#it's two people in love having a silly exchange between each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shuadotcom · 2 months

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143 Miles (M)

💞Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

💞Summary: You and your boyfriend decide to change up your Valentine’s Day plans this year, so you plan a two-week getaway - or a “love vacation” as Seungcheol calls it. With each destination, you fall more and more in love with each other and it may just be your best Valentine’s Day yet.

💞Genres & AUs: Fluff, smut, established relationship au, road trip au

💞Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

💞Warnings: Profanity, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart, baby girl), big dick!Cheol

💞Words: 5k

💞Note: Here’s my fic for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub! Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely valentine @gyuwoncheol !! 💘 I hope you enjoy my beloved Paula!!!!! 😘 ❤️

Thank you to my girlies @horanghater and @onlymingyus - Bambi for always coming in clutch as my beta and Mars for the beautiful banner!! 💕

“Okay, on the count of three,” Seungcheol declares once you’re both back in the car. “One…two…three!”

You reach into the bag in your lap and dramatically present the trinket to your boyfriend. He bursts into a fit of laughter upon seeing the small smiling frog donned in a cowboy hat resting in the palm of your hand. You quickly notice that he’s holding the same figurine. You join in with him, the two of you cackling in the front seat of the car together. You’re sure anyone walking would think the two of you look deranged, but neither pays that any mind.

“Well, guess this means we’re tied this round,” you manage when you finally collect yourselves.

“Yeah, but I’m still winning,” Seungcheol boasts, taking the frog from you and putting both away in the backseat.

“By one point!”

“A win is a win,” your boyfriend shrugs, grinning widely at you. You concede and start the car, somehow forgetting how competitive your boyfriend can be, even over something as silly as a game of who can buy the other the most ridiculous gas station souvenir. You’re on day three of your cross-country road trip and Seungcheol’s souvenir picks have been just a little sillier than yours. He’s simply lucky is all.

It was his idea to do something different this Valentine’s Day. You and Seungcheol have been together for almost five years and every year in February you’ve done the same thing when it comes to Valentine’s Day. You usually go out on a date somewhere, always a fancy romantic lunch or dinner, and then an activity such as a movie or a trip to the amusement park. Neither of you are ungrateful about the time you spend together, of course. You love one another and anything you do will be enjoyable if you’re together. Your dates are always full of nothing but shared love and admiration for each other. You love Valentine’s Day and celebrate it by spreading more love than usual to your boyfriend and he loves doing the same, but you both wanted to change it up this year, so when Seungcheol brought up going on a road trip, you wasted no time in agreeing.

Initially, you thought about driving from Seoul down to Mokpo, but that is only a 4-hour drive at most and didn’t feel like enough of a trip. That’s why Seungcheol brought up something that was once on his bucket list: fly to the US and then drive to the other side of it and back. He mentioned that it was something he’d always seen in American teen movies growing up and he always thought it looked fun and like a way to get even closer to the people you care about. And since you’re the person he’s closest to and cares about the most, he wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.

It didn’t take you much convincing either. You can never say no to a good road trip, so you both took time off work at the beginning of February, packed your suitcases, and booked a flight to New York. From there, you rented a car - a BMW to be exact, at your boyfriend’s insistence. (“It’s our love vacation! We have to drive in luxury!”) Then start your journey to Washington, planning to stop at as many states in between as you can.

You’ve finally made it into New Mexico with the end goal of getting to Las Vegas to stay for a night. Neither of you had many goals for where you would stay or what you’d do when you got to every state and are just winging it. It’s more fun that way.

Well, except when it comes to your souvenirs. You decide to stop at a gas station in each state for the wildest souvenir you can find after you unearth an Empire State Building-shaped mood ring right before you leave New York. It’s an extremely impractical shape and you demand that he put it on as soon as you leave.

Once you get back onto the highway Seungcheol fiddles with his phone, making sure his Bluetooth is connected.

The familiar first notes of “Sugar We’re Going Down” by Fall Out Boy start and your mouth quirks up into a smile. Every time it’s your turn to drive on the trip, Seungcheol insists on playing the playlist of your favorite songs that he made for you. The gesture still makes you feel warm at how thoughtful he always is, even when it comes to the little things.

Drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel, you relax in your seat. Seungcheol turns the volume up and rolls down his window just a bit. The February air is a little crisp, but not too cold. As soon as Patrick starts belting over the speakers, you join in, singing the song word-for-word as you go. Other than talking and playing silly road games, a favorite of both of yours has been using the car as your karaoke room.

Both of you have more than enough playlists to never run out of a soundtrack to your drive and you’re not shy about singing around one another. For the first few hours at the start of the drive, you had nearly gotten a sore throat from how serious you were at road trip karaoke. You were only missing a tambourine and the typical multi-colored karaoke laser lights.

The drive to Nevada will take nine hours, so you do half of that drive, and that whole time you and your boyfriend sing your hearts out on the way. Every once in a while, he reaches over to feed you a chocolate at your request for a snack. He makes sure that his finger grazes your lip or your teeth each time, chuckling when you nip at his digits or place tiny kisses on them. Little moments like this with Seungcheol make your heart even more full, which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are - falling more and more in love with him each simple moment like this.

When Paramore comes on shuffle, Seungcheol goes all out during “Ain’t It Fun,” doing all of the ad-libs and being the guitar and the drums. At this point, you’ve made it more into town and hit a stoplight after passing nothing but dirt and rocks.

It gives you a chance to look at him, admiring the way his dark hair falls in his eyes - the eyes that turn into half moons when he smiles wide and laughs loudly. You can’t help but swoon over the giggle he lets out when he notices you watching him put on a solo concert, his dimple making its appearance and you want nothing more than to lean over and kiss it. And then kiss him on his lips that you know are so soft and warm and made perfectly to fit against yours like a puzzle piece.

So you do. You lean over the console quickly when he turns to you again and gives you a closed-mouth smile. Seungcheol lets out a noise of surprise, but gladly accepts the kiss, his hand reaching to cup your chin as your lips move slowly against his.

A honk from the car behind you makes you spring apart and then you remember where you are and see the green of the stoplight in front of you, indicating that you’ve got to focus on the road again. Seungcheol reaches over to take your hand as you start driving again, placing a kiss on the top of it, keeping it in his hold as you continue, both of you getting back to your playlist and the road ahead. You can’t help the way your heart swells and you almost don’t want this moment to end. You would travel around the world and back if it meant you could do it with Seungcheol.

When the sun sets on your journey, Seungcheol has always insisted that even if it’s not his turn, he’ll do the driving. He’s halfway through the state of Arizona when it gets darker and he’s behind the wheel. You didn’t stay in New Mexico long, only stopping to refuel and make sure to see what that gas station has to offer in the form of trinkets. Not much, as it turns out, but you manage to win this round of your game when you snag a keychain with an alien riding a donkey while all Seungcheol finds is a pen in the shape of a chili pepper with a mustache. He couldn’t not give you that point even if he tried to argue with you just a little about it.

Seungcheol hums along to his music, keeping it low enough not to disturb you while you try to sleep. He passes a mountain range, briefly admiring how the moonlight shines on the red rocks surrounding you. His attention quickly gets diverted to you when you turn in your seat to face him. You have the smallest pout on your lips and your eyebrows are scrunched up the tiniest bit. Cheol knows how hard it is for you to fall asleep in the car, but he still makes you try so you can get rest.

His eyes focus on the road, but he can’t help but steal glances at you and your cute expression. Not only does the moonlight bounce off of the nature around, but it also does the same to your face. It highlights your cheeks that he loves to pinch, your nose that he loves to boop, and your perfect lips that he loves to kiss. Your facial muscles relax when you seem to slip into a state of rest finally and the sight of your expression that he can only describe as angelic has his stomach doing flips.

It’s been almost five years and every single day that he gets to look at you, he counts just how lucky he is to call you his. From the moment he met you, you occupied space in Seungcheol’s mind, and to this day, over everything else in his life that swirls around in his brain, he always comes back to you. Your face, your voice, your body, your everything. You are everything to him and he’ll tell you every single day for the rest of your lives.

“I love you, so much,” He whispers as one of your favorite songs plays through the car and you stir, just a little.

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you. And everything you do.

A smile tugs at the corner of his as he glances your way again. The stars, the moon, the sun, all of it truly does shine for you and only you - his whole world.

When your phone’s calendar reads February 14th, you and Seungcheol finally make it to Las Vegas and you decide to treat yourselves to a fancier hotel. Instead of the usual 3-star hotels (and a few seedy motels) you stayed at along the trip, Seungcheol finds the nicest hotel that the two of you can afford. You even get so lucky as to somehow snag the honeymoon suite. “It is our love vacation after all,” being his reason yet again.

You definitely don’t complain when you walk into the room and kick your shoes off, immediately taken aback at just how fancy and spotless everything in the room looks. The bed is the biggest you think you’ve ever seen and is covered in rose petals. The large window across the room overlooks the city of Las Vegas, the neon lights brightening up the room before you even turn the lights on. The furniture looks modern and clean and the room even smells fresh yet sweet. You can’t place the scent of the air freshener, but you love it nonetheless.

“Holy shit, this is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in!” You marvel, running and plopping onto the large bed. The bed is big enough for you to starfish comfortably on and you start making comforter angels, Seungcheol laughing as he flops next to you.

“Only the best for my girl,” he hums, squeezing your socked feet, forcing a sigh out of you.

“Damn, I’m so sore.”

“Well if you’re interested, there’s a more comfortable place for your sore spots.”

You lift your head to look at Cheol and follow where his finger is pointing. There’s a half wall across the room made of decorative swirls of metal that you can see straight through. On the other side sits a large jacuzzi bathtub.

“Is that our tub?!” You spring up from the bed and rush over, eyes widening at the size.

Seungcheol comes up behind you while you’re admiring, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. “That definitely looks like our very own giant, two-people-sized tub.”

“Looks like it has jets too.” Your hands rest atop his, fingers threading together.

“I think I even see some bubble bath on the counter over there.” Lips meet the back of your neck, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“Hmm, how about I get the bath going and you grab the bottle of champagne chilling in that bucket by the bed? Then we can order room service. I’d love some good sushi.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Seungcheol punctuates his sentence with a final light kiss on your neck. You have to quite literally peel yourself from him, but you manage it as the two of you split up.

It only takes a few minutes for him to grab the bottle along with the two glasses and for you to get the bath running. As soon as the water is warm and bubbly, you and Seungcheol shed your clothes on the floor as you each slip into the tub with you sitting between his legs. He manages to find the button that powers the tub, the jets hitting you at all sides, including your outstretched feet.

You relax into the water, tilting your head back, and resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“I have some bad news for you, Cheol.”

“What is it?”

“I think I must pass away here, just like this.”

Your boyfriend breathes out a laugh behind you, wrapping you in his arms again.

“You’re telling me you’d just up and leave me like that? And to stay with a bathtub no less!” You can hear the pout in Cheol’s voice and it makes you giggle.

“It’s nothing personal, baby, but I mean you can’t produce jet streams of soothing water.”

“Hmmm. That may be true, but I can do this.”

Seungcheol’s fingers dance up the front of your body, gently cupping your breasts and squeezing. His fingers tweak your nipples in between gropes, making you let out a surprised moan.

You practically melt into Seungcheol’s chest as he plays with your sensitive buds and your eyes flutter closed.

Soft moans fall from your lips as your head lolls to the side, Seungcheol using the opportunity to latch his lips to the side of your neck. His teeth scrape over your skin, nipping and biting along the way.

Seungcheol has always loved to mark you. He loves leaving not only signs to others that you’re his, but every hickey and every bruise is a little reminder that he’s the one who makes you feel good and he’s the one that you always come home to at the end of the day. Not that you need a reminder because you’ll always come back to Seungcheol no matter what.

You count at least two reminders now, one on the side of your neck and another at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His fingers never leave your nipples, the stimulation already making you nothing but putty in his hands. If you weren’t in the tub you’re sure you’d be making a mess of whatever panties you would be wearing.

Your boyfriend trails kisses from your shoulder, up your neck, to your ear, and lands on your cheek, peppering your face with a few more kisses. His plush, slightly chapped lips kiss any spot he can reach as his hands trail down from your waist to your thighs. Seungcheol opens your legs wide and shifts you both around in the tub. The moment the jet across from your body hits your clit, you let out a shriek and Seungcheol knows he’s positioned you the way he wants to.

The tub jet feels like heaven coupled with Seungcheol’s relentless hands that are back on your tits, cupping and squeezing in the perfect way you need it.

“Ngh, Cheol!”

“Hmm? What is it, baby?”

“F-fuck. I need you.”

“You need me? But didn’t you say a little while ago that you wanted to stay with the tub since it has jets? Aren’t you enjoying the jets right now?” His tone is smug yet teasing, warm breath hitting your ear and making you shiver.

“Cheol, please!” you pout at him, doing your best to beg in between whines.

“Oh, so you do need me, huh?”

“Yes!”

“And what is it that you need, sweetheart?”

Seungcheol tugs at one of your nipples harshly, making you jolt. You feel so close to cumming already, but you do your best to hold off. You want to cum around Seungcheol’s cock or even his fingers - something, anything of his.

You voice this to your boyfriend, choking and stumbling over your words along the way. Seungcheol’s gaze is heavy as he peers down at you, enjoying how you squirm and wiggle in his hold. Your head is resting on his shoulder as you look up at him, batting your eyelashes and pouting extra hard. He loves it when he can see how needy you are for him and how much you want him. He especially loves all of the noises you make for him - the pants and the moans and the whispers of his name.

He needs to hear more from your pretty lips, and he knows exactly how to do that.

With a smirk, one of Seungcheol’s hands releases your tit and trails between your legs. The tip of a finger taps against your clit, an embarrassing moan tumbling out of you in response.

The thick digit slides into your eager pussy and it takes everything in you not to sob at the feeling. Seungcheol crooks his finger as he pistons his hand and the heel of his palm knocks against your clit each time. You practically dissolve into his hold while his other hand plays with your nipple, your brain already turning to mush at all of these sensations combined.

“Fuck, sweetheart, listen to you. You sound so fucking pretty.”

“C-Cheol…”

“God I love it when you say my name. I wanna hear it again,” Seungcheol slips another finger into you, and you yelp out his name again without even thinking about it. His pace quickens, fucking you with his fingers as quickly as the bubbly water around you will allow.

“Yes! Please don’t stop, Cheol, please!”

“Mm, I won’t, baby. Want you to cum for me. Come on, pretty girl, let go for me.” Seungcheol’s voice is so deep that you practically feel it in the pit of your stomach. The pads of his fingers digging into your sweet spot, the jet from the tub still pelting your clit each time his hand moves, and his hard cock digging into your lower back are enough to have your world tilting and your orgasm knocking into you as soon as he tells you to let go.

Your body stiffens as you cum, the shrill sound of his name that you let out sounds too loud in your ears, but Seungcheol eats it up. He curses under his breath, telling you another handful of times how pretty you sound and how beautiful you look falling apart for him.

Seungcheol caresses your cheek and chin as you come down and when your breathing seems to steady, he tilts your face back and kisses you. His lips meld with yours, kissing you as if he’ll never get the chance again, making you even dizzier.

His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and when you let him in, he swallows up all of the desperate little sounds you puff out. He pulls back from your lips suddenly so he can help you turn around in his lap. The water in the tub sloshes as you get comfortable facing him and straddling his waist.

