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sixosix · 4 months

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synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho

a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^

Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.

Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.

“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.

Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.”

Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”

“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.

Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”

You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.

“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—

“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.

But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.

“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.

Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.

Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”

You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.

Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”

Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”

“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.

Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”

And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.

“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”

“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”

Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”

Satoru bristled. “So?”

“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”

He gaped. “So rude!”

And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”

Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”

Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.

“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.

“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”

Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.

You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.

It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.

“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.

“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.

“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”

You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.

Your face fell. “Satoru.”

“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”

Your hand gripped the door tighter.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”

You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.

Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“It creeps me out when you act nice.”

He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”

Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”

His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”

He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.

There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”

Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”

“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”

Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”

“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.

“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”

Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.

You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”

Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.

Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.

Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”

“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”

You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.

“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.

You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”

“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”

“You read the messages?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”

The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.

“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.

“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”

Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?

“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”

Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.

“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him. “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”

“Did I miss something?”

“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”

His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”

Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—

you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?

you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had

you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead

you i love him can someone please comfort me

shoko oh no

shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth

suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n

shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?

you more than anything, unfortunately

Wait.

The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?

Wait.

Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”

You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”

“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”

“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”

‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”

“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.

“Say that again,” he demanded.

“My life is over?”

Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”

He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.

“I love you?” you said.

“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”

You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”

Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.

“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I get a please now?”

Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.

“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.

“I’ll show you manic.”

You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.

“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”

“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”

“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”

Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.

“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x reader

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luveline · 11 months

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𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel have different definitions of the same word. he finally gives in to temptation —featuring a cranky but lovesick miguel and a flirty, head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This has to be your favourite song in the whole world.

You sit in the hall beside the entrance to Miguel's office (this week, you're thinking you might call it The Bedroom, on account of all the magic happening inside), headphones on, a bottle of lemonade beside you.

Today has the makings of a great day. You're at the Spider Society headquarters and not at home, for starters, and one of the Peter Parkers you'd made friends with in the med-wing saw you this morning and recognised you, which is brilliant because he looked super similar to every other Peter Parker you've met. He offered to help you fix your rinky-dink headphones, and now they're working again and loud enough to cover the sound of Spider Chatter, even with your enhanced senses.

What's more, Miguel has finally emerged from his dormitory, and he's walking toward you looking confused. That's a step up from unhappy.

He asks you something.

"What? I can't hear you."

He says something else. You shake your head, music too loud to catch even a hint of what he's saying, and Miguel eventually crouches down to push your headphones around your neck. He's surprisingly gentle.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Waiting for you, what did you think I was doing?"

"Why are you sitting on the ground?" He gestures backward to a red-lit control panel. "Chair right there."

"I think that's someone's desk."

"It's really not."

Miguel stands up and doesn't hesitate to grab your arms and help you up too. It means more to you than it should, because it's not necessary and a few months ago he wouldn't have bothered. Which isn't to imply that Miguel is a mean guy, Lyla says he used to be a loser (code for sweetheart), and you get flashes of it every now and then in chivalry and kind smiles.

He's not mean, he's cranky.

"Don't sit on the floor," he says. "Just– just go inside if I'm not here."

"Well, The Bedroom doesn't come when I call."

Miguel's lips part in confusion for a second. Lyla appears at his shoulder, and says, "She can't get the platform to come down without you, genius."

"Put her name on the command list," Miguel says.

Your eyes widen. Lyla flashes to his other side, closer to you, and smiles playfully. "Done."

"Stop sitting on the floor," Miguel says, turning around. He walks a few steps and pauses when he realises you're not following. "Are you coming with me?"

You jog to catch up with him. Music plays against your collar, a slinking, indie sound that makes Miguel wrinkle his nose. You turn it up a little bit and smile when he glares at you.

You enter the atrium that houses The Bedroom. Miguel hops up onto the platform because he's too tall to see sense while you struggle, but you're pleased when he takes your hand and pulls you up properly. All these familiar touches today, anyone might think Miguel liked you.

He definitely does.

You sit down in the spinning chair near what you've decided is your desk but certainly isn't, again pleased beyond words when you find your sketchbook from last time still there, cleaned away carefully, pencils in a pot and a brand new pencil sharpener by the side of it. It matches your spider suit. You look over your shoulder, your face lit up with thanks, and Miguel swiftly looks away from you.

"It's electric. Tell me when the battery's dead, I'll charge it."

"Thank you," you say, flipping your sketchbook open to the last entry.

You aren't Picasso, but most members of the Spider Society are somewhat artistically inclined, considering the suit-making rite of passage they must all endure —if you don't know how to sew before you start, you will by the end.

Or like Miguel, you could cheat and make the suit out of nanotechnology.

You haven't really been designing any suits lately. Spidering is tiring, you need to relax, and your reluctant friends are the easiest subjects, though Miguel's face is painstakingly difficult to get right. He's very angular, high cheekbones with that divot that needs kissing stat, and his nose… He's really pretty, but you almost wish he wasn't so your sketches of him held a better likeness.

He's the only one of the regular crew that stands still long enough to be drawn. Jessica doesn't like you (or maybe she does, it's hard to tell, but she hasn't forgiven you for asking if her baby was like a maraca bead when she fights) so she doesn't let you draw her. Lyla will stand very still if you request it, but after a few portraits she got bored and started changing her hair or glasses, and after a few more she gave up. Margo is hard to focus on because her blue light makes everything else seem super orange, though she does stand in one place usually. She takes up a lot of pages, but it's Miguel you've drawn most of all.

You go around the Spider Society sometimes asking people if they'll sit for you, but again your skills aren't impressive, so it's awkward when they want to see how you've done. There are drawings of all kinds of Spiders, including yourself, between Miguel, and Miguel, and Miguel.

His back, the side of his face, his hands ungloved. His pointy bottom teeth mid fight. The naked stretch of his arm and his Rapture injector positioned over it. He might not appreciate that one. You rip it out and toss it in the waste paper basket under your desk, where it incinerates, paper smoke curling up toward the extractor fan on the atrium ceiling.

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you, his gaze on one of his marigold coloured monitors.

"Drawing." You're not drawing so much as sitting there with a coloured pencil in hand, trying to think of conversation starters. "What are you upto?"

"According to the program, there are no Canon events today at risk of disruption," Lyla chimes in, "so Miguel's doing chores."

"What, not one bad thing is gonna happen today?" you ask.

"Nothing we can predict," Miguel says.

You swap your pencil for your drink, unscrewing the lid of your lemonade to sip at it leisurely. Today is your favourite kind of day. No fighting, lots of time with Miguel, and music to go with it. You're so happy you could melt.

Miguel turns to you and sees your stickying smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just happy to be here with you," you say.

"Don't say stuff like that," he says, turning back to his screen.

"Scared you'll actually experience sincerity?" Lyla asks.

"Lyla," he warns, as though Lyla might be afraid of any consequence he had the power to inflict.

"Sorry," you say, not very sorry, but not wanting him to be uncomfortable, "it's just nice, being friends with you."

"We aren't friends."

You're not quick to take offence with Miguel. He can be cruel. He's hurting, he's unhappy, he has a lot on his plate. Oftentimes he's so tense with apprehension his neck locks up and you hear it clicking as he turns one way or another, or if he isn't apprehensive he's disappointed, furious, upset. You give him the benefit of the doubt because you know him, but you don't know the tone of voice he uses now. It's like he's offended at the insinuation. Like he would never, ever be friends with you.

You put your lemonade on the desk and don't know what to do. His insipid floating platform is too high now to leave without causing a scene. Maybe when he's busy you can web down and go home. All you know is that you desperately don't want to be near him. But home sucks, and the dormitories are worse. You're stuck.

"You can be so mean," you say softly, turning back to your sketchbook and pencils.

You're thinking you might draw him with a bunch of bee stings, or find a previous sketch and cross his eyes out.

"What?" he asks.

Your hackles rise. "You're mean. Don't talk to me."

"What?" Miguel stands very still. "Y/N, what?"

"What do you mean, what? I said something nice and you said something cruel. I get it, okay, we aren't friends, so don't talk to me."

"I've upset you."

You stare at your blank page. "It doesn't matter."

"No, I've said the wrong thing."

"Miguel, don't bother. What else could you mean by that?" You laugh with little humour. Crestfallen doesn't begin to describe how you feel. "I'll be quiet. I just don't want to be at home."

"What's wrong with home?"

"Is there ever much right?"

"Did something happen?"

"We aren't friends, so why ask me?"

You bite the inside of your lip as Miguel approaches, his footfall hushed over the lightweight metal flooring. You turn to him in your chair, head tilted back to meet his eyes, arms crossed over your stomach defensively.

"That's not what I meant when I said that." He speaks slowly, firmly, to avoid any misunderstanding. "What's wrong with home, mi cielo?"

You tap his ankle with your shoe, looking away from his gaze. You don't want to tell him, and if he keeps looking at you like that, you will.

"¿Qué pasó?" He bends at the waist slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," you murmur.

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"Nothing happened, it's just– it's lonely there," you say, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his sudden caring. "What's with you? One minute you're not my friend, the next you're worrying about me? You're giving me whiplash."

He stands up, and his face falls back into a more typical emotionlessness. He's clearly feeling something, but he's wiping the slate clean.

"When I said we aren't friends, it didn't mean–" He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying in the women's dormitory?" he asks, frustrated.

