#like i guess I had such low expectations that it turned out to be pretty good

[satorusugurugurl]

Idk how you would turn this smutty. But I guess it doesn’t have to be. But how would the jjk boys deal w their girl being depressed or just not really liking herself

JJK Men: When You’re Feeling Depressed/Anxious/Down

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU),

Word Count: 4,090

Warnings: Mentions of low self-worth, depression, self-negativity, anxiety, fluff!

A/N: A fix for those of us who have those bad days and need a little pick me up.

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo noticed something was wrong from the exasperated sigh from the bedroom. Popping his head in, he watched as you threw a top down on the ground, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your face was comforting between frustration and anger before you laid down on the bed, face down; your scream muffled into the mattress.

Seeing you like this, distraught and in distress, had Satoru padding across the floor, plopping down on the bed next to you. His large, warm hand gently rubbed up and down your back in soothing strokes. Only stopping when you slowly pulled back to look up at him.

“What's bothering you, sweet pea?”

“I just,” you sighed heavily, “nothing looks good on me. I feel dumpy, and I hate how I look.”

The harshness of your words had Satoru moving as if you had slapped him. “I'm sorry?” His hands cupped your face, squeezing it. “It just sounded like someone was insulting my girlfriend.” you tried pulling away from him, groaning as your hands pushed at him.

“Toru, stop!”

“No, you stop.” His tone left no room for arguments. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen: your face, personality, even this perfect body. Everything about you is perfect.” he was pleased when you didn't argue with him, “You don't like your clothes? You don't like how the clothes look? Come on.” he yanked you up, tossing you one of his shirts.

“Huh? What?”

“I said, come on.”

While wallowing in yourself, pity sounded like a beautiful idea. You knew your boyfriend. He wouldn't stop at nothing until you listened. So you reluctantly got up, dressed in one of his expensive shirts, before he dragged you out of the apartment.

Knowing Satoru, he would take you to some sweets shop and get you whatever you wanted. That was something you expected when it came to him. What you hadn't been expecting was for him to pull you into a boutique, the boutique you'd always fantasized about shopping at.

“W-Why are we here?” you asked, eyes wide as Satoru sat in a plush chair.

“You don't like any of your clothes, so I’m going to buy you a whole new wardrobe.” he leaned back, giving you a dazzling smile. “You shop to your heart's content, sweetheart.”

Your eyes moved around the shop, taking in the clothes you'd dreamt of wearing. “I-I can't, Toru, it's too expensive.” Satoru sighed dramatically, leaning his head back.

“I’m the head of the Gojo clan, a single child, and the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Money is not a problem. I could buy out the entire store, and that's pocket change.” You twiddle your fingers, still feeling hesitant. “Sweetie,” you lifted your eyes, “have fun, you’ll feel so much better.”

Part of you didn't want to do this, to spend his money. It felt like he was a Sugar-Daddy when he presented you with extravagant gifts, but at the same time, he liked spoiling you. With a pout, you began thumbing through racks and pulling out tops and pants you liked before handing them to an awaiting clerk.

You glanced and grazed, pulling stuff off racks that looked good. Before you knew it, you stood in the dressing room surrounded by what seemed like dozens of articles of clothing. Would any of these even look good? Or would you still feel dumpy? The only way you would know was if you tried them on, which you had been dreading.

You pulled on a pair of jeans, a blouse, and some shoes before walking out. Satoru perked up, jaw-dropping as you stood in front of the mirrors. You looked—amazing. Your face mirrored his. You looked so pretty. The clothes fit you perfectly and complement the curves of your body along with your skin tone. For the first time all day, you felt good about yourself.

“Wow, just wow.” Satoru was a beaming ball of sunshine. “You looked beautiful earlier, but the confidence radiating off you is blinding! Strongest sorcerer in the world and luckiest boyfriend in the world!” You watched him pump his fist in the mirror.

“I feel perfect about this one.” you did a little twirl, looking at your backside.

“Me too! Go on, try on the next outfit! I wanna see everything.”

You felt as though you were in a movie. Going through a montage of outfits, all of which Satoru excited. He proudly announced to one of the attendants that you were his stunning girlfriend and looked terrific in everything. Ultimately, Satoru bought you ten new outfits, six dresses, ten pairs of shoes, and some jewelry.

You walked out in one of your new sun dresses, grabbing onto your white-haired boyfriend's arm. With a glance down at you, Satoru signed contentedly, squeezing your hand. You had a smile that could light up a million stages. His hand gently squeezed yours; your head tilted to stare at him.

“Feel better?” Satoru asked, giving you a wide smile.

“A million times better. Thank you, you didn't have to do that—” Having him spend that money on you left a bad taste in your mouth. Satoru could see how you avoided his gaze, how your hand tightened.

“I know.” The gentleness of his tone had your nerves relaxing. “But you were down, and I wanted to make you feel better. And from that adorable smile. I'd say I did a pretty damn good job.”

“You're so full of yourself.” Satoru swung your conjoined hands back and forth. “But that doesn't mean that you're wrong. You did an excellent job, Satoru; thank you again.”

“Anthrung to brighten your day, sweetheart. Now, let's grab some lunch! I wanna be the guy to take the hottest woman in the world to lunch!”

Geto Suguru:

Suguru could see it in your grin at work. It was a soft smile, one that screamed to others that you were okay. Everything was perfect in your life. But he could see the way that smile fell when everyone looked away. You weren't your perky, bubbly self, and that worried him.

Suguru waited until after the last of the students to leave before he walked up behind you, resting his chin on the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your waist. For a brief moment, he feared that you might pull away, that you needed space. He held a bated breath until you relaxed against his chest, allowing yourself to be engulfed by his larger frame.

He stayed like that, holding you tight for a long moment and not moving until you shifted from one leg to another. It was a signal that told him you wanted to move without outwardly saying it. So he released you, arms falling to his sides, hands sliding into his pockets as you stepped to collect your bag off the desk.

“Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head instead of answering him. You knew if you were to open your mouth to confess that you weren't as okay as you claimed, you would end up crying. You knew Suguru could see you weren't OK, but he wasn't the type to pry. So he just wrapped his arm around you and ushered you out of the classroom to head back home.

When you arrived, you took off your shoes and jacket and began heading to the kitchen to prepare something for dinner. Suguru was faster than you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the living room, where he forced you to sit on the couch. He was lightning fast, sitting behind you, his hands gently rubbing at your tense shoulders, making you melt.

His fingers rubbed and kneaded the stiff muscles in your shoulders and upper back. His touch back in the classroom had been a comfort, but having him rub out the tension had you moaning as you leaned forward. Your soft mewls had him grinning, his fingers and hands continuing to move over your back.

“So,” he began, “will you tell me what's wrong? Or would you prefer to savor the moment?”

With a soft sigh, your body arched, leaning into his touch. “I just haven't been feeling like myself. I wake up a ball of stress, and I haven't been sleeping well.” A lump began to form in your throat as you struggled to find the words. “Works been a lot; I've been working twelve-hour days, that's not even including missions.” the tears you had been holding back this entire time finally escaped. “And I feel like I could do more for everyone and you. I don’t feel like I’m putting enough effort into everything.” The kneading of Suguru’s hands ceased; they remained still, gently squeezing your shoulders.

He took a moment to process your words, to filter through the pain and the stress that seeped through them. It was painfully clear to him that you were far more stressed than he had imagined. Situations like this called for more than just a back massage.

”I’m sorry that you have so much on your plate right now. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” The couch shifted as your boyfriend stood up, scooping you into his arms and carrying you toward the bathroom. “I think you might need to take a day off for yourself and stop worrying so much about helping everyone else out.”

Suguru sat you on the bathroom counter before unzipping his uniform jacket. “But I wan—“ He placed his forefinger gently over your lips, silencing the protests and excuses he knew you were going to make.

”I know you want to help. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help out your co-workers and partner when a lot is going on. But you must also remember to care for the most important person.”

”Whose that?”

”You.” His words left your cheeks burning as you watched him draw a bath. “You want to help, but you can’t do that when you’re grinding yourself to the bone. For tonight, don’t worry about work, me, or what we're going to have for dinner. I want you to focus on you.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Suguru was right, and you had been working yourself to the brink of death. A hiccup was the only sound Suguru needed to hear to know that his words had struck home. Turning his head, bangs flowing, he shut his eyes as he gave you the warmest smile. You sat on the counter, wiping at your tired eyes, sniffling like a child as your boyfriends strode forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug.

”Let’s take the night to focus on you.”

Suguru ordered dinner, and as you both waited for it to be delivered, you soaked in the bath together. The aroma of your favorite bubble bath mix and candles calmed you down. Your eyes were heavy as you pressed yourself back against Suguru’s bare chest, humming contently as he held you close. For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself slip into a deep slumber in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Your deep breathing and relaxed features left Suguru’s heart feeling light. Taking care of you was one of the greatest pleasures of the world.

Nanami Kento:

Nanami straightened his tie as he looked over himself in the mirror. With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom and into your room, where you were nowhere to be found. The bed was unmade, so that you couldn't have gone far.

After grabbing his keys and wallet, Nanami went to the kitchen, where you were. Cocking an eyebrow, he began searching the apartment for you. The living room was empty, as well as the other bathroom. He was getting ready to pull out his phone to call you when a soft sniffle caught his attention.

The sound resonated from the office, where, upon looking inside, he found you sitting on the floor. You were surrounded by a pile of laundry in the basket, a list of groceries you needed to pick up, and you were reading over a report. He was watched for a long moment; tears ran down your cheeks as you sniffled, your eyes darting around items.

It was painfully evident you were in the midst of a depressive episode. When you suffered through these episodes, simple tasks you usually completed with ease were overwhelming to the point you held off on them until you could no longer ignore them. Seeing you so overwhelmed and drowning in your emotions had Nanami’s mind reeling on ways that he could help.

For now, the two of you need to get to work. With a gentle tap of his knuckles against the door, Nanami watched you regain your composure. You were taking several deep breaths, wiping at your eyes before you stood up, grabbing a boom to make it look as if you hadn't just been having an episode.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Your fiance asked, watching as you hurriedly passed him with your head down. “If we leave now, we’ll have time to stop for coffee.”

“Yeah, I’m ready!” Nanami listened to your voice fade before he stepped inside, grabbing the grocery list off the floor and sliding it into his pocket.

“Alright, let’s head out.”

The day went by too fast for you as you sat in the morgue looking over the folders you still needed to file. All the deaths had been bringing up memories of Haibara and the young lives that had been lost in your line of work. You needed a break to escape the death that constantly seemed to follow you in your work.

On top of all the work that had you drowning in sorrow, you had been neglecting the housework. You had fully intended on doing it before Nanami got home from his latest mission, but to your horror, he got home earlier than you thought. Meaning he saw how neglectful you had been, and that made you feel even worse about yourself.

Before those self-destructive thoughts could overtake you, the door to the morgue opened. What you had assumed was Shoko turned out to be your fiancè. What time was it?! Was he already picking you up? You snatched the clock off your desk and felt your stomach drop into your ass. It was six thirty. Six-fucking-thirty, you still had to go to the store, do laundry, and make dinner on top of everything else.

“I was beginning to wonder if you planned on sleeping here tonight.”

“N-No, sorry, I just—” Nanami tilted his head, “I lost track of time.”

“Right, well come on, let's go.”

On the walk back to the apartment, your mind was jumping back between the unfinished files at work and everything that needed to be done at home. All of it was important, you knew that. All you wanted to do was crawl under the blankets and sleep. This suffocating sadness had its grip around your neck, choking the life out of you and rendering you exhausted beyond all means.

There would be time to cry yourself to sleep once your chores were taken care of. Thinking about the pile of laundry awaiting you had your skin crawling as you entered the apartment. The same apartment that had been messy this morning was now tidy and smelt like the cleaning products you used. Your head darted to the number on the door. Did you walk into the wrong apartment?

The pictures on the walls of you and Nanami confirmed that you were, in fact, inside the correct apartment. Which only confused you more as you stepped further inside, taking off your shoes. You speed walked to the office to finish the laundry. But the basket was gone? Okay, so groceries.

You searched for the list you had made, looking under some books, the desk, and your recliner before Nanami cleared his throat from behind you. “If you’re looking for the list, I took it.” Wooden floorboards creaked under his weight before he held a bouquet of your favorite flowers towards you.

“W-What’a this for?” you questioned, your fingers grazing over his as you took the flowers from him.

“I noticed you were looking down and stressed this morning, so I figured you needed a little pick-me-up.”

The sweet floral smell flooded your senses as you inhaled deeply. “Oh Kento, these are beautiful, thank you.” His large hand cupped your cheek, caressing your skin.

“I also cleaned, finished the laundry, and picked up the groceries. So all you need to do tonight is relax.”

“K-Ken—” Words couldn't describe the relief that washed over you, “you didn't have to do that.”

“I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” You were gently pulled in, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re my partner, my future wife. There aren't set duties that you solely need to do. We're a team; I can easily help.” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks just as you threw yourself into his arms, bawling into his chest.

Your future husband smiled sadly, wrapping his big, strong arms around you. His hands soothingly rubbed up and down your back in gentle strokes, making you cry even harder. Kento was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Compassionate, loving, and gentle, what more could you ask for a partner?

You cried for what seemed like hours in Kento’s arms. Never once did he get annoyed or urge you to hurry up. Once you felt incapable of crying anymore, you pulled back, hiccuping.

“Feel better?” Kento asked, gently cupping your face in both hands. A nod was all he received back as a response. “Good. Now let's eat dinner, bathe, and relax.” That is precisely what you did, snuggled up next to him, dozing off as he stroked your head. His eyes raked over the page of his newest book. All the worries faded as you drifted to sleep, engulfed in the warmth of his body.

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU)

“I-Is it gonna hurt?” The young eighteen-year-old girl asked as Sukuna held her lip with sterile forceps.

“If I said yes, would it make you feel better?” Sukuna snickered, holding up a large needle.

“N-No?”

“Then let me do my job.”

With a stab, yelp, and one ring later, Sukuna watched the girl wiping tears away as she checked out. He was snickering as he sterilized his workstation. There is a fifty-fifty chance she'll keep it or not. But he got to get one hundred percent of the tip regardless. So he couldn't complain.

“Sukuna,” Geto called from outside his room, holding the shop's phone. “It’s for you.”

With a glance at the clock, Sukuna could make a couple of guesses as to who would be calling him at work at two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon. Either one of his little brothers got into a fight, and the school was calling, or it was one of his clients calling to reschedule with him. Hoping for the second possibility, he huffed an annoyed sigh, taking the phone from his co-worker.

”This is Sukuna.” The line was silent, almost too quiet. “Hello?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the client's chair. “Look, I got important stuff to do, so if no one is bleeding or needs my attention, I’m hanging up.”

A whimper stopped him from pressing the red phone icon on the phone. He knew that voice all too well. It belonged to you, his girlfriend of two months. Why the fuck were you crying? Panic settled in his chest as he stood up, his chair rolling away as he held the phone flush against his ear with his shoulder.

”Babe?” He asked, getting another whimper in response. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Geto and the others had all gathered around, exchanging worried glances with each other as Sukuna rushed to grab his jacket and helmet from his locker. “Hey, I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

”I-I’m sorry —“ Soft sobs sounded from the line, “I had a terrible anxiety attack, and work sent me home, and I just feel so out of it. I know you’re at work, but I need you.”

“Do ya’ really think I give a fuck about work when you feel like this?” His voice came out a bit harsher than he wanted. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—-“

Fuck, he knew better than to snap when you were in the midst of an attack like this. “No, you’re okay. I need you to tell me where I need to go.” Sukuna held his breath, waiting for you to respond.

”M-My apartment.”

”Unlock the door; I’ll be there in ten.” A soft sob between understanding and goodbye sounded from the other line just as he hung up. “Geto—“

His co-worker was typing on his phone. “I’m texting Satoru now; he’ll pick up Yuuji and Choso. I’ll call and rebook your other appointments. Get out of here.” Sukuna gave him a thumbs up and a sharp ‘thanks’ before he bolted out of the shop.

Just like he had promised you, he made it to your apartment in less than ten minutes, bolting up the stairs and turning a sharp corner before throwing open your door. He locked the door, threw off his shoes, and hurried to the one place he knew you’d be at. Sure enough, he found you under the sheets in bed, curled in a fetal position.

Your body shook with sobs, ones that made Sukuna feel like someone was twisting a knife into his stomach. He truly hated your anxiety attacks just as much as you did. Not because he had to help you through the tremors and tears. But because he hated seeing how much they wrecked you.

You were amid a choked sob when the bed sheets lifted, and your boyfriend's musky amber scent flooded your senses. His smell alone had your grip on the sheets loosening as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His body was so far, his hands gentle as you buried your face into his side, crying roughly, your tears soaking his shirt.

”Shh, it’s alright, brat, let it out. I got you; you’re going to be just fine.”

The sadness that clutched you tightly began to fade as he continued whispering into your ear. His soft words and gentle praises had you curling closer into him. Your boyfriend was the best at bringing you back into reality. He was your life preserver, holding you afloat in the sea of melancholy that would have drowned you by now.

This was the reason he was the one person you called in situations like this. Where the sadness was too much for you to carry or when your anxiety felt like it had possessed you, Sukuna was there to ground you and bring you back to your senses. Days like these were when you thanked whoever spun the bottle the night you played Seven Minutes in Heaven.

”You good?” Sukuna asked as he felt your trembles die out.

”Yeah, I’m just sorry I called you at work. For something so miniscule over an anxiety attack.”

Sukuna hummed and flicked your forehead with a painful—thump before he pulled your body closer to his own. “I gave you the phone number for the shop for a reason, brat.” His finger ran through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “I care about you; I want you to call me when you're feeling down or if you need me.” There was a particular hint of shyness to his tone before he cleared his throat. “So what happened?”

“Do I have to talk about it?” You questioned with a sigh. “I just want to lay here and relax with you.”

“Babe,” pulled you tighter against him. “We can do whatever you want. No questions asked.”

You got what you wanted, and that was him by your side, grounding you. He made instances like this easier to deal with. Just his presence alone was enough to make you feel like everything was going to be okay. All because Sukuna was by your side.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk y/n #jjk reader insert #jjk men #jjk gojo #jjk angst #jjk geto #jjk nanami #jjk sukuna #gojo imagine #geto imagines #nanami imagine #sukuna imagine #sukuna au #jjk gojo x reader #jjk geto x reader #jjk nanami x reader #jjk sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #reader x nanami #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader angst #geto x reader angst #nanami x reader angst #sukuna x reader angst #gojo x reader fluff #geto x reader fluff

[ddejavvu]

can i request spencer reid w bau!reader and their married but reader forgets to put her wedding ring back on and derek’s asking spencer about what happened/if theyre having marital problems and spencer starts panciking but she just forgot about it in her pocket😭

Derek's brow is knitted in real, authentic concern when he corners Spencer in the BAU's kitchenette, and it turns Spencer's stomach. Usually, Derek has a teasing glimmer in his eyes, but it's scarily absent today, and he braces a large hand on Spencer's lanky bicep.

"Pretty boy," Derek starts, and his tone is soft, soothing, kind, "Anything you wanna talk about? I'm here if you need me, y'know."

Spencer tries feigning calm, which is terribly hard to do as someone who's fraught with nerves constantly, but he keeps an even tone when he speaks.

"I don't think so. Should I want to talk about something?"

Derek smiles sympathetically, almost a grimace, and Spencer feels a flash of fear run through him. Has Derek heard something about his mom?

"I don't think anyone else has noticed yet," Derek assures Spencer, "But I saw Y/N's not wearing her ring."

It's not what he'd been expecting, dreading, but it's not pleasant either. Spencer's eyes dart hurriedly to your hunched form, shoulders bent and crowding your desk as you devote yourself entirely to your paperwork. Sure enough, your wedding ring is absent from your finger, leaving an uncomfortably blank space on your skin, and Spencer's brows knit together.