Neither of you wants to waste any more time, the carnal desire to have Seungcheol inside of you is a mutual feeling.

The head of Seungcheol’s swollen cock prods at your sensitive folds, whimpers falling from your lips as you start to sink onto his length. His hands hold your hips as you lower until he’s completely sheathed between your wet walls. You and Seungcheol have had sex more times throughout your relationship than you think you can feasibly count, and each and every time the stretch is familiar but always succeeds in taking your breath away.

“Shit, Cheol…”

“Feel good, baby? My fat cock stretching you out?” Seungcheol grunts between clenched teeth.

“Yes, s-so good, Cheollie.”

“You’re still so fucking tight, baby.” He winces when he feels your walls twitch, squeezing his dick and momentarily making him speechless. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With Seungcheol’s grip tight on your hips, he helps you lift a little, letting his cock slip nearly all the way out before you slam back down and he’s shoved inside of you to the hilt. You share a groan as he helps you ride him, finding a steady rhythm. The water around you continues to splash, but he only moves you in his lap faster.

Your head falls back as you alternate between bouncing on his cock and swiveling your hips, letting out curses and calls of his name. Seungcheol bucks his hips up to meet your movements, fucking up into you as much as he can in the slippery tub.

“Shit, you look so beautiful like this. You were made to take my cock, you know that, baby? This pussy was made for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” His compliments only spur you on, your fingernails digging into the thick skin of his shoulders as you grind on him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but you ignore it. The feeling of your boyfriend’s girth driving up into you over and over makes you feel floaty, everything around you fading away. The only thing you feel and the only thing you know is Seungcheol and his hands on your moist skin, his lips sucking bruises onto your tits, and his dick kissing your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

Seungcheol knows your body better than anyone, so he knows when you’re going to cum. He notices the frantic cries, the way your body shakes, and that far-away look in your eyes.

“Gonna cum for me, beautiful?”

“Y-yes, fuck yes.”

“That’s right, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. Can you do that?”

“Mmhmm! I’m so close, Cheollie!”

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Seungcheol moans against your chest, burying his head in between your tits as he drives his hips up so hard, you almost lose your balance. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I’m close too, fuck - gonna fill you up. Can you handle that, baby girl?”

“A-always! I can a-always handle y-you, baby,” you gasp out, your stomach tightening and your body buzzing the closer you get.

Seungcheol keeps one arm around you while the other snakes in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit without even having to try. The stimulation shocks you and has you mumbling gibberish, a mix of your boyfriend’s name and pleading words. Your fingers slide up and into his dark locks, threading your fingers through the brunette strands and tugging, making him growl into your skin.

“Please, fuck, Cheol I’m gonna cum!”

“I love you so much baby,” Seungcheol nearly explodes right on the spot with how your gummy walls clench around him again, but he manages to hold off. “Cum for me, sweetheart…” He nips at the side of your breast and applies more dizzying pressure to your clit.

“I l-love you too! I’m cum - fuck!” Your words are cut off with a scream as you tumble right over the edge, cumming harder than you did the first time, tears pricking the edge of your eyes.

Seungcheol lets go right after you, his face still in your chest as he holds you close, moaning out words of pleasure, love, and admiration about you and how you feel like “literal fucking heaven” and how you’re his and his only. Seungcheol pumps you full of him, his warm seed dripping from your throbbing pussy and mixing with the remaining bubbles around you. Somewhere in between his pussy-drunk babbles your ears pick up something about making you his wife.

You both stay where you are for a few minutes, your fingers lazily raking through his hair as he keeps you close to him, placing small, closed-mouth kisses on your hot skin.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles, letting out a sigh as his hand, still between your bodies, moves to rest on your thigh.

“I love you too, Cheol,” you sigh back, a drunken-post orgasm smile on your lips. Even through your haze, you didn’t forget what he said. “Did you…did you mean what you said?” you whisper out, hoping he knows what you’re referring to.

“Which part?” His question sounds calm, but you notice the way his fingers on your thigh press into your skin a little harder.

“The part about making me your wife?” A fraction of a second of silence hangs between you both and part of you starts to panic. What if he only meant it at the moment? You’ve had fleeting conversations about one day being married, but it was always lighthearted and more in a “one day we will” way.

When Seungcheol finally answers you, it’s in the form of a sigh. Wordlessly, he lifts you from his softening cock and untangles your limbs, sitting you down in the tub.

“I didn’t want to do this now or like this, but I can’t hold it anymore. Especially not when you ask me and look at me like that.” He steps out of the tub, giving you another look before sticking his feet in his complimentary hotel slippers and shuffling into the main part of the room.

You watch him rummage around in his suitcase before he comes back to the tub and kneels on the bath mat, facing you. You immediately spot the red velvet box in his hands and you gasp, tears immediately gathering in your eyes.

“I wanted to do this when we got to Washington and say some cheesy words about seeing the world with you and traveling everywhere with you for the rest of our lives, but I can’t wait any longer. Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honor of being my forever Valentine and be my wife?” The emerald stone of the ring shines back at you, surrounded by small diamonds on a gold band.

“Yes! Of course I will, Cheol!” you sob, tears blurring your vision as he plucks the ring from the box and slips it onto your finger, placing a kiss on your knuckle after it’s securely on.

Seungcheol cups your face with both hands as he leans forward and kisses you. The kiss is soft and warm and you can just feel the love that Choi Seungcheol holds for you in his heart seep out. His love overtakes you, your heart feeling more full than you think it’s ever been.

“I love you so much, Y/n.” he sighs when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, Seungcheol. So fucking much.”

Your boyfriend fiance smiles widely at you, his own eyes red-rimmed with potential tears as he scans your face. “I can’t wait to officially make you my wife. And you know, if you want, we are in Vegas so we could technically make it official tonight.”

With a sniffle, you shake your head. “Patience, my love. We can worry about all that wedding stuff when we get home. Let’s just focus on us and this, and right now.”

He pouts dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Good boy,” you giggle, watching the way his eyes darken at your playful praise. “Now, how about we actually open that champagne and order room service? I’m still craving sushi badly.”

With a chuckle Seungcheol nods, standing as goes back into the room to look for the room service menu.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. We have all night to eat anything you want to order.”

“Good, because if they have good pizza I want that later too. Oh! Or maybe kimchi jeon if they happen to have that!” Seungcheol chuckles at your enthusiasm as he comes back with the menu.

Before you order, he helps you out of the tub when you complain about the water going cold. Dinner is put on hold again when you decide that a warm shower in the luxurious shower stall in the bathroom should come first before you get comfortable for the evening.

In between the warm water cascading over you and Seungcheol helping wash your back, you end up bent over the bench in the shower, Seungcheol slipping into your still-aching cunt again.

As your fiance makes you cry out around him yet again, somewhere between the moans and grunts, you’re both able to whisper “I love you” and “Happy Valentine's Day” when you share another blissful orgasm.

Tomorrow you’ll be back on the road and back to making the rounds for silly souvenirs, but tonight it’s all about you and Seungcheol and this moment right here. You can’t wait to have many, many more Valentine’s Days with the love of your life.

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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

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kinktober day four: voyeurism kink

>>> guys can you tell i have a choso fantasy or do i need to write another five thousand word fic to prove it i'm sobbing and actually in love with him fr. it took me days to write this bc i was just too feral.

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: roommate choso, hung like a horse choso, virgin choso, voyeurism clearly, petnames, masturbation, cowgirl, implied multiple rounds, choso whimpers you're so welcome, choso smokes a blunt grow up >>> wc: 4.8k >>> event masterlist

this whole roommate ordeal seemed easy enough. you had a spare room in your condo, yuji had a spare brother that needed a place to stay after graduation. it worked out perfectly, as you weren’t too keen on having a rando move in. though the half-curse was little more than that, really. you had only come in contact with choso briefly, seeing him move through the halls of jujutsu tech in search of the very brother that recommended him to you. he was intimidating, tall and broad with a look of disinterest across his face every time you ran into him. yuji had told you that he wasn’t necessarily unfriendly, just unsure, so you were weary to approach him once he moved into the spare room. you didn’t want to overdo it, you would hate to make him uncomfortable with all these changes he was getting accustomed to. so for the first three months or so, you two would only exchange pleasantries and nod respectfully, two strangers sharing an address and lingering curious stares. then, one morning you offered to make him breakfast, and you two settled into a comfortable friendship after that.

Nowadays, nearly a year later, the living area was actually used and shared. you watched recommended shows together, introduced each other to your favorite movies, and oftentimes just sat in each other’s presence on the couch; on your phones, playing nintendo switch games, or passing choso’s best attempt at a blunt between you while shit talking your neighbors with your legs in his lap. you even encouraged him to invest in a real gaming setup, where he plays a host of different games for hours while you sit contently in the bean bag chair stationed nearby in his room, reading or crafting or just watching from time to time. the more comfortable he became, the more fun he was to be around. he was no longer shy to ask you to sit with him while he plays or to inquire about your latest book and his smiles and conversations flowed more freely.

he enjoys your presence. it’s easy to be around you. he wonders why. even with all the progress he had made with you, he was still terribly awkward around new people and his social battery was limited. he never got tired of hanging out with you though, in fact, he craves it always. yuji says that it’s because you’re pretty, which choso can’t disagree with, though his brother’s statement irritates him for no good reason.

he finds himself wondering if his brother knows you the way he does, silly things about you like which animal crossing character you would reincarnate as or the fact you hate grape flavored anything—it all tastes like cough syrup!--he can hear you say. no, he gets to see the real you, the one you reserve just for him. so yuji can think you’re pretty all he wants, but he’s the one who gets to see your breathtaking smiles in reaction to something he said.

“bro?! still there–or are you too busy being jealous?” yuji snickers, relishing in the match he made. he knew choso would wake up with a babe like you walking around.

“you’re a child. and a dick.” he huffs, aggravated by his spacey sibling’s acute sense of his feelings. “goodbye.” he taps to end their weekly gaming marathon facetime two hours short out of annoyance, confronted with the silence of his bedroom and his questioning thoughts about you. jealous? as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was. he couldn't even picture the thought of you being with someone else, try as he might. did that mean he wanted to be that person? your person? he’s so confused, but he knows even if he’s embarrassed he can talk to you about it. you could help him work through his feelings and come to a solution. even if the feelings were about you, he knows you would always be honest with him. he sighs, deciding to make his way to your room down the hall.

you two didn’t spend a lot of time apart now that the bond had been created, and you were more than alright with that routine, because on fridays, choso holed up in his room for five straight hours to facetime yuji and play video games giving you some much needed time to yourself. you always started with a long and intricate shower, doing all your different exfoliants and masks. then you’d touch up your nails and give yourself a total spa treatment, finishing up by putting on your cutest little panties and releasing some of the pent up sexual frustration for your roommate that you keep under lock and key for the same reasons you were hesitant to cross into friendship territory all those months ago: you don’t want to scare him away.

so you settle for your own small hands cupping your chest and pinching at your nipples, trying to picture him. It’s choso’s large and veiny hands that run down your sides and spread your legs instead of your own toying with your underwear. you can smell the versace eros cologne he wears wafting through your nose, almost able to hear his gravelly voice in your ear praising you for doing so good. it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to conjure the image of him sinking between your thighs, lust pooling in his violet eyes. you’re soaked already, feeling the fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt just at your active imagination. you peel them off, hissing as cold air blows across your middle, but your fingers quickly find the heat of your hole, gathering that natural lube to flick your clit with. your eyes are closed—whining helplessly already at the sensation you bring yourself with him in mind. it’s nowhere near the real deal, but the bliss is good enough to lull pants of his name from your mouth, body light as air.

choso doesn’t think anything of your closed door. you told him you keep it closed to let him have his space, not wanting him to feel like you’re watching or eavesdropping on him while he’s on the phone. especially as he got close enough to reach for your door handle, hearing you call his name. you sounded…strained? in all honesty he was worried. so he doesn’t hesitate to push the door open a bit, peeking to check. his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of you naked on your bed. you’re stunning. he’s seen pictures of other women—and yuji showed him a few websites—but your body was second to none. his hand flew to cover his immediate hard on, shocked you hadn’t noticed him yet. fuck, you are gorgeous, one hand squeezing at your breast, the other playing around in that squelching noise he hears between your legs. he fights the urge to moan aloud or announce his presence, and he’s ashamed of himself. he feels like he’s betraying your trust, but his dick keeps growing in his pants at the chants of his name spilling out of your lips. he watches as your legs jerk and your head falls back against your pillow, making him think you were almost done. he had to get out before you saw him or felt his unique energy so close to you. he’s panting as he shuts the door quietly, turning the knob just so it wouldn’t alert you.

his dick hurts as he makes it just one room down—the bathroom. perfect. he turns the shower on immediately, stripping his clothes off like they were on fire. he had set out to talk to you, to be completely honest about the thoughts he had been having, but seeing you like that did things to him words could not. he’s been horny before, of course, and dealt with that the way single human men do. but this—the desire coursing through his veins—this was different. so different. everything was clear now, he needed you. he stands with his back under the water, whimpering as his dick throbs to the mental image of your glistening pussy and blissed out face. he can’t help but close his fist around the his wide shaft, stuttering out a sigh in relief. he strokes himself to the same rhythm you moved your fingers, imagining how that pace would feel with your wet and warm cunt hugging him in instead of the rough surface of his hand. his other hand keeps him braced on the shower wall, steadying him through the searing heat the promises of your touch seem to be; to think that you were calling for him, thinking of him in the way he thinks of you now felt like a dream. he had to be hearing things, that’s the only excuse the man can summon. water beads down his biceps and chest, and it just makes his dirty deed all that much more so, fucking into his fist until his load is running down the side of the tub, the pearly beads getting swept away in the water and carried down the drain. he tosses his head back in the shower stream, his long black strands sticking to his face and neck as he tries to rinse away his shame.

that night, choso doesn’t come out of his room to watch a movie with you before bed. you pout, but try not to linger on it too long. maybe yuji took a lot out of him today, or they didn’t have a successful time on and he was moody. either way, you weren’t going to bother him. you hang out on the couch like usual with the hopes that he would emerge soon, but as your bedtime nears and everything remains still, you slink off to your room with a sour mood to end an otherwise normal day.

as the days pass, choso’s behavior gets weirder and weirder. it’s almost as if he’s completely reverted inside his shell he made when he moved in, only emerging to get food when he had hoped you weren’t around. the times in which he did inevitably run into you were dealt in nervous laughter and denials that anything was wrong with him. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was lying, hiding something from you even. you were slightly hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to talk to you, instead of going backwards and shutting you out. you wanted to wait it out, but as the days turned into a full week, you feared losing him altogether.

you stewed over the situation the entire time you were at work. you couldn’t even get anything accomplished because you were too preoccupied wondering what you had done to wound your connection. spending your days alone was maddening. a little over a year ago, you would have relished in the peace and quiet, but now it was unwelcome. you only wanted quiet if it was filled with the subtle sounds of pages turning or the buttons of a controller smashing or shared breathing during the climax of a show. this was haunting, and you knew you had to do something. you left work early, faking a stomach ache in order to get home and corner choso into relenting. no more miss nice roommate. you were tired of letting him be all weird and distant. so you walked in unceremoniously, not necessarily out to scare him. you shake your sandals off by the door and walk towards his room, noting that his door was actually open for once.

that was only because you weren’t supposed to be home for three and a half more hours, giving choso plenty of time to relive his dirty fantasies of you with the least amount of guilt possible, though he could barely look you in the eye these days. if you weren’t home, he could at least not worry about you catching him in his perverted acts, only dealing with the shame that flows in after he’s came for the millionth time to the image of your legs quivering and mouth parting in pleasure. he didn’t hear you sneak in–didn’t hear you shuffle down the hall to poke your head around the doorframe. he was dead to the outside world, his hips stuttering into his hand, thumb swiping the pre-cum that beaded there around his slit, stroking himself with whimpers of your name tumbling out, his eyes scrunched tight in concentration.

your jaw was on the floor, never in a million years imagining that he even knew how to touch himself like that, not to mention the prayers of your name on his tongue, mirroring the ones you make for him on fridays. he was massive, it had you covering your mouth in shock. even with his huge hand, it seemed like pumping himself was a tall task. you couldn’t imagine trying to do it yourself, you’re not even sure two hands would do the trick— you must have gasped aloud or something, because suddenly his head snaps toward where you stand in the doorway.

