#look at me!!!!! when you’re killing me you look at me!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 3 days

Note

Hi Mae! I've been obsessed with your writing for a while now, ur poly marauders is just perfecttt. The way you write them is just so accurate to my personal characterizations and head cannons :)

I had an idea that I thought would be cute but feel free to ignore if it doesn't inspire you ofc.

I was thinking about poly! Marauders x goth! Reader. Like reader forcing them to watch her favorite horror movies or explore abandoned places or like go to a concert or smtn

Omg and the reader dressing up to go out with them and them just dying cuz the eyeliner and fishnets and everything (who can blame them, goth girls r gorgeous 😍😍)

Thanks lovely!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 927 words

“Is it on me?” James hears the door open, followed by Sirius’ voice, growing shriller. “Is it on me?”

“I don’t think so.” You sound one part amused and two parts exasperated. “Stay still, I can’t look while you’re moving around.”

James leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, too curious to prioritize chores. He finds you both in the entryway. Remus is observing from the couch as Sirius stands rigidly still and you pick through his hair unhurriedly. You’re both covered in dust and what looks to be cobwebs, made even more apparent on you by your dark clothing.

“I thought you were going to drop clothes off at the donation bin,” James says bemusedly.

“We did,” you reply, at the same time as Sirius says, “It was a trap!”

Remus lifts an eyebrow. James is glad he’s not the only one who seems to be missing something.

“There’s an old abandoned church not far from there,” you explain casually. “I wanted to check it out, and Sirius thought it could be fun to explore, too.”

“That was before I knew it housed the world’s largest spider population,” he argues. “Fuck, can someone get this thing off me? If I feel anything crawling I’m gonna flip shit.”

“Aren’t you already?” Remus murmurs. You grin at him, stepping back to let James take over for you.

“I assume I’m taking out the web?” James asks, picking out a piece.

You sigh. “Sirius thought he saw a spider in the car—”

“I know I did, thank you.”

“—and he’s worried it got on him. But I’ve been looking, and I haven’t seen it.”

“I’m fairly sure it would have crawled off by now, love,” Remus says, sitting up on his knees and beckoning you to the couch so he can pull the spiderwebs out of your hair, too.

“All I know is, if no one finds that thing on me, I’m going to take the world’s hottest shower to make sure it’s dead.”

“You’ll have to hurry,” Remus reminds him. “Our reservation is at eight.”

“We can be a few minutes late.”

“We cannot.”

“Fuck!” James jumps a good few feet back, hands frozen in front of him.

“What?” Sirius cries. His shoulders seize up. “What is it?”

“Shit, sorry, it’s nothing. I thought I saw something move, but it was your hair.”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sirius puts his face in his hands, sounding less murderous than teary. “Remus, please.”

“I’ll take care of you next,” Remus replies, dedicatedly combing his fingers through your hair.

James mumbles an apology as he goes back to doing the same thing to Sirius. All in all, you look like you’ve actually gotten the brunt of it. You’re covered in spiderwebs, likely a result of you simply putting far less work into avoiding them than Sirius. You seem unbothered as Remus unsticks a rather large one from by your ear.

You go off to change for dinner first, because Sirius refuses to move until both James and Remus have each checked him over for spiders twice, and even then he still insists upon his shower. James can’t say he’d feel differently in his place.

He thinks he might need a cold shower himself when you come back out.

“Angel,” James breathes. It’s both an endearment and an observation. His eyes stutter their way up you, continually snagging on fishnet tights and kohl-lined eyes and the little lace ruffle lining your top. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“You look lovely,” Remus says, smooth where James is not, and you grin as you lean down to kiss him on the cheek. A pink tinge rises up from beneath your boyfriend’s freckles and scars. When you lift your lips, you leave a dark imprint of lipstick behind that James has absolutely no intentions of telling him about.

“So do you,” you say, as though he’s not wearing the exact same thing he was a minute ago. (Though James is nonetheless inclined to agree. Remus always looks lovely.) Your eyes turn to James, the black liner making them look deeper and even more striking than usual.

“You do, too,” you tell him. He feels a flock of butterflies (do butterflies have flocks?) scare into flight in his stomach.

His grin feels wobbly, but certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. “Thanks,” he manages.

“So, I was talking to Sirius in the bathroom,” you say, sitting on the arm of the couch. James’ eyes follow the movement of your skirt, the way it rides up with the motion. He warms in several places. “He says that if the spider’s not on him, it has to be in the car. He won’t get in it until we’ve checked.”

Remus exhales heavily through his nose, and you nod your agreement.

“I’m not convinced he actually saw anything,” you say. “He is so paranoid.”

“Or maybe you,” James leans over to kiss your cheek, unable to restrain himself any longer as he reaches around you to squeeze the fat of your hip, “are just far too even-tempered from watching so many horror films.”

“No, he’s paranoid,” Remus agrees with you, groaning as he gets up. “I’ll check the car. If I don’t find anything, we’ll just say we caught it.”

“I’ll help.” You slip off the arm of the couch, starting after him with springy steps.

James follows, if only so he can stand behind you and keep you from flashing the next-door neighbors when you bend over to look. It’s strictly selfless.

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5sospenguinqueen · 3 days

Text

Bright Lights, Big City | Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando and his girlfriend enjoy their first non-F1 related holiday together in NYC.

Warnings: Swearing. Suggestive comments.

Female reader. Faceclaim Loey Lane

Requested by Anon. "can u do a lando x plus size reader smau of them spending time in nyc. also if it’s not too much to ask can the fc be loey lane please"

Sorry it's not very long but it was hard to find plus!size images, most of them were actually gorg mid!size girlies.

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName say i’m turning big girls into hoes, oh goddamn

641 comments

User1 as you should be! empower the big girls

landonorris yes, ladies and gentleman, that is MY girl

→ maxfewtrell yes, lando, we all know. we’ve all known for the past year

→ landonorris just making sure some of these men don’t forget it

User2 she absolutely killed the light hair. i don’t know why she had to go darker

User3 i love you so much. you’ve made me learn to love my body so much more

→ YourUserName comments like this make me cry. you should love your body! 🤍

User4 how do you look stunning in everything you wear

lilymhe the dark hair suits you so well

→ YourUserName thank you for making sure it didn’t stain my face

→ lilymhe part of my role as your full-time wife

→ alex_albon whoa, hold up

→ YourUserName you can’t claim her. where’s her ring, albon

→ User5 takes notes, norris

User6 is lando really dating her?

→ User7 i know. we were all shocked that he managed to bag such a hottie

→ User6 i meant, he seems like he could do better

→ User8 we know what you meant and you’re wrong

→ landonorris @ user8 agreed

User9 i love how you can tell that lando still has control over his insta because he is usually the first to comment on his girl’s posts unless he’s actually in his race car

→ User10 and the fact that he never fails to comment in her defence

User11 i’ll pay you to step on me

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landonorris just posted

liked by pierregasly, lnfour and others

landonorris NYC has been a blast tagged: YourUserName

2,906 comments

User12 this was such a calm caption for lando. has the pr team finally gotten to him?

YourUserName pretty boy

→ User13 i bet he’s blushing, kicking his feet right now

→ maxfewtrell can confirm

→ landonorris @ YourUserName you could spit on me and i’d thank you

→ User12 nevermind… pr hasn’t got him

User14 the crumbs he’s feeding us of him and y/n. that pic is so cute but we need more

User15 okay but that second picture 🥵 everyone say thank you y/n

YourUserName that view looked even better when you had me pressed against the window

→ landonorris 😉

→ User16 these two are prs biggest nightmare

→ oscarpiastri can confirm

User17 no boy should be allowed to look this pretty

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo can’t believe you took HER and not me

→ YourUserName it’s been a year, you need to move on now, daniel

→ danielricciardo homewrecker!

→ landonorris i’ll always cherish what we had

→ danielricciardo liar!

→ YourUsername @ maxverstappen1 come collect your man

liked by kellypiquet

User18 petition for the backwards cap to stay forever

→ User19 signed

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxfewtrell, landonorris and others

YourUserName when visiting the big apple

766 comments

landonorris bark bark woof woof

→ mclaren this is why you keep getting pulled into pr meetings

→ User1 nurse, he got out again

User2 i swear this girl changes her hair colour more than i change your underwear

→ User3 well, at least we know somebody on this post isn’t getting laid

User4 is there any colour you don’t suit

YourBFF i knew when i convinced you to buy that bodysuit that you would look hawt in it

YourBFF2 i am no better than a man 🍒👀

charles_leclerc forza ferrari!

→ landonorris no!

→ YourUserName sorry charles but i’m contractually obliged to say papaya forever

→ alex_albon i knew he forced you to sign a contract to be his girlfriend

→ georgerussell63 no way she would date him otherwise

francisca.cgomes oh my, i seem to have dropped something 🩲🩲

→ pierregasly excusez-moi

→ YourUserName you heard her. she’s my kiks now

lilymhe i think you dropped something. my jaw

→ francisca.cgomes caption buddies!

→ lilymhe mine was more pg13

→ YourUserName the difference between love and lust

landonorris look as much as you want ladies and gents but don’t forget that i’m the one who gets to take it off at the end of the night

→ carlossazin55 i miss when you talked like this about me

→ YourUserName @ landonorris how many boyfriends do you have

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName i finally got to see my first broadway musical!!

844 comments

User5 how exciting. what did you see?

→ YourUserName chicago! i let it serve as a warning to lando

→ User6 queen behaviour

→ User7 lando norris seeing a broadway play was not on my 2024 bingo list

→ YourUserName i think he enjoyed it more than i did

→ landonorris don’t tell people that! i have a reputation

→ User8 no you don’t pookie

User9 personally i think you should become a full-time photographer. these pics are amazing

lilymhe xoxo gossip girl

→ YourUserName you know you love me

User10 i can’t believe lando norris and y/n y/l/n are in new york city the same time as me

→ User11 they were watching the same play as me and i missed them!

User10 i saw them walking around central park and the way he looks at her

→ User11 literally. he didn’t let go of her hand the entire time

→ User12 i love the fan that got a video of him tripping over a tree root because he was too busy looking at her

alexandrasaintmleux now charles is complaining that i don’t take him to see musicals

→ YourUserName i probably shouldn’t tell him about the harry potter one then

→ charles_leclerc THE WHAT?!

→ User13 you summoned him

User1 this so cute. lando really is the blueprint

User2 yes, queen. get a guy who is more obsessed with you than you are of him

landonorris you were gone half an hour! i turned around and you had vanished, and i couldn't find you!

→ YourUserName the hot dog guy saw my mclaren hoodie and asked me if oscar piastri was my favourite driver. then we ended up talking about how much that lando norris guy sucks

→ User3 somebody please tell me this is real

→ maxewtrell yes it is. i was there. the poor guy had no idea who she was. it was hilarious

→ YourUserName i made a friend

→ oscarpiastri piastri for the win!

→ landonorris @ YourUserName how could you even joke about this. no sex for you tonight

→ YourUserName babe, like you could last a night without sex

User3 i love her ability to make lando seem like just some guy who simps for his girlfriend and not THE lando norris

→ User4 no literally, you see them together and she’s always ✨her✨ and then he’s just there

→ User5 that’s because she overshadows him. literally

→ User6 how about you shut the fuck up and stop posting shit on the internet from mommy’s basement just because no girl will touch your dick

User7 they’re feeding us this week

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landonorris just posted

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and others

landonorris 🧡💛

3,001 comments

danielricciardo you two are so cute. it makes me want to kill myself

→ landonorris do you want us to tell you that you have so much to live for

→ danielricciardo @ maxverstappen1 he’s being mean to me

→ maxverstappen1 please apologise or i’ll have to listen to him crying all week

YourUserName i love you so much 🩵 thank you for the most amazing weekend x

→ landonorris i love you the mostest 🥰

→ User8 guys, they’ve said the L word!!

alexandrasaintmleux you two are such a cute couple

→ charles_leclerc not as cute as us though

→ YourUserName i’m a bigger harry potter fan than you

→ charles_leclerc you take that back!

lilymhe @ francisca.cgomes we’ve lost her

→ francisca.cgomes and to a vroom vroom boy, no less

→ lilymhe the horror

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly should we be offended?

→ pierregasly about losing our girlfriends or being called vroom vroom boys?

