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twi-liight · 8 months

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Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!”

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks.

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.”

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.”

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate.

“Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm.

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!”

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words.

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips.

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?”

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.”

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds, “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.”

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.”

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?”

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.”

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something.

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?”

Yes. They all nod their heads.

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.”

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.”

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.”

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind.

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting.

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined.

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.”

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone.

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke.

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.”

Excellent.

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!”

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.”

“Karlach!”

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.”

“Gale?!”

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!”

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gale x reader #gale x you #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x you #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x you #karlach x reader #karlach x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #poor nilmorn. just wanted to sell his lil instruments. dies because he smiles too prettily

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luvring · 2 months

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CALLING THEM "DUDE"

gn!reader | oikawa, akaashi, suna, atsumu, aone

OIKAWA, predictably, lets his jaw drop and acts as if you’ve broken up with him. he teeters between draping his entire body over yours and whining, or crossing his arms and huffing while turning away. calling you dude feels foreign on his tongue, an insult to you, in tooru’s mind. but he’s nothing if not a little petty, and will call you it until you apologize.

“thanks, dude.”

tooru freezes, plate of cut up fruit in his right hand that mere moments ago, he pictured he’d be feeding you. but now—“dude?”

off the court, he’s nothing but predictable. you bait him with a smile. “yeah?”

“no! what- you called me dude! me?!” tooru holds his free hand to his chest.

“tooru—”

“oh, now i’m tooru? sorry, only the love of my life can call me that and be fed fruit from my personalized platter, bro i don’t know.”

AKAASHI cares a little—it feels kind of awkward and he finds himself overthinking the term. but once he’s comfortable, he can tell if it’s just something you say or if you’re messing with him, in which case he’ll have a knowing smile as he refers to you as his friend. but if he’s tired, he’ll drag out the bit just long enough to make you regret it.

“you okay, dude?” you ask as he finally comes out from the washroom, ready for bed.

keiji doesn’t respond, the pout on his face and his slow steps speaking for themselves. he climbs into bed, curling into your side and draping an arm over you.

his breath is warm against your collarbone. “no, dude. i think we need to stop capitalism. can i have a hug now?”

wrapping yourself around him, you place a kiss on his head, hair more ruffled than usual. “i’ll collapse capitalism for you.”

“you’re the best, dude. love you, dude.”

“keiji, please.”

SUNA doesn't really care. the times rintarou 'takes offense' are for a bit, and he sounds amused the entire time. if you don't care either, he'll call you “dude” himself and means nothing negative about it. this isn't to say he won't call you "baby" or "babe" or even "hon," but he—in his words—considers a large nickname vocabulary to be diverse and for the better.

"what the fuck are you talking about, dude?" you laugh.

rintarou rolls onto his back to look at you as you rest against the bed's headboard.

he squints at you and frowns—the look of disbelief on his face isn't at the term, but your reaction. "you're supposed to get me like no one else as the love of my life."

you raise an eyebrow. "maybe you should try making more sense?"

"i'm gonna 'dude-zone' you until you take that back."

"rin—"

"what, dude?"

ATSUMU instinctively responds as if you were osamu, not used to hearing the word in your voice. as soon as it clicks, he's as offended as you'd expect him to be. it becomes nonsensical bickering as soon as you act offended, until you're both laughing and ‘apologizing’ to each other.

“dude, where is my towel?”

“huh? i dunno, why would i touch your nasty ass towel?” he asks, eyes honed in on the game on his monitor.

you blink, and a moment passes before atsumu pauses and whips around. “wait, ‘dude’?”

his expression mirrors yours as laughter builds in your stomach. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“y’just called me dude!”

“my nasty ass towel?”

atsumu’s own words finally hit him and he stutters, “babe- wait- i thought you were ’samu—”

“samu?!”

“wait—”

AONE’s gotten so used to you calling his first name, or using terms of endearment that he thinks he’s done something wrong. his anxiety doesn’t last long, not when you take a look at his hesitant expression and posture while he works up the courage to ask about it. he wishes it didn’t bother him so much, but he admits that he’d like having a special name, or just his first instead.

“hey, dude, can you pass me my charger?”

“...huh?”

“my charger? it’s next to the couch by your feet,” you explain.

takanobu’s brows furrow as he quietly picks it up and hands it to you. he wonders if he’s imagining things when you shoot him your regular smile and thank him.

a few minutes go by, and it’s nowhere near unusual for the both of you to sit quietly together, but he hasn’t sat comfortably since you asked for your charger. moving closer, you apologize and hold onto his arm. “’m kidding, ’nobu, just wanted to see your reaction.”

his body relaxes as the both of you lean into each other, and he smiles, albeit a little embarrassed. “that’s good to know.”

“...i like your nicknames for me more.”

my new tag list form if you'd like to be tagged! ^^ sorry old tag list. love u.

@dira333 i know u like aone.. i don't write for him a lot but He is here. thought of u. and @reverie-starlight u r of course my local tsumu fan. YAAAY!!!

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #akaashi x reader #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #aone x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader

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whoistartaglia · 4 months

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delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

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cherry-leclerc · 1 month

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stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?”

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.”

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back.

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you.

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh.

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec.

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why.

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways.

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive.

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles?

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you.

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose.

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget.

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half.

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.”

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps.

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake.

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still.

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it.

And he knows what to do.

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels.

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice.

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit.

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush.

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you.

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset.

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?”

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall.

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

“Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up.

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held.

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him.

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

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suguruplsr · 6 months

Text

Five kisses! Collect em’ all!

featuring.. Gojo Satoru

✰ ✰ ✰ Satoru tells a story to his students about how him, of all people, had the "most trying" time of his life. Which was trying to make the move of your first kiss in high school. Who knew dating the quiet cute girl in their little group was so hard? Yet, the ring on his ringer proves it was worth it..

,, x wife!reader , fluff , you guys play uno & monopoly , satoru is a simp!

↬ 1K Event Masterlist

wc: 4.8k+

— divider @/benkeibear

satoru’s eyes flickered to your form, you were washing the dishes after everyone had their fill. well, for lunch at least.

the kids (teenagers) were finally coming back into the house, after nobara and megumi had chased down yuji, who called nobara a “no-no word”, as you put it, and ran away using one of megumi’s demon dogs.

let’s just say.. yuji’s gonna need to use all of satoru’s products to get clean, much to his dismay.

“this is why you should just keep your mouth closed next time!” nobara huffs, her hands on her hips as she scolds yuji, who was slumped on your precious floor, all dirty with twigs and leaves in his head. “not my fault you’re such a..” yuji almost bites back, but pausing with the faucet in the kitchen abruptly stops.

“you’re such a, what itadori?”

you step out the kitchen, drying your hands with a towel as nobara beams at you with a smile, while megumi gives a shy wave and yuji pouts. “nothing, ma’am!” satoru chuckles as yuji fixes his posture, standing up and gesturing for the boy to follow, “i’ll let you use my shower before my wife’s floor gets dirty..” he sighs, giving you a quick peck on the lips while the boy follows..

after satoru got yuji situated, he was greeted with the sight of you and the other two teens sitting at the table, playing a game of uno. nobara across from you and megumi on your right side.

“when did you guys have your first kiss?”

nobara suddenly asks, giving you a.. suspicious? look, you’re not sure, but it made a giggle leave your lips. kids these days.. “maybe about a month into our relationship..?” you ponder with a confused tone, rubbing your chin and placing down a +4, making megumi scoff in frustration.

“actually! it took me nearly a year! just for me to get a kiss with you!” satoru jumps in the conversation with a huff, a hand on his chest and looking awfully offended. you and megumi give each other looks as nobara claps her hands in excitement. “wait really!? please tell me all about it sensei!”

and you give a sigh in exasperation as satoru sits at the dinner table on your other side, dusting himself off, fixing his hair, all that dramatic stuff and clearing his throat. “i guess i can tell a few stories..”

“the first time we kissed was—“

“wasn’t that indirect..?”

“honey! ahem, anyways.. it was in our second year of highschool, exactly one month of dating and on a sunny day..”

you two were at a small cafe that suguru recommended, dining on desserts and drinks that satoru was willingly paying for. he took you there after reminding you that it was your one month anniversary. and honestly, you weren’t sure why it was a big deal to him, not that it didn’t matter to you, but seeing how excited he was about it was a bit endearing.

really cute.

satoru watched you, who was sipping on a strawberry milkshake all in one go. you must be content, he thought. considering you’re all silent, which isn’t new, and just sipping the drink with your eyes closed. he almost wanted to make a joke about it, but he didn’t want to ruin your enjoyment. it’s was a big day after all! and he had to keep his girl happy as much as he could.

and as soon as you’re finished, head down and suffering from a, very much worth, brain freeze, he’s chuckling, “want some more?” “n-no thank you..” you murmured, feeling woozy from the headache and satoru thought you were so adorable. still are. he loves seeing these little sides of you.

when you were feeling a bit better, you grabbed a cup cake with vanilla icing and sprinkles. and satoru was cheesing, smiling from the way your eyes lit up. it felt refreshing to see you make more expressions rather than the stoic and unbothered look you always had. “want some?” you offered, feeling a bit awkward because of his prying eyes, but you didn’t catch the way he gave a sly grin, “of course!”

but he stopped your hand that went for another cupcake, instead licking some of the icing off yours. “satoru!” you scoff, watching in disbelief as he licks his lips, a cocky grin playing on them. “tasty~ i want s’more..” and you pulled away before he could take a huge bite out of the desert. turning to your side and quickly trying to eat up the cake.

satoru giggles, amusement flickering under those glasses of his as you ate up the delicious food. he was drinking his lemonade when you turned back to face him, somehow able to withstand the sour drink, but as you set aside the decorative liner, he realized that was your first kiss, along with a warming feeling forming inside him. his first kiss.

“..well yea..indirect. of course.” satoru chuckles nervously.. pouting at the loud sigh megumi gave.

“i think holding a girl’s hand is more intimate than that..” nobara has a stone face, giving you a look that says, ‘this guy?!’ and you shake your head, muttering a, ‘unfortunately..’

“he was and is, a loser. oh, uno.” megumi sits back, holding up his one card left as you and nobara give each other another look, determination. a little help won’t hurt right?

“maybe you should tell them that time you tried to pin me..” you suggest, holding back the laugh that almost escapes from the whip of nobara’s head, slamming down her red. “tried!? geez, of course someone like you failed to swoon mrs.gojo!” that girl’s expressive.. and satoru scoffs, standing up. “well considering her surname, i clearly did something!” “okay kids. let’s all settle down..”

you chuckle, lips curling in a way that makes megumi facepalm. how do you just so happen to have another +4? oh and nobara put down a reverse. “i quit..” he mutters angrily, how does he have no reds? this game must be rigged..

“now now! you have to hear the next story before my wife beats you! oh, along with that brat of course..” satoru makes a ‘pssh’ sound, turning away to dodge the look nobara sent him. “how about i tell this one..?.” you interrupted, drawing a card once you realized you were out of reds. “please do. maybe hearing the downfall of that sucker will lighten my mood..” megumi murmurs, making nobara snicker and satoru groan, scoffing and looking over to you for help.

“well, on this day, it was maybe a few weeks after the first ‘kiss’. we were having a small argument and..”

and the reason why you were giving satoru the silent treatment was because of a joke he made about you being weak, considering the scar you gained from a mission. stupid boys and their stupid jokes.

which led to you avoiding him.

“did satoru mess up already..” suguru muttered, his eyes flickering between you, who sat between him and shoko, and satoru who sat at the other end beside shoko. his body was slumped on the table, face smushed in as his eyes stayed on you. how downbad can a guy get?

“i guess so.. y/n?” shoko looked at you expectantly, gesturing for you to look at the pouty boy. but you only huffed at the sight, “he looks like a dog. like a skinwalker.” oh he definitely did something wrong. you never took the initiative to insult someone, even when you’re mad.

and satoru was ashamed, his love, his sweetness, his darling, his soulmate.. called him a skinwalker. he’d never recover from this.. and hasn’t.

��she didn’t lie..” suguru snickered, making satoru give a whine, “hey!” but you pay no attention to him despite suguru and shoko’s comments. you stay focused on the music playing in your earbuds before yaga walks in and eventually you become immersed in the teachings that you didn’t notice the glances satoru gave you.

well more like, he never looked away?

it was so annoying that when lunch came, shoko had suggested that you wait in the classroom with satoru while she and suguru went to get some snacks. soon after, yaga walked out too, muttering something about needing a break from teenagers

you couldn’t take it. no one was here, and it was silent. if satoru was really sorry, why not say it now. “i’m just gon—“ the second you stand up, satoru’s beside you with a quickness, pinning your hands above you and against the window. you looked so pretty, eyes looking up at him in shock. and those glossy lips, he just wants to kiss you.

and sure, the solemn look on his face, and the tilt of his glasses showing the deep emotion with his eyes saddened you. for a split second.

but as a sorcerer, it’s normal to uh.. enact self defense.

satoru found himself on the floor, an aching kicked jaw and his hands twisted behind himself painfully. “oh my god— i’m sorry toru.. okay not really, but my bad.” you stammer, letting go of his wrists and helping him lay on his back. you turn him around to see a jacked up smile on his face. so silly.

“you finally talked to me..”

“what a loser..” “i know right, simp..” and yuji, who walked in during the story, only makes it worse, “if maki heard this, she’d have your head on a swivel sensei..” the three teens only keep going, all crowded together as they look at the ‘sad old man’.

you chuckle, “uno. and don’t be too hard on him. surely there’s a better story to tell, considering it took a year.” you give satoru a pointed look, clapping your hands in excitement while nobara and megumi groan. maybe megumi shouldn’t have reversed it with the hopes of you drawing..

you won!

“well since our dear yuji is back, i’ll go get the monopoly board.” satoru stretches, giving you a kiss on your forehead before going on a hunt for said board. “bleh, i can’t believe you settled down for someone like him.. no offense. but seriously, what convinced you that he was someone you wanted to stay with? for life y’know..” nobara’s small rant makes you pause, a tiny smile forming as you think about the question.

“well.. when you’ve known someone long enough, you become used to them, especially in dating. but satoru always makes me excited for a new day, it’s never the same and i enjoy being with him. even when we did have bad days, we still do. but i still wake up everyday thinking, ‘i want to spend the rest of my life with this man’, sure, there’s always better, but better won’t be my satoru.” you give a small chuckle at the looks of their confused faces, ready to change the topic.

but yuji’s giving a big grin, sliding in satoru’s seat and clapping his hands. “that’s so adorable mrs. gojo! i hope to find love like that one day!” and nobara agrees, putting a hand up to her chest, “that was so heartwarming! i feel lightheaded just from hearing someone explain their feelings like that!” she sighs, eyes closed with a dreamy smile. and megumi gives you a nod, “i’m sure that idiot would say the same.. you’re the only person i can ever see putting up with him..” and before you can give the teens a sweet response, satoru’s walking in with a box and another chair.

“you guys aren’t talking ab— get out of my seat itadori! that’s reserved for me!” he grumbles, quickly placing the box down before stomping over to the pink haired boy as you collect the cards. “oh c'mon sensei! how obsessed can you be?” yuji yelps as satoru picks up the chair he sat in, placing him to the side and scooting the chair he brought closer to you. “until the day i die.” satoru triumphs, a ditzy smirk playing on his face as he sets aside the deck of uno cards for you.