"I didn't know," Spencer admits, keeping his voice to a low murmur, "I- But- we aren't having any problems. I don't think."

Derek shoots that awful pitying grimace his way again, and Spencer shakes his head, his stringy hair flying.

"No, no- we're not- we're not having problems," He asserts, but he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Derek more, "I mean, we bickered about coffee this morning, but not- not marriage problems bad. She just forgot it."

Spencer knows what expression will be on Derek's face if he looks, so he doesn't. He busies himself with stirring the rest of the sugar into his coffee, excusing himself before Derek can press the issue even further.

On his way out of the kitchenette he snags a donut from an open box on the counter, slipping a napkin beneath it and trying not to rush to your desk. He doesn't want to seem obvious, but he's a flaming bundle of nerves.

"Angel," He gets right to the point, placing the donut beside your hand on the desk and leaning over the back of your chair. He nestles his cheek to yours, pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw and blocking your conversation from view of the bullpen with the way he shrouds you from behind.

"Spence," You begin, alarmed at the sudden ambush of sugar, both literally and figuratively, "What-?"

"Are you mad at me?" He asks, sounding rather like a child worrying to their parents. You're only more confused after his question, and you tentatively shake your head.

"No? Should I be?"

"I don't think so," Spencer hums, "But you're not wearing your ring."

You blink, glancing at your bare ring finger.

"Oh!" You gush, your shoulders pressing back against his own as you maneuver your hand into your pocket. It's difficult sitting down, but you retrieve the ring and jam it back onto your finger, "I took it off earlier because I was taking the trash out. I didn't want it to get all goopy, and I guess I just forgot it was in there." You let your explanation hang in the air for a moment, but your eyes flash with sympathy, remembering Spencer's initial question, "Oh, Spence, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," He breathes out a shaky sigh of relief, reluctant to straighten up from where he's hugging you from behind, "You didn't even freak me out. Morgan did."

You laugh, and the sound soothes those frayed nerves in his chest, the ones that had lit with sparks of panic at Morgan's pity, "Well, don't listen to Morgan from now on. However," You reach for the donut, tearing it in half and holding one end out to Spencer while you catch the other between your teeth, "If it means I get donuts in apology, maybe I'll forget my wedding ring in my pocket more often."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

[sungbeam]

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food

a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))

It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stifling hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.

You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.

“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.

Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—

“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.

The cat meowed an innocent greeting.

You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.

Oh. Well, that would explain it.

You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”

Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.

The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.

Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.

“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.

“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.

About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.

Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.

When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.

There was a pretty man at your door.

You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’

As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.

You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.

It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.

You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.

The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”

“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.

Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.

“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.

He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”

You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”

“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.

Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”

“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”

“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.

“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”

You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.

He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”

“No worries! Have a nice night.”

“You too!”

San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.

And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.

Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.

San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.

By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.

“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”

You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.

You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”

“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.

He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.

The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”

“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”

“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”

What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.

Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.

Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.

Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)

“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.

He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”

Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.

“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”

“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.

You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.

“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”

“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”

He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”

You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”

San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”

Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”

The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”

When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.

The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.

You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.

San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”

Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”

“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”

For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”

Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.

San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”

You hummed. “What about it?”

“Are you doing anything?”

You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.

And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”

You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”

And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…

“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”

Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.

He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”

It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.

There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.

He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”

You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”

“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”

There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.

San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.

You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”

You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.

His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”

“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.

“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”

You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.

“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.

“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”

He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”

You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.

As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.

“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.

The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”

His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

#hands on knees #this is gonna have more than three parts fffffff #FAIR WARNING I do jump between Wayne and Eddie’s pov in this. #Everything Ive written so far while in parts for tumblr would basically be chapter 1 on A03 #Eddies POV change would be chapter two #Ugh Im gonna have to put this on A03. Dammit brain. #also I updated this very fast for me #no one get excited Idk the brain is doing #steddie #beat to shit Steve Harrington #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne as a BAMF #I tried to get to the part where Eddie shows up but it just got too long for a tumblr post #pre steddie #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #tw injuries #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

[trivia-yandere]

dilemma

being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected - especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63

word count: 4.063

warning: drug dealer yoongi, oral (m receiving), kissing, smut, praising, weed smoking, unprotected sex, dirty talking, cumshot,

valentine's day masterlist

“Suga…” you murmur to the phone pressed to your ear. The sound of the shower is loud in the background as you wait for the water to turn hot. 

“Y/N.” the voice on the other side murmurs, voice deep and a little raspy. “You know you don’t have to call me that. I’ve known you for years now.”

You touch the water and hum. “I know. I like saying it, though.” you respond to the man on the other side. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you from anything. It is Valentine’s Day afterall.”

You hear a chuckle on the other side. “Nothing at all. I was just dozing off when you called.”

You lick your lips. You texted first, asking if he had your usual - nothing but an eighth of weed to hold you off. When he didn’t respond, you called.

You knew Yoongi way back from your High School years that then rolled into college and even now, as you worked at your big girl job. His product was good, affordable and he always threw deals for clientele such as yourself - loyal, as he calls them. There’s been times in which Yoongi would add extra to the bag he sold you just because.

“That’s sad. Figured a guy like you had someone to spend the day with him." The shower water is now hot. “I guess we’re both lonely on this holiday.”

You hear a grunt come from Yoongi. “I guess we are.” There’s silence for a moment from the both of you. “What do you suggest we do about that then?”

You lick your lips, your heart pumping at his sudden choice of words.

Another reason why you liked Yoongi - he always flirted back, no matter how subtle. You ponder if he was like this with all his clientele - but you understood that with you, he was. It never went past light flirting and lingering eyes, but it’s fun to engage with, nonetheless. 

“How about I drop off your usual and then we can smoke together?” Yoongi questions, a coolness in his voice. “I have a new strain you can try.”

“A new strain?” you open the shower door and get inside. The water hits your back and you lowly moan at the nice sensation of it. “That would be nice, Yoongi. How long do you think you’d be?”

“Not long. Are you in a rush?”

“No. I’m just showering.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment and you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Getting pretty for our smoke session, I see. How nice.” there’s shuffling in the background as you laugh at his response. “I’ll be there in around 20.”

“See you.”

You scrubbed your skin furiously as if it was covered in the most dirt and grime ever. Your showers lasted longer than 10 minutes - especially when it was an everything shower. How you managed to do everything in 10 minutes was beyond you, but you managed. You still had to get out and make yourself look good without appearing as if you were trying too hard.

You tilt your head in the mirror, mind wandering. 

What if Yoongi was just a natural flirt? You were probably thinking far too into the flirtings - here you stood in front of a mirror pondering on what lingerie to wear for a man that sold you weed. Could you get any more pathetic than that?

Then again, what exactly did you have to lose?

You sigh. Your dignity was one - and so was good weed for the low if Yoongi decided to deny you.

“Fuck it.” you shrug away your nerves, deciding that even if Yoongi denied you, that wouldn’t stop you from at least attempting.

You knew Yoongi likes black - it’s all you ever truly see him in. You decided on a lacy black one you only ever wore once - for pictures - and covered it with a long t-shirt that stops at your thighs. 

Your phone sounds and you exhale a breath. You place the phone upon your ear and murmur a soft hello. “YN…” you feel the goosebumps of hearing your name come from Yoongi’s lips. “...I’m outside.”

“Coming.” you sing-song. 

It’s evening in February and that meant it was a bit chilly out, but you’d choose to ignore the piercing feeling of the cold breeze against your legs.

Yoongi’s car matched him, you thought. It was a black sedan with the darkest tint of windows you’ve ever seen. It stands out in the driveway of your way - your own car wasn’t as new as his nor was the surrounding ones belonging to your neighbors. 

The car is still on, but Yoongi assures that the lights aren’t. You got into his car swiftly, admiring how clean it was and how him it felt.

“You look nice.” Yoongi comments, flickering on the light.

“In a big ass t-shirt?” you snort, but even your heart is pounding from the compliment. If he thought you looked nice now, you wondered just how he’d like your lingerie.

Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah.” he nods. “You smell nice, too.”

You bite your lip, glancing at Yoongi's way. 

“This is a nice car.” you had to change the subject. Yoongi was such a smooth talker and everything he said had a tone of seriousness to it. It was hard not to be tongue tied around him. “You can’t get all your money just selling weed.”

Yoongi knits his brows. “Sounds like you’re fishing for information.” he murmurs. 

“Just an observation.”

Yoongi grasps a small rectangular box. He opens it, revealing pre-rolled blunts wrapped in paper. “You’re correct. It isn’t all I sell.” he says. “But, Y/N…ignorance is bliss.” Yoongi lights one of the blunts and hands it to you. “Ladies first.”

You gently grab the blunt, trying to ignore the way Yoongi’s eyes watch you. You feel nervous underneath his intense stare, contemplating how you would make your move upon him.

Yoongi licks his lips, eyes trailing down to your exposed legs. They appeared soft and smooth and he wanted to test the theory, but he held himself back.

Yoongi blinks when your hand comes into his line of vision. Yoongi shakes his head. “You can keep that one. I’ll light another.” he says, opening the box once more and grabbing yet another blunt.

You giggle. “That seems excessive.” But you take Yoongi’s word for it and continue to smoke as Yoongi lights his own. “Isn’t there a rule for using your own supply?”

Yoongi chuckles, taking a drag of his blunt. “My supply would be fine, trust me.”

“I feel bad though.” you murmur, glancing out the window. It’s hard to see with the tint and you just thought that was perfect. “I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

Yoongi is intrigued. He watches as you slowly turn towards him, body facing his way now in the large seat. He wants to tear his eyes away from the way the oversized shirt rises up your thigh, but it takes him a whole ten seconds to do so - and yes, he did count. 

“How so?” Yoongi swallows, finally lifting his eyes to reach yours. He continues to smoke as he awaits your response. 

“I don’t have any money.” your blunt was smaller than his now as you take a few puffs before continuing. “I should have told you once I realized. You know, bills, rent and all.”

Your throat feels dry. Yoongi slowly nods his head before releasing a laugh. 

“That’s fine. You don’t have to pay me.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve been a loyal customer for years.”

Your eyes watch Yoongi inhale the smoke and exhale it through his nose. Your legs clench, finishing the blunt that has grown small.

“That would be taking advantage of you. I don’t want to do that.” you shake your head. 

“I consider you a friend of mine, Y/N.” You feel the jolt in your heart that tells you that your plan was going to fail. “You’re the only one that I would give such luxuries to.”

The jolt is back, but this time your plan was back in action. “Oh?” you ask, opening the window and flickering the small bud out of it. “I consider you a friend of mine, as well. But still…”

Yoongi blinks, tilting his head. 

“...I don’t just want to leave without offering you something.”

Yoongi’s unsure if he’s completely understanding what you’re speaking but he doesn’t have a moment to digest, either. You’re fast and swift, swinging your leg around and sitting completely onto his lap. Yoongi gasps when he feels you directly on him, the oversize shirt riding up your thighs once more.

There’s an open water bottle in the cup holder and Yoongi is quick to drop the rest of his blunt inside of it, not caring if he has wasted the rest entirely because you were in his lap. Yoongi is hesitant to touch you - he wants to feel the softness of your thighs. But he allows himself to slowly, telling himself that if you didn’t want him to, you wouldn’t be in his lap now. 

“You don’t have to offer me anything.” Yoongi murmurs, leaning back into his seat and looking up at you. 

Yoongi’s hands are big and they feel nice on you. You’d recall often staring at them whenever you and he were together - usually when he was bagging your weed. 

“I want to.” your hands send electric shocks through him when he feels them onto his neck. “You’ve been good to me after all these years. Always giving me deals, supplying more than what I ask for.”

Yoongi grunts when he feels you begin to grind against him and he is but a man, and within seconds he’s painfully (and embarrassingly) hard. 

“You even used to listen to my drunk ramblings when I’d call for weed.”

Yoongi snorts. “They were entertaining.” he admits, recalling the time you’d call him in all hours of the night back during your college days, ask for your usual, then completely change the topic of conversation. He never told you to shut up like you would have in his position.

Your hands slide down from his neck to his chest. You then grip the hem of your shirt and begin to lift. Yoongi watches in a trance, eyes slightly widening. In his eyes, you move in slow motion, taking off the oversize shirt.

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat and he tries his hardest to swallow it. His eyes are fixed on you - the black lingerie you wore that hugs you perfectly. It leaves little to the imagination, a lacy material covering your skin. He can see the outlines of your nipples - aroused and hardened for him.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Yoongi manages to swallow, eyes glancing up to look at you. You’re smirking down at him, satisfied that he was tongue tied. 

“You knew you were going to come out here and do this to me.” Yoongi presse you firmly against him, hands roaming up your sides. “That’s why you smell so good and your skin is so soft.”

Yoongi doesn’t intend to hold anything back now - not as you sit in his lap and allow him to touch you freely. He leans into your neck and inhales the sweet scent of your natural aroma mixed with perfume, a scent he’s sure he smelled before. He doesn’t want to think too much into it (or admit that he has smelled you when he’s given you your usual because he wasn’t a creep).

“Guilty.” you mumble, lowering yourself so you’re a few inches from his face. 

Yoongi places his lips against yours, moaning into the kiss. It catches you by surprise for a moment, but then you melt into him. His hands roam your body, palms feeling what skin you have exposed.

Your teeth sink into Yoongi’s bottom lip, lightly tugging it. Your palms slide into the back of his neck just as Yoongi’s begin to cup your ass.

“You want to do this here?” questions Yoongi, a dark look in his eyes. He isn’t opposed to it, however, the way he wants to have you would be quite difficult in his car.

“We can go inside.” you murmur, lips kissing down his jawline. 

Licking his lips, Yoongi nods. “You know you don’t have to do this if you think you need to pay me.” he has to be sure that it’s something you truly want to do - ignoring that you did come out here in lingerie and willingly sat in his lap after he stated you didn’t have to pay him.

“Maybe I just want to fuck you.” was your response and now, Yoongi is sure that tonight you’d get exactly what you were asking for.

The next is a blur. You managed to put your shirt back on while Yoongi gathered his own belongings and getting out the car. He keeps his hands on you as he follows you back inside your home and once the door is closed, you’re on him once more.

There had to be an attraction prior to this - between the both of you. You’d notice oftentimes that Yoongi’s eyes would wander when he thought you weren’t looking, and he also noticed how you’d become so giddy or flushed when he was around. This was bound to happen sooner or later - but never Yoongi leading it. 

So you had to.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask Yoongi, possibly far too late. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Yoongi nods his head, glad that he left condoms in his wallet with him.

“I’m clean.” Yoongi mentions, a dust of crimson on his cheeks. 

You smile. “So am I.”

You then fall to your knees, lifting the oversize shirt over your head. You then place them on the belt of his jeans, eyes glancing up at him.

Goosebumps run through Yoongi’s skin at what you’re trying to do and he’s quick to help you. He loosens his belt and you do the rest.

Yoongi’s already hard from seeing you on your knees and the thought of what's about to come next. He watches with his mouth agape as you take his cock out of his underwear, licking your lips.

It’s a rush going through you right now and for an odd reason, you feel yourself clenching around nothing just at the sight of Yoongi above you - and the thought of pleasuring him. 

“Shit…” Yoongi murmurs to himself, swallowing once his mouth becomes dry. You’re pumping his cock gently, eyes admiring at how pretty it looked. He was cleanly trimmed, cock erect and twitching in your hands.

You place a kiss on the tip of Yoongi’s cock before your tongue dips out and licks a single stripe upon it as if it was a lollipop. You can hear Yoongi’s breath hitching, and it’s what motivates you to continue.

Your tongue twirls around the tip, sucking it completely into your mouth. Your eyes glance up at the man, satisfied when his eyelids are closed and he’s beginning to pant.

Yoongi tries his hardest to remain upright, but then he feels your mouth more. So wet and warm and inviting - you take him into your mouth fully, continuing to suck as if your life depended on it. Yoongi leans against your front door, the back of his head pressed against it.

Deeper and deeper, you take Yoongi in your mouth. You rarely found your own pleasure when it came to pleasuring men - but this is different.Yoongi is hot, you’d admit, and even hotter when he’s moaning and panting because of you. You find yourself cleaning your own legs for any friction.

Managing to open his eyes, Yoongi looks down at you. Your cheeks are sucked in due to all the sucking you’re doing and wet slurping could be heard. Yoongi groans again because, damn - “You’re so pretty.” he grumbles, embarrassed because he didn’t mean to say it aloud and sound so damn whipped.

Your heart jolts at Yoongi’s compliment and it only causes you to suck harder, your jaw beginning to hurt but you refuse to stop because Yoongi (your weed dealer at that) called you pretty.

Yoongi pushes himself out of you - he’s unsure how he managed. His hand grasps your chin as he pants out a pathetic, “I don’t want to cum yet.”

There’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to Yoongi’s cock and it breaks when you slide your tongue over your lips.

“Okay.” you nod at Yoongi. “Maybe next time.”

Yoongi swallows and for a moment closes his eyes. You were a vixen - someone sent by the universe to fuck up his life. And most important, he was willing for you to do so.

“Y-yeah.” Yoongi mentally screams at himself for stuttering. “Next time.” He was known for his cool demeanor, a complete nonchalant person. You were breaking down walls he was certain wouldn’t bulge. 

You grin, small and cute, and nod back at him. “Next time you can return the favor, too.” you suggest. “Now I just want to ride you.”

Yoongi shudders. He’s certain now. The universe sent you indeed. It sent you to humble him, telling him that there was someone out there who could break down the walls he placed.

Your bedroom is far while the living room is a few feet away. You lift to your feet, waving at Yoongi to follow you. He does, awkwardly, lifting his pants just so they aren’t dragging across the ground.

You push Yoongi onto your couch, enjoying the sight of the man. “Condom?” you knit your brows.

“Right.” Yoongi mumbles, cheeks tinted red. He goes through his pockets and gets out his wallet. The condom falls out smoothly, a small, square black package.

You watch as Yoongi places the condom onto his cock and soon, you’re hovering above him. 

“Crotchless.” you giggle to Yoongi, who appears confused when you don’t remove the lingerie.

Yoongi gulps, nodding his head. You don’t allow him a chance to process, you’re already centering yourself and slowly engulfing him fully. 

Yoongi shudders at your warmth, even through the condom, of your pussy. He bites his lip, hands immediately on your hips as you begin to rise and fall. You’re so beautiful, his hands slide up your sides and then cup your breasts. With the lingerie you’re wearing, your breasts are seconds from falling out and he decides to speed up the process. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” Yoongi muffles himself between your breasts, large hands squeezing them. He kisses them, his tongue poking out to lick a nipple.

“Me, too.” you huff, your nails digging into the shirt of his shoulders. You imagined far too many times what Yoongi’s cock looked like and what it would look like inside of you.

Yoongi begins to thrust with you, his left holding the flesh of your ass. His tongue continues to twirl on your nipple in utter boyish bliss. He ponders while fucking you what you’d feel like raw - he imagines how tight you’d be around him, how wet and even warmer than you are now

“Shit…you’re so tight.” Yoongi kisses up your neck. “All for me.”

There’s a change in Yoongi’s tone of voice, no longer a stutter or a tint of uneasiness. You feel it in the way he begins to thrust harder, no longer allowing you to take control. So this was the Yoongi you knew (now know sexually) - cool, nonchalant and dominant.

With each thrust Yoongi hits a sweet spot and you moan with pleasure. His eyes continue to watch you contort with different emotions at what he’s doing. “You’re moaning like you’re in love, baby.”

You suck in a breath at the pet name. Fuck Yoongi, seriously, because you probably did look that way. But it wasn’t your fault - you don’t get fucked this good often and when you do well…

“You haven’t stopped moaning either.” you retort, somehow managing to find your words. You wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, your lips close to his ears. “Almost like you’re in love.”

