your super tingle snitches on me.”

He lets out a half laugh, half scoff and looks at you, “My super tingle?”

You give him a serious nod, “Yes.”

He turns away from you to grab his blades from the trees, “Are you just gonna stand there or let me teach you how to throw?”

You snort, “Thanks, but I’m more of a blaster girl.”

Hunter flips the knife in his hand, “What? Afraid you’ll be bad at it in front of me?”

You roll your eyes, “Oh please, I could do this easily.”

He continues walking towards you with a small smirk plastered on his face, “And you say i’m the one with an ego problem.”

You hold your hand out, “Let me see one”, you gesture to the blades.

He starts to give you one but retracts his hand, “Not so fast.”

You put your hands on your hips, “Oh here we go.”

“Your patience and positive attitude isn’t like any i’ve ever seen.”

You laugh and playfully hit his shoulder, “Shut up, hunter.”

He chuckles and goes to stand behind you, “Here, show me how you hold it before you throw”, he gives you a knife.

As you hold the weapon, you’re hyper aware of hunters presence behind you. He’s so close that you can practically feel his armor on your back.

His hands go in front of you to adjust your form. All you can do is watch what he’s doing.

Hunter speaks low next to your ear, “There you go, hold it just like that.”

He moves his left arm to your shoulder and keeps his right on your throwing arm, mimicking the throwing motions, “Make sure not to release too early or too late. Too early will make the throw too high and too late will make it hit the ground”, he says with his armor fully touching your back.

You swallow and nod, embarrassingly affected by how close he is, “Got it.”

You feel hunters lips come close to your ear, “What, princess? Am I making you nervous?”

You scoff and try to sound as confident as you can, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Unfortunately, he steps away from you, “Try it by yourself.”

You try to remember everything he told you as you hurl the knife at the tree, missing the target by about a foot.

“Not bad, for an amateur anyway.”

You scoff, “Hunter isn’t impressed with me, whatever will I do?”, you deadpan.

He walks towards you and looks down at you, “Don’t tell me you missed on purpose so I would help you again.”

You nod, “Yep. My heart longs for your sweaty glove hand to rub all over my forearm again.”

“They aren’t that sweaty.”

“It feels like you dipped both of my arms in the river.”

He laughs softly and looks you in the eye, “Well maybe I want to help you again.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “I guess.”

“Woah now, don’t sound too excited.”

You laugh as he moves behind you to help again, “Last time you relied too much on your wrist. Use your arm instead, like this”, he moves your arm with his.

He lets go of you so you can try again on your own. This time, you actually hit the target.

“Atta girl.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, “Are you intimidated? I might best you in our next mission.”

Hunter laughs, “I’ll have to keep having these sessions with you if you want those results.”

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ssspideysense · 3 months

Text

₊˚ෆ bad habits

summary: peter tends to act on impulse — that’s what got him here in the first place.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: fluff, pining, peter’s a hopeless romantic

wc: 2.7k

What makes something a bad habit?

People usually use the phrase when they mean too much of something— too much coffee in the morning, too many cigarettes a day, too much to drink on the weekends. Overindulgence. Lack of self control.

Peter thought about this as he waited, the skin-tight material of his suit doing absolutely nothing to block the chilling rain running down his back. Past the city lights glimmering against her window pane, the apartment inside was dimly lit. He could make out the splash of colors against the hallway from the living room TV. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep on the couch again— she had a bad habit of staying up too late, biting off more than she could chew most nights and paying for it a few hours later. He wondered briefly, and hoped a bit selfishly, that he maybe had something to do with that.

He knocked again. Louder, in a little rhythm— bum ba bum, bum ba bum.

No more than once a week. That’s how it started out, however many months ago, when he crawled through that window for the first time. Swinging by more than one night a week would be way too much. He had things to do, really, and so did she. It wasn’t realistic to expect her to wait around, twiddling her pretty little thumbs, keeping her schedule free for a chance to let him into her bedroom window at 12:17 am.

12:18 am.

12:19 am.

Peter shivered. The cold had started to seep into his skin, but the chill that ran up and down his spine wasn’t from the sudden downpour.