“i’ll tell another story. like the time we went to the carnival.. wait, did you even try to kiss me that time..?” and he chuckles nervously from your words, “maybe i should do the talking honey..” he falters as nobara face palms, “that’s the most common trope that always works! how do you even fail.. i could see if she rejected you but seriously sensei..” and megumi makes a noise of agreement, opening up the monopoly board and letting everyone choose their respective characters.

“maybe we should let him talk first before we judge..” yuji gets a pat on the back from satoru, happy with his ‘support’.

“on our six month anniversary..”

“wait— you didn’t make a move for five months!” nobara buts in, making you laugh. “don’t worry, i actually banned him from touching me after he poured honey in my hair.” and they all gasp, eyes darting to each other and then to the man in question.

“before you grab that hammer— let me at least explain this story.. during the fall, at the beginning of our third year in highschool, we..”

you two went to the carnival downtown that opens every fall. at first, satoru thought it was just a place for those cringey couples to go make out on the ferris wheel, but after shoko gave him the idea that you two could have your date there. he gained a plan.

it was two months since you allowed him to show you physical affection, and he’d be damned if he messed this up. you two walked around, going to all of the stands and games. along with a few rides that satoru almost threw up from, afterwards.

but there was one last thing.

“we’re about to get on..” you murmured, eyes stuck on the big ferris wheel. it was very high up in the sky, and sure you’ve been higher, but maybe the simple fact that you were doing normal couple things left you a bit amazed. but your boyfriend carrying you up in the sky in the late hours of night was a bit cooler. satoru chuckles, fixing his jacket on you and trying to make sure the cold air wouldn’t reach you. considering he didn’t want to use his ability in such an open and crowded place.

“make sure you pay attention, kay? someone people said it’s beautiful up there.” he smiled, letting you enter the cart first before following in. as the worker closed the door, he noticed the dazed look of love swirling in the boy's eyes.

ah, young love.

he gave satoru a small wink before starting the ride, you guys wait a few minutes, moving slowly up as other cars slowly get loaded. eventually, you guys are high up, not at the top, but enough to see the lights of cities and other attractions during the evening sky. “pretty..” you murmur, stuck on the beautiful sight of the skyscrapers.

and in perfect cliche fashion..

satoru’s eyes stay still on you, enamored by the expression of amazement on your face. “yeah..” he responds quietly, eyes stuck on the way the lights and stars seem to dance around your eyes. nothing could ever compare to this.

suddenly, the worker makes an announcement about the wheel going in one full rotation. and satoru can see the way your lips twitch to form into a bigger smile, big eyes turning to him. “i can’t wait to get to the top.” you grin, moving closer to the back and holding onto the open window. and maybe your excitement radiated to him because his heart was getting faster, hands shaky as he slid to the end of the seat, sitting in front of you.

satoru’s mind was racing, stuck on how he would execute such an important moment with you, but he was forced to just wing it when you tugged on his sleeve, pulling him closer and gesturing to the view before you. “satoru!” you giggle, pulling him closer to the window. the sky was purple, blending well with the blinking and glowing lights of colors. it was the perfect moment.

his hand goes for your chin, tilting your head towards him. He mutters your name, diverting your attention. and the absolute look of adoration made your heart flutter. you could see a light blush coating his face, his glasses tilted and and his fingers moving hesitantly. such a dork. a pretty one at that.

“i’ve been wanting to try this for a while now y’know..” he was nervous as hell, eyes looking everywhere but yours. but you bring his hand down from your chin, holding it close to you. “that is?” and satoru might’ve been ascending to heaven just from the sweet tone of your voice. it was almost as if you knew what he wanted. “well i wanted to ask if we could—“

“we’re sorry to announce that the power of this ride has gone out. please stay calm everyone while we fix this.”

and the absolute terror filling your eyes made satoru curse the worker in his head. pulling you to his side and holding you close. no one would’ve noticed if he teleported away right?

fuck carnivals

“and she’s still scared of going on ferris wheels to this day..” satoru sighs, giving a smile when you glare at him, having half the mind to take away the fake five-hundred dollar bill you just gave him. maybe you will later, it’s a good thing you chose to just be the banker.

“i guess we won’t be going to the fair this fall..” yuji sighs, giving a small pout as nobara rolls the dice. “man.. honestly, i blame it on the worker.” “same.” megumi chimes in, watching as she lands on his property. “that’ll be one-hundred and fifty.” he practically shoves the card in her grumbling face, making her swat it away. “i’m going broke! i’m just a girl!” she cries, making you cover your laugh, she only had two-hundred dollars left.

she hands the dice to megumi as satoru rubs his chin. “there was a time where we played in the snow, i think that was attempt number four..” his words make the teens cringe, “sensei.. that’s a long time.” yuji murmurs, making nobara nod along. “i said that! and to think you thought it took a month..” you give a light chuckle as he looks at you with squinted eyes, pouting.

“i actually think ms. ieiri told me about that story..” megumi ponders, moving his little figure across the board before giving satoru the dice. “oh really? what did she say?” he perks up, and suddenly you remember an embarrassing memory. surely it wasn’t that time..?

“apparently there was layers of snow, but you all still had to go to school..”

“yea, i remember me and her..”

walked through that snow. yea, you read that right. satoru never had thoughts on snow, only that it was a reminder of his childhood. but when you walked out your dorm room suited up in warm clothing, with large boots and a cute little beanie covering your head, he couldn’t help but want to indulge in your little fun.

“did you really turn infinity off?” you smile, he was behind you, but you could hear the soft crunches of snow as he took big steps through it. “yea, for some reason you like this.” satoru shrugged, leaping a bit to walk beside you. compared to you, he was only in a light jacket, considering he didn’t wear anything to prepare for the cold. but you dressed him up in it so he couldn’t say no.

“it’s fun. as sorcerers, we don’t really get to experience like.. regular things. if that makes sense. i know you probably understand it like wayy more than i do, being one of the strongest and all.. but the little things count to me.” your words made satoru actually think, for once.

and you were right, he does understand, and just as the snow reminds him of his childhood, it reminded him of the small slices of life he’d experience during the winter. like his mother telling the maids to change his orange juice for a hot cocoa. it was most likely because of health concerns, but he always felt a little bit more loved at the smell of it.

satoru inched closer, grasping your double gloved hand. “you should make a list.. like a bucket list.” he suggested and it made you turn to him with a smile, beginning your small rant of things you’d like to do. things he’d never forget. you two approach the doors of the school, pushing through the snow that seemed to have piled higher.

“while it's snowy, we should go sn—“ a loud ‘plap!’ sound rings in his ears, making him turn to see your face planted in the snow. “pfff..” satoru snorted. turning his head before crouching down and picking up your head. “you good?” he grinned, seeing your messed up face covered in bits of snow and grass, “no..” you coughed as he wiped off your face, your blinking and dazed eyes staring back at him.

you’re so pretty, he thought. it’s actually criminal. the way you were so out of it, shaken up from the fall and just looking up at him, sometimes glancing away, as he took his time fixing you up. his hands found your cheeks, cold to his touch. maybe his hands were too from the way you almost recoiled from the contact.

“you're staring more than usual..” you murmured, looking down and listening to his breathless laugh. “yea? i like looking at art.” and you rolled your eyes, looking back at him and lightly hitting his chest. “you think you’re sooo smooth huh?” and he wraps an arm around your neck pulling you beside him with a cheeky grin. maybe he could’ve shown you just how smooth he is.

satoru looks at your lips for a brief second before meeting your eyes again. “maybe i do..” he speaks with a whisper, heart dropping as your lips part with a chuckle, unknowingly moving closer to him.

‘pah!’

a hard snowball had hit satoru’s face, his body plopping on the ground as you looked off into the distance with a laugh. “that wasn’t very nice shoko!” you giggled, waving at the brown haired girl who gave a grin, another snowball ready to be thrown in hand. “i’m still here y’know..” satoru huffs, feeling the sting of the ball on his cheek.

you helped him up with a smile. “she got you good.”

“good in-fucking-deed..”

“ouch..” yuji mutters as satoru picks his chance card, “honestly.. that’s kinda sad.” nobara shrugs, “yea, im starting to think their wedding day was their first kiss.” megumi’s statement makes you laugh, watching as satoru eagerly advances to “go”, giving you an expectant look for his two-hundred dollars.

“we did eventually share that moment. but you kiddos are too young to hear that.” satoru claims, waving his now, two-thousand and nine-hundred dollars in front of them. “oh please!” nobara and yuji jinx, and you can almost hear their signature, ‘you owe me a soda!’ , ‘no i don’t!’ , banter in the distance but they must be too distracted to think about it.

“well, i'll take the pleasure of telling the story of how we got interrupted, before our first kiss. then we can make some cupcakes while your sensei makes dinner.” you sigh, praying to yourself that you have the ingredients and more just from the looks of excitement forming on their faces. is that drool coming out of yuji’s mouth?

“huh, so it only took five times? it took him seven years to marry you..” megumi turns away as satoru gives him a look. yuji rolls the dice while nobara gives you a small smile, “your words from earlier make more sense mrs. gojo.. considering you stayed without a ring for that long.” and satoru glares at nobara, “actually! she was my fiancé for a year!” “so someone as spontaneous and dumb as you took that long to prepare a wedding?!” “yea that’s right!”

you could never get bored of them.. you watch as yuji gives a small glance to the older man, before looking at you. he landed on satoru’s property, and the said man didn’t even notice. he was way too busy arguing with nobara.

but, house rules are..

you put a finger to your lips, smiling as he hands nobara the dice. man, and satoru was waiting for someone to land on his upgraded property. yuji dodged a bullet with that one. “before you cut each other's head off. i’m very happy nobara. so don’t worry, i’ll let you know when he needs a nail to the head.” “honey!” “of course mrs. gojo!” nobara is all smiles, clapping her hands before rolling the dice. while satoru looks at you. he notices a cat token around one of his properties, “wait—“

“back to the story, i remember it was near spring. still a—“ “my love i think—“

“satoru.”

“sorry, keep going my love.”

“as i saying, it was still a bit cold..”

and satoru was able to convince you to not wear those excessive coats, instead just wearing one of his hoodies that he was sure you’d take off once it would get hotter later in the day. on that day, you two were walking around a park filled with little people, admiring the beautiful trees and flowers that leave signs of early spring.

“we should have a picnic here.” you murmured, lost in thought as you gazed at the fallen petals, filled with variations of yellow, orange, and pink. almost like a sunset. but satoru always found this to be your best angle. when you’re not paying attention, and you're appreciating the beauty of something. because that always gave him the chance to appreciate your beauty.

“yea? i guess that’d be pretty..” satoru had trailed off, his arm around your neck pulling you close with his eyes unfocused and just staring at the way you stopped to look up at him in confusion. “pretty?” “pretty.” and you giggle, bringing a hand up to the one on your side, “you okay toru?” and he hummed, intertwining your fingers.

“let’s go over there, that’s the biggest tree.” he looked over to where you pointed at. just further down the path was a large yellow tree, below it were leaves and petals of the flowers surrounding the area. a nice sight. just not on your level of absolute gorgeousness. “lead the way.” he let you walk in front of him, not missing the way one of your hands still found him along.

his heart was doing somersaults, dancing around his chest in happiness as you two silently approached the scenery. you pulled him down before his head could hit one of the branches, giggling when he looked up at it with an annoyed expression, lips tucked out in his signature pout. you two sat by each other under the tree, having a light conversation about what you two would bring for a picnic.

but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes always flickered away from yours, slight below to your lips. then he’d look away hesitantly. and when you thought about it, you realized you’ve seen him like that multiple times. “toru.” you say a bit louder, catching his attention. you hoped your assumption was right, or else your next words would’ve been embarrassing.

“why don’t you just ask me?” you smiled, watching how the gears turned in his head. his head turning away and his hands covering his face. “you know..?” satoru whispered, trying to cover the blush that had begun to bloom. but he couldn’t escape you. not with those tinted ears of his. “mhm.. but you’re not gonna get a kiss if you don’t ask.” you huffed, giving him a teasing look as he faced you again.

“okay.. can i pleaseeee, pretty pretty pretty pleaseeee kiss youuuuu?” satoru whined, over exaggerating his words as he leaned closer to you. the tuffs of his hair brushed your head as you chuckled. “yes, you dork.” and he grins, hands finding your chin just like how it is in those rom-coms he watched. he hesitated, but your warm smile felt like a welcoming for him to take those lips of yours. despite already asking.

he tilts his head, muttering a reassuring ‘okay’ to himself before you both leaned in. but rather than feeling each others lips. you both blink awkwardly at the feeling of a rough texture blocking your lips.

a leaf.

in sync, you both pulled away, gagging at the taste on your lips. but undeniably, your hearts raced, embracing the fact that you two almost kissed. and just as satoru was thinking that the odd leaf had killed the mood, you tapped his shoulder. fiddling with his clothing, shy.

“how about we try that again?”

1K notes · View notes

bg-brainrot · 29 days

Text

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile.

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence. When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion comfort #spawn astarion

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levitiquee · 5 months

Text

“Levi!”

You barge through the door, all dramatic, gasping and panting, purposely exaggerating to get his attention. But not to your surprise, he didn’t even bother looking up.

“I suppose no one ever taught you, but there’s a concept called knocking.” He said, his eyes fully focused on the papers. His hand moving across it as he wrote. “It’s quite easy really, you raise your hand and—”

“Levi!” You cut him off, slamming the door behind you loudly. “Levi, my beloved, my savior in dark times, I am in need of your help.”

“Slamming the door isn’t very polite either. Your manners get worse everyday.”

You waved him off, shushing him. You made way across the room, where a couch sat not far from the desk he was sitting on, and flopped down face first. “Levi.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Ah yes, making yourself home I see.” He sighs.

“Levi, I need your help. Real bad.”

“No.”

“What–” You look up, raising your face from the cushions, offended. “You didn’t even–”

“No.” He repeated, eyes not leaving his work for even a second. “Please, get off my couch. Cleaning it is tiresome.”

“Levi.” You whined, impatient at his aloofness. “Levi, he’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll buy you a good coffin.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed. “I’m dead. Like literally. Absolutely. This is where it all ends.”

“I’d rather you not die on my couch.”

“Fuck your couch.” You flipped yourself, so you splayed on your back now. You tilted your head, staring at him. “Help me out. Please?”

Levi finally turns to look at you, unable to ignore you any longer. He frowned. “What?” He asked warily. “What did you do this time?”

“Promise me you’ll help me first.” You said.

“No.” He immediately rejects you. “What did you do? Did you get into a fight with an MP again?”

You shook your head.

“Blew up something in Hange’s lab?” He guessed.

“No. But I’d really rather it was Hange mad at me though.”

He looked at you confused, “Who did you piss off then? “

You grimaced. He was quick to conclude.

“Ah.” He realizes. “Erwin.”

A nod from you answers him.

“What did you do?”

“Ask me what I didn’t do.”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Work.” You sat up. “In my defense, it was a shit load of work. And I hate paperwork. And I kept procrastinating. And now it’s due by tomorrow and I didn’t remember until two minutes ago when Erwin shot a glare at me. And now I—”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why not?” You demanded.

“It’s your fault. Don’t drag me into this shit.” He grumbles, scowling. “And you promised last time, you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’m not doing your work for you. I have enough on my plate.”

