#this is more of a general light sides not being the best to him thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bayjaruchel · 7 months

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Underneath The Strobe Light

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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kaciidubs · 4 months

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Wait Your Turn

❣ Summary: If you're going to break the rules, then you have to face the consequences of your actions. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 5.7k ❣ Warnings: Poly! OT8 x Reader, smut, humor, comfort, fluff, Dom/Sub dynamics, bondage, edging, spit roasting, bukkake, creampie(s), cum play, slight spit play, dacryphilia, choking, degradation, implied after care ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Usual first name + pet name references for the members, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny, Pup, Bub, Kitten, Muse, Jagi[ya], Sunshine, Noona, probably the filthiest thing I've written so far, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Being in a polyamorous relationship with one of the busiest idol groups meant having to apply schedules to the most mundane parts of your life; which dorm you stay at for the week, who wants to go on solo dates and who wants to do group dates, and most importantly, who's the next to get laid by you and when.

Granted, these types of things are only applied when they're in the midst of a comeback - making sure their work life doesn't interfere with your relationship - but when the dreadful time does come around, the struggle truly begins.

Each of your boys were different in terms of their needs, so the schedule was set to alternate between the needier members having more frequent interactions with you throughout the week while the more independent members cashed their time during off days or weekends.

It was a strange system to adapt to, but you all made it work for the length of the comebacks - though, that doesn't mean it always held up. Some of the boys cracked, some deciding to share their time with you and another boy while others asked for trades in their time slots to see you sooner, but they always did their best not to alter the schedule too much.

That is, until week two came and you were begged for a cuddle session from a certain Aussie leader - Changbin agreeing to save his night for another day since Chris only went out of turn when he was really in his head about something.

You slipped into his room easily, getting bathed in the soft purple lighting of his room as you shut the door behind you. "You okay, Channie?"

He turned onto his side, putting his phone on the small table next to his bed before reaching his hand out, "Yeah, just need you in my arms, love."

Your heart fluttered, obliging his request with a smile as you happily rush to his bed, letting him pull you under the blanket and into his warmth - your darling personal heater who rarely wore anything more than boxer briefs to bed.

It doesn't take long until you're settled underneath him, caged between his arms while his slim hips keeps your legs separated, soft lips pressing to your own with barely hidden intent.

"Christopher," you hum against his lips, pulling away just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, "what are you up to, mister?"

"Need you," he breathed softly, pecking your lips once again before kissing just under your jaw, "need you so bad, baby."

A soft moan floated past your lips as he nipped at your sweet spot, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair, "You know it's not your night, baby - we can't."

"No one needs to know, yeah?" His lips continued down, wet kisses left in his wake until he moved back up to your face, eyes lidded and fogged over with lust. "It's just one night, princess, please." Pressing his body against yours, he ground his hips, further enticing you with the feeling of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. "Please, princess, just for daddy?"

In all honesty, you should've stuck to the rules, you should've been the voice of reason, but then his lips were on yours again and all thoughts of rationality went out the window.

When he felt you melt into the kiss he sighed a breath of relief, pulling away to sit himself up on his knees, "I'll do all the work, baby, alright? I just need you to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet - we don't want to get caught, do we?"

You shook your head softly, shamelessly checking out his chest under the LED lights, "No, daddy - I'll be quiet."

His right hand caught your chin, bringing your gaze back to his with a knowing smirk, "Good girl."

With that, your fate was sealed with the tangling of limbs, breathless sighs of names, and muffled moans of pleasure.

It wasn't until the next morning that you realized the repercussions of your shared decision, waking up to an empty bed and a wall of texts waiting on your phone that sent chills down your spine.

My Loves - GC Min [Cat Daddy]🐈: Meeting at 3Racha + Artist dorm tonight Sun-Bok ☀️: Yep! Binnie Baby 💪🏻: 👍🏻 My Artist 💌: This'll be fun 🙄 Hannie Jisungie 💘: Do we have to?? I kinda had plans.. Bubs [SeungMongMong] 💕: Han. Read the room. Baby Bread 🍞❣️: 😭😭😭

Judging from the lack of reply from a certain leader, you already knew what the meeting was going to be about.

Wonderful.

"Do you know why we're gathered here today?"

You wanted to coo at how cute Felix's 'domineering' act was, but you chose to refrain as you sat next to Chris in chairs borrowed from the dining room.

"Um... No?"

Minho clicked his tongue, sharp eyes narrowing in an expression you were all too familiar with, "Are you sure about that, Kitten?"

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you immediately knew that playing innocent was not in your favor.

"Chan?" He now challenged the eldest, the fire in his eyes unwavering.

The black haired man timidly shook his head, not even daring to open his mouth - he was a terrible liar, and everyone knew that.

"Alright, so we're playing this game." Shrugging dismissively, he turned his attention to Hyunjin and gave him a nod.

Without missing a beat, Hyunjin took out his phone and swiped across the screen before putting it down on the coffee table for everyone to witness what would happen next.

You froze at the sound playing from Hyunjin's phone, eyes snapping to Chris as his feigned look of confusion fell to sheepish embarrassment.

Floating through the small speaker were your moans, his moans, and the faint thumping of the bed you had warned him about before the entire scenario started.

"You recorded us?!" Even though he tried to save face, the blush tinting his ears and cheeks was more than a dead giveaway that you'd been caught red handed.

"You fucked her when it wasn't even your turn!" Hyunjin argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You were supposed to be asleep!"

"First of all, I can stay up late as long as I want, and second of all, you two aren't the quietest of fucks in this house!"

"We share a wall and I slept through all of that?!" Jisung suddenly piped up, gesturing wildly to the phone on the table, "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"I sense we're missing the point here..." Jeongin mumbled, snatching Hyunjin's phone from the table to pause the tantalizing audio.

"Innie's right! The point is," Changbin pointed a finger at their leader, "you tricked my bunny into letting you hit!"

Seungmin scoffed, "Tricked is a strong accusation, your 'bunny' isn't as innocent as she seems, isn't that right, pup?"

As much as you wanted to speak up in defense of yourself, they were completely right; you were in the wrong, no matter how it started and how rewarding the act was, you had broken one of the rules explicitly set for comeback season.

"This isn't all sunshine's fault," Felix butted in, quieting the bickering happening around him, "but it isn't all Chan's fault either - they both did it, so they both need to be punished, right? That's what we normally do when rules are broken, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Minho purred, running a hand through Felix's blond hair in appreciation, "and lucky for you two, we already thought of a punishment."

A chill ran down your spine and you stiffened under his mischievous gaze, noticing Chris opening his mouth to speak from your peripheral but closed it once more.

He may have been their leader at work, but here they were all partners, and the eldest card was virtually useless.

Looking between the two of you, a smug smirk graced Minho's lips as he nodded, "No objections? Good." Turning his gaze to you, he nodded his head, "Clothes off, kitten."

Apparently, the agreed upon punishment must've been a pact for pure torture for you and Chris; the eldest remaining in the same dining chair he sat in during the meeting, wearing only his boxer briefs with his wrists tied behind his back as part of his personal punishment.

You, however, seemed to get the brunt of the arrangement, laid naked on a blanket spread out over the area rug, a few decorative pillows spread around in case you needed the extra support.

Chris wasn't allowed to touch you or himself, nor was he allowed to cum during any point of the punishment; whereas you were allowed to touch anyone but Chris, and you weren't allowed to cum while the remaining members used their designated day to fuck you out of schedule - just like their wise leader and boyfriend had done the night before.

After some thorough - and quite unfair - prep by Jisung that left your pussy covered in spit and glistening for all of the boys to pay witness, Jeongin shuffled his way between your legs.

"Hi, Noona."

You did your best not to giggle at how causal he was, despite being stark naked and fisting his dick for what was to come next. "Hi, Innie."

"I still think it isn't fair you let Channie Hyung break the rules like that," he pouted, shuffling closer to rub his tip against your awaiting folds, drawing a shivering breath from you in the process.

"I-I know, I'm so-rry!" The feeling of his cock sliding past your walls had your back arching slightly, a low moan floating past your lips as he steadily filled you to the hilt.

He groaned softly, hands anchoring at your hips as he began to thrust into you without abandon, eyes locked onto where you were connected as his tongue just barely poked between his lips.

Your peace of getting used to his fast pace was interrupted with a shadow being cast over your face, the sight of Changbin shuffling into view with his signature smirk curving his lips.

"You don't mind taking two at once, do you, bunny?" He hummed, tapping the head of his dick against your bottom lip for emphasis.

A pitiful whimper escaped you, eyebrows sloping as realization quickly dawned on you - if he was using your mouth, then that meant you wouldn't get to feel that delicious stretch you'd been craving for the past week, yet another punishment.

"C'mon, little bunny, open up for me."

Doing as you were told, you parted your lips to welcome his thick tip, dropping your jaw to accompany the rest of his thick length to slip into your mouth and press against the back of your throat.

He rocked his hips in an opposing rhythm to Jeongin's powerful thrusts, the force simply jolting you into Changbin's dick and helping him fuck your mouth in return.

Any sound you made was turned into vibrations that shot up his spine, while panted moans and grunted breaths flowed freely from them, mingling with the distant sounds of your other boyfriends pleasuring themselves on the side as they waited for their turn.

"Look at you taking Innie so well, gonna make him come, bunny? Make him fill that needy pussy of yours?" The third eldest goaded, his hand sliding down to grope at your breast, running his thumb over your budding nipple.

Jeongin grunted, head bowed with focus as he drove into you with one desire and one only - to come.

You tried to hum out a reply, nodding your head in hopes that it would get noticed through the bobbing of your head until an increase of speed had your eyes rolling in your head.

"I-I'm gonna come, Noona- Oh, fuck-"

Just as you were ready to feel the signature warmth filling you, the presence of him inside of you disappeared and your eyes shot open to see him jacking himself off above you. Within a few passes of his fist, ropes of cum decorated your stomach, starting just above your naval and ending near your breasts.

It was almost as if he could sense your disappointment as he shot you a cocky smirk, "Oh - did you want me to finish inside? Sorry, Noona, I got to pick since it was my turn."

With a tap to your cheek, Changbin brought your attention back to him, "Don't get too upset, you still have five more dicks to go, bunny."

He was right - your punishment was far from over, and with the needy flutters of your pussy, you knew the requirement of not coming would be an uphill battle.

So, with renowned vigor, you did your best to focus on giving the best head you could manage in this position, laving your tongue against the smooth skin of his dick while trying not to mind the saliva that trailed down your cheek.

In the meantime, Chris wasn't faring too well in his seat, his hard on straining in his boxer briefs and begging for some form of attention from anyone in the room - the subtle shifting doing next to nothing to satisfy the pressure he craved.

He watched as Hyunjin guided Seungmin's mouth up and down his cock, a hand tangled in the long golden tresses of the younger's hair while the other half of his attention was focused on slow makeout session Felix had drawn him into; plump lips working against the smaller pair in a way that couldn't be described as anything other than beautiful.

"IN-ah," Minho called out, almost looking completely unphased by the drag of Jisung's lips against the column of his neck if it weren't for the way his hands gripped his slim waist. "Why don't you make sure Hyung doesn't get too bored over there?"

Fuck.

Jeongin gave a dutiful nod as he crawled his way over to the eldest, fox-like eyes sparkling with a glee that made his stomach flip. "Channie Hyung."

"Jeongin."

He pouted at the use of his name, no glittering nickname or endearing title following, "Don't be like that! You know why we're doing this - you'd do the same if it was one of us!"

Of course, he was right, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save as much of his pride as he could, not with the way he could feel his sanity slipping as the two-toned blond settled between his spread legs.

"Alright, alright, 'm sorry," relaxing against the chair, he gave a small smile toward the youngest, "hi, baby boy."

Preening with happiness, Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh that nearly had him jolting out of the chair, a delighted laugh floating past those daring lips.

"You know... You didn't have to try to keep it a secret," he hummed, planting another kiss higher up the smooth plane of skin, "there's nothing wrong with needing Noona sooner than us, unless..." Sharp eyes looked up at him, a dark glint sending a spark of electricity down the eldest's spine, "You wanted to see what would happen if we found out - is that it, Hyung?"

Chris opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a guttural groan escaping Changbin, pulling his attention toward the main event happening in the middle of the living room.

The buff man shivered, hissing sharply as he pulled his softening dick from your mouth, "Show Binnie, bunny."

You opened your mouth immediately, showing the mess of cum and saliva pooling your tongue.

"Good girl, go on and swallow."

Your puffy lips closed for a moment before parting again to show your now empty mouth, void of any remnants of his seed; as a reward, Changbin bent down and pressed his lips to your forehead.

Next in the rotation was Seungmin, Felix, and Hyunjin - taking on a position that seemed to be coordinated in advance; Seungmin taking post between your legs, Felix straddling your torso with his hands already groping your chest, while Hyunjin lingered beside you.

"Jeongin, did you really have to leave a mess behind?" Seungmin groaned as he dragged his thumb through a still wet line of cum, tapping Felix's cheek with his index.

Following his instincts, Felix turned his head and instantly took his thumb into his mouth, and you watched with lust fogged eyes as he sucked it clean.

"Don't act like you weren't going to do the same thing." The youngest deadpanned, shooting the singer a glare, "You're just mad I did it first."

Deciding to ignore that statement, the second youngest slipped his thumb from Felix's soft lips and brought it down toward your awaiting pussy, putting slight pressure on your neglected clit.

You jolted at the sudden touch, whining pitifully, "Minnie, please, don't tease me."

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands, bub."

Despite his snarky reply, you could feel the head of his dick nudge against your slick entrance, all the while Felix was happily enjoying his time with your breasts; gently kneading the mounds and tweaking your nipples with subtle pinches here and there.

"Come here, my angel." Hyunjin murmured softly, cupping the freckled blond's face before pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

You watched helplessly, forced to be a spectator of the pleasure happening around you; the show above you, the sounds of Jisung's unabashed whimpers from the couch, and the grunted gasps of Chris from whatever Jeongin and Changbin had resorted to doing to him.

When the duo pulled away, Felix leaned over to let a stream of spit drip onto his twitching cock and the valley of your boobs, the excitement palpable from the way he practically vibrated above you.

Without any further preparation, he pressed your breasts together to sandwich his cock and rocked his hips forward, a heavenly groan floating past his lips.

At the same time, Seungmin slipped past your walls with little resistance, sighing happily at the warmth of your pussy finally enveloping him.

Your hands found Felix's thighs, squeezing the flexed muscles as he fucked your breasts at a steady pace - meanwhile, Seungmin set his own rhythm of deep and hard thrusts, practically punching moans out of your throat with each slap of his thighs against the back of your own.

"Sunshine, you feel so good," Felix groaned, eyes flicking between your face and the way the pink head of his dick peeked out from between your boobs on each inward thrust.

"Of course she'd feel good," Seungmin scoffed, his hands gripping the backs of your knees for leverage, "the little slut was made for us, isn't that right, pup?"

You preened at his words, tossing your head back with an unabashed moan.

"So shameless, my muse," Hyunjin smirked, watching you lovingly as he lazily fisted his spit-slicked cock. "You love being used like this by us - but, then again, we love getting to use you, too."

Whining up at him, your dazed eyes glanced down at his length and your lips parted - an offering.

"Nuh uh, beauty, I'm waiting for that sweet pussy of yours."

The clench your walls gave earned you a moan from the singer inside of you, his grip on your legs tightening slightly, "Fuck, stop it, pup - feels too fucking good."

Felix whined, tossing his head back with a shivering breath, "W-What's she feel like, Minnie?"

"Wet, warm, t-tight," a low grunt fell from his lips, "I can tell she's getting close - you know, when her pussy f-flutters-"

"-Y-Yeah, oh, fuck- I'm close." The freckled boy's thrusts quickly began to falter, dissolving into him shallowly humping your breasts.

Hyunjin watched as both boys chased their orgasms, your breathless moans floating through the air like a song while your nails scratched angry red lines down Felix's slim thighs.

"A-Ah, fuck, f-fuck-" Seungmin was the first to topple over the edge, pulling out just as he began to come, the hot release adding to the partially dried mess left behind from his boyfriend before.

With a shaky rut of his hips, Felix came with a short cry of your name, his cum painting your neck and mixing with the mess of saliva and precum in your cleavage.

Dropping your legs unceremoniously, Seungmin shuffled from between your legs to sit breathlessly at your side; Felix managing to shakily slide himself off of your torso and into the former's arms.

"Oh, you poor beauty," Hyunjin cooed, taking in your utterly disheveled form as he filled in the newly freed space, "they made you so dirty, didn't they?"

You jolted at the feeling of his hand ghosting your side, your abdomen twisting so hard you nearly folded over.

"H-Hyune, can I come this time? Please, please, I-I need to, i-it's too much!"

"You're begging the wrong person, my muse." He used his right index to drag through the mess at your sternum and down to the cum coating your stomach, "I can't help you, here." Popping his finger into his mouth, a shivering breath ran through his body, eyelids fluttering before focusing his heated stare back onto you, "Don't worry, I'll be fast - two more after me and you'll be done."

Luckily for you, your orgasm had began to subside and you were barely affected by the graze of his fingertips down your hips and thighs, caressing your skin and massaging the tense muscles as he went.

