#I CARE HIM!!! I THINK ABOUT HIM SO OFTEN!!!
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can we possibly get the one where Gideon doesn’t like bombshell reader and poor Spencer is watching like☹️
Spencer feels a little like a child of divorce. Like, he absolutely is a child of divorce, but he didn’t think he’d feel this way at work. Lately, all Hotch and Gideon do is argue.
It’s especially odd in that Hotch doesn’t usually go against Gideon’s judgement, even when he doesn’t agree, but you seem to be something Hotch is willing to fight for, and Spencer has no idea why.
“We don’t need her,” Gideon says. Spencer knows it isn’t Gideon being cruel, just stern. “We have a fine team without her.”
“But with her, we’re better. And we have an opening. I know you like Greenaway for it, and I do too–”
“Everyone likes Greenaway for the position, she’s more palatable than L/N, and she works harder.”
Spencer tries not to whip his face back and forth like he’s following a ping pong ball, but it’s hard to keep up. He has no idea what his mentor’s talking about in all honesty, you’d seemed more than palatable when you met him last week. You were nice. And barely anybody is nice to Spencer.
You sounded like you actually wanted to hear him talk, something Gideon has often been alone in. And palatable is a subjective word.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Hotch says, knowing he’s losing.
“We’re not gonna rush into picking someone,” Gideon says, less stern, more neutral.
“No. I have invited her to the Georgia consultation this afternoon.”
Gideon sighs through his nose. The afternoon rolls around quickly. Spencer doesn’t want to think about it but he’s excited to see you, and he feels conflicted in that; Gideon is the first person in a long time who actually seems to care about him, so Spencer is guilty of always aiming to please, but he can’t understand why Gideon dislikes you so much. Am I being easily led? he wonders.
He’ll admit to finding you attractive. In his head, that is. You’d spoken so particularly, you’d looked stunning, and you didn’t make a fuss when he wouldn’t shake your hand. You called him beautiful.
It’s the nicest, kindest attention he’s had since he started. Morgan calls him pretty boy. Spencer knows it’s not the same thing.
They gather in the conference room, Morgan, Hotch, Gideon and Spencer, just a few minutes before 2PM. A minute later, you’re knocking on the door.
“Hello…” You smile when you realise they’re here. “Am I late?”
“No, L/N. Come and take a seat,” Hotch says.
There’s a plastering of documents on the table and an empty seat by both Morgan and Spencer. You choose the one beside Spencer despite a stack of manilla folders, tucking your chair in neatly. “Oh, the grizzly stuff. This will upset my feminine energy.”
Morgan laughs. Gideon glares at the table.
Spencer likes it when you’re around. One more person and suddenly the consultation is a conversation and not a debate. You can keep up with everyone. You laugh at Spencer occasionally and he doesn’t know why, but he can tell it isn’t cruel laughter; he’s had a long time to work out the difference.
Gideon excuses himself for a coffee half an hour in.
Hotch immediately leans across the table. “I’m trying to help you,” he says.
You grimace. “What am I doing wrong now?”
“The laughing.”
“You laugh.”
“I know.” Hotch smiles at you. “You’re getting good at this, you have good insight on the dark triad. You read the book I sent?”
“How’s Haley?” you ask.
He shakes his head, but his smile stays. “Don’t joke about that.”
You’re not flirting. Or, Spencer doesn’t think so. It’s more likely you’re joking as Hotch says, everything about your body language pointing to amicable friendliness besides your flirting tones. “I read the book,” you say. Your gaze turns to Spencer. “Bet you’ve read it too, huh? Morgan said you’ve read every book ever written.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Spencer says.
“But close?” you ask. “I’d love some recommendations. You know. For profiling.”
“Don’t let her fool you, Reid, she’s well read,” Morgan says.
“Wait, Gideon doesn’t like you because you laugh?” Spencer asks.
It’s a socially inept thing to say, he realises after. You lean back in your chair all sweet and soft with your legs crossed, your dark stockings thin at the knees. He’s so, so worried you’re going to be offended and that’s exactly what he needs, a possible friend isolated again by his inability to read the room, but you don’t chew him out. You nudge his leg gently with the toe of your heel.
“Now who said he doesn’t like me, handsome?” you ask teasingly.
Spencer regrets the heat that floods his face and neck.
“It’s complicated,” you add, your smile more than friendly, Spencer can’t work it out. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn him around eventually. It’s one of my many talents.”
Oh, he thinks. That’s what it is. Spencer’s finally in on the joke.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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I’ve only done some light reading on Selina, but even so, details on her past seem few and far between. Maybe there’s a reason, maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough, whatever. Someone can enlighten me in the comments. What I do know, however, is that she’s eluded to have experienced some form of abuse as a child. Now, this research came on the heels of brushing up on the rest of Batman’s rogues’ gallery and I gotta say, abuse as a backstory comes up a lot. And I’m just sitting here, like, “There are so many unique people in this world with unique traumas and hurts that this feels almost cookie cutter.” Am I wrong? I just wanna be more specific and explore problems more intimately. So… Selina Kyle. What to write for her backstory? I thought a lot about who she is as a character present day—her playful aloofness, her decision to become a cat burglar, breaking rules as if they don’t exist, always on the run, never settling down with anyone long term, stealing nice things for herself—it led me to this backstory: When Selina was a child, she was horribly neglected. Her father was almost never around and her mother was depressed, anxious, under the influence of alcohol quite often, and wished she never had a daughter. Selina found that it was always easier to live as though she were invisible. If she never got caught making a mess or being noisy or causing problems, her mother would never get mad at her, or even a acknowledge her, and neither would her father if he ever showed his face. She never received birthday gifts—or if she did, they were pitiful—and all of her attempts of reaching out via gifts to her mother and father were rejected. She was never loved and grew to believe that the only way she would ever feel cared for is if she just took care of herself and only herself. She was good at being invisible, and so she became good at stealing. She treated herself to nice things whenever she felt like it, and she rarely ever got caught. She never made close friends. She never really fell in love. She built up walls so high that no one could ever break them down… until she met Bruce. Suddenly, here was a guy who could consistently catch her red-handed. Who told her she needed to stop robbing people. Who believed she could be better. Who saw her. And even though she kept double-crossing him, escaping his grasp, and escaping justice, she found that it was a little bit harder to return to crime every time. She had always found him attractive… but the longer they chased each other around Gotham, and the longer he showed that he wasn’t going to ignore her or give up on her, the more that attraction turned into a deep feeling that Selina had never felt before. True love. She was scared of it. She didn’t know what to do with it. It was completely the opposite of everything she had ever known, and she secretly didn’t think she deserved it. After all, she was a criminal. She was a “bad guy.” Someone who stole from others for pleasure and profit. And yet Bruce believed she was a good person deep down. He believed she had the capacity for change. And in time, he would find himself falling in love with her too. By the end of their story, naturally, those walls had come crumbling down and they had each learned how to love again, something they both thought would never happen to them. 💜
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Husband Nanami
Warnings: Dosmectic fluff, smut, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex.
Tagging: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork
Dividers by myself.
Please like, reblog and comment!! Thanks 🥰
Husband Nanami takes such good care of you, a house, money and all the security you could ever need.
Husband Nanami who loves spoiling you with gifts, often hiding them in different parts of the house, for you to discover as you clean, finding that one diamond necklace.
Husband Nanami works such long hours, surrounded by female colleagues who all want a piece of him, hoping to steal him away, I mean who wouldn’t with such a beefcake like him, and such a serious hard worker too.
Husband Nanami who is clueless about his attractiveness and brushes off their advances so casually, not thinking of it, only trying to get the job done as quickly as possible in hopes of getting home to you.
Husband Nanami who misses you and finds himself thinking about you at work, about that new lingerie set he had hidden underneath the bed, how’d you react when you saw it, how’d you look so good wearing it.
Husband Nanami who couldn’t help himself and jerks himself off in the men’s bathroom, pulling up pictures of you the night prior, on your knees with his cock in your mouth.
Husband Nanami who immediately rushes home after finishing work, in desperate need to see you, his loving wife.
Husband Nanami whom you greeted at the door, smiling from ear to ear, gently pressing a kiss on his lips before asking if he wants dinner or a bath first?
Husband Nanami who drops his bag on the floor and tells you screw that, cause he wants you first.
Husband Nanami who takes you there and then by the front door, thrilled to finally be able to have you after wanting you for so long, bouncing you up and down on his cock.
Husband Nanami who finishes quick cause damn it he was so pent up, who was slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t get you to your orgasm but you smiled graciously telling him not to worry about it.
Husband Nanami who you tell to go take a shower first while you set the table for dinner.
Husband Nanami who after a nice hot shower, comes back to the kitchen table to find a nicely set dinner table and you at the other end of the table, stark naked.
“What’s this about?” He would asked.
“Eat up big boy, cause you got a long night ahead of you.”
“I gotta wake up early.”
“I don’t care.”
And he finds it hot that you don’t care.
Oh yes Husband Nanami takes such good care of you! 💕
©2024 Aikatoru writes, I do not give permission to plagiarize, repost or translate any of my content.
#aika writes 🤍#aikatoru blog#nanami kento x you#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#nanami x reader#kento smut#kento x y/n#kento x you#kento x reader#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu Kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami
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Reflections
Azriel x Fem! Reader
Request: hello, i’ve been thinking about slight angst to fluffy filth with azriel x reader, i have this idea where reader gets az off in front of a mirror while he says nice things about himself, bc we all know his self esteem is abominable. [...]
Summary: You notice Azriel isn't feeling well and want to show him just how much he is loved.
Word Count: 6.1K
Warnings: Smut, 18! +, Fluffy smut, Soft Azriel, gentle sex, mirror sex.
A/N: This is soooo cute!! I really wanted to make this fluffy. Azriel deserves so much love and I loved writing this. Also, a friend of mine gave me a really mean idea for a very angsty second part, but that would be utter heartbreak omg...
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Azriel moved through the day with a heavier shadow than usual, both literally and figuratively. His usual quiet demeanor had deepened into something more somber, his brooding silence punctuated only by the soft whispers of his shadows that clung close, mirroring his mood. It was one of those days when the weight of his duties hung heavily upon him, laden with guilt, self-doubt, and a gnawing anxiety that he might never truly be enough. His own insecurities clawed at him relentlessly, questioning his worth even as he worked tirelessly behind the scenes, unseen and often unappreciated.
You observed him with a careful eye, noting the subtle shift in his energy, the slight hesitation in his movements. Throughout the centuries of your friendship, which had seen countless shared secrets and moments of vulnerability, you had learned to read him like one of the many books lining the shelves of his dimly-lit office. You both danced around each other in a delicate ballet of unspoken words and intermittent closeness, occasionally succumbing to the gravitational pull of mutual desire that neither of you dared to fully acknowledge or define.
Recently, something had shifted. The air between you was charged, heavy with the things left unsaid, the feelings unexplored. Despite the deep bond you shared, Azriel had begun to pull away, cloaking himself in solitude and silence. His avoidance was a clear sign of his inner turmoil—a battle you knew all too well. He was adept at seeing the good in everyone else, lifting others with his quiet strength and perceptive insights, yet he was blind to the light within himself.
Determined to breach the distance he had imposed, you resolved to confront the barriers he had erected. Catching Azriel was never easy; he was as elusive as the shadows he commanded, adept at hiding his deepest fears and desires. But love, you had decided, was not a thing to be easily relinquished or left unspoken. It was a force as formidable as the magic Azriel wielded, and you were prepared to wield it with all the determination and tenderness it demanded.
You waited for him in his bedroom, adorned in one of your finest and sheerest black lace nightgowns, draped with a silk robe that whispered with every subtle movement. Positioned on the chaise in the corner of his spacious room, you gazed intently into the floor-length mirror adjacent to the door, reflecting not only your own anxious anticipation but also the room’s dark, elegant aesthetic.
As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the tension and expectancy built within you. The only sound was the quiet rustle of your gown and the distant, muffled noises of the House of Wind settling for the night.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped through. His arrival was signaled not by a flourish, but by a weary sigh, his silhouette framed momentarily in the doorway. His shoulders were slumped, bearing the invisible yet palpable weight of his duties and doubts.
As he entered, his familiar shadows danced around him, a dark entourage that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Interestingly, the shadows flickered towards you briefly, acknowledging your presence as if in greeting. Yet, they maintained their silence, not alerting Azriel to your presence. It was as if they, too, conspired in your plan, understanding perhaps the necessity of this confrontation.
Azriel, oblivious to your presence and caught up in his own thoughts, moved slowly into the room. He loosened the clasps of his cloak and began to shed the layers of his formal attire, each movement heavy with exhaustion. It was only as he turned to hang his cloak in the wardrobe that he caught your reflection in the mirror. His movements halted abruptly; his eyes locked onto yours in the reflected image. A complex mixture of surprise, confusion, and a flicker of something deeper played across his features. For a moment, he simply stared, as if processing the sight and its implications.
“Why are you here?” His voice, though soft, carried the weight of his weary confusion and lingering shadows of his earlier brooding.
The room felt charged, the air thick with the unsaid, as you stood gracefully, letting the silk robe fall slightly to reveal more of the delicate lace clinging to your form. “I’m here for you, Azriel,” you said, your voice a gentle yet firm declaration. “I’ve seen how you’ve been carrying your burdens, and you don’t have to bear them alone. Not anymore.”
Your words hung in the air, a soft yet undeniable challenge to the walls he had built around himself. His initial shock gave way to a resigned vulnerability, the barriers beginning to falter under the weight of your sincerity and the palpable concern in your eyes.
Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a long, silent moment, the battle within him almost visible. Then, slowly, the shadows around him seemed to retreat slightly, as if giving him the space to breathe, to decide. It was your turn to wait, the outcome of your bold move hanging delicately in the balance.
Your movements were smooth and deliberate, each step carrying the quiet confidence of someone who knows their power. As Azriel's gaze lingered on you in the mirror, the sheer lace of your nightgown played a tantalizing dance over your skin, hinting at the promises concealed beneath. When you let the silk robe slip from your shoulders, pooling silently at your feet, his reaction was instantaneous—a low grunt of undisguised desire and perhaps, a hint of conflict.
"You've been avoiding me," you murmured, your voice as soft and enticing as the silk that had just glided off your body. "I missed you, Azriel." The words were simple, but they carried the weight of your genuine concern and longing.
His jaw tensed, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his inner turmoil. Muscles tight, he took in the sight of you—each curve accentuated by the delicate lace, the soft lighting casting shadows that played over your form. Doubt flickered behind his gaze, a constant companion in his thoughts. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough with a mix of confusion and rising heat.