“y/n–you’re–” his dark eyes are wide, his lips parted in realization that you had really caught him jerking off and mewling your name like a helpless perv. as the guilt starts to creep in, the haze of need and desire clouds his mind. he never lets go of himself, all too aware of your lip between your teeth and your hardened nipples poking through your top—no, you shouldn’t be seeing this, you shouldn’t even be home yet! not to mention how ashamed you should be of your own roommate rutting into his hand.

“...i’m home.” you whisper back, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. despite the red blush spreading across his cheeks, he keeps fucking up into his hand. it’s salacious, and you can feel your body responding to the sight, unsurprisingly. you’ve been picturing him naked for months, and not even your lewd imagination gave him justice. every plane on his body was sculpted and defined, thick veins running down his arms and thighs and cock. he left his hair down, some of the strands tucked behind his ear, some of them hung over his brows and cheekbones. he gulped when he noticed your stare, your eyes locked on the thick cock in his hand, curved with an angry and needy tip.

“y/n, i’m so so sorr–” he scrambles to sit up, the heavy reality finally sinking in. he was awful, sick in the head, you were going to have him pack his shit immediately, and he’d have to tell all his friends why you had gotten rid of him.

“need some help?” you spit out, unable to tolerate the pounding in your chest and pussy. his eyes grow impossibly wider, blood rushing in his ears. did he understand you right? he couldn’t possibly.

“wh-what?” he sputtered, sitting up slightly to try and hide himself from view a bit, as if you hadn’t seen every bit of him already.

“i asked if you wanted my help. you were saying my name, weren’t you?” you tease gently, stepping further into his room, your hands innocently folded behind your back. now that you know your desire is shared, you felt confident enough to push your relationship further yet again. he nods hesitantly, watching you stalk over to the bed like a lioness about to pounce.

“i–yes, it’s not what you think. i know it looks–”

“like you were jacking off and thinking about me? is that not…what you were doing?” you hum, pausing by the foot of his bed. you look so cute, he has to believe you know what you’re doing, folding your arms under your voluptuous chest just to taunt him a bit more. you have him backed into a corner, and he either had to admit the truth or come up with a very clever lie. and he is not a gifted liar.

“i–yeah…” he looks away, feeling the shame weighing down on him now that you had confronted him with the undeniable truth.

you chuckle warmly. “i do the same thing, ‘cept I’m thinking of you.” you shrug, the smirk growing on your face as realization seeps into his. he didn’t misunderstand you that day or even earlier in this conversation. you want him too. he swallows thickly again, remembering the day that started all of this.

“i–i know, i saw you, last week.” he chokes out as you take your top off, revealing yourself to him. He’d noticed your lack of bra earlier, but didn’t expect to be blessed with the sight of your body again, especially as you bend at the hips to wiggle out of your pants. Your laughter surprises him again, like he had intentionally made a joke. but it was only because he had solved the mystery that led you to his room in the first place, and that would potentially resolve any secrets you had been keeping from one another.

“so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you scrunch your nose at him adorably as you crawl onto the bed, his eyes glued to the body that had him locked in his bedroom day and night. “oh choso, i wish you would have interrupted me…i surely woulda let you help me.” you purr, so close to him that he could reach out and touch you now, and he definitely thinks about just grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him, finally feeling that glistening pussy for himself—to hell with his imagination, but your voice interrupts his thoughts again.

“so, do you want me to help you, baby?” you glance from the hard length in his hands to his deep purple eyes, swirling with something you recognize very well to be deep desire.

“please–” he whimpered and let his hand fall away from his pelvis, looking to you like a pathetic boy getting his teenage dreams fulfilled. Your grin grows wide, and you lean closer to brush your hand across his toned abdomen. he lets out a pleased little grunt and his cock jumps at the simple touch

“you’ve never been with anyone, have you?” you asked, faces so close he can see every freckle and dimple and scar on your skin. he shakes his head. you peck the tip of his nose. he’s already shivering, the feeling of your body leaning over his was exhilarating. your kiss was so simple and sweet, but it stopped all the thoughts in his brain. he was just malleable now, ready to let you make him feel good, finally shifting from imagination to reality. “need you to talk to me, so i can know where you’re at, cho.”

“no, no..never.” he shakes his head again, eying you with excitement and nerves all at once. he wants to touch you, and you’ve already stripped naked and kissed him, so surely there was no going back now, so he reaches up and places his hands on your hips—so light like he was afraid to hurt you.

you grin at both his answer and his courageous touch, nodding your encouragement, “that’s fine, i’ll help you…just do what feels natural–you can go as hard as you want., and tell me if you want to stop.” your eyes blink at him sweet he realizes he would trust you with his life if you asked.

“okay.” he lets your words wash over him, nodding as he grips your hips a little tighter. he’s more than embraced his fate, his mouth watering a bit at the idea that you were in his bed and offering to make all his fantasies come true. you were expecting him to keep that deer in a headlights look, but when you rake your fingernails across his chest, you watch his eyes darken a bit more. “kiss me?”

choso looks so cute, you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. his eyebrow raised with innocence, but his eyes shrouded in arousal. you giggle softly and lean up, sliding your hands over his pecs and shoulders and into those dark locks calling your name. you tug, and he gasps softly. you take that opportunity to cover his parted lips with your own, his head falling back to accommodate you as you fully crawl into his lap. he melts, you feel and taste so impossibly good he’s concerned he may bust over the kiss. your tongue moves so expertly against his, twirling around and sucking on the muscle in a way he didn’t know people employed. then you’re sitting on his abs, and he can feel so much at once. his eyes blow wide in the kiss, and he has to pull away to gasp again and see what you’re doing to him.

you’re simply sitting, your pretty shining pussy rubbing against his core and his dick teasing the crack of your ass. that must be what’s driving him insane, the warmth and softness providing some but not enough friction. you wiggle your ass a bit to tease him, and he whimpers. the sound is so sweet and low you know you can’t handle playing with the shy little virgin much longer.

“i–is th–that sup’posed to f-feel that go–ngh, good?” he stammers, the hold on your hips bordering bruising. he doesn’t even realize, and you certainly don’t mind, so you only smile and nod down at him, reaching for his chin with your fingers. he makes you look so small without even trying, the broad expanse of his body, wide jaw and thick legs—not to mention the monstrous cock rocking against your behind, your own need soaking his happy trail to the skin beneath. you move his gaze from your sensual movements back to your sultry gaze. yuji was wrong. pretty was such a mild way to describe the woman on his lap. you were more a kin to a goddess, something not fully human like him.

“i was hoping to give you the full treatment, but i don’t think you’ll mind if i skip to the main event?” you bite your lip, your other hand scraping at his scalp a little bit. no, of course he didn’t mind. sometimes you were so silly. he nods fervently, remembering that he needed to find his voice, to not seem like such a coward when he wanted this so badly.

“no—please,” he whimpers again, feeling the drip of your liquid on him. it dawns on him then that you’re just as needy, and you still wanted him even though you’d have to teach him what to do. you didn’t seem worried, maybe it was easier than he thought. but all he knows is that his balls are starting to hurt and he had never felt more buzzed in his entire life, sensitive to every move you make. “i need you so bad, oh sh–”

you scoot back, lifting yourself up a little to align him with your entrance. his whimpers and begs were so fucking amazing, you wish you had it in you to milk it. you make the mental note to keep him begging when you show him what it feels like to have his dick sucked or whimpering when he eats your cunt for the first time. he’s so heavy in your hand, and you can’t even close your fist around him. it makes you shudder, knowing that you’re going to make him fit inside you no matter the stretch. his tip was so red and irritated, oozing pre. you swiped it over his head, humming in amusement as he jerks and whines at the feeling.

“you’re massive, d’you know that?” you pout, sinking down a few inches. he moans at first, feeling like his cock was fit into a perfect sleeve. it’s unreal, the heat he feels in his gut as you rock further down on him, whining at how huge he was. he watches the pained faces you make halfway down, the concern clear on his face. he didn’t know he was that big—he hadn’t really been comparing, but if it was hurting you, he wondered what he could do. he remembers watching you play with that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs, using your own slick to glide around. he thinks he could replicate that, so he sticks his fingers in his mouth, spitting a bit to make sure they were just as wet as you were. you take more of him, almost to his base all while panting and bracing yourself on his chest with your eyes screwed shut. he reaches toward you, swiping his fingers around the place he watched you toy with. you gasp out and sit all the way down, the noises you make as he touches you make his eyes widen again.

“god—i’m so full, baby.” you nod, your hips moving forward automatically, searching for more of that searing feeling he brings to your clit. he surprises you, moving his digits in slow circles as you get accustomed to his size. he chokes slightly when you squeeze him, his eyes zeroed in on your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, feeling your nails dig into his chest as your hips move faster now, any other words he had wanted to say sucked from his brain like he had no thoughts at all, nothing other than that vice-grip of a pussy you have locked around him, bouncing softly and leaving little half-moons in his skin.

“mhm, just had to stretch a bit t’fit you, are you alright?” you grin as you ask, knowing he would struggle to respond—in the best way possible. he nods eagerly, eyes flickering from where you swallow him up to your soft face of bliss.

“are you kidding? i’m—” you rock on him a bit faster, the feeling of wet and choking walls rubbing every possible spot had him sputtering, unable to speak. he’s only able to watch you run a hand through your mane, keeping it out of your face and away from your bouncing tits. he’s in heaven. being with a woman, no, being with you, was as all the eternal bliss he cared to know.

his hips start to move, the hold he has on your hips trailing up to the curves of your waist to better hold you down. he didn’t realize how much more intense he would make this feel for the both of you, grunts and whines spilling from his lips as you begin to cry out and yell. it’s heavenly, the way you let him drive into you, leaning forward with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging his head towards your chest. he contains his pathetic pants by sucking your nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it, mind so drunk and hazy he can only be driven by his primal instincts, flat footed on the bed to plow into you from below.

it’s so perfect. you scream his name way better than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t mind to bear the scratch marks of your passion. you keep squeezing around him, and it drives him crazy.

“i–i love when you do that—clenching down on me like that, fuck.” He grunts, slowly getting his knees under him while you sloppily keep the pace. he uses the leverage to ease you to your back, though you don’t have the luxury of pillows or a headboard, only the mattress beneath you as choso realizes this positioning lets him piston his hips without you having to do any work at all. you’re wailing, nodding to keep him from worrying about you as you continuously claw at his back and shoulders.

“choso baby—” you whine in such a way, he knows he’s going to bust in seconds. “you’re gonna make me cum, please–doin’ so good, ngh—ack!” you cry, legs tightening around his waist as he feels a significant increase of your fluids. feeling and watching you cum by his doing was the nail in the coffin—the way your face screwed up in pure pleasure brought him his own, his pelvis stilling against the mounds of your backside, cock twitching against your womb before your vision is blurry, and all you feel is warmth seeping out of you. his load leaked out around him inside you, his cock still pulsating with no signs of dying down.

he smiles at you a little shyly, his cheeks rosy and eyes hazy with the aftershocks of such a gripping orgasm. he watches your chest heave as you calm down, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading across your face as you look up at him.

“what do i do now? to take care of you?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the creases where your thighs meet your hips. you giggle and shake your head, knowing it would take multiple rounds for his erection to die down.

“i show you the full treatment now, baby.” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows.

choso found himself immersed in exploring himself and your body, discovering several new kinks to enjoy with his sweet little roommate turned lover.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #choso x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso smut #choso x voyeurism #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso

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janeyseymour · 2 months

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hiii!! i love your writing and i hope you’re doing well <3 i was hoping to request a melissa x reader with “causal” work crush between the two of them. reader is a very put together teacher during school hours but a trendy aesthetic person off campus. mel comes across reader at the grocery store and is astonished at the revealing alternative style and sexy tattoos. reader gets super nervous and shy once mel teasingly approaches. no one at work has ever seen her like this but especially not her crush melissa

oh wow, this one... nice. written as i procrastinate cleaning my house!

Personal and Professional

wc: ~2.4k

You grew up hearing from both of your parents that you should never mix the personal with the professional. So you compartmentalize. You’ve always done it. You kept school life away from home life when you could, and now you keep your work life away from your home life. That’s not to say that you aren’t friends with your coworkers at school. It’s just that it’s much easier to keep professional Y/N and personal Y/N separate.

And the personal and professional you are two entirely different people.

You see, at school, you’re ‘Miss Y/N’. You keep it all together. You’re buttoned up, you’re conservative in your clothing style, and you strive to maintain that aura of professionalism that you see coming off of people like Barbara Howard. You’re pretty damn good at it too. You’re kind, you allow your coworkers to see small bits of your home life (“Oh, I’ll probably just do some grocery shopping before laying on my couch for the entirety of the weekend… maybe I’ll go to the gym,” is your usual response when they ask what you’re doing over the weekend), and the teachers have all come to respect you once you settled into your position.

But once the school hours are over and you can let your hair down, both figuratively and metaphorically, you trade out your blouse and sweater or blazer for more form-fitting and revealing shirts, pants that aren’t slacks, and you change your flats to your doc martens that you’ve been rocking since the eleventh grade. You take out the clear stud and put in your nose ring, and exchange earrings different from the delicate hoops you wear to school. Your multiple tattoos show in your street clothes, and you love it.

You’re not entirely sure how your coworkers would feel if they knew that this was how you presented yourself outside of the school, but it doesn’t matter. They’re so used to seeing you all done up to teach that even if they did see you outside of school, they probably wouldn’t recognize you. You sure as hell wouldn’t go out of your way to say hello if you saw one of them outside of campus.

But then things start to change about six months into working at Abbott.

Shit. You have a thing for one of your coworkers- Melissa Schemmenti to be exact. It’s a very casual and silly thing the two of you have going on, really. She flirts with you, you flirt with her; it’s all in good fun. You know that you’ll never act on it though because you keep your many lives as far away from each other as possible, even going as far as grocery shopping a few streets over from where you know most of your coworkers go in order to not run into them. You’ve never had an issue with running into anyone outside of the school anyway- why would that change?

“What are your plans for the weekend, hot stuff?” Melissa flirts with you while you’re eating lunch. “And don’t give me your usual answer… you gotta have more of a life than what you lead on, miss mysterious.”

You roll your eyes. “You wish I was with you.”

She hums in lieu of an answer before asking you again, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Honestly?” you chuckle. “Probably some grocery shopping, I have a friend coming over tomorrow, and then Sunday is a day to grade and veg out on the couch while I catch up on some shitty reality tv.”

