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literaila · 1 month

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remembering

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru has a bad day

warnings: canon angst, sad satoru, worried reader, etc.

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year five.

satoru has been sitting on the couch for over an hour, probably. he's been staring at the wall and he hasn't even been thinking, really, but remembering.

today is a bad day. that was clear enough when he woke up with a headache, the other half of his bed empty--because you'd been gone that past few days on a mission somewhere satoru can't remember the name of.

and today was a bad day when he took megumi out on his own mission, surveying the area for anything weak and small, and the boy couldn't manage to summon his shikigami for some unknown reason.

and it was a bad day when megumi asked why can't you do everything for us? when he complained the whole way home and said i don't want to do this. i don't want to be--

today's just a bad day.

and it was a bad day exactly six years ago, when suguru left. and it's still bad now because satoru is still alone.

even though you came home a couple of hours ago and have been messing around with the kids since.

you didn't say anything about his mood at dinner, but satoru knows that you can feel it. he can feel it--the looming, the storm. he can feel his own muscles shaking beneath his skin like they're ready to burst.

he can feel it every time his heart contracts, and every time his heart remembers that it has no purpose. that he's just a man; if only that.

and honestly--he's a lucky person. he knows that.

but he doesn't feel lucky today.

and he's been sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, for far too long. his eyes almost burn. it can't be tears though, because satoru isn't upset. it can't be tears because he doesn't cry. maybe he hasn't been blinking.

maybe he's already dead, floating in a hell designed just for him.

god, he hates being alone.

it's when he thinks this that you walk into the room, slightly bouncing, a fresh reprieve from everything else.

satoru manages a small smile at you.

“hey,” you say to him, voice soft and sweet as you walk over. but there's a question in the word because satoru knows you’ve been waiting for him. just like you always do. “you weren’t in your room. what are you doing?”

but you don’t give him enough time to respond—not that he was going to—before your leg brushes against his. you've reached the other side of the room in almost an instant, or maybe satoru's just making things up.

your hands go to his face, soft and warm, brushing against skin that satoru wants to scrub dry. “you tired?” you ask him, rubbing at the spot under his eye.

you're standing between his legs, just a bit taller than him like this, staring at him so intently that it feels cruel. satoru's face fades into something neutral--something lost. he doesn't want to talk to you like this.

it's simple when you begin to climb on top of him, hands using his shoulders to keep yourself steady. you wrap your legs around his torso, almost like you're kneeling against him, and then your hands move, playing with his hair.

“no,” he mumbles, not looking at you.

he doesn't think that he can stand your eyes right now. or your heart, or your voice. there's never been a moment where he's wanted you to move away from him, but the prickling feeling under his skin is almost instinctual.

satoru has spent his life keeping people away, blocking them from ever reaching him, and it's almost infuriating that he can't do that to you right now.

that he doesn't really want to.

you're not even that close, and still. the feeling of you relaxing against him increases his hesitation tenfold.

should he pull you closer or push you away?

are you safer falling against the floor, or into him?

satoru doesn't know. he doesn't know anything, really. suguru would tell him that if he was here now.

but he's not, satoru thinks, and his mood darkens once again.

still, you're smiling at him like you know he’s lying. “how’d your thing with megumi go? he told me that you said you thought he was improving,” you nudge him, “were you trying to make him feel better?”

satoru gives in and brushes a hand across your face, moving hair away from your eyes. “he’s good.”

“wow. ‘good,’” you shake your head. “such glowing remarks for your only son. you’re a great teacher, you know? maybe next you'll explain the ranking system to him."

“i thought you already did that.”

“i'm kidding, satoru,” you smile at him, tilting your head. and then you frown, and the world spins. “you okay?”

his heart falters. satoru hates lying to you. “yeah, i’m fine.”

“you’ve got wrinkles,” you say and smooth the furrow in his brow. “what’s up?”

“nothing.”

“you know that you’re a terrible liar?”

satoru sighs, he attempts a smile, but it's futile because he doesn't have one, right now. and he should be happy that you're here--he should feel like clinging to you, sleeping right next to you like he's wanted to for days--but he doesn't.

and maybe that's worse than anything else.

how ridiculous would suguru call him now? when he's got you right where he's always wanted you, right there in front of him and he can't even do anything?

how hard would he laugh at satoru?

“hey,” you say, a bit serious. you give him a look. “you can talk to me.”

“i know.”

“did something happen?”

“no.”

“was it megumi? he didn’t say anything—“

“nothing happened.”

“well, then what’s up?”

“nothing. i’m fine. i’m good.”

you've always been able to see through him, always known how he felt before he could. and he likes that, usually. he likes that you understand him, that you care.

he should be basking in it. in you, in your sweet smile and simple composure. you're a pillar against him, strong and sure, and satoru feels like he's suffocating.

how can you act so normal right now? today?

“you’re good?” you repeat, not a question. “you look…”

satoru shakes his head, he looks towards the floor but nothing has changed. suguru still hasn't come back and his carpet is still white. “are you bullying me right now?”

“no,” you say defensively. usually, it would be a joke, but it's like you can tell that his ego is already bruised. “i was going to say handsome.”

“sure.”

“satoru…” you’ve got a frown on. “what’s wrong?”

“like i said, nothing.”

“will you tell me? please?”

“there’s nothing to tell.”

“if somethings wrong i want—“

“can you just drop it?” his voice is hard, rough. it feels like he just swallowed dirt. satoru can tell that he's on the verge of breaking--falling to pieces under your whims and your charms--and he doesn’t want to tell anyone anything.

especially not you and especially not when you look like that. when you're one of the only good things he has. when he could so easily destroy you.

satoru swallows.

he knows he’s just ruined your mood. he knows that he shouldn’t be short with you, shouldn’t avoid or eyes or pretend like he doesn’t love it when you sit in his lap.

but currently, he would rather feel nothing, empty, than anything else. he would rather feel like bursting under the weight of his power than upset, than sick with himself.

if you keep asking him… he’ll give you an answer.

and it won’t be one you want.

“i—“ you pause, observing his face. you’ve lost the teasing in your eyes, the clarity on your face. unfortunately, satoru can feel it as you tense. “okay. you don’t have to tell me.”

he nods but doesn’t answer. he should say thank you, but he’s not grateful.

just a little more, he almost pleads, keep going.

but you won’t because he asked you not to. because you’re better than him, and you flinch away from conflict like it’ll bruise you.

“i, um, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to push.”

he sighs again. “it’s fine.”

you bite your lip, and satoru knows that you want to say something—ask something—but can’t. he can almost feel the words on the tip of your tongue, begging to come out.

there is a point. and a cause, and significance too.

no, there's not.

still, you try again, straightening on his lap. you mess with the hair by his ear. “did tsumiki tell you about her science fair? it’s in a couple of weeks.”

“no.”

“she wants to do a lemon circuit.”

“why?”

you shrug. “lemons are cool.”

“are they?” he asks, and it’s almost a joke, but it lacks the warmth of his voice. it lacks his amusement, any care.

“uh, yeah.”

satoru wants to smile at you, but it still feels impossible. his voice feels small, and if he says anything else it won't be loud enough for you to hear.

he wants so desperately to just give in to you. to shake himself out of this.

but when he tries, he meets a wall of his own creation, the same moment over and over.

he wishes he could give into this, your prodding, your smiles, but he can’t.

and then, so softly, you ask, “do you want me to stop talking?”

satoru exhales. “no.”

he doesn't know what he wants.

“okay. do you want me to get off?”

you're so arrogant.

“no.”

you tuck your chin in. “are you lying to me, satoru?”

satoru looks away, towards the wall. towards a past he can't manage to erase no matter how hard he tries. “no.”

“i can leave you alone,” you whisper, “if you want me to.”

“i don’t want you to.”

“if you need space, that’s fine.”

“i don’t.”

“okay.”

satoru nods. “okay.”

a moment passes when satoru's chest is tight, his breath short and his body completely at will. he can't do anything right now, not breathe, not move, not love you the way you deserve.

absolutely nothing.

and he wants to scream at this version of himself. he wants to pick himself up off of the floor just so he can kick himself back down. but there's no point to that, no point to any of it.

his eyes still burn. maybe he has something stuck in them.

“i just…” you start a moment later. it's almost like you know that he's falling apart like your body can feel it, even if you can't. the pause in your voice allows satoru's anger to surface.

he knows that you can't help it, really. but it doesn't matter.

“why can’t you leave this alone?” he asks, voice that same rough thing it was a minute ago. that cruel tone that he hopes will make you flinch away from him.

but it doesn't.

you frown. “because i’m worried about you. you’re not talking to me, and you won’t look me in the eye, and you seem upset.”

he looks you in the eye. he knows his face is hard, just a plane of rays and lines. “look, i'm fine.”

this time you look away first, away from the wrong version of him, shaking your head.

“you don’t need to worry about me," satoru tells you, lump in his throat. his hands are plastered to his side, but his fingers move in a familiar motion. he could burn himself down right now, he thinks, it would only take a moment.

“well, i’m going to. you think you’d have gotten used to it by now.”

satoru rolls his eyes.

you tilt your head so you can look at him more directly, get his eyes on your face. “i don’t know what to do, okay? you’re not like megumi or tsumiki, you don't tell me these things. and i can’t read your mind.”

“good.”

“why don’t you want to talk to me?” your face is soft, concerned.

satoru looks away. “i already told you, there’s nothing to talk about. i don’t even know why you’re worried.”

“because of that,” you say, pointing at him. "you keep doing that."

“doing what?”

“that. you’re being short with me.”

“i'm just talking,” satoru closes his eyes. "i thought that was what you wanted."

he can't see you, but he can feel it as you lean back, away from him, and your body relaxes--but in defeat. he wants to open his eyes and study you, observe you like some science experiment.

and he wants never to look at you again.

you breathe in, intentionally. “you don’t want me to talk to you, and you don’t want me to go away. what do you want, satoru? what can i do to help?”

“nothing…” he answers, whispering. “nothing,” he repeats.

because it's true. if you could go back and fix everything for him. if you could've been there this morning when he was still a person and not a corpse, still a father and yours instead of a boy you once knew--if you could've done that, he'd be fine.

or he wouldn't be. satoru doesn't even know anymore.

“i won’t ridicule you for whatever’s wrong,” you tell him, as a reassurance, just in case he wasn’t sure. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“wouldn’t you?”

“satoru.”

“look,” he sits up, holding onto you by your waist. your legs tighten around him. “there’s nothing wrong. you don’t need—i don’t want you to worry about me.”

“i can’t help it.”

“well, try.”

you look away, towards the door. satoru can see you contemplating the words--he can feel the argument, the call of hypocrisy. he would tell you to talk to him, he would say that you needed to get it off your chest.

somehow, satoru doesn't care. he'd rather be a hypocrite--cruel--and protect you from this than let you inside. let you mold in the core of him, rotten and unused.

you sigh, eventually, like you know what he's thinking. “do you want to go to bed?”

it takes a moment, but satoru nods. he’s not tired—he’s almost wide awake—but at least being asleep would be better than this.

at least if he can fall asleep and wake up then it won't be today anymore. then he won't have to think about all of this and try not to let the thoughts overflow out of him.