Smirking slightly, you stepped closer, each movement calculated to show your appreciation of his formidable presence. His impressive wings, the strong lines of his body—every inch of him spoke of a crafted perfection that took your breath away. But beyond the physical, you saw the soul of the man who had stood by you through centuries, his loyalty unwavering, his strength a beacon. Tonight, you were determined to show Azriel just how much he was loved and adored. He deserved to feel valued, not just by those around him but by himself. If he needed a reminder, you were more than ready to provide it, to break down the barriers he had erected around his heart.
Reaching him, you placed a hand lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. "Let me remind you," you said, standing on tiptoes to whisper directly into his ear, your breath a warm caress. "Let me show you how much you mean to me, to all of us. You are not alone, Azriel. You never have been." The intensity of your words seemed to pierce through his defenses. For a moment, he was still, the only movement the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against him, his embrace a silent acceptance of your offer. His forehead rested against yours, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you shared.
"Mhm," you hum softly, letting one of your hands wander down his back, feeling the tense muscles beneath his shirt as your fingers explore the broad expanse of his shoulders, tracing his tattoos. The warmth of his skin radiated through the fabric, speaking of the battles he fought both outside and within himself. "I want to make you feel good," you whispered, a promise laden with devotion and want.
Azriel's response was almost imperceptible, a slight relaxation under your touch as he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. His eyes remained closed, focusing intently on the sensation of your hand moving over him. The muscle in his jaw worked silently, a visible sign of the tension he carried. As your scent enveloped him—sweet notes of arousal mixed with the calming lavender of your soap—it threatened to undo the control he so rigidly held over himself. He suppressed a groan, the depth of his yearning surfacing despite his best efforts to maintain composure.
Your other hand gently traced the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there and willing it to ease. "Let go with me, Az," you coaxed, your voice low and soothing. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me." Your words, heartfelt and sincere, aimed to penetrate the walls he built around his emotions, to reach the man who so rarely allowed himself the luxury of being cared for.
Slowly, Azriel opened his eyes, the usual guarded hazel depths now shimmering with a mix of emotions—conflict, desire, and a dawning realization that he could perhaps find solace in your arms. His hand reached up to cover yours, pressing it against his cheek, turning his face to plant a soft kiss in the palm of your hand. It was a small gesture, yet laden with significance, an acknowledgment of his trust and his willingness to lean on you, if only for the night.
You pull him into a kiss, one that starts soft and gentle but quickly escalates into something deeper, more meaningful. Your hand, not content with merely cupping his cheek, slides to the hem of his pants, palming his hardening length through the fabric. The moment he groans softly into the kiss, you seize the opportunity to deepen it, slipping your tongue into his mouth, fully asserting your presence.
The kiss turns heated in an instant. Azriel's hands wander to your waist, his touch sending shivers through your body as he feels your heated skin through the thin fabric of your nightgown. "Fuck," he grunts as the kiss breaks, his eyes roaming over you with newfound intensity. He takes in the sight of your nipples, visibly strained against the sheer lace. "You look..." he trails off, exhaling sharply, the raw desire evident in his gaze. "Absolutely breathtaking."
Encouraged by his reaction, you begin to undress him slowly, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. As you peel away his clothing, his heart hammers in his chest, the sensation distinctly different, more intimate than any encounter before. This wasn't just about physical need—it was about connection, about exposing not just bodies but also hidden depths of emotion.
His shirt falls away, and you take a moment to trace the lines of his well-defined chest, your fingers exploring each scar and muscle, a silent testament to his battles and burdens. Each touch seems to speak words you both had held back, acknowledging his vulnerabilities and strengths without needing to articulate them verbally.
As you kneel to undo his belt, your proximity to him intensifies the atmosphere. The sound of the buckle clinking softly as you open his pants is almost deafening in the quiet room. You glance up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours, a mixture of apprehension and longing swirling within.
With his pants finally loosened, you help him step out of them, leaving him as exposed as you are, both physically and emotionally. Standing back up, you press your body against his, feeling the heat radiating from him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest synchronizing with yours.
"Let me take care of you tonight," you whisper against his lips, a promise hanging between you, as heavy and tangible as the air itself. "Let me love you, Azriel." You guide Azriel to stand before the large mirror, positioning him so that he can see both himself and your reflection. Standing just behind him, you drape your arms over his broad shoulders, allowing your hands to roam freely across the hard planes of his chest. The room's temperature seems to climb with each deliberate caress, the air charged with an electric current of anticipation and desire.
Catching his gaze in the mirror, you let a slow, confident smirk play across your lips. "I want you to watch," you murmur, locking eyes with him through the reflection. Your voice is low, a sultry command that sends a thrill through him.
Your hands move with practiced ease, tracing down his abdomen, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. "Look at how strong you are, my love," you whisper, your voice a mix of admiration and desire.
You hold Azriel's gaze in the mirror, your eyes locking with his as you let your hand slide into the waistband of his underwear, feeling the soft, silky skin of his hard cock beneath your fingertips. Your touch elicits a shiver from him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans into your embrace, his wings twitching with anticipation.
"I want you to repeat what I say," you murmur, your voice a seductive whisper as you continue to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate. You feel the tension in his body, the way he strains against your touch, and you revel in the power you have over him in this moment.
"Say it," you command softly, your tone firm yet loving. "Repeat after me."
His breath comes out in shallow pants as he nods, his eyes still closed, lost in the sensations you're evoking in him. "I-I'll repeat," he manages to whisper, his voice husky.
You smile, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you guide him through the words, each one a testament to his worth and your desire for him. "I am worthy," you say, your voice steady and sure. "I am strong. I am loved."
Azriel's voice trembles slightly as he echoes your words, his own affirmation mingling with yours in the air between you. "I am worthy," he repeats, his voice growing stronger with each repetition. "I am strong. I am loved."
You feel a swell of pride and affection for him as he speaks, his words a declaration of self-worth and acceptance. But you're not done yet—you want him to know just how much he means to you, how deeply you desire him.
Leaning closer, you press a kiss to the shell of his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you murmur words of adoration and desire. "You're so fucking sexy, Az," you breathe, your voice low and sultry. "Your body, your mind, your heart—I want all of you. I need all of you."
As you continue to stroke Azriel, you feel him twitch with each movement of your hand, a visceral response to your touch that drives you both further into the realm of lust. The air between you charges with electricity, every touch and whisper amplifying the tension that wraps around you like a tangible force.
"You are incredible," you breathe out, each word laden with desire as you maintain the rhythmic motion of your hand. "Feel every stroke, every touch. This is how much you affect me, how much you are wanted."
His back arches slightly as he presses into you, his breathing deepening. The heat from his body radiates, mingling with yours, creating an enveloping warmth that makes the air around you shimmer. "I love how you respond to me," you continue, your voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers down his spine. "Every shudder, every moan. You're so beautifully responsive."
Your words of praise and the relentless motion of your hand draw deep moans from him, each one escaping his lips like a confession. His hands find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours to increase the pressure, guiding you in the silent language of lovers intimately familiar with each other’s desires.
"Look at us," you command gently, nodding towards the mirror. His eyes open slowly, heavy with arousal, and meet yours in the reflection. The sight of yourselves, wrapped in such an intimate tableau, heightens the erotic charge of the moment. "See how perfect you look, giving in to pleasure. This is you—powerful yet so open and vulnerable with me."
You press your body closer against his, your chest flush against his back, letting him feel the full length of your body, the firmness of your breasts against him. "You are so strong, Azriel, but here with me, you don’t have to be. Just feel," you whisper, accentuating your words with a firmer stroke, pushing him closer to the edge.
You continue your tender assault, spreading kisses from his neck down his shoulder, each touch light and reverent. Azriel's breath comes in heavy pants, a sign of the deep pleasure coursing through him as your thumb grazes the throbbing, sensitive head of his cock, slick with arousal. The gentle yet deliberate movements of your hand contrast with the intensity of the moment, creating a stirring blend of tenderness and heat.
"You're doing so well," you murmur, peppering his skin with soft kisses that make him shiver under your touch. "Feel every sensation, let it wash over you. You deserve this pleasure," you continue, your words dripping with affirmation and encouragement.
As he tries to savor the moment, clinging to the waves of pleasure you elicit from him, you notice the overwhelmed look in his eyes—a mix of disbelief and ecstasy at the gentleness of the encounter. His usual demeanor of control and restraint is nowhere to be seen, replaced by raw, unguarded vulnerability in the reflection of the mirror.
"Keep going, Az," you whisper, your voice a sultry command that sends a shiver down his spine. "Tell yourself how good it feels, praise yourself like I praise you."
A flush of embarrassment mixed with arousal colors his cheeks, his gaze darkening further as he meets your eyes in the mirror. The intimacy of the moment, your hands skillfully wrapped around him, heightens the erotic charge between you. His voice, when it finally emerges, is husky and hesitant, but grows in confidence with each word. "It feels... incredible. I am... strong, and I am desired."
Hearing Azriel voice his own pleasure, a rare admission from him, something coils deep within your stomach, a mix of pride and further craving. His words, reflecting both the affirmations you've given and his own acceptance of them, deepen the connection, making this moment about more than physical pleasure—it's about emotional liberation and acceptance. "Look at how powerful you are, how much control you have over your own pleasure," you guide him, your voice both soothing and seductive.
Encouraged by your words, he begins to move his hips subtly, entering into a rhythm guided by the motions of your hand. His own words become more assured, his voice stronger. "I am powerful... I am worthy of this pleasure... I deserve this."
As he articulates his own worth, his climax builds, the tension in his body winding tighter. His breathing grows erratic, and you tighten your grip just slightly, increasing the pace, pushing him closer with a loving yet firm hand.
"Let go, Azriel," you coax as he teeters on the brink, your voice soft yet commanding. Azriel's grunt resonates with a newfound confidence, his instincts beginning to surface as he takes control. His hips snap forward decisively, rutting into your hand with a series of firm, deliberate thrusts. His gaze locks onto yours in the mirror—dark, intense, filled with a fiery desire that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.
"What do you want, Azriel?" you ask, your voice a soft challenge, laced with curiosity and an undercurrent of your own need for him. The question seems to unleash something within him, a torrent of pent-up longing.
With a decisive movement, he gently removes your hand from his length, confusion flickering across your face. But before you can question his actions, he swiftly pulls you around to face him. The sudden shift in dynamics catches you off guard, and you find yourself staring up into his heated eyes, your back pressed against the cool surface of the mirror.
Azriel's hands find your waist, his grip firm but not constricting, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I want you," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to show you just how much I need you, how deep my desire runs."
He pauses, his eyes searching yours for a moment, gauging your reaction, before continuing with a more raw, almost primal tone. "I want to see you unravel beneath me, hear you moan my name as I take you, right here, right now."
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling within you. The audacity of his words, the explicitness of his desires—it's intoxicating.
"I want to feel your body tremble as I fill you, to watch your face in the mirror as you come undone from my touch." His fingers trail up your side, light but purposeful, drawing a line of fire along your skin.
Before you can respond, he bends down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that seals his vow, a kiss so deep and consuming that it leaves you breathless. When he pulls back slightly, his gaze is unyielding, locked onto yours with an intensity that holds the world at bay.
"This is what I want," he declares, his voice a blend of raw need and absolute certainty. "Tell me you want it too."
Caught in the whirlwind of his passion, your own desires flare to life, matching his intensity. "Yes," you breathe out, the word a surrender to the storm, an acceptance of his claim over you. "Yes, I want it, Azriel."
Satisfied with your affirmation, he smiles, a predatory, triumphant curve of his lips that promises untold pleasures. The chill causes your nipples to harden immediately, a visible reaction that doesn't escape his intense gaze. His eyes, dark and predatory, drink in every inch of your revealed skin with undisguised hunger. His scarred hand ventures lower, tracing a bold path down your abdomen until it finds the heat between your legs. You gasp, a soft moan escaping your lips, as his fingers explore your wetness, a rough groan vibrating from his throat in response to your arousal.
"Azriel," you whimper, your voice laced with need and a faint protest, "this was supposed to be about you."
He looks up at you, a sly grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Believe me," he responds, his voice low and husky, pressing his fingers more insistently against you, "making you feel good is very much in my best interest." His words are punctuated by a deliberate stroke that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, making your knees buckle slightly.
He steadies you with a firm arm around your waist, his touch both possessive and protective. "Seeing you unravel, hearing you moan my name—it’s what I need right now," he continues, his tone both commanding and coaxing. Azriel gently turns you to face the mirror, pulling you back against his chest. The heat of his body envelops you, and you feel the firm pressure of his arousal against your lower back. Instinctively, one of your hands reaches back between your bodies, grasping him firmly, feeling his length and hardness, which elicits a soft groan from both of you.
His fingers continue their expert ministrations, circling, teasing, pushing you toward the edge with skilled precision.
The room seems to close in around you, the mirror reflecting your intertwined forms, a visual echo of the intense connection that sizzles between you. Every touch, every whisper, intensifies the electric charge in the air, pulling you deeper into the vortex of desire.
As Azriel's hand works its magic, you find yourself leaning back into his chest, seeking support as your body begins to tremble under the onslaught of pleasure. His other hand travels up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple in a rhythm that mirrors the actions of his fingers below.
"This is about us," Azriel murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "About me showing you how much you mean to me, how much I want you." Azriel’s touch becomes even more deliberate as he strokes your clit, his fingers tracing the contours of your slick folds before teasing at your entrance. All the while, he whispers sweet affirmations into your ear.
In the mirror, Azriel watches every reaction that flickers across your face—each flutter of your eyelids, every bite of your lip, the way your brows furrow slightly in concentration and pleasure. This visual feedback drives him, his actions tuned to elicit more of those beautiful responses.
"You always make me feel incredible, Azriel," you breathe out, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "No one else can make me feel like this."
His eyes, dark with his want and need, reflect a mix of pride and deep affection. "You’re mine," he affirms, the possessive words not a demand but a declaration. His fingers resume their motion, now with a renewed vigor, as if spurred on by your admissions.
You watch together in the mirror as his fingers delve deeper, exploring you, his other hand caressing your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between expert fingers. The dual sensations, coupled with the intensely erotic sight of your intertwined bodies reflected back at you, drive your arousal higher. "I want you to see how much you enjoy this, how you respond to
me," Azriel murmurs, his lips grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to watch yourself come undone because of what I do to you." As the heat of your arousal intensifies, you find yourself overwhelmed by the need for more—for him. Your whispered disclosure sends a visible shudder through Azriel, and you feel his response in the twitch of his length in your grasp. His gaze softens, filled with a tumult of emotions that had shadowed him earlier, now mingling with the undeniable love and warmth radiating from your intertwined bodies.