"I am, but I'm useless, and they don't really respect me because I'm–"

"Eccentric?"

"–not as experienced," you finish, eyes flaring.

"Oh, my god," Lyla says, appearing in front of him to make sure he sees her delight at his slip up.

Miguel bats her hologram with an annoyed grunt. She disappears again, her tinkling laughter cut short.

"It's a good thing," Miguel says quickly.

You stand up. "It's not the point."

"You should feel at home in the dormitory, and if you don't, I'll find you somewhere else to stay here, you don't have to be in there if you don't feel welcome."

"Miguel, you're sounding awfully friendly right now."

"We aren't friends," he says again, stepping closer to you. "What's so hard to understand about that?"

"But we spend time together. We have fun. You like me, Miguel, you do, you tell me jokes sometimes, you make me things for me. You… you do like me, right?"

"You know that I do," he says, his eyebrows pinching together.

"You like me, like, you want me," you say, just to make sure.

His fist clenches hard enough to make an audible sound. Miguel's voice is fraught, and through barely parted lips, "If you know that, what's the problem?"

You don't know. Maybe it was silly to worry about how he sees you, because you do know that Miguel likes you, but you also know he hadn't wanted to like you. His attraction to you was reluctant, you're not stupid enough to miss that, and it was important to you that whatever tension sexual or otherwise lingering between you had bloomed into mutual affection.

"I want us to be friends, too," you say.

"I thought we were more than that."

It's such a quiet admission. He isn't afraid to say it, and he isn't reluctant like you feared.

"Miguel," you say. "I want you to like me. I know I can be off-putting, I know I tease too much, but I don't want you to like me despite those things, I just want you to like me. So, when you say we aren't friends…"

"I've never heard you say three serious sentences in a row," Miguel says, reaching out for your hand. He pulls you toward him slowly, his fingertips gliding up the length of your arm. "Then again, it's the same nonsense as usual."

"Miguel–"

"Of course I like you. How else do you need me to say it? I like you and I want to kiss you, I like you and I like that you're irregular. You want us to be friends? Then let's be friends." Miguel's hand closes around your bicep. His thumb presses against soft fat and muscle alike. "But not just friends."

Relieved, you sigh. "So you're saying we really weren't friends?"

Miguel leans down until his face is the only thing you can see. His smooth skin, his dark eyes, their darker flush of too-long lashes; it's unfair how pretty his eyelashes are, how they curl, how they bunch in triangles you have to fight to resist touching. His eyebrows so often slightly set, giving him an unhappy expression even now.

He brings the hand that isn't clasped at your bicep to the hill of your waist. It's hot as a brand, and it pulls you closer, your neck craning with every inch he steals from between you.

"We can be friends," he says.

His fingers twitch against your arm, and his hand begins to climb. It's not as slow as it feels, conquering the curve of your shoulder, your neck. His hand is big, his thumb pressing into the column of your throat gently.

He looks at you for a measured lapse of time, and you know, finally, that you're on the same page.

"What you said before, 'mi cielo?'" You hold his elbow. "What does that mean?"

"My sky," he says. "My… my heavens. It's saccharine. It's something teenagers say, when they're," —his voice dips, the hand at your waist squeezing tight like you might slip through his hold— "infatuated."

"Just teenagers say that?" you ask.

"No," he allows. "I always thought it was too much."

"But you–"

"Yeah. I did."

The first kiss is surprisingly sweet. On the tail end of words, Miguel presses his lips half-parted to yours, slowly, softly, like the brush of a downy feather. He lingers, and it's your own movement that spurs him on —you shudder up into his lips and he loses control.

The sound he makes is a shock. You try to pull back to check he isn't hurting, and he lets you until he realises why it is you're pulling away. "It's fine, it's okay," he says quickly.

Assuaged of your concern, he pulls you back in and he kisses you, he kisses you, his hand squeezing too tight and his nose bridge sliding up against yours from the force of it all. Your chest feels like a pit and you need Miguel closer if you're ever going to fill it, your hands snapping up to his face like magnets. There's no need to pull him down to you, he's already wading in, not wading —crashing, kissing you so hard your lips burn.

You make a sound that says, hopefully, This is really fun, but don't give me a bruise.

His tongue is a heat at the seam of your lips. Your weight bends, your chest leaning into his front. He doesn't hesitate to ease his hand behind your back and prop you up against him as things get heady, and the only thing you can feel is him.

All those times he almost kissed you, all those times he couldn't cross the gap. He poked and prodded and provoked you into getting into his space and each time you called his bluff. You wanted Miguel to give in, and now he has, it's the meltiest, most stickying warmth you've ever felt.

Voices sound far away, off the platform and down the hall. Jessica and someone else, approaching fast.

Something sharp snags your bottom lip as Miguel pulls away. You press your finger to your sore lip. When you pull it away, blood spots your skin.

Miguel takes your face into his hand and angles your face to a glowing screen carefully, in total juxtaposition of the grip he'd had on your waist.

"Sorry," he mumbles, the tip of his fangs catching the light. His adrenaline must be high.

"Excited?" you ask him breathily.

He wipes your lip with his thumb. The other hand pet's your cheek. You feel suddenly and smotheringly adored, all his attention on your pinprick wound.

"Everything okay up there?" Jessica calls.

Miguel drops your face like he's remembered himself. You turn to your newfound company, Jessica Drew and an unhappy looking Gwen Stacy. This high up, there's no way they can see the state of either of you, mussed hair and Miguel's blushy cheeks, but they'll see you eventually. And Miguel might like you, might want you, might be your more-than-friend, but he's a stickler for appearances, and being found kissing your subordinate dizzy when you're supposed to be working would mortify him.

"I cut my lip on a lemonade bottle," you call cheerily, waving at grumpy Gwen. Her lips perk up. "Miguel's trying to tell me it's my fault. Is lemonade usually sharp?"

His hand flattens subtly at the small of your pack.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"Welcome, handsome. Is it bad?" you ask, turning back to hip with your lip pouted.

His eyes visibly soften at the sight of you. "Not that bad."

"Alright, good. You'll have to let the platform down, I need to go."

"What? Where are you going?" he asks.

"If we're friends now," you say, lilting, performing a half spin in front of him just to watch his eyes narrow, "I'm going to have to make us bracelets. Friendship bracelets." He clearly doesn't like the idea of being friends still, so you amend with a softer tone, "Friends and whatever that was. Come on, you'll love it. I'll make it match your suit."

He rubs the space between his eyebrows.

"Will you bring your stuff here?" he asks, the platform beginning to lower under your feet.

"Duh. I need to take lots of measurements. I'll be in your hair all day, you'll hate it."

He nods like he agrees. "I'll hate it," he says, deadpan. When he's sure Jessica and Gwen aren't looking, he gives you a smile you've never seen before.

You and I have a secret, it says.

Lyla appears by your shoulder to instantly tell him otherwise. It goes without saying that she's mildly disgusted and extremely smug. "Don't match it to his suit, Y/N. Mr. Heartthrob here needs something soft. How about some baby pinks, hm?"

Miguel sighs, but you barely hear him over your excited gasp. "Yes! Pink and white, for sure, that would be so nice."

"Great," Miguel says. "Perfect. Thanks for that, Lyla."

"You're so welcome!"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D please reblog if you have the time ♡

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dimicul · 4 months

Text

wine red

simon riley x chubby!female reader

just something quick i wrote after i saw this ghost headcanon on tt :,)

“Nothin’, just don’t like how my stomach sticks out.”

Simon pauses, his expression neutral. He glances towards you, drinking in the sight of your features drawing into a small frown as you studied your reflection, hands supporting the small pudge around your belly. He notes how bloody beautiful you look in red, but looks back to his own shoes, urging back a grunt of frustration.

You never complained about your belly.

He’s been around you long enough to be aware of your insecurities, watching you pad towards the bathroom mirror and prod at your pimples, grumbling at the bump on your nose bridge, sometimes sat beside him in bed with a sparkly face mask on - it was second nature to know you, and although it pissed him off to no end, he also understood insecurities were normal.

But this - this was different. You embraced your body, curves, blemishes and all, the crooks and crevices denting your flesh - you didn’t care for the sly looks or judgemental comments, you wore whatever the hell you wanted. And if anyone had a problem, Simon would have fixed it in a heartbeat. This wasn’t your insecurity, this wasn’t a flaw, it was a part of you you loved.

Simon couldn’t handle your expression.

A sigh, a clacking of heels - you had torn your gaze away from the mirror, face scrunched up into one of those mopey frowns Simon adored, and grabbed the leather coat from the rack. It’s almost suffocating, the silence, and he does realise he needs to say something, but talking wasn’t always his strong suit. So his jaw clicks into place, shoulders broad and unmoving, gloved hands resting on his thighs.

Suddenly Simon is sixteen again and sat in front of his headteacher.

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, whiskey irises boring into the back of your head before you turn with a half assed smile. Ha. He’s glad he can understand your little moods now, or else this night would’ve turned for the worse.

“Come.” The baritone of his voice draws you out of your darting thoughts. You sigh, stepping forward.

You’re not prepared for when his large hands latch onto your hips gently, pushing you forward so his head could rest on your stomach.