“okay,” you finally smile again, though it’s slight. almost unnatural on your face. “c’mon.”

you climb off of him, grabbing his hand to pull him up.

satoru lets you lead the way to his bedroom, focusing on the feeling of your smaller hand in his. you’re warm, and satoru could reach up and feel your pulse.

maybe he should. he’s not even sure if he’s alive right now.

but when you reach for his door handle he stops, shaking your hand from his.

it’s almost unconscious. his body knows what he wants.

he immediately feels the cold, but there’s no going back now. he can't grab your hand and pretend it was an accident, satoru can't go back to being the person who falls asleep in your arms, wrapped entirely around you.

he just can't.

you turn to look at him, tilting your head in question.

"can i--" he stops, swallowing. this time, the burning in his eyes is different.

"what?" you ask, softly.

"could--i think i just need some space. tonight."

"okay, i can--" you pause, eyes widening. "oh, you..." you look towards his door, back to him. satoru watches the realization hit your face, the pain.

he wants to look away but he can't.

"is that okay?" he wonders, voice smaller, softer. it feels almost natural.

"yeah, that's fine," you nod your head immediately, too fast, too sharp. "that's totally fine. whatever you need."

satoru leans back. "are you sure?"

"yeah, satoru, of course. i'll just, um--" you shake your head, now, backing away. and then you sidestep him, trying to get away as fast as possible. "i'll see you in the morning, okay? just... you know, get me, if there's anything. if you need anything, i mean. if..." you stop there.

satoru's heart feels rotten at the bewildered look on your face, the sudden fear in your eyes.

but he only nods. he's not allowed to change his mind.

and when you begin to back away, down the hall to your room, satoru doesn't open the door. he doesn't move.

he watches you as you run far away from him, your body tense and your back turned towards him.

if you want to kill me, then kill me, satoru hears. there would be a point to that.

he stares at the space where you were even after you're gone, shut away behind your door, not having bothered to look back at him. he waits like you might come back. like he wants you to.

and then, as if he's completely okay, satoru opens his door.

when he closes it, the sound echoes in his core.

satoru lays in bed for hours.

he'd forgotten how difficult it was to fall asleep without someone there beside him.

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marvelsmylife · 2 months

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Don’t go

Pairing: Cassian x reader

Plot: there was something about Cassian that you were really drawn to. You needed to be by his side at all time. What happens when he has to go on a very long mission by himself and you beg him not to go. Will he listen or will he break your heart and leave anyways.

a/n this is based off of this request. I'm sorry for all the angst I promise this is going to have a very happy ending in part two

warning: angst through and through. Everyone is worried for the reader. Azriel being really protective over the reader.

Part Two

The normally cool and collected Cassian was anxious as he flew home from an important four-month-long mission. Memories of the last conversation you shared haunted him for the last four months and he wondered if you still hated him for his harsh words.

“Please stay,” you cried as you watched Cassian pack for the mission he was assigned to tomorrow.

Being friends for years, you and Cassian were practically joined at the hip. You often found comfort in each other's arms and weren’t used to being separated for more than a couple of days.

This mission was different though. He was going to be gone for four months, and he didn’t know how he was going to survive without you for so long. It didn’t help that you also voiced your disapproval and was begging him to stay with you.

Growing frustrated by the argument, Cassian blurted out: “Gods y/n, no wonder you don’t have any friends besides us. You’re so damn clingy you're making me want to be as far away from you as possible!”

Cassian immediately regretted saying those words the second he saw you tearing up. “Well, wish granted,” you whispered, tears now cascading down your face: “I hope you have a miserable time on your mission,” and left before he could say anything.

The following day, Cassian left without saying a word to you. He was still so hurt by your reaction to him leaving that he thought it would be best to leave you alone to cool off.

What Cassian didn’t know was that you were an absolute mess when you discovered he left without saying goodbye. It took Rhysand calling Madja to sedate you for you to finally settle down and eventually fell asleep.

Your friends were worried about you as they watched you turn from a bright and cheery fae into a shell of your former self. Everyone tried to help you, but you kept your shields up and refused to talk to anyone.

Every night, they’d hear your cries for Cassian, and one of them would be there to rock you back to sleep. It got so bad that Rhysand was tempted to pull Cassian from his mission so he could possibly fix whatever was wrong with you. Of course, he couldn’t; the mission was too vital, and when he last spoke with him, he was close to whatever Rhysand needed.

When Cassian finally arrived home, he was expecting to be greeted by you and being bombarded with questions on how the mission went. He missed you and wanted to apologize for the fight that occurred between the two of you. Instead, he was greeted with silence. Not one of his friends was there to greet him. “Y/n? Rhysand? Is anyone home?” Cassian called out, thinking maybe no one was home.

“Yes, we just don’t want to talk to you right now,” Cassian heard Mor’s voice before the blonde finally appeared with a scowl painted on her face.

Cassian was surprised by the tone in Mor’s voice. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcome. I’ll be in my room, I guess.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Mor blocked Cassian’s path: “You are going straight to y/n’s room and apologize for what you said to her when you left four months ago.”

Cassian felt his throat go dry at the mention of your name. While he was ready to apologize for the fight, he thought because you didn’t hold grudges, he expected you to be over what he had said: “I know what I said was harsh, but she should be over what I said by now.”

“She isn't though, and she has every right to still be mad at you. She refuses to leave her room or eat, and we're taking turns being by her side at night because she has night terrors while screaming your name.” Azriel suddenly appeared and was ready to kick his brother's ass for what he had put you through: “If you don’t go and apologize for what you said to her, I’ll make you regret it.”

Cassian was surprised by Azriel’s threat towards him, especially because you two weren’t close before he left. Cassian felt a peg of jealousy at the thought of you getting close to Azriel while he was away. “Go apologize now!” Azriel repeated before leaving with the equally angry Mor following closely behind.

Cassian thought Azriel was exaggerating when he described your current state until he entered your room. He was absolutely devastated at the scene that was in front of him. Your normally neat room was messy, with you sitting at the edge of your bed staring out the window. As he got closer, he noticed your once radian face and healthy figure was replaced with an alarmingly thin body and a sunken face. “Y/n?” Cassian whispered.

“Oh. Hi Cassian,” you replied in a monotone: “I didn’t realize you were coming home today.”

Against his better judgment, Cassian stocked over to you and hugged you tightly. A part of him broke when you didn’t hug him back: “Y/n, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” you replied, still not hugging him back: “Just let me be alone so I won’t annoy you or anyone else with my clinginess.”

Cassian shuddered at the realization you used his own words against him. He was about to start apologizing profusely when he heard Rhysand's voice in his head: My office. Now! Shaking off Rhysand’s words, Cassian tried to hold your hands, but you crossed them over your chest before he got the chance to: “Listen, I wanted to apologize for what I said when I was leaving for the mission. I know it’s not a good excuse, but I was stressed because I didn’t want to go in the first place. I wanted nothing more than to stay with you.” Cassian knelt down: "How about I take you out to dinner? We could discuss how we can rebuild our friendship?”

“Don’t bother,” you mumbled: “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Cassian felt like he was struck with an ash arrow at your words: “You don’t mean that.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you ignored him and got under your covers. Cassian wanted to join you and apologize repeatedly when he heard Rhysand’s voice again Cassian, get in my office this instant!

Cassian reluctantly exited your room, but just as he was about to leave, he said: “I’m sorry for causing you so much distress. I really hope you forgive me.”

#cassian imagine #cassian x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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meanbossart · 2 months

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Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.

#Funfact THIS is the post that got me flagged last time so i'm really tempting fate right now LOL #ask #art #tutorial #resource

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neouture · 9 months

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Admiring You

Pairing — Jaemin x Reader

Words — 3,530 words

Genre — 18+, smut, fluff

Warnings — Fem!reader, established relationship. Use of petnames (Jaemin is whipped about being called “baby”), dirty talk, cursing, oral sex (f. receiving), grinding/humping against each other, mild nipple/breast play, lots of praises, mild spanking, jaemin is enthusiastic about reader's ass for this one lmao, unprotected sex (don't do it !), creampie.

“What?”

The corners of your lips rise in a small smile when the mirror's reflection shows Jaemin in awe. He is sitting at the edge of the bed right behind you, but even in such a position where your back is facing him, he manages to find your reflection on the full-length mirror in front of you.

“You,” Jaemin sighs, licking his bottom lip while his eyes do a quick scan of you —from head to toe, he hopes his gaze doesn’t miss a single inch of the flesh in front of him. “God, you’re so-”.

He doesn’t even finish the sentence, yet he has you shying away from his words and eyes.

“Yeah, right,” you crack a small, timid laugh, “stop staring at me, I mean it!”

He's unlucky you're standing right next to the chair of your desk that, strategically, has a big, soft cushion on it. Because the minute you spot it, you throw it at him playfully. However, you're unlucky he is great at everything that involves physical activity, so the playful teasing does nothing to him because before you can tell, he has already caught the cushion with his hands. No impact, and no desired effect either.

Disappointed, you return to your previous task, and Jaemin seemingly does the same —you’re fixing your wet hair, and he’s back staring at you in awe.

“I was thinking we could order takeout,” you tell him, trying to fill the void of silence with anything.

Jaemin hums in response.

“I really don’t feel like going out right now, I just took a shower. Plus there’s this show I’ve been wanting to watch with you-” another hum from your boyfriend as a response, so your furrowed eyebrows find his reflection in the mirror, slightly annoyed. “Jae?”

It isn't uncommon for Jaemin to get lost in his trail of thoughts. “Mhm?”

When you turn around to confront him, you realize he isn’t lost in his trail of thoughts like he usually is. He is right there with you, his gaze is all over your figure, and his mind is there —he’s just planning something out.

“Jae-”

“Take off the bathrobe,” he asks, without thinking twice —he might as well do so, because the bathrobe isn’t doing anything to hide your precious body from him. “Please”.

It looks good on you, he admits. But you look way better without it.

“Do you want to order take out yes or no?”

The sudden plea makes your skin feel hot, but you try to pretend it didn’t affect you at all for any reason. It’s a silly game you often play with yourself, where you try to drag out Jaemin’s desire until he is too close to the edge to bear it.

“I’m not hungry,” he tells you with half a smile, tilting his head. “I mean I am, but not for food”.

The way he is staring at you from head to toe tells you everything you need to know about his innuendo, but isn't it more fun to act clueless? To pretend you don't understand him until he's too desperate for you to keep on dragging this little game on?

“So?”

“So take off your bathrobe,” Jaemin insists again, this time pulling you closer to him, trapping you between his legs while he sits at the edge of the bed. “Please?”

You stare at him, placing both your hands on his shoulders.

“Should I?” you tease your boyfriend with a cheeky smile peeking through the corners of your lips.

“I know you want to,” he sighs, sneaking both his hands to the back of your legs and hooking them around your inner thighs. He caresses them oh so sensually, dragging them up and then a bit down, making you wish for more. “Don’t you?”

You pretend you think about it, but his intimate touch makes it hard for you not to give in.

“You want it,” Jaemin drags the tip of his digits a bit too far up. Too close to your core that’s aching for him, too close to offering any kind of stimulation that it’s going to make you lose your mind. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept staring at me the whole time. Your eyes were all over my ass”.

He feels his cock twitching when the words come out of your mouth, because you’re definitely not that far from the truth. He was, indeed, staring —how couldn’t he? The silk fabric hugged your body tightly and left nothing to the imagination; it sticks to your flesh like another set of skin, and it also lets Jaemin know you’re wearing absolutely nothing underneath it.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you kept bending over just for me to watch,” your boyfriend counter attacks, and suddenly you feel shy. You were teasing him, yes, but it's kind of embarrassing he brings it up.

“I wasn’t,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I was just brushing my hair”.

“Hm,” Jaemin hums, finally dragging his fingers all the way to your naked core, rubbing the tip of two against your slit.