"Earlier," he drawls, his voice thick with emotion as he thrusts one finger deep inside you, causing a sharp intake of breath. "You said you want all of me..." His words trail off as he watches your reaction, then, deliberately, he slides a second finger alongside the first, stretching and filling you, pausing to let each sensation sink in. "Not just my body, but my heart."
His fingers move rhythmically, pumping into your core as his body presses flush against yours, his breath warm against the skin of your neck. His lips gently flutter over your skin, each touch a whisper of affection and promise. "Tell me," he commands softly, his request hanging in the air, laden with deeper implications.
Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you breathe out your confession, each word laced with the depth of your feelings. "I love you, Azriel." The words hang between you, powerful and sincere. As his movements inside you pause, you continue, compelled to reassure him of his worth. "You deserve to be loved. I don't know anyone else who deserves it more than you do."
In that moment, something shifts in Azriel’s eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, a glint that might be the beginning of belief, something warm and soft. His fingers resume their motion, but now with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swelling in the room. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, only to replace them with the head of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. The anticipation makes your heart beat wildly, every nerve alight with the need for him.
"You deserve to be loved too," Azriel whispers back, his voice husky with emotion. "And I—I love you, more than I ever thought possible." With that confession, he pushes forward, entering you in one smooth, deliberate motion that makes you gasp both from the fullness and the profound significance of his words. As the intensity of your passion deepens, each thrust is imbued with a profound sense of connection, a merging of souls as much as bodies. Azriel's eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration, remain locked on yours in the mirror, capturing every expression of pleasure that dances across your features.
You're bent forward slightly, your back arched, your body yielding to his as he continues to fill you with each delicious thrust. Wet sounds fill the air, mingling with heavy breathing and soft pleas as the rhythm of your lovemaking builds, each movement proof to the depth of your connection.
Unlike your previous encounters, which were fueled by hunger and passion, now it is suffused with something more profound—love. "My legs are about to give out," you whimper, feeling the strain of the pleasure coursing through your body.
Azriel responds by pulling you back against his chest, his hand firm yet gentle around your throat, guiding you to stand straight as he continues to grind his hips against yours. The sensation of his cock nestled deep inside you, combined with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, sends wave after wave of pleasure through you. With a soft smile and a lingering touch, he slowly withdraws from you, the air cool against your heated skin. Turning you to face him, his eyes brim with love—a look so intense, it feels as though it could completely engulf you. He seals his emotions with a kiss, tender and passionate, a perfect echo of the feelings swirling between you.
He guides you gently towards the bed, sinking back first onto the soft sheets. You climb over him, straddling his hips with graceful ease. Lowering yourself back down onto him, a mutual groan fills the space, the sensation overwhelming yet deeply right. The kiss never breaks, each movement of your lips in sync with the rolling motion of your hips.
His hands find your hips, gripping gently, guiding and meeting each movement with his own. Every thrust is a word unsaid, every connection a line in a poem of your intertwining lives. The way his body responds to yours, the way your heartbeats seem to synchronize with each thrust, it all culminates into an exquisite dance of love. As you continue to move rhythmically above him, Azriel's words flow like a soothing stream, each phrase dripping with affection and devotion, encouraging your every motion. "You're everything to me," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble that vibrates through your core. His hands are tender yet purposeful, one gliding to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles that send waves of pleasure crashing through you.
The intensity of his touch makes you gasp, your head tilting back as stars burst behind your closed eyelids. Feeling the shift, Azriel gently guides you back down, his body rising to meet yours. His lips find the delicate skin of your breasts, and his teeth graze lightly, careful not to hurt but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He marks you lovingly, each kiss and nibble a witness to his deep feelings, branding you as his in the most intimate of ways.
The room is filled with the sound of your combined sighs and the soft rustle of the sheets as you move together. Azriel's other hand anchors you, his fingers digging gently into your hips, guiding your movements to meet his upward thrusts. The dual stimulation of his fingers on your clit and his deep, steady strokes inside you draws you ever closer to the edge.
His eyes never leave your face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every shift of emotion as you ride the waves together. He sits up slightly, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, chest to chest, heart to heart. His breath is warm on your neck, his murmurs filled with words of love and future promises.
"Let go with me," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "Let me feel you come undone."
Encouraged by his words and overwhelmed by the mounting pleasure, you surrender fully to the sensations. The world narrows down to the here and now, to the feel of Azriel beneath you, inside you, all around you. As you climax, your body tightens around him, a wave of euphoria washing over you in an intense, all-encompassing rush, crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Azriel follows shortly after, his own release spurred by the tightening grip of your body and the overwhelming sense of love.
In the aftermath, you collapse against him, both of you panting, sweat mingling, hearts beating in a synchronized rhythm of deep contentment. Azriel's arms hold you close, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
"We are made for each other," he breathes out, a smile in his voice, the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. As you lie intertwined with Azriel, the tender strokes of his fingers drawing soft patterns on your back, a sense of tranquility envelops you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and affection. The air is filled with a serene stillness, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.
You feel a surge of emotion welling up within you, a profound sense of gratitude for this man who holds you in his arms. With a soft smile playing on your lips, you nestle closer to him, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. It's as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of love and warmth.
"Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "you deserve the world and more." Your words are imbued with sincerity, each syllable carrying the weight of your affection. "You've always been the one to give so much, to sacrifice without hesitation. And yet, you never ask for anything in return."
Tears well up in your eyes as you continue, overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings. "You're the most beautiful soul I've ever known, inside and out. And I... I love you more than words can express."
A soft gasp escapes your lips as you struggle to articulate the depth of your emotions, the magnitude of your love for him. "Sometimes," you admit, your voice barely a whisper, "it feels like the weight of the world is crushing down on me, suffocating me. But then... then you walk into the room, and suddenly, everything becomes clear. I can breathe again." Your confession hangs in the air, the silence punctuated only by the gentle rise and fall of your breaths.
As tears well up in Azriel's eyes, his gaze meets yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. His brows furrow with the intensity of his feelings, and he pulls you closer to him, wrapping you in a tight embrace. With trembling hands, he gently lifts your chin, capturing your lips in a soul-crushing kiss.
In that moment, he pours every ounce of love and tenderness into the kiss, conveying with each touch the depth of his emotions. As you part, his chest heaves with emotion, and he gazes into your eyes with a vulnerability that renders you speechless.
"My love," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "those words... they mean more to me than you could ever know." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch feather-light against your skin. "I never thought myself deserving of such affection," he confesses, his voice raw with honesty. "But you..”
He takes a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from yours. "With you by my side, I can finally sleep peacefully," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "For centuries, I wandered in darkness, haunted by my past. But with you, I've found solace, a sense of peace that I never thought possible."
You reach out, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs gently wiping away the tears that still linger in his honey-colored eyes. "Az," you whisper, your voice filled with tenderness, "you deserve all the love in the world. You are worthy of every ounce of affection I have to give."
With a soft smile, you press a kiss to his lips, a silent promise of your unwavering devotion. "Together," you murmur against his lips, "we'll navigate through the darkness, hand in hand, until we find the light." In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of each other's embrace, you know that you've found your home in each other's arms. And as you hold each other close, you're filled with a sense of peace and contentment that you know will carry you through whatever trials lie ahead.
#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#smut#acotar#x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel#imagine#reader insert#azriel smut#azriel fluff#fluff
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✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵
[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc
[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy
[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his
[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick
[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience
[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes
[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that
[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.
[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."
[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side
[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you
[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s
[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore
[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife
[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too
[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up
[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying
[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime
[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you
[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you
[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still
[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him
[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two
[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often
[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking
[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you
you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion ����🏻
here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3
taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami
xoxo sarah <3
#sub mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle masterlist#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#slytherin boys fluff#slytherin boys smut#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys headcanons
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𝐃𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬
Word count: 1.5k
Summary: Being John's sister and dating Jack even though you were warned to steer clear.
Note: I literally wrote this in like 30 min so it's probably not great and doesnt make sense but I've had this thought in my head for too long I needed to write it down.
Working for the Devils social media team was the first job you ever truly enjoyed, but it definitely kept you busy. For the first couple of months, you were still trying to figure out how you were going to balance working so often while also having a personal life. The idea seemed outlandish and absurd at first, but then a certain player wiggled his way into your life and everything suddenly became much easier. He made sure you were setting time aside to take care of yourself, but he also made sure that you weren’t falling behind on work because it would stress you out.
Your relationship with Jack was something you kept hidden away from everyone else. You knew that if word got out, you would be seen as the exact stereotype many think women in sports to be, while he would get off with a slap of the wrist. Dating him wasn’t necessarily against any written rules, but it was implied. However, the most important factor of all was your brother, who just so happened to be on the same team.
John was an easy going, passive guy who was never outwardly rude to anyone, choosing to mostly keep to himself. When he found out you had applied to and gotten the job with the Devils, he was elated to have his younger sister in the same city as him again. He introduced you to the team, to his other friends, and showed you around the city. He also made sure to warn you to steer clear of any of his teammates. Though obviously, you didn’t listen.
It was an easy practice day in the middle of a four day break, so you and your co-worker were tasked with making a new TikTok video for the team account. The idea you were given made you want to laugh at the irony, but you went along with it with no complaints. The both of you set up right off the ice where they would walk down to the locker room. She was holding the phone while you stood to the side with a sign that said ‘Who on the team would you NOT let date your sister?’.
Slowly, the guys began to trickle off the ice as practice ended and most of them had stopped to answer the question with willing smiles. Curtis and Brendan said they didn’t want any of the guys to date their sister, a couple others saying they wouldn’t mind because they trusted their team, but overall the answers had been combinations of Holtz, Dawson, and Timo (courtesy of Jonas and Nico).
John was stepping off the ice with Jack following closely behind, and your co-worker briefly tossed you an amused look that you simply shook your head at. She knew nothing about your private relationship with Jack, but she knew about your relationship to John and she found the situation amusing. They both paused in front of the two of you, Jack standing slightly to the side as John chuckled to himself.
“Is all of them acceptable,” He looks into the camera, a teasing grin on his face, “But, if I had to choose, I’d say Jack.”
You could tell that he was picking on the younger boy just because he was there, but his response made you choke on your own spit. Jack’s eyes were wide in slight panic as he subtly steps towards you and John’s head snapped towards you, his hand instinctively reaching over to pat your back as you doubled over. Your co-worked had turned the phone off as she glanced between you and Jack, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Jesus, are you okay,” John asks, his eyes briefly flitting towards Jack.
“Yeah,” You wheezed, “I’m great. Just forgot how to breathe I guess.”
“Okay,” He dragged out, “Do you need a ride home today?”
You straighten your back as you try to catch your breath, doing your best to not look towards Jack as you say, “No, not today.”
As the rest of the team came and went, the uncomfortable situation was pushed to an afterthought in your mind. Once you had caught everyone who was willing to participate, the two of you took everything down and made your way back to the office as you talked. She began to upload the video to the computer as you slipped your phone out to text Jack.
“You can head out,” Her voice breaks you away from the screen, “I can get it all done by myself. I still owe you from the other week.”
“Are you sure,” You ask.
“Yeah, of course! It’s an easy one,” She smiles, playfully waving you away, “But hey, if I were you, I’d talk to Andy about Jack. It’ll come out sooner rather than later, and it’ll save you a lot of trouble if he hears it from you.”
You were slightly caught off guard, but you simply gave her a tight-lipped smile and gathered all of your stuff before bidding her a goodbye. You texted Jack when you were on your way to the stairwell, telling him that you got out early and you would sit in one of the more common areas and wait for him if he was still in the gym. Though, he was quick to respond to say he was on his way out and he would meet you by the doors instead.
“Hey,” He called out when he saw you, “You need a ride?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him before saying, “Yeah, the guy I was supposed to ride with is kind of a jackass.”
He lets out a laugh that instantly makes you smile, pushing the door open so you could walk through. You walked beside him, making sure to keep an appropriate amount of space between you in case someone were to see the two of you. He made casual conversation, asking you about your work day and how you got lucky enough to get out early enough. It wasn’t until you were out of the parking garage that he reached over the center console to put his hand on your thigh.
“You think John knows,” Jack finally asks the question that's been on his mind, “Or was that just him being funny?”
“Honestly,” You let out a puff of air, “I think he was just joking, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep it from him.”
“Yeah, I know,” He sighs, delicately rubbing the inside of your thigh, “I don’t really want to keep it a secret anymore either.”
The rest of the drive you both sat with only the hum of the radio filling the silence. All you could think about was how badly things could end up if your boss or brother were to find out about your relationship through something other than yourself. There was nothing good that came out of that, and you knew that the truth was always unveiled no matter what. You just weren’t sure what was scarier, the risk of losing your job, or telling your brother you had been keeping a boyfriend from him for months.
When you had gotten back to Jack’s apartment, the two of you were quick to curl up together on the couch with your favorite movie on the tv. You were trying to keep yourself focused and present, but your mind kept drifting towards possibilities of John finding out about you and Jack somewhere that wasn’t you and how absolutely angry he’d be. How hurt he would be. You felt Jack keep glancing at you, but he didn’t say anything until he felt you shudder against him.
“Hey,” Jack whispers your name, his arm tightening around your waist, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I think we need to tell my brother,” You let out, anxious tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “I didn’t mind at first because I thought it was fun, but I can’t lie to him anymore. I won’t.”
“Okay,” He brought his hand to cup your jaw, “We can tell him. We can do whatever you want as long as you’re okay with it. That’s what I care about.”
Despite your efforts to keep your tears contained, Jack’s thumb wipes away at the few that slide down your cheeks. The way he was so tender, so attentive to your needs made a warmth spread in your chest that you only ever felt with him. Jack had always made sure you knew that everything the two of you did was something you were comfortable with because, as long as he had you, he would do anything.
“I love you,” You whisper, meeting his soft gaze.
“I love you more,” He smiles, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to your lips, “Do you think I’ll need my gear when we tell Johnny?”
#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes fic#nhl imagine#hockey imagine
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Club 141 AU - Part 4
Poly 141 x f!reader
Series Masterlist
This is a fictional depication of BDSM and proper vetting of new partners is essential for everyone. This is a work of fiction and liberties are being taken for the narrative. This (long awaited) part covers CNC/Consenual Not Consent. There is nothing wrong with this as long as it is in the real world context of a carefully negotiated dynamic with correct safeguards. Never let anyone push you to perform something you are not in wholehearted agreement with, and know your limits. Practice RACK: Risk Aware Consensual Kink.