“Si-”

And again. You’re doing things you’ve never done before - you always let him rest on your stomach, it was never something you panicked about. A beat passes and your boyfriend lifts his head, penetrating eyes contrasting starkly against the red of your dress.

“What’s up with you?”

You purse your lips, mulling over his tone. “Nothing, just - this dress wasn’t always so… fitting.”

Simon hums roughly, and you inhale sharply at his hands stroking against your hip tenderly.

“Look’s fine to me.”

Neither of you say anything. Not a lot of words needed to be said around him, but then again, not a lot of men were like Simon. Your eyes soften, and you let your palm rest on the back of his neck, your touch making him hum again, the vibrations against your belly causing you to shudder.

“Ev’ry big boy needs his big girl.”

You laugh sweetly, and finally, he exhales quietly, welcoming the feel of your nails against his neck. He supposed it didn’t matter what the hell you thought about yourself.

Because he’d always want you.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x chubby reader #chubby!reader #bodyimage #body posititivity #ghost cod #simon riley #fluff #captain price #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #john price #call of duty #angst #ghost x you

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lovedazai · 5 months

Text

SNOWFLAKES & MARSHMALLOWS . . . a winter evening with you makes dazai realize what he’s been missing out on.

ft. dazai + f!reader, christmas time, lots of kisses, a little suggestive for a sec

“ow, ow, ow!” dazai sticks out his burnt tongue, glaring down at your mug of hot chocolate. his big brown eyes are shimmering, lips pouty. “it’s so hot!”

“it’s mine,” you poke his forehead, and he whines your name. “are you okay?”

he puckers his lips expectantly in lieu of a response. they lift up into a smile as soon as your mouth touches his, his giggles vibrating against you. “i’m all better now.”

your fingers brush against his as you take your stolen drink back. the sip of hot chocolate was enough for something warm to settle in his stomach, but he suspects the fuzzy feeling that’s been lingering in his chest since earlier that day is because of your company.

the christmas lights draped across the street had been especially pretty on the way home, bouncing off your skin and your big eyes as you looked up at him, intertwined hands swinging in between the two of you. you had given him your scarf when you saw him shivering, reached up on your tiptoes to wrap it around him; you said you didn’t need it, that he was there to keep you warm.

he thinks you look just as pretty now, bundled beneath a blanket, your legs intertwined with his. the fake tree you insisted on getting sits in the corner, emitting a warm white light around his little dorm.

“are you sure you want to drink that?” he sighs, draping a bandaged arm over his eyes. “you could hurt yourself. i’ll sacrifice myself and drink it for you, if i must.”

the sound of your happy hum makes him peek at you, whipped cream dotted on the tip of your nose, eyes bright as you pull your mug away. “it’s so tasty!”

he cups his palm against your cheek to tilt your face towards him. he kisses the whipped cream away, but it’s nothing compared to the plush of your lips when he presses his mouth against yours; you taste sugary sweet. “i can think of something tastier.”

you let out the dreamiest sigh as he kisses you, and he swears you could melt right between his hands. he nibbles on your lower lip, trying to ignore how dizzy he feels when your tongue presses against his own. you trail your fingertips along his jaw to pull him closer, his own inching up your sides, greedily taking in as much of you as he can.

“this is the first christmas eve i haven’t been alone,” he kisses you in between sentences, lips curled into a bittersweet smile. “if i’m not careful, i might get used to it.”

“you’re going to have to,” something tugs in his chest as your hands drift to his nape, touch tender as your fingertips trail along his neck, toying with the edges where his bandages overlap. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

the pads of your thumbs feel like velvet as they trace his face, cradling him with more care than anyone else ever has. he’s starting to miss your pout, his heart fluttering at the thought of getting to kiss it off your face, and inches his hand back towards your mug.

“‘samu!” his lips part as he steals another sip of your hot chocolate, a defense already brewing as he licks the melted marshmallows off his lips. “it’s snowing!”

he blinks. he’s already so much colder when you dart away from his side, even when you leave behind the blanket and your mug is still warm in his hand.

“come here, hurry!” you smile back at him over your shoulder, bouncing on your legs like a child. you hold your hand out, grabbing for him, and he intertwines your fingers with his as soon as he’s in reach.

he slides his arms around your waist and beneath your shirt, settling them against your bare stomach. he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, peeking up just enough to see the flurries outside. against the streetlights, they almost look like they’re glowing, little stars falling down to the grass and melting away.

you look at him, eyes shining with the reflection of the tree’s lights before you gaze back outside. “isn’t it pretty?”

he squeezes your hands and nods, but his eyes are glued to your profile. “gorgeous.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd fluff #dazai fluff #bsd x you #dazai x you

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iridescentparkers · 19 days

Text

tease ˚ ༘ ౨ৎ⋆｡˚ a small pre-500 gift. enjoy ;) (18+)

warnings - swearing, smut. a little sub!peter!

HE SLUMPED his long, lanky body against his bedroom floor, pressing his back against his bookshelf. Peter's glasses slid down the bump on his nose, his mouth gaping slightly open as he stared at his textbook. You sat against his headboard, watching the rhythm of his chest move as he studied what was in front of him.

His tongue touched the roof of his mouth as he turned the page, the little movements sending warmth to your body.

Weren't you supposed to be studying? Fuck. He’s not trying to tease you. That’s what made it so much hotter. Just his steady breaths alone turned you on.

As he adjusted in his seated position, leaving his eyes on the page, you felt sweat drip down your side.

You huffed, beginning to fan yourself with the book, “It’s really hot in here.”

Peter looked up to you from his book.

“Extremely,” he said, looking around, before meeting your eyes. “Once I finish this chapter, I’ll go downstairs and try to fix the A/C.”

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“Anything for you,” he cheesed, glancing up at you before moving his eyes back to his book.

You quickly moved your eyes between him and your material. As some minutes passed, you sat bored, aimlessly moving your fingers around the page as your brain thought about watching him come undone on his bedroom floor.

“God, it is warm here,” he stated. “Maybe this will make it less stuffy.”

With the window open, he removed his shirt, putting both his arms on the windowpane. As he looked down at the cars and streets beneath him, he gripped the wood, his veins growing prominent on his skin.

“Wonder if anyone else has a broken A/C too?” He asked. He moved back to his previous position, grabbing the book next to him to continue studying.

Was he doing it on purpose? You watched him take a breath as he continued studying to then looking at the band of his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. They were loose around his body. His hand that was not holding the book sat on the upper part of his thigh.

Peter put his head back as he huffed, closing his eyes and peering them back open before looking back to you, “Something wrong?”

Your expression is neutral, hiding how gobsmacked you are by him right now. “No.”

“Really? You keep looking at me. You sure?”

You paused right before moving to the floor and sitting against his bed. “It’s just- Peter you look really…good, right now.”

“Now? I’m a sweaty mess.”

“A hot, sweaty mess.”

He smiled, leaning over to place a peck on your lips before going back to his position, “What do you need from me right now?”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, crawling over between his legs before walking your fingertips to the head of his cock. “Let me make you feel good.”

He nodded, letting you guide his hand to the inside of his pants, you both feeling him inside of his sweatpants. You both glide his hand up and down, feeling his hips twitch beneath him. You both continue the motion, Peter biting down on his lip as he hunches forward, moaning into your ear.

You felt him get hard beneath you, Peter moaning louder as you ran your thumb briefly along his tip.

"You're so hard already, and just for me baby?" You teased, rubbing a gentle hand along his chest as your foreheads touch, his breathing picking up more speed. "You're doing so good."

You moved his hand away as you slid down his pants from his hips and slowed the gentle strokes on his dick. “Can I tell you something?”

He whimpered his sentence, dropping his jaw as he moved closer to your ear as you nodded, “I saw you watching, and I took off my shirt to make you flustered.”

“Really?" You asked, slowly moving your hands from him. "Since you didn’t want to behave, should I stop?”

“No,” he shuddered. “Please, you’re just so cute when you get like that!"

You cut your lids, placing a hand on his cheek, cupping his chin as you pull his ear closer to your lips. “Don’t let it happen again.”

You whisper in his ear, gritting as you look down at him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Yes- Yes, ma’am.”

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just-some-user-hunny · 8 months

Text

Jealous Pino headcanons

~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~

(also note that I got this picture from Kkyos, please check them out!! Their lies of p stuff is great!!)

~ This new emotion would all but stagger him the first time he feels it. Perhaps a stalker appears a little too taken by you someday, loitering around you and filling your ears with sweet words and compliments.

Pino would find himself feeling irritated by this. His brow would knit and his eyes glare hard at whoever has your attention like this. He won't interfere, merely hovering close to you and staring cold daggers into the person. He'll make sure you're safe and ok, watching this person and eyeing them to make sure they don't make you uncomfortable.

~ Just him getting all tense when they hug you. Eyeing their hands that roam casually over your waist/back/shoulders. Still, he won't interfere- however you may notice his fists clenching a little, the sound of his legion hand clicking subtly.

~ Maybe later once you've departed from the stalker, he pulls you into a safe secluded alleyway and just eagerly tugs you into his arms, hugging you tightly to the point you feel your feet leave the ground and your lungs squeeze from the air leaving them.

His hands roam and settle on your waist, exactly where the stalker had touched you, and it's like he's trying to rub the ghosting presence of their touch off you. Like he's trying to erase it with his own hands.