→ YourUserName my girlfriends

georgerussell63 i don’t think that last pic is pr approved

→ mclaren it’s not but we’re letting it slide because they're cute

YourUserName wait a second, did you scribble over the logo on my shoes

→ landonorris can’t be posting unsponsored brands, babe

oscarpiastri i don’t think i ever needed to know you like that

→ landonorris you’ve seen worse

→ oscarpiastri and heard! i keep asking zac to make sure we don’t have hotel rooms next to each other, and each time i’m let down

User9 okay but your OTP could never

User10 they really are the hottest couple

User11 i want them both to step on me

User12 lando norris, the man that you are

User13 he could run me over with his car and i would thank him

liked by YourUserName

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dwaekkicidal · 2 days

Text

The Easy Way vs The Hard Way

˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)

MDNI!! smut below the cut

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

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I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!

After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”

So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?

‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”

“You think you do that anyways?”

He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”

You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.

He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”

You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.

"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.

Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."

"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"

"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."

"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"

Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”

“You think you do that anyways?”

His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.

He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.

Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.

He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."

He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.

A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.

In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.

He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.

This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.

"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"

Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.

"There we go..."

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Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

#sian’s writing #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x reader smut #bang chan imagines #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #chan imagines #skz x reader #skz x reader smut

354 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 3 days

Text

sweet irony

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

you stare down at your phone – the picture of you and sukuna cheesing into the camera staring back at you – as the quiet pulsating starts teeming in your head.

he’s dead. you’ve wished him dead for years, hundreds of times in passing, and now he’s actually dead.

and now you’ll have to tell yuuji.

you take a beat before walking back into the sweltering hot air of the bar, the blaring music making your heart race as you push through the crowd. and it takes you twenty minutes before you reach the table where yuuji is again, standing still to watch as he leans his head against megumi on the stool, while nobara finishes off the last of his drink.

you can’t help but pause, your heart sinking into the deepest pits of dread, as he digs the cherry in the drink out of the ice, as you walk up to his side, shaking at his shoulder.

your dad is dead.

“hey, you’re back! do you want the another?” yuuji asks, the stem of the cherry sticking out of the side of his mouth as he holds a shot glass in front of your face, almost tauntingly,

“no, no. um –”

your dad is dead. your piece of shit dad is dead and you have to leave.

you take the glass from him, accidentally slamming it down too hard on the table to the point where it shatters, as yuuji looks over at you, eyes wide. there’s a quiet gasp as almost everyone around you gives you a weary look, before turning back to their own conversations.

you look down at your hand, the smallest amount of crimson red staring back at you, as you ball your hand into a fist and ignore it.

“jesus. you okay, she-hulk?” he asks.

you look back up at him.

“yeah, it’s fine. we have to go home.” you respond.

“what? don’t tell me you’re going to start being a bore now that you’re old. we just got here and we’re not leaving until sukuna is dragging all four of us out on our asses.” yuuji responds, earning him a laugh and a smile from nobara and megumi.

“just come with me. we can talk on the way.” you respond, reaching for his wrist as you start pulling.

“we’re celebrating your birthday! after someone ruined it, mind you…” yuuji jokes, pulling you back towards the table.

“shut up! how was i supposed to know that maki and mai were going to make a scene?” nobara mutters.

“you literally started the fight, nobara.” megumi mutters.

“and i apologized for that!” nobara responds, reaching over to flick megumi in the side of the forehead.

you place your hand on yuuji’s bicep, squeezing hard, as you feel hot tears in your eyes and an almost soreness in your throat – knowing that whatever you say next is irrevocably about to change something for him as you lean forward.

“yuuji. your dad passed away, we…we have to go.”

megumi and nobara turn their heads, the former spilling the drink in his glass all over the table.

“what?” yuuji asks.

yuuji subconsciously pulls his arm back, eyes incredulous as he looks down at you.

“yuuji. really, i…”

“what did you just say?” megumi asks.

“i…i don’t know how it happened, sukuna was so brief on the phone when he asked us to come that..”

“wait, what?” nobara says.

“sukuna. he called me and asked me to bring yuuji back. or both of us, i don’t..”

you watch as yuuji digs his phone out of his pocket – a plethora of calls from both sukuna and his mom shining on his screen – as he scrolls through the texts, before he looks back up at you and swallows hard.

“i had more to drink than you did.” he responds, his voice stiff as gravel.

the look in his eyes is haunting. his dad is dead.

“i’ll bring the car around.” you respond.

“megumi. go with her. sukuna would kill me if he found out i let her walk out there alone.” yuuji responds, his focus halfhearted as he looks down at his phone, dialing his mom’s number as he presses the phone against his ear.

his dad is dead. he needs a second.

megumi gives you a curt nod before linking in his arm with yours and pushing his way through the crowd, uncharacteristically rough as the two of you run out the doors. and you’re both speed walking down the block, hands shaking as you pull open the doors of the car, and shove the key into the engine.

“oh god, his mom is probably losing her shit. she’s going to be a mess when we get there, megumi.” you mutter.

you pull out of the spot, fighting the urge to honk at the hounds of pedestrians that cross, as you nervously twiddle your fingers on the wheel.

“sukuna’s probably there, alone, right now.” you mumble.

you feel your throat dry.

“i hope that…that his dad’s not still there when we get there. i don’t even..”

“i’m not coming.” he whispers..

you accidentally push the break too hard and the car jolts, shooting megumi an apologetic smile as one of the groups of pedestrians flip you off.

megumi notes that what he said came out a little more harshly than he intended it to, but it’s only because of his frustration, and what the questions he knows are going to follow after.

“what? of course you are, he’s…”

“i mean, i can’t.”

you frown.

“of course, you can. in fact, you should. he’s your boyfriend.”

it takes a split second for you to realize why yuuji’s always so defensive when it comes to you and sukuna. surely megumi can’t be serious.

“y/n.”

“megumi. you spend like every waking second with the guy. what’s your issue now?” you seethe.

“i’m not going to make things more complicated by meeting his mom for the first time on the night she became a widow, y/n.” megumi responds.

you swallow hard, the soreness in your throat making your eyes water, as you give him a nod and clench the steering wheel so hard that it makes your skin nearly break.

of course that’s why he couldn’t go. you’re an idiot.

the stinging on your palm from the glass only gets worse as you pull up outside the bar, and honk twice for good measure.

“one thing, y/n.” megumi states.

“what?”

“i know that sukuna is your person. but yuuji’s mine. please don’t forget to be there for him too.” he begs.

you reach forward, squeezing megumi’s hand in yours.

“of course i won’t forget about him. i’ll send you updates, okay?” you whisper.

he gives you a nod as yuuji and nobara come tumbling out of the front door a few minutes later, nobara pressing him into a hard hug before letting ago, and rubbing at her biceps in the cold. and it gets even worse as you watch megumi and yuuji – being so openly affectionate while not being black out drunk for the first time – as they lean their foreheads against each others, before kissing goodbye.

the entire car shifts as yuuji sits in the car, eyes teary and sniffling as he looks over at you, and nods.

“let’s go.”

it feels wrong to leave megumi behind, but you do it anyway.

it takes an hour and a half to get there. yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet, leaning his head against the glass of the window, as you try to drive as fast as you can on the highway. your headache, the dread, the stinging in your hand – it all seemed to get worse as time goes on, as you get closer to your house, and to whatever’s waiting for you.

halfway through you offer yuuji your uninjured hand, which he takes, and doesn’t let go of as the two of you walk to the porch.

“wait.” yuuji whispers.

“what? what is it?”

yuuji pauses, heaving a sigh before he looks at you, eyes watery.

“i want one more second of normal before…before i…”

“of course, yuuji.” you mumble back, leaning forward to tuck yourself into his embrace, his arms shaking as he wraps them around you.

and you get what he means – you can feel your heart sink as you hear the raised voices, and what you’re sure is mrs. itadori’s wailing, as you squeeze yuuji harder.

“you’re always so warm, y/n.” yuuji mumbles.

you give him a smile as you pull back and ring on the doorbell. and it’s a split second before

sammy swings the door open, eyes wide as she wraps her arms around yuuji first.

“hey kid. you okay?” she murmurs.

“yeah, sam..”

“the moms and sukuna are in the dining room. go, go.” she whispers, rubbing his back once more for good measure before pushing him in the right direction.

and then sammy looks back at you, giving you a smile, before she immediately crumbles into a mess of tears.

“holy shit, y/n. i’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

you open up your arms, taken aback by the mess of her braid and the state she’s in, as she tucks herself into your neck, her tears spilling onto your skin. and you rub circles into her back in unison with her panting breaths, before gesturing for her to explain.

“he just collapsed out of nowhere. i was in the fucking bathroom for gods sake and i just heard them shouting before…before mrs. itadori literally screamed bloody murder…i just came out and..” she whispers.

you squeeze her a little bit harder, her cries getting stifled into your shoulder as you whisper into her ear, trying to calm her down.

“sammy.” you whisper.

“his pulse was gone. i did cpr for twenty minutes before they got here and they said there was nothing i could have done. i’m a fucking nurse, for fucks sake, and i just…i don’t even…”

“you did what you could have.” you murmur.

you can tell that she doesn’t believe you. and that she’s in some kind of shock from the way her eyes are so lifeless – the only thing convincing you that she's still really there with you being the quiet breaths that leave her mouth.

after ten minutes of holding her, she pulls back, wiping at her nose.

“i can’t believe he’s dead.” she mutters miserably.

“me too.”

“is…am i shitty for being upset? he’s an asshole but…but he was around for so long and well –”

“no, sammy. we’ve known him forever.” you affirm. .

“you should check on sukuna, by the way. they asked him questions for a while when he got here, because…because mrs. itadori and i were too hysterical. mom helped but she didn’t know most of the stuff and..”

you wonder if he had been afforded time to cry yet. though you knew how these things go and that somehow, he’d be the last one to get the privilege to process it all.

“okay, come on.” you respond, the two of you linking your arms together as you walk into the dining room.

you feel your heart pinch as you walk into the dining room – at the sight of both mrs. itadori and yuuji crying – with sukuna’s hand slung across yuuji’s chair. there’s an almost…gaunt look on sukuna’s face, devoid of any emotion, as he only locks his eyes with yours in recognition, before turning his attention back to yuuji.

you give a small wave to your own mother, who gives you a halfhearted smile, before placing a she places a glass of water in front of yuuji and mrs. itadori, and taking the seats next to them.

sammy’s crying at your side again, quietly muffling her own tears into your shoulder, as you squeeze at her side, before setting her down in the chair before leaving to get her water. and it’s only in the kitchen that you realize that the inner part of your hand is a bloody mess, with the stained red going all the way down to your wrist, as you walk over to the sink.

“what happened?”

you nearly jump to find sukuna at your side, leaning over your shoulder as he eyes the red in the sink, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, the wetness dripping onto his shirt.

he doesn’t hug back. he’s softens underneath you, his shoulders less stiff, but he doesn’t hug back.

“nothing. it was just a glass back at the bar. you…what happened to you? are you okay? what can i do to help because i know that…”

sukuna leans back, offering you a halfhearted smile, before reaching for the closest drawer and pulling a glass box of bandages and alcohol wipes out.

“let me clean it.”

you frown before holding your hand out for him, watching as he quietly opens the packet, and gently cleans the area, before wrapping it in a white bandage. and when he touches the inner portion of your wrist, he looks up at you before placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“you’re running hot.” he states.

“it’s warm in here.” you respond.

“it’s not. you’re getting a cold.”

yuuji’s comment from earlier makes sense now. you sigh, noting the soreness in your throat feeling almost swollen now, as you shake your head at him.

“really. what can i do to help? i know this is a lot and…” you mumble.

you’re unable to place the expression on sukuna’s face. it’s almost like he cringes.

“i’m right here.”

“can you stay with yuuji?” he asks.

you pause.

“what?”

that’s not what you had in mind.

“we have to do the funeral sooner than later. saturday is our best bet with everyone having work off so i have to pull shit together, really fast. and i can do it, but…but not while dealing with both of them. can you stay with him? please?”

the question dies on your tounge. what about you?

“yeah, of course i can, but –”

sukuna nods, before placing a bottle of nyquil in your uninjured hand.