Even the glimpse of her figure, a dark silhouette he could pick out in any city crowd, was enough to set off that tingle in the base of his skull, even for just a moment. He watched her scurry over to the window, an apologetic look tugging on her face.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you,” she said, and her voice was music slipping over the smack of raindrops against the iron fire escape, “oh my God, get in here, will you?”

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Sometimes he was grateful for the mask and the few freedoms it allowed him—

“Wait here.”

—she couldn’t see the way his entire face lit up as he happily maneuvered through the window, or the way his eyes followed her as she wandered over to her linen closet to grab a towel for him.

Peter stood in a puddle on her hardwood. Obedient, embarrassingly so.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked. In the relative dark of her quiet bedroom, she handed him the towel, gazing up at him with the kind of eyes that make poets pick up pens.

“I should probably be saying yes, since it’s midnight, but I’m going to be disappointing and say no,” she chuckled under her breath and took a small step back.

Peter wrapped the towel around his shoulders like a kid getting out of the pool. It smelled like her laundry detergent, a scent he never thought he’d catch himself daydreaming about when he was miles away and objectively much busier with something much more pressing.

He had a bad habit of letting his mind wander, especially when it wanted to grip onto memories of her.

“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” he replied.

She sent him a pointed look with a raised brow. “And so are you, when you wake up sick. What the hell are you doing? Does the song Itsy Bitsy Spider not ring a bell?”

She fussed over him. He liked it when she fussed over him.

“Yeah, y’know, the part where he climbs up the spout again is my favorite, actually.”

There was a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie thrown at him before he could even pretend to argue against them.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, gliding away, leaving him to drip quietly in her bedroom as he watched her back disappear down the hall.

“Decaf?” he called after her.

“Do you really want decaf?” she called right back.

She’d slipped from view, little clinks and clunks from the kitchen catching his ears. Peter shrugged the towel from his shoulders and started to peel his suit off. It’d become a second skin, literally and figuratively, clinging to every inch of him, making him shudder as the warmth of her apartment replaced the cold wrap of wet spandex.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, bug— trying to be more health conscious this year,” Peter replied with a grin. In reality, he knew she’d be up all night and woefully exhausted the next day if she got her hands on some regular coffee, so he’d gladly take one for the team with decaf.

He stood at the foot of her bed in his boxers, looking down at the change of clothes she insisted upon him.

It was strange, the way Peter was utterly exposed like this, not even behind a closed door for a breath of privacy, but it didn’t bother him. The suit and the mask sat in a heap next to her radiator and it didn’t matter. He pulled the comfortable cotton up to his hips and slipped the hoodie over his head.

Soft, warm, foreign yet familiar all at once.

He heard her footsteps, heard them pause at the mouth of the hallway. The gut-drop feeling of meeting her gaze unobstructed, bare-faced and messy haired, wasn’t the same as it was the first time. Or the second, or third— she knew his face just as well as he knew hers at this point. Anxiety faded over time, replaced with a new, giddy sort of rush that started in his chest and spread over his body in waves.

She made him feel like a teenager again, and she didn’t even have to do anything. It was a little pathetic, maybe, how much he looked forward to these kinds of nights, but he’d ruminate about that later in the quiet of his bed.

Peter padded his way down the hall to her, moving through the space like he belonged there. He took in her small smile as she leaned back against the kitchen island. The smell of coffee hit him once the machine started to gurgle softly on the counter.

“Are you still cold? I can crank up the heat,” she offered as he drew closer. Her gaze fell on his mouth then— more specifically, the cut on his bottom lip. A little hiss escaped her as she reached up and brushed her thumb beside it.

He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression, watching her brows furrow down as she examined his face.

“No, it’s fine. I’m already walking around in your clothes, waiting on a cup of your coffee. I feel like a Tinder date that’s vastly overstayed his welcome, and I just got here,” Peter quipped, letting her turn his head by his jaw and study him some more. Her soft fingers caught his stubble but she didn’t seem to mind.

She arched a brow at him and eventually pulled her hand back. “I’ve never had a Tinder date crawl into my eighth-story window before.”

“I’m not really an expert on romance, but something tells me that’s a good thing.”

Her hum was low as she turned and gathered two mugs from the cupboard above her. “Tinder isn’t exactly the place to look for romance anyway, Spidey,” she sat them down with a clink.