TW: MDNI 18+, BDSM themes, CNC, degradation, forced blowjob, gunplay, bondage, mentions of blood, blindfold/hooding, p in v, rough sex, anal, double penetration, single safeword, no check-ins, aftercare and a hot tub
“You want to hunt me,” you repeat back to Price. It’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact. The man has just spent several minutes explaining to you how over the last few months you’ve settled into your role as the group’s sub perfectly. They were comfortable with you, and you quickly pointed out you were just as comfortable with each of them. You’d indulged in a variety of scenes with them, both individually and in groups, and it was easy to find a flow with the group.
“We want to hunt you,” Price echoes, leaning back in his throne-like armchair, the sounds of the club a distant murmur as you sit opposite him in the private room once again. His eyes watch you sharply, making you feel as though a microscope was pointed at you while you were pinned to a glass slide. Some days you felt he could read your very thoughts with his crytalline stare.
“Only if you’re ready,” Ghost rumbles, ever the one watching for everyone’s safety. He stood, arms crossed over his broad chest and leaning his hip against the back of Price’s leather chair. His gleaming skull mask fixed firmly in place as always, shining as though he took pains to polish the thing. Never once had you seen him without it.
Swallowing thickly, you pause to think, knowing full well that if you rush to agree one of them, if not both, will put the brakes on proceedings. They care that much about you, their precious and beloved submissive.
“How would this work?” you ask, receiving the instant reward of both men relaxing from their previous tense states.
“Good girl,” Ghost mumbles softly but it carries to you and a thrill skitters down your spine in response.
“If you agree,” Price begins, putting emphasis on the first word, “I have a friend who owns a few hundred acres of private land not far from here. There’s a cabinby a lake, with a hot tub.”
“Sounds romantic,” you say with a small smile.
“I suppose it does,” he agrees, leaning forward slightly. “Kyle explained we were in the military together, yes?”
“He did, that’s why they call you Captain,” you reply.
“That’s right,” Price smiles. “We still have some equipment, and a lot of experience in tracking people who don’t want to be caught.” A light enters his eyes as he speaks, an intensity you’ve come to know well, often when he has you by the throat and is promising you all manners of pleasure and pain.
“I understand,” you say, aware he has paused to check you are taking this in. Your breathing quickens as you hang on his every word.
“We would take you to a point in the woods near there and set you free, your goal being to get back to the cabin without being captured,” Price continues, his voice noticeably deepening. Ghost shifts slightly, making an obvious adjustment to make room for the stiffening of his cock as he listens and watches your reaction.
“What happens if I am captured?” you ask, feeding him the words you know he wants to hear. The leather of the armchair creaks as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees so he is closer to you. Your eyes watch his lips as he speaks, a memory of the taste of cigar smoke and scotch on them makes you salivate.
“What we always did. A captured enemy gets tortured,” he whispers softly, “until they break.”
A while later you sit at the club’s bar, perched on one of the elegant stools as Johnny and Kyle work the bar and you try to work through Price’s proposition in your head.
“Did they explain the whole thing to you?” Kyle asks as he places a cocktail on the marble top before you. You quickly take a sip to calm your jangling nerves.
“Oh yes, in lurid detail,” you answer, feigning shock and he laughs.
“Is the idea that bad?” he chuckles, his dark eyes warm with humour. “I thought you were a tough bird? Is the thought of us four stalking you through the dark so horrendous?”
You clench your thighs as he speaks, his honeyed voice dripping down your spine and pooling in your pelvis.
“No, not horrendous,” you reply, hoping he didn’t notice you shifting. One look up at him tells you he very clearly did see it, and your face warms with embarrassment.
“So it seems,” he drawls, leaning over the bar towards you. “So you gonna think it over? Give us a proper answer?”
You bite your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, just as Johnny walks over and looks between the two of you.
“You’re nae influencing her, are ya?” he chuckles, draping his arm over Kyle’s shoulder.
“No, just making sure she understands what’s at stake here,” Kyle grins and stands up, leaning against the other man. The pair look at you, grinning wickedly like a pair of devils trying to seduce you into some sinful act, despite looking as beautiful as angels in the soft light of the club.
“You two are going to be the death of me,” you laugh, feeling your face warming.
“What a way to go, eh?” Johnny winks back at you.
On Price’s insistence you take a few days to make your decision, and take the chance to talk it through with him, making sure you understand exactly what this will entail. The more you learn, and the more you read up, the more you want to experience this with them. Once you agree, you book a few days off work and they make the arrangements to rent the cabin and drive you up there. Its a warm summer day as you pull up at the cabin beside the lake, a few small outbuildings nearby and the promised hot tub positioned beside the small building on the lake side. Dense woodland surrounds everything. It all looks wonderfully romantic and cozy, especially considering the men you are staying here with, which jars against the activity you have planned for the evening.
The sun is just beginning to set a few hours later, you wiggle your toes in your hiking boots and pull on the tops of the socks peeking over the tops of them, the cool air pricking your skin. Price had warned you not to wear anything you were fond of, explaining clothes were unlikely to survive this scene, so you’d opted for an old sports bra and second favourite knickers, plus a plain white tee-shirt and some loose gym shorts. You hoped that as plain and simple as the look was, it was still appealing.
“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Price asks you, and you try not to look at him but he grasps your chin and turns your face towards him, forcing eye contact. The dark fatigues he is wearing make him look larger than normal, and the look in his eye tells you exactly how he is feeling about the idea of hunting you. Fear and arousal mix in your gut already, and you haven’t even seen the others or started yet.
“Yes, I’m sure,” you say firmly, knowing anything less will be questioned. You want to do this.
“Just like we went over at the club there will be no checking in during this scene once it starts. You have one safe word and that ends everything, understood?” His voice is firm, unwavering.
“I understand,” you confirm with what you hope is equal conviction. You glance around, the other three are nowhere to be seen, but they are watching you from somewhere close by.
“Okay, you get a ten minute head start and then we come after you,” he says, taking a step back. “The cabin is that way.”
You hesitate for a moment, uncertain on what to do, but he doesn’t seem inclined to speak further. Instead he turns his back on you and walks towards the car he had brought you out here in, not looking back.
With a quiet huff you take off at a trot in the direction Price had indicated, the fading light hampered by the dense coverage from the tree canopy above and adding to the gloom. Watching where you go, you try to count the seconds to the ten minute mark, trying to gauge when the hunt will begin. Your heart beats loudly, almost drowning out the idyllic sound of birds singing in the evening air.
Any more thoughts end abruptly when the sound of a gun firing behind you tears through the air. Small birds and animals startle around you, and you freeze much like a frightened deer. However, when the sound of sharp whistles and excited yelling begins behind you, your muscles burst back into life.
They have guns, why do they have guns, you repeat to yourself over and over as you scramble forward. Panic seeping icy fingers into you, slowing you when it should be spurring you on, to get away from them. The fear thaws when it reaches that small part of your brain that understands this is a game though, it pulses red hot and whispers to you to let them catch you, to see what will happen when you fall.
You start to run out of breath just as you make it to the edge of the lake through the trees. The lights from the cabin glow warmly in the distance, and you pick up the pace feeling more confident now you can see your goal. A smile begins to creep across your face, the big, bad soldiers were clearly rusty after all these years. They hadn’t even got close to you, in fact, the head start was probably too much.
The light has faded enough now that the trunks of the trees are nothing but dark shadows under the canopy of leaves. It’s almost peaceful, no others sounds over the rustling of leaves and your own footsteps. You slow down, considering waiting for the guys to catch up so the game isn’t wasted, when a tall figure detaches from the shadows ahead of you.
A red mask covers the top part of his face, a Mohawk standing up above, and despite the obvious signs of it being Johnny, you feel terror. He’s wearing combat gear, some kind of rifle held in his hands and pointing at your feet. This isn’t your friend, your Dominant, this is a man trained to kill and you can see it in the way he carries himself as he steps forward. You spin on the spot and go to run back the way you came, but stop dead in your tracks.
The Grim Reaper is waiting for you, tall and dressed in black with a hood up around his skull face. He strides towards, an arm raised to grab you, but your body takes over and you dart to the side into the trees once more.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you run through the low undergrowth, clumsy and undignified. Plunging madly through the woods now, a tiny part of your mind wondering how they caught up with you without you hearing them. This makes you realise exactly what you’re up against, these are trained soldiers. You truly are fucked.
As you run, a shadow separates from a tall shrub ahead of you and sprints towards you, low and deadly. You try to turn but arms wrap around your waist, swinging you around and throwing you off balance completely. You hit the ground face down, breath knocked from your lungs just as a heavy body lands on your back. Instinctively your wail in dismay, the man on your back grabbing your throat and squeezing at the same moment, his hips grinding viciously against your backside so you feel his hard length.
“You lose,” Kyle's voice growls into your ear as a canvas sack is pulled over your head, your arms wrenched roughly behind you back and held firmly in a gloved hand. “Up.”
He drags you to your feet, cold metal presses against your neck under the edge of the hood, and there’s a sharp click. A sound you’ve heard in movies enough times to recognise it, a gun. A bubbling whine of terror creeps up your throat, and escapes into the darkness of the hood. The answering growl twists the fear and turns it into something else, something hot and sharp that spikes into your gut. Arousal.
“Walk,” he sneers, and you rely on him to guide you through the undergrowth.
You stumble blindly, disorientation adding an extra level to your confusion, as you are half march, half drag you somewhere. The change in flooring and slam of a door lets you know you are inside a building, but it's impossible to know where you are. The sound of heavy boots on a rough floor echo around you, and you are dumped unceremoniously in a chair with thin arm-rests. You flinch at the loud noise of tape being pulled from a roll, and your wrists and ankles are secured to the chair.
The hood is pulled away, bright light blinding you from a lamp shining directly in your face, but this is a short lived issue as a blindfold swiftly covers your eyes. Fingers twist in your hair and yank your head back, pulling a cry from your lips, but this is quickly muffled by the cock that is shoved into your mouth. After a second of confusion, heat floods your chest and you lean into the intrusion, mouth watering around the salty skin.
“Fuck, look at her go!”
“Greedy bitch, she’s gagging for it. Have you not been fed, love?” one of them taunts you.
While insults and jibes are tossed at you, whoever has hold of you by the hair continues to forcefully fuck your face, their hips grinding his cock further and further into your throat until you feel the edge of you gag reflex tightening. You focus on breathing steadily through your nose, feeling drool seeping around the thick shaft and onto your chest. Before long your thin tee is sticking to you, no doubt showing your bra underneath.
“Fuck, lemme in on that.” The Scottish lilt identifies Johnny easily. It’s all the warning you get before your head is roughly grabbed and turned to the other side, a few seconds to breathe freely are given before another cock slams into your mouth as you gasp for air.
“Oh fuck, yeah that’s good,” the new comer grunts, twisting your hair to add sharp pain to the mix. You whimper, and his rhythm falters slightly at the sound buzzing your throat around the head of his dick. “Ughh…” he grunts, and he shifts his weight momentarily before the cold press of metal returns, this time against your temple. A tremble runs down your spine and ends with a clenching of your pussy, a half whimper, half moan leaves you and his hiss is audible at your reactions.
“Shit, you like that you nasty slut?” Johnny’s thrust become harsher, his grip on your head tight and almost painful as the gun presses into your skin. Drool runs around his shaft, leaking down your chin, and his huffs of breath shorten.
“Ya gonna swallow every drop,” he mutters. “Don’t waste any of what I give ya.” His breaths become moans, more and more desperate as he chases his high and before much longer he comes. You're forced to swallow or choke, and you suck down the thick strings of cum.
“Enough, get her out of the chair and strip her,” Ghost’s gravely voice orders, and quickly both gun and dick are gone, leaving you coughing and gasping.
The tape binding you to the chair snaps, a cold blade touching your skin as it is cut and a taste of freedom hits you. Despite the blindfold you try to bolt from the chair, determined to play your part in this fully and try to escape.
“Fucking bitch! Get her down,” Price barks in anger.
“No!” you scream as you feel a heavy body tackle you down. Under the oppressive weight you kick and struggle, gasping for breath through the pressure of whichever one of them holds you down.
“Stupid cunt, you’ll get what’s coming to ya now,” Johnny’s voice hisses. Hands pull you boots and socks off, your shorts quickly following despite your wild kicks. You feel one foot connect with one of them, a triumphant smile crossing your lips at the muffled grunt this causes, but strong hands catch your ankles, pulling them wide and pinning them to the floor. Your exposed pussy pulses, wet and hot in the cold air, and the sound of a zip cuts through the air.
“She fucking kicked me, I go first,” Kyle complains, and someone huffs a short laugh in answer. Again you try to fight, kick and struggle, but each limb is pinned to the rough floor and you only scrape yourself against the wood planks. Kyle kneels between your thighs, his body covering you and then his cock spears into you, stretching you wide.
“Stop!” you whine, the wrongness of the word on your tongue making your pussy clench tighter. He doesn’t hesitate, ignoring your plea and goes right to a pounding, punishing rhythm, curling over you so his grunts and groans play out beside your ear.
“Don’t fight, it’s too late for that now,” Kyle’s voice drips into your ear, and that part of your brain that grips to the reality that this isn’t real purrs back to life, quelling the panic slightly.
“Blind fold off, I want to see her face properly,” you hear Price bark, a note of authority in his voice you’ve not heard before and the rawness of the situation hits you. They are stripped back of all their civility, almost their humanity as they work you over, and you understand the itch that this is scratching for them. The blindfold is pulled away and you blink rapidly, trying to focus on the dark shapes around you. Ghost pins your hands above your head, while Price and Johnny restrain a leg each.
Kyle fucks you mercilessly, the rough fabric of his combat trousers rubbing at your skin and adding more friction, his public bone hitting your clit.
“Such a tight little cunt,” Kyle groans, his hands shifting and pushing up underneath your top and sports bra to squeeze your tits. The brutal swing of his hips doesn’t falter, your body tight as you pull against the hands holding you down and clenching around his thick dick.
The orgasm comes almost out of nowhere, quickly building and releasing within you and slicing through you. It makes you archly sharply off the ground, and Kyle barks hoarsely as he is dragged over the edge with you, burying his load deep inside you with unsteady thrusts.
“Thought you’d last longer than that mate,” Johnny teases as Kyle sits back, breathing heavily.
“Fuck you,” he bites back. “You shot your load quick enough.”