“take this twice a day.” he responds, squeezing your shoulder once as he retreats back out to the main room.

you don’t see sukuna for two days. or well, you do, but he’s always preoccupied. not really there. on the phone with the funeral planner, comforting his mom, or dealing with the hospital bills and belongings that were left behind.

he declines your offer to sleep with him, because he sleeps on the floor in his moms room. he doesn’t eat the breakfast you because he has to go pick out the flowers – and doesn’t make any jokes about how he’d save himself from the food poisoning before eating your food.

it’s just as well you suppose, because you really do get a fever, and staying with yuuji takes up enough of your time.

unlike the former – a solid fortress of almost nothing – yuuji swings between two moods, either being awfully quiet and insatiably angry.

you’re not sure which one is better. the lack of babbling from yuuji is haunting in every situation – but it’s so hard to discern what it is that he’s feeling that sometimes all you can do is crawl into his bed with him and stare at the ceiling together.

you were half convinced that it did nothing until the second day, when yuuji offered you a thank you for the silence before trotting off to shower.

the anger is a little bit easier to handle. only because whatever it is that he is feeling comes pouring out of his mouth so freely that you’re at least able to pinpoint what it is that makes him mad.

that he’s dead. that he died without changing. that he won’t ever change and that in the grand scheme of things, yuuji’s history will always be murked by a shitty, homophobic asshole.

“he’s such a fucking prick.” yuuji mutters, angrily slamming the door of his closet, as you readjust on his bed.

was. he was such a prick.

“and why the fuck is my mom crying so much? god knows how many bottles of wine she’s fucking drank trying to temper the fucking rage he filled her with. she should be happy that she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore.”

yuuji looks over at you, quickly handing you the tissue that you were reaching for, before returning to his rant.

“like grow a fucking spine. she’s making sukuna do everything. he’s only fucking twenty-five, for fucks sake. all i’ve watched her do is fucking ball her eyes out and lie down on that god damn couch while he plans the entire funeral and spends lal day calling god knows who.”

yuuji’s nervous pacing makes the jacket of his suit fall off of the hanger, his irritation clearly getting worse, as you lift your hands, gesturing for him to take a seat as you reach for it. you lift it off the floor, sling it back onto the hanger and make a mental note to steam the crease before the funeral tomorrow, before turning back to him and taking a seat at his side.

you lean your head on his shoulder, as he brings his hand up to your hair, tangling through the knots.

“i wish megumi could be here.” he mumbles, voice quiet.

“me too. i…sammy and i actually talked to your mom about it and..” you start.

“i know. sukuna told me.”

yuujji pauses, running his fingers over the pink skin on your palm, before sighing.

“it’s nice but, he’d probably roll over in his grave if megumi came.” yuuji states.

“he’d probably get out of his casket just to yell at you one more time.” you mutter.

yuuji laughs, the sound making you smile.

“and then he’d see you sitting in between me and sukuna and slut shame you one last time for good measure.” he adds.

“and then probably have a second heart attack when he sees sammy sitting there with mai.”

the two of you stare at each other blankly before bursting out into laughter, albeit a little bit too uncontrollably, as you reach to shut the door to stop everyone else from hearing.

“oh my god. i fucking forgot about that. he’d probably have an aneurysm if he found out sammy was bi.”

“he would fully go into septic shock. he’d probably something strangely homoerotic and spend twenty minutes trying to convince her that everyone was a little gay.”

“holy shit! i totally forgot he said that. and then he’d somehow blame me for it. like i made her gay somehow by rubbing it off on her.”

you snort.

“and naturally, he’d start yelling at our moms too. saying that they let us all be a little too wild when we were kids and that’s why we’re all ungrateful..” you add.

“i believe his preferred term of endearment was ungrateful little assholes. and don’t kid yourself, according to him, the root of all evil can – and always will be – traced back to me. ”

the two of you turn your heads to the doorway, to where sukuna’s standing. you jolt up at the sight of him, his eyes red and tired, as you look up at him, giving him a smile.

“hi sukuna. how are –”

sukuna sticks the back of his hand against your forehead, clearly bothered by how warm you’re still running, before dropping his hand. his fingertips trail down your skin, the length of your elbow to your fingers, before he presses the bottle into your hand.

“antibiotic for five days. if you still feel bad, then an extra two days.” he states, holding the water out in front of you.

it’s the same as the time yuuji punched you. he’s uncharacteristically inexpressive, but still attentive.

“when did you have time to go?”

“i had to get his clothes from the hospital. and his phone and the car keys, they were all in his pocket.”

“thank you. do need anything from me?”

“still have nyquill?”

he avoids the conversation, like he always does, in the rare seconds you’re allowed to speak to him.. you pretend it doesn’t sting.

“yes.”

sukuna leans forward, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear, before turning to yuuji.

“day after tomorrow, up at six both of you. the funeral starts at seven and we’ll be back here after for the condolences.”

“got it.” yuuji responds and you nod.

sukuna disappears as fast as he showed up.

and while you felt like you were isolated in the feeling – that he was slipping away, on another planet from you when he was only two doors down – you and yuuji talk about it the night before the funeral.

“does it bother you?” yuuji asks.

you can’t sleep the night before and neither can he – the two of you cramped up in his tiny bed and staring at the tiny glow in the dark stars you pressed to the ceiling years prior. they’re peeling off, half of them already having fell into the crevices between the bed in the wall years ago.

“your dad?” you murmur.

“no. sukuna.”

“what do you mean?”

“does it bother you that he won’t let you help him?” yuuji asks.

you sigh, mulling over the thought in your head. of course it bothers you. you felt like you were failing the most important test.

“i’m not saying that in a shit talking type of way. i just meant…as an observation. as a friend.” yuuji adds.

you smile.

“i know. i guess it does. i just feel like we made really good progress and that…that i’d at least tumbled down most of his walls. but every time i see him, it kind of feels like they’re back up. maybe even worse than before.”

“what do you mean?”

“he was always a little reserved but it didn’t take much to get him to open up. he’d always give in when i asked. but he just kind of brushes me off now. i’m not mad about it, because i understand, but i wish i could just do more.” you respond.

yuuji readjusts, leaning over on his side, to look at you. and you mimic his actions till the two of you are facing each other, cheeks pressed into the pillows as you try to make out the features of his face.

“don’t take it personally.” yuuji responds.

you sigh.

“really. in my experience, he…he’s never been able to let go until things are fully settled.”

“that’s what scares me. your dad isn’t going to stop being dead.” you whisper.

yuuji nods.

“he won’t leave you.”

“i know that. i just need him to come back to me.” you respond.

yuuji readjusts under the sheets. there’s a quiet beat before he talks again.

“will you stand with us at the condolences tomorrow? i think he’d like it if you were nearby. and god knows i need someone to stand there with me.”

“of course, i will.”

almost every person you’ve ever known seems to cycle through their house the next day. the funeral was crowded and you luckily for you, you were stuck for the most part, with sammy on one side and yuuji on the other, so you were able to avoid it.

but the house was different. in a swimming sea of black, you and yuuji have awkward sets of interactions every few minutes. your third grade teacher, the hostess who kicked the two of you out of the sushi restaurant once, and the weird guy who gets drunk every thursday at the district.

this town was way too small.

yuuji sees nobara at the door, giving you a go ahead to go find where sukuna was lingering, as you start making your way through the halls. and it takes a few minutes, but you find him in the kitchen, tucking the envelopes and letters into the drawer as he reaches for his tie and loosens the knot.

“hi.”

you watch as he immediately stiffens, sharply turning his head to the left, before releasing.

“oh. hey. i thought you were someone else.”

“nope! just little old me.” you respond.

sukuna pauses, slowly closing the drawer, before turning to you and cupping the side of your face. you welcome the touch – your chest panging at how long it’s been since you’ve even seen him, let alone touched him – before pressing a kiss to his palm.

“do you feel better?” he asks

“yeah. thank you.”

he gives you a halfhearted smile, before dropping his hands down your back and securing his hand around your waist. you lean into his touch, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking in the scent of his cologne.

“i have to go back out.” he mumbles.

“i know.” you respond.

he looks down at you, giving you a smile, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. you give him a smile, before he leans down and squints his eyes at you.

“been far too long since i’ve kissed you, hasn’t it?”

“what?”

“you’re blushing. and i just kissed your forehead.”

you laugh, lightly trying to shove him away. but he’s too fast, hands on your waist before he leans forward, fully smiling this time and pulling you closer. it’s the first one you’ve seen in days. it makes your heart ache.

“it’s normal to blush when your boyfriend kisses you.” you defend.

he shakes his head, playfully poking at the side of your cheek before dropping his hand.

“you’re always greedy. so greedy that you got so used to it. i usually have to rile you up in five different ways before i see that pretty flush creep down your neck.”

“you’re a pervert. read the room.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“i am reading the room. you and i are the only ones in it.” he deadpans.

“every person we know is outside.” you whisper.

“come on. one kiss and i’ll go back.” he whispers back.

“sukuna.”

“please.”

you roll your eyes before placing both of your hands on his cheeks and leaning forward. and as many comments as you made about reading the room and trying to deny it, you’re way too excited to lean forward – nearly smacking your nose into his – as you lock your lips with his.

but it’s nothing like you expected.

because while he was joking a few minutes prior, the kiss is so soft, dripping with longing that it takes you by surprise. it reminded you of the quiet moments – when he’d trace the freckles on your cheek or press kisses to your knuckles before bed – so overwhelming, so intimate that you felt like he had creeped up inside of you.

when you flicker your eyes open, his eyes are filled with tears.

“i’m sorry for avoiding you.” he whispers.

“that’s okay, you…”

“i knew this would happen if i was around you for too long.” he responds.

you pause, taken aback by his words.

“what?”

“i wouldn’t be able to keep it together.” he responds, voice cracking as the tears start spilling down his cheeks.

you frown, reaching forward to wipe the wetness away.

“you don’t have to keep it together.” you whisper.

“we both know i do.” he responds, his gaze wavering to the floor.

you feel your heart drop, at the mere premise, before pressing yourself closer to him, feeling him sag nearly his entire weight onto you. he presses a kiss on your shoulder that makes you shiver.

“can we please talk when we go home? just a few more days before…”

“yeah. just you and me, okay?”

he nods, lifting your hands against his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"don't be hurt if I avoid you."

"you could never hurt me. i know whatever you do, there's a reason for it."

sukuna groans, before leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"you're perfect, you know that?"

you give him a teasing grin, before shrugging.

"i can't help it." you joke.

he smiles, before leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips.

“make me a promise.” he whispers, a slight strain in his voice.

“okay.”

he swallows hard.

“you can’t die.”

you lean back, pressing your hand into the softness of his hair, before looking at his brown eyes, so full and expectant as they wait for an answer.

“of course not.”

“you’d take me right with you if you did. you can’t.” he begs.

you give him a smile.

“i won’t. i promise, ryomen.” you respond, reaching forward to cross on his heart.

he gives you a shaky sigh, before nodding and pressing one last kiss to your cheek before exiting back out.

and you thank your lucky stars. he came back.

you smack nobara in the back of the head when you make your way back to her and yuuji. because not only are yuuji and nobara nursing two glasses of red wine, but they’re also emptying her trusty hot pink flash into the glass when people aren’t looking.

“are you insane?” you whisper.

“do you want a sip?” yuuji asks.

you immediately take the glass from his hand, earning you laughs from the two of them, as the three of you lean against the wall, watching everyone mill around the room. as irritating as the guy was, mr. itadori was really only all types of heinous and horrible with those closest to them.

to the community, it was a grave loss. and there wasn’t a dry eye in the room – except from the three people it was probably expected from the most.

you could hear the whispers. they were so strong. you fight the urge to laugh in their faces. it was the understatement of the century.

sammy joins you on the wall after an hour of mingling, an awkward jostle between her and nobara, before the two of them were sharing their glasses and muttering under their breaths about how insane maki and mai were.

“funerals are weird.” yuuji mumbles, leaning his head against yours.

“how so?”

“these two idiots were fighting at your birthday like a week ago. and no one’s even batting an eye that mr. johnson is sitting with his mistress while his wife gets drunk in the corner.”

“that’s not his mistress. she was blonde.”

“bold of you to assume there was only one.”

you shiver in disgust, earning you a laugh from yuuji, as you finish off the last of his glass. except that’s right when sukuna walks up to you, eyes panicked as he takes the glass from your hand and sets it on the table.

“hey baby.” he whispers.

“hi sukuna. want some of our conc –”

“whatever happens, i’m right here, okay?” he says, the tone in his voice urgent.

you laugh, looking over to give yuuji a weird look, only to find that he’s staring past sukuna’s shoulder, swallowing hard.