Yoongi feels it - your tongue. It swipes at his ear teasingly and that’s all he needed to flip you onto your back, hitting the couch rapidly. He throws your legs over his shoulders and lifts his shirt a bit so he can continue to fuck into you. The position allows him to go even deeper, hitting that spot so sweet that you’re wailing.

“So wet. Wish I could feel you.” Yoongi says more to himself than you. There’s a creamy wetness wrapped around the condom, your pussy leaking with pleasure. 

You begin to pant, eyes snapping shut. You were beginning to think that maybe you were becoming dick drunk, because your next words surprise you just as it does him. “If you can pull out, you can take off the condom. Cum on me, too.”

“Shit, baby, really?” Yoongi halts his thrusts. Did he hear you correctly? “You can’t be that high.” he jokes.

“Fuck you.” you hiss low. “Just take it off and fuck me, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi does as he’s told, quickly getting up to undress his bottom half. He removes the condom and looks around.

“Just throw it-”

“I’m not throwing it on the ground.” Yoongi raises a brow. “I’m not a caveman.” He was far too respectful and sanitary for that,even if it was just for a moment.

You huff and nod, pointing behind you to the direction of the bathroom. 

Yoongi dashes down the hall, discards the condom, and rushes back. He kisses your cheek quickly, centering himself back at your whole.

Yoongi winces, then shudders.

You felt better than he’d imagined - warm, wet and still tight. He’s slow at first, trying to collect himself. Your legs are over his shoulder again, and he reaches inside of you deeper and deeper. 

“You look in love.” you joke, mocking him. Yoongi hasn’t looked away from your pussy since he started. 

“Maybe I am.” Yoongi’s nails dig into your thighs, his thrusts picking up the pace. The sweet sounds of your moans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy hit his ears. “You’re clenching around me so tight.” his eyes flicker to you, and he smirks. “Like you want me to cum in you.”

Yoongi pounds inside of you, each thrust aggressively deep. You don’t mean to say it - but Yoongi was playing a dangerous game as if you weren’t already high and horny.

“Maybe I do.”

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible. Indeed you were sent from the universe - he’s read about nymphs and you’re beginning to fit the description. 

“You do, huh?” Yoongi opens your legs and marvels at the sight of your pussy, his cock being milked with your essence lovingly. His thumbs place itself onto your clit and he rubs. “You’re just talking. Good weed and dick would do that to you.”

Cocky Yoongi is back and damn was it hot.

You opened your eyes to see Yoongi in the act. 

A mistake.

Yoongi’s looks completely feral, eyes dark with lust. His hair sticks to his forehead and his mouth is slightly agape, panting to himself. His eyes are fixed to your pussy and you decided to see just what he saw.

You were cumming now - Yoongi circling your clit just as rough as he was fucking you. His cock fits perfectly inside of you and watching the way he fucks you just sends you completely over the edge. 

“There you go, baby.” chuckles Yoongl raspily, witnessing you cum for him. “You look pretty cumming on my cock.”

A few more sloppy thrusts and Yoongi’s certain he’s near. He bites his lip, pulling out of you abruptly. His cum spills on your clit, warm and slippery.

You huff, shaking your head. “You managed to pull out.” you murmur.

Yoongi falls back against the couch to catch your breath. “Almost didn’t.” he admits with a laugh. “You hungry?”

You nod your lazily, the side effects of the weed coming to you. 

“I can get us something to eat.” Yoongi offers. “Free of charge. You don’t have to fuck me-”

You kick Yoongi, a rush of hot embarrassment running through you, but all the man does is laugh, gummy smile on full display.

#btswritersclub #bangtan smut #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bts smut #trivia-yandere #bangtanwritershq #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #suga smut #suga x reader #Dilemma #trivia-yandere’s valentine’s day masterlist

[sttoru]

THE MORNING AFTER

༄ sypnosis. you wake up to your husband cooking breakfast, though it’s quickly left burning when your hubby decides to give you some ‘morning affection’.

༄ note. my first ever fic on this new account :< i forgot how to write after a while of not writing so bear with me, please.

༄ tags. husband!toji x wife!reader. female reader. very suggestive/nsfw i guess but no real action?. use of nicknames such as pretty, doll.

it was a peaceful saturday morning and the sun streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across your bedroom. you instantly notice the delicious aroma of breakfast in the air once you fully regained your consciousness.

“toji?” your husband’s name is always the first thing that leaves your lips in the early mornings and the last thing you utter before you go to bed.

sometimes his voice greets you back, at other times the deafening silence does instead. you turn your head towards his side of the bed and—as expected—the space was empty.

“ugh,” a groan escapes your lips as you reluctantly stand up to find out where the smell came from. realising that you were still pretty much naked from the night before, you lazily decide to just wrap a blanket around your body.

you follow the enticing smell that lingered throughout your entire apartment which was at its strongest once you arrived at the kitchen. to your great surprise, you find your husband standing by the stove, cooking breakfast.

toji was in only his boxers which left the rest of his body exposed to your view. his back was facing you, giving you a proper look at the multiple red scratch marks on his skin.

probably from the previous night.

“god.. damn.” the words slipped out of your mouth before you even realised. how could they not, when you’ve been greeted with such a mouth-watering view in the kitchen—excluding the actual food toji’s been cooking.

a low and almost groggy chuckle escaped your husband’s throat at your choice of words this morning.

toji didn’t turn around to face you, yet you knew him well enough to guess the expression he had; a smug one. one that beamed of confidence and cockiness.

“mornin’.” the dark haired man eventually spoke, flipping the gold brown pancake on the other side before turning around to greet you.

toji’s eyes immediately wandered all over your body. even though the blanket hid most of your skin, it most definitely did accentuate your figure.

“my eyes are up here, toji.” you chuckle softly, though that cheeky comment only gained a small knowing ‘mhm,’ from your husband. toji didn’t avert his eyes once. he was shameless; that much even he can admit.

“c’mere, pretty.” toji murmurs, his voice almost a low purr as he reaches out for you.

your husband wasted absolutely no time into putting his hands on your waist. he pressed his body against yours while placing his lips on the bare skin of your shoulders.

“look at you,” toji coos as his calloused hands rub up and down your sides ever so gently, “you’re even more irresistible when you’re all sleepy-eyed like this.”

these types of mornings were rare since toji usually leaves early to take care of another job. not that you were complaining about this— it was better than to wake up in an empty home where your only company was yourself.

“oh stop it, honey. i always look awful in the morning.”

that got you a gentle flick against your forehead. “tsk tsk, don’t ya say that about my favourite girl.” toji scolds you playfully while leaving soft kisses all over your shoulder.

toji could never get enough of this and he never wants to. your smell, your presence, your warmth, your body— you were made to be held like this. to be held and loved by him.

his emerald green eyes look down at the top of your head. even without seeing your face (since you never miss upon the opportunity of burying it against his chest whenever you hug), toji could tell that you were smiling.

“look at me, doll.” toji’s voice was hushed as he spoke.

you did as told and lifted your head up, looking up into toji’s eyes. his hand immediately found its way onto your cheek and his thumb gently rubbed over the skin.

“good girl.”

toji leaned in to press a deep kiss on your parted lips. it was a quick yet firm one— one that left you craving for more. your husband has always had that effect on you.

the two of you slightly pull back, however you were still close enough to feel your lips brush against one another with each small movement.

“c’mon. give me one more.” toji mutters under his breath. you hadn’t even had the chance to react to that request before you felt his lips crash against yours again.

his hands slowly moved across the blanket you had wrapped around your body, trying to find any gaps in the fabric to make their way beneath it.

“mm, cold.” you mumble against toji’s lips once his hands successfully found a way underneath the blanket.

toji only smirked in response and let his rough hands explore every inch of exposed skin he could touch beneath the barrier of fabric. his fingers teased you all over; going from slightly brushing against the swell of your breasts to playing with the plump flesh of your ass.

toji didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots. after all, he loves teasing you to the point that you beg him for it with that pretty voice of yours.

you swallow your own saliva, slightly pulling back from his lips with a flustered expression on your face. “h- honey,” any further words were interrupted by a quiet “shh,” from him.

“no need for words,” toji whispers against your lips before moving them away to leave small and ticklish kisses against your neck, “just focus on me, yeah?”

you could feel his tongue glide against a small spot on your skin before toji sucked on it slightly. he could feel you shiver in his arms from the feeling and that’s exactly the reaction he needed.

before your brain could register it, your husband picked you up effortlessly and placed you on the kitchen counter. he stood between your legs and his hands moved to hold onto your bare thighs.

toji pulled back a bit just to be able to see you sit there in front of him, caged between him and the kitchen wall. the way you bit your lip ever so slightly and the way the thin blanket barely covered anything of your body anymore—

god, you knew just how to drive him absolutely wild and he loved it.

“you knew damn well this’d happen,” toji whispers in a low tone. his sultry voice sent a shiver down your spine, “walkin’ in here with only a blanket covering your body, huh?”

a deep grunt left toji’s throat once he felt your fingertips run over the scratch marks on his back that you had left the night before. it was like you were silently teasing him as well.

toji let his lips wander all over the skin of your neck before going back to kiss your soft lips once again. this time he let his tongue mingle with yours, letting your salivas mix.

this went on for quite a while before your husband finally pulled back to catch his breath. your lips were covered in his saliva, causing them to glimmer underneath the sunlight seeping into the kitchen.

the sight was one that could get any man hard and your husband was no exception. you could see it in his half-lidded eyes; the obvious lust and desire.

it was also then that you snapped back to reality. the smell of something burning filled your nostrils. you cock your head to the right and see the pancakes burning on the pan.

“ah, crap.” you curse and try to reach out for the knobs to turn the stove off.

toji’s fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist and restrained you from doing so. he guided your hand back to its place on his shoulder.

“told ya to focus on me, doll.”

you look at the burnt pancake and then back to your husband, “b-but.. the food.”

toji chuckles at your innocent remark. in his opinion, that should be the last of your worries at the moment.

“that ain’t stoppin’ me from getting my breakfast,” he replies while he squeezes the flesh of your thighs gently with both hands,

“now. spread your legs f’me.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you

[misshoneyimhome]

Say My Name, Say My Name I Quinn Hughes 🖋️🌺

Requested? Yes / No

Summary; Based on the Tik Tok trend, calling your boyfriend “husband”

Tropes & warnings; established relationship; Tik Tok trend; fluff, marriage proposal; no warnings;

Other notes: For the second story of this TikTok trend, I've challenged myself with writing for Quinn Hughes for the first time 😊 To be honest, I didn't know much about him to fully capture his character, however, this is pretty much how sweet I imagine this boy to be 🤭🤍 Since I had a few different ideas of how to approach the request, this turned out to be nothing but pure fluff 🌺🥂

I hope you enjoy it 🌷🐰

Word count; 1.6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

As the sun dipped low, casting a gentle glow over the bustling streets of Vancouver, you strolled alongside your boyfriend, Quinn Hughes. The city buzzed with its usual activity, providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation on this typical Thursday evening. And with the promise of a hockey-free weekend on the horizon, a mischievous idea had crept into your mind – sparked by a popular TikTok challenge that had been gaining traction online.

In recent weeks, you'd seen numerous videos of people teasingly calling their boyfriends "husbands," while recording their partners' bewildered reactions for entertainment. And intrigued by the trend, you couldn't resist the urge to try it out with Quinn.

After nearly three years of shared laughter and cherished moments in your relationship, you were confident that Quinn would find the prank amusing, perhaps even earning a reaction with a hint of panic. So, with a playful glint in your eye, you had naturally shared your plan with your closest friend, enlisting her help in pulling off the light-hearted prank.

As you’d proposed the idea, your friend, always up for TikTok trends, had eagerly agreed to assist. You’d decided on arranging a double date, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, planning for you to execute the prank while she would discreetly film Quinn's reaction.

So, as you sat in a cosy, almost half-empty restaurant later that Thursday evening, the weight of your impending prank began to settle in. Excitement and nerves mingled in your chest, your fingers tapping restlessly on the tabletop as you waited for the perfect moment to put your plan into action.

And finally, the moment arrived, hanging in the air with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As the waiter approached to take your orders, a surge of anxious energy coursed through you, your heart racing. Yet, with practiced ease, you smoothly transitioned into the pivotal moment. "And for my husband," you said, injecting a playful tone into your voice, "he'll have a glass of ice water and the pasta Bolognese."

The words hung in the air, a silent challenge to fate, while your best friend discreetly positioned her phone, ready to capture Quinn's genuine reaction.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Quinn's gaze shifted towards you, his expression a fleeting mix of surprise and curiosity. "Your what?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet you persisted, ignoring the amusement threatening your facade of confidence.

In that suspended moment, Quinn's initial reaction was genuine astonishment, his eyes widening in disbelief before a soft chuckle broke the tension like a gentle wave against the shore. 

And as the waiter then walked away following taking all orders, he left behind echoes of laughter. Quinn then leaned closer towards you; his tone laced with mock seriousness. "Husband, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk on his lips. "Guess I'll need to update my resume."

It hadn’t entirely been the shocked reaction you’d hoped for, yet you still found the situation undeniably amusing. Confessing the inspiration behind your jest, laughter filled the air. And as the night wore on, your little act slowly faded in the background.

However, unbeknownst to you, the innocent prank had sparked an idea in Quinn's mind.

Although he hadn’t exactly expected to consider such a significant step already at the age of 24, the notion lingered, intriguing and compelling. As the eldest among his brothers and in his most serious relationship yet, Quinn had pondered the concept for some time. He’d even briefly sought advice from his closest teammates on how to broach the subject, as he’d realised life was too short to wait for the perfect moment.

So, as he sat beside you, enveloped in shared laughter, he felt a newfound determination. With quiet resolve and a heart full of affection, he began laying the groundwork for a significant occasion, one that would hopefully change your relationship for the better.

A little over a week later, with the memory of your playful prank still fresh in his mind, Quinn found himself beyond excited and content about the idea. With determination coursing through him and a ring burning a silent promise in his pocket, he’d devised a plan.

His aim was to catch you off guard, to make the moment as unexpected as possible. And having noticed how you had emphasised the prank was nothing but a joke, he guessed your mind hadn’t dwelled on such matters. Which made it the perfect opportunity.

So, returning to the very same restaurant Saturday evening where the idea had originated, Quinn carefully arranged the setting for the action. Despite the absence of a best friend discreetly recording the scene, the familiar ambiance of the restaurant's softly lit interior and the intimate corner table added a serene touch to the occasion. So with a steady hand and a heart brimming with love, Quinn recreated the scene.

As the waiter approached to take your orders, he took a deep breath, and with a voice filled with emotion, he echoed your words from days prior, "And for my wife, she'll have a glass of Champagne along with some water and the cheese, spinach ravioli, please."

Your eyes widened a little in slight disbelief as the words lingered in the air, blending with the gentle buzz of conversation around you, and a chuckle escaped your lips of amusement at Quinn's unexpected play. You simply couldn’t help but laugh at the joke and how he replicated your playful tease from the other night with such precision.

“Wife, huh?” You chuckled lightly. “Guess I deserved that one - though I do enjoy the sound of it.”

However, this time, it wasn't a prank. As the waiter departed, leaving behind a soft smile, your eyes met with Quinn’s, flashing him an entertained smile. Yet there was a seriousness in your boyfriend’s expression, a rare sight outside of the intensity of a hockey match, and a curious furrow creased your brow as you couldn’t decipher his thoughts. But before you could ask him what was on his mind, Quinn gently rose from his seat, moving with deliberate grace to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you say that ‘cause…”

You shifted in your seat to face him, the air crackled with anticipation as he then slowly dropped to one knee, the world around you fading into insignificance, leaving only the man you loved, poised before you with a vulnerability that stole your breath away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Quinn gently took out the little velvet box from his pocket, his brown eyes shining with an intensity that mirrored his deep emotions. 

“Y/n," he softly began. "I know you said it as a joke the other night, but... truth be told, it stuck with me. And I realised that… I do want to be your called husband. You mean everything to me. Without you, I'd be lost – even though I don't tell you enough, you make my every day brighter. I can't even begin to thank you enough for your endless support, for putting up with me and my career every single day. You never ask for anything, and yet you give so much love. I love you so so much, and I just can't imagine a future without you in it..."

With every heartfelt confession, your breath hitched in your throat, your mind swirling with the weight of his sentiments. Emotions surged within you, threatening to overflow as Quinn exposed his soul, sharing his fears and dreams for your future together.

And then came the question, hanging in the air like a fragile promise—a question that held the power to shape your lives forever.

"Y/n, will you marry me?"

It felt surreal, like a dream woven from the threads of your deepest desires and fondest hopes. Quinn on his knee before you, his vulnerability a testament to the depth of his love. And in that moment, tears glistening in your eyes, and a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, there was only one right answer.

Though struggling to find the words, you willed your lips to move and your throat to vocalise the response.

"Yes... Quinn, of course," you replied with excitement, the sound of soft applauses rippling through the restaurant. And with a deep relieved sigh, and a satisfied smile illuminating his face, Quinn rose from his kneeling position, meeting you in a deep, heartfelt kiss. 

Sealing the engagement your lips met with nothing but devotion, the world around you slowly dissolving, before breaking apart. Quinn's excitement was nothing short of palpable, his smile radiant as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, and he couldn’t deny that this felt better than any hockey match win. Perhaps besides winning the Stanley Cup. 

It was truly a beautiful ring. The diamond's shimmer mirrored the twinkle in his eyes as you admired the ring's delicate intricacies. And with a content smile, you shared another quick kiss before Quinn returned to his seat, and the waiter poured champagne to mark the occasion.

Raising your glasses in a toast, you again sealed the engagement with a clink, the bubbles dancing against your lips like promises of a future filled with love and joy. This moment was everything you had ever dreamed of. Though it had begun with a playful joke, it perfectly captured the essence of your relationship—full of laughter, love, and shared moments of joy.

And with your hands gently intertwined on the table, both admiring the new addition to your finger, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like I really do need to update my resume," you playfully remarked, echoing Quinn's words from the other night.

And in response, your fiancé merely chuckled, his eyes brimming with adoration as he kissed your hand and held your gaze with unwavering affection. "Yes, I suppose you’ll have to," he smiled, his voice filled with promise and a love that knew no bounds.

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #nhl imagine

[forever-rogue]

it's easy fallin' in love with you

AN | Nothing much to see here, just the night you meet Steve Harrington and fall in love. 💕

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That guy’s been staring at you all night,” Allie nudged your arm and subtly nodded her head across the crowded bar. You tried to inconspicuously follow her gaze and found yourself looking at the very man that had caught your eye from the moment you’d arrived, “he’s totally checking you out.”

“He’s cute,” you whispered into her ear. She looked him over and tutted slightly, “don’t be like that!”

“He’s fine,” she offered you a wolfish smile, “but he’s totally your type. Go and talk to him!”

“I shouldn’t,” you insisted softly, although you really wanted to. The boy - man - was tall and lithe with golden sun kissed skin and a glorious head of hair. He was handsome in a traditional, yet untraditional way, and well dressed to boot. You could see that his eyes, even from a distance, were a pretty honey brown. When he caught you looking at him, he raised his hand in a small little half wave before offering a lopsided grin, “I really shouldn’t.”

“You really should,” she insisted, nudging you in his direction, “whats the worst that could happen?”

“He could break my heart,” you whispered, starting at your shoes on the sticky bar floor, “it’s stupid. He probably really can’t even see me properly. He’d be disappointed so why bother, you know?”

“Hi,” you froze at the sound of the voice and turned your gaze up to the pretty boy. He was smiling prettily, all teeth and plush lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest, as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, staring at him wordlessly, “I’m Steve.”

“Hi Steve,” Allie wrapped her arm around your shoulders and grinned widely at him. She offered him your name as you felt your entire face warming up, “my lovely friend here has been talking about you all night. She thinks you’re super cute.”

“Allie,” you hissed sharply as you came to your senses. You were going to kill her at the first opportunity you had, “stop.”