Chris watched as Hyunjin slipped inside of you with little to no resistance, the sight of your cum stained body arching off of the floor making him strain against the rope keeping his hands behind his back.

"Wish that was you, huh?" Changbin taunted low in his ear, squeezing his shoulders before lightly massaging away the tenseness in his biceps, "Look at her, five dicks in and she's still taking everything we give her."

"Fuck."

Hyunjin had your legs in the air, calves resting against his right shoulder to make the squeeze even tighter, making each drag of his cock that much more devilish for you.

That should be him making you moan like that, he should be the one feeling the squeeze of your pussy around his dick, not the stupid confines of his underwear.

He felt like he was going crazy, and it didn't help with Jeongin's intermittent touches to his restrained bulge that kept him hyper aware of everything happening in front of him.

Your moans grew in pitch, one hand gripping onto the artist's forearm while the other gripped a decorative pillow by your head for further support.

"Oh, god - I c-can't- I-"

"Hold it, kitten." Minho spoke up from his position on the couch, "You have two more to go for your punishment - you don't want to make it worse, do you?"

"N-No, but- Ah!" Your train of thought escaped you as the lithe dancer slightly leaned forward, pushing your legs closer to your torso and brushing against your g-spot in an entirely new angle that had you seeing stars.

"You can do it, my love," Hyunjin panted breathlessly, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his skin, "g-gonna fill you up for doing such a good job for us, okay?"

There weren't any words you could find to somehow put together a coherent sentence, so you simply nodded with hiccuped breaths - doing your best not to focus on the burning desire in your abdomen.

It only took a few more strokes until he stilled with a gasp, broken moans happening in time with the twitching of his length, filling your cunt with every last drop of his load.

However, the turnaround this time was faster than you'd expected; Hyunjin pulling out with a still throbbing dick, while the sound of scrambling reached your ears before a new presence filled the void.

"Jagi."

Your heart clenched, blinking up at the man with a desperate gaze, "Sungie, please - I-I can't take anymore."

You were overly aware of the warm sensation of Hyunjin's cum dripping down the curve of your ass and undoubtedly staining the blanket beneath you, and you were beginning to feel tacky from the mix of cum and spit drying on your skin.

"I know, I know, but you're so close, Jagi - you can do it for us, right? Take your punishment like a good girl?"

The feeling of him pushing your legs up and out had you sobbing out a breath, everything from your waist down sore and crying for a break.

Jisung rubbed the leaky tip of his cock against your puffy clit, biting his lip as more cum seemed to endlessly dribble out of you, "Shit, he really filled you, hm?"

Then, just as his boyfriends before, he angled his hips and sunk into your sensitive cunt, your moans mixing together in a harmony.

"S-So good - god, I wish I could stay in this pussy." He groaned, leaning forward to hover over you - keeping your legs hooked on the outside of his arms - before shallowly thrusting into you.

The sloppy sounds of skin against skin and the mixture of cum and your arousal filled the living room as everyone watched on.

"Fuck... I wanna go again," Felix whined, doe eyes trained on where you and Jisung were connected.

Seungmin laughed, squeezing his arms around him, "Yeah? I bet Chan wishes he could go at all."

This comment brought each of their attentions to the man in mention, and the sight was one to be memorized for the time to come.

A light sheen of sweat shined across his forehead and chest, shallow breaths expanding his torso and exposing the slight definition of abs with each exhale, and thick thighs spread to display the bulge stretching the light grey fabric of his boxer briefs - a glaringly obvious stain of precum in the form of dark grey spread around the head of his hidden cock and along the length, defining it more.

"Holy shit, Chan - you're turned on this much?" Hyunjin took in the view with amused eyes, though the faint swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip hadn't gone unnoticed.

The eldest whined, an embarrassed blush adding to the flush of arousal on his face, "It doesn't help that these two," he nodded his head between Jeongin and Changbin, "have been over here touching me the whole time, and- fuck, watching everyone take turns with her, how could I not get turned on?"

"Channie Hyung, you look like you're one breeze away from coming." Jeongin giggled as he pressed his index finger against the outline of his tip, pulling it away to see a faint string of precum follow suit.

"He shouldn't." Minho interjected, watching the small group from the couch, "And you better not make him come either, unless you'd like to be added to the punishment list, too."

Another signature whine fell from Felix as he broke his focused stare to look at the black haired man, "Can we at least see him? Please, Hyung?"

There was a moment of silence - well, as silent as it could be with your and Jisung's moans and whimpers still dancing through the air - before he nodded his head.

"Fine, go ahead."

It definitely wasn't a three person job, but when Felix sprung into action with Jeongin, Seungmin wasn't about to be left out of the reveal - so, with three sets of hands and the help of Chris lifting his hips, they managed to toss away his one and only clothing item.

"Holy fuck, thank you," he groaned, his head falling back and lightly knocking against the backrest of the chair; a wave of goosebumps decorating his skin at the temperature shift and change in pressure.

The sudden sound of Jisung cursing called their attention like a moth to a flame, eyes snapping to see the rapper frantically fucking into you with reckless abandon.

Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you gripped his hair, "Please, please, please, I-I can't- j-just come already, Sungie!"

It wasn't clear if it was the tug on his scalp or your command that had him coming, but he was suddenly shaking above you with breathless whines, fucking his load into you with hard, shallow ruts.

He dipped his head to catch your lips in a less than coordinated kiss, a dazed smile finding its way to his face, "Last one, Jagi."

Sniffling up at him, a harsh realization hit you like a freight train - Minho was the last one to go.

Minho, the one who enjoyed seeing you at your wits end, wearing you down until you were nothing but his brainless little kitten - the one who laughed in the face of your pleas and begs, the one who would catch your tears onto his fingers and make you choke on the same digits.

As Jisung slipped away to join the rest of the spectators, you turned your head to see Minho unmoving from his seat, staring at you with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Hands and knees, kitten."

You were shocked to find out that you still had power left in you to lift your body from the floor, much less manage to turn yourself onto your aching legs before dipping into an arch you'd perfected in your time with them - ignoring the feeling of now cold cum meeting the fluffy warmth of the blanket where you once laid.

It wasn't long until you felt a large hand grip the swell of your ass before landing a hard slap against the cheek making you scream out a moan.

"What did we learn?" He hummed nonchalantly, spreading your ass cheeks to see the newest mess of cum ooze toward your clit.

"I-I won't k-keep secrets," you sobbed, the pulse of your pussy making your toes curl, "if s-someone wants to skip ahead, w-we make sure everyone knows - P-Please, Min, I'm sorry!"

The only sign of acknowledgment he gave you was a clipped hum, sliding one hand to the base of your spine while the other wrapped around his dick, pumping once and tracing your messy cunt.

"Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, please, I've been good - I-I didn't come while the others fucked me, I-I let them use me, please let me come, Min!" Hiccuping a sob, your hands fisted the blanket as fresh tears streaked down your cheeks, "Please, please, please, it hurts - I can't keep holding it!"

The stretch of his dick past your sensitive walls had your mouth falling open in a silent moan, eyes rolling as your veins flowed with molten lava - overstimulation beginning to set in.

"Okay, kitten, you can come," he murmured softly, his hand sliding up your slightly sweaty back before wrapping around your neck, his body eclipsing yours as his lips hovered just above your ear, "but only when I say so."

He dragged his hips back before delivering a hard thrust, forcing a choked gasp past your lips as he began to practically fuck you through the floor - broken moans and cries flowing like water in a stream.

"Remember this the next time you decide to bend the rules," hissing in your ear, his hand tightened around your neck ever so slightly, "doesn't matter if its Yongbokkie's charms, Hannie's begs, Jeongin's sugar coated promises - none of them, if you try lying to cover for them, this is what'll happen."

"Minho, it wasn't all her fault." Chris gritted, watching the way you writhed in the second eldest's hold - his dick twitching painfully for any type of relief.

Minho scoffed out a laugh, finally directly regarding him ever since the entire punishment started, "When did I ever say it was, Chan?"

Without so much as a stutter in his rhythm, he sat up onto his knees, bringing your body with his and putting you on full display for the rest of your partners.

"This is a lesson to you, too; don't try to keep things from us - if you want to fuck our girl, you can fuck her." His thumb pressed against the underside of your jaw, tilting your head in their direction, "She obviously loves it, so why put yourself through the stress of making it a secret? You can see her just like this without keeping her orgasm from her, isn't that right, kitten?"

You mindlessly nodded as best as you could, drool trailing out of the corner of your mouth as you tried your best to keep your focus on the man restrained in the chair and not on the six other pairs of eyes taking you in.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, Sir!" You mewled, your hands holding tight to his arm to keep yourself tethered to your own body.

"Exactly, now, say sorry."

Chris bristled, "Minho, that's-"

"Felix."

On command, the boys occupying the space near Chris's legs moved to allowed Felix between them; Jeongin holding onto one thigh while Hyunjin held onto the other to further restrain him.

The second Felix's soft hands wrapped around the base of his dick, he had to bite his lip to silence the pure moan of pleasure that wanted to rise out of him - but, the instant his lips pressed against a vein, he nearly cried.

"Say sorry, kitten," Minho whispered in your ear, breaking through the fog that clouded your brain, "say sorry then you can come."

A sob wracked through your body as you nodded, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Innie and Binnie. I'm sorry L-Lix, Minnie, a-and Hyune. I-I'm sorry S-Sungie," nearly choking on your breath, you cried, "a-and I'm sorry Min, I'm so sorry, sir!"

He hummed, a smirk on his lips, "You're missing an apology, kitten."

The names replayed in your head like a tape on rewind, your brain desperately searching for who you might have missed until it finally clicked.

"C-Channie!"

The call of his name brought his eyes to yours, breathless groans escaping him as Felix licked at him as if he were a popsicle on a hot summer day.

You sniffled, blown out pupils swimming in the sea of your watery eyes, "I-I'm so sorry, Channie - I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

His heart clenched in time with his abdomen, hips canting as best they could with Hyunjin and Jeongin keeping him still. "I'm sorry, princess, you hear me? Fuck- I'm so sorry, baby."

"Good kitten," Minho grunted, his free hand wrapping around your hip to the apex of your thighs, his skilled fingers finding your clit easily, "now, come for us."

There wasn't a singular word to describe the sensations that shot through your veins; euphoria, relief, satisfaction, all you could feel was the wave of your orgasm crashing around you and drowning you in the muffled sounds of your own screams.

It didn't take long for Chris to fall victim to the sinful kitten licks of Felix's tongue, not when he had the view of you and Minho falling apart before his eyes.

"Oh fuck, f-fuck!"

Minho felt you slump in his arms, shallow breaths wracking your body through soft whimpers and hiccups. "You're alright, Jagiya, I've got you."

You slurred out soft words he couldn't catch, though the faintest "Sorry" caught his ear through the jumbled mess.

"No more of that, kitten, okay? I forgive you - We forgive you, just take some deep breaths with me, hm?"

Changbin appeared in front of you with two wet washcloths, and a t-shirt most likely from his closet, "Hey, bunny, it's Binnie - I'm gonna clean you off, okay?"

You hummed softly and he got to work wiping away the dried cum and spit that stained your skin, using the second cloth to get whatever remnants he missed before handing it off to Minho who cleaned away the cum covering your pussy.

Meanwhile, Felix and Jeongin were having a field day of cleaning up the cum that decorated Chris's skin from his own orgasm; Hyunjin lazily running his hands through Chris's hair while Seungmin untied his wrists.

"Hyung," Seungmin prodded, garnering Chris's tired, but attentive gaze, "we know you mean well, and you don't like imposing over us, or whatever," he took a short breath, fighting through the shyness, "but if you need something then say so - it's not like we haven't adjusted our schedules before."

"Yeah, Chan - we're not gonna fault you if you need your time sooner than us, we do it all the time." Hyunjin chimed in, playing with a small curl at the front of his head.

"Some of us more than others."

"You know, I can hear you," Felix deadpanned, looking up at the three of them while licking his lips, "and it's not like I don't offer sharing my time!"

Jeongin laughed, "I don't think they meant it as a bad thing, Lix, you're just the one who uses your time the most, even if you share it."

"Which is, again, not a bad thing," Jisung piped up with a chuckle, walking toward the group with a washcloth and a bottle of water for the eldest, "I think it's a tie between me and you, honestly."

Through the small talk and pre-shower wipe downs - some of the boys dispersing to shower while others searched for snacks - Chris noticed Minho bundling up the soiled blanket while Changbin cradled your sleeping form in his arms on the couch, murmuring soft words he wasn't able to catch.

"She's okay," Minho hummed, catching Chris's soft gaze, "we're going to let her rest for a minute, then when she wakes up Changbin's going to make sure she uses the bathroom before anything else."

He nodded understandingly, stretching his arms and rubbing absentmindedly at his wrists.

"You want to cuddle with her."

Chris jolted, eyes widening, "What? I didn't say-"

"You don't have to say it, you do it all the time after sex, Chan," he rolled his eyes, a loving smirk playing at his lips, "it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just..." Sighing, Minho ventured over to the chair he still sat in, "Stop being shy about needing love, okay? This isn't about some stupid rule or 'fuck' schedule - you need to know that there isn't any shame in putting your needs first. You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need, Hyung."

Planting a quick kiss on his lips, Minho disappeared down the hall toward the laundry room, leaving Chris to settle with his words.

Nodding softly to himself, he made his way toward Changbin and swapped roles quietly, accepting a temple kiss from his fellow rapper before he headed into the kitchen to join whoever occupied the space.

Laying across the couch, Chris let you lay partially on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your back while he used his other hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

Stirring slightly, you cracked an eye open and a tired smile twitched your lips, "Mm... I love you."

You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need.

He smiled at Minho's words, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, watching as you drifted back to sleep.

"I love you too, baby."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia

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woewriting · 2 months

Text

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.”

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?”

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?”

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.

“This feels so fucking good.”

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

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pellucid-constellations · 5 months

Text

Of Oblivious Minds (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! More pining and yearning

a/n: Here is part two! I love writing this little series :) There will definitely be more! let me know what you think ♡♡

Part 1, Part 3

Sometimes you hated being a scholar.

There were plenty of upsides to having such a cushy job, especially when your employer was the high lord himself. You got paid generously, got free access to the best libraries, and never had to pay rent. Millions of fae would kill to have your position.

But as Cassian punched you in the ribs—for the third time—you found yourself questioning your role within the night court’s inner circle.

“Okay,” you breathed out, hunching over with a hand cradling your side. “Okay, please, Cass. Can we take a break?”

Unfortunately, Cassian didn’t appreciate quitters. So, your feet were abruptly swept from under you and your back made contact with the floor. With a soft oof, the wind was knocked from your lungs.

“C’mon, y/n, you’re better than that. I know you are.”

You responded with a wheeze, blinking into the pale sun.

This morning had been rough.

You’d been having some trouble sleeping, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Being alive for so long meant you had seen quite a few things, so nightmares came and went with the tide. You were going through a rough patch with them at the moment, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

“You planning on laying there for the rest of the day?” Cassian asked, his large silhouette coming to block the light.

You squinted up at him. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, not happening.”

You fought back a whine as the Illyrian pulled you up by your shoulders and steadied you. He nodded, giving you a moment to ready yourself back into position, and then bent his knees. Gods, you were going to be so sore later.

It didn’t take long for you to end up on the floor again, this time on your stomach. Your chin cracked against the padded ring, your teeth snapping together at the impact. The sound made your brain vibrate as you rolled onto your side and held your temple.

Cassian crouched down to the floor beside you and you could make out his worried brow amidst the shakiness of your vision.

“What’s going on with you?” He brought his hand up to brush against your already bruising jaw. “We’ve been working on that move for weeks. You had it a few days ago.”

You breathed through your nose and tried not to groan at the ache rolling through your body. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

At that, Cassian plopped down to a seat, keeping a hand at your elbow as you brought your own body up to mirror his.

“You want to talk about it?” he questioned.

“There isn’t much to say. I can’t remember them this time. It’s kind of strange—usually I remember them too much and that’s what makes it worse.”

Cassian hummed in contemplation. He was always the one you went to the morning after a sleepless night. Cassian would listen as you talked through your nightmares, and you would do the same for him. He was a logical pillar in your life.

But it was always Azriel you went to in the midst of them. You never talked about what you saw and he never asked. But it was always Azriel in the middle of the night. His shadows were a comfort in the pitch black and he was always quick to wrap his wings around you when it became too hard to breathe.

You hadn’t gone to him these last few times.

The fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams was an unfortunate factor. Because if you knew what was causing you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, at least then you could talk about it. Or take a moment to rationalize.

There was no rationalizing when the only thing you had to go off of was fear and hurt.

“What does Azriel think?” Cassian asked after a small lapse in silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you go to his room at night. What does he have to say about you not remembering?”

You scoffed. And then scoffed again. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I barely do that.”

Cassian stared at you with a blank expression. “So we’re still doing that then. Got it.” He heaved himself up from the ground and then yanked you up alongside him.

“Still doing what?” you asked, trailing behind him as he reached for his canteen. He didn’t answer you, favoring the long gulps of water he was taking. You waited for him to finish and then asked again. He chose to unwrap his knuckles instead. “Cassian.”