“huh? i don’t follow.”

sukuna pinches his eyes shut, almost like he’s pained, before moving to your side, when you finally see it. he squeezes your hand so hard you think he might have broken it.

you suppose it’s ironic.

yuuji and sukuna’s shitty dad is dead. and your deadbeat one is standing four feet away from you, with two little girls at his side.

next part linked here

an: yolo.

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ch4mpagnedrought · 2 days

Text

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

#art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers

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undercoverpena · 2 days

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15. raspberry truffle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fifteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.1k chapter warnings: smut. 18+. jo's mirror love resurfaces and armchairs are used as more than things sat behind desks. lots of mouth to mouth resus. smut. also there's smut. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: I've had this image in my head for so long...

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“Do you trust me?”

It's a simple question. One he’s asked you time and time before, but never with the current look in his eye he’s currently wearing.

Dressed in a tight grey tee and a pair of black sweats. Hatless, teased curls frame his face as you rest against your counter. The one you’ve seen for the first time in some days.

It strikes you that the only reason you're standing in your home, to begin with, is because of the email informing you that some of your new furniture had been dispatched.

His mouth had been sealed to your neck, fingers grasping at your waist as you read it out, distracted, attention not entirely focused on him until his hand snaked between your legs, in his sheets, in his bed—the one you’d now found to be far more comfortable than your own—as he whispered, I can build it for you.

And, he did. Had done.

Putting his tool on the side as he rejoins you. A nominal irk bubbling through you that the toolbox it lives in is one foot away, it vanishing when he steps closer, presses you further against it. Cool, firmness meets your spine as his body corners you.

He looms in a way that makes your heart double as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. Deeply.

“Should I trust you, handsome?”

Snorting, his laugh fluttering over your lips. “I think you should.”

Lips pursing, narrowing your eyes teasingly, you feel his thumb sliding the fabric of your top up and down your hip bone.

“You are biased though.” His head lolls from side to side as he hums, fingers pinching at the bottom of your top. “Do you think I should because you built my chair?”

As soon as he slides his arm around your waist, your back arches. Chest desperate to be flush. Heart aching to be near to his.

“No. Because you love me.”

Sighing, nodding—all playful. A smirk just there, all beneath the surface. “Oh. That thing.”

Tracing his nose against yours, a smile trying to beam, but he mirrors how you hold back. “That thing.”

When he’s close like this, it’s almost criminal when you’re not kissing him. When you’ve not slanted your mouth against his soft lips, felt the roughness of the hair on his face against your palm, buried your fingers into his curls and pulled a little to earn that groan he does. The one, if it were a thing that could be possible, you’d love etched into your brain.

The thought of which makes you want to peel your clothes off.

Already so hungry for a thing you’ve been feasting at a buffet for the last number of days. Yet, still wanting, still needing.

“You really play a long game,” you say, more sweet. And his nose scrunches, frowning as you smirk. “Waiting this long, getting me to fall in love with you, and then killing me in my own office.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a mastermind.”

Laughing, you twirl a curl around your finger, finding the hair a little longer. “Okay,” you reply, sealing it to his lips, “I trust you—you get my blood on my new chair you’ve just built, I’m going to haunt you.”

“It’s not a punishment that you’d want to spend the rest of your days haunting me, Rainy.”

His hips dip, becoming aware of the effect you have on him too as his growing bulge rubs against your parted thighs. A moan escapes, body jolting at the welcome friction. The sound leaves so softly, barely loud enough to disrupt his mouth from being on yours.

But it does.

“Do you trust me?”

The four words repeated, answered hurriedly. No game, no tease.

His mouth comes close to your ear, a chaste kiss left along your hairline as his hand clutches your waist for stability, and you forget how to breathe.

“Close your eyes, baby.”

As you do, his fingers, clean and soft, all but sawdust stained, slide over your eyes—his chest to your back as he leads you down a familiar path that suddenly feels foreign. Trusting.

Your nose tunes in. Takes in the scent that is equivocally just him, one you’re thankful has begun seeping into your home as much as he has your heart. Hearing him whisper instructions, watch this, be careful, until you're body is shifted on its axis.

His fingers slide from your vision, allowing you to blink, see him, smiling at the sight of him.

“Fuck you’re handsome.”

Backing you up against the newly painted office wall, your arm hooks around his neck again, mouth ghosting over his as a hand hovers over your hip.

“Still trust me?”

Nodding, you feel his breath on your parted lips, before he slides his mouth over yours. Searing. Burning—all determined as his tongue slides past your teeth and his fingers slide up your neck, tracing your jaw. It makes you delirious. Dizzy. Thoughts nothing but lost to you until you glance past him and see it.

The built chair, in the nearly decorated office. The desk it should be behind is still a week out, but the chair, mirror and plants are all set up—the shelves adorned with bits you have for now.

“Hey?” he says, eyes snapping back to him.

Spotting the bubbling molten in his eyes, remembering how your body is aflame—

Then the next question comes. “Can I taste you, baby?”

Nodding, you whisper your answer into the air as he leads you, guides you all over again, moving you closer and more towards your new chair. Mouth latching itself to yours, palms on either side of your cheeks, before his hand steals the cushion, and throws it down.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers, trailing the words down your neck, along your collarbone.

It makes a gasp flutter from your lips, feeling your insides knot, likely dampening the fabric between your thighs, making nothing short of a mess—

“Gonna take these off, okay?”

Your tongue thickens in your head, swallowing a whimper at the feel of his thumbs hooking inside your shorts and slipping them down your thighs. The fabric skims, sliding, before they fall with a soft thud and he's guiding you to sit down in the armchair.

Taking a breath, you stare, captivated. Frankie sinking, kneeling before you on the cushion. “Part your legs for me.”

“Shit, Frankie.”

“Baby.”

Swallowing, you do. Then, it’s delicate, soft.

The gentlest of kisses up the inside of your thighs. Aware of the heat of his fingers pushing your knees further into the arms of the armchair, tuned into the way he exhales through his nose, cool air teasing over your already slick, cloth-covered pussy—the chair groaning when you buck your hips.

“Rainy.”

He grunts it. Low—warningly. It comes from a place in the back of his throat, grating and gravelly as he stares up at you. Nothing but brown dipped in more brown holding your gaze. Usually, it would make you smirk, but instead, you mumble an apology.

One that trails off; turns into a whine when he drags his tongue over the already-drenched fabric.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but you moan like you’ve been teased for hours. Sure that with a few more, you could be close—

“I want you to look in that mirror, and see how beautiful you look as I do this.”

“Frankie, I…”

His hand slides up, right between your still-covered breasts, before cupping your cheek, thumb under your jaw, eyes searching, sweeping and locating. “Look for me.”

Flicking your eyes to it, the ornate thing you’d not been sure you wanted until he’d slid his arms around your waist. Buried his face into your neck. Told you it was nice.

You’d agreed then, you most definitely did. Nodding, letting a little whispered okay escape as he nods. Staring, trying not to pick apart what you see in the reflection. The way your eyes look tired, skin not as bright as it normally would be. That is until he nips at your skin. Pulls your gaze from your own to the back of his head.

“Beautiful—”

“Frankie,” you sigh.

Hand coming over your face, heat blooming in your cheeks as you feel him kiss your inner knee. Thumb stroking at your skin, circling, before he taps. A silent request, a reminder: look at yourself.

You do.

“You are so beautiful, Rainy.” He dips his head—becoming aware of the finger sliding in the gusset of your plainest underwear, dragging the fabric, pulling it from your soaked core all the way to the side.

“I thought it when I first saw you.”

Air blowing across your core, before he places the most delicate, softest kiss against your swollen clit.

“Think it now, seeing you sat in your new chair, in your new office.”

You feel your chest heave, see it. Staring at the way the muscles strain in your neck from not moving, before he drags a long, slow stripe up from your aching hole to your nerves.

And he groans, low and dull. It vibrates against you before his tongue swipes again, hands pushing your inner thighs apart before he dives again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, licking, drawing.

He’s slow in his movements, measured. Delves as much of himself into you before wet, roaring heat swirls around and encases your clit as his growl sends flames up your spine.

That’s when he slides his fingers in. Curls them. Moves them in slow thrusts.

The whine of his name you let escape is sinful, practically unrecognisable. Your hips moving, unable to tear yourself away from staring at the way your mouth hangs open, panting, moaning, as you rock your hips, fuck yourself on his fingers, on his tongue, as you hope his other hand on your hip will leave a mark. Half moons or bruises, or even fucking both—

“Frankie, please.”

The angle of the mirror not only allows you to see the sight of him taking you apart, but how the act seemingly undoes him. How his shirt is stretched across his shoulder blades, how his muscles ripple under the thin fabric as you hold on to every thread as the pads of his fingers curl more into you. All come hither, beckoning the incoming wave you know is going to wash over the two of you.

And it turns you on.

“You like it, querida? Like watching yourself.”

“Like watching you.”

And you swear you feel him smirk as your hips lift, desperate for more, eyes speckled with spots as your nails grip the arm of the chair, the other lost and tangled in his curls.

It’s so good, so fucking good.

He’d make you confess, make you tell him everything—no matter the secret, you’re sure he could pull it from you like this. Have you spilling, as though he’s cracking you open, and even helping him translate the parts of you he’s yet to understand or know.

“So perfect squeezing around me, baby. Love how you taste—always taste so fucking good.”

Your back is off the chair, grinding into him, so close you can’t even think, can barely speak.

“Want you to come on my tongue, Rainy. Need you too.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s it. Let yourself feel good, baby. Use me, use—”

And you do.

Fuck. You do.

Your cry echoes and bangs around the walls before slamming into your ears. Legs shaking. Mind sludge as you come down from your high to his soothing touch, to his whispers, to his words that make you feel like you’re in heaven. Not just here, with his shoulders supporting your knees, but all the time.

It’s why you bring his mouth to yours. Messily, all disorientated from the high of him as you taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue—the tang of what he’d done to you evidenced.

It makes you want, need.

You’re not sure how the two of you made it to the bedroom so cleanly.

His clothes are scattered, left in the hallway; a path that leads from one moment to the other. Your knees were likely bruised from how you dropped to them in the doorway, straddling the hallway and bedroom as you palmed him through his underwear, eyes wide, looking up.

“I love your cock, Frankie.” Hooking a finger in the band, dragging the fabric to his ankles, to the ground. “Like how heavy it feels on my tongue cock.”

Hand slowly wrapping around him, pumping once, twice.

“Fuc...”

His curse isn't able to form when your mouth wraps around him, taking him in your mouth. As much of him as you could. Hearing him groan, grunt—seeing his nostrils flare before his forehead presses into the crease of his elbow as he leans it against the door. His breath stammers, palm cupping the back of your head casually as he tenses, muscles straining, body stiff.

All you can think is you wish this image could be painted, commemorated; hung somewhere for your eyes to see everywhere, every day.

Because he's backlit by the afternoon, shadows cascade from the half-drawn curtains of your room, bicep flexing as you take him down your throat, loosening it as much as you can until the tip of your nose finds itself in his curls.

“So big, Frankie.”

He groans, at the same time as you taste salt, it pooling at the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up to see his jaw slackening, nostrils flaring when your tongue swirls around the tip, hollowing your cheeks, feeling him twitch in your mouth—

“Bed.”

It’s hissed, strangled, as he pulls himself from between your lips and spit trails over your lower lip and chin.

“Now?” you tease.

“Now.”

His hands, all capable and strong, haul you to your feet. Finding a home on your hips, directing and shifting you until you’re on familiar sheets, turned over, stomach flush to your mattress as he trails his mouth down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you.”

“Then fuck me.”

It’s different, the way your bodies come together. The way he swallows your hiss when he bottoms out, stretching around him, fingers clinging and clutching at him.

“Y’too good to me, Frankie.”

“Impossible,” he whispers.

Mouth sliding up over your neck, nose catching on your skin, his hand dips between your bodies—where you’re joined, where you’re full and stretched around him. It’s bliss. Perfection. One you endure so regularly but don’t become used to, each time as taken back by how good it feels to be seated fully inside you as his fingers tease your swollen nerves.

It’s with a smooth thrust do your fingers brush over his face, finding his cheek, mouth and nose, guiding with your eyes closed for his mouth to seal itself over yours. Hips moving, thrusting, meeting him each time as you grow slicker, making a mess of him and the sheets beneath you.