“Can’t blame me with a toy like this,” Johnny answers sinfully.
“Shut up you two,” Ghost interrupts, and you glance up as he releases your wrists and stands. Your legs are shaking, as much as you want to try moving again you don’t think you can. As he stands up and begins to unbuckle his belt, you groan softly. He peels off his vest and shirt, before getting down on the ground beside you, laying on his back. Price and Johnny grip your arms and pull your unresisting body over his, face down.
Sweat slicks your skin as you are pushed down onto Ghost’s chest, and with your legs held apart he sheathes his cock inside your pussy with a single, hard thrust that has you arching your back. The rasping of breath from behind his mask tells you how much the feel of your cunt affects him, hot and pulsing around his cock already.
“Get comfortable, you’ve got more to come yet,” he chuckles darkly, and you notice he is looking over your shoulder. Think fingers press at your exposed asshole, cold liquid smearing across the puckered hold.
"No! Don't, please," you plead weakly, unable to move as Ghost hold you against his chest.
“Shut up,” you hear Price snap close behind you, just before shoving a thick digit inside your arse and working it in and out a few times. Suddenly, the intrusion is removed and you relax slightly.
Before you recover, the head of a meaty, slicked up cock presses against your asshole and pushes inside. It’s like every single nerve fibre between your neck and knees has come to life, and you let out a desperate keen at the pleasure. The fullness of almost being stretched to breaking is intense, and the choppy, rough thrusts of Price working into your backside send your mind blank. You’re no stranger to anal but having them both inside you at once is a whole new sensation.
Without any pause they both begin to pump into you, deep grunts and curses the only sound you can hear. You can’t tell if you’re being ripped apart or fucked better than you’ve ever felt in your life. All you can do is try to remember to breathe as you grip onto Ghost biceps, fingernails cutting into his skin and drawing tiny trickles of blood. Your cries build and crescendo into frenzied noises, your sensitive nerves alive and running with liquid lightning as the two men push you further and further.
The orgasm that rips through you steals your hearing and vision, your brain turns to pure nothingness for a few seconds and you forget to breathe as hot ecstasy tears through every cell of your body. Your exhausted muscles spasm, gripping and milking Price and Ghost’s cocks, pushing them over the edge so they both come, filling you with thick, sticky ropes of spend inside you. Twitching and spasming you fall limp between them, unable to move or speak.
“Right, red,” Ghost announces softly, just audible over the ringing in your ears. Price carefully pulls out of you, a whimper slipping from your lips as he does and a shock of sensitivity shooting through you. Ghost does the same but lays still, cradling you against his chest, his wide palm smoothing up and down your skin slowly. “It’s over now, you did well.”
You burrow into him, pushing your sweat streaked face against his neck with I deep exhale, his arms pulling you tightly against him and his deep voice vibrates through his chest and into you as he talks you down. Your heart rate slows down and breathing evens out, floating in a fog inside your own head.
“That was insane,” Kyle says quietly as he crouches beside you, mask removed now, and touches your shoulder. You peer at him hazily through your lashes, a hint of smile on your lips. He puts a backpack down beside you and Ghost and opens it, pulling out bottles of sports drink, a small first aid kit and finally a tightly wrapped blanket which he opens and drops over you gently.
Slowly and carefully Ghost gets you up and gets you to drink, then gets you up. Blinking, you look around and take in your surroundings finally. It’s a small garage, the one you’d seen beside the cabin earlier in the day. Once they’re happy you are okay then clean you up and walk you out of the garage, wrapped in the soft blanket.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Price asks again, for maybe the fifth time, and you smile groggily and nod.
“I’m fine, just a bit shaky,” you tell him again, the pride and bliss burning inside of you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “I want to get into the hot tub, can we?”
“Right now you can have anything you want, hen,” Johnny answers without a thought and trots ahead to get the cover off the tub.
“Absolutely, anything,” Price grins, satisfied with your reply now.
It’s crowded in the hot tub with so many large bodies in it, and you get jostled around as each of them tries to be the one beside you. In the end, you find yourself sitting on someone’s lap, thick thighs and strong arms cradling you against a broad chest in the warm, bubbling water. Your head lolls against his shoulder peacefully but after a moment you blink open your eyes tiredly, the pleasant buzzing of the water massaging your aching limbs.
You look up into Ghost’s unmasked face, and you grin.
“Hi, Ghost,” you say, feeling a little foolish afterwards, but his smile settles your nerves.
“Call me Simon,” he grins back, a scar making it slightly crooked. “You’ve more than earned it now.”
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#club 141 au#poly 141 x reader#captain john price#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#cod mw22#cod mwii#ghost call of duty#sergeant kyle gaz garrick#captain price#captain john price smut#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#captain johnathan price#captain price smut#captain price x female reader#captain price x reader#captain price x you#cod mw ghost#call of duty ghost#cod ghost x reader#ghost call of duty mw2#ghost cod mw2#ghost mwii#ghost simon riley#call of duty soap#john soap mactavish x reader
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🤍 ˎˊ- seventeen with a s/o that’s scared of talking too much
ot13 x gn!reader — no warnings i think
veeeery self-indulgent post i’m ngl :) if you relate to the prompt then hopefully this will provide you with some comfort! <3
— seungcheol
he will insist on knowing who put such nonsense in your mind, because how dare they make you feel self-conscious about one of the things he loves the most about you? he absolutely adores that you passionately ramble about the most random things; it always lifts his mood even after a long and exhausting day. and that’s what he’s here to remind you: that you should never be ashamed of talking if it’s something that makes you happy.
— jeonghan
any kind of negative thoughts on your part becomes his #1 priority so he takes time to discuss it with you and give you enough reassurance. he reminds you that talking a lot is not a bad thing at all, and that you’re also an amazing listener, which he’s very grateful for. “people are just jealous because you’re interesting enough not to run out of conversation!” he tells you, wiping your tears away. it truly breaks his heart to see you so self-conscious so he’ll definitely be extra careful regarding this topic in the future <3
— joshua
no matter where that insecurity comes from, he comforts you with immense patience and lots of cuddles, reminding you of how much your words matter. on a more personal note, he absolutely adores the sound of your voice, it’s one of his favorite things about you. “i’d fall asleep to your voice every night if i could,” he tells you, looking into your teary eyes with a smile, and you just know he’s being 100% honest, “and you should never ever feel bad about wanting to share things with the people you love.”
— jun
it really pains him to hear that’s how you feel because he can only imagine how long you’ve been thinking about it before even telling him. but jun is here to tell you that you always make people feel comfortable, which is something he finds absolutely wonderful about you. he knows it can be hard to overthink about your social skills so he will always make sure to encourage you to speak your mind (whether it’s through a gentle squeeze of the hand or a smile from across the room). and he also showers you with kisses because he knows it’s one of the best remedies for overthinking :]
— hoshi
what? you? talking too much? oh he’s not gonna let that slide. he proceeds to go off on a tangent about your countless qualities (some that aren’t even related to the topic, he just gets carried away), because he will not let you struggle alone with your insecurities, that’s for sure. as often, he wishes he could lend you his eyes to make you understand how perfect you are to him. “and so what if you talk a lot? i do too! it’s who i am, it’s who you are and that’s why we’re a match made in heaven.”
— wonwoo
it feels weird for him to hear that you’re self-conscious about something he really admires you for. according to him, it’s the ease with which you talk that made your first dates not feel awkward. he loves how good you are with words of affirmation, and he also insists on how it inspires him to be more vocal about his own thoughts and feelings. “i don’t think you realize how entertaining you are. but i sure realize how lucky i am to have you,” he tells you in a more lighthearted tone, pressing a kiss against your temple.
— woozi
he insists on the fact that he’s one of the people that spends the most time with you, so you can truly believe him when he tells you that it’s not true. “that’s just because you love me,” you tell him, comfortably snuggled up against his side. “it is,” he replies, “but that goes for everyone around you; the people who love you will accept you for who you are. and if they don’t… screw them”. because woozi may be an absolute sweetheart but he has very low tolerance for the people who mess with his partner’s head.
— dokyeom
first and foremost, he offers to hug the sadness away, which kind of works because he’s a professional when it comes to comfort hugs. he knows it’s normal to have insecurities but he hates seeing you so self-conscious, so he’ll definitely try his best to cheer you up. also, words cannot describe how much he loves talking with you, so he’d really hate it if these bad thoughts ended up changing your personality. most of the time he’s the bubbly one, but he also likes to be fueled by his very own sunshine from time to time.
— mingyu
as a professional yapper, he understands where that insecurity might be coming from, which means he knows exactly how to comfort you. he’s here to remind you of all the times you’ve been a great listener to either him or your friends, and the great pieces of advice that followed. mingyu thinks your inputs are always important, no matter the conversation, and he’s so freaking happy to be sharing his life with someone that can keep up with his own pace! as long as he’s here, you know you’ll always have someone to listen to your every word.
— minghao
he’s scared he might have accidentally made you feel that way while teasing you (lovingly ofc), so he apologizes profusely until you tell him that he has nothing to do with it. “you enjoy sharing your perspective on things and that’s beautiful,” he reassures you, “and you know me, i’d tell you if you were too overbearing… but you’re not. so don’t worry your pretty head, ok?”. and it’s moments like these that truly make you feel grateful for minghao’s wise and comforting words, always carefully chosen to make your worries disappear in a second.
— seungkwan
kind of like cheol, he wants names. because - and he’s saying that with all due respect - they should know they’re just stupid people spreading stupid lies. seungkwan knows you by heart, he knows you’re a selfless person that’s always here to help their loved ones, and he thinks you’re not giving yourself enough credit for that! “you’re absolutely perfect in every way, and i thi- stop. i can see you’re about to argue but i’m not letting you win this one. no way.”
— vernon
he has a really sensitive approach to this issue, knowing how hard it is when you get in your own head. hugs and cuddles are definitely a part of him comforting you, but he also makes you promise something (and you can see from the look in his eyes that he’s very serious). “if you ever start overthinking after any kind of social interaction, private or public, with or without me, please come and talk to me. i’ll try my best to help you get rid of these thoughts, alright?”. because at the end of the day, he wants to be someone you can be fully transparent with, just like he is with you.
— dino
according to him, you shouldn’t even be thinking about how much you talk in a day. instead, he worries that you might be surrounding yourself with people that simply do not appreciate this aspect of your personality. “if you have something to say, go ahead! being yourself should make you happy, and life’s already too complicated to worry about speaking too many words!” he tells you, and you can tell he genuinely wants you to let go of these hurtful thoughts. but he also knows how hard it is, and luckily chan is great at making long-term efforts (especially for your wellbeing), so expect lots and lots of carefulness and support on a daily basis.
rbs and feedback are always appreciated <3
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen comfort#seungcheol x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#dokyeom x reader#mingyu x reader#minghao x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dino x reader
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Could I please request Diasomnia reacting to a long-lost childhood friend? Like they declared they would marry you one day, but you left unexpectedly and without warning. Now they've finally seen you again and all the old emotions come flooding back.
omfg this is such a cute idea!!
cw: spoilers for book 7
Diasomnia meeting their childhood friend again
Malleus:
-As soon as he lays eyes on you again, all of the air leaves his lungs. It's you. Despite everything, it's you. His feet carry him towards you, and you barely have time to register that he's in front of you before you're engulfed in a tight embrace. Malleus murmurs your name over and over, demanding to know why you abandoned him. Do you know how lonely he was without his beloved fiancée? Do you know how often he wished upon all the stars in the sky that you would return to him? And now you're back, in his arms, where you belong.
-You might think think that Malleus has forgotten his old promise to you, but he starts to refer to you as his fiancée as soon as you're reunited. When you try to brush him off, stating that it's silly to hold him to the words he spoke as a small child, Malleus pouts. He still loves you, and he still wants to marry you. And he intends to prove his devotion by putting a ring on your finger.
Lilia:
-Lilia feels like crying when he sees you again. It's been centuries, but he never forgot you. You let out a startled yelp as he suddenly appears behind you, tackling you to the ground. Lilia practically sobs out your name, burying his face against your chest. He thought he'd lost you, just like he'd lost Maleanor and Raverne. But you came back, and he promises to never let you go again. You are both his first love, and his last.
-You're surprised to see that Lilia's more laid-back now than he was when you were children together. But his desire to take care of you hasn't faded at all. Lilia still tries to feed you, and he still acts out to get your attention. And he still refers to you as his betrothed, despite your ages. When you roll your eyes at him, claiming that both of you are far too old for childhood jokes, Lilia wonders if you'll still think his feelings are a joke when he actually proposes to you properly.
Silver:
-He thinks he's dreaming at first. There's no way you're standing in front of him. Before he can think about it, Silver is reaching out and grasping your hand. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your warm fingers, and he tugs you closer, his strong arm circling around your waist. Silver leans down, and he presses his forehead against yours. He sighs out your name, and he pulls back to kiss your hand, still in his grasp. When he looks at you again, you can see his eyes soften, and his lips curve into that old, familiar smile. He spent so long dreaming about you, and now he has the real you in front of him.
-Silver immediately starts treating you the same way he did when you were both children. He shows you the animals he's befriended, letting you pet their soft bodies, and he keeps bringing you food he's made. And when he sleeps, he tries his best to stay close to you. When he wakes up from one of his naps to see you smiling down at him, just like you used to do, Silver feels his heart swell. You accepted his marriage proposal when you were kids. Now Silver is hoping you'll say yes again.
Sebek:
-When Sebek sees you again, he feels oddly conflicted. His feelings for you haven't changed, but he worries that you left because he wasn't good enough for you. Still, he can't resist the desire to be a part of your life again. And so Sebek approaches you, intent on finding out if you remember him. He gets his answer when you hug him tightly, happy to be reunited with your old friend. Sebek's cheeks flush, and he scoops you up, crushing you to his chest as he returns your embrace. He hopes that you won't notice his heart pounding as he buries his face in your hair.
-Sebek hasn't really changed since his childhood. He's still loud, and energetic. He still tries to protect you from anything that moves in your vicinity, and he still puffs out his chest with pride when you praise him. And Sebek still refers to you as his fiancée. When you try to dissuade him from doing that, he gets huffy. He insists that he made a promise to you, and that a knight always keeps their promises. And it doesn't take long for him to make that promise real by presenting you with a ring.