The man sighed. “Nothing, y/n. It’s just… It wasn’t a secret that you would go to his room after you had a rough night. Why do you think I never dragged you out here those mornings?” You cringed at his words. He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Why do you hide it?”

You didn’t have a good reason—well, you didn’t used to. You’d always sneak out of his room after the sun rose and never bring it up again. And there was never a solid explanation for why you evaded the topic. You knew Azriel would never hold it against you and you weren’t embarrassed for others to know that you sought out comfort in a friend. It just seemed like something you should keep to yourself.

Now, though—now there was a good reason to wipe your actions from memory. To pretend they never happened and to never repeat them.

“Cassian, Elain is my friend. Even if I did that in the past—in a friendly way—it would be wrong now.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched. “Right. Have you ever actually talked to Elain about her feelings?”

“I don’t need to.” You reached down for your own water, ignoring the twinge in your side and the pulsing in your head. “She never stops talking about him. And they’re always together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already seeing each other.”

“Who’s seeing each other?”

The cool tone of Azriel’s voice washed over you and you whipped around to find him standing at the foot of the training ring, blades in hand.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips and you fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. “Um, no one, just some friends I know.”

“Who?” he asked again.

“Oh, you don’t know them. Old friends.”

The Shadowsinger raised a brow, sending Cassian a fleeting look. “I thought I knew all of your friends.”

“You don’t. I know way more people than you. Even though you're older than me. Not by that much, though. Have you talked to Elain lately?” Words were spewing from your mouth in the worst combinations. You were never nervous around Azriel. What in the cauldron was wrong with you?

Azriel’s raised brow turned into a furrowed one and he blinked, assessing your face with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a concussion?” He turned the Cassian, expression going from confused to provoked. “Did you give her a concussion?”

“Honestly, maybe.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” you rushed out, cutting off Cassian’s admission. “I was just leaving though. I’m tired. You guys can fight each other.”

There was so much sudden pent-up energy inside of you that you had no intention of sleeping, but just seeing Azriel made you feel like you were intruding on something. Which was absurd. Azriel was your friend and had been your friend for centuries. Just because he loved Elain didn’t mean you had to avoid him.

But this energy had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was telling you to avoid him like the Illyrian flu.

Making a break for it, you freed yourself from the training ring and attempted to skate past Azriel with a quick side smile, but he apparently had other plans. He caught your wrist as you walked past, glancing up at a “preoccupied” Cassian before turning to you with his wing out, giving the illusion of a private conversation.

“You’re not sleeping well?” he asked, voice low.

You warped your smile into one that met both sides of your mouth. “I’m okay.”

Shadows crept over his shoulders and along his ears. His expression shifted and pinched and then returned neutral. “You know you can come to me if you need it.”

“I’m okay, Az. Really.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Maybe before.

“I’m a paper pusher, Az. I’m not out in the throes of battle,” you jested, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “Nothing is that serious for me.”

A lie. Something was that serious—serious enough to keep you up at night for the past week—but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“That is not what I asked,” he countered, sliding his hand up from your wrist to turn your chin. “You need to ice your jaw. Cassian shouldn’t be so rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you said again, words a pathetic repetition because your heart was beating so fast now and you needed to leave. Something was pulling at your chest and you needed to leave.

“As you’ve said,” Azriel muttered, his fingers brushing down along the column of your throat. When his eyes flickered up and met your own, something inside of you lost its alignment.

You looked away before the feeling could return. Everything righted itself. You took a wobbly step back.

“Have a good training session.”

You turned on your heel and stalked away, feeling equal parts the betrayer and the betrayed.

“You mean that girl off-continent? The one from a century ago?”

Cassian hummed. “Yeah, her. What I wouldn’t give for a visit from her.”

“You’re a pig,” Mor replied, a scoff sharp on her lips.

“She didn’t think so.”

You were eavesdropping. You didn’t like to, but somehow, in the time you’d spent in the inner circle, you’d picked up the habit. Oops.

Technically, you weren’t really eavesdropping. You had been in the room first. It wasn’t your fault Cassian and Mor decided to speak very loudly with only a few shelves separating you. If they wanted privacy they should have checked the area.

“Is it that hard for you to get laid? You have to search off-continent?”

Cassian’s responding laugh was almost defensive. “I’m sure you’d love to know about my sex life.”

“I really wouldn’t, actually. You brought it up.” Mor paused. You heard her shift on the lounge chair. “I am, however, interested in Azriel’s.”

“Aren’t we all,” Cassian droned. “Pretty obvious that he doesn't have one at the moment. Hasn’t had one in a while.”

You felt your neck jolt at the reveal of that information. Azriel always kept his partners discrete, but you’d always known he’d had them. Many of them. You had no idea who they were or where he met them, but you would hear the girls occasionally... smell their perfume on a few rare nights.

“You think? This whole time?” Mor asked, curiosity raising her voice an octave.

“Mor, I think the sight of other females makes him want to vomit.”

The book in your lap was all but obsolete.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Cassian tsked. “I’m not. He’s told me.”

“I suppose that’s what having a mate does to a person.”

Your fingers became abnormally cold, the center of your chest caving slightly.

Azriel had a mate? No, he would have told you.

He would have told you.

Mor’s sweet voice slammed against your ears, harsh despite its nature. “Do you think he’ll tell her soon?”

Cassian’s reply had you standing on shaking knees. “Hope so. He’s so in love with her it's suffocating. You should see when—”

You were out of the room in a wisp, sliding out the small back door. The book you’d been reading was still clutched in your frozen grip and you held it against your chest as breathing became impossible. With a hand pressed to the wall and your head hung low, you sucked in air, greedy for some type of reprieve.

You were happy for him. You were so, so happy for him.

Right?

The book fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The pages collapsed in on themselves as it fell face down, and you listened to the paper crumple as your throat closed. Both hands now pressed to the cold wall. Why were you freezing?

This made sense. It made sense.

Of course Azriel had a mate and of course it was… Elain?

No, it couldn’t be Elain. Elain was Lucien’s mate.

Now you were confused as well as consumed. Your body was left aching from training and your mind was in a frenzy and you couldn’t even understand why you were reacting the way you were.

It was completely plausible that Azriel had a mate and didn’t tell anyone about it. He was a private male who kept his lovers to himself, so of course he would keep his mate to himself as well. But he did tell someone about it. He told Cassian. And Mor knew.

Your fingernails dug into stone.

Azriel didn’t love you.

The thought came on so suddenly that you almost looked over your shoulder. It was as if the words had been whispered in your ear by some cruel, vicious wind.

You had never cared if Azriel loved you before, because you knew that he did love you. Like a sister. You were Azriel’s family and he was yours.

But as the thought of Azriel having a mate invaded your mind once more, your shaky legs propelled you forward, running from the creased book and the hallway that contained all of the worst things.

You ran until you couldn't, until your toes hit the edge of the balcony on the far side of the house and the cool air of winter hit your cheeks. You had been so cold inside, but somehow the breeze felt even colder across your skin.

“Y/n?”

You gasped, whipping around and gripping the railing as it pressed into your spine. You couldn’t formulate words as Azriel stood before you. His hands raised up to his waist, reaching for you as he took in the way your chest heaved.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he rushed.

You only shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Embarrassment and confusion and a twisted sort of fear coursed through you. You couldn't look at him, afraid you would somehow see the bond connected to his chest—somehow notice things about him you hadn’t before. Maybe another shade of hazel in his eyes or a softness to his lips that you had never looked for.

As you considered it now, it was obvious that you’d never let yourself look.

Azriel was never supposed to be yours.

“Talk to me, angel.” Azriel’s sweet whisper brushed against your skin. He was so close to you. You could feel him, but you refused to look.

To see how everything had changed.

“Let me fix it.”

You heard the rush of wind from his wings as he expanded them outwards, followed closely behind by the whirling of his shadows, and it all clicked then.

The images came quickly, dissipating just as fast. But they did their job, sending heavy, hot tears past the tight scrunch of your eyelids.

Azriel with Elain. Azriel with Mor. Azriel with random, faceless women.

Him, in every iteration, with everyone that wasn’t you.

That’s what had kept you up—the dreams plaguing your every resting moment. And you realized then that nothing had really changed at all. That you’d been in love with Azriel for longer than you’d been in love with anything.

Your jaw trembled, your body rejecting the anguish that swept through you. Wind softly flowed from the west, swaying your skirts with a gentleness that made your breath shudder. That kind of gentleness was impossible. The world felt so cruel.

“Y/n, tell me what happened. Should I get someone else?” Azriel pleaded. “Should I get Rhys?”

Rhys could knock you out, and that would surely be a relief. You felt paralyzed by this overwhelming array of devastation. But Rhys would also have access to your thoughts.

You shook your head. “No,” you said, but the word was lost in the wind. Azriel seemed to hear it anyway. “No, I want—I need to—go to sleep.”

“You need to go to sleep?” He touched you now, something he seemed to have been avoiding. His hands came to rest behind your neck, thumbs at your jaw, and you pried your eyes open at the contact. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so ruined, his hair askew, his eyes wild and panicked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

His expression was beseeching you for something you couldn’t give him. You hiccuped your next words out.

“I’m—’m tired.”

You wished you’d stayed oblivious. That you had never become privy to the depth of your feelings.

This pain was immeasurable.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst #azriel fanfic

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zhongrin · 1 year

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a hybrid’s instincts

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, gorou, tighnari, (bonus) platonic!diona

◇ tags ◇ pregnancy, afab!reader, dragon!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ what's that? will i ever stop pushing the dragon!zhongli agenda? hahahahahahahhahahhaha hhahaha ha ha- no.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

oh? what's this? it seems like your pregnancy triggered something in these men. their more… "animal side", perhaps?

ever since baizhu’s confirmation - actually, even weeks before that - zhongli has been very reluctant to let you wander out of the house. or even out of his sight, in general (which is quite strange since with his enhanced dragon senses you know he’s able to locate you within the house with no problems at all).

at night, you sometimes wake up to him in his dragon form. sometimes it’s his compact form nuzzling and he's purring near your stomach, sometimes it’s his half-dragon form where he’ll place his head beside your stomach with his tail curling around you protectively. it doesn’t matter whether you’re already showing or not; your heartbeat and the little hatchling’s brings him a sense of comfort that he needs, lest he becomes restless.

his nesting behavior is out of control. he’ll bring you all the pillows and blankets, surround you with the nicest smelling flowers, make you always wear his shirt, and he’ll bring anything you want to the bed so you don’t have to leave the nest. the further you are into your pregnancy, the more reluctant he is to leave you alone. he ends up taking that paternal leave hu tao has been telling him to get. bless her.

gorou is just as excited as he’s alerted. kokomi will have to force her best general to take a temporary leave from the army throughout your pregnancy because he’s so jumpy and sensitive to literally everything and his behavior is making all of the soldiers anxious.

gorou insists that you take a walk with him every day; just something light around the block to keep you from feeling lethargic. he’s also developed a habit to sniff everything that will touch your hand. yes, that includes your supposedly harmless change of clothes. it’s not ridiculous in his opinion! it’s a necessary precaution!!

will snarl when a stranger approaches you and tries to touch you in any way, even if it’s just a friendly gesture. he would be so embarrassed and apologetic about it afterward, but only once you’re at the safe haven of your house.

are you a forest ranger? an adventurer? does your profession require you to venture into the wilderness? welp, say goodbye to your job for the time being, because there is no way in any cycles of samsara tighnari would let you go into the dangers outside while you’re carrying his pups.

walking arm-in-arm whenever you're out and about is a must these days. whenever a villager congratulates you, you can sense his hold tightening despite the polite smile on his lips. if it was up to his instinct, he wouldn’t have let you get out of the house, but rationally he knows you need to move around and breathe in the fresh air.

though you still won’t be exempt from your beloved’s sassiness (”you want me to get you coffee…? do you think i’m an idiot?”) as long as what you ask for doesn’t harm you, he’s at your every beck and calls now, no question asked. you’re craving for collei’s specialized pita pockets? he’ll learn the damn recipe from collei herself and serve it on your favorite plate the next day. you want to be carried everywhere? good thing he’s got the physique fitting for the head of the forest rangers. you want ten kisses a day? say no more; he’ll give you thirty.

[bonus - platonic]

at first, diona seems super indifferent about it, only reacting with a ‘hmph… congrats, i guess’, but her actions speak louder than words. you know how cats tend to hover around pregnant women and even lay themselves near their bulging bellies? that's right.

no, you will not be having alcohol. no, your spouse will not be having alcohol. no, all the people within five hundred meters radius from you will not be having any single drop of alcohol. she won't allow those boozehounds to get close to you.

she’s so amazed at how your stomach keeps growing bigger every time you visit her. when you give her your permission, she’ll curiously poke and stare at your bump. her hand will gently pat your tummy as she unconsciously smiles. she starts to seek you out more often after that, telling you that she’s just there in case you need help, but you know she’s just worried about you. she would be such a good big sister to your baby!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #gorou #gorou x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #diona #platonic!diona #rin writes #cw.pregnancy #tw.pregnancy #afab!reader

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moonsaver · 2 months

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I cant stop thinking about being a possible singer from the Iris Family?? Their family is usually responsible for the major "talent" productions that practically are responsible for the entertainment... also Siobhan as hints to what the Iris family would be like.

You were a singer.

Barely a singer, to be fair.

It was for the sake of your little compartment of a family. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you scraped out every last bit of your talents. The one which seems to be lasting the longest, seems to be singing.

You did what you had to. You sang until your throat was raw and hurt, practiced day and night until your ears were sick of your own voice, passed through every elimination tests that were conducted – all so you could have a stabilized, bolted place in the Iris Family, if it meant you and your parents and siblings weren't kicked out.

And, you weren't the best. And certainly not as good as Robin – the gem of the Oak Family. It was ironic, but it didn't matter. Not to you. As long as it kept your family secure, you endured. The comparisons, the hushed, barely pleased audience as they only took your performance as stalling time for the "real stars" of the show, the side-glances all of your other relatives threw your way. It was fine. You told yourself so. It was fine as long as you, your parents and your siblings were secured.

Risks weren't an option for you. Not when you had too much to lose.

Sunday has learned to appreciate frequency over output.

Times where schedules had to be rearranged last minute, performances strained and announcements elongated to squeeze out any extra amount of coverage for a missing show, routine dismantled and put together in real time as the neverending perfect show went on.

In all of those times, Sunday kept a usual eye on everyone. Their names, roles, status, popularity, preferences. And most importantly – their reliability.

You were an average performer. But your reliability was notable to Sunday. Oftentimes he found himself looking for you first and foremost for an improvised concert, whenever things even threatened to go awry. He knew perhaps you obliged out of self-interest or a simple fear of upsetting The Head of the Oak Family, but you were reliable in your own way. A simple glance your way and a nod was enough to signal you for advance preparation for improvisation, repeated song lyrics at the tip of your tongue.

If you were lucky, sometimes Sunday would repay you by scheduling you for an opening performance for a small-time event, or letting you in on the recent trends, the general public opinion towards your show, or even drop some personal hints for you to improve.

That was all you were. A reliable stand-in for when there were a disarray of clarity, disagreements upon disagreements, confusion stagnating the scheduling.

Until, you became so much more in a simple moment of disillusion.

A break is in order, Sunday believes. He clicks his pen continuously, the sound echoing in the vast space of the room, bouncing off of the sterile, empty walls.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

5 times.

Click.

6 times.

Sunday's restless mind comes to a small halt when he inhales sharply, constraining his fingers. His shaking hand gently places the pen onto the flat, neatly organized desk, back where it belongs. He rests his chin on his hands. Thinking and listing everything on his agenda for the day.

A tandem of knocks resound from the smooth wooden surface of the door.

"Mr. Sunday?"

Ah. It's you.

He supposes his asisstants and servants don't realize he's noticed the recent pattern as of late. Whenever something changes in the schedule that could possibly threaten to dampen his mood or displease him, they send you in as some sort of collateral. He's gotten used to your presence enough to not mind it.

"Come in."

Short, quick clicks of your heels accompany the entering of your figure into the room. Your front is warmly illuminated by the yellow lighting of the room.

"Changes have been decided within the schedule again."

"As expected."

He gets up from the leather chair with a subtle creak, the steps of his shoes muffled by the carpet. He walks around his table, fingers trailing across the ridges of the masterfully crafted desk.

"Can I ask a favor of you, as always?"

"Of course."

His wings slightly flutter, pleased at the response. You can tell, despite his back facing you.

His fingers trail and come to a slow halt at the edge of the desk. His index finger taps on the surface.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

5 times.

Ah, you think. He's anxious.

"Mr. Sunday?"

"Hm?"

His finger stops, you note.

"I've heard guests have taken more to berry-flavored items as of late."

He chuckles a bit, softly.

"There's an uprising trend. Berry-flavored items have been on the rise, and as such, food follows."

Sunday half theorizes it could be due to the recent intreview Robin had. Strawberry flavored lipgloss was something she mentioned in particular.

"Ah. I see. So I suppose those colors may also influence the recent fashion trends?"

Sunday hums, in thought.

The moment is interrupted by an abrupt knock at the door.

"Mr. Sunday, there's a few tasks that need your approval to go ahead."