“Okay first of all, I’m not lazy. I was busy–”

“Ogling Garrison captains.”

“They’re pretty. And no, not the point, shut up.” You protested. “I was busy. And I didn’t come here so you could do it for me. I came here so you could go and talk to Erwin.”

Levi frowned, “Talk to him about what?”

“Tell him to give me one more day. Swear I’d work my ass off.”

“You said that last time too.” He pointed it out. “How angry is Erwin?”

You made a face. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“He keeps glaring at me everytime I meet him. It’s the ‘if you don’t get it done this time, you’re gonna get in so much shit’ glare. It’s creeping me out.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head. “Only you." He said. "Only you can possibly manage piss fucking Erwin off. The guy's a fucking monk, nothing affects him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time asking for an extension.”

“Err…” You ducked your face. “It was kinda supposed to be done 2 weeks ago.”

“2 weeks?” Levo looked at you incredulously. “No wonder he’s pissed. And you’re asking for more time?”

“One more day. Just one more day. Please Levi, he’ll listen to you.”

Levi stares at your pleading expression for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, considering. Thinking. Then he seemed to have made up his mind.

“No.”

“Wha—” You jerk upright. You really thought you’d convinced him.

“No. I’m not getting you out of the grave this time. Specially since you dug it yourself.” He returns his attention back to his work. “Good luck to you, but leave now. And learn a damn lesson.”

You stared at him, gaping. “Wow," You blinked you’re an asshole.”

“Congratulations for realizing that.”

You exhaled. Easy words won’t work, you knew. So, here comes plan A. Acting.

You pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said what I said.”

You fluttered your lashes, all wide shiny eyes, about to cry.

“Get out before I start throwing shit at you.”

“Levi.” Plan B. Bribing.

“No.”

“Leeviii.”

“No.”

“Levi, aren’t you the sweetest, most dearest, my absolute favorite and delightful and super awesome with extra sugar on top bestiest best friend? Don’t be like that, c’mon.”

“Still no. And we’re not friends.”

“‘I’ll make you pie?” You offered.

“You can’t cook to save your life. No.”

"I'll give you hugs."

"I will slap you."

“Levi.” Plan C. Threatening.

He glares back at you.

"You do realize you could've used this time getting the report started instead of trying to convince me and actually might've manage to get it done?”

“I’ll read poetry to you.” You threatened.

Levi looks up, finally there’s a hint of alarm on his face. “No, you won’t.”

“I’ll make sure all your food touch.”

“Get out.”

“I’ll disorganize your bookshelf and fill it with those titan x scout love novels.”

He raised his middle finger at you.

“I will start telling you about all my exes.”

He cringed visibly.

Finally, you gave up. Dragging yourself off the couch, you slowly, pathetically, miserably made your way to the door. You knew that the odds were very low that Levi would actually help you this time, because he was right. You needed to learn a lesson. And it was your fault.

“Oi.”

Your hand was on the doorknob. “What?” You turned to look at him grumpily.

Levi was pinching the bridge of his nose, knitting his eyebrows together, irritated and annoyed. Like he was about to do something he regretted.

He let out a long exhale.

“Bring it here. I’ll help you.”

“What?” You asked, disbelief dripping from your tone. Were you dreaming?

“I’ll help you out. Just this time.” He grunts. “Don’t expect it again. And I’ll only guide you, you’re doing the most of it.”

Music to your ears.

“Really?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He huffed.

You broke into a wide grin, beaming up at him. “No wonder I love you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“You’re the best,”

“Shut up.”

“The best. The most darling, the loveliest, the coolest, the–”

“10 seconds. I’m giving you 10 seconds.”

“Oh–” Your eyes widened. You learnt the hard way Levi usually means his time limits. “Okay, okay, wait here, wait. I’ll be right back. Just–”

And you were out the door,

“Fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself, as you yet again, slammed the door.

He wish he knew why he kept doing this to himself.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

Text

Don't cha wanna dance?

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: T

CW: Vague boner references again

Tags: No UD AU; dancer Steve Harrington; good neighbor Eddie Munson; Flirting; Sexual tension

Notes: Continued from day 22. This is for @sourw0lfs and @wormdebut specifically, who very gently bullied talked me into writing more dancer!Steve. 🩰

Eddie has never understood new year's resolutions. He believes that, if he wanted to change something about himself, he could do it any time. Like quit smoking. Or stop biting his nails. Or be less of a goddamn push-over.

Okay, so maybe the latter is something he should really, really work on, ‘cause it's gotten him into a whole shitload of unfortunate situations lately. As if chauffeuring Max to her stupid ballet classes wasn't enough. Now he's also helping out at the dancing school’s annual Christmas recital, because he's just such a nice guy, apparently.

While he tries to arrange the lopsided folding chairs into something resembling a neat line, he struggles to remember when he agreed to this shit. For the life of him, he can't recall. His brain was probably flat-lining when Max asked him, as it tends to do around a certain very hot dance teacher and his muscles and his tights and-

“Looking good!”

He whips his head up. Steve is standing a few paces away. The tights are a pale pink today. Jesus Christ.

“You too,” Eddie blurts. Steve's eyebrow arches and shit, he wasn't talking about Eddie, was he? “I mean, thanks, I … ow, son of a-”

“Oh, shit!” Steve is next to him in an instant, freeing his hand from the maws of the folding chair. Eddie swears, sucks his throbbing thumb into his mouth. “Sorry, these things are ancient. You need an ice pack? I've got some-”

“‘m good,” Eddie says. Tries to go for suave. Fails because he's still got his own thumb up his mouth like a fucking two-year-old. “Had worse.”

Steve’s face is a mask of doubt, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Anyhow,” he smiles instead, putting the offending chair in line with the rest. “I just wanted to say thanks again. You're probably busy enough around the holidays, but Max insisted you'd be happy to help.”

“I'm not,” Eddie says. Pauses. Grabs a strand of hair to hide behind. “Busy, I mean. I am happy to help, so … don't sweat it, or whatever.”

A heartbeat passes in awkward silence.

“So, what's with the, um …” Eddie says. Watches how Steve tilts his head at him, hair swooshing with the motion. Briefly considers stuffing his thumb back in his mouth to shut himself up. “... with the y’know. The getup.”

Something flashes across Steve’s face, something dangerously akin to hurt.

“What?” he asks, doing a hesitant three-sixty. “Something wrong with it?”

Screw the thumb, Eddie thinks. He needs to find a way to fit his entire hand in there. And Steve, for what it’s worth, needs to stop twirling, or they're about to have a massive fucking problem.

“It’s fine!” he says. Maybe a bit too fast, because he thinks Steve’s mouth curls into a smug smile. “I just mean, um … you’re not … dancing today, are you?”

Is he? Oh dear God, please no. The place is gonna be swarming with proud parents and relatives, Eddie is not ready for the inevitable consequences of Steve in his pink tights on that stage. Not in the skinny jeans he had to wear today, stupid fucking moron that he is.

“Huh? No, tonight is all about the girls,” Steve says. Eddie is so busy sighing in relief and nodding that he doesn’t catch the next words.

“Sorry, what?”

“That other recital I was talking about earlier? You coming to that, too?” Steve repeats, and fuck, what other recital? Eddie really needs to work on his listening skills. If he actually listened instead of staring at the guy like a catatonic caveman every so often, he might be able to maintain a halfway intelligent conversation.

He’d also probably know why Steve is suddenly coming closer. Eddie tries to take a frantic step backwards and almost crashes into the folding chairs.

“Oh, erm …,” he stammers. “When was it again?”

Stever reaches up to run a hand through his hair, boyish and bashful.

“Um, New Year's Eve,” he says apologetically. “I totally understand if you already have plans, it's just… There's a little get-together after the show, too, with drinks and snacks, and I thought-”

“Sure, I'll be there,” Eddie says.

See, what did he say? Total push-over.

The thing is, with the way Steve’s eyes light up, he can't really find it in himself to regret it.

“Ew, what happened to your finger?” Max looks about as disgusted as she sounds. Which is probably fair, because Eddie’s thumb has turned a vibrant purple.

“These little babies did,” Eddie gestures offhandedly at the chairs they're stacking against the wall. “So be careful.”

“Were you staring at Steve again?”

“Fuck off, I wasn't.”

She pushes the hair that has come loose from its bun out of her eyes so she can give him a deadpan stare. Eddie glowers right back.

“And even if I was, what's it to you? You can be glad I keep showing up to these gigs. Today, on New Year's Eve, it's really getting-”

“What are you on about?” Her entire face scrunches up in confusion. “There's no recital on-”

“Oh no?” Eddie pulls the flier Steve gave him from his pocket and pushes it into her chest. “Then what's this?”

“That's not our school, dumbass. Check the address.”

She studies it for a second.

“Huh? What d'you…?” Eddie is already squinting at the letters again. Sure enough, the address doesn't match the one he's been driving Max to. Instead, it's somewhere downtown. “What?”

“That's the studio Steve goes to,” Max has already returned to stacking chairs. “Super fancy place. He used to be a pro, y’know? Before he tore that muscle?”

When Eddie doesn’t reply, she tugs the flier from his limp fingers, folds it neatly and puts it into his jacket pocket.

“Happy new year, doofus. Better wear bulky pants.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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wandaromanova · 1 year

Text

obvious

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Wednesday-level threats, that’s about it

A/N: hello! this is bad but it was fun to write. as always, not proofread cause i’m lazy. happy reading <3

anon requested: Reader and Wednesday are dating and reader is super affectionate; always kissing Wednesday’s cheeks, holding her hands, and just generally being physical like that. Reader doesn’t really think much about it until Enid mentions one day how surprised she is Wednesday let’s reader perform so much pda. Which makes reader suddenly stop. (Wednesday notices this ofc and is like “wtf???? Why did you stop?”)

Summary: Things aren’t as obvious as they seem, for both you and your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Word Count: 2.1K words | wednesday masterlist

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

The entire student body was shocked when word of your relationship with Wednesday Addams spread across Nevermore.

You were outgoing and friendly while the Addams was intimidating and unapproachable. The two of you were an unlikely duo, the epitome of opposites attract.

It was remarkable to those around you, how the goth girl who hated being touched would let you hug her and live to see the next day.

The sight of Wednesday visibly relaxing in your hold was a stark contrast to the tenseness that permeated throughout her body whenever someone brushed their shoulder against hers in passing.

Although the affectionate gestures were offputting to others, it was second nature for you.

Not once had you considered the fact that Wednesday loved to keep people at arms-length and then some.

In your mind, she was just your other half, and with touch being your love language, it only made sense.

That was until Enid brought it to your attention.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was an average day in the quad, your boisterous classmates scattered throughout the open area when you walked up to the table that you always sat at.

Wednesday’s back was toward you, so you took the opportunity to sneak up on her.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you kissed her cheek quickly before settling in the seat beside her, as your backpack hit the floor.

The Addams turned her head toward you, staring at you impassively. You failed to notice the tiniest hint of a blush that graced her cheeks. Wednesday was grateful for your obliviousness.

“Do you have a death wish?” She questioned monotonously as you gave her a wide smile.

“Yeah, only by your hands though,” you responded easily, sending her a wink before turning your attention to the bubbly blonde sitting across from you.

“Hey Y/N, how’s your day been so far?” Enid smiled at you widely as she awaited your response, taking a bite of her sandwich which she chewed lazily.

“It’s been alright, but it's even better now that I’m here with my favorite girl… and Wednesday,” you laughed with Enid at your own joke before cringing as the girl beside you jabbed her elbow into your side.

The werewolf found the action even more amusing, her giggles increasing tenfold.

Your eyes met Wednesday’s as she glared at you, silently warning you to retract your statement.

“Aw Wens, you know I’m kidding. You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you interlocked your fingers with hers under the table, bringing your conjoined hands up to your lips, placing gentle kisses on each of her pale knuckles.

Her eyes raked over your features in thought, before abruptly standing up.

“Where are you going? Did I upset you?” You worriedly looked up at her as she let go of your hand, scared that you offended her.

“It’s foolish of you to think inane words would disrupt my psyche. I have a Hummer meeting to attend,” Wednesday said, shrugging her backpack on.

“Come to my dorm tonight,” the raven-haired girl stared down at you, adjusting her blazer that crinkled slightly from her movements.

“Okay, but why?” You asked curiously, head tilting to the side. The action made Wednesday’s heart flutter, but she would never say that out loud.

“Enid needs help with her psychology homework,” she nonchalantly replied, so caught up in observing you that she forgot the werewolf was even present.

Wednesday was quickly reminded when you turned your attention to the blonde.

“You do? I thought you said the class was easy,” your eyebrows furrowed together, further evidence of your cluelessness.

You missed the threatening glare your partner sent Enid’s way.

“Uh… yeah I lied. I’m actually really struggling and need your help, pretty please,” Enid’s eyes fluttered back and forth between you and Wednesday, a nervous smile on her lips.

Luckily, you didn’t question it and agreed to assist her.

And with that, Wednesday left without another word, your eyes glued to her retreating form with a small smile on your face.

God, you loved her.

“You two are so cute it’s actually disgusting,” Enid dramatically grimaced at the lovestruck look on your face. You smirked at her, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Please, like you and Ajax don’t act all lovey-dovey when you’re together,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the wolf, taking the tray of food Wednesday had left on the table and eating it yourself.

“Yeah, but with Ajax and I, it’s not unusual for us to show some PDA. You and my roomie on the other hand, it’s shocking but in a good way,” she clarified before taking another bite of her sandwich as you processed what she said.

“Why is our PDA shocking?” Confusion was plastered across your features, Enid staring at you like you’d asked the stupidest question to ever be spoken.

“Wednesday hates being touched. It took me forever to get a hug from her, and I live with her! It’s a miracle she lets you touch her at all, let alone in public.”

Silence took over as you sat in thought, mindlessly picking at the food you no longer had an interest in eating. Enid was right.

Wednesday always made it clear that affection was something she despised. Perhaps you got excited by the euphoria of being with the girl you love, letting it cloud your judgment.

Surely your girlfriend would have mentioned if your advances made her uncomfortable, right?

Your mind was swimming as the bell rang, indicating the end of the lunch period.

In a trance, you stood up, said goodbye to Enid, and walked to class. Before you even made it through the door to botany, you’d come to your conclusion.

You’ll give Wednesday the space she didn’t ask for.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

Wednesday was completely and utterly flabbergasted. For the past week, you’ve been different. Your personality around her was intact, but there was something severely lacking; physical contact.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday was at a loss.

The goth girl recalled every interaction she had with you prior to the sudden change, but her efforts to rationalize your behavior were fruitless.

Wednesday detested how the circumstance got under her skin like parasites.

Her thoughts were plagued with you, even more so than usual. Writing became an insurmountable feat that she failed to overcome.

She felt pathetic, not finishing the chapter of her novel that she was so close to completing.

The raven-haired girl cursed her father in these fleeting moments. She simply must have inherited this pitiful need for her lover from the man. It was his fault that now, she resembled a lovesick buffoon.

It was agonizing to be so close to you, but feel so far.

Wednesday normally found your obliviousness endearing, but now she wants to commit every single degree of murder because of it.

Each lunch period, she would sit beside you, hoping for some semblance of comfort she so desperately craved, but to no avail. Even when she put her pride aside, she was literally left empty-handed.