#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#lilia vanrouge#lilia x reader#twst silver#silver x reader#sebek zigvolt#sebek x reader#twisted wonderland#twst reader insert#twst x reader#twst
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Procrastination
relationships: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader
summary: Ratio decides to help you out but only after he lets you know just how disappointed he is.
cw: Fluff, Ratio pining, Tsundere Ratio(?), pre relationship, very self indulgent
a/n: stress writing is real. huh.
wc: ~800
masterlist
A firm hand on your shoulder startles you awake from your nap, and the bright screen of your monitor makes squint. You weren't even aware that you had fallen asleep on your desk. Lifting your head with a groggy look you’re met with a pair of familiar red eyes. Usually, seeing the purple haired doctor in front of you would bring you joy, but at a time like this? He was the last person you wanted to talk to.
He was there the previous week to constantly remind you to get your work done but you kept dismissing him, after all, you had an entire week ahead of you, and other plans as well. Surely a short delay wouldn’t push you back too much, right? Wrong. Despite only having skipped a week's worth of work, you quickly realize just how many small tasks can pile up in just seven days.
"Still working on your proposal?" He asks you, a hint of a condescending tone in his voice.
"I'm almost done." You sighed, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. Your hands dutifully find their back to your keyboard as you reread your last few sentences to get the gist of the writing.
"This is precisely why I discourage procrastination. Delaying your work will only lead to a tighter schedule in the future." His disapproving words pierce you but do no damage, you were used to this, unfortunately.
“I know…” You grumbled. Sometimes you wonder if he enjoyed talking down to you, it really seemed like he’d always magically appear out of thin air whenever you started slacking off just to offer you a lecture. "I didn't even delay it for that long though, just a week..." It was embarrassing to admit how many similar scenarios had played out in the past with the two of you, but no matter how many times he’d reprimand you for stalling you always ended up doing it again. For a brief moment you wonder what it would be like to live in the stone ages where you wouldn’t need to worry about writing another official document ever again…
"A week too long if you ask me." He shakes his head in disapproval. "Show me what you’ve done so far." Leaning over your shoulder he scans your screen. It doesn’t take him long to read through everything, though you wondered why he needed to anyway. Somehow the last few days you noticed how the doctor seemed to hover around you a lot more often, and now he’s involving himself in your job too. Perhaps it meant something but in your current sleep deprived state you didn’t have the energy to think too deeply about the implications.
"Mmm good, you've written down the main points for the remaining sections at the very least, and surprisingly you are almost done.” You scoff at his surprised tone, admittedly a little offended. Sure you may not always get things done on time but you valued quality a lot. Ratio just rolls his eyes at your little fit.
“See? Not too bad right? Now will you leave me alone?” You say as you turn the monitor back to face you. Just a few more hours and you’ll be free to sleep.
“Hmph, this is the bare minimum and yet you’re proud of it?” He chides. That’s one thing you really disliked him. At times you’d find yourself flustered in his presence at his caring nature, but other times you really did find him infuriating. This situation is the latter it seems. You wish he’d really just leave you to your own devices already.
“Sleep, I’ll finish up the rest.” Your fingers pause. Huh? Did you hear that right? No, he must’ve said something else. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to match your style of writing.” Turns out you weren’t just hearing things. The Dr.Ratio was offering to do your proposal for you. But you couldn’t just let him. As much as you trusted him with your proposal, this was still your mess and it didn't feel right letting someone else deal with it.
“That’s not- I mean, this is my job Ratio, I can't just-”
“Get up and go before I change my mind.”
“Ratio…” You almost felt like crying. The look you give him could fool anyone into thinking you were under the gaze of an Aeon. “Oh thank you so much, I could kiss you right now. I’ll definitely repay you, I promise.” Immediately you get up and start packing your things as the doctor takes your seat. You briefly wonder why he suddenly decided to help you after all the snide remarks but you decide not to dwell on it too much.
“Just…go.” He turns away from you, a light dust of pink on his cheeks at your remark. It’s a shame you miss it in your hurry to head to bed. Not only do you not offer him a proper goodbye but you also leave the door open on your way out.
“Idiot.” He sighs.
Perhaps one day he'll get to say 'My idiot' instead.
masterlist
© c00kieguy ➼ do not repost/copy/translate (without my permission) or claim any of my works as your own. Reblogs are appreciated ❣
#honkai star rail#hsr dr ratio#ratio x reader#ratio x you#ratio x y/n#hsr x reader#x reader#reader insert#hsr ratio#hsr veritas#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x gn reader#honkai ratio#hsr fluff#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail x reader#c00kie.writes
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my head is empty
i swear to god this man HAS to stop because i'm going fucking insane over how good he looks. he's out of this world, really
imagine SUGAR DADDY!SUNGHOON who's spoiling you all the time. he's rich and successful, and he wants to spend all his money on you only because he can.
every night when he comes home and you welcome him by kissing his cheek and asking him how his day went, he's overwhelmed with the need to worship every little part of you and your body. he lets you serve him dinner and eat with him, but after that, the rest of the night is all about you and what you want. sunghoon is kissing and marking your skin, giving you everything you need and more, giving you his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
"you're perfect for me doll, such a good girl."
and the fact that you're existing and that you're his is enough for sunghoon to buy you gifts, often very expensive because his girl deserves only the best. and don't ever think about paying anything on your own - his card and bank account are yours and you can have anything you want as long as you pay with his money. sunghoon wants you to know that you can have whatever you've ever wanted and that he will make every one of your dreams come true. and knowing that you're wearing things that he payed for is enough for him.
"i did some shopping today hoonie ! you wanna see ?" - "always pretty girl, show me what you got."
he will 100% buy you lingerie sets, asking you to try all of them on and then picking out the one he likes the most to fuck you in it. and if he rips it off, his only answer is : "don't worry about it, i'll buy you another one. just let me ruin your pretty cunt, doll." and sunghoon also loves to dress you up, picking out the most expensive dresses and outfits for you and matching with them so when you go out you look all dolled up for him. and then after your night out, he fucks you in his sport car, not caring about the price of the leather of the seats he's making you squirt into. and it's even better if you're only wearing the jewellery he bought for you by the end of it.
"who do you belong to, doll ?" - "you, hoon, i'm only yours."
#sugar daddy!hoon on top#eli answering your questions#eli's moots#dinna's asks#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#sunghoon hard hours#sunghoon hard thoughts
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Always the Quiet Ones*
*this is a revamped reupload of my previous fic
✽ summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that.
✽ content: ~12.5k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, college au, one shot, mutual pining, smut, fluff, casual sex, praise, light spanking, explicit consent, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+
✽ a/n: i just really missed this fic </3
It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.
You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. He didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, your words were always brief, pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more often than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod when he’d take his assigned seat beside you.
The class was awful enough, with two-hour labs being the worst part of Eren’s week because he spent them in a fumbling and awkward silence. But if you wouldn’t bother to glance up from your book when you talked to him, then he would treat you the same. He brought the bare minimum to conversations. He gave one-word answers; a specific grunt for yes, another for no, each you had to learn.
He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of better words, like that. Quiet. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories on the matter—only because lectures were just that boring. His most probable theory was that you were shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?
Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you really liked anatomy. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But other times, it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.
Then there were the days—usually when Eren felt particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.
Eren’s theories could go on and on, but they all skirted the truth. At least, you didn’t think yourself a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved demeanor was much more straightforward than that.
You had a stupid crush on Eren.
A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger middle school crush. That made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at once, and had you gushing to your roommate despite knowing you’d never act on it.
It’d been like this since last semester, though you weren’t even sure Eren knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.
God. Thinking about it now still riddled you with anxiety. You swore up and down that you were going to die that day. Like actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.
In another universe, perhaps this forced proximity would have excited you. Maybe he would have given you his phone number to text about homework, and in that universe, you would have been giddy over it.
Unfortunately for you, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.
You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you to where you wouldn’t dare ask him a question. What if you sounded dumb? So you’d press on without having him repeat himself and only scribble down what little you could manage.
It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still didn’t change a thing because it was much easier to pretend Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you’d started seeing your grade slip.
You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret, but there was one day he got a bit too nosy for your liking.
Professor Hange handed your lab report back, face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but sometimes the rule felt targeted at you.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.
For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject.
But what he saw surprised him, especially when thought about his grade in the class. It slipped out on a chuckle when he said, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”
You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”
You couldn’t tell if Eren was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across as lighthearted as he had hoped. He often let his thoughts carelessly spill into words, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you could think was shit, because he had finally figured out that you had no idea what you were doing.
Admittedly, Eren felt a little guilty once he saw the panic wash over your face. He cracked a smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows furrowed in pity, like he couldn’t hold it back.
“The lab,” Eren clarified. He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing up that badly?”
What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Pity brows or not, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.
You didn’t reply, just stared past him blankly as you imagined how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night. You only snapped from it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a bit too loudly for you to consider natural—then started putting his belongings into his backpack.
“Look,” Eren began. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut. His eyes made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”
His voice was flat, and you didn’t like his delivery much, but beneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He attributed it to his guilt for speaking so thoughtlessly. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic that he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. More than that, he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction from him.
“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.
You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it, too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.
“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”
“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to become one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.
“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time, big enough to make your stomach flip. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”
So that was where everything began. And by ‘everything,’ you meant how you and Eren would study together occasionally. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.
It took two study dates (your term for them) before you didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous, more nervous than you felt around him in class. And like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.
It was shameful to admit, but you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. The times when he was jotting down notes because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when truly stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that, too.
By the time midterms had come and gone, you started seeing Eren more and more, meeting outside of class twice a week—a third if you had a report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you were around him, otherwise it was bound to give out.
What you wanted to call study dates quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons. And just to be clear, you were not the tutor. But after Eren had you convinced his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.
It was nice to not have to think so hard around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ “It was one time,” he’d always complain back to you.
After getting scolded one too many times in the library for goofing off, other spots around campus had to make do. Then that turned into you going to Eren’s place, just a five-minute walk from your lab building.
Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.
Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d confess this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.
Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. He knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren. When Armin was bored, he’d join you on the couch and answer the questions Eren couldn’t.
He couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it had never been a problem before, but now it irked him ceaselessly. Instead of trying to sort it out, he decided going to your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable.
It was near final exam week when it hit you, a smack-across-the-face reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.
You were friendly, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the peers sitting around you. One girl, Mina, told you she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final. She insisted you and Eren should join.
You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your stomach churned when Eren answered for you.
“She needs all the help she can get,” he said, giving you a playful pay on the shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.
You got over it quickly. It was difficult to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.
But when Eren began texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you weren’t afraid to say you noticed a sting. It felt like you’d let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.
You left the exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying any attention as Mina caught up to you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday night, that some of your classmates would be there to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You thought little about it when you said yes.
You were at the get-together for an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. After your second beer, you felt just adventurous enough to play.
Mina’s living room was on the smaller side for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could, whether it was on the sofa or the floor, and in the center was an old beer. It’d warmed from sitting out for a few hours, according to Samuel, and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough for that.
You would, of course. But you didn’t know it then.
You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.
“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.
A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You let your forehead drop to your knees in defeat. Everyone started laughing, hounding you to drink the beer when you whined, “Do I have to?”
If you weren’t busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went, and your audience wasn’t too busy heckling you, maybe someone would have noticed how Eren went quiet, how a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.
He couldn’t articulate the feeling, but it reminded him of the one he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. Some strange burning, uncomfortably deep in his stomach. It made him not want to look at you any longer.
Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though you surprised him, he had to admit, but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more off—specifically the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.
Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled; giggles spilled from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. Eren had heard you laugh—many times, actually—but something about it always made his chest go tight.
His thoughts ventured further, wandering, wondering if you crinkle your nose the same way when you come.
He could see you beneath him, naked. Brows pinched together cutely, teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he slipped between—
It was so wrong of him. To be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there. The only two people to exist.
That swarming in his gut burned hotter. He took another sip of his beer like it would dull it.
There was a moment of doubt. Almost like a hangnail, he could pick and pick at it until he created a wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that made you uninterested?
He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.
He felt fucking pathetic for it.
Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy, and by some miracle, you passed the class.
It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.
You didn’t expect to see him this soon—actually, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue holding you together. You wished you could say you had more faith in the friendship, in him, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would have at least been curious to know how you did in the class.
It was probably better this way, you told yourself, considering you nearly failed the class because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have needed to worry about failing if he wasn’t your lab partner.
All that for a silly crush.
You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, the time when parties turn spacey and liminal; the limbo dividing night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up a while ago. Everything was a not-so-subtle sign pointing toward the exit.
Believe it or not, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-proclaimed ditzy roommate had disappeared.
By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk past your limit. You were dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you walked in on a lot of dry humping.
The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy you guessed to be the reason she wanted to come to the party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.
You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne, to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past Eren. He’d only grabbed your attention once you heard your name, disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.
You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a few steps to straighten back out, but once you did, your vision settled on Eren.
He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”
You offered a chuckle that was only half-forced, the other half genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after they’d spent the night drinking.
And because you’d spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. You weren’t upset with him—maybe disappointed. Not disappointed in him exactly, he never owed you his kindness, but disappointed by what could have been.
But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with each passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should’ve skipped that last drink. You’d hoped to feel more like yourself the next time you saw Eren. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up in him again; you weren’t sure you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.
Eren took a willing pace toward you. Your gaze was boozy, eyes hazy and distant. He recognized the look and had a feeling you wouldn’t speak first, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”
“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause. You weren’t sure if he remembered he’d met her. “My roommate.”
“I know.”
“We were supposed to leave to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”
Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”
“And in the meantime?”
“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to play it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”
He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. Okay, twice. He teased you about it, saying you got drool everywhere.
“That’s different,” you said sheepishly. “That was an accident.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.
“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”
Eren liked his simple flashcards. He actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time color-coding and highlighting their flashcards than studying them.
He tilted his head with the sort of look that said, stop being so stubborn. "Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave, anyway.”
He took a step backward, daring you to follow, and then another, until he turned on one foot and headed for the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did, trailing right behind.
You called out to him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”
“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder, ready to catch the expression you’d make when he said, “Figured you had to retake the class.”
You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he had already crossed the lawn. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.
“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.
“Anytime.”
It didn’t take long for you to near campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. It made it impossible to tell the time, what with every club still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, its beat perfectly in tempo with your every step—those of which were still struggling to match Eren’s.
“Did you still want to get food?” he asked.
“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling, your feet dragging against the sidewalk. They’d started hurting hours ago, and this jaunt certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you received over the holidays.
“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”
“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I’m not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”
“A C-plus or a C-minus?”
“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.
“I’ll alert the media,” Eren replied. You stuck your tongue out at him, though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”
“I didn’t think it was still an option.”
“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you from over his shoulder, just in time to watch you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat.”