Spidey.

He’d chosen to start with his face last summer. A bold choice, truly, but it felt like the safer option at the time. There was eight million people in New York— a couple thousand guys were bound to look just like him.

A face without a name was the tiniest breadcrumb he could drop to satiate that need, that desire to feel seen by her in some capacity without completely laying himself out there.

It was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. But she played along well, stumbling in the dark with him and letting him lead, however awkward and shaky.

Peter leaned against the counter and watched her pour two cups. “It’s not? I’m not really in the dating scene. Do people still meet out in the wild these days?”

And she gave him that little chuckle under her breath he liked. “You sound old,” she mused as she reached into her fridge. The pale light bathed her in a sweet, domestic sort of glow that one could only feel in sweatpants in the kitchen after midnight.

“Hey— I’m only twenty-six,” he countered, dipping his head despite the little grin growing on his face.

He watched her pause, just for a moment.

Another breadcrumb. A thread.

But she didn’t draw too much attention to it. Peter pictured her tucking it away for future reference.

“Well, to answer your question, yes. I guess people do still meet out in the wild,” she poured the creamer and scooped the sugar and reminded him that she knew so much about him without really knowing him, not yet, and he both loved and hated that, “but I’m probably not the best person to ask about all that. I think if a man randomly approached me in a bookstore or something, I’d probably assume he was some kind of weirdo.”

Peter hummed, his brow furrowed but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. His fingers were cold when he gently accepted the drink from her.

“Alright, noted. What about guys that fall out of the sky and crash into your fire escape?”

He peered at her over the top of the mug as he took the longest, hottest drink of his life— anything to avoid the reality of what he just said for a few moments longer.

His throat burned, but it was fine.

The air felt heavier then, thick like the air outside as her gaze flicked over his face.

“That depends. Is he kind of awkward in a weirdly charismatic way?”

And Peter swallowed down the lava for a chance at a deeper breath without choking, “I mean— in this completely hypothetical and improbable scenario, yeah, I’d— I’d say so,” he replied.

The corners of her mouth curled up softly. “And did he come back a week later, trying to apologize with four different types of candy at ten o’clock at night?”

He cleared his throat to try and hide the chuckle that almost slipped out. “He didn’t know what kind you liked,” Peter said, that heat trickling up to his face for a different reason.

She blew on her coffee before sipping it, because she clearly had more sense than he did, and shrugged.

“Helping you out with a broken nose and a concussion makes for a more interesting story to look back on,” she replied softly.

This line they were toeing was a tightrope, strung high and taught and delicate.

Sometimes Peter wanted to take the leap. Just dive right onto the other side, tugging her along with him.

The clock on the stove read 12:37.

12:38.

“Do you think about it? The night we met?”

And she sat her mug down on the counter beside her. The sweater she wore was loose and comfortable on her frame as she crossed her arms. “Sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

“Do you?” she countered, tilting her head just a bit to the side as she gazed up at him.

Peter leaned back. His mug was empty, the roof of his mouth was a bit sore, but he swallowed regardless. “I do, sometimes.”

“Just sometimes?”

The rain outside picked up. It smacked against her windows with the whistle of wind just underneath it all.

“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep. I’m usually thinking about the last time I saw you, though. Much clearer picture there,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and looked off to the side, though her soft, slight smile cut the air of annoyance she tried to hold on to.

“Stop,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “that’s not fair.” He had a feeling he knew what she meant— and he had to agree, watching her avoid his gaze.

Peter reached a hand out to pull her arms out of their closed off, crossed position. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she was soft, pliable, letting him grasp her wrists and guide her forward gently into his torso.

He wrapped around her, his nose in her hair, committing the scent of her shampoo to memory.

“I know,” he mumbled back.

She was quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest in that borrowed hoodie she thought he looked criminally good in. After a few moments of his fingers lightly tracing shapes between her shoulder blades, she sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair, either, Spidey.” And she was right again.

He had a bad habit of trying to fix everything.

“Peter,” he said, his voice low against her roots, “it’s Peter.”