“Love you,” she whispered softly with a kiss to your cheek as she pushed you towards him, “I’ve gotta go. Buh-bye!”

You watched her go with a helpless expression, fully aware that Steve was watching you intently. Sighing softly you looked back at him, “sorry about her, she’s…a lot.”

“No worries,” he had such an easy going manner about him, “if it’s easy consolation, I think you’re super cute too.”

“Oh, I-I…” you weren’t even sure what to say or do. It had been a long time since anyone had caught your eye and even longer since someone had so openly shown you so much interest, “do you…want to grab a drink?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, “I do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you were in a small, cozy booth towards the back of the bar, the lights low and only the smallest bit of space between the two of you. When you’d grabbed your drinks, he’d easily guessed your drink of choice and had beaten you to paying. Since then, you’d been engrossed in conversation, your drinks half consumed but long forgotten.

In the past you’d need a large number of drinks in order to make through almost any date, but you didn’t feel like that was necessary with Steve. He was so easy to talk to and get along with that it was almost scary. But you found yourself so drawn to him that it felt like you’d been destined to meet each other. You had never really believed in any of that before, but you weren’t going to question it either - not tonight, not when everything felt so good and so right.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked after a while, catching you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, not entirely against the idea. 

“Now? This late?” you asked and he laughed - a warm, pretty sound that made your heart beat a little faster, “what are we going to do?”

This was the point where you half expected him to suggest going back to his place. One night stands weren’t really your thing; part of you was already sad to let him down. He might have sensed what you were thinking and feeling because he quickly shook his head, “no - no. Not that. I don’t want-”

“Oh,”

“No, I mean I do,” he groaned as he ran his hands through his thick, luscious hair, “respectfully I do and would absolutely do that, but I have something different in mind.”

You were giggling now, a pretty sound that Steve thoroughly enjoyed. You grabbed your drink and finished off the rest before leaning closer towards him, “what did you have in mind then?”

“Have you ever done karaoke before?” he had a mischievous look on his face as your mouth dropped open. That was definitely not on your bingo card for the evening; then again, neither had meeting Steve. 

“Surprisingly not,” you sat back and shook your head in amusement, “are we going to do karaoke, Steve?”

“We’re going to do karaoke. What do you say?” You slid out of the booth and held out your hand to him, motioning your head towards the door. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” but you already knew that you were going to enjoy this night. He was staring at you as though you had hung the stars and the moon. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later your sides were sore from laughing too much and your face hurt from smiling too much. The two of you had just done a round of loud, fun karaoke, picking the worst possible songs for both of your voices. But none of that mattered - you were having too much fun to think about anything else. Plus, everyone around you was either also taking part of the bad karaoke or a few drinks in and couldn’t tell the difference between actual talent and the worst thing they’d ever heard. 

Steve had helped you off the stage, his frame warm around yours. He looked at you, sweaty and tousled but still wickedly handsome. It was hard to hear over the thump of the music and the half-drunk singing in the background so you leaned into his space, “that was so much fun.”

You took advantage of the moment and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks flushed even redder than before, “have you ever gone to the beach at midnight?”

“No,” your eyes grew wide as he started towards the exit, taking your hand in his, “Steve. Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he insisted in a way that made you feel warm and hopeful but also so alive. You nodded eagerly and let him take the lead, pulling you through the thick throng of people and back into the chill of the evening air. As soon as he noticed you shivering slightly, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, “that should be better.”

“Thank you,” you grinned at him. It wasn’t like you to just go with a man you’d just met and do all of these things with them. But this wasn’t just any sort of ordinary night and Steve didn’t feel like any sort of guy, “let’s go to the beach then!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got there, it was late and it was peaceful and there weren’t many people out. The beaches of Chicago weren’t a huge attraction this late at night. You walked around the waterline and he playfully threatened to throw you into the water, and pretended to run away from him. The ease with which the two of you got along was magical. Eventually, the two of you found a spot in the sand and sat in peaceful, contemplative silence. 

“I’ve never really watched a sunrise like this before,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting in the sand, feet buried, as you watched the sun slowly start to rise in the distance. The sun was turning from inky blues to pretty pinks and purples and eventually to gold and orange, “it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching for your hand and taking it in his, and giving it a gentle squeeze, “it is. I like coming out here sometimes because it’s so quiet and peaceful. Almost no one else is awake.”

“As much as I like sleeping in, I could get used to this sometimes,” you stifled a yawn as you watched the waves gently lap and break in the distance. You felt your tummy rumble, and a brilliant idea popped up in your mind, “do you want to get breakfast?”

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise, the corners of his mouth perking up in a small smile, “starving. What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s this little hole in the wall diner that I love. They’ve got the best pancakes and eggs in the city easily and its one of those secrets you have to share with people,” you felt silly getting so excited about food, diner food at that, but judging from the look on Steve’s face, you had nothing to worry about, “and I would love to let you in on this well kept secret.”

“Consider me intrigued, hungry, and honored,” there was a wickedly happy glint in his eye as he slowly stood up and brushed the sand bits off himself. Helped you to your feet and proceeded to dust you off without you even asking or anything. That little bit made your heart practically flutter with happiness, “just give me directions and we’re on the way, baby.”

You looked at him, all sleepy and starry eyed with a saccharine smile, “I like you, Steve Harrington. It feels like I’ve known you my entire life.”

“I like you too,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing a pretty pastel pink, “I feel like you’ve always been here.”

The two of you looked at each other for a few moments before he gently took your face in his hands and kissed you, slow and deep. You liked kissing him; it felt familiar and new all at once. Plus, you know, he was an excellent kisser which didn’t hurt anything.

“If that’s how you feel about me now,” you teased when he pulled away, shy and bashful, “wait until try the pancakes - you’ll love me then.”

“I believe you,” and you believed in what he was saying, “let’s go!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So?” you asked in between bites of sweet, delicious fluffy pancakes, “what do you think?”

Steve had just stuffed a huge bite into his own mouth but made a small sound of content. You eaned back in your seat with a small, satisfied expression on your face. It was still early in the morning and there were only a few customers in the diner besides the two of you. The waitress had been loud, cheery, and kind and made you feel so at home and comfortable.

“Delicious,” he agreed as he swallowed the bite, “you definitely weren’t lying.”

“That’s one thing I don’t do,” you promised, “I don’t lie.”

“Tell me more,” he took a sip of the coffee and looked at you eagerly, “tell me everything about you. I want to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirmed, “I want to know it all.”

“How much time you got?” you were joking, but you knew that he was sincere in his questioning. 

“For you? All the time in the world,” his smile was winning, big and pretty and you wanted to see it for the rest of your days. 

Was it possible to be in love with the man that had been a total stranger at the start of evening? Because you were pretty sure that had just happened.

“Okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep the smile from breaking your face, “only if you promise to tell me everything about you.”

“Deal.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are you thinking about, huh?” Steve came back into the living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in hands, topped off with mini marshmallows. He set them on the coffee table before sitting back down next to you. You leaned into him and leaned your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. 

“Nothing much,” you whispered softly, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek, “just thinking about the night we met.”

He chuckled fondly, giving you a small squeeze, “it feels like it was just yesterday sometimes. Other times it felt like it was a hundred years. That was a good night.”

“Yeah, it really was,” you agreed, “good thing Allie was so…loud and obnoxious or we might have ever met.”

“Maybe not that night,” Steve shifted so he could properly look at you, “but we’d have met one way or another. I’m sure of that.”

“Yeah?” your smile stretched across your entire face as you beamed at him. He gently put his hands on the side of your face, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, “I’m so in love with you, Steve Harrington.”

“And I’m so in-”

“Daddy,” you heard the sound of her small, soft voice before you heard her small footsteps or saw her come into view, “Mama.”

“Hey Busy Miss Lizzy,” you held out your arms to her and she padded her way over, clutching onto her favorite stuffed dog, “what are you doing up, baby?”

She clambered her way onto the couch, and made herself comfortable in Steve’s lap, “I couldn’t sleep. I had a bad dream.”

In her little voice it sounded more like a bad dweam, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to laugh. You stroked her chubby little sweet as Steve kissed the top of her curls, “do you want to stay with us for a little bit?”

“Yes,” she looked between you and Steve with a hopeful little look, “please.”

“C’mon,” you grabbed the blanket at the end of the couch and draped it over the three of you, “that’s better. You two comfy?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed in content, happy to be surrounded by his favorite girls, “perfect.”

“Me too,” Lizzy grinned happily, displaying her little gap toothed grin, “can I have some hot chocolate?”

You exchanged a look with Steve before laughing softly. 

You hadn’t imagined any of this the night you’d met him entirely by chance. But, you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #st

[hyuckmov]

haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby   read part 2 here <3

'cause he's so pretty when he goes down on me gold-skinned, eager baby 

haechan x fem!reader 7.2k, smut, minors dni, a bit of fluff, basically haechan loves your boobs. not proofread i was too excited. content: chest/boobs/nipples fixation if i ever seen one, consensual somnophilia but not really because one of them is awake, a little bit of teasing and manipulating i guess, unprotected sex, masturbating with a bra (m), shower sex, titty fucking, a little mention of dumbification, dom-ish haechan turned desperate needy (and dare i say, a little bit subby...?) haechan...ngl reader doesn't get to cum a lot this is mostly about haechan a/n: thank you all for waiting i really hope this lives up to your expectations or it's at least a little hot until the call with mark, you hadn’t really noticed at all. 

“dude he’s like…fucking obsessed with your boobs.” mark insists. over video-call, there’s a slight lag between his voice and his actions, but there’s no mistaking the sincerity on his face. 

“are you sure?” you ask, skeptically. “he’s never mentioned it to me at all.” 

mark laughs. “he said he doesn’t want to seem like a perv, so he never brings it up with you.” tilting his head to the side, “i guess that’s why he keeps telling me about it. you should do something about it for your anniversary or something.” 

haechan was a careful boyfriend. you appreciated the way his hands never lingered excessively on your waist even as he was a touchy person. you appreciated how, even if you had just come out from your shower in your towel — hair dripping wet, the material barely skimming the tops of your thighs, he kept his voice as steady as possible while handing you a robe. you appreciated the effort it took for him to keep his palms planted firmly on the bed above your head even as he made love to you. even as you grabbed at him incessantly, his fingers would go white, twisting in the sheets as he held himself back. 

and yet, something in you wanted to see him lose control completely. 

“yeah,” you breathe out, slowly. “i should.” 

happy anniversary, haechan. 

x

you start out small. you just need to see if mark might be onto something. 

“haechan, what should i wear to dinner?” 

haechan had been hyping up this date night for weeks and weeks. you know he researched the restaurant extensively, reading guides and blog posts about which wine to pair with each course. and for the past 30 minutes while you got ready, he sat patiently in the living room on his phone, sitting carefully so his button down shirt and slacks didn’t wrinkle. it was one of the things you found most endearing about him — how much he wanted things to be perfect even as the two of you got close to your second year of being a couple. you just wanted things to be perfect for him too. 

now, at your question, he wanders into your room, an easy smile on his face already. crossing over to where you stand in front of your mirror, he kisses your cheek and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying from side to side. 

“that looks good, baby,” he says, sincerely. “you wanna head out now?”

“wait,” you untangle yourself from him and he steps away politely. “i’ll give you another option.” 

grabbing at the hem of your black turtleneck, a purposefully high collared choice, you tug it off you as quick as you could. you take a quick glance at the mirror, and sure enough haechan has averted his eyes at the prospect of seeing you topless. staring resolutely at the floor, you think you can almost see a red begin to tint his cheeks. 

“tell me when you’re done,” he mumbles, and you want to tilt his head up and make him look at you in the nice lacy bra you’d picked out, but you hold back. you promised you were going to start with something more subtle. 

and so you pull on a tight cropped cardigan with a low dipping neckline — one that hugs and accentuates your chest really nicely. doing up the buttons as quickly as you could, making sure it was just the right tightness, you tap him on the shoulder. 

“done.” 

observing him closely through the mirror, you see how his eyes jump instinctively to your chest, and then to your face, before they gravitate downwards again and settle into what is certainly a stare. almost as if he couldn’t resist. 

and were you imagining things, or was he breathing a little harder than before?

“haechan?” you prompt, and you bite back a smile when you see him jolt a little out of his daze, blinking rapidly. “thoughts?” 

“this one,” he blurts out. almost comically with how he can’t take his eyes off you, he darts out his tongue to wet his lips before repeating himself. “this one…it’s…you…” he swallows. “you should wear this one to dinner.” 

“it’s not too tight?” frowning exaggeratedly, you adjust your bra such that your boobs shift around a little under the top, squeezing them together. 

haechan hesitates. “actually…”, fuck he thinks to himself. because if you wear this to the restaurant, everyone will be able to see you. and he’ll be forced to pretend not to notice all throughout the meal. how the fuck, he thinks, as he watches you adjust your top again, am i supposed to think about wine pairings now?

“yes?” you revel in the way his eyes have glazed over entirely. 

“the first top.” he nods, almost as if convincing himself. “the turtleneck’s good.”

“why?” 

pause. “black looks better on you.” he slots his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his toes. “if you’re ready i’ll get the door.” 

“okay, you go on first.” you think you see relief on his face as he speedwalks out the door. 

twirling on the spot, thanking your lucky stars for mark’s tip-off, you swap out your black cardigan in exchange for the turtleneck, and head out to join your boyfriend at the doorway. 

x

it was exciting — thinking of ways to test haechan, little by little. it wasn’t that he wasn’t a passionate boyfriend, or that he was too shy. he had quite the dirty mouth if the atmosphere ever called for it, and he never attempted to hide his sounds of pleasure if you felt particularly good wrapped around him. but there was no denying that some part of him was always in control. 

because there was one version of haechan, who was something like this: 

“haechan?” 

he made a soft sound, turning to look at you from where you were seated on the other end of the couch. nights like these — with the television light illuminating your faces, haechan cozy and warm in an hoodie and sweatpants, you in one of his old shirts, with just enough of your bodies touching to give each other space and affection, — these were the nights you always felt a little more touch-starved than usual. and your boyfriend was just an arm’s length away, ready to love you in any way you ask.  

“baby?” 

you extend your arms out, reaching for him. “kisses please.” 

smiling, he reaches out and gently pulls you into his lap. your face turned towards him, the two of you beam at each other as haechan cups your face tenderly. dipping his head down so your noses touch, he goes a little cross-eyed as he basks in the feeling of your skin against his, his gaze shining with adoration. 

“okay,” he whispers, as he captures your lips in a sweet, patient, kiss. and another. and another, eyes fluttering shut to focus on the feeling, his hands never moving from the way he holds your face. afterwards, he wraps you in your arms so you can rest your head against his chest, and each time you raise your head up he kisses you indulgently. 

and when, as this progresses, your hands begin to wander purposefully to the strings of his sweatpants, he swats them away softly – the tiniest bit of flush on his cheeks as his heartbeat quickens, flustered.

“just kissing, baby,” he presses his lips on your forehead to emphasise his point. “just want to be close to you.” 

and then there was -

“haechan,” you whine. 

his head thrown back, he at least makes the effort to focus his eyes on you. but his body doesn’t stop moving, his grip on your waist bruising as he fucks up into you with more fervor. 

“yeah?” he mumbles. 

“kiss me?” 

his head snaps to you, and the side of his mouth quirks up. “hold that thought.” 

and then he’s flipping the two of you over. still inside you, he hikes your legs up and wraps them around his waist. your arms go to his shoulders instinctively, while his move upwards to cage you in. and then he goes still. 

“beg for it.” looking way too pleased with himself, he swivels his hips in slow motions, watching your face carefully to find your sweet spot, the angle that will drive you insane. he knows when he’s found it: your body shudders, your nails dig into his back and he hisses with pain. 

“haechan, please…” you whine, as he starts to pull out of you, only to slam right into that one spot inside you that makes you see stars. surrendering yourself to him, you ramble on, “fuck, please, touch me, please…” 

“what did you say, princess?” he buries his face in your neck, the way you squeeze around him and the obscene sounds of how wet you are beginning to get to him, as he begins to chase his own high. 

his hot breath on your neck, his lips brushing against skin but never sucking, his hands hovering beside you but not touching. 

control. boundaries. lines which you would like to see blurred, and crossed. 

x

you knew he would be having a long day at work. he had told you the exact timings of his most important meetings, his lunch break, consults with clients, and then the time and duration of his less important meetings. 

so nothing was a mistake when you sent him the photo of you at 3.45pm sharp, right at the last 15 minutes of his least important meeting of the day. 

because you were nothing if not considerate. 

haechan had been bored, sitting in his swivel chair, trying to maintain eye contact with the zoom conference but also scrolling on his phone when the investors rambled on for just a little too long. 

y/n: image

thinking little of it, maybe you needed an opinion on an outfit, he glanced at his laptop one more time before unlocking his phone and opening his chat with you. 

and he freezes. 

because on the screen, is a photo of you. specifically, from the waist up, wearing one of his dress shirts, unbuttoned almost all the way and pushed open so he could see the very pretty, very lacy, barely-there bra you were wearing. one that was practically transparent with its mesh and lace, your nipples in stiff peaks poking out through the material. the sizing of the flimsy bra making your breasts look even fuller, even softer, than usual. 

fuck. 

he stares at your photo, lips slightly parted. he swallows. he swallows again. embarrassingly, his slacks begin to feel a little tight. fingers uncoordinated and slow, he types out the only response he can think of. 

haechan: hi 

haechan: did you send this to the wrong person? 

while he waits for your response, he clicks back to the photo. he can’t help it, what if you decide to unsend it? the thought flits through his mind, and hurriedly, he goes to save it just in case it didn’t download to his phone. 

y/n: babe you’re my boyfriend who else would i send this too? 

haechan: oh 

haechan: right

he can’t help it. the meeting gone straight from his mind, and your conversation with him slowly making less and less sense, the only thing he can think of doing is zooming in on the photo. deep down, he’s always been obsessed with your chest, but he always felt that it was a weird thing to bring up. you’ve never expressed a fixation with any particular body part of his, and he feels wrong for all the times he sneaks glances at you: be it from over your top, or when you’re midway through changing. he would never dream of asking to touch, but god he wants to. he doesn’t even know what he wants to do with your boobs other than to see, and to touch. and here you are, handing him his first opportunity to act on the former. 

so he stares, and he stares. wildly he considers setting this photo as his homescreen. when the meeting ends, he slams his laptop quickly shut. 

he was going to have to think of a way to pretend this didn’t affect him the way it did. 

x

“needed you all day, baby,” he groaned. haechan had just gotten home, spent about 5 minutes upholding the facade that he could spend a quiet evening just chatting with you after the events of the day, before he’d finally had enough and tugged you into his lap to suck on your tongue. gasping, his body shivering with need, he separated from you just long enough to make out the words “need you. right now”.

indulging him, you kissed him back just as fiercely. “hold on,” you say, as you clamber up from the couch and cross over to the dining table. teasingly, you place a hand on the tabletop, leaning on it as you smile. 

“bend me over?” 

still slumped into his seat, haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek in thought. “why don’t you show me how you want it first?” he challenges.

diligently, you bend yourself over the edge of the table, propping yourself up on your elbows. wiggling your ass a few times in the air, and trying to ignore the fear that he’ll laugh at you, you look over at him expectantly, doing everything but batting your lashes. 

haechan does laugh at you, but not in literal amusement. the dark sound of derision he lets out shoots straight to your core, as he gets up almost lazily, strolling over to you. 

“baby wants it from the back?” 

standing behind you, he runs his fingertips down your spine, stroking your back. it would almost be a tender action if not for the fact that he takes his hand away only to place it between your spread legs. 

sliding your pants together with your panties down your legs, he continues to kiss your shoulders as he begins running his fingers up and down your slit, eliciting a whine from you. 

“haechan…please don’t tease,” you plead, as he places a gentle pressure at your clit. “need you so bad too.” 