Dripping.

“Are you sure?” he asks, defiantly. With his penetrative and intimidating gaze all over you, like it's some sort of trial.

Like he has to prove something to you.

“Yes, baby,” you murmur, moving the palms of your hands from his shoulders to his neck. Your boyfriend tilts his head, just at the same time his hands move forward to the naked flesh of your ass. When you feel him squeezing it a bit too harsh, you know you’ve hit the spot.

“Baby?” he repeats with a hoarse voice, like he’s trying to remain collected.

“What?” a smile brightens your face, “you don’t like it when I call you that?”

You know the answer, but you still want to hear it from him. In exchange, though, all you get is silence and a challenging gaze, one that tells you you’re pushing him closer to the edge faster than expected.

“Hm, baby?” you ask again, tilting your head at him. “Cat got your tongue?”

With a sudden movement, Jaemin pulls you towards his lap —you’re no longer standing between his spread legs, but sitting on top of his throbbing bulge that feels tightly pressed against your wet pussy.

This time around, he doesn’t ask you to take off the silk robe. His hands do so delicately, untangling the barely-made ribbon at the front to reveal your naked body to him like you're some sort of gift he has to unwrap.

“Fuck,” he sighs when the fabric is discarded to the floor, leaving you completely exposed for him.

His gaze flies directly to your breasts, the sight of their perfect curvature and hardened nipples makes his cock twitch painfully under you, demanding your attention.

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin whispers underneath his breath, too quiet to be heard from a distance but you pick it fairly well. He places his hands on your hips and pulls you even closer to him, until his tongue latches and swirls around one of your hardened buds.

“God,” his soft lips and wet tongue feel heavenly on your breasts. Your skin gets covered in goosebumps quickly, and you soon feel your body trembling against him. “Don’t- fuck Jaemin, don’t stop”.

He smiles against your skin, but loses no time to provide you with even more stimulation. He drags his hands from your hips to your arse, and he grips it tightly while pressing his body against yours.

“So good,” Jaemin murmurs, caressing and squeezing your ass while guiding your hips over his lap. Your body reacts instinctively, and the more he touches you, the more you grind against his bulge.

“Yeah?” you ask with a deep sigh, wrapping your hands and arms around his neck. “I’m good?”

“Perfect,” he smiles, landing a soft and gentle slap on one of your ass cheeks. It isn’t painful, but the sharp feeling it’s enough to have you whimpering against his lips. “You’re perfect”.

You wish to stay forever like this, hugging him tightly with your pussy pressed against his cock. You want to feel his hands all over you, at all times —on your breasts, on your hips and on your ass. But you’re getting desperate.

Jaemin can tell, by the way you move your hips deeper and faster, trying to get more friction and stimulation. He can even feel how wet you are through the fabric of his shorts.

“I want to taste you,” he sighs, pressing a kiss on your chest, then on your neck and one on your lips. “Let me eat your pussy out”.

There’s something enticing about how dirty Jaemin can get with his words. You love how raw they sound, how the more turned on he gets, the more he stops thinking about everything too much.

So you stand up from his lap, and just when you’re about to get in the usual position —lying down with your back against the mattress and your legs spread— Jaemin motions you to get on your knees.

The position is rather new for this specific practice, but you don’t seem to hate it —your knees are pressed against the mattress, your back is arched and your ass is completely exposed for him. The only thing you dislike it’s the fact that you can’t see him or his face, but you completely become mindless once his tongue laps at your slit.

“Fuck,” Jaemin groans. Guttural, even animalistic.

The louder he gets, the more you melt.

He buries his face between your legs, and loses no opportunity to have his hands all over your ass. He often fantasies with you sitting on top of his face, grinding your wet pussy against his lips while you get off with him. Tonight, though, he wants to be fully in control of your pleasure, so he pushes that fantasy aside for a little while.

“Taste so good,” he murmurs, collecting all your wetness with his own tongue and smearing it along your slit. He’s messy with it, and neither of you seem to care. “Your body it’s- just fucking perfect”.

You moan at his words, and arch your back even harder at his ministrations.

“Shit, baby,” you whine, gripping the bed sheets with your hands in an attempt to hold on to something. Normally you’d do so latching your fingers along his long hair, but since the position doesn’t allow you too, the bed sheets will have to do for now.

“You have no idea how much I love it when you call me that,” your boyfriend hisses, offering you yet another soft spank to your ass cheeks. “I swear you have me wrapped around your finger, pretty”.

The more he praises you, the closer you get to your orgasm. Not only that, but his wet tongue feels heavenly in you —he knows your body like the back of his hands, and knows exactly what and where to touch.

“I’m all yours,” he coos, sucking on your throbbing clit and making your body jolt forward. “Are you all mine?”

“Yes!” you gasp without thinking it twice, feeling your orgasm approaching. “I’m all yours, Jae”.

Jaemin smiles against your pussy. He knows you’re close, judged by how you’re curling your toes and your body is becoming stiff. He can faintly taste your orgasm, and he isn’t going to stop until you’re coming all over his face, letting him know how good he is making you feel.

At the same time, he’s desperate to come too. You’re so made for each other, that he could just get off to the taste and sound of you —many times he has reached his orgasm untouched, just by pleasuring you. He fears tonight might be one of those days, but he’s trying hard to control himself.

“You’re about to come,” he tells you. It’s not a question, nor an assumption. Jaemin knows you’re seconds away from your high, he can feel it just as if your bodies are one. “Come for me”.

He has you weak. Everything about him makes you feel weak, and you can’t help yourself but do exactly as he tells you. He holds that much power over your body, and you’ve known it for a while now.

“Baby!” you gasp one more time, burying your head against the mattress while you try your best to remain in your position. The pleasure is too overwhelming to complete such a task, but Jaemin’s tight grip around your thighs and ass makes it easier for you.

“I know,” he murmurs, his silky voice feeling like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the overstimulating sensations. “It feels good, hm?”

You nod frantically, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.

“Come, baby,” Jaemin encourages you, keeping you in place by hooking his arms around you. “Let me taste you”.

The way he grips and massages your ass, paired with the feeling of his lips against your core and the filthy words that are falling carelessly from his mouth, you finally reach your anticipated orgasm.

Your boyfriend tastes every single drop of it, and the lewd noises he makes against your throbbing pussy do nothing but increase your own arousal. You’ve always loved how messy and passionate Jaemin can get, and tonight it’s no exception.

“Shit- baby!” He gives you no time to overcome your orgasm, and continues eating you out until your body becomes limp. You have no strength on your arms or knees whatsoever, but you still manage to stay in place helped by Jaemin's grip on you. The pleasure it’s becoming too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

Not at all.

“That’s it,” Jaemin coos, smiling in victory when he’s done licking you clean.

He can’t spend another minute without being inside of you, and you’re weakly swaying your hips letting you know that you want him just as much as he wants you, so he loses no time before discarding his clothes to the floor.

“Baby,” you murmur, shifting your position on the mattress slightly. However, he’s quick to stop you.

“Wait,” Jaemin holds your hips firmly, making you stay still in the position you’re in —knees and palms against the mattress, on all fours with your back arched and your ass up for him. “Let me fuck you like this,” he tells you, and you can pick up the neediness of his voice. He’s desperate to come too, and he wants to do so with you. “Let me see how you swallow me full”.

You love watching him fuck you, but you can’t refuse —you know how much he loves this position and the best part is that he is very vocal about it. So you do as you’re told, and fix your body on the mattress.

It takes him barely a couple of seconds before you feel his hands guiding your hips all the way to his erected cock, the tip of it rubbing against your slit while coating himself with your wetness. You’re more than ready to take him, and he slides right in so easily that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so- tight, and warm” he hisses as he bottoms out, feeling his pubis hitting against your ass.

“Yeah?” you ask, doing your best to bear the painful stretch. He prepared you well, but the very first seconds are always uncomfortable until your walls get used to his girth.

“And you look- so good from this angle,” Jaemin praises you, and you smile. “God you’re so- I love how your ass looks while you’re taking me in your pussy”.

You sway your hips just a little, and that single motion makes him lose his mind for a while. He loves how good your ass looks, how it feels when he grips it with both his hands. He also loves to fuck you from behind and see how it bounces against his cock.

It’s such a pleasant view.

“Fuck me,” you plea, fucking yourself on his cock just slightly.

Any other day, Jaemin would love for you to take control and fuck yourself on him. But right now, he’s too desperate to feel you.

He places both of his hands on your hips and starts pounding himself inside you. He does so slowly at first, but the needier he got, the faster he starts to fuck you.

“Can you feel me?” Jaemin asks with hitched words, biting his lower lip to prevent being too loud. “Can you feel how hard you fucking make me?”

You cry both at his words and the feeling of his cock ramming inside of you. He’s going so deep, and particularly fast, that it gives you no time to respond.

“I can’t control myself when I’m around you,” he confesses through gritted teeth, leaning down to pepper a couple of kisses on your naked back. “You’re so- hot, can’t keep my hands off of you”.

There’s something enticing about how Jaemin looks at you, about how you always catch him staring at your body at any given situation. You love how he always checks you out, how he sneakily spanks your ass while you pass by him in a public place. You love how much he likes your body, and how good he makes you feel about it.

No one has adored your body as much as he does.

“I’m all yours,” you tell him, feeling the tension starting to unravel in your lower tummy. You guide one of your hands to your throbbing clit and start rubbing it almost at the same pace as his thrusts.

Jaemin can feel how hard you’re clenching around him, how your walls are squeezing him tight, begging for his release. He knows you’re close too, again, by how wet you’re getting.

So why wait? The whole night is ahead of you, and he still has the needed stamina to fuck you in every single position he knows, so he doesn’t want to waste any more time before coming with you.

“I’m close,” he sighs, closing his eyes and kicking his head back. You feel heavenly around you, but he wants to come with you.

At the same time if possible.

“I’m too-” you cry, feeling drool spilling from your mouth and staining the bed sheets.

“Come with me,” his voice and breath are shaky, his thrusts are getting sloppier and the lewd noises coming out of his mouth get louder with each second that passes by. You know he is also close, so you decide to give in.

“Won’t hold it-” you warn him, gripping the bed sheets while you do your best to stay still. “Fuck, baby- I’m-”.

You don’t have to tell him you’re coming because he is feeling it. He can feel your walls spasming, he can see your whole body trembling and he can hear how you chant his name over and over again.

It takes him one last look to your body fucking itself into his cock to come undone, all for you. The sight of your arse pressing against him, and his hand groping the flesh of it it’s what pushes him to the highest point of his arousal.

He loves to touch you and grope you like your body belongs to him, knowing that no one else gets to feel your body like this. He loves how perfect you are, how each part of your body drives him insane.

He loves everything about you, and the adoration he holds for you is equal to the lust and desire he feels towards you.

Jaemin comes inside you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear from behind. He fills your pussy up to the brim, until it is leaking.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he manages to overcome his high. He’s breathing loudly and heavily, his throat feels dry and his head dizzy. Jaemin is still feeling the ravages of his orgasm, from the tip of his toes to his crotch.

It’s an overwhelming feeling he adores, and one he can only achieve when he is with you.

“Thank you,” you finally tell him when he plops down onto the bed. You lay right beside him, not caring that his arousal is leaking out of you. For a reason, it feels too intimate.

“For what?” Jaemin asks with a weak smile, turning to face you.

“For all your words,” you return the smile. “You always make me feel attractive, beautiful”.

Jaemin pulls your body close to him, until your head rests at the top of his naked chest. Then, he places a kiss on top of your forehead.