How did you not notice her hand resting on her thigh, wide open for the taking? How did you not notice the astronomical distance between your bodies?

How could you ignore her ice-cold cheeks, desperate for the warmth of your lips to paint them with color?

The old Wednesday would ridicule this newfound version of herself. However, you changed her.

Whether it was for better or for worse, well that was a debate the goth girl had during times like this.

She shamefully reduced herself to obvious pining for the sake of having you close.

So… why weren’t you taking any of her hints?

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was obvious Wednesday didn’t want you near her.

Ever since you decided to give your girlfriend space, all she has done is look at you. She made no moves to initiate contact, just staring at you with emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

Admittedly, your mission was not an easy one. It took every fiber of your being to keep from holding your girlfriend’s hand or brushing away strands of hair that managed to escape her tight braids.

You felt as though you were punishing yourself, positive that you were the only one suffering.

However, your outlook changed the day Wednesday came knocking at your door.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

You were sat at your desk, back hunched over as you scribbled some notes down. You’d been in your dorm all day, declining the offers of your friends to head into Jericho.

It was a Saturday and while everyone was hoping the day would never end, you wanted it to end faster.

Your study session came to a halt when three resounding knocks came from your door.

You smiled to yourself, knowing who was on the other side waiting for you. You stood up from your chair, groaning as you stretched your arms out.

When you swung the door open, you were met with Wednesday glaring daggers at you.

The Addams pushed her way into your room, not giving you the chance to greet her.

Bewildered, you shut the door and turned to face your storm-cloud of a girlfriend.

She was standing in the middle of your room, dawning her checkered sweater that was slightly oversized and some black sweatpants.

She was so adorable even though she looked like she was gonna kill you right now.

“Well, hello to you too Wens,” you said sarcastically, accompanied by a playful roll of your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” Wednesday probed, blunt and to the point as always.

If looks could kill, you would be decomposed.

“The real question is; what isn’t wrong with me? Yanno what I mean?” you rubbed the back of your neck, giggling out of fear for your well-being.

“Did I do something to offend you?” The raven-haired girl’s tone was firm, a trace of concern mixed in.

“Of course, not. You did nothing wrong. Why would you think that?” You took a few steps closer to the girl but made sure to leave room between the two of you.

Wednesday’s eyes focused on everything but you as she let out a deep sigh. Despite being a writer, she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

Oh, the irony.

“You have not been close to me all week. I demand to know why,” the Addams tried to keep her composure, but the little shake in her voice was a dead giveaway to her nervousness.

You were taken aback by her words, shock evident on your face before it was quickly replaced by a look of utter confusion.

Honestly, when were you not confused?

“I know you don’t like to be touched, so I thought space was what you wanted,” you said, sincerity dripping from your tone like honey.

Wednesday blankly stared as you shuffled in place, an indication of your anxiousness.

“You’re correct. I hate being touched by other people, but you’re not other people, mon cher,” her gaze softened, taking two steps closer to you.

Her hand cupped your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut, the coolness of her skin sending electricity throughout your body.

”You’re the exception,” Wednesday whispered quietly, like she didn’t want anyone but you to hear. She was so close you could feel her breath on your lips.

There was no time for you to respond before the girl pressed her lips to your own.

You reveled in the feeling of her soft lips, your breath taken away at the tenderness of it all. Your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her as close as you possibly could.

When air became an issue, you reluctantly pulled away.

Your forehead connected to hers, basking in the silence and Wednesday’s presence. A beat passed before you opened your eyes, reluctantly pulling back to stare at the girl.

“I’m sorry, Wens. I won’t distance myself ever again,” you mumbled, head still in the clouds from the most passionate kiss you and the Addams ever shared.

“It was idiotic of you to do so in the first place,” she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah… well, Enid reminded me you aren’t the affectionate type. So, I-,” your sentence was cut short as your girlfriend interrupted you.

“She will die a slow and painful death,” Wednesday spoke apathetically, pecking your cheek before moving out of your grasp, much to your dismay.

“Where are you going?” You whined, already missing your girlfriend’s touch.

“To kill Enid,” she responded casually, twisting the doorknob and walking out.

You laughed to yourself, knowing her threat was an empty one.

The werewolf was one of the few people your girlfriend tolerated. Wednesday would never hurt Enid…right?

Your eyes widened, bolting out of your dorm to save your best friend from your murderous other half.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams x reader fluff

2K notes · View notes

straykeedz · 7 months

Note

heyy bby, im dreaming with jisung weed dealer for so long i would love that if you could do it !! kisses luv 💋💋

high on you ; hjs

author’s note: thank you so much for requesting something to me! i’m sorry if anything that’s written here is inaccurate lol, i now nothing about weed and stuff like that 🙏 hope this lives up to your expectations, x 🫧

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader;

rating: m, s;

wc: 2,9k;

tw: jisung’s your weed dealer; smoking weed; fingering (f receiving); they’re in a car so i guess a little bit of exhibitionism; han calls reader a slut during sexy-time but it’s okay because she likes it; reader calls him hanji 🥺; they talk about kids in the end; suggestive ending;

check out my masterlist here ♡

🗺️: i am not a native english speaker so please let me know if you spot any mistakes/typos/anything!

mature content under the cut so minors dni! 🤨

☎︎

He’s holding the small, transparent plastic bag above his head, out of your reach as he smirks at you cockily.

“This is the third time you hit me up this month.” Jisung points out. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, babe.”, the pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally it makes you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“Am not.”, you roll your eyes at him as you make a scarce attempt at reaching the plastic bag in his hand. He chuckles as he watches you miserably failing. “Am obsessed with that’s inside that bag, tho. Give it to me.”, you growl, frowning.

That stupid smirk won’t disappear from Jisung’s face, and it’s starting to annoy you. “Addiction is not good, babe. The way you’re acting is making me wonder whether I should give this to you.” Jisung teases.

“I’m not addicted to this stuff.”, you shot back, offended by his assumption. “It just helps me relax.”

It’s true - it does help you relax. Though, it’s not the real reason why you keep coming back to him. It sounds ridiculous when you think about it - falling for your dealer. However, you fell for him - you fell hard. You don’t even like weed that much, if you think about it, you keep on buying that stuff because it’s the only thing that somehow links you to him. It’s stupid, you’re aware of that, but that’s just how much Han Jisung has you wrapped around his finger.

“Okay then.” Jisung smirks. “That’ll be fifty bucks, babe.”, he says.

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth slowly agape. “Fifty?”, you squeak. “I don’t have that much money! You sold me the same amount for twenty bucks last time!”, you argue.

“What can I do?”, he shrugs, waving the plastic bag in the air, still out of your reach - even economically now. “That’s how the market works, I don’t dictate the rules, babe.”

You whine, letting out a heavy sigh, defeated. You can’t afford spending fifty bucks on that shit - not when you’re drowning in bills and delayed payments. If what Jisung said is true, that means you’re gonna have to stop calling him - you’re gonna have to cut him off for good.

“Whatever.”, you bite your cheek, a bit annoyed. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”, you turn around in order to leave, but he grabs you by the wrist, making you turn to face him.

“I thought you wanted it.” Jisung says. “Thought you were obsessed with this.”, he mocks you, still grinning cockily, mimicking the quotation marks with his fingers. Annoying.

You glare at him. “Stop.”, you growl. “I mean, there isn’t much I can do. It’s too expensive and I can’t afford it right now.”, you let your arms fall down your sides. “I guess our paths part here, Han Jisung. I’ll see you around.”

He grabs you by the wrist once again, making you snap your head up at him as he lowers his hand - the hand that’s holding the little plastic bag, and places it in your hand. You look at him confused, brows furrowed.

“What does this mean? I told you I can’t afford it.”

“Consider this as a gift from the house, babe.” Jisung smirks, before turning around - walking away from you without uttering another word.

You look at him dumbfounded, bag in your hand, gaze switching from it to Jisung and then back to the bag, then again back to Jisung. “Wait!”, you shout, making him stop right in his tracks. He turns his body to look at you. You quickly walk towards him, waving the plastic bag in front of his face. “I’ll accept that only if you smoke one with me.”

He looks taken aback - this is new. He doesn’t usually do stuff like this - he just sells it, he never smokes it with his clients. “It’s not professional.”, his friend once said. As if being a weed dealer is even a profession, Jisung can’t help but think. Eventually, he figures out he’s got nothing to lose - it’s just weed, he’s done it a million times before.

“Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later you’re in the backseats of Jisung’s car, in an empty parking lot in the proximity of your place, car windows down so that the vehicle won’t smell like weed once you’re done. You watch him as he takes his time in rolling the blunt, licking the paper slowly, almost sensually. You wonder how come he looks so fucking attractive even when licking a stupid piece of paper - but that’s not the focus.

“Y/N?”, his voice shakes you off of your thoughts, holding the joint between his fingers and a lighter in his other hand.

“No, you do it.”, you tell him.

He chuckles. “Why, feeling shy all of a sudden?”, he teases, bringing the joint to his lips.

“No, it’s just - I wanna see you do it.”, you admit - you hope he doesn’t notice the way you’re practically drooling over him as he lights the joint, kicking his head back as he breaths out the smoke, the familiar scent filling up your nostrils.

“God, I missed this.”, he sighs, eyes closed as he fills his lungs with smoke. “It’s been a while.”, he comments, before handing you the joint, which you gladly accept and bring to your lips, doing exactly what he did.

“How come?”, you ask him, breathing out the smoke as well. “Are you cutting down?”, you ask him.

He shakes his head, taking the joint from you - fingers brushing against yours, and it makes you shiver. You can feel the familiar tingle between your legs, and you can’t believe you’re getting turned on just because of a slight touch, that sounds pathetic. Your stupid crush on your dealer is pathetic, but it’s not like you can help it.

“Kinda.”, he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not that I can keep on smoking this shit forever, you know?”, he observes.

You hum, not really knowing what to say. If Jisung were to stop smoking weed, it’d mean he’d eventually stop selling it too, which would mean that you’d have no reason to contact him anymore in the first place. It’s not like you have anything in common - you don’t share classes together, you don’t even share the same group of friends. He’s a friend of your friend, tho, and that’s how you met him. Not a close friend, however, so it’s not like you’d see him around.

“Yeah, I get it, that’s exactly how I feel about this.”, you agree with him.

Jisung passes you the joint, eyes on your lips as he observes the way your lips close around the filter, wrapping around it as you inhale another drag. “I thought you were obsessed with weed.”, he comments, not tearing his eyes off of you as he watches you kick your head back as well. “You’ve been hitting me up like crazy lately. Didn’t think you would be cutting down on weed anytime soon.”, he adds.

You chuckle - if only he knew. You’re not obsessed with weed, you’re obsessed with him.

“You’re what?” Jisung asks in a high-pitched voice, looking at you with wide eyes.

Fuck, there’s no way you actually said that out loud, is there? No, it can’t be possible, you must’ve imagined it. But the way he’s staring at you, kinda shocked, is telling you otherwise. To be honest, you’re as shocked as he is - you weren’t planning on saying that, what is wrong with you?

“I haven’t said anything.”, you try to bluff, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Yeah, your lying game is shit.”, he comments. “Now - say that again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, you shrug, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“I’m talking about…” Jisung shifts in his place, now sitting just a couple of inches away from you as gently grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him - both yours and his eyes are slightly red, but neither of you are too high. “You saying you’re obsessed with me.”, he repeats your words. “Is it true?”, he asks - it’s like he wants you to give in.

That you do. If you think about it - what is there for you to lose? It’s not like you two are close anyways. It’s like you’re stuck in a limbo with him - so you decide to be brave and just say what’s been in your mind for the past weeks.

“Of course it’s true.”, you let out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t even like this shit.”, you point at the joint you’re holding between your fingers. “I just buy it so that I can see you.”

“So I was right when I said you’re obsessed with me.”, he smirks cockily and you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “That explains why you been calling me so often.”, he teases.

You scoff again, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe. I’m just teasing you.”, he takes the joint from your hand, bringing it to his lips once again. “Besides,” he breathes out the smoke and leans closer to whisper something in your ear “I’m obsessed with you too.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you pull away to stare at him with wide eyes. Is he for real or is he saying that just to mock you or worse - lead you on?

“You are?”, you whisper - but in the silence of his own car, he hears you loud and clear.

He nods, biting his lower lip. “Yeah, I am.”, he confirms. “Have been for a while now.”, his fingers brush delicately against your clothed thigh, but it makes your head spin nonetheless.

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?”, you frown.

He sighs, then shrugs. “Because, babe, let’s be real. I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”, he chuckles. “I dropped out of school and sell weed for a living, I’m not the kind of guy parents would approve of, you know?”

“You still haven’t asked me out and you’re already thinking about meeting my parents?”, you tease him, smirking. “I don’t care about that shit, Hanji. If we like each other, we should give it a shot.”, you point out with a shrug.

“What did you just call me?”, he asks.

“Hanji.”, you repeat, smiling. “It’s your name in my phone. It’s short for Han Jisung.”, you explain.

“I like it.”, he chuckles, leaning in closer to your face. “So… can I kiss you now?”, he bluntly asks.

You nod - and he places his lips on top of yours for a chaste kiss that turns into a make out session not too long after. You can taste weed on each other’s tongues as make out in the backseats of his car, the joint now out, forgotten in the ashtray of Jisung’s car - pretty intact. He has his fingers intertwined with yours, while his other hand is resting on your thigh as you’re practically sucking each other’s faces. You can feel the tingle between your legs become more and more intense - you have to squeeze your thighs in order to find some relief, and he notices, hand climbing up your thigh slowly.

He gently pulls away from your lips and nuzzles your nose with his. “How high are you on a scale from zero to ten?”, he asks you, looking you in the eyes.

“Not so much.”, you whisper on his lips. “Enough to know I want to take things further, not too much for you to think you’re taking advantage of me. You?”

“Same.”, he crashes his lips onto yours once again as his hand climbs up, slender fingers no brushing against your clothed core, which makes you whimper against his lips. “Help me slide these off?”, he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your jeans.

You nod eagerly, undoing the button before wiggling to slide them under the curve of your ass, together with your panties. You should feel at least a little embarrassed to be completely exposed in front of your crush - but you’re not. Just eager and desperate to feel his touch on your skin. You watch him as he brings two fingers to his lips and then in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to lubricate them. When he pulls them out, there’s a string of saliva that connects his fingers to his mouth - that sight only is enough to make you whimper, but then he places his fingers on your cunt, right below your clit.

“A little higher.”, you instruct him, letting out a heavy breath when he finally brushes against your most delicate spot.

“Here?”, he asks, and the whimper you let out when he starts rubbing your clit has him grinning when you nod, too fucked out already to answer him. In your defense, it’s been a while since you got your clit acknowledged by a man - so your reaction is completely understandable.

Jisung crashes his lips onto yours once again as his fingers slowly move south, pads now brushing against your slit, and you’re so wet they could easily slip inside. They do. You moan against Jisung’s mouth. It only takes him minutes to bring you close to your orgasm, and you’re actually impressed - he found your g-spot faster than any of your previous partners.

“God, you’re so damn hot.”, he pulls away from your lips only to look at your fucked out expression - cheeks red and flustered as you’re desperately trying to hold back your moans. “Letting me finger you in my car, in an empty parking lot.”, he continues - his words turn you on even more. “So filthy, anyone could see you right now - getting fingered like a slut.”