The male asisstant's voice resounds confidently through the previously quiet room. Sunday looks over at you and nods. You turn to take your leave. You can only hope it was enough of a reprieve for him.

"It seems fashion trends are inspired, aswell."

Sunday mentions, standing beside you. His eyes are watchful, analyzing the current performance from behind the curtains.

"I see."

You respond. Making conversation was not your strongsuit. Sunday smiles slightly at your awkwardness.

He continued the conversation after a few moments, talking about color palettes, scents, and general observable trends. Your usual,basic gowns and dresses will now see a noticeable change, due to Sunday's suggestions.

He admits, even at times, he looks forward to them. Sometimes, as foolish as it sounds, he slips in a mix of his own personal opinion, thinly disguised as the "general preference", which manages to then take presidence over your usual pick of gowns. He won't admit it, but he secretly does enjoy sometimes "picking out" your outfits. It's never harmed anyone in the long run, and Sunday's personal theories of whichever color would look good on you are confirmed.

"May I ask.. what this is..?"

The artificial, blue light of the Dreamscape softly highlights Sunday's face, as he stands before you with a pleased look. The same, usual smile on his face.

"I believe incorporating a few gold accents into your palette may help."

You look at the black, velvet bag; the ends of it scrunched into a closure. Your fingers gently pry it open and meddle around a bit, before they pull out a single, gold earring. It glimmers wonderfully under the soft, blue light. There's a flower at the very top with an encrusted diamond, from which a long, elegant thread of gold dangles, ending into a small golden stalk.

You curiously examine it, slightly dangling it to inspect the weight and movement of the accessory.

Sunday walks toward you with a few, short strides, and holds out his hand.

You look at his open, gloved palm, then him.

You inhale deeply, before taking off your current earrings and placing them onto his hand, and gently replacing their former stations with the new earrings. Sunday places your previous earrings into the velvet bag, and glances at your ears, then you.

"Consider it a.. company gift."

How fanciful.

"Thank you for your generosity."

Sunday's eyes linger on your ears, then trail down to the junction of your jaw. His eyes close as his smiles widens slightly.

To be fair, he wanted more.

‐

Sunday has been getting closer to you as of late.

Because you wouldn't imagine ever being this close in proximity to Robin of all people.

Her lips are glossy with a strawberry tint, and her eyes are a beautiful lake green, you note. You also take note of the fact she's much more warmer and approachable than she is appeared to be on digital surfaces.

Both of you engage in polite conversation, her taking the lead, noticing your awkwardness. She's sweet, and understanding. She discusses general things regarding singing and songwriting. You take her for a very warm individual. It's no wonder she's a well-liked popstar. Talent alone can take you so far.

What you also wouldn't imagine is her managing to entangle you within her daily affairs. She leads you to private rooms, asks for advice on outfits, practice, and all sorts of things, despite the contrast of your styles almost bizzare, you oblige anyway.

And it's almost brazenly obvious she's trying to get you and Sunday to spend more time alone outside of work.

It's of no coincidence that she suddenly has to leave and take care of a few things or shuffle around a bit outside whenever Sunday manages to pop in and check up on you two. It wouldn't have been so uncomfortable if for the fact, Sunday's eyes are always lingering on your ears.

Once, he'd taken note that you'd been wearing them more often to your performances and shows. It can't be helped – you've gained more popularity and as a result, keener eyes inspect your choice of practically everything. Including your earrings. Your fans aren't hesitant to point out how exquisite and specific the craftsmanship of your earrings are, and it's not long before your fans have understood it was gifted to you. By who, became the newest sensation regarding you. Petty rumors were incriminating, but you suppose if it brought you more fans, it was enough.

Sunday chuckles softly when you briefly touch on the subject.

It wasn't long before he'd gotten you another pair as a result.

You only worry about paying him back, more and more.

‐

There are a plethora of thorns on Sunday's side. Many, of which the public, and many members of the Oak Family aren't privy to.

One of them was currently busy darkening his doorstep;

The IPC.

Or rather specifically – Aventurine.

What he wasn't expecting, was for you to be an exclusive invitee to his mischief.

You were rather in an unlucky spot. You had always considered your luck to be rusty, having struggled so much just for average recognition and a barely tangible career that's keeping your family afloat.

On top of that, you were being heavily persuaded by Aventurine, who was persistent in his offer to you. His desperation was more than obvious, like a nervous dog waiting for the bone toss, holding you in place with a firm grip on your arm. It didn't help that he'd forced his way into your hotel room aswell.

And Sunday just witnessed the pinnacle of this forsaken deal.

...

"Aventurine."

"Mr. Sunday."

After a beat of silence, you pathetically try to step in,

"This–"

"I see you've taken to familiarizing with my employees."

Sunday's smile remains well plastered on his face. Aventurine only smiles back.

"I was actually in the middle of striking a deal. There's always opportunities in the best of places, right?" Aventurine side-eyes you. You shrink back a bit.

"My employees are unfortunately off-limits to contracts from unauthorized branches. I look for your understanding in this.. complicated form of approach."

You watch Aventurine's smile strain. Sunday continues.

"Perhaps, if you are in need of a singer, I may direct you to an appropriate employee from the Iris Family to search for someone."

"That won't be necessary. I wasn't looking for a singer. You don't think that's all they're talented at, do you?"

Sunday's eyes slightly sharpen at him. Aventurine's smile becomes more genuine.

"Oh, you've positively ruined the mood. I guess it's just not my lucky day, and it looks like I'm not getting a deal with you anytime soon."

Aventurine's eyes hone in on you. You stand stiffly, your arm tense from the uncertainty your body feels physically.

His grip loosens, languidly. You'd think he was doing it slowly on purpose if not to tick off Sunday more.

"I'll take my leave, then."

Aventurine breezes past Sunday, rounding the corner of the door. He casts one last glance to you as the turns.

His footsteps echo down the hallway. As soon as they fade, Sunday's smile drops slightly.

"Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?"

‐

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chainelunaire · 16 days

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love languages

gojo satoru

recieving: words of affirmation/acts of service. he's completely fine being far away for a long periods of time, him being the strongest takes a lot. however, he greatly appreciates direct attention to his persona, and not necessarily in a sexual way. i'd say, expecially not in a sexual way. he feels loved when you talk your literal worst thoughts to him, when you express everything that goes through your mind. the most non-judgemental person one could ever met, he would never blame someone he loves for some dark thoughts, he's all here for it. he likes when you tell him directly how much you care, and even if it's worded quite rough, he'll still take it. that way he feels like he means something. he'll never feel enough of your thoughts, and of course, he won't ever be satisfied with how much you praise him. however much, he always craves more. he also appreciates every litlle thing his loved ones do for him. it might look like he doesn't notice sometimes, with him acting this nonchalant. but knowing how perceptive he is, he really does notice everything.

giving: physical touch/acts of service. he's very touchy, sometimes it feels like he needs to touch more than he needs breathing. he literally explores the world with his fingerpads. it's his first instinct - to hug, when you feel bad, to kiss to make it better. he's just as innocent as a child when he expresses his love through touch and without thinking. he will kiss the pain away, he will do your hair and hold your hand - honestly, he's the sweetest when he does such things out of heart. he also enjoys helping his love ones out whenever he can - granted, he's often away, but he does what he can. he rarely complains about chores in his home, in some way he even loves to do them. makes him closer to the ones he loves. he's very simple in that sense, he enjoys simple things in life. do not tell him he's the strongest. he knows that already. however, you might hug him and say that you're so grateful he did the dishes today - and he will be so happy, he'll do them more often just to hear you saying it every time.

geto suguru

recieving: quality time. he feels loved when he feels welcomed, when someone wants his company. moreover, he himself is very social, caring person, who does poor job at being alone. he loves people, loves to spend time with his loved ones, it comes natural to him to care about his family and friends - he's not a loner at his core. so even when alone time are needed of course, in his case, he really lights up from inside when someone is seeking for him to specifically spend some time together. he doesn't really care how you will spend this time, you needing him and standing by his side is what matters to him. call him after midnight - and he will always pick up that call and join you wherever you want. he will be by your side at your grandma's party laughing at her stupid jokes, he'll go shopping with you. he'll help you with laundry and taxes. he will never ever turn yhis loved ones down, no matter how boring or stupid you think the whole thing is. just show him that you really want him near you.

giving: words of affirmation. he's so good, it's unfair. he has this natural talent of finding the right words. he's also great with timing, he reads the room perfectly (probably the second best). there's no such thing as 'i didn't mean to say that', he only says what he has carefully thought of. likes to give instructions, it's one of his ways to show that he cares. very verbal and talkative, when in his natural habitat. he's generous with his praise, he believes in letting people now how good they are (if he really thinks so). and even if not, he will always find something to say to you. such a smooth talker, he will now every one of your secrets without you realising. not to mention he's like an ariel the little mermaid with his sweet soothing voice, it's just nice to hear him saying things.

nanami kento

recieving: quality time. goes without any saying, he values quality time above all else. he too feels very loved when someone seeks his presence. unlike geto, he's doing way better by himself and he's really fine being alone, it's just that he prefers not to be alone (even if he states otherwise). sometimes he finds it amusing, because he often is so tired, he has no fun activities to offer, therefore he's wondering why even seek for his company. sometimes he may think of himself as too stern or even boring, he has some insecurities. but he's very happy, when you express that you want to spend some time together, he's subconsciously waiting for it. he's very unassuming and he never like... expects you to want to spend time with him. so when that happens, he's ready to do whatever, just so it lasts longer.

giving: quality time/physical touch. he just kinda wants to be near his loved ones all the time, can you blame him really. he's very chill with quality time, but sometimes he wonders if you get annoyed with him. like you know when you want to spend time with someone and at some point you'd be like okay that's enough i need some alone time - well, never happens with him. he fears to look desperate so much, he's always so quiet. like there's no possibility to get tired of spending time with him, because most of the times it's just existing in the same room, and that's enough. very laid back and casual, his whole presence if very relaxing and calm. physical touch is very sweet and comforting too - like sleeping together on a sofa on a rainy day, holding you by the shoulder when going through the crowd. it's more out of wanting to protect rather than something else.

fushiguro toji

recieving: words of affirmation. i'm actually very sad about him, his relationship with affection is rooted in such tragedy. he needs praise more than he's willing to admit. of course, him being traumatized to the core plays a crucial role in it; he'd never heard that he's doing well, that he's good. anything that is not insult or a joke in some way. i think he could get burned once or twice because of how easily he could be manipulated. he's actually very wary of people being kind to him, but he can't fight himself when it's somebody being parcticularly kind to him and being verbal with this kindness. it's his vulnerable spot, and he can't do anything about it, falling for it every time. for instance, his first wife was very good with her words, bringing him comfort and safe place withing her company. he very much needs the praise and insctructions how to do... basically anything in his life. not because he's helpless, not at all. but because that's what love is to him, to care enought to let him know what to do, and when he does it, telling him he was good. it's insane to witness what it does to him, how visibly happier he looks.

giving: acts of service/quality time. he does everything he can, that's it. what he doesn't know how to do, he'll learn. he's great with predicting what you need, the absolute best at reading the room quickly. for instance, he rarely needs to know your face expression to know that you're mad (not necessarily at him), he knows it by the way your feet stomp on the floor (yet another oh so useful skill from a loving former household). he prefers to prevent the explosion than to deal with it. he has a mental list what he can do to make you feel better. it's almost like he proves himself every time (and it's a rather sad view, especially at first). with time he relaxes. when he's not in his proving mode anymore, he still helps whenever he can, but in a more chill way. that's when his wish to just spend more time together comes. usually it's just coexisting, but sometimes he'll think of few ways to make time more fun and exciting. he's willing to spend some money on a fancy place from time to time. and he can be surprisingly creative.

ryomen sukuna

recieving: quality time. never the one to miss the opportunity to learn something new, he's actually a great companion for a good talk or sparring (not recommended, in this case you might end up dead). while he's good being all alone, he genuinely enjoys a good company. he won't seek for one himself, but he's willing to accept the offer. surprisingly, he has a lot to give, you just need to find the right words. he's extremely intelligent (probably the most out of all), and he expects from his companions the same level of intelligence, otherwise why bother? he knows a lot about art and culture, he pays his respects to literature and especially poetry. you can always learn something new from him, and he likes when someone listens to him, like actually listens and takes everything he says to heart. when in a mood, he's up for a debate: if you can handle it, he'll be amused and even glad. as long as you are interesting to him, you're fine. he doesn't like boring stuff, that's what you need to think about. the thing is, he's not the one to waste his time on someone he doesn't treasure in one way or another, so when he does accept an offer to spend time together, it already shows his rather warm feelings towards you.

giving: gift giving/words of affirmation. because of his appreciation for culture, everything he gifts is carefully thought of and has it's meaning. if he chooses to gift something, let it be the best. he won't give such treasures to anyone, he saves it for the ones he respects (basically the equivalent of care in his mind). be it some book, weapon, clothes or some art piece, it truly means something to him. and because of his erudition, he expects you to understand everything he wanted to say with this gift. it really is some sort of language to him, you can say so much without saying anything. he likes to hear your opinion on them, he expects you to discuss them with him later. another thing, while he doesn't like to express himself verbally that much, he's actually good at doing it. he's generous with praise, it's more of a deserved-not deserved case to him. becuse he's so skillfull and knowleadgeable, he's not insecure in a sense that he'll withhold praise bc he doesn't want to come off as soft. he really doesn't care. in some weird way, he almost wants you to be better than him in whatever field you discuss. so when he feels like you deserve the praise, he will give it to you. and his praise hits just right, even when he doesn't say much.

itadori yuji

recieving: physical touch/gift giving. oh, how much he loves those hugs, i can't even tell you. he loves to initiate them, but the greatest joy of his is when someone he loves does this first. he feels so loved when someone ruffles his hair, fixes his uniform for him, covers him, when he's taking naps. he literally feels warm from the inside. maybe because it reminds him of his granddad and the fact that he's still not alone. he's still so young, going through so much, and he finds that he feels secure when someone holds him really tight. it's like a heavy blanket to him, like nothing bad could happen in that moment. also, he cherishes everything that has ever given to him. no matter how trashy it is, even if it's just a candy wrapper, he'll cherish it, if it's from someone he loves. he enjoys recieving those little sometimes meaningless things. they matter a lot to him. they bring his loved ones closer, like there's some physical evidence this was real.

giving: words of affirmation. while he's great at almost everything, his greatest power is finding the right words for every person he loves. he says everything kindly, easily, in a very lighthearted manner. never ever you will hear him being rude even by mistake. he's borderline unable to hurt anybody with his words, he's just that good. he's not the one to give a long profound speech, he's very simple yet very impactful. his words would have a longlasting effect even without him realising it. never prepares anything he wants to say in his head (as yuta or geto), a force of nature. he doesn't really say much, when he's not blabbering about something silly. in a serious setting he gets noticeably more quiet. not only that, but he really knows when not to say anything. his silence is very telling. he knows how to make that silence soothing and comforting, or deeply uncomfortable, depends on a situation.

fushiguro megumi

recieving: quality time/words of affirmation. he's very simple, he likes to spend time with his loved ones, and he loves hearing them speak (especially about him). he desperately tries to hide that fact though. he wants to be cool and unaffected, but in reality he's very sensible and reactive. he doesn't understand that that's what everyone love about him. so when he gets praised, it's such a fun scene, like you can see he clearly enjoys it, but still tries to act cool about it. he also likes to just hang around people he loves, he never turns down an offer to spend time together (even when he acts like he'd rather be home than here). however, he really likes some meaningful quality time, so if not you, he'll think of some ways himself. he doesn't like doing 'stupid things', it takes a lot to convince him to participate. it's good for him though, it relaxes him a lot more than he's willing to admit.

giving: quality time/acts of service. i'll be honest, he's not very creative with his ways to spend time. he's almost too serious (he has his reasons, obv), so what he suggests is usually 'let's do homework together', something like that. do not turn down that offer - he'll make it really worth it. not only is he a very comforting to be around, usually being the calmest person in a room, he'll also make it a very... nice experience. he'll prepare you the best tea he has, he'll bake you cookies to snack on while studying, he'll bring out the blankets. he'll ask you if you feel comfortable every five minutes, apparently. he'll tell some stories he never told anyone, he'll ask gojo-sensei to light the fireplace, if you feel cold. you may notice that at home even gojo also gets quieter around him - almost everything is much slower and softer. he very much enjoys these peaceful moments. and he likes to share them only with the ones he truly cherishes.

okkotsu yuta

recieving: words of affirmation/physical touch. he needs a lot of reassurance in his life, he really does. and he's not one for subtle gestures, he needs to really feel it - he needs to feel like somebody holds him safe and sound, he needs to hear that somebody understands him the way he is. he has a lot of dark, dark thoughts, and when someone is able to reassure him that these thoughts are normal, that he's still worthy, that even the best of people have something dark in them - that's when he feels appreciated and loved. he lives on praise, and, like gojo, is very openminded. he actually likes to hear everything you have to say to him, even if it's not necessarily good.

giving: words of affirmation/physical touch. has a silver tongue, never slips up. everything in his head is played so well, the words he says are always on point. bc he's so openminded, he can see everything from different points of view, so he comes of as a very understanding. nothing you say can throw him off, he'll listen to everything and he'll say his word. he knows the power he holds, actually, but he rarely uses it, because usually he's just shy. it's more of a last option to him. he saves it for the rare people he treasures the most - like his friends, sensei, etc. - around who he already feels free and appreciated. he much prefers to show his affection in more physical ways. he doesn't necessarily like to hold hands, it takes a lot to him to trust like that, but he can rub someone's back or offer a massage - and he's great at it. he also kinda subconciously usually stands or sits really close, so the shoulders are touching. he also likes to rest his head on your lap, when he's now really close to you. however, he really tries not to make other person uncomfortable, but, to be fair, almost all of his touches are featherlight and completely innocent. it's just a comfortable way to him to express himself.