Pino will simply stand there with you in his arms till he's satisfied, his nose ghosting over your hairline a little before he places you back down on your feet- looking you over once more. With his palms gently cradling the curves of your arms, he'll pull away and lead you back to the hotel- your hand clasped firmly yet carefully in his human hand, meanwhile you're just a flustered and confused mess.

~ He'd start to confront new feelings of

Insecurity. As a being not quite human nor puppet, he's always never given it much thought other than appreciating the strength he possesses to come out on top in battle. At first, he had felt a sense of pride whenever you marveled at his legion arm- impressed by its mechanic and strength. It was strong. He was strong, and he felt pride in knowing you saw him as that. Your protector.

However now you'll notice him start to be more and more hesitant of touching you with his legion arm, the steel intricate carved hand that would once gently curl within your own fingers in a kind embrace would now rarely even grace you with its touch. He'd be more adamant with touching you with his more 'human' hand, wanting to feel more belonging with you.

~ Pino would start having thoughts that would spiral whenever he thought too much about it. He's just a puppet. He's cold and made of parts, whilst you're warm and made of flesh and soul. Whatever could he give you that real man could...

~ Please just hold his face and assure him that he's more than just a puppet. He's your best friend and protector, as you are to him. That he so incredibly precious to you, and that you wouldn't want anyone else that isn't him. Poor pino would get all droopy eyed and puppy-like, finally embracing you with both of his arms and hiding his face into your stomach as you rub the nape of his neck and his scalp.

~ Once you've communicated everything and he's found peace, it is too tempting to tease him.

~ "You're a little possessive, you know that?" You'd giggle playfully, ruffling his fluffy locks of hair a little.

~ Pino would grunt softly, but not pull away- instead nuzzling his face closer into you and tightening his grip, only proving your point 😅

~ He knows he still has lots to learn when it comes to emotions and what makes him feel, but as long as he has your guiding and reassuring words, Pino feels like he could do anything <3

#lies of p x reader #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio x reader #lies of p x you #my writing

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monsterinmyboxers · 1 year

Note

Bruce Wayne x Male! Top stripper.

⠀⠀ virginity stripped.

pairing. bruce wayne x top stripper male reader.

dni. fem-aligned and minors.

author’s note. patman is such a virgin. also im sorry this took so long i got distracted (jake sullyyjfj) riddler doesn’t exist in this n the end is kinda rushed

content. one night stand, lots of prep; fingering + rimming, sir kink, dirty talk; degradation + praise + pet names, chest play, lil cum play, lust at first sight.

bruce didn’t really know how he got here.

but, he didn’t really care either.

the only thing he could really recall was how you moved in such tight clothing, bulge out for everyone to see and attempt to claw at. you caught his eye as he caught yours, embarrassment making his face flush, quickly looking at the ground.

he was here for you. he saw you when selina had the contact lenses in, her sauntering through the club, looking over at you with a smile and a nod of acknowledgment.

he had asked who you were, not close enough for the contacts to gain any identification, and she said a friend. he wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. besides, selina was rather closed off, she probably wouldn’t reveal much information.

bruce shouldn’t be here, he knows that, but the urge to meet you face to face was overwhelming.

though, he couldn’t quite seem to get close enough to you to do that. luckily, you had the courage he couldn’t conjure, at least not in a situation like this.

after your time was up, you step off the stage, walking past people with such confidence bruce couldn’t muster in this type of crowd. to his surprise, you were headed towards him.

he was dressed in layers, not wanting to attract attention, keeping himself hidden in the audience. yet, you spotted him in seconds, no hesitation or shame shown — discarding the fact that you were half naked. your lower half was mostly covered, but didn’t leave much to the imagination.

turning his body towards you, he looks up. you were bigger than he had anticipated — he had been staring from a distance, after all. you tilt your head, eyes squinting a bit before widening. he knew why, but didn’t glance away from you. he wouldn’t dare. why? why couldn’t he look away? why didn’t he cover his face, hide his identity? why did he even come here?

“didn’t know someone of your status would be in a place like this.” he didn’t know what to do, knowing that if you decided to tell someone, anyone that you found bruce wayne in the iceberg lounge, it could ruin his reputation. even with all this going through his head, he still kept his calm demeanor. you saw no sign of panic from him, but gave reassurance anyway. “i won’t tell.”

he has yet to say anything, and it made you curious. “why are you here?” you were met with silence for a moment. he couldn’t tell you why he was here, because the answer was you, and he didn’t want to seem like a stalker as you’ve never interacted before this. so, he went with whatever else came to mind.

“entertainment.” one of your eyebrows twitch upward, lips forming a smirk. “oh? well, maybe i can entertain you, then?” he thought for a moment, “i don’t want to watch you dance.” you laugh, “that’s not what i was offering, sweetheart.”

he seems to tense at your words, heart racing faster, throat dry. you catch on, chuckling once more. “you know what i’m talking about, huh?” you step closer, testing boundaries, and he backs away. little did he know, a wall was behind him, only becoming aware when his back hit the flat surface.

“you wanna get fucked, don’t you?” he lets out a shaky breath, pupils dilating. you were so close, nose almost touching his. your height difference came into play, making him feel that somehow he was the weaker one here, vulnerability on an all time high. “didn’t know the bruce wayne could be so perverted.” despite the fact that you were degrading him, you made sure to keep quiet, so others couldn’t listen in on your conversation.

he couldn’t speak, as if his voice was stripped away from him, but the blush on his face and that look in his eye spoke for themselves.

this led to the present, where you and him were in a private room inside the club, lips connecting sloppily. he didn’t have much experience in kissing, that much was obvious. but he made up for it with what you could only describe as enthusiasm. something you don’t see often coming from him.

though, it made you wonder what else was he inexperienced in. could you be his first time? fuck, the thought made you hot all over.

while you were lost in thought, your hands decide to move without your permission, rubbing along his sides and down to his thighs — feeling the muscle through the fabric.

your imagination ran wild, and you planned to make it a reality soon enough.

you guided him to the bed behind him, separating from him once the back of his knees hit the edge. “you gonna be good for me, mr. wayne?” you tease. bruce ignored that and nodded. “yes, sir.” it was almost silent. god, he was so fucking cute.

“sit.” you cock your head towards the mattress, and he immediately obeys. he’s stuck between looking at you, and your dick. it felt like you were testing him, and he didn’t want to upset you. so, he stared up, just as he was earlier during your shift. with the occasional glances towards your bare upper body.

“so pretty,” thick fingers comb through his hair, him leaning into the touch, eyelids heavy. your other hand works on your pants, pulling them to your mid thigh. you gently gripped his hair, getting his attention, and his line of sight slowly directs itself toward your crotch. his hips twitch, cock throbbing as he saw yours. you were so hard — did he do this to you?

his hands tremble as they were placed on your knees, bruce looking to you for approval. all you have to do is tilt your head, and he starts slipping your underwear down, eyebrows raising as your cock almost hits him, surprise etched into his features.

“you’re leaking.” his voice was shy, quiet, feeling so much more vulnerable and he wasn’t even nude. he was right, a mere droplet of pre-cum gathering at your slit. “clean it up for me.” your tone was firm, but soft. he swallows at your words, hesitating before putting a thumb above the tear of pre-cum, tenderly wiping it off. that’s not exactly what you meant, but you were satisfied anyway.

what he did next was a shock to you. he brought his finger to his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip past his lips and lick the liquid off. he makes a face, trying to decipher if he liked the taste or not. and you found the entire process fucking adorable.

so much so, that you bend down to grab at his legs, lifting him a bit to move him further up the bed. he grunts, head now resting on one of the many silky pillows. hands grab at the button on his jeans, but before doing anything you look at him. “may i?” he barely gave you time to speak. “yes. please, sir. please.”

without a second thought, you undo his pants, pulling them off completely — bringing his underwear down with it. he had prepared himself before, but turns out, he still wasn’t quite ready for the temperature of the room, legs closing fast — making him wince.

you noticed, quick to comfort him, nails grazing themselves over his meaty thighs. “oh, no. spread those legs for me, sweet thing. can i call you that, bruce? hm?” it was said in a whisper, the mans legs gradually falling to opposite sides. a nod would follow that, answering your question. “god, you’re perfect.”

praise fell from your lips easily now, mouth finding other targets besides his own. after shedding some layers, you were able to suck along his neck, leaving light marks. bruce rarely goes out, but you wanted to be respectful. he still had a hoodie on, one that was slightly too big on him, and he looked so pretty in it you let him keep it on. still, that didn’t mean you were gonna leave his upper body unattended to.

you lift the thick fabric up, just under his chin, exposing his chest. “you just get better by the second, don’t you?” you spoke before leaning down, paying much attention to those hills of skin. you took this chance to leave dark hickeys, knowing they wouldn’t be seen by public.

and fuck, his tits looked so pretty marked up, nipples wet with your spit, red and erect. he gave grunts and whines at the attention, the muscles in his arms flexing as they held onto you, which pushed the meat of his pecs together. you couldn’t tell if he did that in purpose or not. but, at this point, you couldn’t care. why would you? either way, it was hot.

you went down again, but instead of sucking, you bit into the skin surrounding the bruised nub. not enough to make him bleed, but enough to leave behind imprints of your teeth. he choked on a cry, back arching, effectively pushing his body closer to yours. and he swore he heard a growl vibrate against him, sending chills up his spine. once you pulled away, your lips smother the outline of the bite in kisses.