“shhh…” he coos, continuing to make soft clicking noises as he circles his digits around your entrance. “i’ll take care of you. just need to stretch you out first, okay?” 

slowly, he scissors his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your walls. wet sounds fill the still air in the kitchen, mixed with your whispers and his continued efforts to comfort you the best he knew how. losing yourself in pleasure, the ache in your belly begins to build, your legs shaking as your hips begin to buck against him subconsciously. 

“getting excited?” he teases, removing his hands from your core. you whine, a high and embarrassing sound, but you can’t bring yourself to care beyond the disappointment at how empty it feels without his warmth. 

“wait for me, princess.” you hear the sound of haechan fumbling with his belt, the clink of it hitting the floor. and then, you feel something thick and heavy press between your legs, stroking up and down your soaked slit. “first time trying this for me too,” he mumbles, and in the cloudy haze of your mind you register that this truly was the first time haechan was fucking you from the back. 

pulling your hips towards him with a slight roughness, he eases into you. the stretch is delicious, the new angle seemingly allowing him to go deeper, and he lets out a low groan at how your walls seem to suck him in. he thrusts a few times experimentally, making you gasp. which in turn makes him still.

‘everything okay, baby?” 

“yes,” you breathe. when he still doesn’t move, you wiggle your hips again, trying to squeeze around him. “please, please haechan i need you to move-” 

“i got you.” rolling his hips with a slow and steady pace, haechan holds your sides gently. but something about it feels off to even you: there’s something not quite right with the way he’s almost quiet, the desperation that started out this entire night seemingly evaporated. 

haechan continues for only a minute more before he pulls out. 

“i’m sorry, but fuck this,” he all but spits. grabbing your hips roughly, which makes you yelp in surprise, he flips you over and pushes you further up the tabletop. you look up at him — his hair mussed up, his chest heaving, a new aggression to him as he pushes your shirt up to expose your chest. 

bingo. 

hiking your legs up so they hook around his waist, he rams back into you. your back arches with how full you feel, the blunt head of his cock dragging against your walls as he fucks into you. hard. unable to control himself, his mouth practically hangs open as he pants, moans spilling from his mouth easily. 

“need,-” he starts, before quickening his pace even further. “needed to see,-” a hand drops one of your legs, and moves to your back to unclasp your bra. shoving it up so it no longer covers your breasts, a high whine tears from the back of his throat as he sees how each thrust makes your breasts bounce.

something clicks in your head. some mixture of the adrenaline, and how sexy haechan always made you feel judging by how desperate he could get around you, boosted your confidence tenfold. 

bringing your hands to your chest, you cup your breasts with your palms and give them a firm squeeze. the lewdness of it coupled with the stimulation making you arch your back, pushing you into him. 

and haechan cums.  

x

later, with his arms draped around you sleepily, you shift a little in his hold so he opens his eyes to look at you. “about just now…” haechan nods, letting you know you can continue. “so you don’t like it when you can’t see me?” you whisper, not wanting to break the silence and the tenderness that always filled the room on late nights like these. 

he hesitates. “i love everything i do with you” he says, quietly and sincerely. a hand comes up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “you know you’re already perfect to me, right?” 

the comment makes you warm up inside. love was so easy for haechan, and he never failed to remind you of how much he loved you all the time. 

“i know.” you snuggle closer to him. “but i just want to know when it feels just as good for you as it feels for me.” 

he hums in agreement. “maybe…” he bites his lip as he picks out the words in his head. “i think i just like to face you as we’re doing it. i like it when you…” suddenly shy, he nuzzles his face into the pillow a little so the rest of his sentence comes out muffled. “when you ride me, or when i’m on top of you.”

deciding to tease him a little, you add, “and the thing i did with my boobs…?” 

nervously, he blinks at you. “what?” 

“haechan, you came when i started playing with my chest.” 

“i j-just liked seeing you make yourself feel good,” he sits up, flustered. “i don’t-that’s not why i…” 

“okay, okay.” you get up too, leaning against the headboard. reaching out to pat him on the cheek, you feel warmth on your fingertips and decide not to push things further.  

“i just want you to know that if you wanted to try anything, you can just bring it up.” 

“i don’t want…i don’t want to try anything…” he mumbles. in the moonlight, you can see how he’s turned away from you, staring at the clock on your bedside table. 

and suddenly, you know exactly what you want to do. 

“or you can try it when i’m asleep.” 

confusedly, he turns around and blinks at you. “what?” 

“i trust you. i give you full permission to touch me in my sleep. whatever you want.” 

he gapes at you, speechless. you wonder if he’s going to protest again, you wonder if you pushed things too far. 

but something in your proposition must have stirred something in him, because eventually, he settles on asking…

“are you sure?” 

you reach over and take his hand to soothe him. “i’m sure.”

x

“has haechan mentioned anything?” 

you’re videocalling mark again. it had been a full week since you invited haechan to basically do whatever he wanted to you — a full week of staying up late and feeling him slide into bed behind you, waiting for what felt like hours. the most he did was maybe pull you towards him to cuddle, but he always did that. 

but it was also a myriad of little things you began to notice in that week. the way he would kiss you a little harder on days you walked around the house without a bra on. how he liked to hug you with his arms pressed against your upper back, pushing you into him. 

and the little things you began to do instead: wearing lower cut tops around the house, bending over so he could catch an eyeful of your cleavage. but every night, your boyfriend still lay still behind you, and you were beginning to think you had truly pushed things too far.

marks hums in thought. “not really.” he pauses. “actually, he doesn’t even talk about your boobs anymore.” 

“he doesn’t?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. 

“nope.” mark sighs in relief. “i didn’t think the day would ever come. did you finally let him act on it or something?” 

“not really,” you grumble. 

“maybe he’s just marvelling at the freedom he has on which to love on your boobs now,” mark assures you. “i’m sure he’ll figure out what to do soon.” a pause. “sorry, is it just me or is it absurd that i’m comforting you about the fact that surely haechan will be obsessed with your boobs again?” 

“it’s a little absurd,” you concede. “am i setting feminism back by 100 years with my attempts to seduce him?”

“a little bit,” he nods, leaning back in his desk chair. “maybe just 50 years, though.”  

x 

you’re in bed, listening to the sounds of haechan busying himself putting away cutlery in the kitchen drawers. the sound of the tap running when he brushes his teeth and washes his face, the light sounds of his bottles of moisturizer and cream being capped and put away. the low hum of his voice, raspy but sweet as honey, as he mumbles a tune to himself. the click of the light switch as the room is bathed in moonlight. 

your eyes firmly closed, you feel yourself begin to doze off — if he hadn’t made a move, he wasn’t likely going to all of a sudden, right? vaguely, you hear him pad over to the bed in his slippers. 

and then he stops. 

unlike all the other nights before, he doesn’t get in immediately. even with your eyes closed, you can feel him standing there, breathing, taking in the look of you in the moonlight. 

“baby?” haechan calls, softly. 

you stay silent.

“are you still awake?” 

he reaches out a hand, and shakes you gently. you make your body go as limp as possible, keeping your breathing steady. 

“y/n?” he tries again. still nothing. 

after another pause, the bed dips as his weight settles in behind you. minutes pass, before you feel his hands come to your waist. they remain there for a while, and you can almost imagine him in the dark — pupils blown out, biting his lip. just wondering. after what feels like years, the sheets rustle as his arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his chest. 

slowly, incrementally, you feel his hands begin to slide under your shirt. his fingertips are cool against your hot skin, fluttering with a slight nervousness, and you know it’s because he’s afraid to wake you with heavier touches. higher and higher up, his palms snake their way past your stomach, until they reach the underside of your breasts. 

another pause. 

and then, his hands slide up, the drag of it heavier this time, until he has a boob held carefully in each palm. 

you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat thundering in your chest. there’s something about all of this occurring in the dark, and in complete silence, which makes you hyper-attuned to him: the slight twitch of his fingers from his nervousness, his erratic breathing on the back of your neck. 

you feel him tense his fingers a few times, if anything, getting a feel of the soft flesh. and then, he carefully tightens his hold, squeezing each breast cupped in his palm — lightly, almost guiltily at first. as if he can’t believe he’s really doing this. you can hardly believe he’s really doing this. 

“fuck”, you hear him breathe. he squeezes harder.

his movements gentle, and barely noticeable with how slow they are, he begins to roll each 

breast in his palm. “so soft…” he breathes, and bounces them experimentally, feeling them move under his touch.

trailing his fingers inwards, he touches your nipples lightly, before rolling them between index finger and thumb, letting out a groan when he finds them grow stiff and hard. feeling around your areolae, he pinches at the skin. 

when he shifts behind you, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your lower back. 

his soft mutters and swears make you want to flip over and force his head into your chest, where you know he’ll only do better with his lips and teeth and tongue. but something about his warm palms, his fingers pushing and kneading and rolling, swiping in your cleavage, are so calming and loving that it starts to lull you to sleep. 

the last thing you register is his one of his hands leaving your chest, and the wet sounds of haechan fucking into his fist. 

x

haechan thinks he’s lost his mind. 

he used to be able to hide it. he used to be fine with glancing at you, habitually flickering his eyes to your chest when you would walk into the room or snuggling up to him. but now he’s totally fucked, because he thinks he’s developed some sort of addiction. 

he can’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep without reaching over to touch your breasts, and thumb at your nipples. his mind keeps trailing back to thoughts of going further, of kissing your chest, of sucking on your pretty tits and watching your nipples stiffen and harden because of him. 

and he thinks he’s beyond help when he finds himself standing over your open drawer, feeling himself grow hard as he bends down to run his fingers over your collection of bras, brassiere, and lingerie. 

because admittedly, ever since mark tipped you off, you had been stocking up on the pretty fabrics, testing out padded and non-padded ones, choosing colors you know haechan liked to see you in, materials like mesh and lace and cotton. 

his fingers rub against a soft, satin-y material, and he pulls it out. it’s light blue and flimsy, opening in the front, and from the way he’s memorized you through touch alone he knows it will barely cover your chest. it was a piece that would tease him more than anything, and he imagines the satin rubbing against his face, you pushing your chest into him as he unclasps it, watching the fabric fall away from your pretty breasts as you expose yourself to him. 

he can’t help himself, as he falls backwards onto the bed, scrambling so he can sit against the headboard. tugging his pants down with a movement that is too practiced, feeling his hard cock slap up against his stomach. too hurried to get any lube or lotion, scared you’ll come back from grocery shopping to find him like this, he spits into his hand and immediately starts fisting his length, the other still clinging onto your bra. he lets out a sigh of relief, his pants slowing down as he strokes himself. 

spreading the satin out on the bed, he lets his eyes fall to it as his hand speeds up. he wonders how he can request for you to wear it, and send him a picture. maybe he could put it at the very top of your pile of underwear, so you would see it. the color of it would look so pretty against your skin, would look so pretty in your mouth, would look so pretty if he… 

and then he’s grabbing the material, still soft and silky to touch, and now he’s stroking his cock with it, and the feeling makes him gasp, his hips fucking up into his fist, legs planted on the bed so he can thrust his hips up harder. the light blue, delicate material, looks obscene against the pink of his cock. 

he teases a finger over his slit and he whines, higher than he had ever heard himself. his chest heaving, he imagines you finding him, sitting on the bed, fucking himself into your bra, practically cumming at the thought of nuzzling his face into your boobs. he thinks of what you would say. 

or maybe you would get on top of him like you do, splitting yourself open on his cock as your tits bounce with each of your movements. 

he finishes to the thought of that, cumming straight into the material of your bra. the shame doesn’t hit him until after, when he’s trying to wash the stains out of it, a bright red that starts in his stomach and burns through his neck, cheeks, and ears. he’s silent all through dinner, faces away from you at night. 

but he can’t deny the thought that he wanted to do it again. and maybe all the other things he fantasized about. but how would he ever be able to tell you now?

x

the morning of your anniversary was when you decided this had to stop. all the teasing had begun to backfire, because having haechan’s hands on you every night — especially on the nights you had trouble sleeping, were making you need him badly. and he didn’t have a clue. 

haechan had woken up, kissed you on the cheek and wished you a happy anniversary, before heading to the kitchen. sitting on the edge of your bed, you thought hard about what exactly you should tell him — whether you should bring up the fact that mark was the reason all of this even happened, if you should tell him you had been teasing him, or that you had been awake on all those nights. 

suddenly, it seemed to add up to quite a lot of manipulation and lying. you felt a bit nervous. 

walking to the kitchen, you enter just in time to see him finish preparing the ingredients for the romantic breakfast he had planned. sweeping them into bowls lined up neatly on the countertop, he turns and smiles at the sight of you, standing there timidly in the entryway. 

“what’s wrong, love?” he comes over to you, draping his arms over your hips. “is everything okay?” 

swaying slightly, you look into his eyes, so full of love, and know that you can’t keep anything from him. and also that you weren’t brave enough to do it right then and there. “haechan?” 

“mmhm?” 

you hesitate. “i’m… i’m going to take a shower.” 

laughing slightly, he tilts his head to the side. “o…kay?” 

“do you want to join me?” you say in a breath.

you watch as the words hit him. slowly, he blinks at you, before he swallows, his throat bobbing. “really? that won’t make you uncomfortable?” 

“yes,” you breathe. “i want to.” 

it takes a few more assurances from you before haechan agrees, holding on to your hand as the two of you step into the bathroom. he waits for you to undress first, looking away politely as you get in the shower, before he undresses and steps in after you. as the hot water cascades over you, the steam beginning to make the air heavy, he kisses your shoulder gently before turning you around so your back is facing him. 

“i’ll wash your back for you,” he says, kindly. you hear him uncap the shower gel, and slowly start to scrub at your back lightly with the loofah. sometime between turning around and him washing your back, he’s turned off the water, and there aren’t any sounds except for foam and soap moving against skin. 

“haechan?” 

“yes?” 

you turn around. haechan lifts the loofah away from your skin and looks at you, curiously. 

“what’s wrong?” 

“wash my front for me.” 

he bites his lip, before nodding. 

“okay.” 

he starts at your shoulders, down to your collarbones, working small circles into your skin. when he reaches the top of your chest, where the swell of your breasts begins, he hesitates again, lifting the loofah from your skin so his hand hovers between the two of you. you decide that now was a good a time as ever. 

“haechan…” you reach out and take his hand. and he looks so nervous, his breaths coming in quicker, his eyes darting between yours and your interlocked hands, that it makes you want to delay for just a little bit longer. 

“haechan, you do know that it feels good when you touch my chest, don’t you?” 

“what?” he stares at you. he seemed like he was hardly breathing. 

“i may have been awake a few of the nights in these past two weeks,” you say, slowly, before looking him in the face again. “you left me feeling really needy, you know that?” 

“sorry,” he apologises reflexively, before stopping as the words register in his head. “so, it…doesn’t make you…uncomfortable?” 

“no.” 

slowly, he nods, and then he adds, “you’re not weirded out?” 

“no,” you shake your head patiently. “it’s the opposite of all that. i love it when you touch me there.” 

“yeah?” he breathes, and you watch as his eyes darken just slightly, his chest falling and rising at a slightly quicker rate. and then he’s dropping the loofah, his hands going to your waist as he kisses you, hard. backing you up against the shower wall, he continues to kiss you feverishly as his hands go to the slope of your shoulders, trailing down your front until they cup your breasts, the movement so practiced and fluid that you don’t have the time to catch your breath. 

“always,” he gasps, “wanted to do this,” he moans into your mouth as he plays with your nipples, stroking them, his hands still slippery with soap. 

his movements jerky and disjointed, he turns the water back on so that it runs over the two of you, dousing your chest with warm water so that it’s slippery to touch, and if possible they feel even squishier and softer in his hold. groaning, he pushes his head into your neck as he squeezes them in his firm grip. 

“haechan,” you whine, his hands on you, and the desperation in his rough actions making you need him even more. 

he doesn’t bother to respond, shoving his knee between your legs to knock them apart and letting you grind on his thigh. its the way the movement is meant to placate you, as if he was too busy with your breasts to even pay attention to you, that makes it even more satisfying to grind down on him. 

“can i,” he gasps, breaking away from you. somehow already fucked out even though all he’s done is touch you, he pleads with you with his eyes. unable to catch his breath, he stutters out, “c-can i please, please, suck them?” 

you curse, but he seems to take it negatively. gulping, he begins to move away from you, his hands trembling, but your desperation overtakes you. 

grabbing his head by his hair, you pull his face towards your chest. and now it’s your turn to beg. 

“please,” you rasp, and that’s all you have to say because immediately his lips latch onto your right nipple, a whine sounding from him high and drawn out. swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, his other hand goes to your neglected breast, rolling the other nipple with his thumb and forefinger. all the while, his hips grind mindlessly, his hard cock rubbing against your upper thigh, spilling precum all over your skin that’s washed away just as quickly. 

haechan is in seventh heaven. he thinks he could spend forever like this, suckling on your tits, fucking into your thighs, listening to your pretty gasps and sighs. all the embarrassment from before has melted away, and all that’s left is his desire to touch and to taste, knowing that it brought you as much pleasure as it did for him. 

“eager baby,” you coo affectionately, trying to keep your voice level. with a feeling of elation, watching him grind against your skin and suckle at you as if he was a baby, you realise that you’ve done it: he’s lost all semblance of control. “do you think you could cum like this?” 

haechan moans, and the sound is beautifully crude as it echoes against the bathroom tiles. open-mouthed and panting, he whines again as he switches to another breast, both hands leaving your chest in favor of tugging at his neglected cock. 

and suddenly, you know just what he needs. 

“stop,” you tell him, but it’s not convincing enough — the sight of him, and stimulation from your chest, affecting you way too much. he ignores you, continuing to slobber over you, licking at the crevice between your boobs. 

“stop,” you insist, pushing him away this time. even as he breaks apart from you, his movements halting, his eyes are still trained on your breasts, watching the streams of water slide down them, dripping off of you, as if in a trance. 

reaching behind him to turn off the water, you open the shower door. haechan blinks a few times, the dissipating steam slowly clearing the air of the tension, and clearing the fog in his head too. 

“y/n,” he swallows. “i need you, please-” 

“you’ll have me,” you assure him, grabbing a towel as you lead him out of the en-suite bathroom, and over to your bed. “i just know you’ll really like this, so trust me, okay?” 

“okay,” he breathes, coming to stand between your legs as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“and-” you point at him. “you need to calm down, okay?” 

looking wounded, haechan practically whimpers, reaching for your chest. 

“it’s not that i don’t like you eager,” you say, hurriedly. “i just want you to enjoy this for longer, okay?” 

he nods. 

a smile tugs at your lips. is this how he usually felt like? watching you dumb and desperate for him? 

“words,” you tease. 

“okay,” he says softly. “i’ll try.” 

“good job, baby,” you reach up to pat him on the cheek, before turning to grab a bottle of lotion that always stood on your bedside table. lying on your back, you motion for him to come over to you. he hovers obediently, sitting on his heels. 

uncapping the lotion, you take one of his hands and squeeze out a generous amount onto his palm. 

“spread it out over my chest,” you tell him, patiently. his lips part, and he’s about to surge towards you, so you place a hand on his arm. “slowly.” 

he swallows. he takes a breath. and then he’s spreading the lotion onto his palms, and as he promised, he slowly places them on your chest and begins to apply it onto your skin. his eyes glaze over as he swipes them under your boobs, rubbing into your cleavage, smearing it in circular motions closer to your nipples. even though you enjoy his touch, and you know he’s enjoying himself too, you motion for him to stop. 

slowly, carefully, you place both hands on the sides of your boobs. haechan’s eyes widen almost comically, and you look at him sternly, reminding him to keep it together. you squeeze them together, creating a tight passage between them where your cleavage is. 

“okay,” you breathe. “now fuck them.” 

haechan’s eyes, which have been fixating on your chest the whole time, flicker up to yours in confusion. 