You nearly yelp when he calls you that, your orgasm approaching faster. He can feel it.

“You like it when I call you a slut, don’t you?”, he purrs in your ear - the car is filled with your whimper and the squelching sound of his fingers thrusting inside of you. “My slut.”, he growls.

You kick back your head and shut your eyes closed, on the verge of reaching your high. That’s when Jisung unexpectedly places his thumb on your clit and starts to draw gentle eight figures, not even thinking about halting his movements with the fingers that are buried inside your cunt. That’s exactly what you needed, and you feel your orgasm wash all over you as you release with a loud whine, practically squeezing Jisung’s fingers with the way your pussy’s clenching, swinging your hips back and forth.

“Good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers, ride it out.”, he growls in your ear. You ride out your orgasm as he said before you eventually stop moving, your legs are shaky and you’re panting. He retrieves his fingers from inside of you - not wanting to overstimulate you, not tonight at least. He’ll leave that for another time.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them as he sucks your juices off your skin, swirling his tongue around his digits to make sure to lick them clean and not miss a single spot. “You taste fuckin’ delicious, babe.”, he whines as soon as he’s done swallowing your arousal.

“I can’t believe we did that.”, you comment with a smirk on your face, sliding your jeans up your thighs, legs feeling a bit jelly. “In your car nonetheless.”

“Yeah, that was wild.” Jisung chuckles. “Like, imagine when our kids will ask us what we did on our first date.”, he chuckles. “What are we gonna tell them?

You snap your head in his direction. “Our kids?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him. “You were scared of my parents not approving of you twenty minutes ago, that escalated pretty fast.”, you tease him, leaning in for a kiss. “Besides, that wasn’t a date.”, you point out.

“It wasn’t?”, he asks, and you shake your head as a no.

“I’m pretty sure fingering me in the backseats of your car doesn’t count as a date, Hanji.”

“I like it when you call me that.”, he smiles, nuzzling your nose with his. “I’ll take you out on a date, babe, I promise. A decent one we can tell our kids about.”, he kisses you on the lips.

You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head playfully as you giggle. “If I were you, I’d worry more about how you’re gonna tell our kids you used to be their mom’s dealer, but whatever floats your boat, Hanji.”, you say and he chuckles and you playfully push him.

“Yeah, maybe we should leave that part out.”, he suggests with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should.”, you giggle, leaning in closer to rest your head on his shoulder. “It would be a fun story, tho.”

“I really want to take you out, babe.”, he mutters after a while, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanna treat you right, like the fucking goddess you are, but I don’t know shit about relationships and romance and stuff like that.”, he lets out a deep sigh. “I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You cup his cheek with one hand, looking him in the eyes. “It’s okay, I’m shit at relationships too, we can learn together.”, you reassure him. “What do you think about it?”

“Sounds perfect.”, he smiles before leaning in for a kiss. And another. And then another. And another. Then another two, until you find yourself lying on your back, his body between your legs, hovering over yours, his erection pressed against your crotch.

You pull away from the kiss, panting, only to ask him, breathless:

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

☎︎

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sadhours · 1 year

Text

Bully - Part 1 of 3

anonymous said: I'm imagining bully!billy who secretly has a crush on fem!reader but doesn't want it to be known cause she's a "nerd" and not very social.

I took this idea and ran with it. Loved this request so much I decided to turn it into a short series. hope you like it!!

tag list; @bbyhargrove

warnings: 18+ minors dni, bully!billy, innocent nerdy!reader, bullying, name calling, blood, virginity mentioned, also perv!billy I couldn’t help myself

Icy blue eyes watch your Ked’s kicking gravel, traveling up your leg warmers and stop at your thighs. He’s watching as your skirt lifts with your steps, hypnotized by the sight and how it’s making his chest and stomach tighten.

“You got the hots for that geek?” Tommy teases, nudging his shoulder.

Billy averts his eyes and flicks his lit cigarette at Tommy, who quickly inspects where the cherry made contact with his sweatshirt, brushing off the ash and glaring up at his friend.

“Think you’re projecting,” Billy chides, but it’s all a facade. He does have the hots for you, thinks about your legs when he can’t sleep at night.

Tommy snorts, “Yeah, totally. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a nerd like that.”

Billy likes the idea of corrupting an innocent, dorky girl like yourself but he won’t admit as much. His ‘friends’ wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So when it seems like they’re catching on to his lingering eyes, he panics and starts overtly messing with you. It’s grade school bully stuff too.

His group follows his footsteps in the hall and when he sees you closing your locker with a mountain of textbooks and binders in your hands, he curves his path and knocks them out of your hand and to the floor. An all too easy, malicious smile curling his lips up as you make a small, offended noise. The gaggle of teens surrounding him erupt in vicious laughter. He’s not sure why but the way you look at him floors his attraction to you and Billy finds himself looking forward to any time he can terrorize you.

In class, he chews on his gum while he stares at the back of your head. He considers for a moment smooshing his gum between the wavy strands but then you might have to cut it and he doesn’t want that. He settles for pinching a pencil thin chunk of your hair and pulling. You head pulls back abruptly and you cry out in pain. All the heads in the class turn to the two of you, Billy looking pleased with himself and a scowl painted on your face as you also turn to look at him.

The teacher sighs, setting the text book down and tilting her head at you and Billy, “Why are you disrupting my class, y/n?”

“Billy pulled my hair!” you tattle, rubbing your fingers over the sore spot at your roots.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, you did!” your voice is shaky as you raise it, afraid of getting in trouble but so sick and tired of his constant harassment.

“Did not,” he bites back like a child.

The teacher rubs her eyebrows with her hand, “I don’t have time for this. Both of you, principals office. He’ll deal with you.”

“But—“ you start to protest.

“Now,” she seethes, scribbling on two passes and extending them out with her hands.

Heaving a sigh, you stand from your desk and start gathering your things. Billy purposefully bumps into you as he walks up to the front, knocking everything from your hands.

When you exit the classroom, you expect him to already be down the hall but your luck would have him waiting against the hallway wall, grinning mischievously at you. Billy takes this moment to scan his eyes up and down your body, which unfortunately for him, goes unnoticed by you. You just think he’s an asshole, bullying you because he bullies all the nerds.

You say nothing, tightening your grip on your backpack straps as you hurry down the hall. Billy’s behind you, watching you way your skirt flutters against your thighs with every step you take. He decides he’s not done having fun, walking very closely behind you so he can step on the back of your shoe and declare, “Flat tire.”

Before you can comprehend his annoying joke, you’re stumbling forward and landing on your hands and knees.

“Ow,” you curse, thanking silently that you were able to catch yourself. You glare up at him, “What is your problem?!”

His smile doesn’t falter but he shrugs, “Oops.”

You stand up, no help from the blonde prick who’d caused the tumble in the first place, and dust yourself off.

“Why do you have to harass me so much?” you demand, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re so mean to me and I’ve never even talked to you!”

Billy frowns, amused by your reaction and shamefully, a little turned on by the tears glistening in your eyes. Billy did get off on some light sadism during sex but this was something entirely new and something he wanted to keep provoking.

“It’s fun,” he says, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. He chews on his bottom lip, watching how his answer clears nothing up and you look at him with hurt painting every detail of your face. He imagines looking down at it in his bed, imagines what kind of noises you’d make and if he could get you to beg for him.

You wipe the tear that breaks free and turn back around, not wanting give Billy the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

In the principals office, he pleads innocence and even suggests your hair had gotten pinned against your back and the seat.

“I think she’s got a crush on me or something,” he invents, “She’s always making stuff up, saying I’m doing things when I’m not.”

Your jaw drops. You do not have a crush on Billy Hargrove. In fact, you hate him. He’s been making your life a living hell since he showed up.

“Mr. Anderson,” you plead, “I am not making this up.”

The principal is conflicted. You have a good reputation, you’re never in trouble and you make great marks. However, he’s seen how gaga all these teenage girls have gotten over the new guy from California and he seems to think you’re probably no different. He doesn’t know who to believe so he gives you both lunch detention for a week.

“That is so not fair,” you complain when he sends you on your way.

Billy looks at his watch, he’s got another few minutes alone with you until the bell rings. He decides to spend that time following you to your locker, leaning against it before you can get to it.

“Can you just leave me alone?!” you exhale, frustration bubbling through your body.

Billy loves seeing you so bothered, he wants to follow you all day and provoke it out of you.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. See you around, geek,” he pushes passed you, nudging your shoulder hard when he does.

The classroom is buzzing when you walk in, kids are bouncing off the wall and you scan around to find an unbothered desk, tucked away in the corner away from everyone. You take solace in it, sinking into the seat and pulling out your homework folder before placing the paper sack containing your lunch at the corner of the desk.

Lo and behold, Billy decides to sit at the desk in front of you and for the life of you, you can’t figure him out. You see he has a couple friends suffering the same fate of detention but yet, he chooses to spend this hour harassing you. He swipes the paper bag and opens it up, peeking in to see it’s contents.

“What am I having today?” he wonders aloud, dodging your hand as you attempt to grab for your lunch. He pulls out the sandwich and opens the baggie, bringing it to his nose to get a sniff. He winces, exaggerating his disgust as he quickly pulls his head back, “Ew! Tuna?”

You’re able to grab the sandwich from him, meekly replying, “I like tuna.”

“Disgusting. You can keep it,” he mumbles, his eyes back in the bag.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he pulls out the bag of celery and carrots and tosses it onto your desk.

“There’s nothing good in here,” he announces, tone dripping in disappointment.

With a sigh, you reach into your backpack and offer him the pack of Snoballs you’d bought on your walk to school. He snatches them greedily, smiling wide and you don’t know why you even gave them to him.

“Why were you hiding these?” he asks around a mouthful of the pink pastry.

You shrug, “My moms kind of a health nut.”

That was an understatement. She would freak if she knew you were sneaking sweets whenever you could.

“Poor thing,” Billy pouts sarcastically and turns his attention back to the front as the principal walks in and rattles off an excuse why he won’t be in the room but says he’ll be checking in every ten minutes.

Great. With Billy being here you won’t be able to at least make this time productive and do a bit of your homework. You attempt anyway, shoving your lunch in your backpack because you’re suddenly embarrassed to eat it around Billy. You pull out your math worksheet and start at the first problem. Then there’s a mess of blonde curls on the paper and soon after, Billy’s entire head. He’s kicked his legs up over his desk and leaned completely back, looking up at you curiously.

For a brief moment, you admire his chiseled features. His thick eyelashes, bright blue eyes, adorable button nose, pink lips, and his sharp, strong jawline. You feel a slight twinge in your nether regions, something you’d only felt once before when flipping through a copy of Teen Beat at a sleepover. You know you’re blushing because Billy laughs, his adams apple bobbing up and down with the sound.

“Can you move your head? I’m trying to do my homework,” you choke out, trying to ignore how attractive he is.

“No,” he says it so casually, because he doesn’t want to move his head. He likes looking up at you like this, how flustered it’s making you.

However, his neck is starting to hurt and he fears this might look like flirting to someone else. But he’s kind of frozen there, smirking up at you.

“Please,” you whisper, hating the way your voice sounds on your ears.

Billy loves it, smirk turning into a pleased grin and he’s sure you’re soaking in your panties just from looking at his face. Not the safest thought at school, he thinks as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans and sits up, tucking his legs back under the desk and ignores you for the rest of the hour.

You’re relieved but shocked, catching yourself glancing up at the back of his head repeatedly. You’re sure he’s planning something sinister. The warning bell rings and you start to pack up all your things, pulling your lunch out so you can toss it in the trash on your way out. As it turns out, Billy was planning something but it wasn’t as thought out as you’d expected. He waits against the doorframe and as you’re walking past him and Tina, he sticks his foot out. Yours gets caught on it and you fall forward, unable to catch yourself this time as you face plant out into the hallway. Your nose stings, and it’s wet.

“Walk much?” Tina sings and you’re not sure which stings more, your chest or your nose.

You lift yourself up and look down to see blood on the floor, bringing your hand up to your nose and feeling thick fluid pouring out. Then you taste the blood, metallic on your tongue as it seeps down to your mouth.

You expect more laughter, and there is laughter but not the hyena-like laugh you anticipated.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Billy’s voice and feel his hand on your back.

You brace yourself for a shove to the ground but his other hand wraps around your bicep as he helps you to your feet.

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” he says to his buddies, ushering you down the hall and when they give him a confused look, he offers, “Not trying to get more detention.”

That makes sense. Why the hell would he be nice now?

“I figured you would’ve caught yourself,” he mumbles as you head toward the nurses office.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t speak. There’s too much blood and you really don’t like the taste of it. You were naturally clumsy, tripping over air most of the time but Billy doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s reaching for paper towels and holding them to your nose for you.

“Oh, no!” the nurse exclaims, standing from her desk and rushing over, “What happened?”

“She tripped,” Billy says, “Landed right on her face.”

The nurse nods to Billy, “Thanks for helping her down here. I’ll get her cleaned up. You can go to class.”

He shifts on his feet, “I’d actually like to stay. Make sure she’s okay and all.”

The nurse looks over at you and you nod slowly. You figure he’s making sure you don’t tattle on him again. Billy’s genuinely concerned though, he feels like his father and it makes his skin crawl. He didn’t intend to actually hurt you. Plopping on the cot beside you, he sits so close your arms are touching. His skin is warm, you notice, and it’s weirdly comforting. You think you actually want a hug from him even though he’s the reason your nose hurts so bad.

“Is it gonna bruise?” Billy inquires. He couldn’t forgive himself if it did.

“Too early to tell,” the nurse mumbles, tilting your head back to speed up the process.

The metallic taste drips down your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to get sick from it. You feel Billy’s fingers brush against yours for a brief second and he pulls away quickly. He eyes your face, his brows furrowed. God, he feels like an asshole and you totally think he’s one. A cute one but still an asshole.

“Does it hurt?” he asks when you’re walking to your respective classes, hall passes in hand.

“Yes,” you mutter.

The bridge of your nose aches dully. You also pray it doesn’t bruise, not sure of how to explain it to your mother. If she knew you were being bullied, she would march right up to the school and raise hell. Especially if she found out a boy was the one bullying you.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, rushed before he walks into his class.

You can’t tell him it’s okay and maybe that’s for the best. It should be okay but you’re honestly not that mad at him.

After the awkward apology, you expect the torment to end. Wishful thinking. Billy’s at your locker when you get to it and he extends his hand. You look down at it confused and then back up to his eyes.

“Snoball,” he grunts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He’s just as bad as your mother. You heave a sigh and reach into your backpack, pulling out the packet of Ding-Dongs you’d excitedly purchased at the corner-store.

He laughs childishly as he snatches them from you, “You like Ding-Dongs, eh?”

“Stop,” you can’t handle the innuendo, cheeks on fire.

“I assumed you’d never had one before,” he looks at you with raised brows.

You falter, eyes widening as you push hm away from your locker and begin to enter the code. You haven’t. Ever. You’ve never even kissed a boy.

“And I was right,” Billy muses with another cackle, “You’re a fucking virgin.”

“Leave me alone,” you plead with a mumble, grabbing your textbooks and binders for the first four classes.

“As if that’s news to anyone,” Carol snorts as her and Tommy walk up.