Mouth slotted over his, moaning passed his teeth, hands clutching his cheek, the back of his neck, fingers teasing his curls. “Fuck, Frankie. Fu—“

He grins, you feel it. His hand slides from your slick-covered clit to your hip, along your waist, travelling and travelling until his palm cups your breast—until his finger and thumb are pinching your hardened peak. All the time kissing you, open mouths, breathing one another as his pace quickens. As you feel the early signs of your thighs tremoring, seeking something to grip, to hold on tight—

“Love how you take me.”

You whine. Gasping.

And he’s smooth with it. The way he slides your hand from his cheek and down towards the bed. Hingeing you, making you go down onto all fours as he kisses down your neck, trails his tongue, leaving a searing wet line before he’s under your arm, snaking his mouth over as much skin as he can get.

“Baby—“

“I know,” he grunts, puncturing it with several thrusts. “Feels good, you always feel good.”

Your eyes clench shut, mouth falling open at the angle. At the way it makes your toes curl in nothing. Something tightening, something that makes the corners of your vision blot and darken. It close. Liquid heat forming, swirling in your stomach, in your need and you—

A whine rips from your throat. All stained in disappointment, in loss as he pulls out. Leaves you empty, desperate.

You almost hiss. Throwing your head over your shoulder as you glance back to see him breathing heavily, chest oiled with sweat, hand squeezing himself at the base, a lopsided grin spread into his cheek as his other hand slides over your side. Urging, silently requesting.

“Roll onto your back, Rainy.”

It centres you, roots you when his elbows come down on either side of you.

Warm, hot mouth sliding over your jaw, his hand gripping yours, holding you tight as he teases, slides the tip of his cock through your messy folds, taunting your swollen clit.

“I love you,” he groans, pushing himself in, completely to the hilt, all in one smooth movement.

You swear he's deeper. Always say so until he trails his hand up the side of your leg, lifting them, hooking them over his waist as you wrap them around his back, and dig your ankles into his lower spine.

“Feel so good.”

“You make me feel so good.”

Your chin tips up, feeling him press open-mouth kisses to your throat. Likely feeling the vibrations of your moans against his lips, his tongue.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, rustling your head against the dishevelled sheets as his breath fans over your collarbone, “Only you.”

His pace quickens, snaps his hips to yours, grunting, moaning—the sounds making you clench around him. Chasing your second orgasm, walls fluttering around him as your fingers tighten around his, as he grasps your hip and fucks into you. Spears into you.

“I love you too,” you moan.

“I’m close. So close. Want to feel you, baby. Can you come, baby, come for me—”

Fingers knotting tighter around his, vision spotting, it all pooling, all set to spread.

Then, it snaps, splinters.

You cry out. Body erupting.

Nothing but heat and fire surging through you as you are washed in it. Drowned it. Never wishing to be saved as you go under, as your hearing fades and your eyes blur. Only aware, distantly, of the way your skin tingles as it lights with a blaze.

But, you do catch his guttural groan. The way he stills, paused, as his eyes clench and your name is buried into your ear—feeling him collapse on you.

A weight you love.

His heart hammering against yours, breath strained, difficult as you clutch at him, pulling him closer if that is at all possible. Even if it's just for a moment, before steam fills your bathroom and soap suds slide down both of your skin.

Because it's a weight that makes you smile every time, every day. One you adore. One you never want to not know.

You say as much against his mouth as your lips sloppily meet his, smiling, grinning against his mouth.

I love you.

Love you too, Rainy.

an: this was almost titled the last smut. (because of the series coming to an end, not because of some unhappy ending)

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader smut #francisco morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfic

154 notes · View notes

aetherdoesthings · 2 days

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darling...

forethoughts: like i said, right after i get clorinde, new fic will drop 🤩. enjoy!

notes: fem!reader, protective possessive!arlecchino, arlecchino (alledgedly) killing a man for you

Arlecchino only had two things she kept close to her heart. The House of Hearth members, and you. Her prized lover, her world, her one and only. Hers. And she was yours. You were her other half; of course she would want to protect you until her dying breath. While Arlecchino mostly stayed silent and watched you experience life like a toddler taking their first steps, always there to give you a lending hand whenever you needed it.

“Arle! Arle!” You grabbed the Harbinger’s hand, dragging her deeper into the heart of Fontaine. “Check it!”

The Harbinger allowed you to wrap your delicate fingers around her sleeve, following you to wherever you wanted to go. On the rare days she had a free hour or two, she’d always spend it with you doing whatever you wanted to do.

“There’s a new restaurant that just opened! Come on!” The corners of your mouth shot up to your eyes, a sight that the Harbinger treasured and held dear to her heart. All she wanted to do was to see that smile on your face, that smile that was devoid from stress and worry, and only shined with excitement and joy. May the Archons show their pity on the ones who stole that smile.

You wrapped your arms around the Harbinger’s, as the two of you walked up to the waitress.

“T-The Knave..” The waitress stared at Arlecchino, who kept an indifferent and expressionless look on her face. Arlecchino knew about her status and what it meant, especially how having an energetic and passionate girl by her side looked for her. She was not that big of a fan of being in the public eye with you, but just seeing your puppy eyes was enough for Arlecchino to relent.

“A table for two, please.” Arlecchino stated with a monotone voice.

“R-Right!” The waitress scrambled for the menus, before leading the two of you to a secluded and private room inside the restaurant. “Please enjoy yourself with the amenities in our VIP suite. I-If you need anything please call one of our staff. The buffet is outside.”

“Woah! VIP!” You explored around the room, taking pictures of the flowers and paintings, while Arlecchino took her seat, opening the menu. “Hmn. Would you like to go out to grab some food first, darling? You look ravenous.”

“What about you, Arle? Aren’t you going to get something too?” You turn around and look at the Harbinger, who was engrossed with the drinks options.

“Of course.” Arlecchino placed the menu on the table, uncrossing her legs as she strolled towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Like an unspoken command, you walked out of the VIP suite, clamoring towards the buffet line, perusing all the food and dashing around. Arlecchino kept a close eye on you; you were never too fast for her crimson gaze. Arlecchino knew how you loved to have your own space and explore around, and the Knave agreed. Like any child, they needed their space to learn and grow in a new environment. She took a plate from underneath the tray of food, and strolled around the salad bar, keeping one eye on you.

“Woah, you’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?” Arlecchino’s ears pricked, her eyes instantly shooting over to where she captured you last. You were in the middle of grabbing food, when a random man walked up to you, no plate in his hands. She pretended to be grabbing salad from the trays, inching closer and closer to you.

“Ummmm… what?” You said, continuing to grab your food.

“What’s a gem like you doing out alone?”

“Eating. And I’m not alone, actually!”

“Yeah? Don’t see no guy around. Come on, let me treat you to a meal. Come over to my table. I’ll show you some pretty interesting things.” The man grinned at you, his hands started to move closer to your waist.

You shrugged it off, an unbothered and innocent look on your face. “I’m not allowed to, sorry.”

“Not allowed to? Who’s controlling your decisions, kitten?” The man moved closer, his hand snaking around your waist.

Arlecchino nearly grabbed her plate a little too hard, spilling salad onto the counter. Her fingers curled into a ball, her crimson eyes glowering.

“My partner!” You exclaimed with a cheerful tone, spinning out of his grasp around your waist. “Okay, I’m going now, mister. Have a good one!”

As you skipped back to the VIP room, you noticed Arlecchino trying to melt the brie cheese with her eyes. You tapped her on the shoulder, a smile on your face. “Made new friend, Arle!”

You extended your index finger towards the man, putting him in the spotlight in the Harbinger’s gaze. “There!”

The man locked eyes with the Fatui Harbinger, and all the color disappeared from his face, travelling down to his trousers, displaying itself with a dark spot. The Harbinger had to control herself and the corner of her mouth from flying upwards, her crimson gaze softening to a glow as she looked at you. “I see, darling. Take this plate back, hmn? Eat your greens.”

“Okay!” You smiled at the Harbinger, giving her a wink, before skipping back to the VIP suite.

Arlecchino turned her head back around, and as she suspected, the man had scurried off. The Harbinger exhaled through her nose. No matter. The man could relish the few more minutes he had on this world. After all, there was no place on Teyvat where he could ever remain safe from the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.

“Darling, did you finish your greens?” Arlecchino closed the door behind her, her crimson gaze softening as she observed your messy face, sauce all over your lips and aloof smile.

“All clear!” You beamed at the Harbinger, holding up the plate to her face. Arlecchino let out a chuckle, her eyes glancing at the small crack in the porcelain. No matter. She’ll just let the man compensate. The Knave took her seat, placing the plate of food she had taken prior to her little… trip.

“Good girl.” Arlecchino purred, her thin lips turning into a small smile as she planted a kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes lingered on the Knave’s face, your eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that on your cheek, Arle?”

“Oh?” Arlecchino brushed her finger against her cheek, picking up the fresh blood that ‘accidentally’ splattered onto her face during her little…mission.

“Nothing you need to worry yourself over, darling. Eat up. Eat as much as you want.” Arlecchino picked up a fork, urging you to eat as well.

You shrugged, shoving a spoonful of chocolate mousse into your mouth. You knew better than to invoke Arlecchino’s ‘protectiveness’ of you. As long as you were hers, and she was yours, you had nothing to worry about. Never shall you worry again.

#genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #darling #aetherwrites

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incogrio · 3 days

Text

ch.yj - i'll be your waiter today, sir

pairing: yeonjun x gn! reader, established relationship

genre: fluff, SMUT!

synopsis: you're a waiter at a restaurant and your bf yeonjun comes to visit you. activities ensue.

warnings: bj, general smut warnings, switch! yj, not very well written smut, nothing too crazy

w/c: 1k+

an: first smut... hope y'all like it bc i liked writing it! feel free to jork it to this fanfic, love y'all LOL i have nothing else to say <333

COMMENTS/FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

your feet were killing you and your breath wafting back from your mask is making you wish you could quit your job and run away. your boyfriend, yeonjun would’ve supported you, but you couldn’t find it in you to rely on him like that. you muster up the courage to crack your neck and stretch out your foot for a moment, before getting back to work. just as you look up, you see your co-worker, oscar, welcoming in someone with a black baseball cap similar to your uniform’s, and a mask. he was tall, and looked a lot like yeonjun. you tilted your head as your eyes followed the two men to a little table in the corner, and finally you could see his face. wait a minute, that is yeonjun! what is your idol boyfriend doing visiting your job? you have no one else to serve as of now, and you thought of just watching your pretty boy, before you realized that your co-worker, oscar, was throwing himself at your boyfriend.

“brother eughh,” you mumbled to yourself, watching yeonjun scootching away from oscar’s hand on his bicep and awkwardly coughing. yeonjun eyed around the restaurant, eyes yearning for the sight of your familiar body.

when he finally finds you, he darts his wide eyes to your coworker as he takes his order, “help me!” he pleads with only his eyes.

you smirk at him from behind your mask, your eyes crinkling ever so slightly. yeonjun almost melts at the sight. his little smile behind his mask falls when you shrug and take a lollipop from behind the counter, popping it into your mouth and looking away in faux obliviousness.

to be honest, all yeonjun could think about was your lips. how they glistened with saliva and melted lollipop, the light from the windows making their gloss even shiner. how he’d love to force you onto your knees after teasing him like this, force his cock into your mouth and watch your lips suck on something meaningful. he’d grab your face harshly, fingers digging into the back of your head as he-

“all right sir, your drinks will be out in just a second.” oh. right.

yeonjun nods and as soon as oscar has left his vicinity, you walk up to him. he rolls his eyes at you, turning his back to you in faux anger.

“thanks for your help back there, y/n.” he says angrily. if he wasn’t your yeonjun, you would’ve actually been worried. well, a flash of worry washed over you as he used your real name, not one of the pet names he grew to love.

you pouted, “aww, not baby or angel? you must be really hurt!” you baby him. it’s something you’ve both grown to love. him being the oldest in his idol group leaves him with lots of friends, but not much room to be babied. with you, however, he melts into a copy of huening kai. you can see his cheek pull up into a small from the angle you have on the back of his mask.

he stays stubborn, and you grow frustrated. “yeonjun-ahhhh!!! you’re so stubborn!!” you whine out, stomping your foot lightly.

he turns back to your, mask stretching to accomodate his jaw dropping. “aish! you talk to all your customers like that?”

you look around, making sure no one can see you two, “only the ones i’m in love with,” you reply cheekily. yeonjun smiles, reaching up and slowly pulling his mask down as you lean closer to his lips. your gaze never leaves his plump lips, his staring into your eyes lovingly. he reaches a hand up, taking off your cap and placing it on the table before cupping your cheek. your lips slot together like two tetris blocks made for one another. he swipes his tongue across your lip, tasting the sweet cherry lollipop that had graced your mouth behind hand. he moans softly against you, before you hear footsteps behind you.

you go to pull away as you hear oscar behind you, “y/n?” he asks, confused. yeonjun does let you pull away, smiling against your lips as you hit his chest softly, getting in a few more sucks on your plump lips before finally freeing you. you don’t face oscar, only bowing your head to look at the wood graining on the table as heat engulfs your face.