“Sounds riveting,” the redhead jokes.

“Well, what do you have going on?”

“Nothin’,” she grins. “I fully plan on staying in my Eagles sweatshirt and catching up on laundry and some chores- probably have some wine while I’m at it. Care to join me on Sunday after I go to church?” She’s never asked you if you wanted to hang out outside of work before, and it throws you for a loop. You nearly choke on your salad.

“Oi,” she huffs playfully. “I was just messin’. I don’t want to have to endure any of that shit reality tv in my house.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t want you to have to sit through that either.” The two of you finish up your lunches and head back to your classrooms to deal with your monsters for the rest of the Friday.

“See you Monday, babe,” Melissa winks at you as she closes the door to her classroom and locks it.

“Oh, counting down already, I see,” you roll your eyes. “See you Monday, babe.”

When you get home, you change out of your stuff work attire and into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You change out your jewelry for the things you prefer. You fully plan on laying on your couch with a bottle of wine on this lazy Friday night, but when you get home you realize that you finished off your favorite white last weekend. With a sigh, you go into your bedroom to change into some nicer street clothes- you would rather be caught dead than wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt out in public. At the front door, you pull on your docs, and then you’re off to the grocery store.

If you’re there now, you decide it’s best to just get your grocery shopping for the week out of the way. You grab a cart and start perusing the aisles like you usually do.

You have a few things in your cart when you find yourself in the aisle with the wines and beers, and you’re currently pouring over the selections. What would your friend want? Probably just some Yuengling. So you throw a case of that into your cart before turning to look for the wine that you love. Little do you know, Melissa is turning her cart down the aisle that you’re currently in, and she recognizes you almost immediately.

You look so starkly different than she’s used to seeing you. If she’s being honest, she’s a little thrown off with your outfit. She’s so used to seeing you in your work attire, your hair either in a neat, low bun or down. But here? This look is entirely different from what she was expecting you to be done up in outside of work. She of course knew that you wouldn’t always be dressed like a teacher, but wow. She was not expecting this. You’re in a pair of tighter, ripped black jeans, you have a tank top on, and your hair is thrown up into a stylish messy bun with a few pieces strategically pulled out to give off the appearance that it’s an effortless look (it is for you). Is that a tattoo on your shoulder that she sees? And a tattoo on your arm? How has she never noticed that before? You have a cartilage piercing, bold earrings for your first and second, and… is that a nose ring? She didn’t even know you had your nose pierced. If Melissa’s honest with herself, it only makes you that much more attractive.

You turn, satisfied with your decision, and pop the bottle into the top of your shopping cart. You make eye contact with the redhead that is practically drooling over the sight of you. You give her a shy wave, but you don’t dare to interact. Don’t mix the personal from the professional. The woman snaps out of her own trance and waves back with a curious look.

You continue down the aisles, and you think that you’re in the clear from Melissa- you acknowledged her, that’s all you had to do. She goes on her way too, but the two of you run into each other again during checkout.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she winks at you as she starts putting her groceries up on the conveyor belt. “Never pegged you as a beer girl.”

“Hey,” you say softly, shyly. “It- it’s actually for my friend.” That also throws Melissa for a loop. At school, you’re so confident, quick to make a remark. But now, you sound like you have something caught in your throat, and you nervously tuck one of the loose strands of hair behind your ear, as if that would make you more professional looking. “I’ve never seen you around here before?”

“I usually go to the one that everyone else goes to, but they were out of my wine, so…” she gestures to it before putting it up on the belt. “It was worth the extra ten minute drive though if it means I get to see you.” She winks at you with those emerald green eyes of her, but you don’t reciprocate. You nervously worry your lip between your teeth, as if you have no idea what to say.

Melissa understands your hesitation and shrugs. The two of you stand in line together awkwardly. She’s rung up, and as she leaves, you call a gentle, “Have a good weekend, see you Monday.”

She turns and blows a kiss your way, waving flirtatiously before leaving.

Your weekend is nice. Your friend comes over, you go out to the clubs, and you almost forget about the encounter that you had with the hot redheaded second grade teacher.

The small break from work is over all too soon, and you find yourself somewhat dragging yourself into Abbott on Monday, but duty calls. You’re back to wearing your lightly colored blouse and a sweater over top to cover the tattoo that you didn’t feel like putting makeup over today, you’re back in your dress pants and flats. You didn’t even bother to do your hair, just simply brushing it and letting it cascade over your shoulders instead.

You enter the staff lounge and it’s empty, as it always is. You’re always the first one in. Whoever comes next is always a mystery, but today, it’s Melissa Schemmenti. Of course it is. Without anyone else there to buffer, you know she is absolutely going to bring up your meeting on Friday night.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” the redhead says suavely. “Have a nice weekend?”

“Yeah, babe,” you shoot out. The coffee pot dings. “You want some?”

“You know I always do,” she sighs out as she makes a move for the cabinet with the mugs inside. She grabs hers before sauntering over to you. The second grade teacher hands you the mug before cozying up to you.

“For you,” you roll your eyes as your pour the scalding hot liquid into her cup.

“Thanks, babe,” she smirks and winks. “So… when were you goin’ to tell me about this little number?” she rests a gentle hand on your shoulder- the one with the tattoo.

“What do you mean?” you chuckle.

“That tattoo,” she licks her lips.

“I forget it’s there,” you roll your eyes. “Young Y/N mistakes.” Not true at all. You love that tattoo, and most of your street clothes show it off.

“It’s sexy,” she tells you lowly. “Kinda like the ear spike and the nose ring I had no idea you had.”

“I’m a different woman outside of school, babes,” you tell her, smirk evident as you start to fix your own coffee. “Didn’t realize I had to tell you about it all.”

“You don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ll find it all out myself… little miss alt girl.”

“In your dreams,” you fire out, and you get pretty close to her.

“Oh, every night,” she challenges you and moves even closer. At this point, the two of you are nose to nose.

And wow, it wouldn’t take much more for you to-

“Good morning!” Janine bursts in through the door, not knowing what she’s walking into.

You and Melissa couldn’t jump away from each other faster. The young, energetic teacher starts to ramble on all about her weekend, and your other colleagues start to make their way in. When it comes time to watch the news, Melissa settles herself in next you. Her hand finds its way to your shoulder, and she starts to trace the outline of you tattoo. Then, you feel the redhead’s hand make its way to your arm, where the other tattoo is that she saw. You didn’t know she saw that one too. She lets her fingers lazily trace around that one as well. All of your coworkers are too enamored with what’s happening on the screen to really notice, and Melissa’s green eyes are trained on the television as well. You could not be further from what’s happening on the screen. All you can think of is Melissa, and the things that she’s doing right now are driving you crazy.

Soon though, the kids will start to trickle in, and you know you have to get to your classroom. So you head out, a flirtatious smile and wink thrown the second grade teacher’s way before you close yourself into your room. You take a deep breath, and get ready for your day.

As you’re about to make your way out of your classroom, you hear heeled boots clinking along the linoleum floor, and you know those boots belong to the redhead that’s been on your mind all day.

“Hey, babe,” you says, back turned to the door, but you know it’s her. “Come to walk me out?”

The clicking gets louder, and before you can even think, Melissa has you pinned up against your desk. You can feel the corner of it digging into your back, and then you don’t because all you can feel are her lips on yours. Instinctively, you kiss her back. It’s better than you had been dreaming of. And then she pulls back, wipes away the lipstick she left smudged, wipes her own mouth to fix her own lip, and then winks at you.

“I’m done pretending that all this flirting we do is harmless,” she says once she’s righted herself. “You, me, dinner tonight at The Capital Grille. 6, sharp.”

You don’t know what else to do other than nod.

“And don’t come dressed in your teacher outfit,” she instructs. “I want the babe that you are… Ear spike, nose ring, tattoos out.”

With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way out of your room. As she’s making her way down the hall, you hear her call over her shoulder, “Don’t miss me too much!”

So much for not mixing the personal with the professional.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction

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trappolia · 12 days

Text

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ── dan heng x gn!reader x blade, former dan feng x gen!reader x yingxing, 2.4k

you dream of blood.

the golden ichor that seeps through the jagged cracks of an old, divine blade. the deep red that drips from your wounds as a cruel reminder of your mortality, an ever existing shadow that haunts you through all the ships you travel through.

you dream of love.

a golden hairpin that catches your eye while walking through the bustling streets of a marketplace. the red paint that smudges on a lover’s lips when you exchange kisses. strokes of black ink upon parchment, reading words more poetic than one can ever have the courage to say aloud.

it is dizzying, in the way all dreams are. you are sitting under the moon and sharing a drink with someone you consider your friend, family, lover, and the next you are driving your spear through his chest. there are no blades of grass on this ship, no grassy fields for you to hide in, and the tendrils that you feel swaying, rustling, in waves past your ankles, are the chains of the sins you bear as someone they call their beloved.

the crew of the astral express are a welcome distraction, kind and warm as they offer you their companionship in their own personal ways. you help march 7th pin up photos in her room, laughing as you reminisce over your past travels through silly selfies and scenic photos. you sit with himeko during breakfast over a cup of coffee (yours brewed by yourself rather than the gorgeous redhead, thank the aeons) and indulge in the peaceful silence, a sense of normality that the woman is more than happy to give you after all that you’ve been through. mr yang tells you stories of other universes, weaving the already existing threads of all the lives you’ve seen around you into something completely different yet the same— and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he lived a different life before all this.

but no matter what, you always find your way back to dan heng.

though you have your own assigned room, the simple arrangement of a flat pillows and a blanket on the floor of the archives is as much of a home to you as it is to dan heng. you’ve spent many a night in his room, poring over texts and books with him, more often than not passing out on his lap or in his sleeping area.

( “they come as a pair,” march 7th once told the trailblazer when they asked about the two of you. “himeko said that arrived on this ship together. whatever they went through in the past, they made it through because they had each other. but that’s just what i think.” )

it’s true, in a sense. what would you have done without dan heng, travelling through all those ships that always met the same end? you wonder if you would’ve lasted long enough for himeko to find you and bring you to the astral express.

probably not.

dan heng feels responsible for you. he doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. you once confessed your insecurities to him on a dark night, back when the two of you were still getting used to having a proper roof above your heads without fear of the ship getting attacked or waking up to security banging through the door.

( “what if they think i’m useless because i’m always clinging onto you?” you had asked him in a small, weak voice.

“…they don’t seem like those sort of people.”

“but what if?”

dan heng had looked at you, his expression tired and soft all at once as he sighed.

“then they’ll have a problem with me too.”

“why?”

“because,” he brushed his fingers over your gaunt cheekbones, worn from all that you’d been through. “i’m just like you. if something took you from my side, then i might as very well be useless to them.” )

there’s a known truth between the two of you, one that you never speak of; but you both know that it’s a fact. if you hadn’t been involved with dan heng — with him — you’d still be at home in the xianzhou alliance. you’d be blissfully oblivious to the convict on the loose, the exile who has returned home. you’d be living your life— a normal life.

but you aren't.

instead, you dream of him.

it should be impossible. bracers are not meant to be shared between a trio, and whatever gift you had been planning to share between the three of you was lost upon the exile. and yet, even without the ancient magic of the vidyadhara, he somehow manages to make his way into your dreams, haunting you like a ghost.

some nights, you dream of those arms that had always held you with such certainty, an impenetrable shield even when bloodied and battered. other nights, you dream of those hands driving a blade through dan heng’s heart, squeezing your throat until you take your last breath through a broken windpipe.

and every night, when you wake up from those dreams in dan heng’s arms, you feel that pain welling in your chest, settling for days as it finds comfort in its new home, made up of your aching lungs and your shattered heart. the days and nights blur together like this— haunted by a man still living and breathing, though not quite human, in the nighttime, and traversing through the worlds like a ghost searching for meaning in the daytime.

you don’t remember how it ended up like this. or do you? it all feels like a dream, all the details and images blurring together to be forgotten by morning. but it isn’t morning, and you can’t wake up from this reality. your head throbs. a concussion? who cares.

you can’t afford to let your guard down on this ship you once called home. you’re here for a reason, and though that reason is your top priority, you can’t afford to be caught either. the cloud knight that found you and dan heng — sushang — doesn’t seem to recognise either of you, and neither does the strange tradesman luocha, but you still can’t take any chances. panic blossoms in your gut, unsettling as you grip your weapon in your weak hands.

ah. that’s right. you’re fighting. reason grounds you with the fuzzy memory of your enemy standing before you— an ambush, because whatever forces are at work here clearly play just as dirty as the antimatter legion and that damned aeon they serve.

a fight you can’t lose, no matter how badly your head is throbbing right now, because you still have to find the others, have to save them from— from—

“ren,” your grip on your weapon loosens as the dust clears, revealing the man standing before you.

the enemy, your brain screams, though it can’t even make you move away. the word that slips through your lips is familiar, and yet not. your head hurts thinking of calling him by his true name, the name you called him before he turned into this.

blade, is what kafka called him.

ren, is what it means in your mother tongue, the language spoken in moonlit nights as the three of you sat under the stars, the silence broken only by a whisper of their names.

the name comes out as a quiet, pathetic croak, staring wide eyed at his figure. he’s frozen just as you are, his broken blade aimed straight at you with an arm that wavers just the slightest.

it’s like a domino effect; your walls crashing down the moment you see his mask slip for the smallest moment.

“yingxing!” your voice breaks as you call out to him again, almost desperately (it does not occur to you that you've let your memory slip, called out for a man long dead). your feet are moving from under you before you even realise it.

blade lunges forward, his sword drawn.

a desperate cry of your name wretches itself out of dan heng’s throat in a way that makes your heart ache, but it’s too late now. his warning comes only seconds after you’ve begun to run straight to danger, death, a threat to your life seemingly unseen to you as you surge forward like a blind lover, but you can see him.

the sharp angles of his face, the familiar bracer on his calloused hand, the searing heat of his vermilion eyes. he’s so close— close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, close enough to be reality rather than an illusion forged by a dream.

his blade is not what meets you. instead, it’s his hand. dan heng’s panicked screams is barely audible over your hammering heartbeat, your pulse quickening as blade’s calloused fingers wrap around your throat. he’s stronger than you — you would know even if he hasn’t been haunting your dreams all those years — and so he can easily snap you in half the second you’re in his clutches.

but then you’re pressed against him, back to his front. blade pulls you as close to him as humanly possible until you’re both flush, sharing the same, saccharine oxygen after years of breathing stale air through stone lungs. despite the sharp end of a sword held over your throat, you allow yourself to close your eyes, reveling in this single moment as if you’ve lived an eternity where the three of you had never once hurt each other. though he had an eternity without a single regard to how you’d hurt each other. in these stolen moments, you let yourself be stupid, oblivious, selfish, just to breathe properly for the first time in what feels like a millennium.

“let them go,” dan heng hisses, breaking you out of your reverie.

“no,” blade’s eyes narrow. there is no mocking in his expression, no sardonic smirk or cruel taunts. his walls are still up, none of that broken emotion that you’d only seen for a split moment when your eyes first met, but he lets himself drop the bravado. between the three of you, there is no such thing.

you whisper a soft cry of his name, making dan heng’s grip tighten on cloudpiercer as he moves to snatch you out of blade’s grip, but your former lover only growls.