Billy laughs harder, seemingly fueled by his friends joining in on the fun. Your stomach churns. All you want is for them to leave you alone. Sure, you’d dealt with teasing here and there since grade school but this was excessive. You didn’t even understand why they were doing it. Yeah, you were categorized as a nerd and a loner but there had to be another reason why Billy was picking on you so hard. You’d seen him get in fights with guys but you hadn’t seen him be so cruel so anyone else. Or obsessive.

“See ya around, geek,” he shuts your locker before you’re finished getting your things, strutting off down the hall with his friends. Magnetically, your eyes follow his ass in his extremely tight jeans. You catch yourself and press your forehead to your locker, groaning out loud.

He had been sure you were a virgin, but now that you’ve confirmed it, his mind is racing. He sits back in his chair, the teachers lecture going in one ear and out the other as he ponders if you’ve even kissed someone before or if he’s the first man to give you any kind of attention.

The thought is odd though. You’re definitely not unattractive. Yeah, you focused on school and when you dressed provocative, he could tell it wasn’t your intention to have eyes on you. God, he loved when you wore skirts. Which, with the season changing and the temperature rising, you did most days.

The bookworm thing kind of turns him on which was new. He’d never been into it before he saw you. All the girls he’d hooked up with in the past ran in the same social circles with him. You were quite the change of pace, maybe that what his fascination with you was about. Who was he kidding? It was your thighs.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the bell rings, indicating it’s lunch time. Another hour with you. He’s pleased to see you in the same seat as before. He takes the desk in front of you, snaking his leg around the seat so he sits facing you. He picks up the lunch sack placed at the corner and dumps the contents out onto the desk, pursing his lips as he pokes around at what your moms packed today. Not much of it looks good enough to eat. He sees your cleavage peaking up from your shirt and grins, now that’s appetizing.

“That’s a low cut shirt,” he points out, hooking his finger in the collar and pulls the material down.

Your eyes widen as you pull back and slap his hand away. He smirks, watching as your cheeks redden. You pull your shirt back up, willing the warmth spreading up your thighs to subside as you squeeze them together. You liked this kind of teasing much more and wished he’d just stick to that stuff.

“Can I put my lunch away now or are you not done picking through it?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His mouth scrunches up to the side, like he’s thinking it over before he delicately picks up the baggie filled with apple slices. He opens it and pulls one out, inspecting it carefully before taking a bite of it. He keeps his eyes on yours while he eats it and his gaze gets too intense for you to hold. Shoving the various baggies of food back the paper sack, you keep your eyes focused on your hands. In your peripheral, you notice Billy holding out an apple slice to you. As you peer up, fingers extending to accept the offer, he pulls his hand back and laughs. You give him a defeated look.

“Get it with your teeth, not your fingers,” he instructs, his tone condescending as he offers it again.

You don’t know why, but you listen, taking the apple slice with your teeth. You hate the way he smiles at you, like he knows he could get you to do anything for him. Worst of all, you hate that you would, hate the way he excites you, the way you want to do what he says. You’re worried you might be a whore.

Your mom had warned you about boys like Billy. Boys with pretty eyes and smiles that could corrupt you. Perhaps that’s why you’ve never entertained the thought of being involved with any boy in that way.

He grins sadistically, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His words only making that rising heat harder to ignore.

You’re saved by Mr. Anderson, “Billy. Sit in the goddamn seat properly and stop antagonizing Ms. Y/L/N.”

Billy’s snatching your pencil before he follows the principals order. You think you see him blushing when he’s yelled at but you can’t be sure, it happens too fast. You reach into your pencil case to replace the one he’s stolen, getting started on the chemistry homework you were dreading. You wish he’d distract you again, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say another word to you the rest of the hour and you don’t see him the remainder of the school day.

#billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fic #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove #billy hargrove angst

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bitchlessdino · 10 months

Note

another request because ofc!!! reader finds out seokmin is a virgin and wants to change that 🤭 bonus points if it starts out of pity because they actually don’t like each other but turns into actual desire 💃🏼 mwah

Pairing: virgin!seokmin x afab!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.6k

tags: mention of alcohol, manhandling, oral (reader giving), pet names for seokmin, dry humping, heavy dirty talk, unprotected sex, swallowing

author note: hi mitchieeee, i hope you enjoy hehe

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha

“Wait, you’re a what?”

“Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” Seokmin whines seeing how hard you try to hold back your laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re a virgin. Wow, at your grown age.” You wipe away your unshed tears before setting a hand on his shoulder in a kinly manner. “Oh baby boy Minnie, you cannot just lay this on me and expect me not to do anything.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t trying to let you know.”

“Well, we’re going out tonight.”

You hadn’t known Seokmin for long, but as far as you can tell, he’s as good as these guys can get. It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but it was very hard to believe considering what a good guy he is. He’s such a textbook good guy that you had a hard time believing it. No one was that nice. He had you convinced he was two-faced at one point, but nope. Seokmin is merely just Seokmin. And maybe that was his problem.

“How about her?” you ask subtly nodding at a girl from across the bar.

“Are we really doing this?”

You tsk at the young man before asking sizing the girl up. Acting no better than a man, you pick apart mentally why she’d be a potential candidate. Eventually, you shake your head the moment you see she is being tended to by what looks to be a girlfriend of her own before you move on to the next available person with a heartbeat.

“Oh my god, wait, her! She’s perfect.” You clap to yourself momentarily and push him in her direction, reminding him what you’ve taught him. “Go, go. Compliment her shoes, or ask what she’s drinking!”

A look of discomfort is apparent on his face but he goes off in that direction anyway, stalking the target as you leisurely sipped your cosmo. It seemed to go well for a while–watching a smile on her face as they talk–but that mood takes a turn when she gets up to leave and not alongside Seokmin. When he returns to you, he’s unsure what went wrong but you reassure him the night is still young and there are plenty of opportunities for him to make a connection.

Encounter after encounter, drink after drink, none have stuck around and in the end, he retreats back to you all the same. You expel an exaggerated sigh as you cross your arms seeing him strike out a sixth time in a row. Even after all the rejection, he doesn’t seem too offended by it, leisurely sipping his watered-down cocktail. You narrow your eyes back at him, seeing him blink back like a lost lamb. “You’re not trying, are you?”

“I don’t want to even be here.”

You shake your head, pinching the skin between your eyebrows as you took a deep sigh. “I thought you wanted to know what it felt like.”

“Of course I do, but this isn’t it.” He pulls his stool from underneath him closer to you. He set his finished drink aside for the bartender to take and slouches his shoulders. “Let’s just go home. This is no way to do this.”

And like that, a lightbulb flickered in your head until it bursts with endless luminosity. “We should go home. Because you’re gonna do it with me.”

You drag him by the wrist and immediately go hail a taxi, flailing your arms like a psychopath until one was desperate enough for cash to take you.

“Are you drunk?” Seokmin asks in bemusement. “Why the hell would we of all people do that?”

“Why the hell not? I’m flexible. I can take my leg all the way up to my shoulder.”

Seokmin’s jaw slightly drops upon hearing that, picturing that, before shaking out the words from his head and realizing too late he’s joining you in a cab. “Not the point. Why are you willing to help me by going that far?”

You look at him with a stern face before shushing him with your free hand and turning to the driver with your address. You finally arrive back at your apartment, paying the driver before getting out of the car and dragging him up the flights of stairs.

“You still haven’t answered me,” his voice echoes in the building fixtures, booming louder than usual. “And slow down, will you?”

“Walk faster.”

Entering your apartment, you realize this is the first time he’s been in here. You realize it’s the first time anyone’s been in here. You toss your keys aside and offer Seokmin a drink. He sounds off a decline and takes in the gravity of this situation as he’s scanning your residence. “Your place is nice.”

You grin, tugging him to your side again, and drag him to the couch to immediately straddle his lap abruptly. “Thank you. I like to think I’m settled in by now.”

“Are we actually doing this?”

You smooth your pal over his shoulders, your smile picking up from one side. “You don’t seem entirely against it.” You press down on the grown erection under you, a soft groan leaving his lips.

“Of course not, little Seokmin barely has a mind of his own—“

You squint. “You call him little Seokmin—“

“Besides the point, don’t listen to him. He’s only thinking of one thing.”

“Sounds like me and him are on the same page, now all we need is you. Tell me why we shouldn’t, Seokmin,” You say as you start grinding down on his toned, firm thigh. You watch his face contort in interest, submission, succumbing to your advances. Your hand trails over his cheek, noting how his breath hitches when your fingertips tap against his neck. “While I give every reason why we should.”

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Y/n—shit, this is such a b-bad idea.”

“That’s not a reason, Seokmin.”

“I could do something wrong.”

“Which is why I’d teach you, baby.”

He blinks back at you frantically, his cock straining in his pants until it hurts. He looks so pliable and pretty, it takes everything in you to keep the pace slow. At a moment’s notice, your hand thread through his hair and pulls his head back. He softly whimpers, eyes struggling to stay on you as your lips made their way down his jaw, then his neck, before closing your lips around his adam’s apple.

Seokmin holds down his pants to keep from poking you, and uses his shallows breath to distract him from your lewd gestures. He realizes how ineffective as your hips dip into his, pushing against his cock, and a groan leaves his lips like live pornography. It physically moves you to the point you’re determined to hear more.

“Tell me, Seok. What can I do to convince you?”

“Apparently, not much,” he mumbles with a harsh blush against his cheeks and ears, struggling underneath you, “Why do you want this?”

“Me?” You push his head back up to meet his eyes. “I just had a sudden hankering for virgin pretty boys. Is that a good enough reason?”

“...Ok, I-I think so–” and your lips meet his, pressing into his body and letting it naturally melt around him.

His hands claim home reluctantly around your body, feeling the soft texture of your back over your shirt before caressing it tenderly. His other arm loops around your hips, discovering how perfectly it hugs your body close to his as follows your languid movement in the kiss. It scratches a part of his brain to hear you moan the way you did, he feels himself kissing you deeper, needier.

Seokmin’s body slouches underneath yours, gripping your thighs until he was squished at his waist and gradually his hips move on their own against you. His cock bumps against your throbbing cunt repeatedly until he’s practically drilling against you. Your voice, sultry yet delicate, burns in his ears, turning them a vibrant scarlet and suddenly he’s lifting you with your body tightly wound to him and pushed into the cushions of the couch.

You let out a startled gasp, not having predicted such action and his body is relentlessly against yours against you, digging into you, taunting you, ruining you. “You, t-tease.”

Seokmin acts as if he doesn’t hear, as if he can only focus on how good it feels for his cock to rub against you right now. His body rolls against you enough that you can feel the friction of the zipper on your clit, making you writhe underneath him. His kisses grow hungrier, tongue traveling inside you like he’s starved for every morsel. It’s pure animal instinct. So pure and primal, he’s convinced he’ll cum right then and there, but practices self-restraint. If he’s learned one thing from satisfying his own urges, it’s patience.

Your legs wrap around him, pushing him closer, the sensual noises you make only make him fall deeper, making him weaker.

“Put it in me…” you cry, “I want your cock fuck so deep inside me. Please, Seokmin…”

Seokmin finds the word “no” to be impossible at this point, but he can’t help but still feel anxious at the idea of it happening. “Hold on.” He procures his wallet from his back pocket before taking out the condom you planted earlier in there for him and sets it aside on the coffee table. “I’m sure you want your clothes off, yeah?”

His hand comes at the hem of his long sleeve before it over and off his body, revealing a body you’ve only ever seen in sports catalogs. You’re so stunned at the clear concaves and curves of his abs and pecs, you barely grasp that he’s helping you with your shirt off. His hand smooths over your frame as he’s kissing over your chest, moving against you again to distract you from your request moments ago.

He slips your pants between your bodies, hearing it hit the ground, and replicates that movement with his own pants, now only the barrier of your underwear stopping you. He swallows noticing the giant stain right where the center of your core is. “It’s so…wet.”

“Yeah, it’s what you’ve been doing to me.”

He ravels you like it's a delicate process, slipping down the sides of your panties until over your legs and off your body to have your bare pussy, glossy from all the arousal, twitching at the sight. It fuels something in him. “Shit…”

“Do it…put it in me…”

He swallows again, knowing his little Seokmin badly wants what you want, so what is he stalling for? He shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths. “Okay…”

“Don’t be scared…I’ll only bite if you want me to. Take out your cock for me.”

Just as slowly as he has done you, his briefs come down achingly slow, but reveal the perfectly big cock ready for the taking it. You marvel at it, drool forming at the corner of your lips, your clench and unclench your fist before darting for his girth. However, you are prevented from doing so by Seokmin himself, feeling the tremble in his hands. “I-I’ll do it. I just–”

“You don’t have to be nervous, Seokmin. It’s just me.”

“That’s exactly why I am nervous.”

“But why–ah, ah, shit.”

You feel him ease into you, the stretch of his cock was deafening with every mouth-watering inch. He takes light strokes as a test, plunging his fat cock into you like nothing while you bite your bottom lip, eyes flicking to the back of your skull.

“Wait, shit, the condom.”

You shake your head. “Don’t bother. I rather we didn’t anyway. Fuck, you’re so big.”

“Am I?” He asks pumping in you in a concise rhythm. “That feel good? Am I doing it right?”

You softly moan, clenching around him as you absorb the soft, careful tone in his words. “Yes, Minnie, but deep for me, please. Do what feels natural. Use me like your toy.”

“O-okay.”

He takes your advice and down pushes in deeper, groaning at the sensation as he picks up the speed. “Fuck…”

“Shit, that’s unreal.” You whine, “Faster, Seok. I said to use me.”

He listens as he’s fucking you faster, harder. He clutches the flesh of your ass cheeks, spreading you open. Your body stiffens, hands over his knuckles as you follow him. “Yes, like that. Fuck.”

He’s barely comprehensible in his grunts, truly seeing you as a thing to fuck that he just knows will make him insufferable. “Your. Pussy’s. So. Good.”

“Yeah, you like that Minnie? You like splitting my raw pussy open with your fat fucking cock?”

He nods gingerly.“Yes. I. Do. Shit. Pussy’s. So. Wet. Good. Around. Cock.” He folds into you, pressing his chest against yours and kissing your lips to swallow your moans. “That. Feel. Good?”

“So good, baby. Give it to me more, baby.”

“More? More?”

He pounds you harder, biting your lips as his hand roams down to find your clit. You moan like a stupid slut at that but take a moment of bemusement to wonder where the hell that came from. “W-where? How?”

“Porn.”

He makes it so that you can move even an inch away from him, feeling your sweat mixes into each other until you don’t know where you start or he ends. He rubs your moisture around your clit while his thrusts remain an enigma, once so timid and careful, now leaving you breathless with every generous jerk every waking second.

Eager to experiment more, Seokmin pulls you up from the couch and pressed your chest against the cool wooden coffee table, pulling your ass in the air. His cock reenters you from behind, now the sound of your ass slapping against his lap is so delectably wet and delicious, that everything else feels numb.

You grip the edge of the table, legs elevated with curled toes. “Yes, fill me up please…you fuck me so fucking good…oh, Seokmin…a fucking natural…”

He finds your clit once more, going at it for what feels like forever, and enjoys you as if it's the last. He revels in your entirety contracting against him and he knows his patience can only take so much at this point.

“Seok, I’m cumming. I’m cumming. Just like that, please.”

He knows it's the beginning of the end the moment you open that dirty mouth of yours. He holds himself together, letting you come apart around him before he’s announcing he’s close with much trepidation. You nod back knowingly, a wide smile breaking out on your face. “Pull out, and put it in my mouth.”