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hayisins · 7 months

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# — oral ! 🕊️

how : alhaitham, wriothesley, cyno, diluc, + zhongli give head !

disclaimers : afab!reader + no specific pronouns. mentions of a skirt in cyno’s ! zhongli has dragon features ! mndi ! 18+ ONLY ! 🍓

#001 — ALHAITHAM !

his hands are gentle and delicate. like a wild animal he stares at its prey. alhaitham is fixed between your knees, watching your body as if it was some kind of experiment.

finally he stops staring, leaning right in close to your heat. again he stares but this time it’s not a careful study, no, he’s letting his mind run rampant with impure desires.

your grinding hips and needy whines fall upon deaf ears. alhaitham is not listening. slowly his tongue pokes out, gently using the tip of it to graze your clit. the gesture is so gentle it makes you shiver. he takes his time, slowly and calculated he devours you whole. ♡

— “i will take my time with you . . . just be patient, okay ?”

#002 — WRIOTHESLEY !

the duke is rough. every action he has is always full of greed. he can’t take his time, it might kill him if he does. so it’s no surprise he has you pressed against the closest wall.

it’s absolutely no surprise that inbetween ravenous kisses and clashing teeth, wriothesleys hands would be tugging your bottoms down past your knees. at this rate he didn’t care who saw you like this.

he will kiss his way down, leaving a plethora of bite marks and hickeys along the way. now you’re able to look down and see your adoring partner eagerly spreading your thighs and sucking happily on your clit, shooting you a cheeky wink in the process. ♡

— “i don’t care who sees, i want to see you break darling.”

#003 — CYNO !

it’s always the quiet ones you gotta look out for. the general mahamatra was more than skilled in keeping such a calm composure even when in a situation just like the one you’ve put him in.

you’re in the tavern, happily drinking and feasting with friends !! however no one knows that cyno’s hand has slowly creeped its way up the incredibly small skirt you decided to wear. for five minutes now his hand was rubbing lazy little circles when you needed him the most.

if there was one thing cyno was incredible at ? it’s eating you out into next week. the mahamatra was not only skilled in combat but also with his tongue. one by one more people started to leave. a perfect enough distraction for a very hard cyno to drag you to the restaurants bathroom to reward your patience. ♡

— “you did so well waiting for me . . . you’ll be compensated cumpletely . . get it because — sorry.”

#004 — DILUC !

he melts. it’s as if a lifetime of stress slides right off his shoulders when he’s in your presence. he takes his time, kissing from your lips right down to your inner thighs. fiery red eyes never leave your expression.

diluc is rather quiet during sex — unless he’s eating you out. diluc truly gets into what he’s doing to you. he prefers to do it in the morning the best.

occasionally he wakes you up by gently kissing your thighs all the way to the softness that is your folds. his eyes hood and his mind swims in an endless sea of lust as he slowly wakes you up with his gentle kitten licking. ♡

— “good morning firefly . . . allow me to finish here and then we’ll get breakfast, yes?”

#005 — ZHONGLI !

for a centuries old retired god zhongli is rather clueless in his ministrations. every way he touches you is like learning to read for the first time. gold eyes carefully watch and observe each and every gasp, whine, bite of the lip — you name it. he was watching.

the way you call out to him does a number on the god complex he tries so hard to deny. thanks to zhongli being an ancient dragon he also had a stunning tongue.

so here he has you in a field of glaze lilys, marking your body in light possessive geo markings you gasp at the all too familiar feeling of zhongli’s forked tongue working to gently flick against both sides of your clit. a satisfied hum leaves his mouth the more you scream and beg for release.

— “your body . . it belongs to me. your god. are we clear little lamb?”

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randomshyperson · 10 months

Text

Best (Girl)Friends - Wanda Maximoff x Rogers!Reader

Summary: Wanda sympathizes with your willpower. 70 years on ice is a long time to wait for an intimate touch. And being the good friend that she is, Wanda offers you some help.

Warnings: (+18), some vague plot, smut with virginity loss, Rogers!Reader following all Wanda’s wishes, power bottom!Wanda, kissing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, explicit consent but Wanda being a tease and a bit possessive. | Words: 4.893k

A/-N-> I’m pretty sure this was a request, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Shield acted as if they won the lottery.

In a way, it felt like that. Two Rogers siblings found on the same day would probably yield some promotions within the teams responsible, and a nice image bonus with the US government.

But while Captain America was found in a negative temperature on the other side of the planet, his sister destroyed an entire building with her sudden appearance inside a blue explosion a few hours later.

In your defense, you had no idea what was about to happen.

One minute, you were inside a Howard Stark-designed marine suit at the bottom of the ocean. But in Shield's defense, you were disobeying the orders of your director, that is, Margaret Carter on the phone, who five minutes earlier insisted that she would not risk losing another Rogers and that reaching the cube was not worth the risk to your safety, but you still put on the prototype underwater suit and dived in search of the item, which, to you, was the key to finding your brother.

You were right, in a way. Touching the cube with the determined idea that you would like to see Steve again really worked. The problem was how it happened.

The explosion was all around you, and you saw nothing but the beam of blue light that forced you to close your eyes. One moment you were deep in the sea, and the next you were in the middle of one of the Shield Secret Bases, a thousand of bricks flying around with the force of the explosion.

Your presence in the secret room of Project PEGASUS caused Shield to be on high alert, and a dozen rifles to be pointed in your face.

But it was all cleared up in no time and ended with your figure handcuffed on the seat of a government Jet on its way to New York.

Unlike Steve, you were awake. And not the least bit in the mood to follow Nick Fury's theatrical demands.

"That's to avoid shock, Miss Rogers-"

"Absolutely not, Nicholas." You cut him off impatiently, your hands-free since Shield had clarified exactly who you were. "The first thing I'm saying to my brother won't be a lie."

Nick sighed. "I understand it's a delicate situation, Miss, but Captain Rogers has been frozen for too long. An innocent fantasy is meant to lessen the shock of the truth."

You skirted Nick without caring about the speech. "There's no way to lighten news like this one. We're both in the future, for Chris’s sake! That it's absurd enough. No more lies, and let me see my brother for once. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

Fury didn't have the heart to insist, not only because he had another supersoldier getting him out of the way, but because of the emotion in your voice. He waved in dismissal to any soldier more curious about your determined walk, and no one interfered as you made your way to the room where they placed your brother.

Shield had begun to create a scenario around him that made you chuckle in irony. You dismissed the agent posing as a nurse with a look, and Nick allowed you to be alone in the room, and without wasting any time, you made your way to the bed.

Steve looked the same as he did the day he disappeared, and you felt a sob break in your throat. Maybe the sound woke him up.

He opened confused eyes at you, and unlike him, you had aged a lot since the last time he had seen you when you were still a child.

"Hey, Stevie." Your greeting came hoarsely, laden with emotion. Steve took a moment to recognize you.

"Y/N?" He asked, tense and startled. You could almost see the gears of his brain working, the way he tried to recognize his surroundings as well. "God, how long have I...?"

"Longer than you can imagine, big brother. Much longer." You replied before hugging him tightly.

This must have been the last entirely friendly interaction you had with your brother, a reunion bittersweet for its peculiarities that was unable to conciliate years of differences between the two of you. Nor did the ice erase your hurt over Steve sending you away from the war when your parents passed away, or make you forget the years of training and working for Shield in search of him once you were back in Brooklyn. Nor did it change Steve's view of how he wanted to protect and keep out of trouble - which included superhero work - his younger sister who he had vowed to take care of.

But it was indeed an undeniable amusement to the rest of the team that the personalities of the Rogers siblings were so blatantly different, and it caused some apprehension every time Steve had to witness you leaving the tower in some sports car borrowed from Tony Stark while dressed in leather jackets borrowed from Natasha Romanoff.

The apex that you were entirely corrupted for all that he expected from a proper 1950s girl came in the addition of a certain angry witch to the team a while later.

Of course, the close age - if one ignores the years between the time jump and your arrival - you and Wanda had made your friendship an inevitability. But this doesn't mean that witnessing your clear crush on the new Avenger wasn't giving your older brother a headache.

Natasha thinks he deserved some credit. Considering he was a white man from the 1950s who was frozen before appearing in a new century, Steve was pretty open-minded. She was pretty sure this was due to the closet years of keeping a secret crush on his best friend, but she wouldn't be mean enough to torment Steve with that.

And besides this, you were also getting used to the new century. And with the possibility of being able to have feelings for Wanda in an open and free way, so different from the world you lived in before.

The witch, on the other hand, had the greatest of fun tormenting you as much as she could while she waited for you to be ready.

And these teases came at every opportunity Wanda could take, from summer days at the tower pool where she had an excuse to wear bikinis around you and make a complete mess of you with the "friendly cuddling" which is how she came to justify the fact that your room was hers now and that there was nothing more platonical than sleeping cuddled up to your best friend.

With each passing moment, you grew comfortable and certain in your own feelings, parallel to which you became more confident in your powers and Wanda began to feel that the tables were turning on her every time a tickle war ended with you using your super-strength to pin her to the bed or you could effortlessly carry her away from a training session or conflict.

It didn't take long for the situation to become unbearable - Wanda was sure she would combust in the next cuddling session if she felt your body against hers again without that leading to what she really wanted, so now she had to take drastic action.

Communication was always the key to everything.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Your cell phone fell hard on your face. Wanda giggled at the mirror reflection: she was on her back brushing her hair and stealing glances at your figure lying on the bed, still learning to use the current technology but definitely loving the whole thing.

Snorting in embarrassment, you pushed the electronic device down onto the mattress and massaged your sore face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy seeing me like this."

"What do you mean?" She asks innocently, turning her attention to the ring drawer.

"Disconcerted."

Wanda chuckles mischievously, running her fingers through the options and trying to decide between the items as you stare at the ceiling. "I know you're like 100 years old, but won’t you tell me that it never happened? Not even when you became a hottie super soldier?"

You grunted in shame, covering your face with your arm. Wanda giggled again, this time putting on one of the silver rings. You were too far away to notice how her fingers were slightly trembling, giving away how she was equally affected by the conversation. But unlike you, Wanda knew how to keep it cool very well.

"Wandaaa." You grumbled, and she almost dropped the subject when you added. "No."

"No, what?"

With a sigh, you removed your arm from in front of your face but didn't risk looking at her. "Back then...I just, I didn't have the courage I guess. You know, girls were supposed to be virgins to marry, in theory. And well, I wasn't going to marry anyone because I was too busy working. And when I got into the army, the vast majority of the guys I knew started looking at me with contempt and indignation, and then came the serum I just...didn't know how to handle the attention."

Wanda spun the stool she was sitting on toward you, listening closely to your words.

You sighed shyly. "I mean I had opportunities, but I just didn't feel comfortable following them. I wanted... to be with someone who liked me. Not the super serum, you know? Most people were only talking to me because of it. They hoped to gain some kind of benefit from meeting the American Soldier. I don't know, maybe it's just me trying not to sound so... cowardly."

Wanda stood up with a sigh, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the ceiling until her face appear in your field of vision.

"Detka, you are literally the bravest person I know." Reminded the witch, bringing a small smile to you. "And there's nothing wrong with not being ready, or waiting for the right person. Sex is intimate, it makes sense that you want it to happen with someone you like and who likes you back."

"Thank you for being understanding." You muttered, swallowing dryly when instead of returning to her previous activities, Wanda sat down on the bed next to you. With a sigh and shifting your gaze to the ceiling again, you ventured, "Have you?"

Wanda's teasing giggle brought a deep color to your face. "Have I what?"

Snorting, you retorted, "Come on, you're the one who brought this up."

Wanda pinched you gently on the belly, smiling at your complaint. “A few times, actually.'"

It made no sense at all to feel jealous of a time you didn't even know her, and that you were somehow in the past, but still, a bitter burn filled your stomach. Wanda, the telepath that she was, seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, and without caring whether it would make your heart stop or not, approached you to use your torso as her personal pillow. With two legs on which side of your hips, she stared down at you.

"But it was nothing outstanding." She began, using her fingertips to wander all the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders through your pajamas and having the best time in the world in watching every single hair of you shiver. "I kept making the same mistake in settling down for mediocre sex. No real feelings, no passion, much less love. Always end up frustrated and having to finish the job alone."

You frowned in confusion. "Alone...?" But it only took one look from Wanda for you to understand what she meant and choke, your face pink again. The younger girl giggled, leaning her elbow on you to rest her chin on her own hand and take a closer look.

"Eyes on me, baby." She asked, hoping you would overcome your own shyness to do so. When you follow her request, Wanda was ready to risk everything. "You know I love you, don't you?"

You sighed, nodding. "I love you too, Wanda." Your confession was huskier than hers, and she had to ignore the sincerity of what that really meant in order to stay focused on that afternoon's goal. "Kind of the essential thing on the best friend package, isn't it?"

Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes.

Of course, you would make a joke to lessen the intensity of the moment, if she was nervous in all her confident glory, she could have sympathy for you, who was literally having to deal with your long-time crush practicing lying over you.

"Friends help each other, don't they? Especially best friends." She retorted, and you frowned in confusion.

"Yeah, I guess… why, did something happen?" Before your confusion could turn to worry entirely and you could finish the movement of getting up, Wanda pressed her hands on your shoulders and pushed you back on the mattress. "Hey." You chuckled puzzledly, but the laughter died into an affected sigh when Wanda simply shifted in your lap completely, in a very non-platonic way. "Right, whatever makes you comfortable." You mutter, very aware of the heat radiating from the girl's body on top of you, who just chuckled mischievously at your shyness.

"Relax, dorogoya." Wanda reasserted in a low, dangerously seductive voice. Her hands were on your shoulders still, rubbing your loose pajamas and somehow pushing them down to the limits, exposing as much skin as Wanda could manage. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to...but I also need you to tell me exactly what you wanna do and how ready for me you are."

Your throat went dry, and Wanda's dilated pupils were not helping the words to form. She bit her lip, seeming to have the best time with your clumsiness.

"I-I... god, Wanda..." You gasped and she leaned in completely until her breath was hitting your cheek.

"How about a kiss? Don't tell me you never got one?" She mocked and you had to chuckle dryly.

"You can be quite an ass, Maximoff." You murmured with your eyes closed, risking moving your hands to her thighs around your hips, the action making you both hold your breaths for a second. "I've kissed before."

"Hmm, I see." She hits back, deviating from the original path and letting her mouth tease your jaw, feeling your hands squeeze her thighs gently with every kiss across your skin. What Wanda wouldn't do to see you lose control...

"I like kissing." You confess hoarsely, mostly because she’s making you so nervous that the words are simply spilling. You kept your eyes closed and your neck stretched to give her more room to don’t stop. Aware of your words, Wanda hums again as she keeps depositing chaste kisses on your collarbone. "I like...kissing girls."

It should be a heartfelt confession, one that Wanda theoretically knew about but that you've never put into words before. But suddenly, Wanda bit down on you, hard enough for you to grunt in pain, opening your eyes. She grabs your cheeks with one hand, a hot fury in her eyes that makes you shudder.

"Rule number one, don't talk about other girls when you have one on top of you."

You open your mouth like a fish, babbling nonsense for enough time for Wanda to make a motion of leaving. But that makes you react. "I didn't mean to upset you!" You try quickly, hands moving on an instinct to hold her by the waist on top of you. Wanda has to bite her lips hard to keep from letting out a much more submissive sound than she would like when you just squeeze her firmly to keep her there. "Wanda, please forgive me! I-you caught me off guard, alright? I’m nervous… We’re friends and suddenly… you’re so close and I’m talking nonsense! Please, just… tell me what you want to hear.”

She huffs impatiently, crossing her arms and turning her face away as you sigh in defeat. Wanda wants to be annoyed, but you're so lovely when you lean your face into her, trying to ease her anger with chaste kisses on her cheeks and neck until you manage to get from her a stubborn smile. She has no choice but to uncross her arms to slide her hands up your shoulders, wrapping herself around your body again.

She feels you smile and relax completely, the kisses getting firmer on her neck until they tickle and elicit a husky giggle from her. Still, Wanda settles a hand in your hair, and the slight tug to bring your faces close together again draws a deep sigh from you.

"I don't want to hear about other girls, detka. This is your last warning." She says seriously with eyes glowing red for a moment. Wanda had hoped to have a direct effect, but to her surprise, a teasing smirk began to form on your lips.