“come any closer, and i’ll cut them.”

his voice is scratchy, worn like the calloused hands that are wrapped around your nape, squeezing almost painfully. a distant memory flashes in your mind, of these same calloused palms washing your back after a long day, cleaning the blood and grime.

these same hands could be stained with your blood, if he so wishes.

“you won’t,” dan heng hisses, and you hear something in him break like glass shattering on the floor. “you can’t.”

he sounds so sure of it, that this man will not slice that blade over your throat and take your life just as he had taken dan heng’s in so many eternities.

you’re reminded of the fact that no matter how many times the hourglass has turned over for dan heng, no matter how muddled his memories become, he once loved this man just as you did— once relished in his presence and touch as it lulled him back to sanity, masking the weight of all the sins the three of you had committed over the lifetimes your strings of fate had been entangled.

blade moves as if to cut your throat, to finally take the first life, the first step in the nth round of this cycle of violence, but his sword only manages to press down just the slightest against the skin of your neck before he stops himself. his hand — the one adorned by that damned bracer — shakes as he glares at dan heng with a look that can kill.

“fuck,” blade mutters under his breath. the word is not meant for you, but you hear anyway. blade pulls back from you roughly, and a barely audible whimper tears out of your throat when he suddenly pushes you forward and into dan heng’s arms.

dan heng’s eyes widen, clearly just as surprised as you when blade relinquishes his hold on you. he catches you with unsteady arms, trying to keep cloudpiercer levelled at blade as if the man will suddenly lunge forward and take him from you again.

blade stares at the two of you for a moment, watching as dan heng clutches you to his chest like you’ll disappear if he let go, as you hold a palm to your neck where the thinnest line of red bleeds through. his eyes narrow, and the only other indication of emotion in his face is the slightest downturn of his lips.

“i’ll be back,” blade says, and then there’s that cruel smile on his face again, a taunting glint in his eye as he looks at dan heng. “i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?”

dan heng growls, his grip tightening on cloudpiercer, “you damned—!”

but then blade’s already making his exit, leaping off the platform in a manner that gives you deja vu.

( a memory flashes in your mind, the image of him jumping off your balcony as jing yuan knocked on your bedroom door to make sure you were still asleep while dan feng dove under your bed for cover, a mundane moment of peace and carefreeness almost forgotten from where you had pushed it deep into crevices of your mind. )

i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?

after a breathless moment that seems to drag out for an eternity, dan heng’s arms finally uncurl from your frame, his eyes tracing your figure to make sure you’re unharmed. his eyes drag over the thin cut across your neck in an adagio, his breath hitching as he sees you bleeding the same colour of blade’s eyes.

“he didn’t kill me,” you breathe out. you don’t know why it’s only settling now. the relief is clear in your tone, but it’s obvious from the violent tremor of your hands that it’s only to mask your own uncertainty. "he didn't kill me."

dan heng is quiet. you’re too scared to look at him, at the expression on his face. you just stare at your shaking hands, and watch as he rests his palm over your own to soothe the tremors.

“he always had a soft spot for you,” dan heng whispers, something breaking in the tenor of his voice.

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avocado-writing · 8 months

Note

Poly aziracrow based on 2x04, where Crowley and R react to Aziraphale during this scene👀

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM2KFemoQ/

notes: yes. this isn’t the first time I’ve had a request about his voice in this scene. and I will NEVER get tired of them ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: M (smut at the end)

tags: the light, the dark, and the space in between-verse; references to ptsd; slightly Dom!Aziraphale

You hate this bloody war.

You’ve been part of a few, and all of them have left their scars on you. In you, buried in your soul. You remember your time in those trenches barely thirty years ago and bile claws at your throat.

No. Don’t think about that. Concentrate on this. Concentrate on this horrid little demon who’s threatening the two people you love. Hands behind you, you finger a decorative paperweight, wondering if minions from hell are susceptible to being thwacked over the back of the head.

He finishes his little tirade and tries to read Aziraphale’s name from a book (you’re amazed that the cretin is literate). But his demonic lips can’t make heads nor tails of the syllables.

“Azil-pha-pha-la-luh—”

Aziraphale’s brow furrows just slightly, lips purse.

“Aziraphale.”

It’s not often you see your angel reach the end of his tether. He is a holy being after all; the pinnacle of patience, epitome of virtue. But sometimes, when something grinds his gears just right, that voice will come out.

It does something to you and Crowley both, and the two of you exchange a glance across the room. This will be explored later.

The demon, irritated, snaps his little book shut, then does a double take as his gaze passes over you. He didn’t even notice you were here. You try to look the picture of innocence as you ready the paperweight, thinking about the best way to swing a bludgeoning weapon when he has that ridiculous hair.

“And you? What’s going on with you, why are you here?” He steps forward and takes a deep sniff. “You don’t smell divine.”

“Oh god, don’t bloody smell me!” you hiss, planting your hand on his chest and shoving him backwards. Aziraphale and Crowley move towards you to intervene if needed, but you wave them off.

“Don’t bother with him, nightingale,” Crowley sighs, voice unbothered and bored, “he’s not worth your effort.”

You turn to the mirror in the dressing room instead and focus on smoothing out your clothes, ignoring the foul little gremlin until Crowley and Aziraphale sort him out. Which they do, inevitably, because they’re very clever and wonderful. The three of you head back to the bookshop for a very necessary glass of wine, and within the hour you’re all piled on the sofa, slightly blotted and very glad for each other’s company after a rough day.

You and Crowley are either side of Aziraphale, each with a leg hooked over one of his plush thighs. You’re doing that thing they love where you compliment them about how smart they both are, and they get all smug and silly (and you love it); but halfway through you catch Crowley’s eye behind those dark little glasses and something shifts subtly.

“You know, angel, you really gave that lapdog a dressing down earlier.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Aziraphale says, but he’s all puffed up like he gets when he’s flattered. Crowley runs a finger up the seam of his trouser leg, gently, slowly.

“And you know what really sealed the deal? That voice you used on him,” you continue. “There was something quite dominant about it. Sexy.”

You snake your hand up his chest. Finally he cottons on.

“Oh.”

“I think we both just wondered what it might take to get you to use it again.”

Aziraphale takes a final sip of his wine before carefully placing the glass on the table. He sits back, looking between the two of you, and there’s no missing the glint in his eye.

“If you wanted me to tell you what to do,” he says lowly,

and you shiver, “you need only ask. I’m sure I’ll do it if you both behave.”

Crowley shifts. You can see the effect Aziraphale’s had on him: the tightening of his trousers, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows.

“So. Will you behave?”

“Yes,” you and Crowley both whisper at once, voices thin and needy.

Aziraphale smiles.

“Then I think you’re both wearing far too many clothes.”

Your clothes end up a muddled pile on the floor, and between the two of you, Aziraphale doesn’t leave the couch for the rest of the evening. He has you ride his thigh while Crowley swallows him down his pretty little throat, whispering his praises to both of you in that delicious voice.

“Look at you both. Being so good for me. I love you both so much, my darlings.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, face burning with desire. He has Crowley fuck you over the arm of the couch as he watches the show, palming himself through his trousers, telling you where to touch each other. You’re happy to be his puppet, his plaything, anything.

So long as he keeps talking. -

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster

#crowley x reader x aziraphale #ineffable husbands x reader #good omens x reader #david tennant x reader #michael sheen x reader #Request #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

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randomhealer · 2 months

Text

ℬ𝓁𝓊ℯ 𝒲ℯ𝒷

warnings: Obsessive behaviors, yandere characters, GN reader, murder half described, not reviewed, Tumblr wasn't accepting my post since 3am so it changed it itself, theory for who owns the last sentence

♡₊˚ 🕸・₊✧

You don't know how lucky you are to have good friends...

Kamisato Ayato, your long time friend, with a calm and relaxed facade, your friend who helped you stop the bullies who were messing with you, honestly you were happy when all the torment ended but where did the boys who messed with you go? Ayato says they all got detention from school...

Kamisato ayato...for you, a kind, hard-working, intelligent boy. Kamisato ayato...a manipulator... a sweet friendship with every step forged and meticulously planned like a piece for a treat. whispers say that he is the owner of a powerful faction and that his influence extended far beyond the city limits, he was a shadow that no bad soul wanted to cross, two-face, having him as an enemy was worse than having the devil. ..such whispers that soon disappeared from the world soon after saying such rumors around...

Sunday... a boy from a very well-known and important family, exuded an air of elegance and sophistication that belied his true nature. You never thought you would catch the attention of someone so important, but here he is...always bumping into you and talking to you at school.

Little do you know, oh poor innocent soul falling into the web of two dangerous demons, the bright blue web calling you to fall and drown in your own innocence.

both finding themselves in a sick love for you, something silly for them...it's not obsession, it's love...pure love over an innocent and clean soul, both having knowledge of each other, knowing your every step, shadows you They spy on your house, every day both families have eyes for you. and he has eyes for his friends and family too...

From lavish gifts to whispered promises of eternal love, they've done everything to win the reader's heart without having to break their facade.

a chance. while you have your freedom, your sanity, your innocence and your legs intact... You can choose between them, the choice is yours, but remember any step you take has a big consequence... you are walking on glass here.

Ayato's hand squeezed yours a little, his smile that could have been genuine before disappeared just for a fraction of a second as he watched you exchange kindness with Sunday, his gaze meeting Sunday's who smiled gracefully as he held your hand a little. little more, he looked from beneath his eyelashes with a feeling of hatred, disgust and mockery at Ayato.

while looks mix with hatred and jealousy creating thoughts about killing the other between the two men and you are oblivious to everything as you mumble some things to Sunday, who looks at you with a smile and waves. Of course, he listens to your every word despite his thought being that only Ayato would disappear from his sight...

Cute moments, sure... Ayato sharing his drink with you, Ayato giving you a light kiss on the forehead for being able to do all his math homework, Sunday buying you expensive things, Sunday letting you play with his hair...

but you're not stuck with just two people, you have more friends and a free life to live...right? bad choice...

16/04... A body was discovered, this morning three people were found dead in a state of advanced decomposition...The victims were...

These weren't the guys who bullied you?

...26/04... a body was found today in a river in an abandoned park, a couple was walking when they saw a hand floating in the small lake...

This...wasn't this the guy you met a few weeks ago at the cafe? he had given you his number after he spilled coffee on you...

03/05... a body of a teenager was found today near the... ...the cause of death has not been found yet, but the body was dismembered and appeared to have signs of torture... we ask all citizens in the area to be careful and Don't go out late at night...

This... was the guy in the class next to yours who you were going to meet in a few days...

...

You don't know what's going on...a serial killer on the loose...? or just a big coincidence of deaths? You're getting scared to even go home alone...

a sweet and familiar voice breaks your thoughts as you walk, you stop walking as you hear the footsteps reach you and a voice whisper sweetly "my dear...you shouldn't keep coming back alone, didn't you hear what's happening? let me accompany you to your home."

I've been trying to post this since 3 am and Tumblr won't let me??? I haven't even been to Penacony yet lol

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #hsr x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #honkai star rail Sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x female reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

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happy74827 · 6 months

Text

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

162 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 6 months

Note

I DID SEE NEUVILETTES SAD FACE… they are making it so easy for us

also I am CERTAIN Father could handle two brats at once, just as well as mr neuvillette could. both of those thoughts make me feel INSANE. I don’t know what I like more, two unruly brats being put in place or… (bear with me, I just woke up and how do words) furina, the brat of brats, being made to show some appreciation and care and service to her loyal and long suffering little handmaiden, who is very good at following orders but has a hard time relaxing and letting others take care of her. smthin abt a dom handling two different types of sub at the same time, playing off of each other, just… iujghgffghyfg

— dinner guest

Oh, dinner guest anon

I love that idea. Like actually

I’m envisioning something that looks and feels outwardly soft, but with a hard underline just below the surface. The way we’ve seen Arlecchino speak and behave so far has been like that; very well mannered, even cordial, with a razors edge to it that adds a certain weight to her actions. I see her domination being both subtle and heavy handed at the same time. Something like …

“Isn’t it interesting, Lady Furina, that you have the privilege of a life of luxury and indulgence while your people are forced to make do with whatever they can eke out for themselves? They cannot lay claim to the same lavish comforts you enjoy on a daily basis,” Arlecchino drags her pointed gaze to the nervous handmaid standing just behind the Hydro Archon. “Does that seem fair to you?”

It takes you a beat to realize she’d asked that question of you and not your lady. Eyes going round, you look to Furina for guidance just as she turns on the chaise lounge to peer back at you as well. Twin expressions of surprise and confusion, and maybe just a little bit of fear are exchanged before she forces out a thin, tittering laugh.

“Oh, don’t be silly! Of course I treat my loyal attendants to many of the same indulgences I myself enjoy. Why, just the other day we had a tea party together, didn’t we? I even made sure we had the most exquisite cake to share between ourselves to mark the occasion and - -“

“Is that all it takes?” Arlecchino cuts across her, sharp as a knife. “A little bit of cake to sweeten the deal of servitude? Is this truly the only way you know how to show appreciation to others, Lady Furina?”

The Archon hesitates at that.

You anxiously shift behind her, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Oh, how you wished Monsieur Neuvillette had been able to attend this appointment with the Snezhnayan diplomat. It was resoundingly obvious that you were in over your head and woefully ill prepared to handle it by yourself.

“I — I’m not sure what you mean,” Furina finally manages to squeak out, visibly fidgeting now. “What else would you have me do if not share my luxuries with those who have earned it? I am not a cruel or unjust god, I’ll have you know!”

Arlecchino puts her head to one side as if she’d just heard something rather interesting but her expression doesn’t change or give anything away. “You’re right. Neither of those words describe you, do they? I think what I would call it is selfish.”

Furina jolts as if she’d been physically struck, and you quickly step forward to intervene.

“Lady Arlecchino, please cease this at once! My lady does not deserve to - -“

The Knave stops you short with a slicing look that makes your breath catch.

“Oh, but she does. Even as the ruler of this nation does that really give her the right to ignore the cries and needs of the people? You, for example,”

Sedately, Arlecchino uncrosses her legs and stands.

You shake at her casual approach, those wicked heels near silent on the plush carpet laid out under the tea table as she steps around it. She comes close enough for you to feel the body heat coming off her and it makes you loose a small gasp when the taller woman brushes around you. A clawed hand finds your arm, horrible and monstrous in the way it softly smooths up to your shoulder and then across your collar. You think to pull away. To run and find Monsieur Neuvillette so he can take care of this problem which you are so clearly unqualified to do, but your feet seem to be frozen to the spot.

Without a word, Arlecchino presses herself against your back, hard and unrelenting, at the same time her fingers close tight around your breast. You gasp, and the sound is echoed by the Hydro Archon watching on from the lounge in fascinated silence.

“You, such a lovely little pet,” She croons into your ear, all silk and jagged edges that would cut you if you weren’t careful. “Surely there is more you want from life than to serve and eat cake? Wouldn’t it be nice if Lady Furina showed you some of the same consideration you give her all the time? I certainly hope you don’t think that you’re undeserving of even the most basic respect …”

“… Lady Arlecchino, please.”

“Call me Father.” She gives your tit a slow, savory squeeze that stops just short of pain. “I’m more accustomed to being referred to like that anyway, but I can see that my guidance is needed even here in the courts of Fontaine as it is anywhere else.”