He quickly obliges, seeing you getting on your knees and grasping at his shaft. You angle him at your lips, the slick force from your fingers milk every built-up tension from his cock and bursting it in your mouth in milky white. He memorializes how it hits your tongue, how big your smile is before you lick up every bit of it and suck his cock clean, and how much relief and pleasure he’s gotten from the whole ordeal. He’s overcome with a sense of gratitude.

“That was good. The student learns fast.”

“That was good,” he repeats.

“Amazing, actually.”

“Okay.” At this point, it was understandable to his brain had become mush, but he never knew it come to this extent.

You chuckle. “Your first time good?”

“Very.”

“Good, now I’m gonna teach you a little thing about aftercare. Lords knows how many guys go out fucking without knowing what is.”

Before you begin getting up he pushes you back down, a fierce look of determination from his eyes. “Can I eat you out first?”

Your eyes shoot open in pleasant surprise, quickly maneuvering yourself to sit back on the coffee table with spread legs. “Looks like someone’s been doing his homework.”

That night you learn he wasn’t only natural with his dick he was a natural with his mouth too. it helped to have his pretty nose.

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

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feasibilities · 2 months

Text

Professional Perversions- Dr. Jonathan Crane x Psychiatrist!Reader ♟️

Warnings: Blackmail, Non-Con, Workplace Harassment, Degradation, Stalking, Dacryphilia, Oral Sex (F), Slapping, Overstimulation, etc. Author's Note: Jonathan is a villain so I wrote him as such. Read at your own risk!

Working at Arkham Asylum for the last 5 years meant that you worked with the criminally insane daily. You were a listening ear to the sadistic fantasies or childhood trauma of your patients. You also prescribed medication that they never bothered to take. More often than not, your patients were repeat offenders who were discharged far too early. You couldn’t understand why this kept happening and recommended institutionalizing them for longer periods. Your complaints fell on deaf, unsympathetic ears. Such is the nature of working for the state. You were at the mercy of bureaucracy.

Your supervisor, Dr. Jonathan Crane, seemed to enjoy compounding the stress of your job. He was Chief Administrator of the asylum, so there was no way to bypass his antagonistic behavior. He would often assign you with assessing difficult, violent patients. Your medical notes on these assessments came back with harsh criticisms in red ink. He would never answer calls or emails from you, so you’d have to chase him down while he was doing his daily walkthrough. During weekly meetings, he would chastise you in front of your colleagues. It was the little things as well. He’d let the elevator doors close on you or reject your attempts to make small talk. Your days ended later than everyone else’s—and with you sobbing in your car.

—

Please come to my office as soon as possible. We have some important matters to discuss.

Dr. Jonathan Crane

Chief Administrator of Arkham Asylum

555-9240

Dread pooled in your stomach as you read the email. What could you have done? Naturally, you assumed the worst—you were about to be fired. Being terminated from a government job would mean you couldn’t get hired anywhere else in Gotham. Jonathan obviously wouldn’t put in a good word for a prospective position. Wanting to get this over with quickly, you made your way to his office. Knocking politely, he answered you from behind the door with the gold-plated sign that read ‘Chief Administrator’.

“Come in.” He said plainly.

You came in and looked around briefly. His office was luxurious compared to yours. His Ph.D degree hung on the wall above a mahogany shelf of awards and plaques. The chairs were plush and made of leather. The whiteboard was filled with equations that made no sense to you, adding to your feelings of inadequacy.

“If you’re done gawking at my accomplishments, please take a seat.” Jonathan criticized. You quickly sat down and sighed in annoyance.

“As you know, I have had some concerns about your competency regarding this job. Your patients haven’t shown any progress. They also continue to report suicidal or homicidal tendencies.” Jonathan admonished you, waiting for a response.

“My competency is not the issue, but rather the competency of my superiors. Patients can’t progress if you discharge them prematurely. These people need help reintegrating into society. You cannot just throw them out onto the street.” You retorted, growing frustrated already.

Jonathan’s eyes focused on you intently. You saw a faint smirk flash across his face before retreating back into the same sterile expression.

“I follow the orders of my superiors. You can submit a complaint if you are dissatisfied with our procedures.” Jonathan countered.

“As do I. I’ve submitted several complaints and nothing has come of them. You find the time to punish me for the smallest mistakes, but you couldn’t find the time to consider my input? Your competence, or lack thereof, is the reason why this hospital has the highest recidivism rate in the city.” You argued.

Jonathan swallowed harshly and clenched his jaw. His stark blue eyes were filled with hatred. For you, this was payback for all the times he lambasted you. It was humorous that someone who was so critical of others couldn’t handle it when the shoe was on the other foot. You also had no problem filing a lawsuit for wrongful termination as you had a paper trail on him. You feared him no longer.

Removing his wireframe glasses, he walked to the front of the desk and stood over you. Uncomfortably close, he stared down at you.

“Fear is such a fascinating feeling, isn’t it? You know that better than anyone.” He teased.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You spat, growing tired of his odd behavior.

“Every mental health professional that works here is required to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. You were asked what your biggest fear was—are you afraid of being stalked?” Jonathan explained, leaning in even closer.

Sick to your stomach, you turned away from him and tears brimmed your eyes. He grabbed your chin and forced your gaze towards him.

“Isn’t it so sick that someone knows your morning and nightly routine? Your favorite perfume? The kind of panties you’re wearing right now?” Jonathan remarked, getting off on your distress.

You could’ve died of humiliation as you stared up at him. You finally understood why he treated you so poorly—it was a front to hide his obsession with you. During those contentious moments, he wasn’t thinking of how “incompetent” you were. Obscene images of you bent over his desk or you touching yourself in the shower were there. To his benefit, he caught you in the shower one night when you left the shades open. You realized why you found a soiled handkerchief in the bushes the next morning.

“Why me? What could I possibly do for you?” You croaked, trying not to provoke him.

“Everything I could ever want.” Jonathan divulged, brushing his thumb against your lips and smudging your lipstick.

You started thinking of your escape plan. Maybe kick him in the balls and run? Stab him with one of his expensive pens? Before you could take action, he bent down and kissed you deeply. You tried to pull him away, but to no avail. His plump lips caused that familiar twinge in your lower stomach. He ran his large hands up your stocking-covered legs before stopping at your garter belts. He kneaded the exposed flesh there, earning an unintended whimper from you. This emboldened him as he moved his lips to your neck.

“T-this isn’t right.” You sputtered as you tried to ignore the moisture between your legs.

“You want this. You always have.” He whispered, moving his hand up further. Your body’s response to his actions made you question your sanity. Jonathan suddenly pulled you up from the chair and laid you on his desk. He undid your garter belts with an almost surgical precision. Hiking up your dress, he stared at the black lacy panties that adorned your cunt. He pulled the material aside and studied the glistening of your arousal. You had the perfect opportunity to claw his eyes out and bolt out of the office. However, you sat there wanting him to finish what he started.

Jonathan ran his nose down your thigh as he took in your scent. Sliding the lacy material aside once more, he began flicking his tongue against your sensitive floret. Not being able to look away, you took in the visual of your despicable supervisor going down on you. His gaze was no longer sterile—it took on a marked concupiscence. Suddenly, you felt him press his face into you. He sucked harshly, causing you to moan loudly. He buried his nose in the trimmed tuft of your pubic hair.

“Stop it.” You pled, knowing you wanted the opposite.

Disregarding your objections, he slipped two fingers inside of you and curled them upwards. Pumping his fingers steadily, another low groan came from him as he reveled in the sapidity of your juices. You yanked at his hair to stop him before you came. You were much too late. You let out an untamed moan as Jonathan watched you fall apart. Your vision went white as your orgasm sent shockwaves through your body. He lazily lapped at your clit as you came down from your high. Removing his fingers, he put them in your mouth. You mindlessly suckled on them.

“The human mind is so malleable, isn’t it?” Jonathan said. Your humiliation ran deep at his words. You were like putty in his hands and you resented it. He began removing your dress while you looked away from him. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you knew what was to come. Jonathan groped your breasts through your bra and placed your hand on his clothed crotch. His erection was beginning to hurt as he had it since you walked in his office. You felt him throb in your palm.

“You look so beautiful when you cry. All those times you spent sobbing in your car really did something to me…” Jonathan divulged, undoing your bra and taking in the sight.

“You don’t have to do this. Just fire me, please.” You agonized.

“Shhh.” Jonathan hushed you.

“Don’t hush me. I’m not a child.” You complained.

Jonathan took a ball gag from his pocket and put it on you. Laying you back on the desk, Jonathan yanked your hips towards him until you were flush against his. Unbuckling his pants, he pulled himself out and sighed in relief. Pre-ejaculate oozed from the tip and he was red hot to the touch. You were astonished at his size. You blinked away tears thinking of the pain you were about to experience. You tried to scoot away before he snatched you back. Growing tired of your insolence, he slapped you roughly.

“Behave.” Jonathan warned. A searing burn was left on your cheek. Sliding into you, he started thrusting with bestial force. Your breasts moved with each thrust as Jonathan lost himself in your pink depths. Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, you decided to play his game. You started rubbing your clit fervently and trying to moan his name through the gag. Noticing your reaction, Jonathan pinched your nipple harshly and deepened his thrusts. You mewled at the sensation.

“This is all you wanted, didn’t you? A good screwing?” Jonathan hissed, watching white slick cover his shaft. You nodded and breathed heavily as you came once more. Skin hitting skin, the squelch of your arousal, and your desperate whimpers were like music to his ears. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny how gorgeous a fucked-out Jonathan looked. His face was twisted in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed occasionally. His taut lips pursed intermittently to hold back moans.

His thrusts started to stagger as he approached his climax. Pulling out, ropes of seed shot onto your torso. An audible groan of pleasure finally left his throat. He made sure to smear droplets of it against your entrance. You recoiled at the thought of getting pregnant by him. He would have you forever.

“Let’s savor this moment, shall we?” Jonathan smiled, pulling out his phone. Tears welled up in your eyes as he snapped pictures of your body. Holding your throat tenderly, he took one last photo of your face. Those pictures would be kept for his personal collection—and for blackmail if you ever decided to quit. You painstakingly got dressed and bit your lip to hold back sobs. A silent exchange of glances happened between you and Jonathan before you walked out of his office.

#sorry y'all...#don't look (yes look)#my writing #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #batman begins #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 9 months

Note

Hello! I really like your Twisted Wonderland work!

I was hoping if you can do House Wardens/Vice Wardens/First Years (pick which one is easier for you) react to a Fem! MC that's like Nanami Kento from Jujutsu Kaisen?

It's ok if you don't feel like doing this! I hope you have a lovely day 💕

Nanami Kento Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re well dressed, unemotional, and fairly powerful. Facts are everything to you as well as convenience. You’ve been told you don’t act your age but you don’t care, being as strict as you are surely you're better off than most. Your future lovers friends don’t think the same and they can’t help but try to stoke the flames of your heart with their own:

Epel Felmier

“C’mon (Y/n), please don’t tell! I want to stay with you!”

“I don’t want to entertain your antics at my expense. Vil will be informed, shortly.”

“Noooo!”

That’s the greatest challenge when he’s pursuing you

Even with Rook and Vil policing his time and behavior

you are the apple of his eye

Always out of reach, it gets tiring really quick

Eventually he can’t help but use his training with Vil to bulldoze over his obstacles

All so he can focus on you

And solely you

By the time he’s done he’s only focused on conquering you

Granted you’ll surely fight him but facts are your jam, right?

So its a given you two will be eternally bound together

Ace Trappola

“Whoa whoa why are you getting all bent out of shape?!”

“I doubt that’s all I should be doing. Considering I’ve found you stealing from my laundry.”

“But (Y/n)--Ahh! Now the butcher’s knife!” You both clash far too often

But man, does he love it

The small side-eye when he’s annoyed you enough

The way you so cooly take down any body who dares bother you in NRC

The way you perfectly attack whatever you slice at

It all leaves him swooning

You have a tough shell but he’s going to break it

But in the mean time he’ll break the greedy nuisances in your favor

It bothers to emote to them all

So consider their deaths it a gift

Sebek Zigvolt

“HOW DARE YOU–”

“Quiet. Lower your voice–”

“WHY SHOULD I–”

“Or I will make it so you cannot raise it again.”

He’s floored by your audacity

But you look beautiful doing that

Always dressed to the ‘T’

He only wishes to be graced by your praise

You don’t do that often

Which is why when he’s assured his Malleus -Sama is well protected

He darts to follow your every move

Waiting for that acknowledgement silent vow to an eternity together

Steam-rolling puny humans is of second nature to him

Especially if they’re also on the path to you

Deuce Spade

“P-please don’t talk to him anymore, he’s dangerous!”

“Is he? So now you are the expert?”

“N-n-no! I’m just looking out for you!”

“Than don’t.”

He wishes to reach your level one day

So beautiful, so strong, so irresistible

He’s not bad if he goes to defend your honor

Even if those offenders want to idolize you too

Jack Howl

“How is your training?”

“It is…fair.”

“As expected it’d be foolish to learn the power of cursed energy in such a short time.”

“Give me time, (Y/n)! I’ll take you on oneday!”

With a mate as desirable as you he knew he’d have to fight

Just not you

And on top of that the same is for his rivals

But he’s determined to have you

So dispel your stubborn rationality and let him protect you

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere jack howl #yandere jack twst #yandere epel #yandere epel felmier x reader #yandere epel felmier #yandere deuce spade #yandere deuce x reader #yandere deuce spade x reader #yandere sebek x reader #yandere sebek zigvolt #yandere sebek twst #yandere ace trappola #yandere ace x reader

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candycandy00 · 2 months

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The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Vaginal sex. Bondage. Dildos. Humiliation. Oral sex. Tons and tons of cum. Gojo being an asshole.

Gojo looks confused, as if you just spoke a different language to him. “Hurting you? Was I too rough with the training? I’m sorry, I thought you liked-“

“No, not the training!” you yell. The training was the only part of this whole thing you enjoyed. “It’s all the sarcastic remarks about me being cute or little or ‘highlighting my best features’! Saying all those things when I know what you really think of me! And now saying you love me?! You want to keep me?! How stupid do you think I am? How cruel do you have to be to try to get my hopes up just so you can laugh at me?!”

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why would I try to trick you? I wasn’t being sarcastic! Fuck, why are you so insecure?!”

You stare at him with your mouth dropped open, totally stunned. “You made me this way!” you scream, tears flooding your eyes. “You gave me this insecurity!”

He actually looks offended. “How?!”

“You made fun of my looks for two years! You, the most beautiful person in the school, laughed at me, said horrible things about my clothes and body, gave me that awful nickname, made me feel ugly and disgusting… made me hate myself!”

“I never made fun of your looks!” he says, his voice getting loud. “I thought you were beautiful! Why would I make fun of your looks?!”

“You called me Chubby Bunny!”

“It’s a cute nickname!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Even if you thought that, didn’t you notice that everyone was laughing at me because of it? You started that! And you laughed right along with the others! You made my life hell!”

He draws back as if he’s been slapped. “I… I just teased you… I-“

“That was more than teasing, Gojo! I was terrified of you! You were my boogeyman. If I heard your voice coming down the hall, I ducked into a room or hid around a corner until you were gone, because I was so afraid of what you would say or do to me!”