"Wow, you're totally jealous." You accused and she grimaced, trying to pull away once more. But that only made you burst out into a teasing giggle, while your strong arms wrapped around her torso, bringing her back to you effortlessly while keeping her locked into you. Wanda was clearly aware of how shaky her legs were with the motion, and trying to walk away again would only result in her falling to the ground. "Wanda, darling, the girls I kissed must be a hundred years old by now."

Reluctantly and with a rosy tinge in her cheeks, she mutters, "Honestly, I was hoping to be your first." Her confession makes you rise your eyebrows in surprise, only to smile fondly next. Your hands moved again, caressing her back in an attempt to relax her as well.

"Hey, look at me." You call out gently, waiting for the girl's stubbornness to subside with the help of your caresses. Wanda has a stronger color on her face when she finally raises her eyes to you again. "I didn't imagine this was anything of relevance to you. But I haven't lied before, I've never been with someone intimately. If you still want to, you can be my first... everything else."

She twitches her nose softly. "You’re making it sound like it’s a favor for me. I only want to... if you do too." She retorts with a certain determination in her gaze, and though you feel your cheeks burn with the ultimatum, you nod foolishly before breaking the distance.

It catches Wanda by surprise, the sudden kiss, and you're despairing when she doesn't respond immediately, pulling away at the same speed you approached. "Sorry." You say mortified and breathless, your lips tingling. "I like you, Wan. I really do. I just thought you should know before..."

She places a finger over yours, shushing your nervous anticipation. Her free hand goes to your cheek and Wanda pulls you close again, her eyes darkening in a way that makes you shiver entirely.

"Like I said before, just relax, baby. Stop overthinking." She whispers before she firms her mouth over yours. It's a sensual, intense kiss unlike any you've ever received. Wanda seems determined to drive you to complete insanity. She kisses you unhurried, waiting for permission to slide her tongue into yours, and giving you no room to breathe properly, head spinning with those new yet so familiar needy feelings. She kisses and kisses you until you're restless beneath her, your body burning and your hands curious testing limits that she doesn’t impose, only encourages you to break. Her taste and smell intoxicate your every sense, the feel of her body molded to yours, teasing your reactions and almost making you lose control of your strength. The tight squeeze you give her when she sucks your tongue earns a whimper from her that sticks and echoes in your mind, making you dizzy with lust. When she finally breaks the kiss to breathe, her lips are swollen like yours, and her pupils are so dilated that there is no green left in them. Your face burns for the matching fire you find in her gaze.

You are unable to find any words to describe this moment, so you only stare at her, blushing over the smirk that starts to form on her lips once she catches the adoring look you’re giving her.

Licking your lips to try to gain some focus, you dare to ask: “Was it…good?” You would have added “Did you like” or “Was I enough” if Wanda didn't break into a giggle that shut you entirely, your cheeks burning. Before the shame could surface, she grabbed your cheeks again. “You’re too cute, darling.” She says, kissing you again more quickly than before. Her hands move to yours then, intertwining your fingers together to drag them on her thighs, down, and then back up, this time under her skirt. Your heart stopped, and Wanda turned her dark eyes back to yours, her voice so low you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close. “Don’t be shy, see for yourself how much I like kissing you.” She whispers darkly.

When she kisses you again, her hands guide you under her skirt until you're in her front. The mere contact of your fingers with the wet spot on her panties makes you groan and break the kiss, needing a moment to just take a breath and calm your nerves. Wanda doesn't wait long, releasing your hands to move hers to your shoulders, needing firm support now that you're so close to where she needs it so badly. She gasps in surprise when your hand gives a quick tug that rips her panties off at once, a wave of new wetness running down her thighs in the same second.

You don't say anything about it, just turns your face to kiss her again, the same way she did before, and somehow even dirtier and more sexual, drawing gasps with every flick of your tongue against hers.

Because Wanda's your best friend, she wants to taunt you - tease you about being better at this than you let on, but all the words fall away at once when your fingers fill her in one go. All Wanda can do is moan, choking on the kiss as she feels you slide into her with such ease.

"Fuck, detka." She moans with her eyes tightly closed, just as she pulls away to breathe. Your response is to just continue your movements, in and out of her without haste, feeling every mention of her warm walls squeezing your fingers. Wanda is burning on top of you and the sound of her drenched pleasure echoes low. You hum contentedly, nipping at her neck as she can no longer match the kiss, so close to her own climax. Your hand adjusts, increasing its reach, and when your thumb gives her clit the attention it needs, Wanda lets out an affected squeal. "W-wanna cum, baby. Please!"

You bite back a smile, surprised and impressed by the question hidden in the statement. You adjust to face her and wait for Wanda to feel the change to look at you too. The dark, lust-filled pupils leave you breathless.

"You can cum, sweetheart, you don't even have to ask." You assure her softly, never stopping your movements inside her. "I'm here to please you." You whisper, and it's enough for Wanda to break into an affected moan, hips thrusting helplessly against your hand until she arches her back and lets out the longest, dirtiest moan you've ever heard.

Her eyes flutter shut as she rides her high on your soaked hand, until she finally opens scarlet pupils for you, a long groan leaving her lips as the last sensations of the best orgasm she ever had fade away.

Wanda turns her full attention to you in the next second, stealing quick but intense kisses until a husky giggle leaves her lips and tickles yours.

"You're too good at this for your own good." She prompts, and the compliment takes a heartfelt giggle from you. You try to relax under her gaze but Wanda's dilated eyes have a different twinkle as she holds your cheeks more firmly. "I think I want to keep you all to myself. Without sharing with anybody else. What do you say, baby?"

You swallow dry, suddenly quite vulnerable "H-hm, like... dating?" You retort in a weak tone of voice because you need to confirm and well the idea that someone as unbelievably awesome as Wanda Maximoff is actually asking for exclusivity with you seems too freaking surreal not to confirm. As many times as necessary.

Wanda giggles mischievously, settling herself on top of your fingers that never left her and sighing as she feels you even deeper than before. "Yeah, just like that." She moans, and you're not sure if she's answering your question or guiding you through the motions, but you get the impression that the answer goes both ways.

It's not like you will contradict your new girlfriend any further.

Before Wanda could indulge in the sensation again, however, she stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist. Raising curious eyes to the breathless flushed girl on top of you, your first reaction was to check if you had done something wrong, and by god, hurt her. But Wanda bit back a smile, her other hand going down to your belt.

"We're overdressed, honey." She whispered against your lips, red sparkles playing with the edge of your shirts, teasing them upward. " Strip."

Moaning low against her mouth, Wanda almost didn't let you pull away. In record time, your clothes were off and so were hers, between stolen panting kisses you fell to the mattress again, curious hands urging together.

Wanda pinned you beneath her with no effort despite your super strength, and feeling her naked against your skin drove you to the brink of insanity. She swallowed each moan with her mouth, appreciating the increasingly needy sounds as she fit against your hips, and began to move hers.

Soon, the friction became unbearably arousing and you had to clutch at the sheet, and the headboard. A hot, tight knot at the tip of your stomach left you breathless, every movement of Wanda's hips into yours, the perfect fit between your cunts was enough to make you choke.

You practically meowed when she got the rhythm right. "O-oh god Wanda! T-there's something... fuck, I can't-"

"I know baby, just let go for me." She panted, her hands clenching the sheet on either side of your head, her hips frantic against yours. "Fuck, you feel amazing" She moans a confession, smiling satisfied at your expression of pure bliss beneath her.

Suddenly the knot bursts, and you're blinded by the pleasure of your first orgasm for a full moment. The headboard snaps in your left hand and Wanda cums in a loud, animalistic moan, spilling herself down on you before collapsing heavily onto your torso, your panting breaths mingling like your juices.

You try to recover together from the intensity of the climax, your hand finding her back on instinct to stroke her as Wanda nestles closer against you, an exhausted, satisfied smile on her lips.

She barely had a chance to lift her face to kiss you when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

"Kid, is everything all right in here I heard something breaking-'"

You nearly knocked Wanda off the bed in an attempt to cover the two of you with the comforter - and the mattress lost a few springs in the process.

The two Avengers who'd entered the room covered their faces with their hands, but unlike your brother, Natasha was holding back her laughter.

"I'm sorry. We... I... you-"

"Come on Captain, we're leaving." Natasha cut Steve off with a pat on the shoulder, leading the way backward. "Sorry girls, lock the door next time. And well, use protection!" She burst out laughing, ignoring the embarrassed grumbles from you and Wanda, and closing the door.

With the safety of a locked door, you hid your face in your pillow.

"Great, the best day of my life might be ruined because my brother is going to have a stroke." You grumbled, getting a hearty laugh from the other.

Wanda adjusted herself, stroking your hair until you looked at her again. "Best day of your life, huh? I'm flattered." She teases, smiling at the red that appears on your cheeks.

"As if you weren't cocky enough." You retort in the same tone, adjusting to hold her by the waist and pull her to you, getting on top now. Wanda sighs softly, even warmer with the addition of the blanket now, she finds it kind of hard to concentrate, much more talk. "Thank you, Wands."

Your line surprises her. "For what?"

"For being my first time." You clarify with a shrug, though your gaze was intense. "I've always wanted it to be with someone special, someone I like and trust. And there's no one I love more than you."

Wanda kisses you because she doesn't want to be the type to cry during sex, and she's pretty sure she would. You don't mind, she transmits the feeling through action and well, there are other things you're dying to do other than talk.

There will be time for confessions later.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #marvel oneshots #elizabeth olsen x reader

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 months

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!xavier, reader has negative thoughts, implications of depression (not explicitly stated/mentioned), implication of self-harm (scars) (not detailed), slight arguing (ish), cuddling, praise and reassurance, kissing and making out, nipple play, slight clit play, fingering, soft and lazy foreplay, use of pet names "angel" "princess", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((slightly unedited))

note : the depiction of depression in this work does not mean to generalize; please keep in mind that different people can experience depression very differently!

wc : 6.1k

youtiful masterlist | works masterlist

You blew your hair out of your face as you walked quietly, your footsteps moving slow as you climbed the staircase of your apartment complex. Your hand was loosely holding the upper arm opposite to it, and you sighed.

You couldn't even practice your own profession without making things harder for everyone.

You bit back a grimace recalling the low-level Wanderer that you had even barely managed to kill—how embarrassing! Sure, maybe it had been particularly difficult for you to get proper sleep, and, sure, maybe it had been just as hard for you to find your appetite enough to eat as much as you should be eating—

But the point still stood.

You were supposed to be an accomplished Hunter, and yet, here you were, walking home with wound marks from a Wanderer that most beginners could easily defeat.

If Jenna and the rest of the team knew...

You shook your head.

They shouldn't know...

You grimly moved your thumb over the sensor of your door lock, when your ears picked up the sound of light footsteps.

It was as if by instinct that you whipped your head around almost immediately, and when your eyes fell upon a set of very familiar blue ones, you almost felt yourself shrink back.

Xavier.

"...Oh," was all he said for a moment, stopping a few feet away from you, tilting his head to the side. You knew that look; he was observing you. He had obviously found the situation odd, obviously found something wrong and out of place with it, and you weren't particularly surprised—Xavier was always observant.

But you let your arms drop to the side, pulling down your sleeves to the tips of your fingers, and unfortunately, you couldn't help yourself from being a little awkward.

"Um... Hi?" You supplied, attempting a crooked smile.

Xavier didn't reply for a moment, and the silence made your heart beat uncomfortably in your chest.

And then,

"You didn't answer," he spoke, finally.

When you gave him a confused look, he gestured towards the pocket of your jeans, where he always knew your phone was.

You winced.

"Oh... Right... Sorry. I, uh? I was kind of busy..."

Your gaze fell to the ground.

"...Okay," Xavier spoke again after a while, but you heard him take a step forward. "I was worried, so I came down to check."

Another pause—

"What were you busy with?"

Your heart thrummed loudly in your chest, and you still refused to look up at him, in fear of making your lie all the more easier for him to dismiss: "Just a little morning outing with Tara!" You tried your best to sound a little energetic.

"So.... You're okay?"

You could feel his eyes boring right into you, and he took another few steps forward until you could see the tips of his shoes from where you stood looking at the ground.

"...Yeah..."

By some magnetic force, your were drawn to look up almost meekly into his eyes, and you knew instantly that it was a giveaway. You faltered when your gazes met; Xavier's eyes were always so impossibly blue that you could never bring yourself to look away once you'd started.

"...Hey... Are you sure?" You watched a small frown grace his features then, and perhaps, it was what triggered what seemed to be a pre-programmed response to any sign of disapproval.

You put up your best smile, and nodded your head. "Yeah! I'm fine! Great, even!"

"But... The way you're standing—"

Xavier reached out as if to grab your arm, but your eyes widened.

You quickly twisted away.

Feeling your heart beat faster, you turned to unlock your door, already taking a step inside. "Nothing's wrong!" You insisted, still smiling cheerfully at him. "I'm feeling absolutely peachy! Just a normal day out! Just, you know. Socializing can get tiring sometimes, right? I'll just, um, get some rest before the banquet later—"

Xavier was observant.

He was always observant.

You knew this, and yet, you had clearly underestimated it.

"...Your blouse..." He murmured, still frowning slightly as his gaze shifted to your collar. It was upturned, and you'd missed a button. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized that he could easily piece things together from this if you let him study you any longer.

In a rush, you reached over to fix your blous, and then looked back up at him with a nervous laugh. You put your arms in front of you to wave them with denial. "Don't mind it! I, uh... I didn't notice. I must've looked silly all day, haha...!"

And then you noticed your next mistake.

Xavier's eyes slowly traveled lower, and you gasped as you realized that your blouse had ridden up with your sudden movements, exposing a cut on your waist from the Wanderer that you had been fighting. There was no hiding it now, even as you cleared your throat and hurriedly pulled and straightened your shirt.

"You're hurt."

It was a simple statement, and the soft concern in his voice made you exhale slowly.

No, you thought, not now, Xavier...

"I-it's just a little cut. I can deal with it! I know how to treat my own wounds—"

"But you always treat my wounds."

That frown again.

Your mouth went dry.

"...Yes, but... This is... This is different, I'm fine, it's just... Just one cut..."

This time, Xavier's frown deepened, and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he pulled you in through your own door, into your own appartment, and pointed directly towards the couch—

"Sit down."

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching as he walked further into the unit and into your bathroom.

His voice was cold.

It was one you hadn't heard quite often; one he only used when he was... serious. And most notably, one he used more often with other people than yourself.

Your heart sank.

I've really done it this time... you thought, sitting down neevously on your couch and folding your hands neatly onto your lap. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute—he was upset, he was angry. He was going to come back out of there and scold you and tell you off, and you could easily have a fight right then and there because you were so needlessly incompetent—

Footsteps.

The door shut.

Xavier knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having been over so often, that it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for—a few moments, and he emerged from the bathroom holding your familiar first-aid kit.

You felt meek as he walked over, footsteps heavier than usual, getting on his knees in front of you... But he didn't say a single word. He remained silent even as he lifted up your blouse, respectful enough not to lift it unnecessarily high, only just enough to expose your cut. It's kind of him, you thought, the simple action easing your nerves slightly. Despite the fact that you had been intimate several times before, he would still respect your space—even if he was obviously displeased in the moment.

But displeased, he was.

There was tension, and it was undeniable.

Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest, feeling small as he treated your wound.

"...It's our day off," he spoke curtly then.

Ah, you thought, now he's addressing the lie I told him...

"...Yeah..." you whispered quietly.

"Jenna knows we have the banquet later on."

"...i know..."

Xavier looked up, frowning, and you bit your lip at the iciness in his stare. "You know, and yet you went out and got yourself hurt."

"Th- there was a wanderer—"

"And you decided you could take it on your own, is that it?"

"B-but I did! It's gone now, and I—"

"It's gone, and you're injured. On. Your. Day. Off."

You swallow down a protest, your lips quivering slightly. You didn't know anymore, if it was the sting from the disinfectant that brought tears to your eyes, or this unusually cold demeanor that you were witnessing from him.

Or, you thought grimly, perhaps it was both.

But it was almost as if Xavier did not notice as he cleaned up your wound, reaching into the kit to bandage it. He kept a solemn, expressionless face, and the silence was loud. Uncomfortable.

"...Xavier..." Your voice came out as barely a whisper, and then he shifted to turn completely to the kit, almost as if rummaging through it.

"I'll need to take off your shirt," he spoke somewhat matter-of-factly, but he still refused to look up at you.

"...H- huh?"

"How many wounds do you have?"

You gulped. "...Just... just this one..."

Another silence.

He paused, and you almost wished that the ground would swallow you whole.

And yet still, again, was the kindness from his usual gentle nature—because he still asked for your permission. He knew well that you never took of your top completely in front of him, always preferring it on even on nights he would make love to you.

...But something told you that he wouldn't be entirely happy to let it go in this moment.

You faltered when he turned his head.

"Don't lie to me."

He narrowed his eyes.

It was a simple statement, and a valid one—you had indeed been lying to him, since the moment he'd caught you in the hallway. And yes, you deserved chastisement for it. Of course you did! When was it ever a good thing to lie so much to your partner? To avoid them and their care? You knew you were being pathetic and he had every right to be upset with you, but—

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, feeling tears prick at your eyes again.