The wind shook the windows. She was nearly laying on him with how he held her, his long frame leaned back, arms circled around her shoulders. His breath came in calculated waves, but she could feel the rhythm changing the longer she stayed silent, along with his heartbeat under her ear.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out.

“Peter,” she tried it out, and it felt like hearing her voice for the first time.

His fingers splayed over her back and his palm smoothed up her spine. “Yes?” he mumbled back.

She had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, at least around him.

“I think I might have a thing for guys who fall out of the sky and crash into my fire escape.”

Overindulgence, lack of self control— whatever it was, it didn’t matter, really. Peter smiled against her scalp. A low rumble of a chuckle vibrated through his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head once, twice, and squeezed her against him.

She let out a little grunt in response, feeling too much like a squeaky toy to not laugh. “Pe—Peter—super strength, remember?”

“Right, yeah— my bad, bug,” he loosened his hold just enough for her to look up at him, her palms now flat on his chest between them. “But, y’know, you have some pretty weird tastes. I should’ve known when you picked the gummy bears over the Reese’s.”

12:52. He had one foot dangling on the other side of that line he spent far too long thinking about.

And she laughed that laugh and scrunched her nose up the way she did when she found something amusing, yet dumb. She did that a lot when he talked. He took it as a personal victory every time.

“You really don’t have any room to call me weird. You run around the city in spandex every night,” she mused, her lips curled into a smile.

“It makes me aerodynamic.”

“Yeah, you were real aerodynamic when you smacked your head on the rail—“

Peter was never really a planner. It made sense in the moment, to lean in and kiss her, his hands shifting to either side of her jaw. And it made sense the way she hummed into his mouth, either from surprise or the fact that she was very much in the middle of a sentence. But it was alright, because they stood there in the middle of her dark kitchen at 12:55 am, and her lips were soft, much softer than his.

He decided he could excuse every one of his bad habits, maybe write them off as quirks instead, because as he kissed her, he realized that every single one had led him right there; drinking decaf coffee in borrowed sweatpants, listening to the rain and her deepened breathing.

She pulled away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing against each other, “I wasn’t done—“

“Neither was I,” his tone was nothing but a playful tease, and he kissed her again, “how rude of you to interrupt me like that,” and again, “honestly, sometimes I can’t believe the lack of manners in this city.”

Her laugh was grounding when his head was busy floating. She smacked his chest lightly. “Lack of manners? Let’s start with you. You crawl in through my window soaking wet, drink my coffee in my clothes that I totally don’t keep around for you just in case, and kiss me without permission,” she gave him the grocery list and he nodded to each point over-attentively, humming along.

“Right, yeah— you forgot the part where I interrupted you.”

“And you interrupted m—“

Peter kissed her again.

#forgive me i’m rusty #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #p.parker #tasm #tasm!peter parker x reader

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earthtooz · 1 year

Text

x : COUPLE HUNDRED MILES :*+ﾟ

in which: you're a few minutes away from boarding a flight when an unexpected mikage reo appears and spills his heart to you.

warnings: 1.4k words, swearing, gn!reader, reader sits on reo's lap towards the end, fluff, previous rejection turned romance, bad writing :P, reader and reo are uni students and 20-ish

a/n: this was me practicing to get back into writing bc i am approaching sem break soon and have a lot of things to get out on my plate... but this was also me... being absolutely in love with reo... so... enjoy!

in a few minutes, you’ll be boarding a flight that takes you abroad for six months.

six months of not seeing your friends or family physically, six months of immersing yourself in a new culture, and six months away from the country where you confessed your love to mikage reo, only to be embarrassingly shut down.

boarding passes and passport in hand, you cringe at the haunting memory once more, but the overhead voice of the airport speakers pulls you out of your misery to announce that the boarding for your flight was open.

remaining rooted to your seat in the terminal, you calmly watch as other flight-goers scramble to be the first ones in the line. being apart of the rush was never something you preferred, always lagging behind to find your seat over

you never really liked being apart of the rush, preferring to lag behind and find your seat whilst everyone was sitting down rather than joining the uncomfortable push and pull of airplane aisles.

the queue moves at a moderate pace and when there’s only 30 or so people left, you grab your luggage to secure a spot.