“You are attractive, and beautiful,” he sighs, hugging you tightly. “Perfect, even”.

Author's note: I hope you enjoy this one! I apologize if I fucked up the grammar or spelling, english is not my first language and I haven't proofread this so I hope it's okay! This is my first drabble/story here, and I'm very happy to share it with you. Please, if you enjoy it, leave a comment or a reblog. It would mean the fucking world to me istg. Love you all!

#nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin smut #na jaemin smut

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stevebabey · 1 year

Text

you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

#EHEHE SORRY I CANT RESIST A LITTLE BIT OF MISCOM ANGST #MORE SWEETNESS COMING THO!!!#on god eddie needs his hickie #and im gonna GIVE HIM ONE #AND SO MUCH LOVE!!!!!!#BEST BOYS NEED TO BE HAPPY IN LOVE!!!!#maybe one more part :)#i had only one more idea for the can i's and i BET u can guess what it might be <3 #and it needs to draw back to touch cos that was the POINT of this fic originally #IM ALL BOUT PARALLELS BABEY #hope u find this delicious #gay ppl in my phone... this for u #can't wait to write the relieved kisses w the 'YOU THOUGHT WHAT???'#they're such goobers <3 #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #can i series #HOW MANY CAN I'S CAN U SPOT THIS TIME !!!#ruby writes steddie #steddie angst #steddie fluff #uhhhh don't flop challenge #or do flop. i can't control the masses #hopefully this hits the brainrot just right

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coupleoffanfics · 3 months

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teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis reader #yandere batfam #God damn you anon #you beautiful bastard #I'll clean this up later when I sleep #x reader #x batsis reader

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crownofgildedlilies · 28 days

Text

oh, don't let your sunshine burn me!

in which: a son of hephaestus discovers a problem he can't solve. mainly, a daughter apollo who doesn't realize just how much her smiles hurt him.

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings: not proof read, slight cursing (otherwise, n/a)

tropes: friends to lovers, fluff, pining

word count: 3k

notes: my inaugural fic post on this blog. how special. plz enjoy. feedback is much appreciated.

Leo Valdez was going to lose his mind.

Or maybe a limb. Maybe that would get your attention. He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't that desperate for you to turn your focus to him.

Stupid Garrett from stupid Ares. Why did he have to go and nearly get his head chopped off by Clarisse while sparring, stealing his thunder?

He should have done more than let his finger slip while hammering away in bunker nine. An exciting injury would have earned the most prized reward of your attention, for sure.

"Are you sure she's too busy?" Leo asked Will for probably four times too many to be considered casual. The blond only rolled his eyes and shoved an icepack into Leo's chest, nearly knocking him back a step, snapping him from his far too obvious admiring of you.

Even from across the infirmary, three hours into your shift, you stole the wind from his lungs. He was convinced you were a favorite of Apollo's, what with the way you glowed and lit up every room you were in.

Which is how he ended up in his current predicament. Absolutely desperate for any hint of your sunshine smile sent in his direction.

"Positive. Now, get out." Will confirmed, checking things off on his clipboard. Leo figured he was probably recording basic information like the patient—himself—had all his limbs, both eyes, ten fingers, and was practically drooling at his half-sister. Leo darted another glance across the room to you, still diligently assessing moronic Garrett from Ares who had been brain dead enough to accept Clarisse's offer of sparring.

Why were you blushing so much?

Something awful and too familiar twisted in his stomach, and all Leo could hear was Piper's voice telling him that he better make his move on you soon, because you were too sweet and too pretty to remain single much longer.

"When's her break again?" Leo asked, ignoring the way Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes, like he was praying for the strength to not hit his patient while under his care.

"And you can't ask her yourself because...?" Will prompted, dragging out the final word and forcing Leo to snap his attention towards the son of Apollo, his jaw practically open in shock.

"Because then she'll know I'm totally into her!" Leo whisper-shouted, waving his hands around as if to emphasize his point.

"You come in here everyday with a new injury asking for her to fix you up." Will pointed out, voice flat. "If she hasn't figured it out yet, I'm not sure she will. You should probably just be direct and ask her out."

Leo narrowed his eyes at Will, but on a rare miracle, he was at a loss for words. Maybe Will had a point. Leo was never exactly good at being subtle about his many, many, crushes, and if you hadn't realized he was hopelessly in love with you yet, then maybe he was safe from feeling the sting of your rejection.

"You're not going to talk to her, are you?" Will sighed, tilting his head slightly as he studied Leo, who, despite having already been given the magic remedy of an ice pack, remained perched on the side of a cot used as a medic's bed.

Leo shook his head side-to-side so quickly Will was a blur of blond hair and orange t-shirt in front of him.

"No can do." Leo said solemnly. "She's miles out of my league. Not even I'm stupid enough to think I have a shot with her."

"Well, at least Garrett isn't as oblivious as you," Will shrugged, shooting Leo a pointed look he didn't understand. The ugly feeling was back in Leo's stomach as he darted his attention towards you and the gods-damned son of Ares.

You were laughing, and Leo wasn't the cause.

Jealousy flared up in him.

You, on the other hand, were completely ignorant to the conversation occurring on the opposite side of the infirmary, far too engrossed in charismatic Garrett from Ares who was retelling the story of how Clarisse had knocked him on his ass and sent him to get bandaged up.

For a child of the war god, he was surprisingly graceful in his defeat.

"Next time, at least bring a shield with you." You smiled at Garrett, checking off the final few items on your clipboard. No major injuries towards his limbs, nor his ten fingers, neither of his eyes had been affected, and he was able to hold a proper conversation with you. "Otherwise I've got nothing else for you. Just an order to take the rest of the day easy."

"I can manage that," Garrett relented, which, for a demigod, was a pretty big ask. Taking it easy was never really an option when one of your parents was a god or goddess. "Hey, any particular reason Valdez is looking at me like he's going to send one of his inventions after me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to act casual as you turned around slightly, finding that Leo had in fact found his way into the infirmary and in fact was staring at Garrett like he might make a good snack for Festus.

You had been starting to worry, thinking that maybe he wasn't going to show up that day.

"Dunno," You shrugged, ducking your face into your clipboard so you didn't have to look at Leo, or Garrett, or Will—who was sending you a look that was both pointed and annoyed at the same time. "But you're set to go."

"Perfect," Garrett jumped off of the examination bed, acting like he hadn't been carried in by two of his half-brothers, a sly grin on his face. "You sure that's not jealousy on Valdez's face?"

"What? Why would Leo be jealous?" You were ashamed to admit you stumbled over your words, your face turning a vibrant shade of red, as you considered the implication of Garrett's words. That Leo might have been into you, enough that just the sight of you talking to Garrett might have been enough to turn his mood sour. "We're just friends."

"Sure," Garrett grinned wickedly, the kind of grin only children of Ares could ever create. The kind that told he totally didn't believe her rushed dismissal of his words. "All I want is an invitation to the wedding. Talk to you later!"

Garrett darted off before you could swat at him with your clipboard, your face flushed with embarrassment. Gods, were you really that obvious in your crush on Leo?

Sure, he came into the infirmary just about every day you were working, with some minor injury or another for you to tend to. And maybe you took a little longer to heal him than you did when Percy or the Stolls came in, were a little sweeter, but were you so transparent that even Garrett from Ares knew what you felt?

"For the love of all the gods and goddesses, would you please just go talk to him?" Will grumbled, borderline exhausted, as he appeared at your side. You jumped, nearly lost in thought, and narrowed your sunshine stare at your half-brother. "He won't leave until he gets the chance to brag to you about his latest made-up injury."

You didn't have to ask who Will was talking about. Leo was still watching you from across the room, rather impatiently. He'd managed to find a few loose bolts and washers and was currently inventing something you couldn't comprehend while he stared very pointedly at the ground by your feet, having averted his stare the moment you darted yours in his direction.

"Shut up," You mumbled to Will, but regardless you dashed off across the room with what felt like permission to engage in your favorite part of the day.

You had received Apollo's gifts of healing, not his poetic words. And every day you cursed that fact, because never could you put into words just how much being around Leo Valdez made you feel centered within yourself. It was like his very personality gave you permission to the version of you that was nearly lost to time and circumstance and the tragedy of being a Greek hero.

"What's the problem today?" You grinned, the smile your half-siblings claimed shined brightest in the camp plastered on your face almost of its own accord as you stood before Leo.

"My hand, Doc." He sighed, playing along and holding up his left hand while the right shoved the ice pack Will had already given him behind his back. You snorted a laugh, and Leo's grin broke out from the solemn facade he had attempted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again if you don't help me."

"Well there's only one solution," You nodded, pretending to read something off of your clipboard—which was still filled out with Garrett's information.

"Anything you recommend is good with me," Leo leaned closer, trying to read over the edge of your clipboard, which you quickly tugged close to your body.

"Right, I've got it." You grinned, dropping your face closer to his, almost like your heart was in control of your body instead of your mind. Leo nodded, and you would have sworn you saw his gaze shoot to your lips for the briefest of seconds. "Amputation. Mr. Valdez, I'm afraid we're going to have to take your hand off."

"But, that's my pretty hand!" Leo protested, playing into your joke quickly. You couldn't even pretend to hide your smile, laughter falling past your lips just as easily as breathing.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do for you." You shook your head, grinning widely at Leo, who was—for a guy with ADHD as severe as him—giving you his full attention. "You're free to go. I'll see you and your pretty hand at the bonfire tonight."

"Glad to hear you agree that my hand is pretty." Leo slid off of the examination bed with a grin that had you flushing and looking over the contents of your clipboard simply for something to do with your eyes. "See you later, Doc."

Waving, you sent Leo off.

Over the course of the following week, Leo had found himself at the infirmary—during your shifts only—six more times.

Three smashed fingers from equipment you knew for a fact he knew how to handle properly. One cut to his arm from a piece of scrap metal. A paper cut.

On Thursday, he came in complaining of a serious burn.

"Doc, you'll never believe it. My whole arm caught on fire."

Will hadn't let him into the infirmary, claiming that Leo needed a better lie than that to come visit, since everyone already knew he was fireproof.

Leo came back fifteen minutes later with a second paper cut. Will took his break an hour early, claiming he needed to for his sanity.

But then you didn't so much as catch a glimpse of Leo for four straight days.

You felt more than a little pathetic, jumping every time the door to the infirmary opened, hoping against hope that it would be the curly haired son of Hephaestus you so adored.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the door opened and you couldn't stop the way your body instinctively twisted around from where you words repacking first aide kits that were left in various locations around camp.

But it wasn't Leo standing at the door, but Piper.

You weren't the closest with her, but you were friendly. So you didn't think she was there for you, at first, until you saw her talking to your half-sister Stella and pointing towards you.

"Hey," Piper's voice had an edge of seriousness to it that snagged your attention, halting your efforts of resupplying. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Okay...?" You trailed off, not sure what she could have needed from you.

"Would you be willing to talk to Leo for me? He's in Bunker Nine, convinced he's going to make some big breakthrough on whatever machine he's currently working on." Piper explained and you nodded slowly, not seeing the problem. From your conversations with Leo, he always seemed to be in the middle of some big breakthrough. "He hadn't come out in four days. It's not healthy."

You frowned, trying to recall the last time you'd seen Leo at any of the meals. And when your mind came up blank, you settled on your answer to Piper's request.

"I'll talk to him."

You had never been to Bunker Nine.

As much as you talked to Leo, pretty much everyday, it was always in yours and shared spaces. The infirmary, mainly, but every once in a while at the dining pavilion or at the camp bonfires.