"...Don't..." you pleaded, your voice small. You closed your eyes, bowing your head and moving to draw your knees up to your chest, withdrawing into a closed position. "Don't be like this, Xavier, please... Y- you're scaring me..."

Another apprehensive silence followed after your words, and you felt yourself shiver.

But in the next second, Xavier sighed.

There was a shift in weight on the couch as he sat beside you, and then his hands reached over to rest on top of yours. His touch this time was warm. Gentle. A stark contrast to his earlier treatment.

"...I'm sorry, angel," he murmured. The use of his nickname for you made your heart skip a beat, and he rubbed soft circles over the back of your hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I just... Look at me? Please?"

In response, you loosened your hold over your knees, and grip his hand tightly in yours. After a moment, you raised your hed with a pout, your eyes glistening with tears that threatened to spill. But his gaze was soft again—so gentle and loving like you had always known it to be.

"...'M just worried, angel," he whispered, continuing the soft, comforting strokes over your hand. "I... You promised me last time that you wouldn't be reckless, and, angel... You've been so distant lately..."

You watched as his eyes softened into a look of sadness, and your lips quivered.

"I... want you to honor your promise, that's all. These days... In our missions, you've become less cautious, more reckless... More involved with work and more distant with me and with everyone, and I just—I worry about you, angel. I... I don't understand what's going on, and just now, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

His apology came out chopped, a little uncertain around the edges, as if he couldn't find the right words to truly say to you. But his voice remained quiet and soothing, no longer as cold and icy as it had been moments ago.

"Talk to me?" he pleaded. "Please, angel?"

And you figured that you should.

This was Xavier, after all—your boyfriend, and the most loving person that you had ever known. You owed him an explanation.

...But your heart remained heavily set in your chest.

You were hesitant.

"I... I don't know how..." You managed to get out, swallowing thickly once more.

Xavier's eyes were so blue, so bright, so kind as he looked at you.

Your gaze dropped back down to your knees.

"...I don't know how to do anything anymore," you whispered. "Even if I tried to explain it to you, I wouldn't know what to say, it's just... It's so much easier to ignore, to pretend like these feelings don't exist."

"What feelings, angel?" You felt his hand squeeze yours in a manner of reassurance, but you shook your head.

"Bad ones," you mumbled, "negative ones. And if I don't keep myself busy, then I can't ignore them. I'll think too much. Then if I think too much, it... it might happen again..."

Your chest felt heavy as you spoke, even as Xavier comfortingly held your hand, even as you knew that he was listening to you with every intention to guide you through... whatever this was.

But you really didn't know how to continue anymore.

How could you say anything when you couldn't understand it yourself?

You felt so... pathetic.

"Angel?" Xavier murmured, lacing your fingers together. "What... might happen?"

For a while, you didn't speak; you didn't move.

And Xaver did not pressure you.

He stayed silent right along with you, rubbing into the palm of your hand, his gaze on you so full of love and concern that it almost made you cry.

So you closed your eyes and pulled your hand away from him. You told yourself that maybe it would be easier if they stayed closed, and you slowly unbuttoned your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You didn't want to see his reaction... But you knew what he could see, on your skin, now.

There were a few cuts on your shoulder from your fight with the Wanderer, smaller and less concerning than the one on your waist. But as you slid your sleeves down lower to your wrists and shrug it off completely... he'd be seeing more scars. Patterned, and much too neatly placed, to be a result of careless fighting.

"Angel..." you heard him breathe out, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and sorrow.

And only then did you open your eyes, meekly searching for his.

"...I— I haven't done it in weeks!" Damage control. "I'm clean, right now, but... If I don't— If I don't work, I don't— I don't know—"

Before you could break down in tears again, Xavier gently pulled you into his arms, sighing into your hair. "If you don't work, you won't have anything to distract yourself with?" he whispered softly.

You closed your eyes at his warmth, and you nod.

"But... Can I ask you why?"

It was this question that got you to tense up, enough for him to notice.

"I want to help, princess," he looked softly into your eyes as he pulled back slightly, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. "But... I need to know how. Would you let me? Could you... Tell me? Is that okay?"

The mere fact that he wanted to help made you want to sob.

He was so... nice to you.

So kind, so patient—

You didn't deserve it.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, and you screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. "'M sorry," you choked out, and Xavier immediately held you close.

"No, princess... I'm sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I should have known... I shouldn't have gotten upset at you..."

Tears slid down your face, and you buried your face into his chest. His words churned at your stomach with a heavy feeling you didn't know how to describe. "That's not true," you whimpered. "It's... It's me. I'm always a burden... Always having to make you worry, when you've been trying your best to take care of yourself but I can't even keep a simple promise—"

You began to sob into his sweater. "Why, Xavier? I feel... I feel so worthless. How could I deserve you? How could I deserve anything you give me? And how... How could I be so selfish to want more of it?" You grip him tightly, almost digging into the back of his sweater as everything begins to pour out. "It feels... It feels as if no matter what I do... Nothing ever makes me any worthier of your love. Of anyone's."

And Xavier listened.

He didn't interrupt you, didn't speak—

He listened.

He placed his hand over your back, rubbing softly into your exposed skin, letting you speak until his consistent motions helped you relax slightly in his hold. And after a few moments of your sniffling, he gently peeled you away, before bringing you in for a soft, quick kiss.

Your eyes, blurred with tears, looked up at him confused.

"Nothing can change the way I feel about you, angel," he murmured sweetly. "You do deserve everything, and even more than that. You've done nothing wrong, princess. Don't apologize to me. I worry about you because I want to worry about you... Because I choose to worry about you." He softly placed a hand on your cheek. "Do you remember what I told you? I meant it when I said that. You are special to me. And I want to do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you by my side... to make sure you're okay. I'm sorry that I was so cold to you earlier. I'll be a better source of comfort for you now, I... I'm here, angel. I won't leave."

You remained sniffling as he spoke, and your eyes slowly drifted back down to your lap.

But you found the courage to speak.

"The banquet..." you whispered. "I... I don't want to go."

"Then don't. We don't have to."

"But... But Tara, and Jenna—"

"They won't mind, we won't be the only ones not going, right?"

You looked up, uncertain still. "...And you?"

"Me?"

"You... you said you wanted to go..."

At this, Xavier's eyes softened, and a gentle smile played at his lips. "Well... We could tell them I wouldn't let you leave me... And it wouldn't totally be a lie."

When your gaze had yet to relax, he shook his head with a little laugh. "It's less about the place and the activities... and more about the person you do them with. Remember?" He tucked your hair behind your ear and whispered softly, reassuringly. "Whatever we do, wherever we go, I'll want to be there. Because you would be with me. So if you want to go to the banquet, then I'd want to go to the banquet. But if you want to spend the night here, then I would also want nothing more."

You sniffled again, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your chest burst with warmth.

You truly felt so... loved. So seen, so heard, so understood—he was right; you should have gone to him for comfort when all of this had started, instead of trying to distance yourself from everyone you loved.

Xavier reached over to wipe your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Shh, don't cry angel..."

And then he leaned down to kiss you, nice and slow, and so soft, and loving. His lips moved delicately; nothing like the passionate kisses you sometimes shared, and for a while the both of you stayed that way. Just soft, fond kisses as he helped your body relax into him, relax into the couch, removing all the tension you had built up in your shoulders.

When you pulled away, you let out a soft sigh. He shifted and pulled you back against his chest, stroking your hair and murmuring sweet words of how much he loved you; how much you meant to him.

And you had never felt so... at peace, before. All these past weeks dealing with the void in your mind that you couldn't chase away—but here, in his arms, it was all minimized. Calm. Your thoughts weren't as scalding as they usually were.

You felt... Safe.

"Better?" he mumbled.

"...Yeah."

You closed your eyes.

There was another quiet silence before you felt him trace the scars on your arm.

"Wish I could help you relax more, make you feel more loved..." he mumbled.

You shook your head. "Despite everything I said, I already feel loved, Xavi, don't feel pressured to—"

"I'm not pressured."

There was determination in his voice when he said this, and you let out a soft, barely-there chuckle.

"Yeah," you smiled, "okay."

And he continued to trace over your scars.

"Angel?"

"Hm?"

"Do you still have thoughts right now?"

"Mmmh... A little bit. Yeah."

You tilted your head up to look at him, searching his eyes. "But... They're not so loud. This is... Comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Yeah. Staying in your arms like this..." Your eyes softened. "You're pretty comforting, Xavier."

"...But, do you... want a distraction?"

His eyes didn't stray away from yours, but you felt his fingers trail from your arm to your stomach, light, feathery strokes upwards towards your clothed breasts.

His intentions clicked, and you felt yourself blush slightly.

"Xavier..." you mumbled.

He didn't do anything more than stroke your exposed skin, never going further than you had given permission for him to.

But he asked you again, more clearly this time.

"...I could touch you," he gave you a small, faint smile. "If you want? At least... You wouldn't be thinking of anything too much that way..."

His voice trailed off as he noted your lack of response, and then he reached over to squeeze your hand.

"We don't have to do anything, angel. It was just a suggestion."

"...No, I— It's okay." Immediately, you shook your head. "You... You could definitely do that." You felt yourself get breathless at the thought of it, and you leaned back against him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

You weren't looking at him in that moment, but you could feel him smile as he placed a soft kiss into your hair.

"Okay. Then... I'll make you feel good, angel."

It was a promise, and one that you knew he could fulfil easily.

You felt him tilt your chin up next, your eyes meeting once more, and then he kissed you. Still soft, still slow; his lips moved languidly against yours as if to ease you into it. You felt butterflies in your stomach—this was a kiss that you knew very well from him, and one that you both knew you loved. It was a kiss that said more than just "i love you"; it was a kiss that said "i like being here with you", a kiss that said " let's stay like this forever".

It was a testament—that Xavier was yours, and you were his, and he would show you that he loved you more than you would ever realize.

Slowly, you pulled back from the kiss, the both of you panting. But you didn't look away, and neither did he—not even as his hands moved lower to undo the buttons or your jeans, not even as you lifted your hips for him to pull them down.

"Do you want them off?" he mumbled, still keeping his eyes on yours. "Want you to be comfortable."

"...Mhm. S'okay. I needed to change, anyway..."

When he'd helped you out of your jeans, his lips were back on yours once more—hands gently stroking your sides, tracing your wounds, and your scars, taking his time with you. Your eyes fluttered closed. Xavier's touches were so sweet, so comforting. They could lull you into sleep, and he was right; there was no more space for you to think of any other thoughts that weren't just... him.

When he reached over to unclasp your bra, he let it fall off to the side. And then he leaned his chin over the top of your head, almost as if to get a better look.

"Haven't seen these before," he commented, a little cheekily.

You rolled your eyes—if you weren't nestled so comfortably in his embrace, you'd have reached up to hit him in indignance. "...Don't act all innocent," you mumbled.

"Hm? Wasn't acting, angel." He cupped your breasts, humming slightly, still keeping his eyes on them. You felt him gently massage them in his hands, and you let out a sigh. "They're so soft. It's different from touching them through your shirt."

"Xavier..."

He chuckled, leaning back up to give you another kiss. "I know. This... is why you've always wanted to keep your shirt on, right? Your... scars."

You felt your stomach churn with guilt for a split second, before your body shuddered and melted into the way his hands worked at your chest.

"...D- didn't want you to know..." you breathed out. "'S not easy to say..."

"I know. But thank you for telling me, angel. You can tell me anything, alright? We'll work through this together."

Together. We.

He wasn't saying that it was... your problem. He was saying it was on the both of you—that you weren't alone, and that he would be with you every step away... And it was such a sweet thing for him to say. His words touched your heart, and you felt yourself letting out a shaky breath.

"...Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

He leaned back down to suckle over your collarbone, then, nibbling gently over your skin. It was enough to draw out a soft moan from you.

"Ah... That feels nice..."

In response, his fingers brushed over your nipples. The sudden direct stimulation made you gasp—

And you understood what he meant.

It was different, like this. Now, without any fabric as a barrier, the pads of his fingers rubbed oh-so-perfectly over your little nubs, and it felt... good.

Better than you were used to.

Xavier hummed as he rest his head back on your shoulder, watching the way your breasts molded into his palm, your nipples pert and hard as he began to twist and pinch them in his hands.

"They're pretty up close," he stated again, a little matter-of-factly. "We should do this more often..."

Another pull at your nipples, and you moaned.

"Mmh, shit—yes—"

You wanted to retort, but instead, you found yourself arching your back further into his hands. Your eyes clouded over slightly.

"Yeah? Feels nice?" he murmured.

"Mhm... Feels real nice, Xav..."

He nuzzled into your neck, a soft, loving action despite what he was doing to your body.

"D'you think you could cum like this? Or do you need more?"

His motions remained steady as he spoke, his eyes flitting over your figure. And you, on the other hand, felt your breath come out in a long exhale.

You closed your eyes.

"...More."

And he smiled.

You could feel it, the way the corners of his lips turned up against your skin where he placed light kisses on the base of your neck. And then he kept one hand on your breast, his other hand began to trail slowly down your stomach.

Your body jolted slightly at the change, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps before they settled over your thigh. His hand stayed stationed there, squeezing it gently... Never quite moving upwards, not just yet. He was still quite far from where you wanted him like this, and you huffed with displeasure.

"Can I tease?" he asked, and you could feel his smile widen.

You groaned.

"No! M'already wet."

"But I want to take my time with you, princess. You're so... beautiful."

The way he moaned in your ear, kneading your thighs, made you shiver with excitement. He'd been asking you if he could tease... Yet here he was, already doing it anyway.

You grit your teeth. "I need you, Xavi."

"But... Please? It'll prolong the pleasure, you know?"

"...Why are you begging me?"

You scoffed this time, and he chuckled, his breath hitting the shell of your ear.

"I just like the way your body responds to me. You know that."

Once again, you felt that you could have smacked him on the head if you had any remaining ounce of control over your body, but you only bucked your hips forward in a failed attempt to chase his fingers. The way he laughed at you made you glare at him indignantly—It was almost like a little apology on his part when he leaned in for a quick, quick kiss, his hand sliding just a little bit further up your thigh.

"I love you, okay, angel?" he sighed. "Just... wanted to let you know that, again."

You huffed slightly.

"I know, Xavier. And I love you. But as much as I want to say thank you, I just really, really need your fingers inside me. ...Please?"

Impatience was not a look you favored on yourself, but Xavier didn't mind it—he never minded if you preferred to be quiet, or vocal, or demanding, or receptive... Xavier, despite the way he would tease, had always been driven by the need to please you.

So he finally complied with your request.

You felt him gently bring your knees up closer to your chest, feet close together before he pushed your knees apart, and then he let out a low groan. With you spread out effectively for him, he reached over to gather your slick onto his finger.

"So beautiful for me, angel," he nibbled on your ear, making you shiver. "And so, so wet."

In response, you moaned, allowing your head to lull slightly to the side as he spread your juices all over your cunt in gentle strokes. "I told you," you spoke in a hushed tone.

"Hmm... and what's on your mind now, angel?" His breath was still so close to your ear as he spoke, his tone low, and raspy—sultry, like it always was when you did things like this.

"You."

You didn't hesitate to answer, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp when his middle finger slid inside with a wet squelch.

"Mhm? And?"

"...Y- your fingers..."

He slowly dragged his finger out before thrusting back in, his breath hot and heavy. You could feel him smile.

"Anything else, angel?"

He could have almost been cooing at this point, and it was driving you insane. You groaned in frustration, lifting your hips slightly as if to get from him the stimulation you needed.

"Nothing," you moaned as you felt his thumb reach up to brush against your clit. Slow, thrusting motions, and occassional rubs—it was driving you insane. "N-nothing else, Xav, just— just how good you're making me feel—"

He let out a satisfied chuckle then, drawing his finger out and having then drip with your arousal:

"Good."

Your eyes flew wide open as he thrust back into you, moving his finger relentlessly inside as if to explore your walls. It was barely seconds before his index finger pushed right inside your tight hole as well, filling you up in a way that you couldn't do to yourself. His fingers were so long, so much better than your own, and no matter how many times he fingered you, you could never, ever tire of it.

He picked up the pace as your hips met his thrusts.

"F- fuck!" you cursed, panting as he did just that with his fingers, his thumb still circling over your clit, his other hand still avidly toying with your breast and your nipple.

The combined stimulation clouded your brain; he felt so damn good. If, when he'd just started, he had already chased away any foreign thoughts—now, your mind had nearly frozen white. Your mouth hung open as a testament to your pleasure, and he panted into your ear all the same, almost as if he were just as affected.

His fingers continued to pump into you, stretching you wide, curling against your sensitive spot, rubbing you in all the right places. Your legs began to shake, and he lightly licked at the shell of your ear.

"Close?" he murmured, having already memorized the telltale signs of the onset of your orgasm.

You could only nod, choking back a moan.

And then his lips were back on yours.

A little more frantic in his kisses this time, as he fucked you harder with his fingers, pinching and pulling and rolling your nipples—

"M-mmf—!"

You let out a muffled moan, swallowed into the kiss as you came. Your back arched, your body shuddering; a wave of pleasure came crashing into you with such force that it had you feeling shocked.

When he pulled back, the both of you were panting, your eyes clouded and hazy, his fingers wet and sticky when he slid them out of your cunt.