“baby,” you try again, “here. in between my boobs.” 

haechan had never seemed to hear of the concept. finding the words, he splutters out, “what? how? do i really-” he stares at you, again, before the arousal seems to wind him over and he shuffles up to straddle your stomach. you see his thighs trembling as his large hands cover yours, squeezing your breasts together with more force. the blunt head of his cock makes contact your boobs, and he whimpers, before slotting it in the valley of your breasts, and thrusting forwards. 

you remove your hands, seeming to give him total control, when really he’s lost it all completely. 

his mouth hangs open as he lets out moan after moan, thrusting harder and harder into the tight passage. “fuck,” he gasps, going to stroke your nipples as he raises himself slightly, the need to fuck your tits harder and faster driving his hips forward and making him almost lose balance. strings of curses and nonsensical rambles fall from his puffy lips as he chases his high, wanting to enjoy it for longer but also wanting to cum. 

the sight of him, flushed and panting, holding onto your chest as if for dear life, is enough to satiate you for a little while, but soon the wetness between your thighs and throbbing of your clit feels too much to handle on your own.

“baby,” you breathe, “do you want to-” 

but at the petname, haechan lets out one high whine, and cums — all over your chest, up to your neck and chin and some even dribbling onto your face. all the while, he continues to fuck into your chest, until the stimulation is too much for him and he falls back on his heels, needing to get away. 

there’s a pause. 

his heaves and pants filling the room, he sits on the bed resting on his elbows. you’re a little winded too, but you don’t know what from. it takes him a while to calm down, even after you clean yourself up and pull him towards you to cuddle, him laying a hand on your boob the entire time. 

finally, his head seems to clear and he comes back to himself. looking at you carefully, he furrows his brow. 

“so that day with the turtleneck…” 

“yeah,” you say, feeling a little shy. you can’t believe he remembered something so far back. 

“and the photo of you in the bra…” 

“i thought you’d like it,” you offer, and he laughs at that. before he pauses, and really looks at you. 

“and you haven’t cum at all today, haven’t you sweetheart?” 

“not yet,” you breathe. 

happy fucking anniversary.

taglist: @matchahyuck , @kpopwh0r3 read part 2 here <3

#haechan smut #haechan scenario #fic: gold-skinned eager baby #nct smut #nct scenario #haechan imagine #haechan au

[coolyiooo]

BSD Men Reacting To You Wearing A Bunny Suit!

pairings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, and Chuuya

❗Warnings❗: moaning, whimpering, dirty talk, kissing, grinding, stimulation.

Summary: To be honest, you just wanted to see their reaction when you put on the outfit, so you bought one. Plus you wanted to spice things up a bit in the bed room so why not?

🖤DAZAI🖤

You just finished putting on the outfit. It was tight and very revealing but you felt powerful in a way. You were checking yourself out in the mirror. How the outfit hugged your curves and the light gray stockings covering your legs. You tried your best to place the bunny ears in a good position when suddenly the door opened.You turned around to see a slightly blushed, yet stunned, Dazai. You started to blush a little too.

"W-well.. do I look good?"

He closed the door, didn't say anything, and walked towards you with the same expression he had as he walked in. He grabbed your hands and kneeled on the ground. looking up at you with glowing eyes.

"You really are a goddess from the heavens! I've been blessed!" He said with literal tears in his eyes.

"All this from a bunny suit?" You looked confused but felt flattered.

"My belladonna~ you did this for me?" He said placing a hand on his chest.

"Well I just did this to see your reaction..so I guess I did it for me and you?"

He got up and put his hands on your hips, bringing you closer to his torso. Your foreheads touching.

"Why don't I show you how much of an affect you had on me just from this outfit?" He says in a husky, low voice.

He grabbed one of your hands and placed it on his slightly hardened cock. Your eyes widened a bit, as your cheeks start to blush more.

"Y-you horny bastard!"

He smiles cunningly "Only for you bella~ I mean what were you expecting? That'd I'd just tell you how gorgeous you are, go on about my day, and throw away this opportunity? You wanted to see my reaction right bella~? Well let me show you~"

He then carried you bridal style into your room. You have a very heated night to look forward to. Also he'll definitely make you jump on his dick like a bunny.

💚RANPO💚

You were putting on the outfit in your room, waiting for Ranpo to come from his snack run to the store. After putting it on you looked in the mirror and you were starting to get nervous, when Ranpo opened the door.He stood still by the door way with a bag of snacks in his hand

"Oooo~ you see I knew you had a surprise for me..with my deduction skills! But I didn't know what it would be. I wanted to be surprised"

"Do..you like it?" You said kind of timid with a slight blush.

"Hmm..no"

You felt your heart stop and sank after he bluntly, with no hesitation, said no. You turned pale.

"I love it!"

You let out a sigh.You felt relieved, yet a bit angry. Your face showing a 'are you fucking serious?' face.

"You tease!"

He scoffed "Me? A tease? I'm not the one wearing a cute bunny suit!" He said pointing at you

"H-hey!"

"Well, since you look the part..you know..a bunny..maybe.."

He closed the door, set the bag of snacks on the counter, and walked towards you. He opened his eyes, they looked like shining emeralds, and held your chin up with his fingers.

"You should jump on my cock like a good little bunny"he said with a low voice.

You gulped at his dirty comment. He grabbed your hand and brought your body towards his after he sat at the edge of the bed. Your hands on his chest and his on your hips.

"This is after all what you were hoping was going to happened right~?"

💜FYODOR💜

You just finished putting on the outfit. Checking yourself out in a big mirror, feeling pretty but still shy. It's a very bold outfit in your opinion. You heard the door open, to see Fyodor stare you.

His eyes slowly looked up and down at you. Really taking in what his eyes are seeing. He saw you hugging yourself with a hint of blush.

"How..do I look?"

He closed the door and walked towards you with a straight face. He grabbed both your arms and separated them, forcing yourself to be more exposed. He then laid a hand on your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes.

"Don't look so shy, my love~ you have no reason to when your always breathtaking"

Ugh, the things this man does to you could almost make you cry. You looked down, trying to hide your embarrassed, flushed face.He smiled softly at you.

"What made you do this?"

"I uh- just wanted to see your reaction. As simple as that"

"Hm~ your not fooling anyone, my love. You wanted me to have my way with you, isn't that right?"

"W-what no! W-well I mean..of course I wouldn't mind-"

"Hm I thought you'd want to be fucked into oblivion, my dear, but since you said no then-"

"N-no! I mean.. y-yes I was hoping you'd do that. I do want it..please"

He looked at you with a pleased smile "If That's how you want it. How can I resist? especially when you put this on just for me and only me"

💙ATSUSHI💙

You and Atsushi were watching TV when suddenly you told him you'd be right back. You went to your room to put on the outfit. You thought you could surprise him just by walking in front of him. You opened the door and Atsushi looked at you with a bright red face.

"W-what are you w-wearing?! I-i mean not that I don't like it! Your very beautiful- wait, don't tell me you were gonna go out l-looking like that!"

"W-what?! Ofc not! I wore this for you!" You said with a blushed face. Why on earth would he think you'd wear this in public?

"W-well...i love how it looks on you" His eyes looking up and down at you, gulping.

"Hm? Why's that?" You walked towards him with a smirk.You wanted to tease him a bit.

"H-how could I not? It shows off your c-curves very well.. and shows off your legs" he looked at your body, taking in the sight you left before him.

"I put this on for you, love. I did this to see your reaction and im very satisfied."

He looked a bit stunned after hearing the reason you did this just to see his reaction, but then it turned into a more soft look when you put your hands on his cheeks.

"You can do whatever you please"

He paused just for a moment "T-then if you don't mind"

He got up and carried you with your legs around his waist, you let out a yelp of surprise. He brings you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed.

"I think I'd like to play cat and mouse except.. there's a tiger and there's a bunny"

He kissed you passionately, already whimpering softly. Your arms around his neck as his were around your body, your legs still around his waist.He pulled away from the kiss to look deeply into your eyes. Exactly how a predator looks at it's prey. It honestly made you wet.

"I hope you don't mind if I bite a little bit"

🧡CHUUYA🧡

You were planning on surprising Chuuya by just walking into a room with the outfit on. You were in your room putting on the outfit when Chuuya walked in on you changing. You didn't even notice because your back was facing him. He just stood there in a bit of shock, then realization hit and he starts to smirk. He laid on the doorway with his arms crossed, waiting for you to be done. When you zipped up the suit, finished dressing, you heard a voice.

"Damn your so sexy~"

You jumped a bit, almost falling, but thanks to Chuuya's ability, he caught your fall and laid you back to stable ground. You looked at your boyfriend, who was smirking.

"H-how long were you here for!?"you said a bit embarrassed.

"That's not important..what's important is what made you do this?"he walked up to you

"I- I just wanted to surprise you and see how you would react" you said looking down, flustered

"Well isn't that cute? your so irresistible, doll~ you did this all for me?" He put his fingers on your chin to make you look at him.

"Yes.. I thought you'd like it"

"Well I fucking love what I'm seeing"He said, looking up and down at you.

You felt incredibly flustered.He used his ability to make you float, startling you, and dropping you on top of the bed. He got on top of you and started to caress your entire body, making you moan and whimper.

"God, I can't keep my hands off of you. You drive me so fucking crazy, babe"

"W-well ..you can do whatever you want, as long as it is you, Chuuya~"

He then kissed you aggressively. You both moan into the kiss. He started to grind against you. You could feel his cock, hard and ready to feel you.he pulled away from you.

"If this is for me then you wouldn't mind jumping up and down on me with my cock inside you like a cute lil bunny right?"

#bsd atsushi #bsd chuuya #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd fyodor #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs #Dazai smut #Fyodor smut #Ranpo smut #Chuuya smut #Atsushi smut

[kirbyskisses]

idk soft dom very tired jason todd has been holding my mind hostage 🫠 coming home after a long night and walking in on u devastated because u've been soaked for an hour (rip) but u can't make urself come so ur near / in tears when he finds u. i feel like u kinda hide urself from him bc he must be exhausted but also ask him to please help u maybe,,

hiiiii anon!!! sorry this took sooo long, university is kicking my ass. anyway; fem!reader, latino!jason w/ spanglish nicknames, vv soft, praise kink. i hope you like it!!! tagging: @mxonigirimiya @reveluving and @sems-diarie. also i guess this is a celebration because I JUST HIT 2K

-

“fucking hate this city.” jason mumbles, lying to himself. if he truly hated gotham he wouldn’t be working so hard to defend it. he just hates how much the endeavor takes out of him.

still, he loves many a thing about gotham - principle of all, he loves that gotham has you. his one spot of hope, his angel of light who’s always smiling away in his apartment for him like a shining beacon in otherwise dark terrain.

but this time you’re not greeting his tired body at the door. you’re not shining that heart-melting smile in the kitchen. you’re not even ignoring his presence in the living room because your head is buried a book or focused on a show or because you’re agitatedly writing a document for work.

“baby?” he calls out, voice still distorted by the red hood helmet. he shrugs and takes it off. he gives an exhausted smile up spotting the clothes that you left out for him. it comforts him that they still carry a semblance of your comforting scent - it only makes him long to cuddle you in bed.

oh! the bedroom! he almost laughs at the idiocy of not thinking to check there, slipping on the pajamas expecting to find you having fallen asleep or gotten distracted from his earlier shout by scrolling through your phone.

he doesn’t not expect to see his pretty angel bouncing frustratedly on a fake silicon cock, wearing one of his oversized shirts, fingers desperately rubbing at your chubby clit. even in the dark with tired eyes, he thinks he can make out wet spots on the covers.

he doesn’t announce his presence with anything more than a cough and a click of the lamp; immediately your glossy eyes turn to him in embarrassment.

“you look like you need some help there, sweet thing.” he gives a tired smirk when your eyes meet.

“j-jay!” your voice cracks. “i didn’t - i thought-”

“were you waiting up for me?” he yawns a bit and walks his heavy form closer to you, arms caging you in as he leans over, green eyes admiring your trembling lips.

“had a bitch of a patrol - but clearly i shouldn’t have kept my baby waiting. let me make it up to you.”

“ ‘s okay. jay you’re tired a-and it’s late.” you sigh out, still stuttering from teetering on the edge of a high, foggy brain trying to be reasonable despite your boyfriend kissing down your neck.

“ay, cariño… how long?”

“how long?” you repeat, dumbfounded and he lets out a low chuckle.

“how long have you been trying to make her cum while i was gone?”

you feel yourself gush a little bit more at how jason refers to your core like its own person. you hesitate as he sucks a mark into your neck, threads of spit connecting his lips to the bruised skin.

“tell me, baby. don’t be embarrassed.”

“a-… an hour…”

“an hour? fuck, pobrecita… ‘m gonna take care of her now, aight? spread your legs for me.”

you do as he says, as always, gaining a smirk and a kiss to your clit from your act of obedience.

“she’s crying baby.” he pulls the soaked fake toy out and tosses it. he gives a teasing, unimpressed laugh, finger rolling over the soaking bud and making you whimper.

“heh. no wonder you couldn’t get off princess with that; i’ve gotten you too used to something bigger.” you hear the fabric of his boxers drop. “usually i’d use my tongue but you’ve gone and prepped yourself for me so well, mamita.”

“please…” you sniffle, still feeling bad for bothering him. “pl-please help, i don’t - jay, i don’t wanna wait anymore.”

he shushes you - his large, battle-scarred hand gentle stroking your cheek and the other guides his fat tip to kiss your warmth.

“sshh. i gotcha, sweetheart.”

“ ‘m sorry…” you whisper out still feeling like a burden for your neediness - lengthening his already difficult night.

“no. no te preo. don’t you be sorry. you did so good, mamita, y’know that? i should be thanking you for letting me have this sweet treat.” jason makes a loud groan as he inches in.

“fuckkk… i’ll take care of ya, sweet thing. you just relax and let me do everything fr’m here.”

jason loves to feel needed. if you need him, he’s there - no matter the cost or the exhaustion.

and if he gets to sink his fat cock into a soaking wet, tight little pussy while doing so - that’s just the cherry on top.

#jason todd x reader smut #jason todd #latino jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #x reader #smut #request #kirby’s asks🌸

[jjongslutz]

박제이 JAY 💋 TAKE FIVE! [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you've always trusted jay. he's a good director. but you've gotta admit, this gig is... weird

WARNINGS ⨯ fem!reader, pw(out)p, soft dom!jay x sub!reader, director!jay x voice actor!reader, use of pet names (baby, good girl, darling) guided masturbation (f. receiving), recording (audio), fingering (f. receiving), finger sucking, p in v sex, cumming in mouth

WORD COUNT ⨯ 2.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . i don't even know what prompted this so…. enjoy!

You moan into the mic, marking what feels like the fiftieth time of the day.

This is it, this is the one.

"Hm," you hear the disapproving hum from your headphones, instantly dropping your head in frustration. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I need more emotion."

"Can I have some water?" You ask, instead of returning to the task you just can't quite get.

As long as you've been a voice actor, a good three years, you've never played such a challenging role, which is surprising, considering you once voiced seven different characters in the same show.

Jay, the director, nods at you from behind the glass.

You make your way to his side of the studio in a rush. You truly can't stand another second in that recording booth making such embarrassing sounds into the microphone for a whole group of people to watch and listen.

"What's gotten into you, Y/N?"

This isn't the first time you're working with Jay. He's young, but a very well-known director in the voice acting community under the name Park Jongseong. Though, you know him best as just Jay, one of your old friends from college. Is it nepotism if it's your friend getting you these gigs? But, then again, you're also pretty popular in the community, so... tomato tomato.

You shrug at him, taking a sip out of your water bottle. "I don't know, I guess, it's just—" You raise your shoulders again and take an awkward look around the room. Gesturing with your eyes, you tell him, "There's a lot of people here, it's kinda weird."

The gig in itself is weird, you know this, and you knew this ever since Jay presented it to you.

"You want me to what?"

"It's really simple," he had said. So casually, as if he didn't just drop the bomb that you'll basically be voicing straight up porn. "You make a few... exaggerated sounds, and the jobs done. It pays really well, trust me."

And, since you did need the money, you accepted, expecting it to be the shortest recording session you've ever had.

You were proven wrong already.

Jay lets his forehead fall into his hand, rubbing at his temples as if trying to heal a headache, which he probably actually is. He sighs before letting his arm drop. "Guys, you can go home. I'll take it from here."

They do not have to be told twice because as soon as the words come out of their boss's mouth, they're packing up their bags, putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. You watch them all file behind each other to exit the studio, and then it's just you and Jay.

"So..." he says, filling the silence. "You ready for another try?"

You're glad he's taken off his director persona. Using it as a pass to strip off some of your own professionalism, you heave a long sigh. "Yeah, sure."

And, so you do.

You moan into the mic, this time making your own face in disgust because even you can hear that it sounded off. But when you turn to Jay, you don't see him mirroring your expression.

Instead, he's watching you intently. His fingers rest on his bottom lip, which is tutting underneath them. He's thinking, thinking, thinking, and you know he's come up with a new idea by the way his lips curl up slowly.

You hear the click of his microphone, and soon his voice fills your headphones. "I have a suggestion." His voice is low, but not hesitant. Jay is anything but hesitant.

"I'll take anything at this point."

"I want you to touch yourself."

His eyes never leave yours despite the window barrier between the two of you. Had you not been wearing your headphones, you would've missed the suggestion entirely, but you cock your head to the side slowly and decide you're fine that you didn't.

He takes your silence as approval. "Pull out the chair and take off your shorts for me," he says quickly. And you do as you're told.

You slowly slide the shorts down your legs, turning your gaze away for a second to recollect yourself.

When you sit down, your eyes meet again. You're sure you've grown a red flush, but he doesn't seem to mind. “Bring the mic down closer to you.” He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth before giving you the next instruction. "Start rubbing your pussy over your panties. Slowly."

Your hand traces its way up your leg, to your thigh, and cunt, both staling and putting on a show. What the fuck am I doing? Using two fingers, you being to draw little circles, then big circles over your clit, starting up a nice rhythm. You hum, pushing your head back against the chair and closing your eyes.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you don't think he even notices he said it.

But you certainly did. It pulls a moan out of you.

Jay hums approvingly from his side. “Slide your fingers underneath your waistband. Touch around your clit, but don't touch it just yet. Can you do that for me?”

You give him a broken hum instead of words, listening to his directions and obeying them simply. Your pussy pulses beneath your touch, begging for your fingers to reach where you want it most. But you listen to Jay obediently, letting your hands draw circles around your cunt, eliciting whimpers from your core.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Jay whispers into your ears. You wish he was in the room with you. You’re not sure what you want him to do, but you want more than just his entrancing voice in the headphones. “Keep reading the script,” he adds.

Right. You almost forgot about it.

Your character is meant to be reading while getting fucked from behind, their words slurred together and interrupted by moans. It’s hot, but the text is less than turning you on.

Starting from the top, you read it out loud, your fingers collecting the juices spilling out from your pleasure.

Without permission, you stick one finger inside of you. You push it in, and out, before retracting it completely and bringing it up to your mouth to suck on it. Once your finger is coated in your saliva, it goes back into your cunt, forgetting all about Jay’s piercing gaze from the other side of the glass.

His voice rings in your ears. “What are you doing, baby? That’s not part of the script,” he teases.

Your finger still in your sopping cunt, you lean forward to start back with the script. At about halfway, Jay’s voice sounds again.

“Play with your clit.” His voice drips with a sense of hunger that turns you on.

Your thumb rolls over your clit, finally, a broken moan escaping your lips. You curl your other fingers inside of you, searching for your G-spot which you just can't quite reach. A whine drawls out of you.

When he’s satisfied with your noises, you hear the click of his mic turning on. “Pinch your nipple.”

Bringing your other arm up, you notice your hardened nipples aching to be played with. You twist and pinch and tug to Jay’s pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans again. His hand drifts further down his body to where you can't see from where you're sitting, but you watch his arm jerk and match his pace with the fingers in your pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking off his headphones and slamming them on the table before moving for the door into the recording booth.