but, a yell of your name reverberates through the airport and you, like many other shocked passengers, turn around to see where the commotion was coming from… only to see reo running right up towards you.

the other passengers didn’t gasp like you did, didn’t have their hearts plummet to the ground like yours did, and most certainly didn’t feel the bout of panic that rammed into you like a bullet train.

what did you do in a past life to deserve this?

you had confessed your pure-hearted, genuine affections for reo only to be met with the stinging palm of rejection slapping you across the face. when he told you that he liked someone else, and in the next breath asked if you could stay friends, the only response you had was to mutter a pathetic ‘sure’ before turning on your heel and walking away from the boy you’ve been longing after. you’ve been ignoring reo since, avoiding him where possible, pretending like you didn’t see him when your paths crossed, and perpetually ignoring all texts of his.

now he manifests right in front of you, having followed you all this way to the airport. this six month cleanse was not starting off on the right foot.

he’s red and sweaty and empty handed and you’re wondering when you’ll be able to stop seeing mikage reo as a gift from the heavens. it’s unfair for him to look good whilst puffed out, but you think that’s what makes him all the more unreachable.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss.

for a second, you don’t think reo will reply, too entrenched in the idea that this person in front of you is nothing but a trick of your mind. karma for running (more like flying) away from your problems.

against the haziness of your mind, this reo responds. “i need to tell you something.”

“could you not have texted?” you gesture to your phone for emphasis. “what could be so important to make you run all the way out to an airport? and how did you make your way into the terminal?”

“because i’m catching a flight.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“-to your heart.”

“don’t joke around with me like that,” you mutter, a stupid smile making its way to your face, causing you to hide your giggles behind your hands. you still have the capacity to take his jokes lightheartedly. reo thinks that is a good sign. “why are you actually here?”

“because i’ve realised something.”

“what does that have to do with me?”

reo inhales sharply before exhaling a quick “i like you too.”

your mouth drops. reo shifts his weight between his feet awkwardly. the person behind you in line with his wife and kids coughs awkwardly and you grab your luggage and reo and pull them both to the side, face hot. there’s only a few minutes before your flight leaves, but there is a disaster on your hands and a whole lot of questions you need answered.

“what do you mean you ‘like me too’?” you ask, any hostility previously in your tone disintegrating as you meet reo’s gaze. he looks at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“it means that i like you, and i think we should go out.”

“but… why the change of heart?”

he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, “because you ignored me for three weeks and i didn’t like it. i didn’t like not being able to talk to you and not being around you.”

“what about the person that you liked before?”

he cringes at the mention of them. “let’s not think about that, i’ve moved on.” it sounds like there’s more to the story than reo’s letting on, but you don’t pry, not yet at least. “all that matters is that i like you- a lot, and i would like another chance if you’d allow me.”

“i… don’t know,” you murmur, watchful of the gate and how little people there were left in the queue, meaning that you should probably get a move on if you didn’t want to miss your flight. “you know what, we’ll talk about it when i land-”

“-i have two first class tickets.”

“what.”

he shows you the boarding passes proudly, splaying them out to reveal that there was, indeed, two first class tickets.

“so… you… bought- hold on, you weren’t joking and the flight you need to catch is mine? how did you-”

“-i worked my magic,” the purple-haired winks at you, shooting an arrow straight through your heart. damn his boyish charms.

“that’s not at all a good answer!” you hiss. “reo, please tell me you’re not getting on that flight.”

“i am.”

“university starts in a week!”

“and?”

“i’m- what do you mean, ‘and’?”

“and? i’ll be back in time for it to start. you matter more.”

you huff. “you’re not getting on that flight, reo.”

he smiles at the roll of his name off your tongue. “but i am.”

“no you’re not.”

“well you can’t stop me.”

you deflate, dropping your shoulders. he’s right.

“besides, can you really say no to first class?” the purple-haired waves the tickets in front of your face and you have half a mind to push them out of the way.

sparing a glance over to the gate, you realise just how little people are left in the line, leaving you no choice but to agree. stupid reo and his negotiations. you look back at him. “you didn’t have to do that, i would have been fine in economy.”

“yeah but i would not have, and first class would be a lot better with you in it.”

you push his shoulder lightly. “spoiled brat.”