But you could barely focus on any one thing in the bunker. Half-finished projects littered the space, along with countless tools, scraps, and blueprints tacked haphazardly against walls and bulletin boards.

Since it was nearly dinner, the bunker had cleared out of all but one of its occupants. Perched over a table, working so diligently he didn't hear you approach, was none other than Leo Valdez.

Without thinking of the consequences, you dropped the canvas bag you had brought with you on his worktable, startling him so much he jumped in surprise and nearly sent his latest project clattering to the floor.

"Gods!" He shouted, wide eyed and hand pressed to his chest as if he could physically calm his racing heart. You couldn't help the way you grinned, a little lopsided, wholly endeared by him. "Sorry, were you trying to kill me? Because, if so, mission almost accomplished!"

"Actually, the opposite." With a confidence you didn't really possess, you leaned against the worktable next to him and started pulling tinfoil wrapped sandwiches out of the bag. "Everyone's convinced I'm your appointed caretaker, since you don't seem to do it yourself."

Leo had the good sense to seem chastised by the glare you sent him following your words. It wasn't like he could deny it, anyways. How many times had he ended up on your patient list?

"Did Jason put you up to this?"

"Piper," You confirmed, pushing a wrapped sandwich across the table towards him. Next out of the bag was a metal bowl, the bottom slightly charred and filled with paper scraps and twigs. "Light this for me, will you, please?"

"Well, when you ask so nicely," Leo grinned, a ball of flame forming in his palm and igniting the twigs in the bowl. Without needing to be told, Leo unwrapped his sandwich and ripped off a chunk to throw into the flames.

You copied his actions. And if you made a wordless prayer to Aphrodite to ask for a little assistance, that was no one's business but your own.

"I've..." You hesitated, darting a glance to Leo before focusing on your sandwich, biting down your declaration that you've missed him in the infirmary. He had already started eating, only further proof that he had been skipping meals while holed up in the bunker. "How come you're always getting hurt, Mr. Clumsy? I thought children of Hephaestus are supposed to be good in the forges."

You would have sworn you saw Leo blush, but your attention quickly darted away from him the moment he lifted his eyes to yours.

"You sure you wanna know the truth?" Leo asked his voice a kind of serious that was almost out of character for him. You nodded, slowly, and forced yourself to meet his eye. "I've been getting hurt on purpose."

"Leo Valdez!"

"Wait, let me finish!" Leo held up his hands to defend himself from your words and your glare, the healer in your absolutely hated the fact that Leo would have done anything to intentionally cause himself harm. "I did it because I got an excuse to see you."

"What?" For a child of Apollo, you sure didn't have a way with words. Distantly, you cursed the fact that you were a gifted healer and not a poet, because you knew what Leo's words meant and yet you couldn't get your own to function. "Wait—"

"I know this sounds stupid," Leo dragged a hand through the dark, disheveled curls atop his head. "But Will wouldn't let me in to see you if I wasn't hurt! So I... maybe... lied, a little bit."

You frowned, in thought. Thinking back, you couldn't remember Leo ever actually being hurt beyond the occasional cut or scrap. You'd always been so caught up in him and his visits to notice.

"I swear I'm not weird. I just really like you." Leo winced, no doubt taking your silence in a bad way.

And you weren't one of Apollo's poetically gifted children, so you simply pressed your lips against his and hoped he got the message.

It was a short kiss, a good first kiss, you noted with no small satisfaction. Your lips tingled and your fingertips were buzzing—and Leo looked like he had just won the lottery.

"You're sweet," You smiled, a thousand watt one that maybe Leo adored as much as your half-siblings did, and nudged his sandwich closer to him. "But you're banned from the infirmary unless you're actively dying. And for real!"

Leo paused, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to create a scenario that would get him past the barrier of your totally official and absolutely within rules ban.

"I can make that happen,"

"No, you can't," You tried to shoot him a discouraging look, but your smile was far too wide to deal any real damage. "Or else I'll go to tonight's bonfire with someone else."

"Nope!" He shook his head quickly, hair bouncing with the movement and expression light with an impish grin. "You kissed me, Doc. You're stuck with me, now."

You smiled, silently deciding you wouldn't mind being stuck with him.

"That's what I thought."

Leaning over to press a second kiss to the corner of his lips, you pretended not to notice the sparks dancing in his curls.

#leo valdez #pjo #rays of sun #Leo Valdez fic #Leo Valdez x reader #Leo Valdez fanfiction #pjo x reader

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simpjaes · 4 months

Note

speaking of hoon edging himself for days when you're not available, can you write a quick prompt about how he'd fill up and overflow all your holes when you get back. fuck, he'd be the type to go for ages even after you're all fucked out and overstimulated

reminder that I don't do requests but since you asked for a prompt, i'll write a lil somethin' somethin'.

christmas setting woohoo!

warnings: major edging, a billion orgasms, reader is smaller than him and can be lifted and held up.

wc: 1.4k

Sunghoon, your busy, busy boyfriend. Sunghoon, you're amazingly sweet, loving, and careful boyfriend. Sunghoon, your very, very horny boyfriend.

Honestly, he hates himself every time he does it. Sometimes it's intentional, but this time it wasn't entirely his fault.

It's the first time since you started dating him that you had to go home for a week during the holidays. Which is fine, you've only been dating him since the beginning of the year and it was somewhat expected that you wouldn't be spending christmas with him and him alone. After all, you expected him to go home too.

And he did, which arguably makes his situation worse.

Sunghoon, your needy, pathetic, and annoyed boyfriend.

What's worse is that edging is one thing, but this is just blatant torture. He thought it would be fun to be long-distance for a week. He wanted phone sex, he wanted to see you fuck yourself on camera for him, he wanted you to show him how much you missed him. And that's ultimately where he fucked up.

Because you can barely even respond to his text messages let alone call him for phone sex. Due to sharing a room with your cousin, due to constantly helping your family out with holiday preparations, due to-- doing stuff that doesn't involve helping him out.

You're entirely being distracted from him right now. Family, holiday tradition, and merry joy or whatever.

And you know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that his libido is far too high to have a girlfriend not on him every night. And by every night, it's really every night.

He's supposed to be distracted, though, with being home too and all. But he's entirely tuned into the fact that he's been so fucking hard since the day after you left. It's almost painful now, especially because something inside of him drives him to enjoy this torture. To try and hold off for the day you both eventually land back in the same city, and he can fuck all of this frustration out of himself and into you.

Plus, um, it's kind of hard to jerk off in his family home surrounded by said family. If anything, he should not be as horny as he is. He should be entirely turned off, and entirely tuned in to wrapping gifts and pretending santa is real.

Which, again, isn't working because with each day that passes, all he can think about is you and how you looked the last night you were together, all pretty with your lashes fluttering up at him. Pretty face, pretty mouth, pretty pussy.

Man, he's gonna fucking explode before this week is up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Safe to say, Sunghoon did not explode.

But upon looking at him when he storms into your dorm room? He seems pretty fucking close to it. He looks sleepy, spent, and even exhausted.

You were half ready to offer your bed up for a nice little afternoon nap before he came up to you and immediately had his hand down your loose pajama shorts.

"Hoon?" You ask with a light chuckle.

"You couldn't even call me." He very nearly whined, which is kiiind of new to you.

Then it clicks. Right. Your boyfriend and his libido. His sex drive.

Oh my god, he must have been suffering.

"I'm so hard right now," He chokes out, rubbing himself against your thigh. "I've been so hard all week, babe, please."

And he doesn't really need to ask, but it's kind of cute that he does.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" You ask playfully, feeling his frantic fingers work you up so that you're ready to take whatever nightmare amount of cum he needs to give to you.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" He counters, fingers stopping for a moment before he shifts entirely, pulling his hand out of your pants and immediately shoving you back and against the small dorm kitchen counter.

You chuckle, because of course you do. You'll never get used to being needed or wanted so badly by someone, and it fills you with so much joy that he's really this desperate.

"I should maybe leave more often," You smile at him when he's slipping your pants off of you, hiking one of your legs up and against his waist before fumbling with his own pants. "Never seen you this horny--"

He shuts you up fast, your voice only working him up more and more with your stupid, stupid playful words. You're loving this, you must loooove to see him fucking suffer over you.

And then, the only sound that you can hear is the ringing in your ears as he plunges himself into you. Cock already hard and wet, pulsing with the need to fuck something. You, specifically.

It's like neither of you could speak if you wanted to, with his consistent groans and relieved sighs of feeling your pussy squeeze him like he missed so much.

"Missed you, fuck-" He manages to choke out, already nearing the point of orgasm before it slams into him without warning.

It's the first time he's ever come so fast, barely a full ten strokes into you before it happened, but you love it all the same. It felt somehow better than usual. After all, he could go for an hour or more when his sexual appetite is fed nearly every night by you.

Arguably, he appears to be able to go an hour or more now too, as your face falls into that of shock that his orgasm doesn't render him flaccid or spent.

He paused through his first orgasm, feeling it run through his body in a numbing way, only to immediately fuck up and into you harder once it's subsided. He knows he has more to give, so, so much more. A weeks worth of fucking you will be had now.

And man, you feel every inch of him, deeper and deeper until somehow he feels bigger than usual. Somehow he's splitting you open better than he ever has, and he's filling you up with orgasms that have never once lasted as long as the ones he's shaking through now.

A second orgasm comes in the form of him wrapping your other leg around his waist too, where he's essentially holding you up and against the counter absolutely railing your pussy until his legs nearly buckle.

And well, they do buckle. He's careful though, maintaining his balance before tapping your legs without a word and immediately pushing you to the floor. You stared in awe at how his cock is still working through the two orgasms, despite his brain clearly having gone blank the moment he said he missed you.

There, you give him a third orgasm with your throat. It took a little longer, and it only happened when he let it. Holding your head in place with both hands, fucking his hips into you just to feel your throat constrict and strangle his pathetic and still needy cock. You hear his brain start working again through this, and the only words he can mutter is, "it's like you're doing this on purpose, god, look at how you take it."

You take all of it and you taste all of it, again and again as he stumbled in front of you, angling his hips into your mouth to push it deeper, just to come to the point that you're choking. You wish you could have seen the way he chewed against his bottom lip and threw his head back as it happened.

You're so good to him though, letting him take it out on you like this. So, so good to him.

And it didn't stop. For hours he fucked himself into every part of you that you'd allow, offering you several orgasms in turn from sheer force and need alone. He didn't really even try, because for the first time with you, he was solely desperate to focus on himself. To empty his body of this buildup, and to fill you up with how frustrated he's managed to become.

By the next morning, you weren't the only one rendered unable to walk. His own legs felt weak, his head hurt, his eyes were strained at the morning light. But when he looked at you, smiling as if you really would leave more often just to have him lose his goddamn mind like that again, he immediately scolds.

"Why are you smiling like you're gonna do this shit to me again?"

And you'd just smile wider.

"Because I definitely will."

He rolls his strained eyes at you, thinking hard about the fact that as much as he hates not fucking you, he might kind of love the way you make it up to him.

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #hardthots #anon #ask

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snuggleboots · 5 months

Text

₊˚♡˚₊ The Akatsuki and their jealousy ₊˚♡˚₊

Tags: GN Reader, GN flirt, general jealousy and implied murder shenanigans.