The sudden slam of the door startles you, making you jump in your seat. You close your legs quickly with your hands still embarrassingly stuck down your panties.

Jay fakes concern. “Aw baby, are you shy?” He kneels down in front of you, holding teasingly sweet eye contact as he gets down. His hands come up to your hips and dig into the waistband. You twitch as he snaps the band against your skin. “How about we take these off so I can see how wet you are?”

They come off within seconds. You’re scrambling to get back into your seat as Jay keeps watching you patiently.

“Perfect.” He runs his thumb against your dripping core, sending shivers down your spine. Your pre-cum leaves his finger shining. He raises his hand up to your mouth and swipes his thumb against your lips. You open them to welcome the taste of your wetness. “Good girl.”

As your tongue laps his thumb, you squeal when you feel an invasion in your cunt. Jay’s stuck two fingers into you, and thrusts them rhythmically to your tongue on his other hand.

You moan at the arousing sensations. Your eyes flutter shut naturally, but they catch on the flickering red light from atop the booth’s door.

It’s still recording. Fuck, you think, unable to form coherent words, bucking your hips as you feel your high coming closer. Your breaths are short and your cries are higher pitched, completely letting yourself get lost in the feeling.

And then it all slips away.

“Why,” you whine, prolonging the syllable in distress.

Jay wears a teasing smile, but his eyes show gentle affection. His hands go down to his waistband, but he interrupts himself in his movement. “Oh, baby, were you gonna cum? I’m sorry, I thought you’d want to do it on my cock instead, but I can finger you some more—”

“No!” You sit up hurriedly, grabbing his waistband weakly to take it off for him.

“Such a good girl,” he says proudly, watching you scramble to take his pants off.

You bite your lip at the wet patch on his boxers, but more at the outline of his hardened arousal underneath them. Jay looks at you intensely, his eyes telling you, “Go on.”

His erection slaps against his clothed torso. His tip shines of precum and it takes everything in you not to lap it all in your tongue.

Jay’s hand harshly grabs your hair, pulling your head to make eye contact with him towering above you. “Darling, don’t forget what we’re here for.”

You’re reminded of the recording mic and the script, crumpled paper, now, sitting on the script-stand. Pathetically, you get up from your knees, placing your hands on the stand and arching your back, giving him clear access to your entrance, which glistens in invitation.

Looking at the microphone sitting atop its stand, bent to where it sits right under your lips, your mind wanders at the thought of the shape and how much you wish it was Jay’s cock. You imagine putting him in your mouth and taking him all the way down your throat, letting him thrust upward, causing you to choke on him and clenching your throat tighter to make sure he spills his seed deep inside you.

The intrusion of him aligning himself to your hole shuts your thoughts up. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans as he slides in slowly.

His first thrust pulls out a pornagraphic moan from you. The way he hits right where you need him, balls-deep into your cunt. Your hand drags down to your stomach where you feel the tip of his dick pushing forward with each thrust.

You clench around him, trying to focus on the script through blurry vision. Taking breaks between every few words to moan or suck in a deep breath—more often, both—you manage measly to get through your lines.

“Good girl,” Jay calls you again. His hand reaches down to stroke your hair gently, before he harshly grips the base of it, bundling it in his hands and using it as leverage to slam his hips against yours. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Combining his fast thrusts and his hypnotizing words, you know you’re not going to last long. You feel his cock hit your g-spot and it’s all over. You’re clenching and whining into the microphone, letting out the most pleasurable angelic noises you’ve ever made. Your legs tremble underneath his unstilling movements.

When you’re done shaking in pleasure beneath him, your hips buck forward to avoid overstimulation, his cock slipping out. Jay doesn’t mind, his hand going directly to his aching groin, moving at a fast pace.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You love the sounds he makes. His low hums, the way he speaks quickly to not interrupt himself by a loud moan.

Steadying yourself on the chair, you kneel in front of him, his cock jerking against your mouth. He groans above you, thrusting his hips into it as he gets close. You open your mouth and welcome his spilling white ropes as he closes his eyes tightly and lets out the most brain-fuzzing sound of the day.

Jay takes his hand and cups your jaw. His thumb swipes over the leftover cum leaking over your lips, pushing it through as to not waste any bit of it. “Perfect,” he whispers at the beautiful sight in front of him.

He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, dampens it with water from your bottle and cleans you, then the microphone and script stands.

You thank him as he helps you pull your clothes on over your body, muscles still shaking.

When you’re both on the outside of the booth, nothing is different in the air from when you were out here with him before. You’re not sure if you wish it had changed or if you’re thankful there’s nothing weird that came from what you just did.

“How was that,” you ask, sipping on your bottle. You’re not really serious, you know it was good, but you need the confirmation.

A light dust of pink shades his cheeks as he names the audio file “Y/N as Mina, Ep. 4.” “Yes, you did, uh, very good. Really good.”

A smile creeps upon your lips, but you suppress it by biting your lip. “Thank you.”

With your words, his blush deepens.

But despite his bashful expression, your eyes train on the movement of his mouse on the screen, noting how he duplicates the file and saves it into another folder, labeled: X.

“I’d be happy to work with you again, Jay.”

 JJONGSLUTZ 2023

#💋 𐬹⠀꩜ written by sol #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay #enhypen jay #jay smut #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #jay x y/n #jay x you #jay x reader #jay au #jay fic #jay fanfic #p.js

[kelppsstuff]

HI MOOTIEE anyways I got smth for ya

Of course it's Adam cause YEA.

what if Adam and his goth girlfriend who is an angel of course can be fluff can be smut anything you want

Thanks mootie have a wonderful dayyy

HIIII MY BELOVED!!!! Ahhhh I hope you like thissss I enjoyed working on it! Have a fantastic day for everyone reading! Also I low-key think I’m turning into a slut with all the smut I’ve been writing recently 😭

“Looking Pretty!”

Adam x Goth gf reader

Masterlist

Warnings: blow job

Taglist: @adamsfavoritesinner @sashaphantomhive @leathesimp @ladyninggs @michelleszn @sirenetgeblogger

—

Adam had first met you when he was on stage performing at a concert. You saw you next to Lute singing all the lyrics on the top of your lungs. He threw two guitar picks y’all’s way, one for each of you and moved on to the other side of the stage.

After the concert had ending Lute introduced you two. You were her sister, and he was her boss.

—

“Sir?” Lute called out to her boss. She was behind stage and wanted to introduce her best friend to her sister. “Yeah danger tits?” Adam asked looking over his shoulder for a spilt second. He was signing autographs for girl and guys, and even little kids.

“I’d like you too meet someone if you’d have the time.” Adam brain flashed to you and Lute together in the audience. Shirley his lieutenant. wanted to introduce him to you. “Sure thing. I’ll be back ladies.”

He and lute walked over to where you were, talking to the drummer. Adam felt his eye twitch. Said drummer always pissed him off — copied Adam 24/7.

“Y/N. This is Adam.” Lute said, taking your attention away from the drummer. You looked to the first man and felt a whole bundle of nerves and excitement gather in your stomach.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!” You stuck your hand out and Adam took it. “Never expected to see a big toy goth girl in heaven.” Leave Adam to be… Adam.

Lute was screaming in her head at Adam. That was her SISTER. And what if you said something slick back?! That’s her BOSS!

“Guess I’m special.”

“Sure babe, but you ain’t better than me.”

—

The thing that made Adam really start to notice you was your outfits. He loved all the necklaces you would wear, loved the make up you did most days. He also loves your fishnets.

He couldn’t count how many times he gotten hard when you would walk around in them. It gotten that porn wouldn’t even help him anymore, but the thoughts of you did.

Adam had invited you to every one of his concerts, and even if Lute didn’t show, you still did. You were his biggest fan, his biggest supporter.

—

Adam had to be on stage in thirty minutes and every thing had started to go wrong. First his guitar wasn’t in tune. Next his singer called out last minute, something about forgetting an date. So he would have to sing, and his throat had been hurting all day. Then he couldn’t find his mask. And finally while he was trying to calm himself down, there was knock at his dressing room door. He couldn’t get a fucking minute alone.

“Fuck off!” He shouted, trying to tune his guitar. But the person didn’t fuck off. You opened the door and poked your head through the door. “Need help?” Your eyes widened. You hadn’t ever seen him with out his mask.

He was handsome safe to say. Rich brown hair, golden shimmering eyes, and a stubble that suited him. He wore black ripped jeans and a white tank top, typical rockstar outfit.

Adam glared at you but the ultimately decided you could be useful. “Come here.” His voice had a certain chill, it sent shocks of excitement down your spine. You walked over to him, and stood waiting for what he needed.

Adam looked you up and down and silently cursed. You wore a short ass skirt, with a crop maroon tank top — that did a poor job in hood your tits from spilling in Adams opinion. The platforms you wore, made you a bit taller but Adam still towered over you. And you wore those fucking fish nets.

Adam sat you down on the couch and put his guitar in your hands. He got behind you and put his hands over your own. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his gloves, you had also noticed how vain-y his hands really were along with his fore arms. “Do you know how to tune a guitar?” His breath fanned over your ear and blowing you hair the faintest bit.

“No,” you went to turn your head around to him but he grabbed your chin with his hand and pushed your head to look back at the guitar. “You see these nobs? The make the strings tighter and loser.” Adam reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.

Once he had his tuning app pulled he placed said phone your thigh. He didn’t move his hand away from it, at least not before gripping your fishnets, wishing to tear them.

“Adjust the nobs accordingly and the app will tell you if it’s in tune or not, and if it needs to be looser or tighter. Understand?” You nodded your head, and he reluctantly pulled away from you.

He started to look around for his mask. He couldn’t preform without it. He was surprised that he was comfortable with you seeing his face. Despite that, he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable performing without it.

You started to tune his guitar, slightly confused at first, but slowly got the hang of it.

Adam had trouble finding his mask. He would look at you and think thoughts that would, we’ll send him to hell probably. When he would look away — after telling himself to stop being creepy — it wouldn’t be long till his eyes were back on you. So yeah, he couldn’t find his mask.

You looked up over to him and saw him staring directly at you. Placing the guitar on the couch you got up and walked over to him. Normally you would be wearing necklaces that would move with your steps but he took notice in your bare neck.

“It’s tuned.” He hummed and acted on his intrusive thoughts. He pulled you closer to him by your neck. “You know what would compliment this outfit? A collar.” His hand wrapped around your neck, and squeezed the tiniest bit, his veins bulging.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you tired to find your next words. “What kind?” Adam took another step, you chest now pushing against each other. “One with my name on it.”

Cocky bastard.

"20 MINUTES TILL SHOW TIME!” Someone called out from the hallways. Adam clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Ya wanna suck me off before I go on?” He said in a joking tone, but holy fuck that would take away about 85% of his problems. He was pent up. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything. You’d always brush away his sexual comments, which unsurprisingly was more often than not.

You raised a brow and started to unbutton his pants. “You have twenty minutes.” His hand on your throat tightened and you started to get on your knees.

You brought the zipper and started to pulled down with your teeth. Most girls he fucked tried to act innocent. Always looking at the package he had to offer as if it was the first dick they seen. But you — you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes begging. Like a fucking slut. You pulled his pants down a little — along with his boxers and started to pump him. Getting him hard but you did need to do it for long — seeing as he was already leaning precum.

Fuck if he had twenty minutes he was gonna make it worth it.

“I’ve gotten a hand job before babe, I prefer a blowjob.” He really couldn’t shut his mouth.

You brought your lips to his shaft and started to kiss him gentle, and so soft he shuttered. You continued to move you hand as you slowly took him in your mouth.

Your mouth was warm and you started to suck him off. You couldn’t fit him all the way in your mouth — fulling his ego more — so you made up with the inches you couldn’t fit with your hand.

Your hand twisted around him and you sucked harder, making him throw his head back in a groan. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the moan wanting to escape.

“10 MINUTES!”

It was like a switch in Adam. He started to thrust into your mouth, desperately trying to release his frustration. Spit started to fall past your bottom lips — fuck, I need to be neat, you thought, insanely hot, Adam thought. You rest reached up and started to play with your nipples with your now free hands.

You could feel your gag reflex kicking, tightening your throat up. That had done it for Adam. “Fuck!” He poured himself into your mouth. Some dripped onto you lips and chin.

You looked up at licking you lips and wiping your chin with your pointer finger, before sucking that as well.

You throat had started to become sore. “THREE MINUTES! ANYONE SEEN ADAM?!” You looked to the door, but something caught your eye. Adams mask was under a desk. You crawled to it, seeing as it wasn’t far.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m fucking you.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, handing Adam his mask.

Adam was wrong, it didn’t fix 85% of his problems. It fixed 100% of his issues. “TWO MINUTES!” That send Adam into over drive, but before he could put his mask on you grabbed his chin and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Your lipstick was ruined, but a kiss mark still showed on him face. “See you out there.” You grabbed tissues and walked out. Adam not far behind you.

—

Once the concert was over, Like normal you went to find Adam backstage. You stood behind him as he signed autographs. Your feet started to hurt from wearing play forms all day. Adam seemed to take notice.

“Take your shoes off.”

“And walk bare foot on this ground?” You raised you brow to him as if he was insane. Adam rolled his eyes and bent down on one knee in front of you.

He started to take your shoes off, you did little protest, happy to get them off. He then took off his own shoes and put your feet in them. Tying them tightly so they wouldn’t fall off.

Fans started to look in shock, people started to take photos while other glared in envy.

You kind of half expected Adam to wear your shoes — you didn’t know why — but he didn’t. He carried them for you and when you two left the building he slung an arm around you. “So this means we’re dating.” Even though it didn’t sound like a question, it was.

“If you can get Lutes blessing, sure.”

—

Fuck. Adam hadn’t tried to ever convince someone of something so much before. He spent a total of 5 months proving himself to Lute. Proving himself to you. He could see why Lute wouldn’t trust him. He was a huge playboy but in those five months he gave that up. Only wanting one.

So when Lute gave him his blessing to date you, another five months later he was asking for your hand in marriage. To which you both called him deranged.

—

Ahhhh I hope that was good? I feel like the ending was rushed so I may edit this sometime in the future

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam is actually hilarious #adam x reader #goth #goth reader #goth gf #Adam x goth reader

[garoujo]

YOU OPEN UP THE BLANKET FOR THEM — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi + nanami kento

♱ warnings — sfw ; none just fluff !

♱ note — some more sfw since my brain has been so full i feel dizzy . getting dis out of my system while i’m suffering from cramps </3

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

“quit teasin’ me by looking so comfy.” satoru was already up busying himself to get ready for work, although it amused you the tight lipped pout he’d always send you when he met your gaze from where you’re still curled up in bed — stealing the heat he always leaves behind on his side. but his lingering body heat never came close to how warm he felt pressed against you, so with the next longing, pouty look he sends you, you giggle before opening up the comforter with an expectant look.

“oh? you’re gonna make me late, sweet thing.” satoru hums, a smooth drawl that you feel warm your skin but despite his words he’s still fast to approach you, mattress dipping underneath his weight as he takes his place next to you once more even though he’s already dressed and showered. “but you’re warm.” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest when you feel his arms wrap around your waist — pressing you close as his slender fingers trace the length of your spine with a croon of a laugh sounding afterwards.

“yeah? well i guess wouldn’t want you missing me too much, angel. were basically beggin’ me for a goodbye kiss, aren’t you cute?” you feel satoru squeeze at your skin affectionately before one of his palms are resting against your cheek and he’s pressing his lips against your temple, cooing when your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the touch. it’s adorable how quickly you melt back into him, already breathing softly as you find yourself drifting off against his chest and satoru makes sure to steal an extra kiss before he leaves for work that day, it was well worth the scolding he got from yaga for being late.

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

suguru was already getting ready for bed but he was taking too long in your opinion and you were getting impatient, already wanting to be pressed against his broad chest when you watch him pull his shirt over his head with a hum. “sugu, hurry up!” you sigh and he turns to give you a gentle sort of smile when you’re lifting the comforter, shooting him a pout that makes his grin tug even wider before he’s playfully rolling his eyes and approaching you.

“couldn’t wait, pretty? so impatient.” suguru hums playfully when he leans in next to you, muscled arms guiding you against his chest as he leans his lips against your temple with a laugh. “yeah well you were taking to long.” you reply quickly and you feel your boyfriend grip on you squeeze before he’s tracing his fingers along your sides soothingly, making you melt into him like you’d been waiting to.

“well i’m here now, sweetheart.” his words are a low drawl, muffled slightly against your skin but there’s an honesty to them when he pulls away to meet your drowsy gaze with his own, pulling you in for a kiss that lingers and makes you feel hazy with how sweetly he holds you close. but then suguru pulls away and guides you back against your chest and you don’t have anything more to say when he’s tucking the comforter over you cozily and curling into you with a content sort of groan.

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

you’d been a little bored since yuuji had went to the gym with megumi, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch before you finally heard the door to your apartment open and your boyfriend voice following a few seconds after. “i’m home, baby!” he calls, bounding into the living room a few seconds later with flushed cheeks from his workout but a bright grin all the same.

you didn’t really consider your decision before doing it, greeting him with a drowsy welcome back as you open up your blanket and yuuji approaches you so quickly you almost lose sight of him until he’s on you, trying to fit his body over yours on the small couch. “wait, yuuji! you’re all sweaty still—ew!” you giggle, trying to push away you’re huge hunk of a boyfriend as he nuzzles into you but he only shoots you a pout before he’s wrapping you in his arms. “but you invited me in, baby! i missed you.”

but the way yuuji’s looking at you is so sweet despite the way his blush coloured hair is still slightly damp across his forehead, so you give yourself a few more seconds of bliss against his muscled chest before his hulking figure is almost falling off the couch. “go shower and then you’ll get more cuddles.” you reason and it’s almost immediate the way he leaves you with a kiss and a giddy grin as he rushes away to the bathroom.

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

there’s a slight pout on megumi’s lips when he returns home to find you bundled up in blankets on the touch, clicking his tongue when you mimic his expression — but it’s an action that makes a slight dusting of pink grow on his cheeks before he approaches you. you feel the couch dip underneath his weight when he sits next to you, grumbling about something under his breath as his fingers rest gently along your thigh.

he feels you shuffle slightly, opening up the blankets that are wrapped around you in the hopes to guide him inside but you’re only met with a blank expression before he mumbles again. “what? are you hot? i can open the window.” megumi stands again and the blush on his cheeks only burns brighter when you giggle at his words, making him huff before he’s telling you to stop laughing through another tight lipped pout. “no, ‘gumi! get in.” you finally sigh out and you watch your dark haired boyfriend rub the back of his neck awkwardly before he slides in next to you, a little rigidly at first.

“you could’ve just asked.” you hear him mumble under his breath when he presses his chest close to you, wrapping you in his arms as he rests his cheek against your temple. “yeah but you’re too cute.” and your words only make him nuzzle deeper into you with a tight lipped shutup and another blooming flush.

・✶ ｡ﾟNANAMI KENTO

nanami had gotten home late from work as you lay wrapped in the comforter on the bed, watching him rub the heel of his hand against his eyes before he’s sending you a drowsy look — one that’s followed by a smile that’s still gentle despite the sleep lacing it. you watch him pull at his tie before he tries to make his way to the bathroom, but you cut his trip short when you call on him — opening up the blanket wrapped around you when your gaze meets his.

but you hear nanami hum out a laugh before his features seem to relax slightly, and as much as he wants to go shower off his day and get ready to really sleep with you — he can’t deny how inviting a cuddle would be right now. “just for a second, sweetheart.” sounds followed by the gentle sound of his foot steps before he’s pushing in next to you, wrapping you against his chest with an exhale that has you pushing closer to his chest.

but then you feel nanami turn onto his back as he keeps you held tight against his chest, one of his hands moving to intertwine his fingers with yours before he grumbles again, but there’s still a whisper of a smile on his lips when he speaks. “i’ll make sure to leave on time tomorrow.” knowing it’s only so he can have a few more moments like these with you.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #geto x reader #geto fluff #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Saved And Fucked By The Moth Man.