“so… those are our specials!” you say, turning on your heel and walking away.

once again, you’ve left your boyfriend with a hard-on and dreaming of your lips.

soon after, yeonjun is fed his food from a newly silent oscar. after he finishes his meal, he leaves oscar a hefty tip and makes his way up to your little podium.

“i’ll be waiting in the car, yeah?” he says softly. you find it endearing that he tries to not embarass you further. he reaches his hand to stroke the back of yours with his thumb, a silent apology, but not without a cheeky smile hehind his mask. you nod. he mutters, “love you,” before heading out the door.

the rest of your shift is undeniably awkward. oscar is angry you’ve “stolen” his man, and you can’t stop thinking of the idol whos madly in love with you waiting in his fancy car. when the clock striked ten pm, you couldn’t have bolted outside faster. you walked up to yeonjuns black nissan gt-r, peering inside to find him softly palming his erection through his sweatpants, looking at pictures of you. you giggle to yourself.

you go to the side where he is sitting and softly knock, causing him to jump and try to hide his previous actions. when he sees your familiar face, his shoulders slump out of relief.

“you’re being so mean today!” he whines as he opens his door.

“am i?” you mutter, climbing to kneel in front of his feet. he closes the door, looking down at you with a smirk. you press a kiss to the side of his knee.

slowly, you kiss higher and higher, before sliding past yeonjuns erection to his other leg. he rolls his eyes, he tapped his foot before grabbing your jaw in one hand.

“brat.” he says through his teeth, lips his hips up and pulling his sweatpants and boxers down with one hand. he wraps his hand around his cock, tilting it forward and directing you to open your mouth with a thumb flicking your lip.

you smile, “won’t you beg me first?” you ask, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

he grumbles, pulling your face closer to his cock, and biting his lips when you refuse.

“fine. please, please suck my cock baby.” he begs monotonely.

“thats the best you can do?” you ask, replacing his hand on his cock but remaining still.

“for fucks- please baby! it’d make me so happy, i promise.” as he spoke, he fell deeper into the submissive boy you loved to play with. “you wanna make me happy, yeah? please, angel, suck your baby’s cock,” he whines out, voice cracking and blown out eyes tearing up. you silently open his mouth and take his tip between your lips. your tongue flicks against his opening, picking up his precum and he moans lewdly, bucking his hips softly. “oh, fuck, yeah, just like that. soooooo good for me baby,” he groans in a high pitched tone as he throws his head back, arm reaching up to clutch the headrest. you looked up for a moment, taking in his sensual form and finally, you take a deep breath and force his entire dick into your mouth and throat. he is rendered silent at this, tongue almost hanging out of his mouth as he merely let out a soft breath. your nose just barely grazes his taut stomach.

you moan against him, forcing him to reach to the center console with his freehand to dig his fingers into. “oh god… your mouth was made for my cock, wasn’t it? made just for me, only me.” he takes a few deep breaths as you begin to bob your head up and down, slobbering messily on his huge cock. “god… so fucking good,” he whines.

you keep going, faster and sucking harder as you feel him lose all sense of self. he begins to buck his hips into your mouth wildly. he ruins your rhythm countless times, but you can’t find it in you to tell him to stop.

“perfect fucking fleshlight… yeah, thats all you are,” he says mostly to himself kicking his feet forward onto the acceleration for more control. thank god the car is in park since he pushes his entire weight onto the pedals as he lifts his hips up and off the seat. you moan loudly, his balls slapping your chin lightly as his dick reaches new depths in your throat. “cumming! gonna- gonna fill your pretty mouth… you’ll swallow it all, i know you will…” he trails off deliriously, smiling to himself as his neck pulses from its pressure into the back of the seat. he moans devilishly as his dick convulses, shooting load after load into your mouth.

yeonjun only finds it in him to sit down and let you breathe once you let out a pitiful whine, tapping his thigh in a sign for help. when you’re freed from his cock, you finally are able to take a huge breath as slobber falls from your open lips. he leans forward onto his knees, staring down at you as if challenging you. you close your mouth and swallow all his dna whilst looking in his eyes, to which he smiles and kisses you softly as a reward.

“come,” he mutters, helping you up and into your spot as passenger. he reaches for the napkins in the glove box, cleaning his cock with a tissue before folding it over, cleaning your pretty face with the clean side.

“did i do good?” you ask, slightly insecurely as he pulls his pants back onto his hips. you always wondered what the sex felt like for him, and despite how much he craved you, you never understood how insatiable he was for your touch, and your touch only.

“did you-“ he chuckles, “baby, i’m gonna fuck you so hard when we get home. maybe then you’ll get how you make me feel.”

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iamasaddie · 2 days

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craving

paring: Ezra x f!reader rating: explicit summary: he knew about you something that you refused to know about yourself warnings: CNC; explicit sexual content; dark until it’s not; no use of y/n, UNEDITED a/n: oh wow who would've thought i finally posted my fic for my own fucking challenge, ta daaaaa word count: 2.6k masterlist

You felt the air sticking to your lungs like honey, thick and almost burning, making each labored breath harder and harder. You didn’t know why you tried to run; you didn’t know what made you feel that his lack of hand somehow would affect his running skills. It didn’t. He had a nose like a dog, sniffing out your trail almost immediately and catching you by the neck. You would try to scream, but the honey-thick air was still filling your lungs. He dragged you by the hair through the mud of the long-forgotten planet, filled by barbarians, killers, thieves, and you, an unfortunate traveler. He didn’t say a word, out of breath himself, the cursed place was slowly killing each inhabitant who tried to breathe its thick, almost liquid air for too long.

At one point you started helping him drag you; there wasn’t much you could do, but at least his cabin had an air filter. The man threw you to the wooden floor of his little shack while he fumbled with the door. Turning back to look at you, he threw his hand above his head, leveraging himself on a wooden plank. You had dirt under your fingernails, your hair a tangled mess, and when you lifted your eyes you saw his condition was no better. Perspiration covered his face in thick droplets, dirty hair sticking to his forehead and temples, three days worth of stubble smudged with some dirt that could also be seen on his cotton coverall. His eyes weren’t angry; they never were, but there was a distinct dark look that always told you there was nothing good ahead for you.

“Oh, my dumb little birdie, don’t you know how much you disappoint me when you try to run away like that? I warned you not to do that, told you it was dangerous out there. I told you to stay here and I’d make sure nothing bad happens to you.” He lowered himself on his knees, almost crawling to you, getting so close you could hear the smell of his sweat. Closer, closer, his knee between your spread legs, too close. Not giving it a single thought, you spat in his face in anger, a fat glob of your saliva landing on his cheek.

“You’re the worst thing that could’ve ever happened to me, you sick fuck.”

Ezra’s eye twitched a little and he let out a long breath, wiping off the remnants of your spit with the corner of his sleeve, the only one that was filled out.

He tilted his head slightly, so that now his thick eyebrows cast a shadow over his brown eyes, turning them into an impenetrable blackness. It always seemed to you that there was great power in his eyes. How a one-armed thief with a specific manner of communication could live in this place for so long was still a mystery to you, but if you could look deeper into his eyes, you would definitely find the answer. Even if it's not the answer that would make you breathe a sigh of relief.

His heavy hand fell on your leg, squeezing your shin to the point that you were ready to squeal, but did not give him such pleasure. The man's voice remained sweetly insinuating, discouragingly calm. That voice made the blood in your veins thicken, the beats of your pulse became almost painful.

“Now tell me, is this an appropriate way for a young lady like yourself to talk to her caregiver?” You could hardly believe your ears. What the hell was he talking about? The psychopath took advantage of your desperate situation months ago, and now you were literally his hostage.

“Caregiver? Did you drink your own piss this morning? You’re nothing more than a slaveowner.”

Your grin was ferocious, harsh words flying from your lips like knives, only to miss their mark. Ezra smiled indulgently, the way a parent laughs at their child's silly tantrum. His palm slid higher, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, and his knee almost pressed into the heat of your core, where the pulse beat was particularly intense.

“It is all right, my little feathered monster. I know you're upset, frustrated. All these big feelings don't let you see straight,” he said with a smile, as if he expected you to try to escape again and was calculating your steps in advance. Instead, your eyes wandered over his body, which gradually began to press you to the floor, without noticing it, you were already in thrall to his hips, buttocks covered only with the thin material of his clothes confidently pressed you into the hard wooden floor. And, his hand, for the umpteenth time that day, it became difficult to breathe. You felt a smooth movement, Ezra was pressing his groin against you and where your blood was beating the hottest, he had a furious vulture ready to rip open your skin to get drunk. While your eyes were tied to the place where your two bodies touched in a very understandable dance, Era watched as the anger on your face was replaced by embarrassment and fear, he literally heard the blood running to your chest and neck, making your skin burn.

“Wha-- What are you doing?” You asked, your voice lacking any hint of the previous arrogance. It was nothing like the familiar melody of rage you had played for him at every opportunity. Your words were timid, almost afraid of what was happening.

Ezra smiled indulgently, as if he was watching a child's tantrum, his hand sliding up and lightly pressing the palm of his hand on your neck. He squeezed your jaw with his index finger and thumb, making it difficult to take your eyes off him. The sound of his voice was hardly louder than your own, as he spoke softly. “I am going to help you, sweet creature. I won't let the mundane feelings of a weak body torture your soul.”

It all sounded ridiculous, nonsensical, and full of the fear that came from the unknown. What the hell was he talking about? Why couldn't he talk like normal people, why all those curly expressions and mixed signals? However, from the movements of his tense body, it was not difficult to understand exactly how he was going to "free you from torment" and it scared you the most.

One might have thought that a classic maniac or kidnapper, who had been alone in the middle of nowhere for a long time, would first of all try to take advantage of all the physical pleasures that the body of a young and quite pretty girl could provide, but there was nothing ordinary about Ezra, for all the time he was forced to be in his company, he never I touched you in that way. You had spent the first two weeks of your captivity locked in a small, sparsely furnished room, before making your first escape attempt - something that ended in failure the moment you opened the door, only to find your kidnapper waiting just beyond it with the corpse of some mutated creature on his shoulder. Another week passed in tearful grief over your naivete, a couple of days of anger, bargaining, depression and, finally, acceptance. Ezra kept saying that he was only trying to help and that everything he was doing was for your own good. When asked why he chose you as the victim of his care, he only said that he saw a sign. You never found out what kind of sign it was.

Not for a single day did the idea of running away leave you, even when he gave you your own room, thoughtfully plugging up the windows with wooden boards beforehand. He placed his battered sofa in front of your door. Even when he trusted you to keep an eye on the house, wash the dishes, including the long, always sharpened knives, the thought of escape still lingered in your mind. You've always wanted to escape, but you've never wanted to kill him. Ezra made you keep an eye on the house; if reading out your to-do list in the morning could be called that. At first, you rebelled. You sat in the center of your room and stared at the wall. However, when he stopped bringing you portions of food, and your stomach began to hurt so much that it wouldn't even let you fall asleep, you gave up. You were the mistress of the house, he would leave and lock you in. Your life had become a rusty but still working mechanism. This went on for several months while you hatched a new escape plan, your next failure, but you could not imagine what it would entail.

“No, no, Ezra, please, not this. I promise I won’t try to run away anymore, I promise I’ll stay with you.”

You tried to wriggle out of the grip of his body, but it seemed the harder you tried to slip away, the tighter his grip was. The metal cage of his body belied the suffocating tenderness in his voice.

“Shhh, of course you won’t run, silly, you won’t ever want to.” His voice paralyzed your body, your attempts to escape became weaker and weaker, you knew that you had no more chance of escaping now than the first time. And maybe ten times less, because now he wants something from you that he can't get from others. Now he wants you from you. To some extent, his insistent hand that moved from your neck to the rope of your sweatpants was soothing, understandable. There was no catch in what he wanted to take, there was no mystery, and it was as if it allowed you to relax. For the first time, you didn't have to hide from the hundreds of questions and riddles that sting your daily existence, painful from the fact that they always remained unsolved.