Finally stirring out of her stupor, Furina starts to stand. “Now hold on a minute here! I’d kindly ask you to refrain from touching my - - eeek!“

She falls back with a rather inelegant squawk of surprise when Arlecchino shoves her back down. You draw a sharp inhale, thinking you’ll scream for help, but before you can follow through on it she roughly spins you around and tosses you across the lounge next to your lady. Terror makes it difficult to breathe as you blindly reach over to grasp Furina’s trembling hand, and the two of you huddle there together on the lush cushions when Arlecchino comes to loom over you both.

“How cute. Loyal to your god even now, even after everything I’ve said. No matter, though.” Drawing a perfectly calm breath, she bends at the waist and reaches for you. Two sets of frightened whimpers rise up on the couch but, to your gaping surprise, all she does is brush your rumpled skirt higher. “I’m going to give you and Lady Furina here a little lesson in showing one’s appreciation, and I do hope you’ll pay attention. There is so much more she could be doing for you in exchange for that loyalty she speaks so highly of.”

Beside you, Furina offers up a threadbare laugh. “Is this really necessary, miss, uh, Knave? I - I mean, this seems a bit … inappropriate.”

You couldn’t have agreed more, especially when she gets your skirt hiked up enough to expose your panties to the room. Your face burns in shame and embarrassment alike, but Arlecchino’s lack of concern is obvious. Slipping those long, sharp nails into the waistband, she starts to tug your underwear down your thighs.

“W - wait —“

“Do not fret, little maid. No harm will come to you or your precious god, I give you my word on that. This is but an exercise in humility and penance.”

Ignoring the way you twist and try to squeeze your thighs together, she gets your panties pulled down around your ankles where she stops long enough to pull one foot through. She doesn’t bother with the other, however, and just leaves your underwear dangling there as she then reaches for Furina.

Her fingers clutch your hand tight enough to hurt but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when Arlecchino grabs her by the back of the hair and drags her off the couch. The Archon yelps and sputters as she’s forced to her feet only for the taller woman to shove her down on the floor in the next moment.

“Ow! Please wait, I don’t understand - -“

“And that’s the heart of the problem, isn’t it?” Arlecchino purrs, twisting the handful of hair she’s gripping to make Furina let out a strangled shriek. It’s not enough to alert anyone though. You know you should be screaming at the top of your lungs but you can’t seem to pull in enough air to accomplish that, and you just stare up at her in petrified disbelief. “I’m going to teach you a much more appropriate method of giving your thanks to those who serve you so diligently. You want to be a good Archon, don’t you?”

Furina sucks in a wet, faltering gasp. “Yes, of course I do, but …”

“Then allow me to show you how best you can serve your people.”

Viciously, Arlecchino shoves her face between your legs, and you nearly jolt right up off the couch. Furina wails and struggles, but The Knave is as demanding as she is unrelenting. She forces her warbling mouth right up against your bare cunt, making you lurch at the sensation. Your legs frantically kick out as you try to shove yourself as far into the backrest as you can go, trying to escape, but Arlecchino just grabs you by the hair with her unoccupied hand. The pain that tears through your scalp is immediate and debilitating, and all you can do is seethe while she holds the two of you there as if without any effort at all to show for it.

“Now, Lady Furina,” She intones over the chorus of breathless gasps and whining mewls. “I want you to put that mouth of yours to good use. Show her just how much you really appreciate all her hard work.”

The shuddering Archon keens a faltering sound, and the resulting puff of hot hair on your cunt has you shaking like a leaf. You sway, unsteady and reeling, but Arlecchino’s hold on you is as good as iron. It must be the same for Furina because she hesitantly mouths at you in some parody of a kiss, evidently not seeing that she had any other choice but to comply. It’s not good enough for the other woman though and she meanly grinds her face down into your pussy, practically suffocating her in the process.

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and open your mouth. Use your tongue.”

You shoot Arlecchino a tearful look, but all of her attention is on the other woman kneeling between your thighs. It’s clear she was just using you as a prop to further humiliate and debase Furina, and she didn’t actually care about you or any pleasure you might derive from this. It was just a means to an end, and you hiss when you feel a hesitant tongue slip out to nudge at you.

Noising a muffled sound that echoes your own little squeak, Furina shyly licks over your soft creases and folds without any real intent behind it. You feel as equally humiliated by this as she does but you still shudder when she accidentally brushes your clit. Arlecchino only clicks her tongue though, using her hold on Furina’s hair to forcefully guide and drag her mouth back and forth over the apex of your slit.

“Like this. You want her to feel good, don’t you? I wouldn’t have expected you to not even know this much …”

You finally manage to pull in a halting, paper thin breath. “Lady Arle — Father, please stop this at once. There is no justification for treating Lady Furina this way … if the honorable Iudex learns of this - -“

“Oh?” Her unsettling gaze at last comes up to fix on you again. “Are you going to tell him, little maid? You don’t look like you’d have the courage, but perhaps I underestimated you.”

A blubbering whimper rips out of your throat when she leans over you, getting close to your face while Furina heaves against your cunt. Trying to lean away from her just gets your hair pulled again, and Arlecchino tugs you right back around to look at her.

“I asked you a question. Is it not customary to give an answer when someone is speaking to you? I’ll ask again: are you going to inform the Chief Justice of what took place here today?”

You screw your eyes shut. The threat in her voice was not near subtle enough for you to miss it, and you were under no illusion of guaranteed safety just because of your close proximity to the Archon of Fontaine. “N - … no, Father. I won’t tell him.”

“That’s what I thought.” Retreating back into her own space, Arlecchino sends a slow look of consideration over Furina who’s nose is so deeply buried in your pudgy mound that all you can see of her are her pretty mismatched eyes. They’re big and fearful, no doubt mirroring yours, and she issues a soft, muffled yelp at suddenly having The Knave’s attention on her again. “And you, Lady Furina … will you go running to your precious Iudex after I’m finished with you here?”

She hesitates, furiously trying to blink away the glisten of moisture filming her eyes as she pulls in a thickly labored breath. A muffled noise that might have been a ‘no’ rises between your legs, making you twitch only to full on shudder just a heartbeat later when she shakes her head as well.

Evidently pleased, Arlecchino eases up her hold on you before letting her hand slip away entirely. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Then what I want the two of you to do is relax. Just enjoy yourselves for a little while. I’d say both of you have earned your respective roles here.”

She releases Furina too, much to your reeling surprise, but both of you are much too frightened to move. The usually boisterous and flamboyant Archon obediently stays kneeling on the floor while the unnervingly collected woman steps around the lounge to loom over you from behind. Your skin crawls at her nearly palpable presence at your back. So heavy and oppressive it’s all you can do just to keep breathing when she casually reaches over your shoulders to smooth her hands down the front of your uniform.

“I’ll be here to instruct you the whole time and ensure each of you does as she is supposed to. As long as you remember your place I won’t have any reason to correct you.” She sighs, almost distant and dreamy, and you numbly peer down at yourself to watch those horrible hands drag over your breasts.

Abruptly, Arlecchino pinches the front of your shirt and pops it open with a sharp tug. You jerk slightly at the force, mewling softly when buttons go flying to clatter across the marble floor some yards away. She sets her sights on your brassier next and the way she tears into it is almost violent, cotton digging into you mercilessly as she shreds it to pieces. A fresh surge of withering shame has your cheeks burning hot when your bare tits hit the air and humiliatingly stiffened nipples cut up off your body in attention seeking points. You aren’t the least bit surprised when Arlecchino latches onto them with thumb and forefinger, rather indelicately pinching the tightly coiled buds, but it still startles a wounded sound out of you all the same.

“Now,” She intones, ignoring your hissed pleas in favor of looking down at Furina’s teary eyed face. “You’d better get to work, God of Justice. This little one seems so sensitive and tender … you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

With a quiet sniffle, she hesitantly opens her mouth a bit more and drags her wet tongue through your cunt purposefully now. She seemed about as ready to have this done and over with as you were, and you fitfully arch when she finds your clit. Settling in now that she’s located the spot that makes you twitch, Furina nuzzles her face into you while she submissively laps at the sensitive nerve cluster. Between that and Arlecchino’s demanding ministrations on your aching teats, it doesn’t take long to have you gasping in reluctant pleasure and actively hating your body for turning on you so quickly. So readily.

You almost couldn’t believe how unbearably wet you were getting from this …

The Knave is nothing but pleased though, and she hums a satisfied sound as she gives your nipples a pointed tug to leave you keening. “Isn’t this a lovely sight to see. You look rather good on your knees, Lady Furina … I do hope you’re enjoying the taste of your little handmaid. The next time you feel so inclined to invite me to one of your gracious tea parties I simply must remember to bring some of my favorite toys for us to play with. In fact, I believe I already have one in mind for the two of you.”

⭐️

#arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #self insert bullshit #something short and silly

105 notes · View notes

m00nsbaby · 9 months

Text

Glitter & crimson.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Next part.

Tags - warnings. College AU, no mentions of Jake/Steven, suggestive but not smut, cheating.

For my Pedrito Pascal / Oscar Isaac girlies I’m so sorry but Joel is indeed based on Joel Miller pre-outbreak lol.

Word count. 2.1k

Summary. "Marc is clever. One word I wouldn't like to use is manipulative, but I wouldn't be lying; he knows exactly when and how to do things.”

He knows Joel is watching, that one misplaced look and the false confidence he puts in him will be gone, so he carefully chooses his words and makes everyone else believe he would never cross the line with you.

You seemed to be in denial of the obvious, because above all the bad that could be behind that puppy face, there was the fact that he was your best friend, and you loved him, no matter if he was a good or bad person.

A talent he didn't know he had until he met your boyfriend was that of acting. Choosing which mask to wear on each occasion to his advantage.

When Joel was with you, he always kept his distance. After greeting you with a hug, you wouldn't feel Marc's hands on you again until the moment he was about to leave, giving you the most insipid hug he could manage as a way to say ‘goodbye’.

When you were alone, the story was completely different, and both, like two peas in a pod from the first time you exchanged words, spent time together as if you needed each other to breathe.

Though, for Marc, that's exactly how it felt.

The fact that Joel was older than you didn't help. Not so much older that your relationship would be something weird, rather enough for him to have slightly more adult concerns like work and taxes while you were still suffocated by university worries.

You saw each other maybe two or three times a week, but neither of you minded. (Marc didn't mind either; the farther apart he was, the better.)

"The couple of the century." Applause greeted you as both joined the party. You rolled your eyes, knowing they were just teasing, Marc, on the other hand, pretended to bow with one hand while the other rested on your lower back.

Apart from your group of friends, there were at least ten more people, nothing too wild. More like a typical party for young adults, students with enough budget to survive the next two weeks.

"Do you want something to drink?" Amidst the music and noise of the crowd, Marc had to lean in close to whisper in your ear.

His hand never left your body.

"I’ll have whatever you have." You smiled, leaning in enough for him to hear you.

You felt the stares of others fixed on you. Even at this point in your lives, you were not exempt from gossip.

And it seemed that you both were determined to feed the rumors; you, unconsciously, and Marc, enjoying pushing the narrative that you were an adorable couple without a care in the world about a guy in his 30s with a stupid job at a construction company.

When Marc returned with your drink, he sat next to you on the couch, tapped your glass before taking a sip of his, and his free hand rested on your thigh, specifically on the part where your dress didn't cover your skin.

You were used to it. To him. To his hands.

"And when will you make it official?" Someone asked, breaking the moment of intimacy between you both.

"Make what official?"

"Our thing, silly," Marc replied with a teasing smile on his lips.

"But we're not..."

"Soon," he interrupted, this time looking at the girl who had asked, someone from the classroom, one of those who said out loud how much they wanted 'a Marc in their life.'

You rolled your eyes, smiling, and quietly sipped from your glass.

You didn't question it. Little did you know that Marc took every opportunity to make you look like his to the eyes of others.

Gradually, the party started to take shape, you felt more and more crowded among the people, and the volume of the music began to rise until you couldn't continue chatting.

"Let's dance." You nodded immediately as the sofa began to fill up with strangers, and you let Marc pull your hands to get up.

"I can't stand this dress anymore." You said, adjusting the hem of it with your fingers.

"I'll help you take it off later." his lips brushed your ear as the number of people on the impromptu dance floor forced you to bump your bodies together.

"Idiot," you said, laughing, while your hands held his, and your hips began to follow the rhythm of the music slowly.

This was Marc's favorite part, even though he always ended up struggling with his tight pants for reasons beyond his control.

"Is tonight still on?" He whispered when he had you close. You were facing away from him, and your hips continued moving against your best friend's, his hands slowly traveling up and down your waist.

"When have I canceled a sleepover?" You raised your voice, looking over your shoulder at him.

Poor Marc was about to have an orgasm in the middle of his university friends, but could anyone blame him? Your body rubbed against him in that short, tight dress.

He mentally thanked the loud music for silencing his moans every time you moved to the perfect rhythm.

"I-I just wanted to be sure."

"Are you tired?" Your movements slowly stopped as you planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're sweating."

"I'm hot." It came from his throat as if someone were strangling him. He even cleared his throat. "Very."

"Let's have a drink and come back." You gave him a little push to make way for you, and he walked behind you, one hand on your hip as an excuse not to lose you among the crowd.

A sigh of relief escaped both of you when you entered the kitchen, closing the door behind you. There was no one else, and the music felt noticeably quieter.

"What do you want? I'll treat you," you joked as you looked at the grouped bottles of alcohol next to the soft drinks. You grabbed two plastic cups.

"Give me the house specialty."

"Say no more." You served two glasses of mineral water without hesitation. When Marc noticed, he couldn't help but laugh as he held his cup.

With a jump, you climbed onto the counter table, spreading your legs to make room for him. It was as if your body worked automatically when it came to Marc. Like clockwork, he settled between your legs to continue drinking from his glass.

"I can't believe I used to hate mineral water before I met you."

"It's spicy water. How could you hate it?" You tried to stifle a laugh.

He laughed with you. One of those silly laughs where the alcohol in your system speaks for you, and the dream of being with someone you love makes things twice as fun as they really are.

The laughter died down little by little, Marc rested his forehead against yours and kept his eyes closed, along with that silly smile.

"Everyone is talking about us." you whispered after a few seconds of silence.

"You're my fake girlfriend after all." you laughed again.

"You have to stop, you'll get me in trouble with Joel.” Just the mention of his name made Marc's stomach churn. He bit his lower lip to avoid saying what he really thought.

"Oh, really?" He opened his eyes again, moving his head slightly to lightly brush the tip of his nose against yours, making you smile. His fingers pressed against your thighs, and you gasped when he pulled you closer to his body with a single tug. Now you were sitting on the edge of the counter.

"Marc?" You swallowed hard when you noticed his gaze fixed on you. The playful and teasing air had suddenly vanished.

"Uh-huh?" He licked his lips, and your gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. You had felt this kind of impulse before, but you always did your best to ignore it. Even before you met Joel.

He noticed the change in your expression and almost smiled triumphantly. After years, you were beginning to let your guard down. Without waste time; his body leaned forward, and suddenly his lips met yours. You had waited so long for this that you almost stole a moan from each other.

Marc's lips were delicious, even though it hurt you to admit it. Beyond the taste of beer and mint, you could feel him in your mouth, and that was so much more intoxicating than every drink he had prepared for you throughout the night.

It was desperate, as if he wanted to show you just how much he had desired you over the past years. You felt his tongue exploring your mouth, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, and his hands roaming from your waist to your thighs again and again.