you grin, now moving on from his chest, finding your way to his thighs. he whines, both because of the hickeys you place and the fact that you deliberately avoided his cock. it was pathetic. the flushed tip drooled onto his abs, twitching at every touch you gave. so sensitive.

you decide to give him what he wants, sort of. you go between his legs, keeping them apart, but instead of going for his dick, you grip onto his hips and position them up, running your tongue over his hole. he almost yelped, hands moving down to grab at your hair. you raise your eyebrows, looking at him. “didn’t expect my tongue, huh? it would make the most sense to start with — it’s already slick, and smaller than my dick and fingers, more flexible.”

the explanation wasn’t exactly unnecessary, bruce slowly nodding as he relaxed a little. you hum at that, getting back to work. you wet his hole, then slipped your tongue inside. your thumbs trace shapes onto his waist, hoping to bring some form of consolation. it was painfully obvious that he was a virgin, so this situation could get overwhelming if you didn’t go slow with prep.

you could hear him gulp, letting out trembling breaths as he tried to figure out what to hold on to. he lands on the sheets below him, needing some sort of stability even though he was already laying down. it felt so new, so different. it was almost awkward, but the pleasure overrides that feeling. he trusted you, somehow, a complete stranger — who has remained unnamed. hell, all he knows about you is that you’re a friend of selina’s and you work at the iceberg lounge as a stripper.

yet, excusing everything, he still trusts you. what the hell is wrong with him?

he couldn’t think to find an answer to that question, mind blurry as you explored his formerly untouched insides.

you allowed yourself to drool as much as you pleased, wanting to get him as slick as possible. he’d clench around your tongue, feeling your spit trail down his ass. your noises were dramatic, but it seemed to turn bruce on more. to know you were so determined to make him feel good, to prepare him for your fingers, your cock, it made him feel excited. the majority of anxiety from before left, because he knew you were here solely for his pleasure.

god, you ate him out like you were starving.

though, that bliss didn’t last much longer, you pulling away and wiping away any saliva on your chin. you stood, leaning over and smashing your lips against his. you didn’t bother keeping it sweet, letting him taste himself. it felt incredible, for both of you. your hand rummaged through a drawer in the nightstand — finding a tube of lube inside, and a condom. you grabbed both. you set the condom aside, opening the lube once you disconnected from bruce.

“i got more than one reason to call you sweet now, huh?” bruce may have been clueless when it came to dirty talk, but he knew what you meant by that. he was quick to agree, not wanting to leave your question, hypothetical or not, unanswered. while he panted, you squirt the lubricant over your fingers, covering two.

you press against his ass, middle finger putting more and more pressure until it pushes past the ring. he chokes on his own spit, attempting to swallow but failing as your nail scrapes his walls. tears form at his waterline, bruce quickly shoving his face into a pillow, ashamed.

“baby, hey, look at me.” he refused, just for a second, before slowly looking back at you — droplets falling down his temple. “that’s it, good.” you kiss them away, then landing on his lips. it was like time had slowed down, as if you had any control over such. but in this moment, you might as well have.

“am i going too fast? should i stop?” he shakes his head no, giving you a pleading look — otherwise known as puppy eyes. bruce didn’t even think he was capable of that. “keep going. please.”

you merely hum, your free hand grasping onto his dick, giving some distraction as your finger dragged in and out of him. eventually, once he had calmed down, you curled it towards his bladder — and fuck, the cry he let out made everything worth it.

you seemed to have hit his prostate dead on, not judging just from his voices heightened pitch, but from how much cum had shot out of his cock. it was a surprise to see, yet was greeted by words of adoration anyway.

another finger prodded at his rim, almost cautiously sliding inside to join the other. a gasp was heard, your palm continuing to stroke his half-hard dick. he’d try to protest, but no words came out. at least, none that were decipherable. the constant stimulation had his hands trembling, reaching for your wrists.

“oh, you can handle it. i know you can. if you can’t take this, then you can’t have my dick..” you trail off, tilting your head a bit, “and that’s the whole reason why you’re here, right?”

his response is subtle, letting you go — only to wrap his arms around your shoulders. he wants you close, to feel your warmth, that much is obvious. you gladly oblige, nudging your nose against his. in this moment, he had forgotten what was happening, until your digits split and scissored his hole.

he almost squeaked, whines broken into small pieces; choppy and weak. a minute passes, maybe more — you had stopped keeping count the second you got into the bedroom — and you deemed him prepped enough. it’s not like either of you could wait much longer.

taking your fingers away, you grab the condom from before and rip it open with your teeth. bruce sat there, clenching around nothing, feeling so unbearably empty.

it was hard to believe he was once in his home, so hesitant to come here, to meet you, to have you inside him just a little over two hours ago. now, all he could think about was you. he couldn’t imagine not having you in his life.

a little odd that he’s become this attached simply because you had the ability to see right through him, to know what he wanted from just a glance. he should be more threatened than anything, but he was rather impressed. it was often hard to tell what he was feeling, if anything at all.

bruce couldn’t stop thinking. you would help with that soon.

what snapped him back into reality was the sudden weight on his rim, and your breath fanning the skin of his ear. “ready?” simple question, really. but, bruce was reluctant to answer. he felt himself shying away.

“baby?” he’d look your way, and seeing that look on your face made his heart skip a beat. despite the fact that you were about to fuck him, your eyes held such softness he had never encountered before.

you didn’t have to say anything else as he nodded, letting out a small “yes”. you checked for doubt, which he shut down quickly. “i want this. please.” he ended it with a kiss, sitting up and initiating. one turned into more, meanwhile your hand helped you inch your way inside him.

you muffle whatever came from his mouth, exchanges sloppy, his dull nails digging into your shoulder blades as his focus scattered. the intrusion was restrained, as he clamped around you every other second. though, he relaxed fully when he realized that he had some sort of control; being in charge of the tempo.

you had bottomed out, and bruce wrapped his legs around your waist, using enough strength to keep you from moving — even if you weren’t going to in the first place. he let out heavy sighs, getting used to having a real cock inside him. his palm rested on his abdomen; where he assumed your dick was.

bit by bit, his thighs loosen their hold on your middle. you hold them, feeling them ease up beneath your fingers. he experimentally moved his ass, testing the waters, and you take that as a sign to move yourself. your motions sync, causing you both to moan softly. coming closer, you slot your head into the crook of his neck, getting into a considerably more intimate position before rolling your hips.

you rock into him, moving both him and yourself in the process, pushing him into the mattress as he clung to you. he took note of the details along your cock, squeezing around you simply to remember every aspect. any vein, any curve, he wants it engraved into his damn brain.

he doesn’t want to forget this night, in case he never gets to experience it again.

he’d attempt to grind back onto you, to assist you somehow, but his move lower body stutters, warmth growing in the pit of his stomach. it wasn’t much of a surprise. it didn’t take much to see how touch starved bruce was, once you got him on his back.

a few more deep thrusts, and he whispered to you, “gonna come, sir,” all you do is continue, pace picking up speed. with you moving with more vigor, he came fast, a fresh coat of cum covering his torso atop the past load.

before he could get overstimulated any more, you pull out, dick still hard as ever. he wanted to tell you to put it back, finish in him, even though you have a condom on — but you thought otherwise. he couldn’t even sit up to see what you were doing, you weren’t going to put him through much more.

you fist your cock, moaning through gritted teeth when you came inside the latex. after doing so, you slip it off, keeping as much as your cum inside.

“hey, baby,” you hold the filled condom for him to glance at, “wanna keep it?” you say this with a smirk, doing this just to tease him. he only groans, a sweaty arm draping itself over his eyes.

you take advantage of his current blindness, flipping the soiled condom over and pouring any cum that would leak out onto his abs. he jolted at the unexpected feeling, not daring to take his forearm away. you only laugh.

“don’t start licking it up until i’m back, pervert.”

#fics by jj #bruce wayne #male reader #x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #batman #batman x male reader #the batman #dom male reader #top male reader

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ghouljams · 9 months

Text

More 1870s Cowboy!Ghost, I saw someone cosplaying his gunslinger skin and lost my mind just a little

Life is quiet here. The sky is wide and blue, the grass is just on the yellow side of green, and the women are as pretty as they are quick with a gun. Well, just the one. Ghost swings off his horse to lead her the rest of the way to the barn.

“Hey, pretty boy!” You call from the back door, “Come have a drink when you finish up.” He’s still not used to the way your smile makes his heart jump. The genuine fondness behind it. Pretty boy. He wouldn’t let anyone else get away with calling him that, just you. You get away with a lot of things.

Most recently it’s been this. A spare drink to drown out the still uncaught bounty. Never mind that he’s hardly trying anymore. There’s hardly time for it with all the work you have him doing. Work he hardly minds when it’s you asking for it. He likes the animals, likes the warm soil of the garden, likes looking over his shoulder to see you going about your own work. Shaking out sheets as you take them off the line or twisting ripe squash from the vine, the way you brush your hand up the back of your neck to wipe away the sheen of sweat, you’re gorgeous. Ghost’s never seen anyone like you.

He takes his time unburdening his horse, putting away tack, checking her stall has food and water. Steeling his nerves. It’s becoming harder and harder to ignore your sweet talk. Eventually he’ll find himself stuck in your honey. Then he can’t say what will happen. Maybe you’ll keep him.