"...Better, princess?" he whispered, and there was another cheeky, cheeky grin on his face.

You smiled back at him, and he leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Much."

With a soft chuckle, he continued to place light, feathery all over your face, easing you out of your high, until your breathing became calmer.

"I could take you to your room," he mumbled, feeling you close your legs and cuddle into him. "Are you cold?"

"Cold? After you've just made me cum?" You scoffed, somewhat, but willingly clung to his arms. "I'm okay. But... The bed would be nice..."

Another kiss into your hair, another soft smile. "Okay."

He had you carried in his arms the next moment, soft footsteps padding the floor to your bedroom and gently laying you over your mattress. He took a few moments to wipe you down, before he drew your blanket up over your body, and slipped in to lay right beside you. He shifted your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Tired?" he hummed.

A pause, and then,

"...Yeah, kind of." You closed your eyes as you relaxed into his warmth. "But, you haven't done anything... You could put it inside me—or I could suck you off, or—"

He immediately cut you off as he gave you a small frown, and then before you could react, he kissed you almost harshly—as if to shut you up.

"Mmf— Xavier!" you gasped when you pulled away, your frown mirroring his own. "What was that for?"

"You said you were tired."

"...Huh?"

"Why would you expect me to do any more if you said you were tired?"

You searched his expression to realize that his frown was rooted instead in confusion, rather than disdain or disapproval.

"...But... Isn't it unfair...? If you just let me sleep like this..."

"...Do you want to, angel?" A small pout formed on his lips. "I'm alright like this. It's unfair if I force you when you don't want to. You should rest, if you're tired. This doesn't have to be... transactional, you know? We can do more when you want to."

The use of the word 'transactional'made you flush slightly with embarrassment, as you realized that was likely how you'd made it seem—you shook your head immediately. But his words, at the same time, gave you the space to lay back against his chest, wrapping your arms around him as the sound of his heartbeat seemed to lull you peacefully.

"...Sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean it that way. I know our sex isn't like that..."

You sighed. "I'll... I'll sleep for a bit, then? But... thanks, Xavi."

You felt him place another kiss into your hair, a fond, loving gesture, as he shifted to hug your body tightly against his.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

It was a promise; a genuine one.

Xavier wasn't going to leave you alone, no matter how many times your mind would bug you to think that way.

And you trusted him, and you loved him... and he had shown the same back to you—now, and always.

A tiny little smile made its way to your face as your eyelids fluttered close.

"I love you, Xavier," you whispered. "Thank you."

⁺₊ / an: inspired by xavier's 4★ card pair, "shining light" and "shining traces" !! i think we underestimate how cold and intimidating xavier can really get because if he was angry at me i too would wish the ground would swallow me whole 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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blkkizzat · 1 month

Text

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 (restock soon!)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of ? ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are.

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way.

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy.

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger?

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing.

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking.

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils.

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck.

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb.

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon.

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride.

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store.

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue.

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them.

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out.

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet.

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend.

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs.

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him.

But you lied.

You did miss it.

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended.

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too.

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face.

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!?

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!”

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention.

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you?

You roll your eyes as you scoff.

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece.

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer.

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life!

Your parents were even coming to this!

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up.

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji.

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was.

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!”

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables.

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden.

This was for the best after all….

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 months

Text

You Started It pt. 2(Buggy The Clown x F!Reader)

a/n: GMFU, that's all i have to say. this chapter was strongly inspired by the song Shikayat from the movie Gangubai Kathiawadi,

Warnings: General Asshole Behavior from The Man Of The Hour, Hostage Situation, Light Bondage (lmao), Some Good Old Smexual Tension.

Summary: The time for your great performance finally arrives, but the culmination will surprise both you and your captor.

Part 1.

You awake to the sound of music. Drums, trumpets and bells fill your ears, shaking you from some pleasant dream, where you could run free with your brother and his crew. Instead, your forehead aches from the way the bars of your prison dug into it, while you slept. Your legs are sore as well, dangling above the floor, wooden planks leaving marks on your thighs. Your joints crack, as you try to straighten yourself to the best of your capacity, an unpleasant shiver running up your back. Groggily, you wipe left-over tears from your eyes. The music wires itself into your brain, like a bug drilling inside your skull.

Then, someone yells. You know the voice all too well. The music stops immediately, and with a quickened pulse, you hear footsteps approaching the door to the backroom.

He waltzes in, a spring in his step betraying his barely contained excitement. It's been a week since your faithful conversation, and you haven't been moved from your spot above ground. Like a bird in a cage, he has kept you locked, visiting even more often than before. To feed you, give you some water, drink in the sight of you, pester you with questions you had no intention of answering. Truly, your purpose here must've shifted from solely being a Hostage, to providing Entertainment. Just like he's said when you first got here.

"Hostage!" he exclaims, as soon, as the door closes behind him.

"Captain" you answer, voice tired and still traced with the remnants of sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's not bothered by your sarcasm. You're not sure if he even registered it, with his giddy state.

"Today's your big day!" he jumps a few steps in your direction, wobbling on the balls of his feet,

At your confused, if slightly annoyed expression, he raises his hands, and that's when you notice the elephant in the room. A costume, folded neatly in his arms, one, you're without a doubt expected to wear. It's pink, baby pink and frilly to say the least. You can see an ungodly amount of ruffles, and sequins, and small golden bells. It makes your face involuntarily scrunch up. Never in a million years you'd be caught wearing such a pink thing of your own accord. But, as much as you hate the sight before you, the show must go on. You know it, and he most definitely knows so, too.

You flinch, when the Clown throws the costume to the side, lets it collide onto the table, bells ringing loudly. Then, he produces a key from the pocket of his trousers

"Be good, or else" he warns, and you nod, because what else can you do.

The soft click of the lock is like music to your ears, and as soon as the man opens the door, you nearly moan at the feeling of your legs finally being able to stretch. He watches from the side, as you unfurl yourself from the cage, limb by limb. Oh, the feeling of solid ground under your feet is almost too much

"I really cooped you up in there…" he muses to himself, and you contain the venomous look you were about to throw him.

Instead, you opt for stretching out your sore muscles, rising your hands as far above your head as you possibly can, and try to ignore the spark in his eyes, as he watches your shirt ride up your stomach, Finally, he clears his throat, crosses the room to the table and gathers the costume back in his arms

"Don't take long" he winks and points his chin towards the dressing room screen, tucked away against one of the walls.

Grabbing the amassing of fabric from his arms, and trying really hard not to touch him, you retreat to hide behind it. The screen is big enough to cover your body, but your head peeks above, and you shoot a cautious look towards the clown. To his credit, he hasn't moved any closer, rummaging through one of the chests at the end of the room. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something metallic and very sharp, disappearing into the inside pocket of his coat, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Your hands now shaking, you lay out the fabric, trying to get a good look at the costume, before you have to inevitably put it on your body. As you look at the full garb, it doesn't look as intimidating, as before. The ruffles, although pink and obnoxious, are flowing nicely with the entirety of the outfit. It is, however, much more revealing, than you've anticipated, and against your better judgement, you throw a single, judgy look towards the Clown, who immediately catches your eye at the other side of the screen

"Chop-chop, we haven't got all day" he smiles at you, full teeth on display.

Shaking your head, you begin to undress, movements slightly skittish, from the sudden anxiety running up your spine. The outfit slides against your body with ease, the fit being slightly too big on your figure. The expanse of your stomach lays bare, ruffles from the hem of the skimpy top tickling your ribs. Your legs are also, almost completely exposed, the lower half of the costume turning out to be a skirt with rather deep cutouts on the sides. It's a shame you don't have a mirror anywhere nearby, although perhaps it's for the best. You don't know if you could stomach to look at yourself in this ridiculous getup

"Ready, Hostage?" his voice startles you against your will, and after a couple of deep breaths, you step out from behind the screen.

His face remains blank, but his eyes feverishly run all across your body, taking in the image in utter silence. Again, anxiety rises in your gut, this time however, you begin to worry that somehow, this isn't enough. That this isn't the vision he has conjured up in his head, and anything deviating from his vision was sure to anger him beyond belief. You bite your lip in anticipation, as he slowly starts to walk towards you. Then, to your utter confusion, he kneels down just in front of you.

Silence envelops the two of you like a blanket made of tar. It pours into your lungs, making you unable to breathe. His hands are steady, as he reaches out and places them on one of your ankles. Your mismatched shoe slides off your foot under his gentle tug. Then, the other one. Your bare feet hit the floor and that's when you realize, you've begun to shiver

"The audience will love you" he breathes, voice quiet and reserved, almost unrecognizable from his regular, flashy persona.

Then, his hands retract to the inside of his coat. Your breath hitches, as he pulls out a golden cuff adorned with the same, small bells, which are currently attached to the rest of your outfit. Your brows furrow, and another, unexplainable feeling blossoms in your stomach, as you watch him lean down to clasp the cuff around your ankle, the second one following closely behind. His hands linger for a moment, and another surge of trembles runs through you. He's warm, and his fingers are calloused, but somehow, your skin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, you'd risk saying the way he softly slides his digits up your calf is enjoyable. Troubling and confusing, yes, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You sway in your place, as he rises from his knees

"Give me your hands, Hostage" since when has this nickname become so affectionate on his lips, you can't remember.

One part of your brain reasons, that it's a recent development, caused by the time you were forced to spend in his grasp. The other, more treacherous part supplies, that this strange intonation has been there from the very start. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

The tremors running through your hands, as you raise them to present to him, are honestly embarrassing. Your head hangs low, to shield your face from his gaze. It's no use, he can see right through you. The flush in your cheeks, your mouth falling slightly open, the shine in your eyes. He eats it up like a man starved. Reactions, that's what he's after, and with the way you've been acting, you've given him quite the show already.

It's quiet again, safe for the occasional jingle of the bells, as he gently locks two bracelets around your wrists, identical to the ones on your feet. His fingers toy with the golden clasp, brushing against your running pulse. Tension builds in your stomach, as his eyes finally look up to yours. You would've believed you were solitary in your confusing feelings, if his breath didn't come out in quick gasps through his painted lips. Lips, which in this quiet moment seem much too appetizing than they had any right to be.

"You look perfect" his breath brushes against your face, "There's just one little thing, that's missing, Hostage."

Your brows scrunch together, as you watch him reach into his pocket yet again. A beautiful silken scarf slides between his palms. It's pink as well, adorned with constellations stitched in with a shiny thread. Your confusion deepens, when he grabs your hand and turns your wrist up. Then, your heart drops.

Between the rows of small bells, you can see a golden loop attached to the cuff, identical looking back at you from your other wrist. You try to voice your protest, try to wring out your hand, but his grip on you tightens, and he tuts quietly under his breath.

"Can't have you flying away now, can I?" he weaves the scarf between the loops, and ties your hands together, leaving the fabric to drape in between

"How the hell do you expect me to perform with my hands tied?" your voice comes out much weaker than you've anticipated, betraying your growing fear.

To that, he looks up with a grin, yet his eyes remain cold, causing your whole body to shiver.

"You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

His finger detaches again, flying towards your nose and pushing it hard enough to make your entire face scrunch up. Then, he grabs a handful of the fabric, tugs on it to check the binds, and starts walking towards the door, not sparing you as much as a glance. And you follow, obediently, trying to make his head explode with your brain.

It's your fault, really, the feeling of disappointment and anger swirling around in your head. All this sudden quiet intimacy has clouded your judgement, and you've forgotten who you're truly dealing with. Oh, how you wish you could do anything to hurt him. How you wish, your brother would rescue you already, free you from this prison, not only physically, but mentally as well, so you won't have to think about this stupid, homicidal clown ever again.

If he senses you fuming behind him, he doesn't comment. And why would he? You're still following him, as he drags you through the stage, right to the middle of your future dance floor.

Your eyes dart around the place, trying to find anything, anyone, who could help you escape this predicament. To your surprise, and later, horror, the Circus is completely empty. Not a soul shares your fate. Not the public, not his Freaks, not even the Announcer. The silence makes goosebumps erupt all across your flesh, and words get stuck in your throat, as Buggy turns to face you with an unsettling grin plastered across his lips.

"I thought a private performance would be much more appropriate for you, my Hostage" his smile widens at your expression.

You want to scream at him, punch him in his stupid face, but all you can manage is glare daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly, the lights flicker on, startling you, as beams of light flow around you, only to fall right on the two of you. Buggy grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms. His enthusiasm would be contagious, if you weren't scared shitless by this entire situation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a one-of-a-kind performance" he whispers inches from your face, "My dearest Hostage will dance for her life… and for your entertainment."

He lets go of you, forcefully showing you away, and you take a step back to stabilize yourself. The lights focus solely on you, and in the brightness surrounding you, you realize, you can't see anything besides the middle of the dance floor. Cackling like a madman, the Clown steps back, his hands clasped in front of his chest. You almost call out for him, as he slides into the shadows, but any sound dies on your tongue.

You're alone, again. Your breath quickens, as your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. This is not at all how you've envisioned this performance to go. Well, above all things, you didn't expect it would happen at all. Your brother should have freed you by now, and while you had your utmost faith in him, you couldn't shake the feeling of deeply seated worry. Which is why, you had to endure this torture. So you can see your brother again, when he finally comes for you. With a determined expression, you nod your head at the darkness and raise your hands, getting into, what you hope would look, like a dancing stance.

He holds you in anticipation for a moment longer, as any great showman should. And then, music floods the stadium. Bells and violins, distorted slightly by what you assume is an old gramophone. You recognize the song, thankfully, your face falling slightly, as you remember the meaning. A love song, of course, about hatred and affection. Bitter-sweet. Your limbs feel heavy and awkward, but you start to move nonetheless.

He wants a private show? You'll give him one, he won't forget.

The rhythm picks up and so do the movements of your hips. Bells jingle all around you, as you slide from one place to another, clouds of dust flying around your feet. The scarf turns out to be a major distraction, as you're unused to being bound. It takes you a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, you make the fabric dance with you, flowing around your body with satisfying grace. The song becomes even faster, and you twist and turn, ruffles jumping, as you run, accompanied by the bells. Your feet start to hurt from the roughness of the floor, but you ignore it completely.

The song drops before the second verse, and you follow the rhythm to the floor. Using all the acrobatics you've picked up through the years, you begin to writhe in the sand, adding a clap and a stomp, bells jingling to the music. That's when you finally see him, crouched down right in front you, watching your dance with a tilt to his head and something terrifying swirling behind his eyes. It makes you falter in your choreography, makes your guts twist with a feeling too close to arousal.

Then, a glint of something silver catches your eye. It swishes through the air, and plants itself right between your legs. A knife. Sharp and polished to perfection, it embeds itself into the wooden floor, splinters flying from the impact. The scream you let out would make a Banshee cringe, as you push yourself as far as you can from the weapon

"Now, now" Buggy calls out across from you, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness" The show must go on, Hostage."

He sounds terrifying, like some demon from your darkest dreams. But the music still plays, and you'll be damned, if this is what takes you down. So, you wipe your forehead with the silk scarf, contort your body and stand up, straight as a chord. Now, it's no longer a simple performance. Your blood boils inside you, fear giving space to anger and, strangely, some sort of misplaced ambition. You want to impress him, you want to make him frustrated, angry. Dust flows around you, as you resume your dance, movements much more confident, violent even.

He stalks you from the shadows, producing another knife from his pocket. It shines, when he lets it fly in your direction, but you don't even flinch, when it swishes right by your ear. Then another, grazes your torso, as you bend backwards. This one nicks you right below your ribs. You can feel blood running down the length of your stomach. No matter. Your eyes still follow him, and he steps closer to the light. Another knife, inches from your left foot. And closer he stalks. You can see the tips of his shoes enter the spotlight.

That's all it takes for you to make a decision. You won't play this torturous game any longer, and as the music nears its climax, you close the remaining distance between the two of you, hands flying to the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly.

You're panting, so is he, as you stare at each other, all innocence gone from your respective expressions. Fury, oh, fury, you're not sure if you want to kill him, or kiss him, and as he produces one last knife from his pocket, the sentiment seems to be mutual

"You started it" a growl frees itself from the depths of your chest, and under your tight grip on his shirt, he shudders violently.

There's heat pooling into those blue eyes irises of his, enveloping you completely in the moment. But then, his eyes follow your scowl down to your lips, and you realize, you've never tasted face paint. What an interesting experience it would be.

This moment of tension is broken almost immediately, as clouds of smoke fill the tent, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly, something yanks you backwards by your arm, something puts a knife in your hand and something yells for you to run. So you do, you turn from the Clown, his figure drowned in smoke, and you run as fast as you can, without looking back. He screams some words you're too scared to decipher, his voice breaking. A disembodied hand flies in your direction, but you dodge it expertly. One more tug from the hand gripping your arm, and you fall through a thick curtain.

The sun outside the Circus tent blinds you, nearly making you lose your footing, but a pair of strong arms hold you in place, and a familiar head of ginger hair turns around to face you

"Come on, the ship is not far" Nami yells, and you can't contain the smile blossoming on your lips.

The Hostage, freed at last… Or so she hopes

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #buggy the clown #my writing #besties idk how to do a taglist soooo

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