His jeans became uncomfortable again when he managed to make you whimper against his mouth. With you on the edge of the counter, it wasn't hard for him to push his hips against you, grazing your thigh in an attempt to find some relief to his growing boner.

For a moment, he considered it might be a dream; it wouldn't be the first time he had this kind of dream about you. But his alarm always managed to bring them back to reality just as he was about to reach the best part.

Just like now.

Oh no, wait, that wasn't his alarm.

It was your ringtone.

Like a bucket of cold water, he had to snap out of it. You pulled away from him, cheeks flushed, breathing ragged, and lips swollen and moist from Marc's hungry kisses.

"It's Joel." Of course, it was him. It was always him.

You didn't even give him a chance to fully react as you hastily escaped from his embrace and left the kitchen. It felt like the walls were closing in on you, and you felt suffocated.

The garden seemed like a better option.

"How's the party going?" Your boyfriend's cheerful voice on the other end of the line made your stomach churn.

As you licked your lips, you could still taste Marc.

"Amazing, love." You looked at the pair of guys lying on the grass, tipsy and probably about to fall asleep.

"Is Marc there with you? Will you both come back together?"

You swallowed hard.

"Yes, I... yes." A few seconds of silence. Joel was used to your chatty version, the one who started conversations in the worst situations.

"Oh..." More silence. "I'm glad, it's safer that way." His tone of voice indicated he was serious. Another blow to the stomach knowing the trust he placed in both of you. "Will I see you on Sunday?"

"Of course, love." You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a few seconds as if trying to console yourself.

"I won't interrupt you anymore, sugar." As if sweeping away that uncomfortable atmosphere, he returned to his playful and affectionate tone, one that you rarely didn't hear. "I love you, can't wait to see you."

"I love you." You were out of breath. "See you."

You waited in the yard until Marc got tired of your absence. You didn't function well without each other, and in social situations, this was no exception. He came out silently, not asking anything, and you were grateful he didn't.

He placed his red jacket over your shoulders before taking your hand, and you didn't reject him; you never could. You intertwined your fingers together, and it was you who led him to the car.

The car that belonged to both of you, if that made any sense.

The ride back home was silent.

Despite the heaviness in your chest, you couldn't help but let things flow with Marc. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't give him the cold shoulder or ask your body to feel uncomfortable with him.

Both of you prepared to sleep in the usual way. He didn't look back as you took off your dress, and you stood side by side at the sink while brushing your teeth. He did his best to ignore that you were wearing Joel's T-shirt to sleep for days now.

With a gentle push from Marc when it was time to go to bed, you laughed a little and felt a bit more at home with his company.

You followed the routine; he opened his arms to welcome your body, and you snuggled up to him as closely as possible. The way he held you made you sigh with relief.

This was definitely your favorite place. Your home was in Marc Spector's arms.

"I love you, you know that, right?" He whispered in your ear, silently praying that his scent would linger in Joel's stupid shirt.

You nodded slowly, unable to contain your smile.

"I know, Marc." A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your breath on his neck. "I love you too."

If only you said it in the way he wished.

He fell silent when the screen of your phone lit up, partially illuminating the room. He squinted slightly and, as he identified the small heart on the contact name of the text message, he knew who it was from.

Rolling his eyes, he tightened his hold on you, eliciting a playful groan from you. He kissed your hair before snuggling with you, a smile on his face.

Was this going to become a competition? Then so be it.

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junosmindpalace · 6 months

Note

Hihihi!! I absolutely LOVE your writing and i was wondering if i could request a modern setting senku x reader where they're academic rivals? Tho it would be cool if reader (can be either gn or fem!) was good at writing/literature and stuff instead of science like senku. I feel like it would be a silly little dynamic:3 Uhhm i hope it's okay!! Tysm in advance and pls take your time!! <3

hi hi! thank you for your request! i hope this is okay!

Though it often didn't seem like it since he is always so eager to indulge people in their scientific queries, Senku Ishigami is competitive.

This is something that his friend Taiju knows from all their gaming sessions, and later, this is something that is eventually discovered upon further watching him tackle tricky experiments. Never will Senku Ishigami turn his back on someone in need of help, on someone who wants to hear and learn more about science; but when a challenge presents itself, he’s determined to prove himself against it. Not for pride, but a sense of achievement. Excitement.

And for the longest time, you have been the biggest and most exciting challenge Senku has had.

The same went for you. Senku Ishigami had caught you quite off guard when you first met him. An eccentric, brilliant kid who wowed you with his scientific knowledge and capabilities. And when he discovered you in a similar fashion, a sort of unspoken rivalry was established--

--If rivalry even was the appropriate term to use, because there was never any real malice toward one another, especially from Senku’s end. Yet there was this lingering competitive air between the two of you on who could come out on top in certain projects. This was for all classes and assignments.

Jabs at one another was just part of your relationship (and sort of ritual, when in competition) with Senku, and certainly from an outsider’s perspective did it come off harsh and from a place of hatred. Any thoughts of malicious intent toward one another were instantly dissolved, however, when said outsider took notice of the way you two looked at each other, with not only matching challenging expressions, but genuine reverence and appreciation for what you bring out in one another.

Science, of course, was where Senku was primarily eager to take up a challenge. Though it was mostly him who showed you up in this area, it was you that showed him up when it came to literature. Reading, writing, communications; now that was your area to shine. It was not only this passion but your extensive general knowledge of the world (and what lies outside of it, which had pleasantly surprised Senku) and ambition for learning, forming relationships, and growing, along with your indulgence of Senku’s own enthusiasm, that made you so exciting to the scientist.

If previously discussed outsider who assumed that the two of you harbored malicious feelings for one another couldn’t catch on to those lingering gazes and continued to hold their previously stated assumption, there were many other instances that could’ve changed their view.

The two of you could often be found in a spare classroom sitting at the same table doing work together, asking each other questions and making conversation both pertaining to the work at hand and about whatever else was on your minds. Through the door that was often left half opened, passerbys could catch on to your enthusiastic chatter and get a glimpse through the long thin window an exchange of notes on the table the two of you occupied.

The members of the science club can always anticipate your visits, your name and face becoming recognizable as a regular visitor despite not being a formal member. Nevertheless you were always welcomed in with updates on projects, and you spent your time looking over (primarily Senku’s) shoulders and having your eccentric friend eagerly walk you through his own recent work.

The school newspaper and book club recognize his face just as much as the science club members recognize yours. The paper has covered Senku’s eccentric projects a few times after taking up your suggestion that the work he does would make for an interesting article. He’s read them and sprouted glowing praise on the way you captured the thrilling essence of science so stunningly (all in an awed tone as he scanned over the paper, while you attempted to exude nonchalance with a shrug, though you could feel the warming in your cheeks give yourself away). The book club has discussed quite a bit of science fiction from Senku’s own suggestions. He’s sat through a couple of meetings despite not being all that interested in genres that weren’t related to non-fiction, sci-fi or fantasy. Still, his in-a-nutshell summaries of chapters and events make you laugh, and so he at least gets something out of them.

And so when the misconception is eventually cleared up, the outsider can now see how endearing your dynamic really is; the fact that the two of you can get so into your competition but so very easily fall into a groove of working together. You encourage and build each other up to be better with your own work and questions inspiring him, and his inspiring yours.

And ultimately this is what made you so attractive to one another; the fact that you were both incredibly dedicated, hard working and intelligent people. Now, it’s no wonder the two of you got along so well together

(If there was something that wasn’t so endearing, and again brought up the point that perhaps you held some sort of malicious intent with your quips, it was when you’d combine your knowledge to gang up on others. The ill-natured vibe it gave off was unintentional on your parts.)

...

#i've been trying to get back into regularly writing for tumblr #but life has been busy #so hopefully this is okay!#dr stone x reader #dr stone fluff #dr stone oneshot #drst x reader #drst fluff #drst oneshot #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami fluff #senku ishigami oneshot

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muniimyg · 4 months

Text

NICE GUYS FINISH LAST // KNJ

you’re still so pretty

strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and then.. strangers again?

navi | m. list | ask me! |

pairing:

med student nam joon + med student oc

au/genre:

high school sweethearts to exes to ???

fluff !! slight angst

note: cute little one shot in my drafts… idrk whats going on but it’s giving meet cute vibes!!! enj!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

One thing people never talk about is the loneliness that comes hand-in-hand with being ambitious.

You lose friends, opportunities, and even love.

Feeling the need to prove the world and others wrong—getting so lost in your strength that you’ve become weak—it’s not a life everyone can live. The exchange of your success came at the cost of having your loved ones as collateral damage.

Kim Nam Joon was exactly that for you.

Though you two didn’t end on a sour note, the memories and possibilities of you and him leaves a bittersweet taste in your tongue. Thinking of him, speaking of him, and missing him comes in waves. Yet, with each memory, you gladly drown.

Others argue that you bloomed late while your parents like to defend you and say you’re too good to settle for anyone less. Your parents, however, kept their mouths shut whenever it came to Nam Joon.

They liked him.

He was practically accepted and assumed to be the one you marry… It’s silly, isn’t it? For parents to see stars in their daughter’s eyes at such a young age and understand why.

From what you can remember, he was a quiet nerd who helped others but was also good at identifying when he was being used. There was a difference. He held your bookbag, dropped you off at class, and always sat with you and your friends at lunch. His friends would tease him about how whipped he was for you and your parents would often bicker about how young you two were to be that inseparable.

So when it ended—because nothing at the age of 17 really lasts—he didn’t know if it was over or if it was truly over. Partly because you didn’t sound cold when you asked for space and the distance that grew between you two had given you both time to accept the inevitable. Still, when it happened it felt utterly confusing. For weeks, he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d changed your mind before the summer ended and went on to your separate ways… In case you changed your mind—if a single ounce of you wanted to give the long-distance a fucking try—he had a plan.

The plan.

Calls are to occur every Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday nights. Calling every night might get tiring, but it’s okay if the calls increase due to missing each other.

Good morning texts every day.

Visiting each other should be done through turn-taking. He’ll go to you first.

Fly home every big holiday.

Shit like that.

He wondered if you would change your mind before he[‘d have to force himself to get over you. Then, he wondered if you would even think about changing your mind at all. Until suddenly, he realizes that you never even asked.

You probably never even thought about him.

You two broke up the summer before University. You both told everyone that your dream schools were at opposite ends of the world. Knowing you both could make it; it was hard for others to disagree. However, Nam Joon began to feel a bit of resentment as the breakup became more and more real. Deciding that long-distance would complicate your study and work schedules was a practical decision—but it was not his.

It was yours.

He’s almost certain that the decision was made out of 80% of logic, 5% out of love, and 15% out of insecurity.

You’ve never failed anything in your life. Perhaps, love is no exception.

As the seasons changed, time flew and the breakup felt like a summernight dream. It slowly became a topic that only popped up once in a while, and when it did, you spoke of it like how it felt. It felt kind and sweet. Like the aftertaste of strawberry milk candies and craving for more, like the way you finish a good book where the characters don’t die and nothing feels tragic, but a part of you wishes you hadn’t reached the end. That, if you could, you would reread the pages as if you never knew a thing. You spoke of your puppy love like how love felt; love felt like him.

The peace you’ve made with your feelings for him suddenly begins to panic as a familiar tall and dimple smile greets you. Cheesy to say, but too difficult to deny—all the memories of him begin to flood your mind as he approaches.

With his heart on his sleeve, he stands before you.

“Long time no see, ___.”

His smile is the same.

The way his lips curve perfectly reminds you of how they felt against your neck. He had that habit—smiling into a kiss that is. His hair is shaved, earning a good laugh from you. You’ve never seen him so… Manly?

“Kim Nam Joon,” you gush. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Offering your hand, he stares at it and chuckles. His shoulders are much broader now, so his body language is much more noticeable. It suits him.

“Too formal, ___.” Nam Joon laughs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Gently, he places a kiss on your knuckles and squeezes them. To others, this may be forward… To you, it’s just right. He always greeted you like this. A part of your heart is relieved he hasn’t changed that much. “But, yeah... It has been a while. 6 years to be exact!”

“You kept count?” Your eyebrows knit together, teasingly. He gives you a playful irritated look, causing your heart to melt a little.

“You know what I mean… I just—I didn’t know you were back in Korea. You don’t use social media so it’s a little hard to hear anything about you.”

To his dismay, it was difficult to get any news from you. Nam Joon would be lying if he said he hadn’t been asking around about you or if he hadn’t stayed up once in a while attempting to find your name on social media. Your closest friends moved on with their lives and careers; no one had time to reminisce on old high school sweethearts.

Except him.

“I finished my degree and then came back here for this med program. That was my plan, remember? It was always the plan. Nothing has changed,” you confess. “I thought you’d be way further into med school than me. You always talked about getting it done as fast as possible.”

He shrugs. “I took a gap… For like, 2 years and then failed 1 course… Twice.”

In complete shock, you gasp. “Kim Nam Joon… Failed? Twice at that?”

“It was a tough class! I fucking hate Psychology. Why do we even need it in pre-med? Like—”

You burst into tears. Tears of joy. Laughter, really.

“Y-you failed… P-psych? The easiest fucking course in the universe?”

Nam Joon shoots you a glare.

“My prof was crazy.”

“So are you for failing a fucking psych class!”

Nam Joon lets you have your moment. You continue to laugh, having a difficult time believing in his claim. As you continue to make fun, he makes himself comfortable, taking a seat next to you.

“Are we done? Can we please move on?” Nam Joon groans in embarrassment.

Composing yourself, you give in to his wish. “Some things never change, huh? You still make me laugh.”

His eyes soften. “You’re mean for using my failure as your source of joy.”

Then, you laugh again. You hit his shoulder, unable to contain your fun. Then, your eyes widen as your hand makes contact with his body.

Unhinged, you tell him, “Holy shit. You’re huge!”

Nam Joon’s eyes widen and he almost chokes on air.

You turn red.

“Y-you know what I mean!” You shove him playfully. It makes no difference. You barely moved him.

Nam Joon then begins to empty his bag. Taking out his laptop, he explains himself. “Ahhh. I met a few friends who are absolute gym rats. If I’m not studying, I’m at the gym with them.”

Teasingly, you gasp again. “Ohhh? So I have no insane drinking party stories to hear from you?”

Shaking his head with a smug smile, he answers you. “No.. There are definitely some insane drinking party stories for you to hear… Maybe after class? We could grab a cup of coffee and catch up.” He suggests. He isn’t sure what had gotten into him to be so rash, but he missed you. Seeing you again, his body automatically made its way to you.

You nod, feeling a little warm. “Sure! I’ve missed you.”

His heart skips a beat.

He missed you too.

The coffee hangout goes well.

You catch Nam Joon up with everything you’ve been up to. All the friends and people you’ve met abroad and how you finally learned how to ride a bike at the ripe age of twenty. He teases you for learning so late and you nag him about getting his driver’s license. To which, he said he acquired… Just a month ago.

At that moment, he feels like nothing has changed even though so much has.

You were braver.

A lot more confident with your words and posture and Nam Joon was calmer and oddly a little funnier than you remember. Maybe you missed his quirky jokes and random “fun facts.” Whatever it was, it caused you to exchange numbers and constantly be texting back and forth.

Suddenly, two months go by, and he’s back to being your best friend.

You feel like you’re 17 again. Your days with him are filled with late-night study dates and bike rides around his favorite spots on campus. Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in a while, you finally felt like you were home.