Ghost touches the worn cotton of his mask; thinks of the scars under it, the scars under his skin. Maybe not.

You’re waiting by the back door when he finally makes his way back to the house. You offer a short glass of clear liquor. “You’ll get him tomorrow,” You tell him. Ghost can’t tell if you’re joking or serious. Your usual good humor makes it hard to gauge.

He pushes his mask up to his nose and takes the offered glass, clinking it against yours. You both tip your head backs, let the alcohol slide down your throats. Ghost sniffs, clears his throat against the residual burn. He checks his glass to be sure he got it all, and looks up to catch you staring at him.

“I got something on my face?” He jokes, voice flat as he wipes the wet edge of alcohol off his lip with his thumb.

“No it’s just,” you tilt your head with a smile, “Every time I see you like this I can’t help wanting to kiss you.” Ghost stills, you’re forward but not this forward. “That’s probably silly of me,” your smile falls a little, and he can’t have that. He can’t have you losing hope, losing interest. You’re not supposed to be interested in the first place, but- but he wants you to keep it. Wants you to keep sweet talking him. You can’t give up and let him win. Not when he wants so badly to lose to you.

Ghost grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you to him, leaning down to bring your mouths crashing together. He catches a bit of your smile before you can pucker, a little bit of teeth before he kisses you properly. It's not a perfect first kiss, but it is perfect. You're perfect, so warm and sweet and soft. God you're so soft, how can anyone be this soft? Your lips cushion his and your warmth surrounds him in a way that can't just be physical. You part your lips, draw him in for another kiss and another, a slow slick glide of indulgence. His hand cradles your cheek, and it isn't the last drops of tequila he's savoring when you draw back. Stars, your smile could stop his heart. It nearly does.

Ghost tugs his mask back down over his lips to stop himself from kissing you again. Is he supposed to feel so, so giddy just from kissing someone? He can't push down the smile that bubbles up. Another good reason for the mask.

"I should-" you take a step back, make a noncommittal gesture with your hands. Ghost nods.

"Right, and I should-" he waves towards the barn, both of you smiling like fools for each other.

"Ok," even your voice is soft, so soft. He should kiss you again, he can still feel your lips against his.

"Supper," Ghost tells you, confirms with you. You nod, grip your skirt with giddy fingers.

"Six o'clock," God he wouldn't miss it for the world.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost x oc #oc: goose #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #x oc #1870s!Cowboy #cowboy!ghost #gunslinger!Ghost

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mousy-nona · 3 months

Note

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process.

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover.

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright.

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal).

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface.

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?”

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose.

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!”

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them.

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter.

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it?

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath.

“Very interesting.”

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once.

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened.

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples.

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.”

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –”

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside.

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.”

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.”

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.”

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost.

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair.

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.”

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure.

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess.

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin.

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.”

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers.

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide.

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done.

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.”

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.”

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.”

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide.

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough.

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #duckiedeer #lucifer molts #prompts #asks

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suguru-getos · 3 months

Text

geto suguru in love

a/n: this got hella ✨🌻 poetic 🌻✨ is what i feel but ah well, its sugu baby 🥰🥰❤️ so i was basically listening to the self ship song & i wanted to vomit what i saw/imagined while listening to it :DD

it’s the little things that haunt geto suguru, that make him realize how much he really is falling into the abyss named after you. if you think about it, it’s just a coffee date, yet when you arrive, it feels like cold snow melting under the first glimmer of soaking warm sun, how your white dress does no justice to you, nothing would actually… what could do justice to a greek goddess like you? something does, the studded diamond choker you wear gifted by him looks worthy enough to be on you…

when you smile at him, his heart can feel the thumping stop for a moment, how you flawlessly walk to him, oh how did he get so lucky? it feels like dying & he would die a thousand times for when you smile & look at him like he’s your whole world. it’s torture, the torment of the most masochistic degree… you’re his walking torment.

oh how you need to snap your fingers to break his trail of thoughts, it’s like glass shattering and he rewards you with a smile again. “you’re so beautiful i got lost…” it feels like burning, it’s so many emotions suguru couldn’t possibly fathom all of them in a single life time. too bad he’s going to come after you in every life.

how you giggle, the second most melodious tune he ever heard — how can he stay sane when you’re a walking paradox of happiness & misery for him? so miserable he can’t breathe… so happy he can’t breathe…

he holds your hand, watching your beautiful face bloom like a tulip 🌷 when his thumb caresses your skin, how his eyes set at you, how can anyone be this beautiful? how can he not be enamored?

his eyes dart towards your nails, and his thoughts divert again… he has tasted you, felt you, ravaged you. senses hazy and darkened while his pupils dilate, ravishing your helpless scratching on his back, your brows furrowed & how your head tilts back… lips gnawed & swollen with love written all over you… you’re perfect.

he tries to walk the thin line of sanity again, but his mind is strayed to worshipping you again, how you squeeze down at him, how you touch him, crawling to him on all fours on the mattress, decorated & wrapped like a present in that lacy lingerie…nuzzling your nose against his crotch, unabashed, unflinching with your needs… with your need for him.

oh you snap him again with your forehead flick, chuckling and asking him where he’s so lost? how can he tell you that he was… he’s just been found after you met him, or maybe you’re also lost with him. doesn’t matter anymore; all that matters to him is you. and only you.

now he has to return the favor, no? make you feel just as special as you make him… here he is, leaning against his palm & staring at you like an artist gulping inspiration. you wreck him, absolutely.

another thought races his mind, who else has dared to touch you with their filthy hands…. no. nobody can, and nobody should. maybe some violence is necessary, no-

it’s when you intertwine your hands with him, conversing with a shell of him that his thoughts cascade into something else again, how you gasp out and whisper his name, each syllable in a coaxing manipulation… “su gu ru” the least he can do is to ruin your body, you’ve ruined his soul entirely have you not?

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk smut #geto suguru #geto fluff #geto smut #geto thirst #jjk thirst #geto x reader #jjk x reader

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rowretro · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞

✧IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME✧

✧warnings: drugs, violent descriptions, yandere/toxic themes, harassment mildly suggestive(?), fluffy fluff near da end~ also I think this may be a lil too long, sorry in advance

✧synopsis: Sunghoon is the the most infamous, feared, bad boy alive is on your campus, and no one dares to mess with him or even talk to him. Even girls who would have loved to confess to him, don't dare look in his direction, let alone approach him. Yet he has his eyes on a girl that's far from trouble...

✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧◇✧

After a long time of not coming to uni, Sunghoon, the badboy, returns, only to find a pretty girl in his seat, y/n. He made his way to you, madly as he slammed his palm on the table "oi tiny. this is my desk. get up." he coldly said, satisfied by the startled expression that painted the girl's pretty face. Oh how much he loved that look on your face.

He leaned down towards her, his face close to hers, their noses almost touching, his eyes narrowing into slits as he gritted his teeth "Fucking look at me when I talk to you, shorty" He warned as he lifted his hand to grab onto her chin, forcing her head up. The girl instantly got up, even though there were no empty spots.

Noticing this, Sunghoon pointed to an empty seat beside him with a tilt of his head, his fingers still clutching onto her chin as he let go slowly. "Sit there, and don't fucking bother me or else..." His voice trailed off, threatening without needing to say any more words. He turned back around in his seat, glaring at her with intense hatred, waiting for her to sit down quietly so he could continue studying in peace.

He watched her silently. He couldn't believe how quickly she had obeyed him, and it made him feel even more angry and possessive. He felt like punching something, but instead he forced himself to focus on his studies too. As he did so, he subtly glanced at her every now and then, checking her out of the corner of his eye whenever he thought she wouldn't notice.

Finally, after hours of studying in silence, he put away his notes and looked at her with a smirk on his face. Shorty, you've been quiet all day. "Tired already? Or just trying to avoid talking to me?" Sunghoon asked as he saw the girl yawn. "Huh?" y/n asked in disbelief confused as to why he's talking to her.

He raised an eyebrow at her, amused by her confusion, and leaned closer to her so their faces were almost touching again. "You didn't think I noticed you sitting here quietly all fucking day, did you?" He whispered the last word menacingly into her ear, making her flinch slightly before regaining composure.

"Or maybe you thought you could just ignore me forever?" He laughed coldly, his breath hot against her ear. I don't think that'll work, little miss innocent girl. I always get what I want. Always. Y/n blinked, still confused as to why he's talking to her but also threatened by his tone.

He saw her confusion and hesitation, and his anger flared up again. He grabbed onto her chin forcefully, pulling her face towards his so they were staring at each other. "Listen up, shorty. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you can't pretend I don't exist." He whispered the last words harshly into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"I've been watching you for months, and I know everything about you... your fucking routine, your friends, even your favorite place to buy ice cream." He released her chin and stepped back, looking at her with a mix of rage and lust in his eyes. "And I won't let anyone else have you but me." He added as Y/n's eyes widen in shock.

Not wasting a second, she hastily packed her belongings and ran out of the classroom, the 5 inch high heels were no barrier to her sprint. All the while, Sunghoon just snickerred at how cute she looked, running as if she'd be able to escape. He smirked, loving the shocked expression on her face, and stood up, towering over her as he always did. She never suspected a thing. She never thought he was interested in her. She never thought he was a dangerous yandere. She never thought he was a mafia boss. She never thought he'd kill everyone who got close to her except him.