“maybe, but you like this spoiled brat, and we’re going to miss the flight if we don’t hurry so,” he gestures to the gate, “after you.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmur fondly and he grins charmingly. “we’re definitely talking about this later.”

“we’re going to do a lot more than just talk, c’mon.”

EXTRA SNIPPET:

“so you’re going to stay the week with me as i settle in for exchange? our semester starts next week, are you sure you’ll be back in time?” you ask, halfway into the flight. reo had decided to invade your pod and now made himself comfortable with you sitting on his lap. you can’t decide whether you like how comfortable he is with you (you like it; a lot).

reo has always been touchy with you, even when you were ‘just friends’. draping himself around you, holding your hand to ‘keep them warm’, and offering piggy-back rides were normal, but now that it was established that you two will be something more than just friends, his affection truly has no bounds.

“even if i’m not then what’s the harm? some of my classes are online and don’t mark attendance,” the purple-haired hums, taking a sip of the cup of coffee he ordered.

you sigh. “you’re horrible.”

“maybe, but we’re young and we deserve to live a little.”

“true.”

“and what if you meet someone there? i can’t have that happening. i need to establish myself as an oligopolist- market dominance in the sea of potential competitors.”

the purple-haired stares at you expectantly, and you’re not exactly sure how to respond to his sudden spiel apart from a helpless: “i can’t believe i like a finance bro.”

for whatever reason, he giggles. “i can’t believe you like me.”

#reasons i like this:#NONE #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo fluff #reo x reader fluff #blue lock

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luveline · 8 months

Note

jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you.

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic.

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out."

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close.

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly.

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks.

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand.

"You look sick," you say tearily.

"Nice. You look worse."

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?"

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?"

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus.

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much."

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry."

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again.

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly.

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died."

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back."

You breathe out.

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over.

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb.

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes."

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?"

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment.

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently.

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something."

"Me?"

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you."

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly.

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets."

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened."

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes."

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want."

#hopper x reader #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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rendy-a · 3 months

Note

Hi, uhh I'm not really used to requests?

If you could do like a Self-aware TWST headcanons/fic idk

Like of the first years or Cater or.. Lilia idk

Thank you ♥︎

I feel like the theme here is both boys just seem to know too much about you. They are so skilled at figuring out all your business and doing it in a way that leaves you oh so unaware.

He low-key cyber-stalks you online. It’s easy for him because he probably helped you set up all your socials and knows the passwords. Not that he intends to do anything BAD with that info. He just likes to keep up with what’s going on in your head.

Ok, so maybe he sometimes deletes your DM’s. Trust him, Player, you didn’t want to see that message anyway. Some people just don’t understand boundaries! He’ll tell that flirty Savanaclaw B you aren’t going on a date. Or that slimy Octavinelle C that you aren’t interested in that sort of deal! Just leave that unpleasant stuff to your Cay-Cay!

If you actually want help running your socials (you popular Player, you), then he is your guy! Just tell him what sort of vibe you are trying to develop, and he’ll totes take care of it. Approachable food vlogger? Edgy fashion vlogger? Slice of life daily vlogger? Anything you want goes! Cater is more than happy to accompany you on any of these trips to be your camera man (and maybe someday more?)

The click of the camera shutter sound effect on your phone indicated Cater had finished taking your picture with the tart you ordered at the café in town. You set your fork down and noticed Cater smiling at you. “What?” you questioned him with a smile. He laughs lightheartedly, “Oh nothing much, you just have a bit of cream there.” You gasp and reach for your napkin to clean yourself up. “No wait!” Cater says as he grabs your hand, “This is actually a perfect opportunity. Let’s get a pick like this too. You look totes adorable like this!” You embarrassingly allow Cater to direct you into a pose featuring both the tart and your messy lips. The camera sound comes again and you hurriedly set the fork down and wipe your face before Cater can suggest a re-shoot.

You only hope no one else has seen you being so foolish. You look around carefully and cringe to see that most of the café patrons are watching you eat. Being the famous Player was certainly a form of celebrity you hadn’t anticipated. When your eyes settle on a table of students from NRC, one of them holds your gaze and jumps to his feet, “Oh! Oh! Hey there, Prefect!” You smile awkwardly and wave unenthusiastically. “Oh, hey,” you meekly reply.