Tobi essentially zeroes in the instant someone else starts laughing a little too hard at your jokes. Uhm, hello? You're funny, but you're not that funny. In fact, he's pretty sure he's the only person that busts a gut laughing when you crack your silly little one-liners or puns. It's cute to him, nobody else has any business making a play by acting all giggly and doe-eyed. He doesn't need to be violent about it - and really, why would he be? Tobi's just as happy to lean in - uncomfortably close - and then loudly declare that they have something stuck in their teeth! And it's super noticeable! So's their breath! It's not rude, he's just being helpful! He can smell their lunch through his mask! And it's rank! How embarrassing! Haha! They really should go brush their teeth, huh! Go away! Far, far, away!

Hidan is, in fact, very liable to wind up jealous over stupid little things that always result in becoming a pain in the ass for you to defuse when he inevitably hops onto his bullshit. You're out trying to enjoy one meal in peace together? That's funny, because the server seemed to put some weird, flirtatious emphasis on hot when they asked how you like your tea, and that's a problem, and that bitch knows it, too. Oh, they wanna know how hot you like it? Alright! There's loads of people on this earth, and they really wanna get stabbed over you? Fuck it! He just sat down, but clearly he's got some shit to do now. Dinner and a show! Why not?! He gets why Kakuzu doesn't tip now, not that he was gonna anyway. Shit service, and thirsty-ass servers. Fucking ridiculous.

Deidara is the first to notice when someone gets too close and cosy with you. Does it bug him immediately? No. His reaction, however, depends entirely on yours. Do you notice that they're smiling with way too much teeth when they playfully punched your arm? No? Alright. He can let that slide. It's when they deliberately divert your attention from him to themselves that he starts getting annoyed. He's not at all above pointing out tacky behaviour, petty king, and even if it embarrasses you a little, it is highly satisfying for him to see the flirt's face drop into something sour or burn up from the embarrassment. It's even better if you snicker along with him.

Kakuzu's only problem with someone chatting your ear off and really gushing over whatever comes out of your mouth is the fact that they're boosting your ego and he has to deal with it later. Not because the offending flirt boosted your ego, he doesn't give a damn about that, but he's now going to hear the same things you just told them about later when he's already just heard it - and he sincerely doesn't care to hear it again. He doesn't want to act interested, and yet he's going to be faced with either being called a dick, or being forced to feign something to avoid bickering about it after the fact. God dammit.

Kisame doesn't mind seeing someone try their damndest to flirt with you. He trusts you, and he's very happy to sit back while you turn them down- or, if he's lucky, watch while the flirt makes an idiot of themselves trying too hard to clue you in and get your attention. It's funny - he's laughing, and he isn't even trying to hide it. If he's in a cheeky mood, he'll even stir the pot, because he has gremlin tendencies and his humour is catered exclusively to himself. Yeah, he'll egg them on in little ways, until they're feeling nice and confident. Then, while he isn't really a PDA kind of guy, he'll drape a brawny arm over your shoulders, plonk a cheek atop your head and drawl something to the effect of, 'You know what? You do look great in that outfit. It'll look better on the floor later. Ready to go?' Kisame likes finding his own fun like this. The flirts always flap their lips like gasping fish when he hits 'em with that bit, and it tickles his brain just right.

Itachi is generally ambivalent. You have attractive qualities, he knows this, and he's well acquainted with the consequence of having said attractive qualities. As long as you're fine with it and nobody's pushing any obvious boundaries, he's fine with it too. Jealousy isn't an issue at all with Itachi. It only becomes one if you end up uncomfortable and the flirt doesn't pick up on that fact. In that case? He's glad to leave with you, if you don't feel like handling it. If you don't want to leave, or leaving isn't an option? Well, he can use his words. Or, if they've ruffled your feathers enough to annoy him, there are many benefits to being a genjutsu master. Oh, noooo, suddenly all eyes are on the flirt and the judgmental looks are intense and highly disarming. Or, uh oh! There's definitely a fire that just broke out, and they're the only one panicking about it! Oh wow, they left in a hurry. What a shame. They must've drank a little too much, or something like that.

Sasori, simply put, could not possibly care less if you paid him. Possibly aggravated by the fact that someone's breathing air in his direction while he's minding his business with you, someone he can actually tolerate. Yeah, he fully expects you to handle that. He's gained a knack for zoning minor annoyances out- until those minor annoyances become general annoyances. It's only when the offending flirt's voice becomes grating - which, really, doesn't take long at all before he bothers intervening if you haven't already shooed them away yourself. If a terse 'shut up' or 'begone' doesn't dissuade the persistent little gnat, he has poison and many fun, discrete vehicles with which to deliver it. It is purely for the sake of peace and quiet. Does he care when they drop like a sack of rocks, seizing and foaming at the mouth? Not particularly. Do as he does, and zone it out. Don't look at it (derogatory), you'll only encourage it to make more of a scene.

#reader insert #akatsuki x reader #naruto x reader #naruto #akatsuki #tobi x reader #hidan x reader #deidara x reader #kakuzu x reader #kisame x reader #itachi x reader #sasori x reader #writing tag #this is just sillyness b/c i saw a funny tiktok and rolled w/ it #:' )#also highly based on my own dumb perceptions of everyone

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mphountitled · 4 months

Note

Req - Something about Shotaro? Oh my god anything, your writing is just so????;!!;?$3

Maybe some smut on the toxic-ish side about how he appeals to be a loving boyfriend to your friends but behind closed doors he’s a lot more intimidating/manipulative, but you’re still just so weak for him (maybe even more so because of it???) and just can’t control yourself around him. Idk, I’m literally clueless but I just know I need that immaculate brain of yours combined with Taro!!!

Much love, and Happy New Year!!!

A/n: I'm not gonna lie... This took a good chunk of my sanity trying to write, I can only hope that you like it. Also happy new yearrr

𝗣𝗶𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁

Osaki Shotaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shotaro is your golden retriever boyfriend... until he isn't

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Best friend!Sohee, Possessiveness, Slight Dark fic, Toxic!Relationship, Manipulation, Smut (+18) Dom!Shotaro, Fingering, Grinding, Choking, Teasing

Your shoulders are as rigid as two metal cinder blocks, keeping your head from rolling off onto the floor. Barbed wires twist with anxiety in the pit of your stomach because you know, despite the sunshine disposition, despite the smile, despite the glassy doe eyes, Shotaro is pissed, and he definitely wants you to know about it.

“I swear on my unborn child,” Sohee, your best friend (your best guy friend) exclaims over a mouthful of ramen, “Yours is the only man I'd ever let cook for me. The rest of the male population can choke.”

While Shotaro basks in Sohee's praises with a modest sunshine smile, you sigh under the pressure of your boyfriend's grip on your thigh as you swiftly say, “You're quite literally a member of said male population-”

Sohee lowers his chopsticks before assuming a vaguely threatening stance with his cheeks round and stuffed. “Begrudgingly,” he says, “Not by choice.” You do not laugh but you try to.

Sohee bounces up and down in his seat, seemingly oblivious to your nervousness and Shotaro's skillfully hidden vexation.

“This is why I needed you two to end up together.” Says Sohee, swinging his head towards you. “My Golden Retriever best friend,” he swings his head towards Shotaro, “And my Golden Retriever coworker-”

“It's getting late, Sohee-” Shotaro's voice is calm and his head is still tilted as he says, “Should I call your uber?” You gulp silently as Shotaro's hand rubs up and down your thigh in a dizzying motion.

“Not very Golden Retriever of you,” Sohee grumbles before slurping down the last of his soup, “But that's okay because you're perfect in everything else-”

“Are you trying to steal my boyfriend, Sohee?” You hope cracking a joke might alleviate some of the one sided tension only you seem to be aware of.

Despite the smile, Shotaro is having a very difficult time remaining patient, especially because he had plans. Before Sohee had hijacked your attention, Shotaro would venture to say that he was actually somewhat happy at the start of the evening… before he found himself sharing your time with your over exuberant best friend.

There was a lively, almost vibrant pep in his step when he got off work, despite the tiredness in his muscles. As Shotaro made his way down the corridor towards your apartment door, his head was bowed with his eyes glued on his phone.

Your whimpers resounded in the clarity of his headphones. He watched you cum around his fingers, absolutely transfixed- so transfixed he almost doesn't recognize movement in his periphery right when he reaches your front door.

Far too swiftly, Shotaro plastered a smile on his face as he paused the video, dropped his phone into his pocket and lowered his headphones before bowing to your elderly next door neighbour.

He muttered a polite “안녕하세요,” in greeting, and the tiny old woman responded just as amicably.

She, as well as every other person in your life is absolutely floored by his politeness.

“What a nice young man,” she said, as she continued her way down the corridor, leaving Shotaro chuckling to himself because the thoughts he was having were certainly kilometres off on what a nice young man should be thinking.

He could not help that he had been thinking about you the whole day. Not even just sexually. (Although he did miss your body terribly. Shotaro was absolutely obsessed with the way it worked: You were always so unmistakably pliant for him. Like clay). Even simply being this close to your space made his heart overblown with satisfaction. Your house had always been somewhat of a safety enclosure for him. His own little piece of peace away from the outside world.

As he inserted the password and turned the knob, Shotaro imagined how you'd be waiting for him after work by the door like you usually did. Swimming in his oversized shirt as you stood with your arms opened wide.

None of those things happened.

Shotaro trudged into your house, sweaty and physically defeated from another day of exerting himself with rigorous routine. The thought of melting into your arms had been the only thing keeping him vaguely upright, when all he wanted to do was collapse on a pile on the floor.

As he proceeded to kick his sneakers off at the door, Shotaro’s brain nearly short circuitrd at the sight of you standing before him… fully dressed.

Not for any reason beside the fact that he had hoped to find you dressed comfortably enough to touch each other while you both cuddled lazily on the couch.

He was not being unreasonable in his expectations.

“Are we supposed to be going somewhere?” Shotaro asked quizzically with his doe eyes widened in cute curiosity. He eyed your halter neck and maxi skirt with much discontent.

“Oh good! You're home! I actually have something to-” Before the words could escape your mouth, he immediately enclosed you in a hug that you drowned in.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured before splaying various sloppy kisses on the side of your face, “Couldn't stop thinking about you the whole day… your face-” A kiss, “Your mouth-” another kiss, “your boobs-”

“Taro, I have to tell you som-”

“God, I hate people!” he exclaimed above you with his arms falling to your hips.

“I shouldn't have to remind you that I count as people.” You jest in vague nervousness.

“When I say I hate people, never ever, do I mean you,” he whispered above you before patting your head down as if you were, less his human girlfriend and more something that went about its life on four legs.

“Do I count as people?”

Your shoulders stiffened and Shotaro's arms grew rigid as his head snapped up to look at your best friend- his co-worker.

Sohee makes his introduction behind you in the same outfit Shotaro saw him in at dance practice and he waved lightly.

Shotaro's shoulders sag infinitesimally but that smile on his face is all too permanent.

Sohee spinned around before mumbling, “Also I'd appreciate it if you two didn't hump each other out in the open for my viewing pleasure.”

Instead of actually feeling compelled to eat you now sit idly at the dinner table, picking and prodding at the ramen Shotaro has prepared for you all.

Your boyfriend's irritation is subtle and you could definitely miss it in the brightness of his overall countenance.

“I mean, it's not that I don't wanna be in a relationship- it's just that, seeing you two has inspired me… I guess you could say?” If it weren't for Shotaro's hand on your thigh you might have actually listened to the countless praises he dotes on Shotaro.

Praises about how good of a man he is. How perfect he is. How absolutely wonderful he must be for being able to put up with you.