. . .

She never thought he'd kidnap her and make her his own. She never thought he'd torture her if she ever tried to leave him. "Yeah, that's right, Row. Me. Only me." He said lowly, walking around her before sitting down again, looking at her over his shoulder with a mix of desire and anger in his eyes.

Y/n sniffled, trying to break out of the chains that had tightly trapped her wrists in the fancy frame of the luxorious bed. He saw her sniffling, and his anger subsided slightly, replaced by concern and lust. He walked over to her, crouching down so their faces were level and resting his hand on her cheek gently.

"What's wrong, shorty? Did I scare you too much?" He pretended to be worried, but deep down he loved seeing her scared of him. It made him feel powerful and in control. "Don't cry, okay?" He whispered softly, his voice full of fake concern, but she could hear the underlying threat behind his words. "Your tears only make me want to punish you more."

"can you at least unchain me?... I promise I won't run..." y/n asked, of course she wouldn't run, Its' not like anyone would be waiting for her back home anyway, and she was smart enough to know that running away will only make things worse. Besides, where would she run off to anyway?...

He smiled, pretending to consider her request for a second before shaking his head. "No, Row. I can't unchain you yet." He lied, maintaining his mask of fake concern and worry while secretly gloating internally. "Not until I'm ready. "He leaned closer, speaking in a low voice so only she could hear him.

You see, running would be very bad for you, shorty. Very bad. He winked at her over his shoulder, knowing she couldn't see his wink because of where she was sitting. He loved toying with her emotions, making her feel safe one minute and scared the next. "But don't worry! I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of my precious little Row."

"But the chains really hurt..." she tried to reason, a pout adorning her pretty lips. He heard her complaint, and his fake smile dropped slightly as he maintained his mask of concern. "Of course they hurt, darling" He said, pretending to be surprised by her comment. In reality, he loved seeing her in pain, and he purposely made the chains as tight as possible to torture her mentally.

"But they keep you safe too!" He added quickly, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her comfort at all. "And besides, I wouldn't want my precious little Row getting hurt any more than I want to see her." He winked at her over his shoulder again before turning back to his studies, acting like nothing was wrong while deep inside he was elated that she was suffering for him.

. . .

Weeks passed, and the girl was yearning for him more and more as the days passed by. Sunghoon wanted nothing more that to hold her and kiss her. He saw her pouting, and his heart swelled with love and pride. Even though he was the one who had kidnapped her and planned to make her his own, he could tell she was getting used to him.

He loved that she thought he took care of her because he genuinely cared about her wellbeing. He called her over to him, beckoning her with a finger. "Come here, shorty." He whispered, inviting her closer so he could wrap an arm around her and give her a comforting hug after unchaining her wrists. Behind closed doors, he'd show her how much he cared about taking care of her. "But first, we need to study together." he simply said as the girl frowned.

"Awww I hate studying" she whined as he chuckled, amused by her whining, and pulled her into his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist securely while the other hand began going through his notes. "Be quiet, shorty". He whispered, playfully scolding her while actually being gentle and caring.

"We have to study or you'll fail all your exams, and then where will you be?" He teased, knowing she hated studying and was dumb without him. Without him, she'd be lost. She'd be a lost little sheep without a shepherd. "So shut up and let me teach you, okay?" He asked softly while giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll make it fun for you, I promise." he said with a smile.

"How will you make studying fun?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to face him. He grinned cheekily, thinking of all the ways he could make studying fun for her. "Trust me, shorty. I'll make sure studying is the most fun you've ever had in your life." He winked at her before leaning in close to her ear, speaking low so only she could hear him.

"I'll give you private lessons, and I'll make sure you learn everything you need to know in the most... stimulating way possible." He winked at her again before biting his lip teasingly. "And if you're good, I might just give you some special rewards afterwards." He added playfully, knowing she loved when he gave her rewards. The girl gasped as she picked on his cheeky words, now shy and a little embarrassed, she playfully hit his chest with a pout, and he chuckled with satisfaction.

He noticed her sudden shyness, and it made him even more determined to tease and please her. He loved seeing her blush and act shy around him. It made him feel like he had complete control over her mind and body. "Okay, shorty. Here's your first lesson." He said lowly, starting to explain the material while also using his free hand to stroke her thigh slowly.

He could see her hips start to quiver beneath his touch, and he loved that she was already responding to him even though she was shy. "Pay attention now, or else I'll have to give you a punishment." He threatened light-heartedly while winking at her. Every time she got a question right, the male kissed her lips. making her blush even more at his small actions.

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luveline · 9 months

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aaahhh okay wait imagine Emily is away on a case longer than usual and comes home without telling r to surprise her and sees that reader has been like idk wearing her shirt or sleeping with her pillow or idk just like something to feel close to her

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Emily knows you're in her bed before she's so much as opened her front door. She lives in a nice building across from Washington, DC, in an apartment that glows with the lights of the city. It takes time to get home after a case, but the view isn't one you'd find anywhere else.

She'd fly a hundred hour flight if it meant getting to ch ome home to you. It sounds silly and corny, like a fairytale she didn't believe in, but there's something about you that inspires cliches. Like, your beat up converse arranged neatly so as not to disrupt her tower of high heels and boots. Your coat on the rack with the arms and hood smoothed down, and the way you arrange Sergei's food and water bowls intricately every time you visit because you're aware of Emily's penchant for orderliness.

She knows you're here because of all of these things, but really, she has a freaky sixth sense when it comes to you, and seeing you curled up on her side of the bed cements it perfectly.

She locks her gun away in its safe and puts her shoes and jacket away. Quiet, she slinks to where you're sleeping with the sheets up to your nose and bends down to check you over. She knows nothing has happened since she saw you last, but it doesn't matter. She needs to look at you properly.

You're on your side, face angled down, arm a lump under the sheets. Emily smiles and, despite the singing urge to wipe away the day's faded makeup and brush out curls crunchy with hairspray, lingers, holding her hand up to your face, stroking a short line.

You won't wake from it. Maybe you're a heavy sleeper or maybe you know it's her, but she never wakes you up when she comes home.

Sergei snores little nosed snores from his fluffy bed. Emily laughs as you do the same, though she frets (and she'd deny it if anyone asked, but frets all the same) that you can't breathe with the blankets smushed to your nose as they are.

Gently, she pulls down the sheets.

Her lips fall from their fond smile. Tucked in your arms like a life jacket is a soft white camisole, the last shirt Emily slept in before she left.

She isn't excessively loud about loving you —she isn't quiet about wanting you, but that isn't the same— and you aren't overly forthcoming.

Which isn't to say she doesn't feel loved, Emily knows she's loved in the same way you must know it, with the burning, aching sort of desire that has you pinching her hips when she walks by, or begging her to share a shower with you even if it'll make her late for work. But Emily hadn't realised how much you loved her in this sense. The difference between missing her company and missing the intrinsic smell of her skin is unsaid and yet yawning; you love her enough to curl around a dirty t-shirt. This is the kind of love that grows old together.

Emily's particular about things, but not tonight. Fuck it, she hopes she gets mascara on the silk pillow case as she climbs into bed behind you. Let it be a monument to how she feels, any hint of fatigue replaced with silky soft wanting.

"'Mily?" you murmur, covering her arm where it curves over your waist.

"No," she whispers, "axe murderer. Sorry, babe, welcome to your nightmare."

"I had a good run." You push her back a touch as you roll onto your back, squinting at her through thick-knitted lashes.

"You can sleep. I'll still be here in the morning, I promise."

"Y'here now. Missed you, Emily," you murmur, turning more, vying to hold her waist as she holds yours. You sound a little upset, but that could be the sudden wake up call.

"I'm sorry," she says, smiling at you in hopes of getting one back. "But I'm home early. That's a good thing, right?"

"Can I put my face in your neck?" you ask.

Emily tries to say yes. All she can summon is a mute nod and a tight smile —she's happy, yeah, but she feels strangely like crying. It's a scary thing, finding out how loved you are. Suddenly she has to worry about it being taken away.

You wrap your arms around her, your skin hot with a furnace like heat. Mumbling, your face fits into the curve of her neck, your lips skipping against it as you say, "Love you… you okay?"

Her smile shocks back to life. She presses it to your forehead without hesitation. "I'm fine now. Love you. You can go back to sleep."

"I really really missed you."

Emily feels each word fan against her neck. It's a sensation she's sure she'll remember for years to come. "I missed you, too."

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss scenario #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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harrysbooty · 1 year

Text

jack champion hc’s!

a/n: currently in deep jack champion brain rot… this prob has errors but i’m too tired to care so enjoy!! 💘💘

jack champion! who practically kisses the ground you walk on. in his eyes, you hung the sun, moon, and stars.

jack champion! who saves just about any picture you send him.

jack champion! who lets you talk on and on just because he likes loves the sound of your voice.

jack champion! who could stare at you for hours. (in a loving way, not a creepy weirdo way)

jack champion! who never misses the opportunity to post about you. tiktok, instagram, bereal, anything. trust me you’re on it.

jack champion! who always finds a way to bring you up in any conversation.

jack champion! who loves the feeling of your touch. sexual or non-sexual. i mean physical touch is his middle name.

jack champion! who follows you around like a lost puppy. (seriously even has the puppy eyes and everything)

jack champion! who will learn your favorite song on piano. (yes i fully believe he is a piano guy. no i won’t be taking any comments at this time)

jack champion! who believes you’re it for him. he’ll never find another like you, and to be honest he doesn’t really need to.

jack champion! who calls you any nickname in the book. baby, sweetheart, love, babe, angel, etc. although his personal favorite is baby doll.

jack champion! who is an absolute sap for you and has no shame in showing it.