Eren rounded the next corner, a block short of the street he lived on, and led you a few doors down to a diner, breakfast served 24 hours. You expected to flag down a street vendor over sitting down to eat, but you couldn’t complain about some drunk pancakes.
Eren chose the booth in the back after the hostess instructed you to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelled of stale coffee—just as any diner would at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you’d need to down a mug or two if you wanted to sober up.
The server flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out like it did in the movies, but you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.
You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, hands folded around his mug.
“Something the matter?” you asked.
“Want any coffee with your sugar?”
“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you expected.
Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat.
The server took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. This time, when you added another packet of sugar, Eren kept his comments to himself. There was a lapse in conversation, one you spent fiddling with the paper scraps.
“You know,” he started. You peered up from the wad you’d rolled between your thumb and forefinger. He sat back in the booth, looking out the window with a quiet sort of chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”
You matched the laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”
As if he were thinking aloud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”
“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”
Eren’s eyes flashed from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”
It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze felt smothering. You avoided him, your attention retreating down to the spoon you twirled anxiously around your mug. The clanging of ceramic was the only sound between you because you still hadn’t responded.
“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”
A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He’d only ordered a coffee, even after you insisted on paying as a thank-you for tonight, so once the server left, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.
“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not all that shy either,” he told you like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised brow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”
Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You saw me dancing?”
He played it off with, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”
“If you saw me earlier,” you said, forking a slice of pancake, “why didn’t you come and say hi?”
Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t hide his shifty eyes, or how long it took him to excuse it away. “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”
That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was he didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. The party turned out to be the ultimate test of willpower, which he so evidently failed.
Eren even went as far as reinstalling all the dating apps he’d long sworn off. He dumbly assumed if he went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he’d be in the clear; he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren knew there wasn’t any use in taking things further. He’d spent the evening comparing her to you, finding himself every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.
Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he met in class.
And when Eren heard your laugh—strangely more remarkable than any other, like he’d gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.
But here you were, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no clue what he was supposed to do next. He’d spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.
Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, not yet, because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him back?
Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outright confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to cover his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.
You held your fork before your face, inspecting the square of pancake as a string of syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.”
“Huh?”
You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so slowly that it nearly killed Eren. Once you swallowed, you finally said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”
Eren said nothing in return, even with you staring him straight in the face, expectant. You waited—for what felt like an eternity but was more like a second—until you couldn’t take the ambivalence any longer.
Your half-laugh fell flat as you went on to explain, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”
Almost as if he didn’t hear it, still fixed on what you’d said before, he asked, “Do you still?”
It was a simple question, just three words, yet he said so much more than intended.
You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb. “Still what?”
“Have a crush on me.”
You thought it over while you took another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you for another moment. You weren’t entirely ready to lay your cards on the table. Yet.
You tossed him a small smile as you answered, “To be determined.”
Eren nodded once, lips folded together in a similar sort of grin. “Got it.”
That didn’t mean your answer satisfied him, though. He watched as you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another sugar packet. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug.
“But you better figure it out before all that sugar kills you.”
You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me, not the keg stand I started the night with.”
“You did a keg stand?”
He said it like he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”
Eren laughed with you despite shaking his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”
You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. The pain intensified with every step, and you sucked your teeth sharply. You noticed two fresh blisters, one on each heel, when you put your shoes back on before leaving, but thought you could handle the short walk to Eren’s house. But now, you wished you were still drunk enough to ignore the burn.
“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.
You were behind him again, but not because of his long strides. “Yeah.”
He thought it sounded unconvincing. He looked back to confirm his hunch just in time to see you stumble.
“It’s my shoes,” you said. “I’m sorry.”
He stopped walking, turning to you. “Why are you apologizing?”
You stammered, “I don’t know.”
“Just take ‘em off.”
“I’m not going to walk around barefoot.”
“Didn’t say you had to.”
You didn’t get what he was saying, even less when he turned his back to you. Then, when he bent slightly at the knee, it made sense.
He couldn’t be serious right now.
“My house isn’t that far. I’ll carry you there.”
Okay. He was being serious. He was ready and willing to give you a piggyback ride.
You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.
Eren took it differently, shooting you a playfully offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
“Wait!”
You wanted to blame it on your feet or because you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—aching feet or not, were you really going to pass on this opportunity?
Eren flashed a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”
Ignoring his boasting, you ripped off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, and then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you would expect, and his arms felt sturdy as they looped around your thighs.
You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember them feeling anything like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms, exceptionally so in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter, having you convinced they’d sear themselves into the backs of your thighs.
He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”
You hugged him, pressing your chest against his back. You’d never been this close to him before, close enough that his hair, only loosely tied back, brushed against your face. Faint notes of his cologne—warm like amber, but there was something you found refreshing about it—tickled your nose. You drew in closer, inhaling the scent, him.
Eren worried you might have felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as innocent as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. As if suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.
If this was all he’d have of you tonight, or ever, he’d be happy with just that. Even if it meant he’d wake up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your heart, even if he wasn’t so sure your crush had ever gone away.
The house was too dark for you to make out a thing. You stilled in the entryway, just behind Eren, and waited for him to walk ahead.
Not a second later, he flipped a light on from the kitchen. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and he appeared again from around the corner. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a lost puppy he’d taken in and didn’t know what to do with.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Sure,” you replied. “Thank you.”
He waved a hand toward the sofa, saying, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing again.
You’d hardly made yourself comfortable by the time he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them to reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.
He sat on the other side of the old couch and it squeaked beneath his weight.
“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he started, settling into the couch. “Take my room, if you want. I can sleep out here.”
You almost choked on your water, immediately shaking your head. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You’d never even been in his room before. “You didn’t even need to go to the trouble of letting me stay the night.”
“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, “you staying the night is the least of them.”
You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at his heart. It was shy, no greater than a curl of the very corner of your mouth, yet he craved nothing more than to feel the shape of it under his lips and memorize the taste.
“Okay.” You finally gave in. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but you nervously rambled on, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”
“I don’t want you to go.”
You stammered, opening and closing your mouth as you pretended you had any clue what you’d say next. Something changed; you didn’t know what. An energy shift, a new glint in his eyes—that look he was giving you.
Maybe it was more accurate to say that everything had changed.
There wasn’t much air to your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go either.”
Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed some vulnerable part of you. He couldn’t look away, risking losing what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.
You liked him like that—getting to witness such an unguarded look on a face that was always hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, only in your dreams, and you didn’t want it to end.
Now or never.
“Eren?”
“Yeah?” His voice was just as taken as yours.
You knew yourself as anything but bold, but right then, you were. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”
The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed.
“Am I?” Eren asked. His voice had gained a new rasp.
You nodded.
“How so?”
“You know,” you said slowly, knowingly, leaning into him. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You tucked your legs beneath you, sitting back on your calves, knees bumping up against his thigh. “You let me spend the night, even offer me your bed.”
Eren thought you might kiss him right then, but you only giggled. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”
You rested a daring hand on his leg. He looked from it to you before teasing, “I think I might’ve complained once.”
He moved with you, at your pace. He cupped your cheek, and you tried not to melt into him.
“But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud of yourself for passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grins. “And when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do.”
You didn’t press the subject any further because it didn’t matter; you were so close that the tips of your noses were nearly brushing against each other. With your face still in his hand, he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. Unwittingly, you wetted them like you wanted a taste.
Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you spent a semester building together, so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.
You might have been feeling courageous, but you knew you’d regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see it now, the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably bump into him again. He’d turn you into a puddle right on the spot.
That didn’t concern you. Not after you heard the needful groan he stifled from the very back of his throat, and you desperately wanted to hear it again.
Eren caressed your face. You tilted into him until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips.
“I still have a crush on you,” you whispered.
“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t cocky about it, but soft. He sounded relieved.
Your hand left his thigh, traveling higher until you had it splayed against his chest. The muscles twitched beneath your touch. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him, how insane you’d driven him. You had to.
“So,” you said, long and drawn-out.
Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, the tips of them grazing and pinching like you wanted to yank him to you.
“Are you going to do something about it?”
Spoken like a true temptress, like a lioness playing with her food. You let your gaze linger intentionally long before locking onto his eyes.
Eren nearly gulped. “Fuck—c’mere.”
The hand he had on your face slipped higher. His fingers wrapped around the back of your head to pull you to him.
What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you softly, thoughtfully, like he knew he had all the time in the world with you now.
Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, hot and licking against your own. Your head spun, but not because of the alcohol. Attempting to ground yourself, you snatched a fistful of his shirt with a trembling hand. But the longer he made out with you, taking his time with seemingly no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.
“Eren.” It left you in a gasp, swallowed up before it had the chance to meet the air.
He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Then you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear, gasping as his teeth skimmed lower.
“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Like he was oblivious to how turned on you were, how just his breath against your skin had your thighs clenching.
“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” Your voice warbled as you spoke, eyes fluttering shut as he began mouthing along your neck, sucking like he wanted to leave a bruise.
You palmed lower, over the front of his jeans. He was hard, straining against them, and you massaged over his length a few times. You waited and listened for his breath to falter before reaching for his zipper.
“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans undone, you snuck your hand inside his boxer, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You nuzzled your face just below his jaw, peppering kisses, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you were hoping this would happen.”
“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already staving off his urge to rut into your hand.
“I was, too,” you confessed.
That broke him. Before he knew it, he had you pinned between him and the couch.
Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than before. When Eren kissed you this time, he didn’t want to take his time with you anymore. Not after hearing that you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.
The couch quickly became too cramped for your liking, with limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall to the floor. Only when your kiss broke—because your head was dangling over the edge of the sofa—did you have a moment to catch your breath, or at least try to.
“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room.” Eren nodded, eyes hazy as he looked down at you. “Maybe you should show me to it now…”
He stalled, his brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason before he picked up on your heavy-handed implication.
“Yeah, okay.”
Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.
Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.
His hands were reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. Yet his touch maintained a certain firmness that had you weak in the knees, struggling to suppress your whimpers. Each tiny sound seemed to encourage him, riling him until he had you braced against the door, slamming it shut with your combined weight.
Eren caged you in place, with forearms planted on either side of your head. But you would have stayed there, willingly. Forever, if you could.
You almost hated yourself for how submissive you felt to him. He kissed you commandingly, yet gently enough that he could take you anywhere he pleased.
You hated yourself more for getting turned on at just the thought.
Taking his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers, you tugged him close, hooking a leg around his waist. You felt his cock pressing between your legs, ground against it because if you didn’t, you thought you might explode; you were only human, after all.
Eren’s hands gripped your ass, helping you roll against him a few times before mumbling, “Bed?”
His voice was shallow, all breathless, like his lungs were running on empty. You liked this version of him—when he was needy for you.
“Bed,” you affirmed with a bob of your head.
That was all it took before Eren scooped you into his arms, whirling you around until he had you collapsed onto the bed.
You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so good to lie amongst the billowy comforter, off your feet. You nestled around, almost like you could have lulled off right then—almost.
Eren turned on his bedside lamp, and though the light was dim, you felt keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body, revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy, Eren couldn’t get enough.
His hands closed over yours when you reached for the button of your jeans as if to tell you, let me do it. You allowed it, watching as he opened the front of them. His fingers glided along your stomach until he reached your hips. From there, he pulled the fitted denim down your legs. You kicked them to the side once they’d reached your ankles.
The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.
His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you closed your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started just beneath the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. At your hip, his touch tickled, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.
Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey, leaving him quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was practically inaudible, just a huff through his nose.
Despite the fog, Eren had a fleeting moment of lucidity. He blinked, hard, like it would clear his head. You struggled to read him, staring at you like you’d given him reason to be suspicious.
Then he asked, “How are you?”
You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?”
His face scrunched like he was about to say, not good. It made you nervous.
You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting on him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.
“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead like he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was hard, especially with you laid out before him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?
Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”
You were relieved to learn nothing was wrong. You thought over your answer, taking inventory of your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.
“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”
He still looked hesitant. You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before smiling at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”
Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. With your assurance, his fingers began dancing along your skin again, pulling lightly at the band of your underwear. He played with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay for me to touch you here?”
His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing between your ears. You couldn’t help the sound it pulled from you. A sweet little moan, so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even remove your underwear.
“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed beneath your panties despite your hope that he’d simply take them off.
That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead. He crawled over you, holding himself up with his free hand. Propped on your elbows, your face was inches away from his. So close that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again.
Eren’s fingers ventured lower, sweeping between you teasingly, but it was as if he was teasing himself.
"You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit until your jaw went slack, then remove the pressure just to trace your entrance. “All for me?”
“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing languidly. When you lifted your hips for more, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out.
Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck until he found the spot he’d learned you liked best, especially when he sucked on it. He yanked a sharp whine from you, another as he continued leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.
Eren, Eren, Eren. You were consumed by thoughts of him, only him. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.
And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until tonight.
That did it for him. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, and tore them off with ease. Once they were out of his way, lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.
He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right to have your back arching, your breath already hitching in your throat.
You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you, quite literally, bending to his will. But he’d already lost himself in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps, spilling from kiss-swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had limply started falling down your shoulder, exposing the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked, taking his finger.
His pace ignited that familiar feeling within you, but as quickly as it started burning in your stomach, you’d lost it just as fast.
With a frustrated sob, you opened your eyes to see why he’d rudely edged you like that.
Eren yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “I wanna go down on you.”
You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the tent in his boxers, large and threatening to undo you, was most certainly it.
You tried your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”
That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.
“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed circles against your inner thigh encouragingly, making it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked his usual devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”
The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to quip something back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, encasing you in his warmth. You felt his lips, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.
He sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled straight to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he tugged down the cups of your bra. Though his breath was warm, it sent goosebumps scattering across your chest. His tongue flicked over one of your perked nipples, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took it into his mouth.
You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to discover every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked.
He continued kissing down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed them over his shoulders, bringing you in until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.
Eren palmed over your thighs. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.
“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”
You’d lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod in response—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to smirk but was smart enough not to risk it this time.
You’d felt only his breath at first. It quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the very tip of his tongue. Pointed, it ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for you to suck in a breath between your teeth.
“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. It must have pleased him because you swore you felt him grin against you as he praised, “Good girl.”
You made an embarrassing sound at that. One you didn’t expect. Eren surely didn’t expect it either, but it excited him, knowing how you were weak to his words, to his voice. To him.
With you now fully on display for him, he couldn’t resist burying his face into you, even if he had fully intended to tease you longer. His tongue flicked your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.