All through the dinner, Sohee talks and talks, and you sit with your fingers curled around the end of the table, trying to stop yourself from not reacting to your boyfriend’s minstritations.

It is only when the dinner ends, and Shotaro escorts Sohee to the door, that you finally feel the first real signs of anxiety begin to solidify in your gut.

You're trying your best to load the plates into the dishwasher with a steady hand when you feel a daunting presence behind you. Evading eye contact, you swiftly and succinctly say, “I'm sorry. He had no where else to go-”

“He has a house. Try again.”

You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut at the coldness in his voice.

“He's my best friend, Shotaro,” you say with finality before straightening your spine and turning to face him. You’re both pressed on opposite ends of the kitchen. Both with your arms folded.

“I don't really like your friends.” He says.

“I don't think my friends should be your problem, is what I'm saying.” You clarify. “And anyway, I thought you’d like the fact that Sohee’s my friend.”

Shotaro Scoffs as he says, “I'd like it more if he didn't try to inject himself into our relationship, babe.” Shotaro's voice is incredibly calm, but his words are aimed like an arrow doused in poison, as he closes the distance between you two. Your attention is fixed on him as he lifts his hand to trace small lines on your exposed collar, and you nearly fight the urge to make your eyes flutter shut.

“Not to sound like a tired fucking cliche but, I'm just thinking about what's best for you-” That snaps you out of it.

“What's best for me or what's best for you?!" You exclaim before slapping his hand away.

If only you knew how badly that particular passive-aggressive action affected him. Shotaro crowds you against the counter as he pushes his front up against yours until he's quite literally peering down at you. You refuse to crane your neck back and look up at him.

He was being ridiculous.

“I'm not choosing between you or my friends, Taro-”

“You're so pretty, you know that?” His completey-out-of-left-field comment, especially layered with that sweet-as-honey voice of his, shoots straight to your core, and you grab the counter behind you for support. “And smart too,” he says, before trailing his hand down your arm, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Shotaro’s touch is not only sensual, but its molten fucking lava and it nearly has you melting into a puddle on the floor.

“So I trust you to make your own decisions.” He says, nodding with cute finality before lifting your face up by your chin.

“Taro…” Your heart resorts to frenzy, and your head flies backward when Shotaro drifts his fingers past the seams of your maxi skirt. His are fingers- quite literally making their descent down your underwear while you remain too dumb to do anything but say: “I-I knew Sohee before I knew you.”

He only pushes up against you further, letting his hand grip the side of your neck. “You really think now is a good time to throw that in my face?” He asked with a tilt of his head and his hand now sliding over your cunt.

“You're not wet,” he whispers, “Why aren't you wet?” Before you're ever able able to answer, Shotaro drops to his knees before picking up the ends of your billowing skirt and disappearing underneath the fabric. A torrid gasp escapes your throat when his warm breath skates over your cunt and you're once again throwing your head back in absolute ecstasy.

He pokes his head up from underneath your skirt, cute smile on display while his fingers massage your aching clit. “You're always so wet for me, baby," he says with a childish frown, "What's the matter, huh?” He tilts his head again. “Is it your friend?”

He asks casually, as if his middle finger was not easing its way past your entrance … as if he his fingers were not already drenched in your arousal in less than a minute. “Fuck, Shotaro-”

“Is it because of him?” He continues to ask, now fully moving his fingers in and out of yoy while he remained on his knees- gaze never once wavering. “I'm sorry, bunny,” He says with faux concern, “I didn't know Sohee meant so much to you!”

“F-Fuck Taro-”

At the sound of his name, Shotaro's other hand grips your thigh, only opening your legs wider to split you all the way open against his fingers rough minstriations. He alternates between his middle and index. Sometimes splitting you open with both, until you were thoroughly bucking forward, to the pace that he had set and you were chasing your own orgasm furiously.

“You look like you're gonna cum for me, baby!” He exclaims with big bright eyes and a wide open smile. Equal parts adorable and completely fucking manic.

“Ask me to cum,” he whispers, still looking up at you like you were the best toy he could've ever hope to get. “I control your body. I control every part of you.” He says, “So ask me-”

“Please, Taro!- P-Please can I come?” Your hands have long ago found purchase in his blonde locks and you squeeze your eyes shut, bucking into him at a frenzied pace.

“Look at how pretty you are when you're following orders!” He exclaims as if you truly were a child. “So pretty,” he’s absolutely mesmerising, “My pretty girl gets to cum all over my fingers-”

You've already jumped off the cliff, letting your hips stutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Shotaro's eyes appear almost pained by the sight in front of him. How easily you break for him. Whenever he wanted. You truly were in control of his entire being.

“G-God-” Your failed attempt at talking brings a wave of warmth over Shotaro's countenance, and he finds himself pleasantly satisfied once again. He lifts himself up to his full height.

“what a gorgeous girl,” he whispers before pushing his forehead against yours, “My gorgeous girl,” he murmurs before sliding his fingers - the fingers that were once inside you- past your trembling lips.

#riize #riize fanfic #riize x reader #shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #osaki shotaro #osaki shotaro x reader #osaki shotaro smut #riize smut #riize headcanon #lee sohee x reader #sohee x reader

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ghouljams · 7 months

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Medievall au Konig…

King of a neighboring kingdom, who is declaring war. The king and queen, parents of Ghost’s princess, offer her hand in marriage as a peace offering. inviting him over to shortly court/get to know the princess, but falls in love with her lady in waiting? (or any type of servant/help type worker)

God this is dangerously close to my cursed king König from my novel and I am for REAL holding myself back here. This isn't going to be König's new medieval au, but I wanna see Ghost sweat and I love causing the princess pain. So I’m using my cursed König here, because I love him, and also because he’s just a little fucked up, and also also because he is just... incapable of loving the princess lmao

You hate this.

Your maids have spent all day preparing you to meet a man that could become your husband. A king. You pout as they scrub you with perfumed soaps, rubbing scented oils into your skin and hair until every nook and crevice if you is soft and sweet. It's truly the most extensive bath you've ever had, and all you can think of is how badly you don't want it to end. The same with your makeup and your hair, all the primping and poking takes far longer than you would've liked, and yet far shorter than you need. It's miserable, and your maids are too chatty, too excited. They don't leave you alone long enough to cry.

Your parents, well your mother, have planned a rather elaborate dinner to introduce you and the neighboring King. You desperately want to kick and scream, throw things and make a mess until someone takes notice of your misery and puts a stop to it. Your maids tighten the strings of your dress, fix your necklace until it sits just right on your chest, spritz you with perfume, and tip your tiara until it catches the light with the sparkle of tears in your eyes.

"You look beautiful m'lady," your lady in waiting smiles, squeezing your shoulders tight in an approximation of a hug. It's not a comfort. You feel like a horse being trussed up for the market. You say nothing, you think she gets the idea. She's always been a good friend to you. "Maybe he'll be terribly rude and ugly, and the King will kick him out before the meal is over," she suggests.

"One can only hope," you mumble.

Ghost isn’t waiting for you outside your quarters door. Your eyes dart around the hallway, past the knight that offers you an introduction. He should be here, why isn’t he here? He wouldn’t leave you if something important didn’t come up, something must have happened. You turn to your maid, confusion stealing away your anxiety for the moment.

“Where’s Ghost?” You ask her. You hardly have a spare moment to feel sorry you’ve ignored this poor knight who you’re sure is his stand-in.

“Orders of the King,” The knight tells you, “I’ll be your guard from now on.”

Your heart falls. They’re really serious about this. You wonder if your mother put up a fight, if she was the one to suggest it. It feels like a betrayal of the highest order to look at this knight and tell him.

“I’ll be in your care.”

When all you want to do is throw a royal fit and tell him to get Ghost or get out. You suppose you could. You could go back into your room and send word you won’t be attending anything. Be a true royal brat. You shudder to think what would become of you if you did. Without Ghost to protect you, there’s no telling how quickly you’d be dragged from your quarters. Placed in front of your royal guest kicking and screaming, what a first impression that would be.

It feels like a funeral procession walking down the hall towards the formal dining room. Your feet hardly want to carry you, but you can’t run with an unfamiliar knight at your heel. For all you know he’d chase you down under your parents orders. That was the one thing you never had to worry about with Ghost, perhaps you took it for granted how loyal he was to you and only you.

You stop in front of the heavy wood doors. You don’t even get a moment to collect yourself, barely get a squeeze of your hand from your lady-in-waiting before the guards on either side open them. Immediately your worry over Ghost is replaced by anxiety for yourself.

The doors open, the guests at the table stand, and you look up, up, up, at the man you assume is your neighbor King. The height of him, the sheer mass of musculature and masculinity frighten you. You thought Ghost was tall, does this fucker come from a land of giants? The King tips his head to you, and you dip into a low curtsy. As well trained as ever.

"König," your father smiles, a ringing rising in your ears as König stares you down, "this is our daughter, Princess-" You wish you could say he at least seems interested in you. He doesn't. His eyes look bored at best and disdainful at worst. You wish you could say more but the lower half of his face is masked. You'd wonder what that was about, if you weren't so terrified that this man was going to take you away, he doesn't even seem to want you.

The man, König, has an air of violence to him, madness almost. An air you find infecting your mind even as you walk to your seat. The proximity to him doesn’t help the feeling that if any man would be the hand in your death it would be him. You can hardly imagine what a marriage to him would entail. How cruel could he be, when you couldn’t even sense a spark of warmth from him.

You knight pulls a chair out for you, and you sit, moving on pure instinct. König's eyes slide off of you to touch your maid as she leans to speak to you. You barely hear her over the ringing in your ears, your breath coming short as you stare at your place setting. Did you leave your heart in your room? It feels like you must have, you hardly think it's beating.

You feel like every muscle in your body is pulled taught, tightening to keep your skeleton from shaking. You can’t think against the rising wave of dread that settles over your mind. Your vision is so fuzzy, and the crown on your head is impossibly heavy. The weight of awful responsibility. An animal raised for slaughter, that’s all you are, all you’ll ever amount to. Another bargaining chip in your parent’s pocket to be thrown on the table in front of any unwed king they find important enough.

This is worse than an interview with a nobel. There’s no need for a formal meeting between you and a king. If he likes the look of you he can take you. There’s nothing more that needs to happen to make you his. A wedding is a formality. You’re sure that giant of a man has never heard ‘no’ in his life, and even if he had you’re sure that no didn’t last long. Where is your gentle knight? Why do you have to be doomed to a nightmare when so many other girls get to be loved?

Someone touches you. No one is supposed to touch you. You jerk away, the world snapping back into focus with a rush of sound and color. You maid crouches next to you, your hand between hers, concern clear in the furrow of her brow. You look around the table, the startled expression of your parents, König's wide eyes. Your lady in waiting swipes her handkerchief over your wet cheeks silently. Are you crying?

"I'm sorry," you smile at the other people seated at the table, "I'm just- just so excited at the prospect of marriage I suppose." Your lady- your friend fixes König with a sour expression, still dabbing at your makeup. You glance at your mother to try and pick up the conversation, maybe salvage this torture. She isn’t looking at you, her eyes set on König. Her expression is placating, her smile as warm as a crocodile’s. Political, just like you are supposed to be.

The air in this room is stifling. Your parents love you, but they care about you only as far as you’re useful to them. Despite your mother’s previous words, a king is too good a deal to pass up. Just like a princess throwing a tantrum in the middle of the night is too disgraceful to mention in the morning.

“She’s not usually like this,” your mother tells König, her voice sweet, “she must be nervous in the face of a man so…” König raises a brow, despite the full plate of food in front of him, he has yet to remove his mask, “handsome.”