“Come back to me,” a light slap on your cheek brought you back to the present, to the present where your sweatpants were pulled off one leg and dangled on the ankle of the other. The present, where your abductor's intimidating and unnaturally hot cock rested in the slit of your pussy lips. “I'll take care of you, my bird.”

He was kneeling between your spread legs, his cock shining with moisture, either from the undying heat of the room, or from the growing excitement of his body. A hot palm touched your skin, exploring new expanses, new curves and bulges, new textures.

As if he’d done it a thousand times before, the rough pad of his thumb found your clit, giving it a barely-there touch first, and then pressing harder, just stating the ownership over this part of you in a couple of strokes.

You didn’t understand if your body wanted to betray you or save you, the growing slick between your thighs became more than obvious, you knew he could see it, feel it. Ezra didn’t say a word. He just let the slow, lazy strokes of his thumb ignite the fire you were unable to put out. Skin-to-skin friction created sparks that you were sure you would have been able to see if your gaze had not been sewn with strong threads to your tormentor's face. Your savior's face? His mouth opened in awe, brows knitted together with concentration, Devil’s flames in his dark orbs. He was beautiful in his wickedness. You felt your hips move up, trying to make the pressure more prominent, make his fingertip leave a print on the most sensitive part of your pussy. You gave yourself up to him too easily, submitting your defeat with a hollow moan.

“There you go, my little rebel,” his face was turned to where his fingers were straining pleasure out of your body, “you should’ve told me what you needed, you know I’d give it to you.”

“I did not need it.”

“You can lie to yourself, birdie, but you can’t lie to me,” his voice barely above whispering synched with your weep of a ruined upcoming orgasm when he took his hand away. “Tell me.”

“No.” You clenched your teeth, refusing to let him see the pain of the denied pleasure.

“Tell me that you needed it.”

His palm enveloped the thick shaft distracting you for a moment with the primal beauty of the scene; he scooted closer to you and slapped your throbbing clit with the angry tip of his cock.

Your moan still sounded like ‘no’, so he kept slapping your sensitive pussy over and over again, repeating the same demand.

You had lost count how many obscene wet sounds you’d heard, how many smacks landed directly to your clit until you had finally given up.

“Yes! God, yes, I needed it, I needed it,” you kept crying, turning your head from side to side with vigor, ignoring the strands of hair tangling and sticking to your face.

He didn’t laugh, not at all, just let his cock lay in the crevice of your labia, as his hand, soaked in your mixed smells and liquids, gently cupped your sweaty face. “I know, my little feather, I know," his thumb traced your lower lip and you had won over the desire to bite into his flesh.

Instead of swallowing his finger with your mouth, your pussy generously swallowed his cock, stretching with every inch he pushed inside you. At that moment, it began to seem to you that you were lying through your teeth before. You did need it, how could you not have needed this painful stinging of your insides molding to fit him inside you? How didn’t you beg for the beautiful weight of his body that was pressing your shoulder blades into the floor so hard you knew they’d start bleeding soon?

“Fuck, heaven and all the sacred places, I needed this, too,” he whispered in your ear wetly, and you felt the press of his full, hairy balls into the skin of your ass.

With a painful bite, you drew blood from the lip he was just caressing as he started slow, but deliberate thrusting. The curve of his cock made sure that with each thrust he was hitting your g-spot, and it was way beyond your powers to stay quiet. Each push and pull of his hips were experienced musician’s hands on a well tuned guitar, you sang for him, his silly songbird. Ezra didn't hesitate to sing along with his moans, heavy breathing, and perverted compliments.

Your bodies were tense, yours in search of orgasm, his in an unquenchable need to give it to you.

Thrust and pause and thrust again. Ezra’s body was practically laying on top of yours, his hand unable to hold his weight much longer. The coarse cubic hair around the base of his cock tingled and irritated your delicate, hot skin at first. But the harder he pressed into you, the more this feeling grew into the inescapable pleasure that, in tandem with the precise movements of his cock, became your undoing.

Or maybe a rebirth.

“It is still unfathomable to me as to why you’d want our first time to happen in such an animalistic and violent way,” Ezra’s lips pressed to your temple and you felt the tip of his tongue stealing a tiny drop of sweat from your skin.

“Maybe I am just as insane as you are,” you whispered out, your lids were too heavy to keep them open. Fat globs of his cum were leaking out of your stretched pussy, tickling the skin of your ass.

“You definitely are, my little psycho, who else would fall in love with their slaveowner?”

“Caregiver,” you smiled, pressing your body harder into the man.

#iamasaddie fic #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ppcu fanfiction #little lady kinky may #writing challenge 3.0 #pedro pascal fic

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evanbi-ckley · 2 days

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listen. about lou's scars. i'm insane about them actually and i'm so sorry and yeah i know firefighting is a job that gets you scars for sure but i'm thinking about. tommy as a chef. with hands and arms scarred from cuts and burns and buck being insane about that.

if this is bc i have the worst crush on the head chef at my work who's like twice my age, could be my dad, has no concept of personal space when teaching and is slowly killing me. then what. his arms are so scarred and it's so hot

well, anon, you did it. you inspired a head chef!tommy fic from me, so congratulations 😂 it's almost 3000 words and I haven't even gotten to the arm scars yet, but I'll get there

I was tagged by @smallandalmosthonest 💚💚

“Evan?” Tommy says quietly. Evan startles anyway, nearly dropping the stock pot he was about to place on the shelf. He seems to steel himself, and Tommy doesn’t like that at all. When he turns around, his eyes are red-rimmed. Tommy hadn’t gotten close enough earlier to be able to see, but now it’s obvious. “Yes, Chef?” Evan asks, his voice thick with whatever has him so upset. He’s also staring at a spot over Tommy’s shoulder, not making eye contact. Tommy crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and takes the pot from him, quickly putting it on the shelf before turning back. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Tommy starts, “because clearly you’re not. But can you tell me what happened?” Evan looks down, still refusing to look Tommy in the eye. “Nothing, Chef. Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and making himself look small. Evan is anything but small, both in the physical sense and certainly in personality. Tommy’s heart breaks a little at the sight. “Evan,” he says gently. And that’s when Evan crumbles. Tommy steps forward, catching him easily and holding him upright. Evan grabs at his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, before snaking his arms under Tommy’s, grabbing handfuls of the back of his chef’s coat and holding on for dear life.

no pressure tagging @monsterrae1 @powersuitup @loveyouanyway @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess

#tease tidbit tuesday #911 abc #911 #911 wip #bucktommy #bucktommy wip #tevan #kinley #kinkley #jules writes #jules answers #anon

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soobnny · 15 hours

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shall we dance? — bang chan. strangers to lovers. fluff. chan gives you his shoes when your feet hurt. conversation inspired by a scene in little women. (0.9k words)

Bright lights pollute your vision, and it’s getting hard to hear anything over the music echoing around the room.

Nobody told you how hard it’d be to look for quiet, even just a thin line, amidst one of the nights teenage girls will be writing about in their diaries when they get home. Quaint gestures of friendliness are starting to feel a little forced. Friends of a friend mingle around, clad in the prettiest dresses they spent months looking for.

You’re not quite sure if you’re enjoying the night or if your thoughts are just a little clouded because no one has asked you to dance. All you know is that your brand new heels are burning holes on the soles of your feet and you don’t think you can handle another look of pity from your friend.

Maybe it’d be best to mask yourself amongst the massive curtains decorating the corners of whomever’s house this is. You’re sure you saw a room there when you’d first walked into the house. So, with your gaze straight ahead at what’s meant to be the dance floor, you start backing up–step by step, careful not to startle anyone’s periphery. The sight of you sneaking away might be the laughing stock of the town.

“Hi.”

The sudden voice startles you. You don’t expect anyone else to be in there, especially when the night is reaching its high.

“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.” You smile sheepishly. Though, you suppose being caught by one is better than the burning gaze of a hundred.

He has a cute moon smile, eyes morphed like crescents, and he isn’t unattractive either. He’s opposite the spectrum–almost breathtaking–clad in a white dress shirt with a few unbuttoned at the top. You’re sure it costs more than everything you’re wearing tonight. His hair is wavy, but effortless in a way you know that he’d spent maybe a minute to get it to look that way. How is someone like him hiding away from the crowd? If he were to step out, you’re sure that hundreds of girls would line up even just to look at him.

“It’s alright. Don’t mind me.” He’s still smiling, though a little more effortless now. “Stay, if you’d like. It’s a little overwhelming out there, no?”

“I won’t disturb you?”

He shakes his head cutely, hair bouncing a little as he does.

“You’re Miss (Last Name), right?”

You’re surprised he knows your name, maybe a little tempted to ask how. But with the way he’s dressed, and how he’s comfortably lounged in the room, it would be safe to assume he’s the son of whoever owns this house. He must be acquainted with at least a few of the guests his father invited.

You return his smile. He’s looking directly at you, patiently waiting for your confirmation.

“Ah, yes. But I’m not Miss (Last Name), I’m only (name). Last names bring heavy expectations, and tonight, I just want to be (name).”

His smile grows.

“Well then, I’m only Chan.”

The air feels easy, a few giggles escaping both your lips after you’d both introduced yourselves. The unpleasant awkwardness of just meeting someone is almost non-existent.

“Don’t you want to go out there and dance?” You fiddle with your fingers, shifting your feet a little before returning your gaze back on the boy.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Heat crawls up on your cheeks. You don’t know why you feel embarrassed. Maybe it’s because minutes ago you’d been sulking over not being asked to dance. And while you’d love to, your brand new heels are killing you—you think scars are forming from the way the skin of your feet that’s in contact with your shoes feel like they’re burning.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” You shoot him an apologetic look.

“Why not?”

“My feet are burning. I don’t even think I can walk.” You laugh, sitting down and taking off a heel to show him your ankles. Just as you’d suspected, it’s painted bright red. Just a bit more friction and you’re sure it’s going to start bleeding. “But I really, really would’ve wanted to dance with you.”

Chan crouches down to inspect your ankles, a respectful hand on your foot to assess if there was any scarring. Then, he starts taking off his own shoes. You don’t even get to ask him what he’s doing, not when he’s pushing his massive shoes in front of your feet.

“Wear mine. Then it won’t have to hurt.”

“But then you won’t be wearing—”

He gently slips his shoes on yours after taking your heels off for you, even despite your protests that he’d be wearing nothing but his socks.

Chan offers a hand out to you, and it’s only then you realize a few silver rings decorating his slender fingers–the ones that are a few inches from your own hand.

When you take his hand, you first discern how big it is compared to yours. He’s very tall, shoulders far broader than yours. It’s driving you a little crazy. Then, your eyes trail down to his massive shoes that’s now on your feet.

Your attention on his shoes is short-lived when you feel a palm grazing over your waist before settling itself in a gentle grip. The music is muffled, but it’s loud enough that you can still dance a little to the beat.

“Now, shall we dance?”

#bang chan fluff #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids drabbles #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan fafic #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #chan drabbles #chan x you

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jnnul · 2 days

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peaches

sum.: when you pie your [really-hot] neighbor in the face on accident, you never imagine that you’re gonna have to be wheeling him to the hospital because who the fuck is allergic to peaches? yang jungwon, apparently. but you come to learn that yang jungwon is so much more than his unfortunate allergy to peaches and his pretty face and you’re stuck wondering if falling in love with someone you can’t have is worth it.

word count: 2.9k

tags: this one’s sad bois, bullet fic, like ngl, when i was planning this one, i teared up a little bit, sorry in advance tw: major character death, terminal illness, just...not meant for the weak-hearted

a/n: literally all i can say i’m sorry :( can’t believe my first fic for jungwon is this sad nonsense i conjured up literally last year

you didn’t mean to pie your extremely attractive neighbor in the face

and you definitely didn’t mean to have to take him to the hospital because apparently, your hot neighbor was allergic to peaches

who’s fucking allergic to peaches?

yang jungwon, apparently

you didn’t even know what he looked like until you had to drive him to the hospital in your stupid beat up toyota bc his face was bright red and splotchy

and he kept itching it

which then meant that you had to swat at his hand every so often

it was not the first impression you wanted to make on such a pretty man

you vividly remember sitting in the waiting room, knee bouncing in fear that you may have accidentally killed the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life

or that you would have to pay his hospital bills for the rest of his life

fuck american healthcare (and the collegiate system)

only to find out that he was absolutely fine. in fact. he knew the doctor there. not only did he know the doctor. he worked for the doctor.

he had insurance.

you had been betrayed.

not really. you didn’t exactly give him a chance to tell you that you didn’t need to take out a debt creating loan to pay his hospital bills

you were too busy trying not to cry as you sped down the interstate in hopes that your decision to take the toyota instead of paying another $4000 for the ambulatory fee was the correct decision

it was.

so when jungwon walks out with an itemized bill and a sheepish, almost silly smile, you nearly fall to your knees in gratitude in the middle of the waiting room

you’re pretty sure that some of those people are convinced jungwon beat cancer bc of the relief on your face when you see the 0 next to copay on the bill

you could kiss jungwon but his face still looks a little too splotchy to be doing that

and you tell him as much but he just laughs, shaking his head a little bit

“so you’re saying you would kiss me if i didn’t look so splotchy?”