You shifted your hips, raising them to meet his mouth. His tongue was steady, never slowing once as he leaned into a rhythm you liked, that had your fingers laced in his hair and undoing his bun. With just a little more, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you suddenly saw sparks of white behind your eyelids.
“Eren—ah,” you panted frantically, “right there.”
He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, lapping in tandem with your rocking hips until your thighs began shaking.
“I got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your legs and locking you into place. “Just relax for me.”
Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. It was as if he was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.
“I-I’m—”
His eyes meet yours. You looked breathless, your mouth hanging open in a vain attempt at pulling in tattered breaths. When he let go of your thighs, they dropped to his shoulders.
Not breaking his pace, his thumb replaced his tongue so he could ask, “You need more?”
You swallowed hard and nodded.
“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit. You mourned the loss only for him to trace a finger down your entrance before dipping it inside you.
“Oh, fuck.” You writhed in response. “Yes.”
He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pushing them inside you. There was little resistance as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He returned to tonguing your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.
You were getting close, so close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone.
There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.
There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.
Eren’s face flushed a blossomy pink, spanning across his cheeks. You were so wet; he was so wet. Soaked, actually, in your arousal—a mess you might have cared more about if you weren’t about to come.
His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours, and he moaned. He felt pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, seeking any semblance of relief because you were possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew you’d look even better coming on his tongue.
You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even fake it, too curious to see exactly how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his sensitive tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.
Your cries came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and using him. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were quivering, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.
Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back onto his calves, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other soothed your clit, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply spread for him, just like he hoped.
God, he annoyed himself for pretending he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.
The only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.
“Eren?”
He loved it when you said his name.
You sat up to look at him properly, but it felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted at the intrusion, still sensitive; he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.
The feeling mesmerized him: you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “Hm?”
You would’ve thought knowing his eyes were on you would embarrass you, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling had already returned. It coiled in your stomach, begging to be snapped again.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Eren loved hearing that even more.
He finally looked at you then, and you imagined that if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.
“What was that?” he asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, not with the grin he wore to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”
“You heard me the first time.”
He ran his finger teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”
It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”
“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”
“Just—” You sighed dramatically before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”
He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He grabbed his boxers, still sitting mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Eren stood up and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing its clasp. When you pushed yourself to your forearms, you felt your bra fall, its straps hanging loosely around your arms.
“You look so pretty like this,” he told you as he grabbed your hips, raising you to your knees. He stroked himself a few more times with one hand and smacked your ass with the other.
“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”
“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another smack.
The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see him tearing open a condom. He rolled it over his cock, and all the while, his eyes kept you—naked and with your ass in the air for him—pinned to the bed.
He flattened a hand against your lower back, putting an arch in it. With the other, he spread you, aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance.
Eren guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whine as you adjusted to his length. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.
When his pelvis was flush against you, he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A groan bubbled in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, so you clenched again to encourage another.
“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed.
“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.
Despite the warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started moving, thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well your cunt looked with his cock in it.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”
“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.
His hands, large and demanding, curved over your hips. The blunt end of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent smacking of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time, only let your head drop between your shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.
“Eren,” you cried again.
He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?”
He folded over you, his hand snaking up to your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned your face to look at him, so he could see what you wanted. You couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled as he squished your cheeks.
“Tell me how you want it.”
His words alone made you bite back a moan.
Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”
Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy. You would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting if you could have seen it. But how else was he to react?
He placed a kiss on the back of your neck, then another on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his fingers curve around your throat. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright, with your back sealed against his chest.
Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.
He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.
But you were so much more than that, and Eren was determined to make you come again. He wanted to feel it.
“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”
Your hand slithered between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs wavering at the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no doubt he heard you this time around.
It was difficult to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold, landing on the bed forcefully with him toppling right over you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you into the mattress, and it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.
“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.
It surprised you when he pulled out, but it didn’t take long before you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Eren manhandled you like you were weightless; he had your arms tossed above your head, pinned in place with a single hand around your wrist. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“I need to see you.”
Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. And maybe you were merely lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked as though he were just as ensnared as you.
Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another, but you didn’t care; you enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.
You wanted to touch him, wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists. You took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.
“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.
Easy enough.
He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut, to record every sound. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against you as if he could reach any deeper.
His breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold him for a little longer.
Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, like he wanted one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.
You laid still, only watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only let your eyes follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.
"The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you lightly sassed.
“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
You giggled as you pushed yourself up. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” He took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time. It was one of his T-shirts. “You can wear that.”
You held it by the sleeves, inspecting it. “Is that weird?”
“It wasn’t until you asked that.”
You pulled the tee over your head before adjusting it. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant about the jeans.
Eren noticed, assuring you, “They’re sleeping, I promise,” as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”
“Okay.” You left, but poked your head back in to say, “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”
He laughed. “All right.”
You followed his instructions, even trying to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.
Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C-plus, not getting lost.”
You pulled a face. “Whatever, Brian.”
Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.” You mouthed it along with him.
For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren as you waited for something. You didn’t know what. He looked sleepy, with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this like it was normal?
When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”
That was exactly what you were about to do. He chuckled, knowing he was right by the purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”
Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You got into his bed with no contest and let him lay the comforter over you.
Either his pillows were just that soft or you felt that exhausted because your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, but let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist, not hesitating to pull you into him.
He nuzzled into the back of your neck, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”
Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again.He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you a shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.
#eren x reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren smut#eren fluff#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader
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It might be a few years until we get to the ending of dunmeshi in the anime but 🥲 I think about it often than Laios' ending is kind of bittersweet. Never full, never able to see monsters in person, having to be a King when thats never been something he's strived for or wanted... I feel a bit sad for him, and Its beyond the story but I wonder if he ever gains peace with all those consequences. Of course he has duties now as a king, but I wonder if theres some depression there given his hunger and lack of monsters. He has his friends at least who've grown to really care about him 🙏
It is bittersweet but I think that bitter sweetness makes the ending great, Dungeon Meshi has a very ideal happy ending that could almost come of as a little "deux ex machina" with everything being resolved, nobody dying and a bright future in front of them.
But in the end SOMEONE had to make a sacrifice to save them, and that someone was Laios, at first it seems like a comic relief moment for the comedy monster eating story that his greatest wish was to be near monsters, but the more you think about it the sadder it is. So there was something to be paid for the happiness of the other characters and I think Laios is great for having sacrificed his desire for his friends.
I'm not sure if you've read the Kensuke Monster Tidbits but I think that one pretty much tells us how Laios is coping with his new situation
In this he comes to therms with his reality, even if it's sad he must leave behind what he truly desired/loved, it was a risk he took to save humanity and he was willing to pay for it.
And he did find something new to dedicate himself to! Something he could still do in his current situation!
In the end, for as sad as it is, I don't think he regrets his sacrifice
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What traits would Todo look for in a guy? Either as a relationship partner or as a fuckbuddy.
Ꮺ ⋮ ıllı 🍊 𓂂 Todo HC’s ⸝⸝
Notes ~ I’ve never really thought about Todo that often but yeah! Got you>_<!
MENTIONS — Male!Reader, SFW and NSFW vers, oral sex, lazy sex, rough sex, etc.
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SFW
— I think in a man todo would look for loyal self-respectful guy, with the same morals as him.
— probably a guy who cares deeply for others and has a strong passion for something he wants to achieve in or something he’s into.
— most likely a strong spirited guy who doesn’t give up so easily too.
— in looks he’d probably look for a tall guy with a pretty face, I feel like he wouldn’t care for the weight much. As long as it was a tall guy who looked nice and took care of himself he’d be happy.
— I feel like todo would like a guy with long hair too, idk why..I just feel like he would def prefer long hair.
— todo would probably like an outgoing guy with a lot of energy to match his personality and his style of doing things.
— for dates he’s not picky at all, he’d probably take you out just to spend quality time with you to just bond with you so the both of y’all’s connections get stronger.
— he’d probably like a unique guy who was different from him but in a good way, sharing the same morals and being strong willed but doing things differently in an interesting way.
— todo would probably like a guy who likes psychical touch/love, he’d hold you, hug you, gently caress your body, gently kiss you all of your face and probably on your neck!! If you guys ever spent a night together he’d probably fall asleep holding you or he’d be in hopes of you falling asleep on him so he can play with your hair and trace your pretty features as you’re in a peaceful state.
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NSFW
— in a fuck partner Todo would probably look for someone who is able to take his cock, he’s a pretty big guy and so is his dick.
— probably a vocal guy too, that screams and moans out his name while he’s fucking you.
— he’d also probably want someone skilled with their mouth and tongue, both for the use of kissing and sucking his cock.
— I feel like he’d want a bold guy who can kinda do both while being topped, he could be fucking you aggressively and you’d still be in control of him.
— as stated before probably a guy with long hair so that he could pull on it or keep you in place.
— Todo prob into lazy sex too, of course it depends on how he’s feeling it might turn much more than lazy sex.
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#todo aoi#todo jjk#jjk headcanons#jjk x male reader#todo x male reader#male!reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#x reader#gay#smut#gay smut#x male y/n#x male reader#male reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader
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Hello~ I don't know if someone has already ask this but I'll just ask anyway. What made you so interested in Jade? I'm not saying it's a bad thing or anything of the sort. I'm just very intrigued.
Also to feed into your J-word brain rot I present to you this, but picture Jade. Lol I saved this photo as hot damn Sebastain.
Hello, hello!! ^^ I’ve made a post before that explains my interest in Jade, but if I’m being entirely honest 💦 it’s all over the place and difficult to read because of how often I go all caps and keyboard smashing. I’ll try to summarize my thoughts here in a way that’s more digestible and calm.
I love many of the little details about his face: the shape of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, how his brows are arched, etc. I also have a visceral, near animalistic urge to tug on that black bit of hair he has sprouting out...
His manner of dress also resonates with me! Jade is usually well covered and in formal attire, and I think that makes it more exciting on the instances when he dresses down (whether that be going without his gloves or choosing something more casual to wear).
His intelligence. I've always preferred characters who rely on their smarts over their strength to achieve their goals, and Jade fits the bill. One particular example is how his UM is limited in scope and usage, so he has to carefully plan and strategize about how and when he casts it. It's nice that Jade can also loosen up and use his cunning not necessarily for nefarious deeds, but just to tease others.
He plays support and he plays it well. I also have a tendency to like "helper" characters (butlers, bodyguards, knights, etc.), which is another archetype that Jade slots into. He is highly competent as a vice dorm leader, personal assistant, and right-hand man (eel?) to Azul. Plus, Jade knows when and how to play to his strengths (especially when it comes to deception and disarming others) and adapt to any situation he is placed in. Jade has even earned the approval of the notoriously hard to please Vil!
He keeps you guessing, and you'll still never even see it coming. I think it's interesting that he appears more docile than Floyd, yet Azul warns his peers that Jade is the more dangerous twin since Jade won't telegraph his schemes or bad moods (unlike Floyd). I 100% agree with Azul; not knowing what Jade has in store or when it will hit you is much scarier--but also much more thrilling in a way, haha...
Similar to the last point but much more specific; I love Love LOVE those moments when he's smiling while saying the most horrendous things (the infamous "what I'd do to anyone that betrays me" line lives rent free in my head). I also adore it when Jade is lying to your face and overacting (like when he pretends he got dust in his eye in book 4). He's so dramatic while lying his heart out, it makes me giggle.
Jade works with many of the tropes I like to go for when I want comfort. Househusband/domestic life stuff, butler looking after you, etc. I have a habit of overworking and forgetting to take care of my needs, so it's easier for me to remember if I pretend like Jade's the one doing the self-care for me.
I appreciate that he appreciates nature. I don't get to touch much grass (not that I don't go outside, it's that there isn't much grass in the area I live in)... so I get very excited whenever I get to just enjoy nature in its purest form, taking in that fresh air. It makes me feel like we're kindred spirits.
The duality of eel. Overall, I'd say that the reason I like Jade so much is because he can be many things which typically run contradictory to one another. I think that makes for a fun character that keeps me on my toes ^^
NOT YOU USING “J WORD” TOO… 💀 It’s spreading… just like a bunch of spores…
Aaaah, it’s Sebastian!! It’s been years and years since I read Black Butler (I think I stopped around the Blue Cult arc?). He’s still just as effortlessly elegant as I remember him being… I guess that’s par for the course for one hell of a butler, huh?
Here, lemme just… *crudely draws on him* THERE WE GO, THE J WORD SSR FOR AN EVENT WHERE WE VISIT THE LAND OF CRIMSON LONG :>
Thank you for your question and the rot fuel 🥰
#twst#twisted wonderland#Jade Leech#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#notes from the writing raven#question#Vil Schoenheit#Floyd Leech#Azul Ashengrotto#Tweels#Octavinelle#Black Butler#Sebastian Michaelis#Jade Leech thirst
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noticed u didn’t have as much writings for vernon than the other members (nothing wrong with that) but i’ve been thinking…
vernon is always so soft with you, he’s just so sweet to you…it would take a lot of teasing and bratting to get him to snap, but when he does you’re in for one long night.
yes you’re correcttt i don’t have as many for sweet vernonie ;( i really hope to write for him more <3 and yees quiet vernon seems very very patient to me. i sincerely think it would take him weeks to snap from your teasing. like you could tease him and act like a brat for literal days because he’s so easygoing. you’d make it a daily thing at that point, just because he’s so fun to mess around with. but ohh if you catch vernon on a bad day? oh he’d fuck you stupid. he wouldn’t be in the mood for any teasing or brattiness, and he’d waste no time stripping you and throwing you down onto his mattress. he’d take all of his anger out on you, releasing all the pent up stress from his day in the form of sharp thrusts into your heat. and you’d love it, would love when he’s rough with you and throws you around like you’re his doll. of course you’d enjoy the nights where he’s slow and gentle with you, but something about him pounding into you after a long day really turns you on <3 he’d definitely fuck you for hours, all of his exhaustion melting away the longer he stays buried inside of your clenching heat. the sounds of your skin loudly colliding with every thrust would fill the room along with your desperate moans.
all i’m saying is vernon would fuck you right :) and after the hours of him using you as his personal fuck doll he’d go right back to babying you <3 treating you so well and taking care of you like the sweet boy he is <3 (and you’d secretly hope he’d take his anger out on you more often, because you love being able to be his stress reliever, while also getting the best fuck of your life.)
taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa
#thoughts#seventeen smut#seventeen#smut#svt smut#svt#vernon svt#hansol smut#choi hansol#vernon smut#vernon chwe#hansol vernon chwe#mountainficss
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