This is all the encouragement he needs to stand and approach your table. “It’s so nice seeing you around the town like a normal student,” he gushes to you. “Well, that’s what I am. Just a…totally normal student,” you finish lamely. He beams back at you before getting a sheepish expression, “Oh and I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t realize how much I was imposing on you. I should have known you’d be busy!” You look at him with wide-eyed astonishment until Cater slides into the conversation to suggest the NRC student return to his own table. “I don’t remember ever meeting that guy,” you mumble quietly to Cater, “what was he going on about?” Cater pats you gently on the back, “Who knows. Maybe he just thought you were closer than you were. Some guys just don’t know when they aren’t wanted, ya know!” Then he slides and arm around you, “Don’t feel bad though. Your guy Cay-Cay will always be at your side to tell them off for you.”

Whenever you have a question or need some information, its only natural that you go to Lilia for guidance. He always seems to know just what you need! Sure, some part of that is because he follows you around everywhere and can easily anticipate what you are looking for. Then he has time to research until he allows you to locate him to ask for his knowledge. That isn’t being manipulative, that is called being wise!

Ok, fine. Sometimes he creates situations that cause you to need him as well. To be fair, he is a fae and they are known to have a habit of mischief-making. He is just indulging in his fae nature, and you can’t fault him for that, can you Player? I dare you to say that you can when you are looking into his unbelievably large and innocent-looking bat eyes. Don’t make him shed crocodile tears for you because he will!

At least it seems like the only situations you are involved in lately are the Lilia induced ones. Other troubles seem to have found their way somewhere else. A pointed look from the fae hanging above your head in the shadows is all it takes to make those troublemakers take their argument out of your sight. To think that they actually thought they could speak to the great Player about such trifles! Not on General Lilia’s watch! He’ll come out of retirement just to guard your precious self!

The wind blows through the cracks in the walls of Ramshackle and you hear Grim complain for the tenth time today, “I don’t wanna study now! The great Grim doesn’t need to look things over every day! I’ll just cram before the exam and do fine. Now get outta my way Prefect, I’m going on a tuna run!” You spread your arms wide, blocking the door even more. “Oh no you don’t! We are one student here; your grades are my grades! I need you to study!”

Grim turns from the door and heads toward the window, as though he might choose to escape by jumping out. There was an old tree, baren of leaves this time of year, that grew very near that window. It wasn’t impossible to imagine a cat-like creature, such as Grim, might be able to make the jump to freedom. You wondered if you should abandon your post as a door-guard to block the window instead when Grim startles and backs quickly away from the window. You edge closer, alarmed at his reaction, to peer carefully into the night. You look first at the windowsill and then at the bare branches of the lonely tree outside but see nothing shocking. A bit of movement catches your eye, and you notice Lilia near the fence of Ramshackle waving over the crumbling stones in an oddly exaggerated and cutesy way.

You turn back to Grim, “What’s up with you? There isn’t anything there.” He looks at you carefully and replies, “Didn’t you see him there?” You look back out the window and see only Lilia, who is now floating above the fence and reseing his chin upon his hands as he forms them into a heart-shape. “All I see is Lilia competing with himself for cutest lad in Diasomnia. What am I supposed to be looking for?” Grim gives you a look that is both pity and horror. After a moment of silence, his unusual behavior gets to you. “Maybe you are working too hard,” you say as you head to the door you’d just been blocking, “Why don’t I go grab you that tuna after all?”

He gives a sigh and sits back at the desk, flipping open a textbook. “Just forget about it. I ain’t in the mood anymore.” You look worriedly back at him, but he just continues to study. You sit on the bed for a bit to watch over him, but it isn’t long until you’ve nodded off. Grim, on the other hand, continues to dutifully study. Why not? It’s not like he’ll be sleeping tonight. Not after the eldritch horror he’s witnessed hanging in the tree outside. Lilia doesn’t usually employ that level of scare tactic outside of Halloween pranks, but for you, Dear Player, he is willing to make exceptions.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #tw: yandere #cater diamond #yandere cater diamond #yandere lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge #self aware au

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