“i’m saying i’m going to kiss your insurance provider and i’m switching mine to yours today.”

anyway

after nearly losing your hot neighbor to justin bieber’s hit song, you finally start getting closer to him

it turns out that you had meant to pie yours and jungwon’s mututal friend and down the hall neighbor, jake sim, from whom he was renting out the apartment for the summer

but jake had the reflexes of a fucking ninja and had ducked and jungwon had the privilege of being pied instead

you had knocked on jake’s door and as soon as someone opened the door, you pied them with no thoughts and no turnback

jungwon had opened the door though, and the rest was history

you guys had a very neighborly relationship

jungwon would come home after a long day of summer classes, internships, and work and you cook jungwon (peach-less) baked goods that he could die for

and when you would complain abt your broke ass, he would buy enough groceries for the two of you and you would go to his place or he would come to yours

the stubborn struggling artist in you always protested

“i can’t let you buy this for me! groceries are so expensive nowadays!”

“if it makes you feel better, these aren’t organic. in fact that avocado looks like it’s on life support.”

“...”

but you also end up coming over to his place whenever he has a quick repair or smth bc the landlord doesn’t know a screw from a lightbulb

so he insists that it all cancels out in the end

but you hates taking jungwon’s help (or any help in general you stubborn ass)

so you got onto the summer job hunt grind

but it was pretty late, almost the middle of june, and not many places were hiring

thankfully, jake sim was loaded

and he was going to europe for the rest of the summer

randomly

bc apparently that’s what rich people do

so you were able to take his role temporarily at the local dance studio that jake taught at

not that jake needed the money

but he said smth about “passing on the passion” and “encouraging the next generation of dancers”

you kinda stopped listening once you saw pics of him in leotards that left nothing to the imagination

scrubbing the mental image from your mind was hard enough

you weren’t the best ballet dancer, but you had danced for 10 years in contemporary before a foot injury knocked you out of dancing for good

so you definitely had the experience (and a semi-healed foot) that you needed

and besides! as an education major, you needed experience with working with students anyway

or at least that’s what you tell yourself

because you forget how terrifying little human beings are until you step into the studio

and every single one of them is wearing some lululemon or aritzia variation

and you’re...kinda just wearing your old tights and a loose shirt

not in a quirky “i’m not like other dancers” type of way

a more humble “i can’t afford luxury brands” type of way

no shame in the college grind game

but other than the fact that you felt like you were on an episode of dance moms every day, the classes weren’t that bad

the kids were pretty polite and they generally didn’t really mind that they had a new teacher - although one of them did say that jake was really good eye candy

and that you were gorgeous but not really their type

hey. you’re gorgeous. you’re everyone’s type. in fact, they’d be lucky if you were one’s type.

but you’re also thankful bc it’d be really awkward if your prepubescent students had a crush on you...

speaking of crushes

jungwon was fucking oblivious to yours

he says shit that makes you think that he’s caught on

that he knows that you would cosplay anastasia steele for the rest of your life if it meant he went for a roll in the hay with you

or you know, took you out on a nice, romantic date

you don’t really know how it works nowadays

but every time you think you’ve been discovered, he proceeds to completely do a 180

one time, the two of you were sitting on the couch watching, aptly enough, the notebook

when jungwon leans over incriminatingly, close enough to kiss you and you’re just about to turn your head, excited that jungwon has decided to make the first move

only for him to grab the remote and turn up the volume

which, in hindsight, does nothing to confirm that jungwon feels the same way about you as you feel about him

but it doesn’t really matter

we live in a delusional world and you’re the reigning monarch so it all works in your head

but other than the fact that you were most definitely crushing on your neighbor

the two of you were basically inseparable

it was like some higher being wanted you to suffer

bc you and jungwon got along SO WELL

and he just...didn’t even connect the dots

or if he did, he didn’t say anything about the tension between you two (that you might’ve accidentally somewhat have made up)

but all in all, jungwon and you had a pretty nice summer

some days you’d go to the beach and just watch the stars while drinking beers

some days you’d go to the little kiddie theme park that the neighboring town has just because their fried ice cream was insanely good

“we’re probably going to get diabetes, three different heart conditions, and certified obesity from these things.”

“...well the universe shouldn’t have made the human body too weak for fried ice cream then.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that fried ice cream simply should just not exist?”

“never.”

that summed up pretty much your entire friendship with jungwon

but no matter how close you became with him, it still felt like he was holding himself back a little bit - although, it killed you, you understood

for starters, he’d disappear off the face of the planet for two or three days before coming back to you with the same calm yet insane energy that only jungwon could carry

on top of that, he seemed to be losing a lot of weight lately - which was probably what was leading to the hair loss as well

and whenever you guys weren’t hanging out, he was pretty much always at the hospital

you’d mentioned gently a couple times that you were worried for him bc you were worried that his job was working him too hard (so as to not tip him off)

(hence the long hours at the hospital and the weight/hair loss)

but jungwon always gave you a tight smile and changed the subject

so you slowly learned to just drop it and not push him

you had no clue that jungwon was struggling with how to tell you the truth behind all those hours and the weight loss

you had no clue that jungwon was head over heels in love with you

you, y/n l/n, were completely unaware that jungwon knew exactly how you felt because he felt the same exact way

you had no clue that you were catching feelings for the terminally ill jungwon yang - according to jungwon yang

jungwon had liked you from the beginning, honestly

the almost comical way you fretted over him when you accidentally pied him, only to see rashes on his neck

the way that your eyes would light up when you were talking about how you wanted to teach

the way that your nose crinkled when jungwon brought home asparagus for you to experiment with one day

the way your eyes fall to his lips and then back up hurriedly, as if you’re scared that he’s going to find out you like him the same way that he likes you

which he does.

but jungwon yang also has terminal cancer.

which meant that he was absolutely never going to tell you about his feelings and let you tell him about yours

because he didn’t want to know that when he left this earth, he left someone who loved him behind on it

he’s scared

he’s scared that you wouldn’t move on (was that his ego speaking? perhaps)

or that you wouldn’t understand why jungwon had taken so long to acknowledge his feelings

or worst of all, jungwon was so fucking terrified that you would leave his side if you knew that he had terminal cancer

because that’s a burden that not many people were willing to take on voluntarily

so he stuff his feelings down deep into his stomach, where his heart can’t reach them

and it is the one thing that he regrets most

little does he know that you’re well aware of the fact that jungwon had cancer

jake had called you one day, out of breath and shaken to the core with worry

his friend jungwon had called jake and collapsed mid-call, three days before you met jungwon officially, and the line had gone silent

jake had begged you to drive jungwon to the hospital

which you obviously did, the second you found jake’s spare key

and managed to haul jungwon into your beat up toyota

and even in his semi-conscious state, you couldn’t help but think that he was the most gorgeous person that you’d ever seen in your life

and that you really wanted to get to know him

jungwon never knew that you were the one who had driven him to the hospital, since jake was the only one in the room when he awoke, finding out from the doctor that he had collapsed due to the toll of treatment on his body

you’d instructed jake to keep the news of you driving jungwon a secret

jungwon’s cancer wasn’t exactly public information, and you hated to think that jungwon would have a certain impression of you and that you’d never be able to speak to him normally

which is why you figure that jungwon simply just doesn’t want to want anyone at this point in his life

but you can’t help it

you like him so much that it starts to hurt

and you have to let it out

you have to tell him just how much you love him

before the love starts eating you from inside out

jungwon is silent when you blurt it out one day, while the two of you are standing in the kitchen, cooking with a random louis armstrong song playing in the background

you’re somewhat aware of what jungwon is going to say before he says it

but you let him say it anyway

“i’m not sure i want to get into a relationship right now.”

“that’s fine. i didn’t tell you because i wanted you to respond; i told you because i wanted you to know that i like you. a lot.”

the louis armstrong song just continues to play and the two of you continue to cook in silence

it never grows awkward between the two of you

even with your feelings out in the open, everything stays the same

the two of you still tiptoe the line of friends and something more without ever crossing over to the other side

until that one day

jungwon had planned to finally put his big boy pants on and tell you how he feels

fuck the cancer

fuck his hesitation

fuck everything

he just wanted you to know that he liked you too

and that you were the reason why he was still smiling and dancing his way through this summer, even though he’d thought that he wouldn’t be able to smile like that anymore

he was all ready too

he’d gotten you flowers, put on your favorite song and cooked you your favorite food

he pushes down the funny feeling in his stomach that had been bugging him for the past couple of days, chalking it up to nerves because he was finally acting on his feelings

but that would be the nail in the coffin

the last thing that jungwon remembered was the feeling of swaying before falling to the floor, seeing jake sim’s shoes run over to where he was

and then everything went black

when jungwon woke up, the doctor had to inform him once again that he had collapsed

that the funny feeling in his stomach was no silly joke, but the cancer attacking him from inside out aggressively

they tell him that they had to perform emergency surgery to replace his kidney, which was damaged beyond repair, something that no one had been able to trace previously

he was lucky, the doctor said to them

there was a patient who was in a car crash in the operating next to him and the kidney had been in perfect condition

the doctor continued, saying how lucky jungwon was that the kidney had been compatible for his body, stating that the likelihood of his body being able to beat the cancer that had been destroying him increasing significantly

but jungwon isn’t listening

everything felt wrong.

jungwon could feel it in his heart

it wasn’t right

he swallows and asks the doctor the name of the patient

but he knows the doctor cannot reveal information like that

it doesn’t matter

once he sees jake burst through the doors, tears streaming down his cheeks, jungwon knows

“it was her, wasn’t it.”

jake just falls to his knees, sobs wracking his body and the doctor sees himself out

“she wanted me to tell you that she was happy that it was her before you.”

jungwon just falls back against the pillow, staring up the ceiling, unable to feel or think of anything

he just felt numb

even at your funeral, just a week later, jungwon is unable to think

he’s numb

completely frozen

unable to move on

and when he’s asked to pay his respects, all he can do is touch your coffin, his tears finally falling

“i’m so grateful you pied me in the face that day, y/n. i wish i had - i wish i had told you, i like you too. and i’ll get pied in the face with a truckload of peaches if it meant that you could come back to me. to come back to me to at least let me tell you that i like you. the same way you like me.”

he laughed cynically through his tears.

“you don’t have to respond. i just wanted to tell you because i wanted you to know that i like you. a lot.”

jungwon never falls in love again after that, unable to forget the memories the two of you had shared in that short but sweet summer.

and every year, on the year that you’d given your life to jungwon, he eats a peach pie, wishing that you were there to chide him and eat it with you, louis armstrong playing in the background

#jnnul #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #jungwon scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #jungwon fluff #jungwon fic #jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jungwon angst

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jenchan-writingmultis · 9 hours

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Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Idia's Part)

Previous part (Kalim)

─────❅─────

A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much. Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul

Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Kalim = The sultan Idia = Hades ─────❅───── Idia: The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.

One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.

“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.

You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.

“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.

“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.

“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.

“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.

Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.

You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.

Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.

You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”

“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.

“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.

“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.

“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?

“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.

“Your” Idia? What does that mean?

The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”

Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.

Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.

If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.

“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”

Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.

“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.

“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.

“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”

Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”

Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.

“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”

You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.

“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”

“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.

So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…

Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.

“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “

Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”

Oh dear, you’re in it now.

Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!

Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.

Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.

But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.

Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.

He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.

You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.

Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.

“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.

That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.

Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.

─────❅───── A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #fluff #twst idia #idia shroud #ortho shroud #idia x reader #idia twst #disney twst #twst ortho #twisted wonderland idia #idia x mc #ortho

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