Finally, he had persuaded you to join him and his friends at the gym. Your AirPods are in and you’re running on the treadmill as Jungkook, Seokjin, and Nam Joon crowd around the weights. Nam Joon is spotting Jungkook. As he lifts the heavyweights, Jungkook strikes the conversation first.

“Are you two getting back together?”

“What?”

“You and ___,” Jungkook grunts as he finishes his rep. “Everyone is assuming so and I want to be the first one with confirmation... Makes me feel special.”

Nam Joon rolls his eyes and turns to check on you. With longing eyes, he assures his friends: “we’re just friends.”

Seokjin pokes his head in and laughs. “Shut up. Being funny is my thing.”

“Seriously!” Nam Joon urges. “Sure, we talk about the past and all but.. Not about us—nothing about us. And.. And I don’t think she wants to? It’s weird… And it’s okay. I rather it is like this than to make things awkward and not have her around anymore.”

Jungkook drops the weights and sighs.

“Ahh! Exactly my point!”

He and Seokjin share a look and bump shoulders with Nam Joon. They’re completely aware of how their friend was looking at the girl he had loved once and can’t help but feel like something about this situation felt unfinished.

“This is fate, you know?” Jungkook insists. “You two were in love and then it wasn’t the right time so you guys broke up. You guys were young back then… It was practical. But, she’s back and you still love her. It’s the right time. Now, this is the part where you try again.”

Nam Joon can’t help but feel like an idiot.

“Fuck off, Kook,” Nam Joon orders. “It’s over. I’m lucky to even just be her friend again. Besides, she probably has a boyfriend.”

Seokjin squints at Nam Joon in disbelief. “... Well, have you even asked her if she’s seeing someone?”

All three boys look dumbfounded.

No one knows what to say.

Would it be weird to ask such a thing? Of course, Nam Joon was curious, but a part of him kind of figured that talking about your current relationship status wouldn’t be the best icebreaker for you two.

“Look man, it doesn’t matter. You’re her ex. Her first boyfriend ever! You have rights.” Jungkook encourages. He picks up his water bottle and begins to chug.

Seokjin hits Jungkook’s stomach mid-gulp. “Rights? Kook, I think that’s for people who have kids and are having difficulty co-parenting—”

“He has rights!” Jungkook defends sternly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he pats Nam Joon on the back. “Just ask her if she’s seeing someone… If not, ask her out. Try again.”

“What makes you think I want to try again?” Nam Joon scuffs and his two friends roll their eyes.

Jungkook and Seokjin share a look.

“You have been missing her your entire life. She’s back. A few giggles here and there and you ditch us for two months straight… Only to reach out and invite her to our gym to work out with us! No shade, but this is bro time!” Jungkook cries. “Also, you talk about it all the time when you’re 7 shots in. You haven’t had a girlfriend… Since her, right? Just hook-ups and a few flings… But no one is like her and that’s probably why.” Then, Jungkook hits Nam Joon’s head and sighs.

“No one is her.”

The three turn their attention to you. Two guys approach you and begin a conversation. Nam Joon observes and it causes Jungkook and Seokjin to chuckle.

“Time is ticking my friend. Tik tok, tik tok…” Jungkook makes an effort to let out a devious laugh. Nam Joon’s eyes begin to glow green and it satisfies his two friends. “Nice guys finish last… Ex boyfriends finish first!”

Jungkook leans towards Seokjin and whispers: “Looks like someone will be pulling ex-boyfriend card soon.”

With that, Seokjin and Jungkook switch. Seokjin lifts the weights and Jungkook helps to spot him. Nam Joon should look away, but he can’t. His eyes are glued to the way you’re laughing at the two boys who are trying too hard to impress you.

Mid lift, Seokjin teases Jungkook.

“You used the term “bro time,” right? You’re such a fucking loser, Kook.”

Nam Joon felt different though.

He felt like the fucking loser.

Nam Joon doesn’t call or text you as often as he did before.

Since that gym session, he had begun to act a little distant. Like he was trying to set boundaries or something. It felt odd that his actions felt familiar. You felt a little ache in your heart and your head hurt.

The past few weeks have not been easy for Nam Joon as well. He felt like an absolute dick for ignoring your warmth. He tried to excuse it by saying that he was too busy with his assignments and studying. So badly does he want to pull away from you; but it felt draining. He wanted to be near you and the fear of you not wanting him back was definitely taking a toll on him.

It was confusing though.

In the middle of the night, he’d come over once to give back your textbooks in exchange for a few of his hoodies. It didn’t feel real seeing him at midnight. Some nights, he’d come over a little damp from the midnight rain. As you let him into your place, all you can think to yourself is: damn. I think I’m still in love with this man.

So, yes.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. With each passing day, his presence made you nervous. If his coming over at midnight wasn’t bad enough—it was the 9am’s with him that was worse. It was more about how close you two sat next to each other and how intimate these labs were. With each little moment of fingertips brushing, bumping into each other and him steadying you with his hands on your waist, and the little nose scrunch exchanges—the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy.

Fine.

Maybe you did fail once in your life.

You failed to be honest. You failed to fight for him. You failed to be someone to him that stays.

Nam Joon wasn’t having much fun either.

You’ve always been so pretty to him. He especially loved whenever you two had study dates because he could watch you furrow your eyebrows, reread the same sentences, and mumble formulas and concepts to yourself over and over again. If he was lucky, he’d look up at the right time and catch you sighing from frustration. Your puffy cheeks and sleepy eyes made his heart soft and confused. To him, it was enchanting to see you so invested.

Kind of like right now.

As you look into the microscope, he can’t help but feel nervous. He wants to reach out and move your hair to the side. It’s bothering you and he can tell. He wants to do it, but he hesitates.

It would be too much, right? He would be crossing the line—especially since you’re the one that broke things off with him.

His thoughts pause as you pull away and blink at him.

“Oh, shit! I have an interview at a clinic nearby so I can’t stay to help clean up after this. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you before we began—“

“___, it’s okay. Go do your thing. I hope you get it.”

Warmly, you smile at him.

“Thanks, baby—Nam Joon,” you correct yourself, throwing your head back and laughing nervously. In exchange, he stares at you blankly. You clear your throat, trying your best to move past this. “Sorry! For a second, I thought you were my boyfriend again.”

He brushes it off and tells you it’s okay. Again, you go back to looking into the microscope. Focusing on adjusting the lens and pulling away every so often to make notes.

“Me too,” he says softly.

Then, you feel it.

He tucks your hair behind your ears. You pretend like his touch didn’t send electric shocks throughout your body and ignore it. Your cheeks instantly flush a rosy pink and spill your secret.

Nam Joon chuckles, completely in awe of you.

You’re still so pretty to him.

You’re still his.

#bts fic #bts fic rec #bts one shot #nam joon x yn #bts rm #bts rm fic #nam joon x reader #nam joon x oc #bts x oc #nam joon med au #bts med au #nam joon fluff #nam joon imagine #nam joon scenario #namjoon e2l #bts e2l

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still-a-morosexual-help · 11 months

Note

I just read Mammon's The Guardian Demon devilgram. Adorable! Mammon is top tier dad. My mc will fight those witch and raise that girl in Devildom with her father as God (or whatever obey me verison of God is) intended! I need dad Mammon in my life right now. Does the game mention his daughter more in other stuff?

Also Imma punch Solomon in the face. Sometimes this game makes it really hard to like Solomon. Why is he written to go out of his way to put down Mammon!? Yes, all of his brothers do it, but at least they know him and care about him when they're not being shitheads to each other. Why does Solomon have so much beef with Mammon? I'm not saying he can't, because everyone does. But idk it feels more aggressive when it comes from Solomon. Maybe it's because I haven't seen much of his character aside from the devilgrams and pop quizzes.

-💙🐏

Yes!! Definitely one of my favourite devilgrams! Outside of the Devilgram they mention her in S1 and in S3, I believe, Mammon mentions the three witches and going up to the human world frequently to meet them

Okay so about Solomon,

-> He thinks in a very practical way rather than an emotional way and, though his constant smile and upbeat attitude may not show it, he's rather cynical (the complete opposite of Mammon). We see this a lot in Nightbringer, where he's constantly preparing for a fight between the human world and other two realms and is heavily skeptical when MC talks about making the other two realms see humans as equals without it leading to a fight.

-> He talks about how demons (and angels) look down on humans and about wanting to make them see humans as equals but he himself seems to see demons as lesser than humans. He somewhat admits this in s3? s4? where he says he only started seeing demons as friends recently. But even this doesn't stop him from collecting them and trying to use them as weapons against their own people if he needs to

-> Solomon has lived a long time and it's made him very stuck in his belief that demons (and angels) see humans as lesser beings and nothing, other than proving it wrong through force, will change that. Even though we do see the attitudes of demons changing slowly throughout s1-4 with Diavolo's pilot exchange program

-> Solomon doesn't really have any family members or even close friends when he's first introduced in S1. The closest people to him are Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen and we already know that he didn't see the demons he had pacts with as friends until recently. So that just leaves Thirteen, with whom he has a very atypical friendship. They care about each other but they wouldn't put each other before anything else. He doesn't seem to have the best understanding on what typical (specially familial) relationships are like. This is why Solomon initially believes that MC, being human, would be like him and pick the safety of humanity over their loved ones. When almost any average human would tell you that they'd pick their loved ones over countless faceless strangers - something even Nightbringer knew

So Mammon's whole deal with the witches for the sake of some human child probably made him very skeptical. And so he tries to break it down to something that's more understandable to him, something that fits within his belief system

Eg: "Oh she's not excited to see Mammon because she sees him like a family member she just has a silly little kiddie crush on him"

^ Which is an insane thing for him to say, specially when both Mammon and MC (two of the most emotionally intelligent characters in om!) instantly pick out the fact that the girl sees Mammon as a father figure

But Solomon interprets it like a crush because crushes make sense. You can have a crush on a demon, specially if they helped you out. Hell, there are demons specifically there for you to have crushes on like Asmo and the succubi and incubi. But for a demon and a human to see each other as family? That's strange

Anyway Solomon is such a complex and interesting character, there's just so much you can unpack there, but I tried to keep this short as possible

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witch-and-her-witcher · 3 months

Text

Chapter Fifteen

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

For my darling @asnowfern!

Ao3 | Chapter 15/30

~*~

The smell of sex is obvious on them even to Nesta’s human nose as they descend the stairs sometime later. She’s wearing a more appropriate gown, ignoring Cassian’s complaints about hiding her backside from him.

The room falls silent as they enter and take seats alongside each other.

Nesta primly ignores the ogling from the males as she pours herself a fresh cup of tea, Azriel making a pointed face at his brother, while Elain looks anywhere but in their direction.

“Feel … reconciled?” Azriel asks, stony voice undulating on the last syllable.

“Yes,” Cassian says, with an annoying amount of male pride. “My wife and I are aligned on … matters. That we needed to address. We've been apart for some time and —”

“— that's plenty of explanation on our private discussion,” Nesta cuts in, sipping her tea and razor-sharp gaze on the other hulking bat who is fighting a tremor of amusement.

“It sounded like a thorough enough discussion from here, details would be unnecessary,” Lucien quips.

Nesta and Azriel both glare at him. The Spring emissary is cozied up beside Elain and the audacity is enough to throw Nesta off of his fresh comment, instead clenching her teacup to keep from pushing herself between them and “saving room for the Mother” as Lady Archeron had always tittered at dances.

As she adjusts her seat in annoyance, a rush of hollowed out satisfaction floods upward from her core. It’s a very welcome ache. Welcome enough to ease Nesta’s temper — she decides to let the proximity pass. How can she deny her sister silly flirtations and attention from a handsome male when she has just been taken care of so thoroughly?

Shouldn't she want the same sentiment for her sister?

But the bedroom eyes Lucien has roving over her younger sister … No. No, she doesn't have to want the same for Elain, it's her job to protect her from the wolves — of all shapes and sizes, but especially this suave in nature.

Before she can loosen her sharp tongue on him, Cassian’s low rumble of a voice snaps from her side. “Have you seen to your business, emissary? No need to remain sniffing around.”

The protective edge is plain.

Unused to having back up, Nesta preens. She lets her arm brush against Cassian’s as she plays at fixing her skirts once more. A reward for good behavior.

The bond tightens appreciatively.

Elain frowns, seeming to pick up on the united front, but Lucien settles back into his seat with much more confidence than suits a male facing two mighty Illyrians and an irritated Archeron. “I wanted to ask after the search for the missing Prince of Night while I'm here.”

“Why?” Azriel demands, and Nesta isn't sure how the redheaded male is even still breathing from the time they were away.

Poor Elain must be exhausted from playing mediator. Maybe that’s why she’s allowing Lucien to get away with —

“Azriel,” Elain coos, “Let the emissary speak. We made an agreement, remember?”

Azriel grumbles but falls back against the wall he's been leaning against without any more fight. The flicker of heat in Elain’s gaze at the submission …

Oh.

Perhaps her sister is not so exhausted from the task. It almost appears to be intentional, catching the slightest press of Lucien’s lips in response to the exchange — only there fleetingly before melding back into his courtier’s vapid smirk, but long enough for Nesta’s well-trained eye.

Nesta wonders when Elain became so interested in dancing between two males attentions, but she’s also not blind to how attractive Lucien and Azriel both are.

Lucien flashes his sharp, pearly white teeth in a smile as Elain taps his elbow to continue.

“I ask because as you know, Rhys has history with the new High Lord —”

“— and what has High Lord Tamlin done with that friendship? He's not aided our effort in the least,” Cassian says curtly, dropping into the full military facade. “Our requests for passage through the wall have been denied, requests for information from fae still passing through the open section of the border denied.”

“Have you considered that stomping your feet and making demands like entitled children is why you haven't gotten far? Tamlin values his friendship with Rhys, but he can't afford to let other courts believe they can bully him in his new position because they knew him on the battlefield. He's owed proper respect.”

“The fucking Prince is missing, excuse us if we don't want to sit down for tea and shove Spring crumpets up our asses just to put in a request.”

Lucien’s russet eye flares with indignation. “There are protocols for a reason. We are trying to gain some semblance of stability in the shitstorm of post-war ruling. Remind me again which part of your land was used as a killing field for years and was then sawed apart to appease a Treaty that somehow didn't loosen any land from the tight fists —”

“What information do you want in exchange, Lucien?” Nesta asks with an eyeroll. These males are doing everything in their power to chase away her post-orgasmic bliss. “I can't listen to this pissing contest.”

The tension in Lucien’s shoulders releases and he smiles around a centering sip of tea. His half golden gaze flicks between Nesta and Cassian.

“If the High Lord of Night would meet with the High Lord of Spring —”

“No chance.”

Lucien shrugs indifferently, but the muscles in his jaw coil. “Alright then. I would expect more of the same if you’re unwilling to play.”

Cassian shoots to his feet, the bond running hot with emotion. “This isn’t a game to play!”

“I’m well aware, which is why I say again, stop acting like entitled younglings.” Lucien slowly rises, as if proving how unflustered he is. “You ask what we need in exchange, and that’s solid allies willing to legitimize Tamlin’s rule after such an unexpected change of power.”

“I will address it with the High Lord,” Azriel cuts in before Cassian can vent his rage further. His expression has gone unsettlingly still, his shadows look poised to fight over his shoulders.

Elain wrings her hands in her lap.

“What in the hell is all this ruckus?”

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfic #CYLMWIHM #my writing

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