“bro you’re so whipped.”

“okay and?”

jack champion! who could sit in complete silence with you but still be perfectly content, just because he’s with you.

jack champion! who says i love you almost too quickly. but once he felt it, he couldn’t not say it.

jack champion! who will spam text you 70 times if you don’t answer after the first. oh and don’t forget about the 30+ calls/facetimes.

jack: hey

jack: hello

jack: hi

jack: i’m bored

jack: can u come over

jack: i miss u

jack: hellooooo

jack: are u dead

jack: babe

jack: what if i was falling off a cliff rn

jack: u don’t love me

jack: ANSWER PLS

jack: im actually dead now thx u let me die

jack: HELLO

jack: pls answer me

jack: im sad

jack: i miss u

you: jack i was showering

jack: U STILL LET ME DIE

jack champion! who sends you tiktoks even if you’re sitting directly next to him.

jack champion! who prefers to be little spoon because he likes the feeling of being in your arms. (barf)

jack champion! who makes it his mission to make sure your entire family likes him.

jack champion! who will buy you anything you need because he likes to spoil you. see a necklace you like? expect to get it for your birthday. new dress you saw at a store? already bought.

jack champion! who does anything to make you blush.

jack champion! who is die hard one direction fan. like knows every song. (but let’s be honest don’t we all?)

jack champion! who plays with your hair whenever your head is in his lap.

jack champion! who loves when you play with his fingers subconsciously. it’s something so simple, but it makes his heart soar everytime.

jack champion! who knows your every order from any food place you guys go to.

jack champion! who traces small shapes into your thighs when his head in in your lap. (bonus points for small kisses here and there)

jack champion! who always greets you first before doing anything else when he comes home. (if you’re living together or even just visiting one another)

jack champion! who will kiss any part of you he can. (don’t tell anyone i told you this but his favorite is nose kisses, giving or receiving)

jack champion! who would do anything for you because you’re the best thing to happen to him and he’ll be dammed if he ever lost you. (told ya… mans a sap)

a/n: zoowee she was a lengthy one. pretty pls send in any requests you have for me. i do top gun, obx, jack (just not ethan yet bc i haven’t watched any of the scream movies but i’m getting there i promise). anywho hope u liked :)) smooches 💘💘

#jack champion #ethan landry #jack #champion #scream movies #jack champion headcannons #jack champion x reader

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noroi1000 · 1 year

Text

Honored One Shot no.7 - @loreley-ha

"My Omega"

Yandere Alpha Geto x Omega reader

Omegaverse NSFW: Marking, possessive sex, pheromones

"Do you really think I don't know where my omega goes?"

You heard a voice behind you as you entered the house.

You jumped as warm fingers touched your neck, removing the collar that was covering your neck.

You knew it was Suguru. Because you will know his voice everywhere.

The feeling when he's next to you too.

Throwing his collar to the floor, he put his closed mouth and nose to the bite mark on the side of your neck.

You felt shivers when he did it.

That's what it feels like to be chastised by an alpha.

A feeling that makes you shiver.

Alphas have always been terrible to Omega. But not those who are partners. Suguru is your partner.

However, reaching the sensitive mark on the neck is like initiating sexual contact or possessiveness. Especially when Alphas do it when they're pissed off.

The alpha's possessiveness and scolding can be frequent. It all depends on the character of Alpha.

Your Alpha is possessive.

You are his and only his. His Omega. Only his.

The moment other alphas approach you is when he goes into standby mode.

When an alpha stranger approaches you, he's very careful and pulls you away so you don't get too close.

When it's a familiar alpha to you or him, it allows you a little more freedom, but not that much.

Alpha is Alpha. Just a little bit of your scent and you will become a morsel for some alpha who is nearby.

Even if you already have a partner. Alphas compete. Especially because there are less omegas.

That's why your partner is possessive. Because you're supposed to be his omega and no one else's.

He shows your place now.

Showing you to focus on whose mark is on your neck.

The marks of his teeth. And not anyone else.

He's the one who marked you as his omega. And not someone else. You are HIS omega.

You felt shivers as he exhaled from his lungs at that bite.

It's normal for the omega to be more sensitive around the alpha who is your partner. But he does it on purpose.

To show you your place with him as his Omega.

"I know my omega was seeing some alpha..." He moaned into your ear, holding you possessively in his arms.

When you looked to the side to see his face, you saw his purple eyes almost glow as he stared into yours.

You heard a soft growl coming from his throat as he looked at you.

If he had animal physical features, surely everything would show his displeasure.

Same as now.

"How are naughty omegas punished?" He asked, scanning your gentle eyes with intensity.

Omega so innocent...Alphas never can get angry when they see how their omega has such innocent eyes with them.

Just like you are looking at him now.

He is your alpha. your life partner. You can't look at him with hostility because it's written in your genes that you love your alpha. You don't oppose Alfie. You are really happy with your alpha.

And alphas have more aggression and possessiveness in their genes.

Omegas are so innocent, cute and beautiful.

And he loves his omega. That's why he wants his omega just for him.

Because he is the alpha.

And his omega is everything to him.

"Suguru...?" You giggled softly as a smile appeared on his face.

"Don't be afraid ~. Just you know... You're my Omega. And I don't wanna give you to someone else." He licked your ear, nibbling the earlobe with his tooth. "But little, cute omegas only have a place with one alpha. And you're my omega, baby."

You felt him release some of his pheromones on you.

Your body shivered as you felt hot.

"I need to mark my omega even more, right?" he purred in your ear.

You let out a shaky breath as his hot tongue slid over your bite on your skin.

And you felt more and more of his pheromones insistently attacking your senses to make you a moaning mess and begging for your alpha.

And that was for sure because Suguru's pheromones were so strong and intense.

It was affecting your body, making you a horny mess.

It was the same with him when he felt your heat. He was losing control by spraying you with waves of pheromones. And the omegas can never hold back their alpha partner.

Therefore, the heat is intense for both sides.

Especially when Omega is in heat. Because Alpha becomes aggressive and erratic just to get Omega.

That's why Suguru asked you several times to be very careful about taking supplements.

And his heat is also intense because it's unstoppable. And he closes himself off from you so he doesn't succumb to his instincts when he feels his omega.

Even though he won't hurt you, it's more aggressive sex than ever. Therefore, in order not to expose you to stress, during the most intense time of this he closed himself.

Even though you felt his heat and you were in a similar state.

And he went a little crazy because he smelled the sweet smell of your pheromones.

Same as now.

When you felt his pheromones and started to tremble, asking for his touch. He felt the same way as your body began to emit that sweet scent.

"Omegas are always so polite to their Alphas. And you're so good to me, baby ~. I should mark you again for what you did. I can't be so brutal when you're so meek. But I can't be gentle to make you understand your mistake."

He put his hands under your shirt and your body melted in his hands.

"You smell so sweet ~. My sweet omega~."

As he took off your bottom clothes, he saw your thighs getting wet.

Alpha pheromones are intense... And they immediately tell your body to be turned on for your alpha.

Just like alphas, they are crazy about the smell of omega. In the same way, omegas go crazy when their alphas release pheromones on them.

His hands also grabbed your top clothes, taking it off.

Leaving your body naked and begging to be touched.

He smelled the sweet scent of his omega's excitement, which challenged that predatory instinct in him. Instinct to HAVE his omega here and now.

His pupils dilated and his pants were so tight.

Undoing his baggy pants, he placed your hands against the wall for something to hold on to, and bent you down so he could access your hips. He spread your thighs apart, pressing the thick tip of his cock against your trembling entrance.

Your walls offered no resistance, nor did the rest of your body. And when he managed to slide in easily, he pressed his chest against your back and sank his teeth into the already existing mark on your skin.

Making you howl of pleasure as you felt his scent completely take over your mind. The pleasure you crave.

You want him.

He growled, feeling the pleasure of biting into your skin to leave a mark.

The way you shiver, barely holding on to the wall as your alpha's big dick digs into your insides.

"A-Alpha..." you moaned in a shaky voice as he kept one hand on your hip and the other next to yours on the wall.

Your trembling thighs and whole legs when you stood on tiptoe didn't bother him at all, because if you want your alpha to fuck you, you have to keep it that way. In this position.

But at some point, he's going to keep your body in a mess anyway. His Omega marking is something he wants. For your mutual pleasure, and also for you as a lesson. Because you only react that way to his pheromones.

He started mercilessly digging his hips into yours, leaving marks on your back as he positioned you the way you're supposed to be positioned so he could hit deeper with more accuracy.

So that your legs buckle under you and he can fuck your moaning, melting body in his hands as much as he thinks necessary.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #getou suguru #suguru #geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto x you #yandere geto x reader #omegaverse x reader #omegaverse smut #alpha geto Suguru #omega reader #honored ones event

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