“What? No! I never hurt you! I couldn’t have… I was crazy about you!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Is he actually rewriting history to make himself feel better? “What about when you tripped me in the hallway? I twisted my ankle. I couldn’t even get up by myself. Geto had to help me! And while I was on the floor, another boy walked by and said I looked like a seal! A few of them made seal barking noises at me for days after that!”

The outrage in his expression is gone, replaced by a look of uncertainty. “I didn’t know anyone said that. I was just joking around. I tripped my friends all the time, even Shoko! I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“So you saw it,” you say, your voice a little more quiet now. “Did you enjoy it? Watching me limp away in tears?”

“No! I actually felt bad about it, I swear! I even thought about apologizing, but Suguru said I should just leave you alone.”

“But you didn’t leave me alone, did you? You took my things, you made constant comments about my clothes. You laughed so loud whenever I made a mistake in class or even dropped a pencil, which got everyone else laughing too. You made me the laughingstock of the class! Why did you do that to me?! What did I ever do to you?!”

He looks hurt, almost sad. “I wanted your attention. You always ignored me. Every girl in the whole school paid attention to me, except the one girl I wanted. And the only way I could get that was to make you mad. I just… wanted you to look at me.”

“I did look at you then, didn’t I?” you ask. “I looked at you with fear. You made me dread going to school.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking one step toward you. “I didn’t realize I hurt you so much. I was just a dumb kid back then. I can make it up to you, I can-“

“No, Gojo, you can’t.” Tears are running down your face. You wipe them with the back of your hand before going on. “Do you remember when you grabbed that love letter I was about to put in someone’s locker, and read it out loud?”

He flinches. He definitely remembers. “Yeah, and I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, I know!”

“There’s something you don’t know about that letter,” you say. “I actually wrote it two years before that. I wrote it for you, back when I was in love with you. But I was too shy to even anonymously sneak it into your locker. I was afraid you would somehow find out it was from me, and be disgusted. But I couldn’t throw it away, just like I couldn’t completely throw away my feelings for you, no matter how badly you treated me. So I held onto it. And when I started liking someone else, I realized all those same feelings applied to him. So I tried to drop it in his locker. But you grabbed it, and read it, and laughed. What you were laughing at, Gojo, were my feelings for you!”

Horror is written on his face. He has the same expression as someone who has just been informed that a family member has been in an accident. “I didn’t know… I was jealous… I’m so sorry!”

You don’t engage with his apology. You don’t have the mental strength to do that right now, so you continue airing your feelings. “Even after graduating, I had a complex about my body. I wouldn’t let anyone see me naked, not even my boyfriend. He probably broke up with me because of my hang ups. Eventually I was able to bury my feelings for you, the love and the hate. But then… I came here…” you say, your voice breaking as you begin crying again. “And all those feelings came rushing back to me! I worked so hard to forget about you! And now… now my heart is in tatters!”

There’s a flicker of light in his eyes. “So you do have feelings for me! Even now!”

You scoff, wiping your eyes again. “Yes, but that’s the problem! Loving you is hurting me! Because it makes me feel low and weak and pathetic. I even started feeling lucky that someone as perfect as you could hold back their disgust long enough to fuck me.”

“Don’t say that!” he practically yells, his face twisted in pain. “This whole time I thought I was the lucky one! Fuck, I’ve practically been permanently hard since you got here! I spent my high school years dreaming of touching you. Even when I’ve been training dolls, even when I was fucking them, I imagined they were you!”

You shake your head. “It’s too late. You already did the damage. I can’t be your doll. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve owned me for far too long. I can’t let you literally, legally own me for ten more years. It would destroy me.”

He seems to be at a loss for words, his eyes shimmering and wet, like he’s about to cry.

You wipe your face again. “I can’t stay in here tonight. If you touch me, I might crumble. If you’re serious about feeling anything at all for me, you won’t do that to me. I’ll ask the owner if I can sleep in one of the empty rooms.”

“No, I’ll go. You can stay here,” he says, his voice unusually gentle. He grabs a few things and then heads for the door. Before stepping out, he looks at you again. “I really am sorry,” he says to you, and then he’s gone.

************************

Not long after, Gojo is knocking on Suguru’s door, not caring what he might be interrupting. It takes a few minutes for his friend to answer, his long hair slightly messy and his face annoyed. “What is it, Satoru?”

Gojo doesn’t even say anything, just looks at him.

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Let me guess. You told her you’re keeping her and she told you to go to hell.”

“It was so much worse than that!” Gojo practically whines.

With a sigh, Suguru says, “Let me clean up in here and I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

An hour later, the two friends are sitting at a table, cups of tea in front of them. Gojo has told Suguru every word of the conversation he had with his doll, twice.

Suguru takes another sip from his cup. “I tried to warn you when she first got here, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen.”

Gojo is leaning over the table, his head on his arms. “I thought it would work out. I thought making her fall in love with me again would be easy. And it sort of was. She said she still has feelings for me!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that part a dozen times already,” Suguru says, sitting his cup back on the table. “But for her, you’re the person who ruined her life just to get attention. Loving you only makes her feel worse. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from you.”

Gojo looks up. “But I didn’t know! I didn’t know so many other people were making fun of her because of stuff I did, I didn’t know about the letter. I didn’t know I was hurting her so much!”

“Now you know,” Suguru tells him. “The question is, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?”

************************

The next morning, you wake up in Gojo’s bed. It smells like him, and you can’t help remembering all the things you’ve done in this bed with him.

But it’s over now. You’re going to talk to the owner and tell her to find a buyer for you as soon as possible. Gojo can move on to his next doll and hopefully both of you can put this whole mess behind you.

The owner agrees to meet you in the welcome room to discuss your situation, and you find her standing in the center of the room. A folder is tucked under her arm.

You open your mouth to speak to her, but Gojo suddenly rushes in. “Did you bring it?” he asks the owner, not even looking at you.

The owner opens the folder and pulls out a paper. “Here it is, her contract. She is now your doll.”

“Wait!” you yell, confused and angry. How dare he do this after everything you said last night! You read your contract, you know you can reject him as your owner if you give sufficient reason. You’re pretty sure your history with Gojo would qualify. Still, the fact that he’s ignoring your wishes makes you livid.

Before you can approach him, he turns to face you and holds your contract up in front of him. “You probably won’t believe me, but I planned to do this from the very start.”

With that, he rips the contract into tiny pieces and lets them fall to the floor.

You freeze, watching the shreds of paper falling before your eyes.

“You’re free,” he says. “You’re not a doll anymore.”

Your eyes widen. The owner sighs and shakes her head, saying, “Gojo, do you understand what you’re doing? This was your one doll to keep. You can’t ever pick another.”

“I know. I’ll never want another doll anyway,”

he says, then looks at you again. “I know this doesn’t make up for what I did to you, but I hope it can be a start.”

You feel your eyes becoming wet again. You’re free! You don’t have to give up ten years of your life after all! You glance at Gojo, unsure of what to say.

“I never wanted to own you,” he says, his face a little sad. “I just want you to be happy. If you believe anything I’ve told you, believe that.”

“I… uh…” you flounder for a moment, trying to decide what words to use before finally settling on, “Thank you.”

He smiles at you. “Maybe someday, if you want to, we could try being friends? No pressure or anything. Just think about it.”

You nod, somewhat dazed. In the end, you leave with his phone number and return to your normal life.

It takes over a month for you to text him. Just an awkward, “How are you?” that he replies to within seconds. You can almost feel his excitement to hear from you.

“I quit my job as a trainer,” he tells you. “I just wasn’t all that into it anymore.”

You wonder if it’s because of what happened between the two of you, but don’t ask. A small part of you is relieved that he doesn’t currently have some other woman on a leash in his room.

For the next couple of weeks, you and Gojo talk via text and phone calls. He never asks to meet up, and never tries to pressure you in any way. You do discuss your past some more, calmly this time. He listens quietly to everything you say, apologizes over and over, and (only when you’re ready to hear it) explains why he did all those things.

His reasons were so childish and petty, it makes you realize he was just fifteen or sixteen years old when he did those things. Maybe it’s not fair to keep punishing someone for things they did at that age, if they’re trying to make it right as an adult.

One night you have another anemic spell, and your friend is at work. The only family you have is your mother, and she’s still hospitalized. Nervously, you text Gojo. He’s already told you to let him know if you ever need anything, but the thought of seeing him face to face again makes you uneasy.

Still, he shows up at your door in a flash, a bag full of food and DVD’s hanging on his arm. Seeing him standing there in your living room, so tall and so beautiful, makes your heart race.

“Did you faint again?” he asks, looking so worried.

“No, I just felt dizzy and weak,” you tell him.

“Then just relax,” he says with a smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he does. He cooks for you, brings you hot tea, and sits on the couch with you watching movies. He stays until the next morning, and you’re a little surprised that he never tried to tempt you into sleeping with him. You remember that the last time you weren’t feeling well, he did the same thing.

To be honest, you’re a little disappointed.

After that, the two of you are officially friends. You talk often, always checking in on each other’s days, getting to know each other’s habits and schedules.

The friendship doesn’t last long.

The first time you go to his place to “hang out just as friends”, both of you give in.

One minute you’re sitting on his couch, laughing and talking, and the next you’re wrapped in his arms, his tongue in your mouth, his hands tugging at your clothes.

He spreads you out naked on the cushions and eats your pussy like a man starved, saying how much he missed you, missed tasting you, missed watching you cum. He goes at it for over an hour, making you climax so many times you practically forget how to speak, only able to whimper and gasp.

Then, he fucks your ass, absolutely railing you. You’re so overstimulated by this point that you just want him inside you, no matter what hole he uses. Overwhelmed by your own feelings, you start crying. Gojo holds you close to him, hugging you gently, rubbing your hair, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fucks you relentlessly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re so beautiful. Feels so good inside you… Fuck, you’re incredible!”

You know what he’s doing, and it only makes you even more emotional. He wants you to know what he thinks of you. He doesn’t want you to question how attractive he finds you. He doesn’t want you to feel insecure.

The two of you begin dating after that. You couldn’t ask for a sweeter, more supportive boyfriend. He takes care of you, pampers you, treats you like a queen. He even goes with you to visit your mom in the hospital. And through all this, you feel like you’re finally beginning to heal.

And when the two of you are alone, and very horny, sometimes you go back to being his Bunny. Not Chubby Bunny, he’s never called you that since finding out how much it bothered you, but just Bunny.

Right now, you’re in the living room of his apartment, all the curtains closed and the door locked. You’re wearing your collar, bunny ears, and thigh high stockings, and nothing else. Your hands are handcuffed in front of you, and you’re on your hands and knees, your legs trembling as you crawl toward Gojo, who is tugging on your leash.

It’s hard to crawl with two huge dildos shoved inside you, one in each hole, both of them vibrating and rotating wildly. Earlier, Gojo got on his knees behind you and jacked off until ready to cum. Then he stuck just the tip into your pussy and filled it full. With his fingers, he scooped up the cum that leaked out and pushed it into your ass. Then he put the dildos in, leaving them to churn and stir up his cum, telling you not to let them fall out.

It feels so good, being full of his cum, the sensation of it swirling inside you. But there’s one more hole that hasn’t had any yet. So you crawl between his spread thighs while he sits on the couch, looking down at you lovingly. You nuzzle his clothed crotch with your face and say, “Please fill my mouth, Satoru~”

You’ve only recently started calling him that. It felt a little weird at first, after calling him Gojo for all these years, but you love the effect it has on him when you purr out his name like that.

You hear his breath catch in his throat, but he manages to compose himself. “Such a naughty, greedy Bunny! I’ve already filled two of your holes! Why don’t I just put the third dildo in your mouth?”

“No, please! The real thing… in my mouth… please,” you whine, staring up at him with glossy eyes. “Your cock tastes so good, Satoru… please feed me your cum!”

His eyes go wide, and you can just barely hear him mutter, “Holy fucking fuck!”

You’ve leaned by now that he’s totally weak to your begging. You’re the one handcuffed and leashed, but Gojo would move heaven and earth to please you, to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

“Th-then I guess I’ll fill that pretty mouth,” he says, his hands fumbling with his pants in his hurry to get them open. He stands up, towering over you. There’s a faint blush across his pale features, and he’s breathing a little harder than usual as he pulls out his cock. You open your lips, your tongue partially out. He grins. “You’re gonna have to open wider than that, Bunny, or this huge dick won’t fit.”

You lick your lips, then open your mouth wider, and he immediately shoves in. He fucks your mouth, thrusting into it, hitting the back of your throat, groaning when your tongue laps at every inch it can reach.

“F-fuck! Your fucking mouth… so good…”

These moments together are so much hotter now that you can fully enjoy them, knowing he finds you irresistible. It makes you feel sexy, desired, loved. Knowing you can make him lose his mind gets you wet every time.

Just when your jaw is starting to get sore, he pulls out so that he’s barely in your mouth, and shoots his load inside it. There’s so much!

“Don’t swallow it yet,” he says, his face slightly red, his hair messy. He grabs the third dildo and pushes it into your mouth, turning it on low so that it can slowly stir his cum in your mouth, spreading it to every inch. Then he stands back and watches as all three of your holes, full of his seed, are fucked by the gyrating toys.

You moan around the dildo in your mouth, locking eyes with him. He’s panting, his eyes wild with desire. Before your eyes, his cock gets hard again, standing tall and gorgeous just like him.

He drops to his knees behind you and uses his hand to pump the dildo in your ass, in and out, making obscene squelching noises. With his other hand, you feel him pull the dildo out of your pussy. He holds it up, and you look at it over your shoulder. It’s dripping with his cum and your wetness.

“Gotta be inside this pussy,” he mumbles, and then he’s thrusting into you, deep and hard enough to make your body jerk with his motions. You’re sore from being fucked by the dildos, which are almost as big as Gojo’s cock, but you wouldn’t pass this up for anything in the world. He pushes the dildo into your ass to the same rhythm as he fucks your pussy, making your eyes roll back as you release muffled cries.

Gojo is grunting behind you, losing himself, babbling out words.

“Fuck… fuck… I love you so much… this cock belongs to you… every ounce of my cum belongs to you… everything I am… yours…”

He thrusts in deep enough to make you scream, and shoots loads of hot cum into your core. After pulling out, he quickly pulls out the dildo in your ass, sticks his cock in, and shoots out the rest of his load.

He’s panting as he turns you over, so that you’re lying on your back, your legs splayed, creamy cum dripping out of both holes. He reaches over and gently pulls the dildo from your mouth, watching as your tongue continues to lick at it, collecting any remaining cum from the sticky object.

“Just how much do you love my cum?” he asks, staring down at you in awe.

You run your tongue around the edge of your mouth. “It’s delicious,” you say.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, pulling you up and unfastening the collar.

You snuggle into his arms as he helps you to the bathroom, enjoying how incredibly sweet he is during after care.

The two of you have come a long way. Even now, you’re not certain you’ve one hundred percent forgiven him. And occasionally you remember something terrible he did to you and it makes you uncomfortable around him for a few days. But he’s putting in the work to make it up to you, and you’re having a wonderful time enjoying being his girlfriend. You couldn’t ask for a happier ending than that.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen @xkittiecatx @ryumurin @emrys3456 @mysecretesc8pe @typicalloser3 @gabriiiiiiii @fvsm4x @tyunhyukamyloves @rottmntrulesall

#gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader

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