You shove off your maid’s fussing, your skin crawling to be touched by anyone. You’re going to be sick. You hardly mutter an ‘excuse me’ before you’re running from the room.

#cod x reader #x reader #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig #knight!ghost #medieval au #even tho he isn't in this lol #it is Ghost's story #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #könig mw2 #konig cod

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a-sour-nectarine · 2 years

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People fear the day the Red Hood loses control. The day he doesn't stop himself from pulling the trigger, the day he no longer differentiates the sinners from the damned.

People fear the day Red Robin loses control. He doesn't have the same moral code as the rest of the Bats, he isn't above lying and stealing and forcing like they are. People fear the day that goes too far, the day he crosses the invisible line he's drawn.

People fear the day Robin loses control. The day he sends his katana through someone's neck, the day he doesn't listen when Batman tells him to stop.

What people don't understand is that there is nothing to fear from them. They never have to worry about the day that Red Hood snaps, because it will not come. He is too short of a stick to break more than twice, after all. They don't have to worry about Red Robin, he isn't toeing that line they think he's drawn. He's well within his own boundaries, even if they are different than Batman's. He's seen too many futures where he crept too close to the edge and fell to the bottom to risk it. People don't have to fear the day Robin's blade cuts too deep, it won't. Robin is a child who is learning the value of life, he will not treat it with such disdain again.

No, people fear the wrong Bats.

Because Nightwing is the one they should be wary of. Nightwing, with his bright smiles that hide so much anger and hurt, and his jokes that conceal hatred and despair. Nightwing, with his fatal grace and his soft sharpness. Nightwing is the one whose breaking point people should fear. Because he is constantly balancing on a knife's edge, cheerful demeanor and charming banter just barely containing the most dangerous person in the room. The pressure on his shoulders is seconds from breaking the facade in half, exposing something you don't want to meet. If Nightwing loses control, you won't know it until it's too late and you're gasping for breath, wondering how everything went so wrong.

Because that disarming smile is the breastplate in the armor of his morals, and if anything gets past that armor.... Gods help us all.

#ollie yells into the void #dc #nightwing #dick grayson #red hood #jason todd #red robin #tim drake #robin #damian wayne #batman #talkin' shop

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wannaeatramyeon · 6 months

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Jake Kim x Reader: Minseon

G/N. Soft as always for Jakey.

"You're so handsome," you sigh, half appreciative and half deeply envious.

The light isn't even hitting him in a particular way. Neither is he dressed up, just hanging about the apartment in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

But. This man. Jake goddamn Kim.

You know the feeling you get when you see an adorable animal and want to aggressively pet them and smush them? That's how you feel about Jake sometimes. A lot of the time.

You would hate him if he wasn't so charismatic and genuinely nice.

"Thanks," he says, accepting the compliment graciously, giving you a small smile before resuming scrolling on his phone.

It means the most coming from you, but you're not the first person to call him handsome, and no doubt you won't be the last.

Don't get him wrong, Jake doesn't think this due to arrogance but if you've heard this most of your life then it's something you just come to accept. Not that he cares too much, looks will eventually fade.

Besides, he knows you will still love him once the wrinkles line his face, the grey peppers his hair and he no longer has the body of a man training everyday for survival.

You peer closely at him, obscuring his line of vision. "You have your mother's eyes, you know."

That stops him in his tracks. He arches a brow at your statement. "That's not what most people say."

"I know, I know," you wave your hand dismissively, "Your eyes are shaped like your dad's but they're the same shade as your mother's," then voice turning bashful, "They have the same warmth as hers."

It's cheesy but true. God bless Gapyrong's strong genes and good looks, because Jake is almost a spitting image of his father, though you haven't had the opportunity to meet the late Gapryong in person. Nevertheless, you see a lot of Minseon in Jake.

Jake finds his father when he looks in the mirror. The angle of his eyes, height of his cheekbones, slope of his nose. Most days it’s all he sees.

You find his mother in the shade of his eyes, the arch of his eyebrows, the dip of his cupid's bow.

You recognise Minseon's gentle touch in the way Jake takes care of you. In him, the strength of her character alongside Gapryong's morals.

How Jake cooks, taking a dash of salt, angling his wrist and sprinkling it in the exact same way as her after years of watching her cooking for the family.

Prefers the quiet calm of the morning, just like his mom before the buzz of the day claims her.

You tell Jake all of this. His eyes widening in pleasant surprise, face softening with adoration, the more you talk.

You think about Minseon pottering in the big house on her own and feel a pang of sadness. "We should visit your mom soon, it's been a while."

Jake hums his agreement. You're far too good to him and he doesn't know what to do with it.

He reaches out, takes your hand between his with a tender smile on his lips. You see the same crinkle of Minseon's eyes reflected at you too.

#i just...#everyone knows jakey looks like his dad but what if you can see all his mother's traits?#you know him that well. youre that ingrained into his family.#and he's grateful cos he doesn't wanna live in his dad's shadow #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #jake kim x reader #jake kim #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #wannaeatramyeon

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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i dont know if you take smut requests for the celebration but if you do, can i request one with joel with a heavy breeding kink and dumbification? tysm!

i... chose the proper time to write this. it's a goodnight and i hope you like it from me. xoxo — main masterlist | fireplace celebration | 🏷️: established relationship, explicit depictions of sex, minors DNI, possessive!Joel, breeding kink, dumbification, overstimulation, soft & rough sex, creampie. once again... filth? [WC: 1.2k]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ˗ˏˋ꒰ start carvin', darlin'꒱

When it started, it was far from this... filthy thing. It was sweet, and gentler, and calmer.

It began with soft gestures and caresses, but it slowly evolved into more, and to be frank, sometimes it still is what it was. Joel never quite changed with you as much as evolved. He opened up, showed you different depths of him, and made you realize that carving up something real was still possible, but it took effort.

At first, it's beautiful enough to resemble something heavenly.

Ethereal.

Then, you spread your desire on the table like a feast, and Joel changes how much he puts out—Joel started lying down all the cards, all the ways in which he could pull you apart before he put you back together.

It should make you feel ashamed, but it only made you smile.

Joel was so good, and so fucking earnest in his desires. It made you drunk to be looked by him, and it made you high how much he liked this. As much as you.

When he first started, Joel was nothing but a gentleman. He opened you up with his tongue first, always. Then, he gave you his fingers, one by one, until you were a squirming mess. He always took his time. Always whispered and chuckled—dirty, condescending.

It was hotter than you'd like to admit.

Then, Joel started seeing how unabashed you were getting.

His words started to follow the motion.

"Look at you, darlin'. I mean it—look in the mirror. Look at fuckin' good you look right now takin' my fingers. God... what a fuckin' sight. This is what you like, isn't it? Hearin' how much you get me hard and desperate for ya? How much I dream about spending hours inside of ya? Just feeling you hot and tight around me—you're so fuckin' tight, darlin'. Jesus, look at it. That's it. Scream my name all you want. You like when I talk to ya. Get so stupid every time."

He was right about that.

It was just too much. Never fucking enough.

You wanted Joel as much as he wanted you, you like dto believe. Sometimes, you wondered—it felt too big for something this huge to exist inside the same room as you, but then, you caught him looking at you before you looked at him, and it caught up to you. How much he stared, too.

How much he liked to be close.

It did you in, the way Joel enjoyed your proximity.

He explained why he felt so comfortable with you, once. It’d been snowing outside, and you only remembered that because you were lost in how a few snowflakes were falling right on his face as he spoke. They mingled with the foxy shiny bits in his hair and beard, and you were no longer cold. You had his jacket, his body heat pressed next to yours, his voice rich and grounding in your ear.

That’s what got you that wrecked.

He was in this for more than just a release, and even if now sometimes it could be about that, it was more often for that not to be the case.

Joel liked his hands on you. He was vocal about it. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re not gonna finish this,” you heard plenty of times.

It took you very little time before you were opening up to him unashamed. Not too long before you were actively pulling you towards the room, or hooking a finger through the hoops of his pants. Joel laughed as he let himself be taken, sometimes even going as far as pretending to protest.

“I’m startin’ to think you like interruptin’ me when I’m workin’ and that’s all.”

“No. I just like seeing that concentrated look on your face.”

“Yeah? Is it familiar to you?”

“How did you know?! That’s exactly it. That—this little pinch here in your brows.”

“You just like playin’ with danger, don’t you. C’mere.”

He knew you did. He just never knew how much you’d been craving and waiting for this, too, and when you started to ask for more, to give yourself more, Joel took it all, sometimes wide eyed, sometimes whimpering just like you.

For him, his darker side came out when you lost the ability for coherent sentence. When words left your mouth, that’s when Joel started to smile. To laugh. To talk at you — something he made sure to ask beforehand, with his cheeks on fire and he southern accent making everything stupidly sexy for some goddamn reason — but talk down.

It felt liberating, to be at his mercy like that.

He cooed at your inability to speak, and spun you around like a doll at his mercy. Melted at the will of his hands and arms. “Turn around for me. Just like that—m’pretty lil’ fuck doll. You’re doing—so good. So damn good. Fuck… those lil’ whines means—feels good for you, too? Can’t even answer—me. Fuck.”

Whenever those memories crept upon you, a shiver ran from the base of your neck all the way down your spine.

Everytime he glued his front to your back and got himself positioned just right, you liked to pull Joel to lay almost all the way on top of you. His weight, his thickness inside you—sometimes utters of lost words came out of you, prayers of his name, incomplete pleas for more, or drowned on, delirious mumbles of how thick he was. Deep. S’thick. Like that. Please. Joel. Joel. So good.

Joel liked taking his time on you, and seeing how long he could drag out his own release.

He was a sadist, a masochist, and, in return, he made you suffer the consequences of being dragged to the edge, only to be pulled back once, twice, three times.

Joel shushed you, kissing all over your face when your frustrated cries ended up with you scratching along his back.

“‘s okay, darlin’. I’ll give it to you. Give it—a sec. Like this… open up for me. That’s it.” Joel liked kissing you when he was buried all the way in, kissing with his tongue and teeth nipping at your sensitive lips. He kissed until you were feeling dizzy and full. “Takin’ me all the way. Are you gonna let me… fill you up?”

“Joel.”

“Joel, Joel. Fuckin’ — love my name. On your mouth. Say it again.”

It was in more than just your mouth. You cried it for him. “Joel.”

“Hold onto me.” Joel hooked his arms underneath your knees and pulled your legs higher up around his middle, starting to slow down his pace. To slam harder into you. Not brutal—with the right hips. The right drag. You were crying with overstimulation, but he stills drags one of his hands between your bodies and presses the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit, making you scream. “Yeah. Gonna feel me twitchin’ inside of you. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you? Dumb lil’ doll always — cums. When I fuck you like this. Right? Cum for me, darlin’.”

He made you see white, a tunneled and sharp vision, and you did feel twitching inside of you. The warmth of him not only around, but in you.

“‘m not done with you.”

Joel, your mind whispered. He chuckled in your neck, as if he somehow heard it.

🏷 @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeiaaa — @levylovegood — @simply-sams-things — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 — @averysblog — @pedrostories — @fleursirvart — @sirtommyholland — @capbrie — @hawsx3 — @superflymaterial — @ashleyforeverareject — @girlofchaos — @queerponcho — @am-3-thyst — @nyotamalfoy — @my-tearsricochet — @ponyboys-sunsets — @peqchsoup

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ* . join my Fireplace celebration. * | send me mail 💌

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