Pairing: Mothman x F. Reader (Cryptozoology).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Death/Gore, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Inhuman Anatomy, Generalized Monster-Fucking, Car Crashes, Reader's Pretty Questionable In This One, and Blood.

Based On The Results of This Poll.

You thought it could’ve been a bird, at first.

A raven, or a crow – you weren’t entirely sure. Something big and black that flew so quickly, you hadn’t been able to make out anything more specific than a dark blur and the vague impression of feathers before it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the forest before you could realize that you'd reflexively swerved to avoid it, before you could do anything to stop yourself from crashing into the base of an oak so tall and so opposing, it wouldn’t so much as shake under the force of the collision. By the time you stumbled out of your wrecked car, the windshield shattered and the engine utterly decimated, whatever threw you off-course had been gone, and you’d been left alone on a country backroad in the middle of nowhere - bruised, sore, and miles away from the nearest city. Really, the only way your night could get worse was if—

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, quaking through the otherwise silent forest. You glanced up, searching for the sky through the dense canopy of overlapping branches and finding it overcast. It’d rain, pretty soon, and you’d be left lost, injured, and drenched.

Well, at least now, it really couldn’t get any worse.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and pressed your back against the most in-tact side of your car, checking if you had reception for the millionth time. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, your battery was in the single digits – too low to justify using your flashlight and risking leaving yourself alone in the dark with a dead phone and no way to call for help if you did, somehow, manage to make it to the border of civilization.

You considered crawling into what was left of the backseat of your car, turning off your phone, and hoping someone else drove down this godforsaken road in the morning, but before you could let exhaustion dampen your better judgement, you heard something in the woods rustle, the sounds of displaced leaves and cracking twigs standing out against the stillness of the woods. Somewhat hesitantly, you turned towards the disturbance, half-expecting to see wolves or coyote or, as unlikely as it was, the same over-sized bird that’d gotten you into this, but instead, much to your relief, you found a group of three men – hunters, judging by the riffles slung over their backs, the dirt caked into their shoes. None of them were wearing visibility gear, and you couldn't say it seemed like a great idea to go skulking through the forest in the middle of the night, but you were already out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t be sure what people walking around in the woods at night were supposed to look like, and at that point, you didn’t really care.

You grinned, moving to call out to them, but the oldest of the group was already addressing you, already stepping out of the forest and onto the road. “What do you think you’re doing out here, darlin’?”

Your expression faltered, but you kept your spirits up. It was fine. This was fine. You could deal with a little backwoods chauvinism until you got to a mechanic. “Got into an accident,” you said, nodding towards where your car where it bent around the oak’s trunk. “No service, either. I guess I wouldn’t be able to bother one of you kind people to call a tow truck, would I?”

There was a long, silent pause. The two younger men exchanged a glance. Again, the oldest spoke to you. “This is private property, y’know. Not a lot of folks come through this patch of woods.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I… I’m just in town for the convention.” One of the younger men slid his rifle off of his shoulder, taking it in both hands. The other followed in-suit. “It’s a beautiful area. If I had to get stranded, I’m glad it was here.”

“So, no relatives nearby? Nobody who’d notice if you didn’t get home in the mornin’?”

You pressed yourself against the dented metal, your smile now strained. “You know what?” You asked, forcing out an airy chuckle. “I think I’ll just walk for it. How far could the next town be, right?”

He held up a hand, signaling to the rest of his group. You heard something click, caught boots scraping against rough pavement, and watched a broad grin form across the older man’s features. “Looks like there’s gonna be a hunt tonight after all, boys.”

Your first reflex was, somewhat counterintuitively, to laugh. The sound was jarring, too loud and too stilted, cutting your lips and catching in your throat like pieces of broken glass.

Your second, triggered when one of the younger men moved to step toward you, was to run for your life.

Without thought, without hesitation, you broke into a dead-sprint. There was a holler behind you, a round of hollow clicks and earth-shaking thuds, and then, they were chasing you.

You couldn’t be sure how far you made it. It felt like you ran for seconds, or days, or years. It felt like you traveled miles, or feet, or just a few steps. Everything looked like the same repetitive blur of trees taller than your eyes could follow and roots that jutted from the earth like pikes. Their footsteps remained constant, never growing closer or farther away, always lingering somewhere just behind you, always just barely breathing down your neck. Fuck this. Fuck your car. Fuck this entire goddamn town and their stupid convention. If you made it out of this alive, you’d spend the rest of your life as far from this state as you could get. Coming here had been a stupid idea to begin with, a spontaneous trip planned at the last minute and based on a half-baked desire to see something that probably didn’t even exist. You just thought you might’ve been able to see—

Your foot caught on a half-buried stone, and you were sent crashing into the earth, your shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. You were left on the ground, cursing under your breath and holding your aching arm as you scrambled to get back on your feet, to keep moving before your would-be murderers caught up with you. You weren’t fast enough, though – you couldn’t be, not when they’d always been on your heels, not when you’d already given them an opportunity to put their quarry out of its misery. You’d barely started to push yourself up when they emerged from the tangle of trees, guns cocked and hunting knives drawn. You shrunk into yourself, threw your arms over your face in a last-ditch effort to protect yourself, despite knowing that a bullet would tear through your skin like paper, despite being able to picture your body lying lifeless on the forest floor, bleeding out in the dirt like a wild animal. The last thing you saw was the oldest man, raising his riffle and aiming towards your chest before you shut your eyes.

You heard a shot, sudden and deafening, but the impact never came.

You felt something whip past you. There was a scream, wordless and torn and cut short with a ragged screech and a wet, visceral sound – like flesh being carved open, like teeth tearing into raw meat. It was all you could do to curl into yourself, sinking into your self-made shelter as the forest descended into the sounds of carnage, only falling silent when there was nothing left to cut down. Even then, it took you long, agonizing seconds to open your eyes, to take in the gore splattered across the grass and dirt, the guns that’d been bent and twisted into shapes they weren’t meant to hold. A disembodied leg laid to your side, the torso it’d been ripped from impaled on a branch nearly twenty feet off of the ground. Clumps of torn muscle and split entrails shined reddish-silver in the limited moonlight, but you could only focus on the gore for so long.

Only a few yards away, a man stood in front of you. Only, it wasn’t a man, not really, not when you looked beyond its – his? hers? theirs? – vaguely humanoid form. Its long legs and lanky arms were coated in a thin layer of grey, shaggy fur that grew shorter and finer over its defined chest. You could make out curved talons extending from its massive hands, a pair of ringed antennae curled back along its scalp, a pair of tattered wings folded against its back. Its head might’ve been the strangest part of its anatomy; low and stooped, too round to resemble anything human and too featureless inspire anything but an uncanny sense that you weren’t supposed to be here. From a distance, the only thing you could really make out was its eyes. They were gigantic, nearly spherical – orbs of pure crimson that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before you could stop yourself, your attention drifted downward, to the space between its legs. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to recognize what you were looking at – the shaft absent of all veins or definition beyond a perfect spiral ridge that coiled from the base to the flushed, lilac-shaded head. The tip was tapered, ending in a sharp slant and budding with something white and thick. The entire thing looked almost painfully erect, inflating it to a size that, even when compared to the rest of its massive body, sparked a raw, preservationist kind of terror inside of you. Fear took root in the pit of your stomach, sprouting up and into the hollow of your chest, making it difficult to breathe, to resist the urge to curl back into yourself and never come out.

Second to only your fear, just as pervasive and twice as instinctual, was your arousal.

It would’ve been impossible to read its nonexistent expression, but as it shifted its weight, turning to face you, you could’ve sworn the creature was looking at you with as much interest as you held for it. Its scarlet eyes were wide and unfaltering, its gaze only growing more intense as it took a step in your direction, then another, approaching you in slow, tense increments. Despite its stiffness, it didn’t seem awkward or nervous, let alone afraid of you. If anything, it seemed like it was trying not to scare you, even if you couldn’t say there was much weight behind the gesture when you were sitting among the viscera of its last three victims. Still, you held your ground, not daring to so much as blink until it was standing in front of you.

From a distance, it’d been inhumanly tall. Now that it was close enough to touch, it seemed downright monstrous.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, it reached down, towards you. You waited for a beat, then another, and when it failed to pull away or bury its talons in your chest, you hesitantly placed your hand in its palm, a knot forming in the back of your throat as its claws folded and everything up to your wrist was completely encompassed. With a sharp tug, it pulled you to your feet and held steady you when your legs, still shaking, proved too weak to hold your weight. You let out a fleeting, nervous laugh, and in response, it chittered – the sound high-pitched and tittering. It was cute, in the way seeing a lion play with a ball of yarn would’ve been cute. You were still eminently aware that the creature in front of you could end your life, but still.

“Hey,” you managed, eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. You didn’t even know if it could understand you, but you weren’t sure what else to do. “Did you… did you save me?”

Another round of chittering, a slight glimmer in its otherwise blank stare. You smiled. “Thank you, I— I’m not from around here, and I didn’t know I’d have to look out for people like that.” You bowed your head, attempting to let your eyes fall to the ground, but rather, your eyes found its cock again, pressed against its abdomen and leaking. The adrenaline that’d coursed through your veins a few minutes ago was already starting to fade, making room for something else, something closer to an anxious sort of zeal. Something that made you want to do something less than advisable.

Slowly, doing what little you could to stop your hands from shaking, you reached out, your fingertips barely brushing against its soft cheek. It nuzzled into your touch, earning a small smile, a trickle of a laugh. “Poor thing,” you mumbled, almost comforted by the fact that it couldn’t respond, couldn’t mock your poor-excuse for a seductively saccharine tone. “Do you need help with that?”

You saw its talon’s twitch, its wings flutter almost imperceptibly against its back. You weren’t aware that you were moving, not until your back was pressed against the rough bark of the nearest oak, until you felt the clawed hand that it’d wrapped around your waist drop to your hip, then your thigh. The tips of its curved talons scraped against your skin as it ran its claws from your waist to your knee, cutting through the delicate fabric of your shorts and panties and discarding the material without a second thought. The open air was cold against your exposed skin, but something quickly replaced it – a gentle, oppressive warmth that seemed to sap the chill from your skin. Your legs were thrown over its shoulders, held in place by its massive hands as it buried its face between your thighs. You barely had time to straighten your back, to brace yourself before—

Oh.

Oh.

It was more tongue-like than you’d expected.

Not to say that it was a tongue – you weren’t really sure what you should call it. Long, split at the tip, just rough enough to earn a breathy gasp, a new wave of heat rushing from your core to your head, obscuring your few remaining rational thoughts with a shimmering haze. Its tongue (tendril? proboscis?) ran over the length of your exposed slit, leaving a trail of thick, viscous saliva dripping down the inside of your thighs before jerking its head upward and finding your clit, the tip of its tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as soon as it recognized the airy sounds now falling steadily from your lips for the unabashed moans they were. It was almost experimental, the way it bent and curled its tongue, clearly working towards a quickly approaching goal but constantly looking for a way to get there that much faster, to make your legs twitch that much harder, to force the coil writhing violently in the pit of your stomach wind up that much tighter.

It was all you could do to arch your back against the oak’s trunk and clench your eyes shut, your hands falling to the softened ridge between its curved antennae. Only half-consciously, your attention dominated by the feeling of its coarse tongue swirling over your clit, you raked your fingers through its cropped fur, doing what you could to show the creature your appreciation, your gratitude. You tried to be gentle, but the curling tips of its tongue slipped into your tight entrance and the world burnt white, your body jerking forward and your nails biting into its scalp. There was a deep, guttural sound from somewhere deep in its chest, and its hands rose to your hips, claws scrapping lightly against your skin as its tongue fucked into you. It was thin, but long and so flexible – twisting and coiling against the sensitive walls of your cunt, never repeating the same blissful pattern of thrusts and thrashes more than once. You found yourself grinding into its mouth, seeking out whatever friction you could with the clumsy movements of your hips. The pressure, the weight, the sensation – it was more than you could handle. You could already feel it, a certain tightness in your chest, a tension in your core that—

Without warning, without satisfaction, it pulled away from you, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from a high that you never quite reached. You let out a long whine, more desperate than disappointed, and as if to apologize, the creature nuzzled against the inside of your thigh, chirping softly. Thankfully, your reprieve was a short one. With its hands still on your hips, your body still held aloft by its inhuman strength, you were dragged away from the oak and into its chest as it stood to its full height. Your chest was slotted against the creature’s, the pointed head of its cock pressed flush to your dripping cunt. Its wings fanned out, its hips rolling against yours, and a sharp, aching moan was drawn from your lips as it thrust into you, finally filling you to the brim.

For a long moment, it was all you could do to bury your face in its chest and try to put together a coherent thought. Only half of its length was inside of you, and yet, you could practically feel it pressing into your core, rubbing against the walls of your cunt, the cork-screw ridge that ran from the tip to the base threatening to split you open. It didn’t, though, and even if it had, you couldn’t be sure you would’ve cared. Before the creature could even begin to move, to fuck into you from below, you were grinding against it, mindlessly and desperately trying to chase that fullness, that peak. It didn’t take long for the creature to answer your fervor. There was a raised notch just above the base of its cock, a notch that caught on your clit as it beat into you with heavy, rough strokes. A talon was dragged down the back of your top, tearing the fabric away and allowing its tongue to lave over your chest. All of its gentleness, all of its restraint was thrown aside as its claws dug into your hips, cutting through skin and tinting your pleasure with an intensity that wouldn’t have been possible without a drop of pain.

A scream, wild and euphoric, was torn from your throat, and you wrapped your legs around its waist, dragging your own nails over its back as you fought to keep some part of yourself grounded. Even that was an effort made in vain. You heard its wings shift, felt the air rush against your skin, and suddenly, you were breaking through the canopy – speared on the creature’s cock mid-air, being fucked against the backdrop of the dark, velveteen sky.  The shock, the adrenaline, the thrill was enough to leave you clenching around the creature’s cock, your vision burning white as you came undone. You might’ve been able to come down, to melt back into its thrusts and its affection, if something hadn’t clicked in its chest, if its wings hadn’t started to move a little faster, if something hadn’t happened and the creature hadn’t started to emit a sort of reverberating droll – the sort throbbing vibration that only seemed to make the friction against your clit, the feeling of it stretching you open more perfect. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed in that hazy, half-conscious state – limp and moaning in the arms of a monster, always either spilling over your high or riding out the aftershocks. It only came to a climax – a real climax – when the creature stiffened against you, its cock twitching violently inside of your cunt. It pulled you as close as it possibly could and, with one last wave of pulsing reverberation, released something thick inside of you – viscous and warm and translucent. Like sap. Like nectar.

Light-headed and blissed-out, you buried your face in its chest as it began to descend, the sound of your giddy laughter muffled by its fur. This time, when it pulled away from you with an apologetic chirp, you didn’t complain, only pressing one more lingering kiss into the curve of its shoulder and letting it draw back. Your legs were too weak to hold your weight, so you braced yourself against the nearest oak as the creature disappeared into the dark of the forest, returning a few moments later with a bundle of bloody fabric in its arms. A shirt – a little torn but mostly in one piece, taken from one of the hunters’ corpses, clearly meant to replace your own ruined clothes. You smiled as you slipped it over your head. It was a size too big, and it was sure to raise a few questions, but it would do until you could find help. Whatever ‘help’ meant, at that point.

When you were finished, the creature took you up again; wrapping an arm around your waist and catching you under your knees, pulling you against its broad chest. This time, as it soared over the forest, you were able to admire view, the star-lit sky and sprawling woodland before it landed where the forest had started to thin and give way to the outskirts of a small town. Slowly, carefully, it lowered you to the ground, keeping you upright when your unsteady balance wavered. You laughed and, for longer than a moment, you held its unblinking gaze, Eventually, your hands fell into its claws, your smile turning bitter-sweet and sentimental. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a slight chittering, a gentle squeeze to your hand. You felt its tongue against your cheek and let your eyes fall shut. By the time you could bring yourself to open them again, Mothman – because it was Mothman, you could only deny it for so long – was gone, barely a silhouette in the distance. You heard the crack of thunder, and watched it fly away as the sky broke open and rain spilled out.

The next day, you would learn that a bridge about twenty miles outside of the city the creature left you in had collapsed the night before, killing hundreds.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster fucking #yandere mothman #mothman x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Omg why did I just notice that your name is jj too 😭. I’m sorry for spamming you with ideas but I just have to ask about this one too. What about a classification au with caregiver!Spencer’s bringing little!reader into the BAU for a day and the entire team trying to talk to and hold the reader but they’re too shy to leave Spencer’s arms except for hotch because he just gives off safe dad vibes ( I have no other way to describe it😭)?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ meeting ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| spencer reid x reader

a/n: safe dad vibes from hotch is so real of you

warnings: anxiety, pet names

-

Spencer’s anxiety is especially high as he walks the stairs in the bullpen towards the table room. You’re sat on his hip happily, chewing on the necklace he bought you for trips out in public when you couldn’t have a teether out.

Logically Reid knows he has nothing to be nervous about, the team is a group of caregivers and flips, and they’re all supportive when Jj slips around them as she’s one of the flips. This should be fine he tells himself, hoisting you closer to his chest as he presses the wood door open.

The team is standing around waiting, knowing they’d be meeting you today and all very excited. When Reid surveys the room over he notes that Garcia must’ve baked as there’s a plate of cookies and cupcakes on the table, there’s also a small basket of toys Jj must’ve brought, and a stack of blankets Morgan definitely brought as they’re the same ones he keeps in his go-bag for any little they run into on a case. It eases Spencer to know that his team put thought into bringing things along to meet you, it’s sweet.

“Hi guys.” You don’t move from your spot tucked into Reid as he greets each member of the team.

They’re cooing and awing at you, it’s making your cheeks flush pink with all the attention. Reid of course notices and that only spurs him on to try and get you to interact with the team. Your head peaks up after the small reassuring murmur Spencer gives you, just low enough that only you can hear him saying everything will be fine. You hadn’t seemed nervous on the ride over or on the walk into the room but Reid suspects having all eyes on you can be a bit intimidating.

“Hi sweetie, it’s nice to meet you.” Garcias grin is wider than wide, her hand is extended as she crouches a bit to be at your eye level. You grip tighter at Spencer’s sweater, tucking your face back into him with red cheeks. It makes the team smile with a couple comments about how cute you are.

“They’re pretty shy, reminds me of when we saw Jj regressed for the first time.” Morgan gets a jab in the side from Jj but the blonde nods, Spencer hopes that tonight goes over with less tears than seeing Jj little for the first time did.

“They’re just attached to Reid, they’ll come around eventually.” Hotch comments and Reid makes an effort not to look down at you as your head turns to look at Aaron. Spencer had expected you to cling around Morgan or Garcia, they’re usually who littles want to go to on cases, but Hotch doesn’t seem to be bothered by your eyes gluing themselves to him.

Conversations start to flow, talks of weekend plans and banter over past jokes, it’s comfortable enough for you to watch the team. Hotch glances at you every now and then, a small smile on his lips each time, and eventually you get sick of only being held by Spencer. You tug on Reid’s sweater before he’s ceasing his chuckling to look down at you, grinning wildly when your arms outstretch towards Hotch.

Aaron takes no time at all to scoop you up and let you latch around him. It’s a different feel than when Spencer holds you. There’s no smell of old books, no knitting of his sweater to lean against and instead your cheek finds Hotchs suit jacket. It’s smooth, obviously well taken care of and ironed out, you like it.

“Guess we know who their favorite is.” Derek grumbles but there’s no real malice in it, only a teasing tone and soft look at you and Hotch.

#jj writes #criminal minds agere #caregiver!spencer #little!reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader